James
TWENTY-FIVE
If you don’t knock before entering, then whatever you find is on you.
She is going to be the death of me. Would I enjoy the descent? One hundred percent. But I’d end up taking her with me, and that’s unacceptable. I’ve done two laps of the farthest perimeter, checking all the cameras are in place and working.
I’ll need to head to town tomorrow and pick up the order containing fuck knows how many nail polishes.
If they bring her a minute of happiness, I’d buy all the nail polish in the world for her.
I swipe a hand through my damp hair as the early snowflakes kiss my heated skin.
I need to check the weather report. Getting stuck in the lodge for days, if not weeks, has never bothered me before, but I’ve never had company.
For the first time, I wonder if I’m going to need to call Daisy on her vacation. It’s always been a hard line for me. I can cope for a few weeks while the woman I trust to quiet my demons is getting some hard-earned rest. But those other times I didn’t have a siren under the same roof tempting me.
You know it’s a fucked-up universe when the one woman I’m attracted to is the one woman I can’t have.
I’m sure some psych would have a field day with my mind.
I stopped reacting to the female form years ago, when every encounter was meant to be about control, pain, and abuse.
I got creative over time to fake what was demanded of me, but it doesn’t negate the fact I put my hands on them.
I had choices, and I could have taken the pain and probable death if I refused.
I convinced myself that if it wasn’t me doing those things, it would be someone like Christopher, and then they would have little chance of survival.
Jonathan taught me how to charm, coax, and play the prince to lure women into the snake pit. But I schooled myself on how to fake rape and murder to get those women out of the horrendous situation they’d stumbled into.
The harder situations were with girls like my sister, the ones born and raised in the cult who had been brainwashed to believe this was the way of the world.
Those were the tricky ones, because if they didn’t follow through when presented to a man, they would spill the beans to Jonathan.
Not everyone had a mother like ours, who fought in the shadows to teach us a different life waited beyond the walls of the compounds.
But Stephanie’s a miracle in a pretty package.
The way she lights up a room after experiencing such darkness and how she clawed her way back to hope after losing it takes strength and determination.
She deserves soft and loving, a partner to treat her sweetly.
Someone to love her and who will whisper sweet nothings in the middle of the night.
I am not that man. Now, if the rest of my body could get on board with that, we would be golden.
I’ve made it back to the lodge without paying attention to my surroundings, which isn’t like me. My survival has always depended on being alert at all times, and now is no different.
I’ve noticed Burnside circling my position under the guise of supporting the new leader. But I’m not stupid. He wants my fucked-up crown. He can have it, just before I detonate the organization and watch with glee as he shatters alongside everyone else who needs an express ride to hell.
Until recently, Camryn has been operating under the notion that the FBI isn’t corrupt.
That if she got enough evidence and caught the targets in the act, they would get justice.
Now her world has been turned upside down, and she’s more accepting of the cold, hard fact that the only justice these men are going to get is by my hand.
Whatever evidence she gathers won’t stick, not when it would implicate too many people in power.
I have plans, none of them legal, but sometimes that’s how you have to deliver what they deserve.
Will I survive it? Absolutely not. But I’m going to make sure the organization is unrecoverable when I go and that the world sees every file, every video, every scrap of evidence to expose these people.
How is that going to happen when they hold so much power? Easy. They don’t have one of the world’s best hackers, who just so happens to be my sister and who is invested in exposing their sick secrets.
I glance through the windows to try to catch a glimpse of Stephanie and come up empty. I don’t like not knowing where she is, which is a problem. It’s not like she’s out roaming the world; she’s safe and sound in my damn house.
“Get your shit together,” I grumble before snatching the hose and checking the hot tub. It’s full, but freezing, and it’s going to take a day to get up to temperature. It’s not lost on me that I’ve not bothered with it before she arrived and lit up at the prospect.
I fold the lid over it and steel myself for whatever I’m about to walk back into.
A moody Stephanie because I abandoned whatever game we were playing earlier?
A quiet, reflective woman as she replays her actions and realizes how fucked up I am?
Maybe the version of her that pretends everything is fine and is pottering about the lodge like darkness isn’t stalking her?
The walk helped cool me off. Hopefully, it’s done the same for her.
