Chapter 13
He was relentless. It was as if he was trying to prove a point.
He used his hands first, stripping not only her clothing, but every bit of resistance.
His clever fingers kneaded flesh, lingered over her nipples, and had her vibrating.
His eyes burned with a passion that struck something deep inside her.
And he was taking his time. Slowly, thoroughly, he was driving her insane.
The need inside him was so keen that he felt it cutting a path through his very soul, but still he continued.
He wanted to brand her, to make her forget that he had hurt her so horribly.
He wanted to forget that he had been the one to hurt her.
He wanted to make it up to her and put his seed inside her.
When she was a quivering mass of pure and desperate desire, only then did he stumble to his feet. The restriction of his clothing made him impatient, and he realized his fingers were all thumbs.
Dragging at buttons, he sent them flying. The shirt was ruined, but he did not care. He finally got rid of the rest of the clothing.
Through the enormous fog of desire covering her brain, she somehow managed to open her eyes to take in his male beauty.
His skin was golden, the muscles well defined.
Sweat still sheened his chest and the rigid planes of his stomach.
Kady felt her mouth watering. As soon as he eased into bed next to her, she reached for him.
She wanted to feel him, to have his body on hers. Turning her to face him, he cupped her face, fingers gentle. "I love you." His voice was like rough velvet, thickened with the emotions coursing through his vulnerable body. "Even when I was forced to leave, I loved you."
He lowered his mouth to taste hers. He needed the contact. The past fell away swiftly, and right now, nothing else mattered.
Just the two of them. Nothing and no one would ever touch her; he would make certain of it.
When she responded to the kiss, he deepened it, his tongue making its slow exploration of her mouth.
She tasted of everything good and sweet.
He wanted to ravish her, to swallow her whole.
He'd hoped fervently in the past to recapture what they had shared as teenagers, and nothing had even come close.
Nothing ever would.
Changing the angle of the kiss, he covered her body with his.
He could feast on her sweet mouth forever.
Wanting her was boring a hole inside him.
When she lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, he was lost. The idea of seducing her until she was mindless with desire was not going to come to fruition.
He was already mindless; he was burning up with passion for her.
The groan was torn from his throat, and with his body shuddering, he plunged into her.
Swallowing her gasp, he delicately circled his hips, wanting to give them time, wanting the sensations, the incredible feeling of being inside her to last.
Lifting his lips from hers, he fisted his hands into the thick strands of her hair, his eyes trained on hers. Everything he was feeling was revealed. There was no shame here, no need to hide what was going on inside him.
He wanted her to know his heart. He wanted to reassure her that it belonged to her and only her.
"Landry." Her voice was thin and shaky. She saw it, saw everything, and it was overwhelming.
"I'm yours," he told her roughly.
"I know." Her fingers found the fringes of hair at the nape of his neck and clung. "Landry." His name was like a prayer on her lips.
He responded by taking her mouth in a kiss that had her trembling. Soft, sweet, poignant. Tears burned the back of her eyes and burned her throat. This was love. How could she have imagined she could ever survive with anything less?
The release came, long and soft, tumbling through her like a mild rushing wind.
It left her breathless and dizzy. His own release came right after hers.
Holding her to him, he flooded her with his seed, his long, lean body shuddering.
Afterwards, he held her to him in silence.
There was nothing to say at the moment; words were too insignificant.
Easing to the side, he made sure not to break the intimate contact, wanting, no, needing to feel her against him.
***
The wine was excellent, the Cabernet a blend his choosy palate appreciated. Taking another sip, he carefully opened the snowy white napkin and placed it precisely inside the collar of his immaculately tailored shirt, before picking up the utensils to begin his meal.
He had prepared the fish himself and knew before he even had a bite that it would be savory. Something new he had tried. Olive oil with a creamy dressing he had come up with.
He loved to cook; it relaxed him. Along with the meal, he was listening to Bach, the melody flowing over him like a gentle river. He was a man who loved the finer things in life, ones that had been denied him for many years, because he had been running and hiding.
It was good to be back. A smile touched his stern lips and did nothing to soften them. He was back, and he was in close proximity to the people who had destroyed his life.
His mouth tightened as memories swamped him. His former best friend, a man he had called his brother. And that whore he had fallen in love with. That mercenary bitch who had dumped him as soon as she was introduced to a man who had more resources.
With a flick of his fingers, he dismissed her. Yes, he had been maddened with jealousy and heartbroken. When he discovered that his best friend and the woman he had given his heart to were hooking up, he had wanted to kill them both. But common sense had prevailed.
He had left town, unable to bear to be near them, and had cut off communications.
And he had bided his time. He had returned all smiles and pretended that all was forgiven.
The bitch had been pregnant and had the gall to name him as godfather.
But seeing her swollen with child had changed his perspective.
He would find a way to repay them for what they had put him through. Then something had changed for him again. The first time he saw the child, he knew what his mission would be. The child was supposed to be his.
When she gave birth to another, a daughter, he decided to wait.
He spent time with the children, hiding his plans well.
His original idea of hurting them had changed.
He loved them; they were his children. He might not have planted the seeds inside that bitch, but they were his.
He would wait, and then, when they least expected it, he would take them away.
Somehow it had gone wrong. He had hired incompetent people who had bungled the job.
This time, he was going solo. After all, one could not entrust such an important assignment to imbeciles, he thought in disgust. The children were no longer children.
They had grown up to be beautiful adults and were holding their own.
Yes, he mused with a satisfied nod. The fish was superb. Not too salty, with just the right amount of kick to it. Finishing the meal, he used the edge of the napkin to dab at the sides of his lips. Bach had given way to melodic Beethoven and had him tapping his feet in tune.
He had missed this. Running for his life after the plan had gone horribly wrong, he had to make do with mediocre services.
There had been women, of course. He was a very attractive man, after all.
And women had listened to his sob stories and opened their homes as well as their thighs to accommodate him.
A rich widow, a lonely divorcee, an actress with just a little bit of madness to her. He had treated them well enough to have them opening their checkbooks to him. He had been well taken care of, and he had paid them back by making them feel well-loved in bed.
He was not a vain man, but he knew his way around a woman's anatomy. After the disaster with Jessica, he had learned from it. Women were useful for one thing, no, two things, to pleasure a man and to bear children.
Pushing back his chair, he rose and went to get the file he had left on the side table.
It was comprehensive. He had made notes and had photos, courtesy of his long lens camera.
Picking up the ones with his children, he admired their beauty before studying the woman in the next photo.
She was beautiful. He knew her, of course.
The boy had been taken with her when they were children.
Now they were back together. He wondered if he approved.
Not that he was against colored people. He wasn't. Pursing his lips, he picked up another photo, and this time his frown deepened.
The brother of the woman was a doctor, but still, he was absolutely sure he did not approve of the relationship.
Ah well, very soon, as his plans evolve, this would all change. He had a place, a home where they would spend the rest of their lives. He had been cheated out of seeing them grow up, but he would make up for it.
Putting the photos back, he went to pour himself another half glass of wine.
He was indulging. Nothing was wrong with that; he had been denied so much because of those two people.
But it would not do to overindulge. He had work to do.
Soon he would have his children with him.
The idea of that had him smiling as he went back to listen to his music.
***
Lincoln tapped the edge of the cigar into the ashtray and watched as the smoke curled upwards and disappeared. He had stepped out on the balcony for a bit of fresh air and to do some thinking.
The moon was high in the sky, lending an ethereal beauty to everything in its path. He admired that beauty for one fleeting moment before turning his thoughts to troubling matters. Where the hell was he? And why couldn't they find him? What did he have planned?