Stephanie
TWENTY-FOUR
Some desires don’t whisper. They consume.
“I still think you would be safer with me,” Hunter says. Again.
I roll my eyes and pray for the strength to deal with my overbearing brother and his ridiculous belief that being in the exact place Christopher expects me to be is for the best. It’s really not.
I know it, he knows it, Eleanor knows it, and even the FBI agent dealing with snakes in her own garden knows it.
I’m in the last place anyone would think to look.
“How is my chaos nephew?” I ask as a fluffy tail sweeps the air behind Hunter.
“Do you know he only responds to your voice?” Eleanor says as she floats around in the kitchen behind Hunter. “Everyone else gets ignored.”
“That’s because my dog has selective hearing. He only acknowledges the people who give him permission to be naughty,” Hunter grumbles. “Stop trying to change the topic.”
“I’m not. Your point of view has been noted, but given that everyone else disagrees, it’s not worth spending time discussing it.”
Hunter sweeps a hand through his hair and sighs. “I’m worried about you. It’s not a crime.”
I smile and tilt my head as my hands curl around my cup. “I’m fine here. It’s a little isolated, but I’m not mad about the peace and quiet.”
Lies. They’re giving my chaotic thoughts the room to breathe and take form. A tangled web of fear, hope, and need.
I need a distraction that isn’t in the form of a six-foot-two adonis who is convinced he’s the villain of everyone’s story.
“How long do they ppredict you’ll need to hide?” Hunter asks.
I shrug. “As long as it takes for them to arrest Burnside or for him to lose interest in me. Until then, I’m sequestered in a lodge with Grumpy Pants and the local wildlife to judge me.”
Eleanor’s head lifts behind Hunter, and she catches my eye in a silent question. She sees far more than people give her credit for.
“Don’t get into trouble,” Hunter warns.
I place my fingers against my chest. “Me? Trouble?”
“It’s your middle name.”
“And yours is Benedict, but I’m not judging.”
He scowls at the reminder. It’s always been a button to push since he hates it.
“How is my brother?” Eleanor asks as she moves next to Hunter and tilts the camera more toward her.
I glance around the empty lodge with a frown. “He’s...” Silent. Frustrating. Suffering. Moody. “Okay.”
Suddenly, we’re on the move.
“What are you doing?” Hunter snaps.
“Girl talk,” she calls out as she takes the camera down the familiar hallway to their bedroom and closes the door. “Go somewhere private, Stephanie.”
I groan and grab the laptop, retreating to the privacy of my bedroom.
“Now spill,” she demands as she gets comfy on her bed.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You just got your life and freedom back only to have it ripped away from you again. Tell me how you are really doing without the fear of your lovely brother mounting a rescue mission.”
My eyes flutter closed as I replay how my lips tingled with the promise of a kiss. “Frustrated,” I confess. “Restless.”
“Do you have anything to help?” she asks.
I flip my eyes open to check she’s asking what I think she’s asking. There are no hidden meanings when it comes to Eleanor though. It’s something I love about her. I don’t have to spend a stupid amount of time trying to figure out what she means. Life is hard enough without that crap.
“Not with me, no. Your brother packed my bag in haste, which then got left at the safe house when we were attacked.”
She narrows her eyes as she concentrates on something on the screen. Tapping ensues. “Your packages will be arriving at the drop box tomorrow. I’ve added some things.”
“What kind of things?”
She sighs. “The kinds of things to the edge off the frustration you’re feeling when all you’ve got is my brother.”
Her brother is the source of the frustration. Is it strange to be taking girl advice from my soon to be sister-in-law? Maybe. But then, I’ve never really had a girlfriend I can talk to.
“Thank you,” I settle on. I can see she’s trying to help, and Eleanor is all about the practicalities.
“Just don’t,” she pauses as she seems to gather her thoughts. “Don’t fall for him.”
I blink but don’t play dumb. “Okay.”
“He’s not who you need.”
How would she know what I need? Every woman is different, every healing journey individual, and the kind of things I fantasize about don’t make a lot of sense to the outside world.
I’ve explored these desires in therapy and been reassured over and over again that everything I feel is valid and are not as unusual as most would think.
Plus, so long as it’s legal and, above all, consensual, whose freaking business is it, anyway?
“Stephanie?”
I shake my head to free the thoughts. Unsuccessfully.
“I’ll look forward to receiving my parcel.”
“Stephanie?”
“Yep?”
“Don’t fall.”
I salute her like a freaking weirdo and then give her a little wave to cap off the insanity I’m signalling. I end the call before she can call my brother in for immediate retrieval and collapse against the mountain of pillows on my bed.
I have needs that another woman can see on a freaking video call.
Taking care of it would be the safest option.
I twist my head and glance around the room.
Why does it feel wrong to touch myself in the middle of the day in a stranger’s house?
There are too many reasons to list, so I do what any self-respecting woman would do.
I dart up from the bed and into the gorgeous dark-tiled bathroom with a freaking shower big enough for seven folks to get their freak on.
It’s not my first time using it, but it’s the first time I’m getting in to get dirty instead of clean.
I whip my T-shirt over my head and shimmy off the sweats, leaving them in a pile on the floor.
A grin spreads across my face when I spot the smart speaker.
I had wondered what he gets up to in here, and now I know.
He holds naked karaoke shows. I can get on board with that.
Plus, the music will help drown out everything.
“Alexa, play sexy music,” I call out. She may as well get on Team Solo Pleasure.
She obliges with a sultry tune. I lift my head and frown at the bright lights.
I wonder if... “Alexa, turn down the lights.” They dim, leaving the room bathed in a soft warm glow.
Perfect. Mood makes for everything, right?
I start slow, taking my time to clean my body with the shower gel that smells exactly like James, helping me to imagine him being right here.
I lean my head back against the tiles and close my eyes.
Breath skates across my collarbone, and I tip my head back and sweep my hands over my bbreasts, which grow heavier by the second.
Need coils low, that simmering heat catching fire. A dark, intoxicating craving blooms, a desire I’m helpless to refuse.
Pressure builds as his tongue traces a pattern against the pulse fluttering in my throat. I want his teeth. I need him ravenous, starved, unhinged.
“James, please,” I beg.
He sinks to his knees, cups my breast, and sucks as much as he can into his mouth. “Beg me, sweetheart,” he growls. “Show me how needy you are.”
Yes, he would be someone who was keen to play with my body and hold my pleasure hostage.
I widen my legs and glide my fingers between my swollen labia.
I’m already wet, ready for him to tease relentlessly.
Kisses flutter like butterflies over my stomach as I circle my clit.
I cry out at the burst of pleasure. Damn, this isn’t going to take much to tip me over the edge.
My back arches. I need something different right now.
I grab the shower extender and switch it on, checking the temperature first and adjusting the pressure.
Perfect. I bite my lip and sink back into my fantasy.
“Show me how you like it, Stephanie.” His voice is gravelly, as if he’s starving for a taste of me. I don’t even know how it would feel, and that’s something I’d love to rectify, but the trust it takes to be that vulnerable…
My hand glides through his damp hair, encouraging him to keep going. This isn’t about teasing; it’s about taking the edge off a need he’s created.
Lips graze my inner thigh, making it tremble.
I just need...