A quick scout of the kitchen, dining room, and living room reveals no temptresses. The library is also empty. I frown as I head down the hallway toward the bedrooms. I tap against the wood of hers with my knuckles.
“Stephanie? You okay?” I call out.
No answer. She hasn’t shown any worrying signs, but I’m no expert, and those scars on her wrists flash in my mind as well as the terrifying image of her dangling by her neck from a damn chain. Nope, fuck privacy. I’m going in. She needs to learn to answer.
I push open the door, and I’m hit straight away with her berries and vanilla scent that drives me freaking nuts. The bedsheets are rumpled, but there’s no tumble of dark hair or softly snoring woman among them.
Music filters from the bathroom, and steam billows from beneath the door.
Shower, heat, water... more things that form a terrifying picture.
My mind is a dark place, but if I lose her, I will lose everything.
My sister, who I just got back in my life; Camryn, the agent who has more faith in my soul than I do; and the woman who reminds me of the good still left in the world.
Stephanie is the one I’m fighting for. She embodies every survivor, every person spared from this life of misery and pain.
If she stops breathing, then I think I’ll lose my nerve.
When did that happen? When did she sneak in and become my reason for walking the edge of danger? Easy—the moment I met her. She drew me into her orbit, like my own personal sun to my cold, dark planet which circles but never touches that which would burn.
And she would burn, so freaking sweetly.
“Stephanie?” I call out. “I need you to answer me so I know you’re okay.” No answer, just sultry music. It’s an odd choice if she’s doing what I fear. But that means nothing. “Count of five, sweetheart.”
No answer.
“One, two, three.”
Fuck this.
I swing open the door, and I’m hit with thick steam and a beat that vibrates in my veins. How long has she been in there? I stalk toward the streaming shower, the outline of her body shifting in the foggy glass running with condensation.
“James, please touch me.”
The breath leaves my lungs in a short burst.
The words aren’t for me. Not really. Her hand slams against the glass, and she moves, revealing more of her body. She grasps the hand-held shower extender with her other hand.
I need to leave. Now. I will my feet to move, but they won’t obey. I swallow as her head tips back and a throaty groan leaves her parted lips.
Shit. I need to leave. Eyes up, man, come on.
She’s devastating. Hypnotizing. Every wicked fantasy come to taunt me.
And me? I’m powerless, starving, and utterly enraptured.
Her back arches, leaving her wet curls to touch the curve of her ass. The steam offers me teasing glimpses of her body. The dip in her waist, the curve of her neck, the peak of her nipples, hard despite the heat.
Her hand fists against the glass, and before I can stop myself, my hand mirrors hers.
Our palms flatten, and I try to keep my focus on our fingers separated by a thin sheet of glass.
I would hold her hand through her release, centering her world as she loses control.
Holding her when she’s at her most vulnerable because there is nothing more exposed than letting your body fall in front of someone else.
The trust it takes is something I’ll never deserve or experience, so right here, right now, I can pretend that I am that person for her.
The pulsating water runs across her breasts, the spray hitting the glass offering more tempting glimpses of her skin.
Eyes on our hands. Don’t look down. I narrow my gaze and concentrate, which is a bad idea because now I’m focused on her face and envisioning that it’s my mouth on her flesh that’s making her pant in anticipation.
I’m down on my knees, the tiles digging into flesh as I shift her leg over my shoulder and kiss the soft skin of her inner thigh. She trembles as I reach her pussy, wet, swollen, and begging for my attention. She smells like berries here too.
Her groan has me tracking the water dripping down her exposed throat. Her pulse would hum as I suck. Warring thoughts collide—her clit, her neck, her peaked nipples. Every inch of her needs explored. Every reaction cataloged. Every gasp stored. Every shake noted.
She deserves someone to be devoted to her. Someone who stands in the light alongside her. That’s not me. It could never be me.
“Just there. Fuck,” she breathes. The air grows thicker, and I swear I can scent her desire in the puffs of steam. I close my eyes, and my heart beats faster. She could turn and find me here any second. I have to leave before she falls apart with my name on her lips.
“James,” she moans.
Too late. Now I can leave.
Because she was the one to come apart, but I’m the one who is undone.