Chapter 8 #2
Three additional savage smacks jarred me to the point my eyes were open wide. The anguish was shocking, the electric tingles now having nothing to do with the earlier passion. I struggled in his hold, only to have him wrap his huge arm around my waist, holding me in place.
I was going nowhere.
“Yet is my point,” he gritted out.
“You don’t know me.” Every time I wiggled to free myself, it resulted in trickles of juice staining the inside of my thighs.
“I know enough.” From predator to jokester. “You don’t like following rules.”
Four more and they were even more brutal. Moans were ripped from my body as the anguish drifted all the way down to my toes. “The pot calling the kettle black.”
When he laughed, he nuzzled his face into my neck, but he refused to stop, one coming right after another.
What was it about men who enjoyed disciplining women?
The harder I tried to get away, the faster his palm came down on my backside.
Every inch of me had exploded with fire, my core erupting.
Meanwhile, his cock throbbed, swelling inside my pussy.
What was my body doing while I was being treated like a bad little girl?
Clenching around the thick invasion, pulling him in even deeper. I’d never felt so filled in my life.
When it seemed he was finished, he brushed the tips of his fingers along my spine with one hand, brushing damp hair from my face with the other.
As soon as he did, I wiggled, moving back and forth before pressing my hands on his chest. Even as he folded one arm under his head, his grin lopsided, I could tell he was thinking vile thoughts.
“What?” I dotted his skin with soft puffs of my breath, rewarded with a series of low growls.
“You’re playing with fire, little girl. I’m not the man you think I am.”
There was a seriousness to his tone, a warning that he’d offer once.
“I already told you. I know exactly who you are.”
He rolled me over again, rising onto his elbows as he rolled his hips forward. “No, you don’t.”
I clamped my hands around his sculpted forearms as he fucked me, unable to take my eyes off him. The man was even more insatiable, refusing to stop even as beads of sweat formed along his hairline. He couldn’t seem to get enough, powering into me with long, slow, and forceful thrusts.
“And I hope you never need to find out.”
The last statement also caught me off guard. What was he alluding to?
Remaining on both hands, he never blinked as he stared down at me, his lips now as taut as his jaw was clenched.
Only as his body started to shake violently did I realize he was close to coming.
Yet he wasn’t finished yet, keeping himself aloft while slowing his actions. I had unspoken thoughts as another wave of powerful yet damning images jetted into my mind.
Maverick was right. We were playing with fire. Only for an entirely different reason.
My instincts were never wrong. Neither were his.
The real killer was out there in the wild, maybe already killing again, and I’d placed the life of the only man I could count on in danger.
When he threw his head back, issuing several guttural groans, I turned my head away, trying to catch my breath.
His cock continued to pulse as he erupted deep inside, thickening even more.
When he finally collapsed over me, the intensity of his explosive heat searing my skin, I closed my eyes tightly, the harsh reminder that we were strangers swirling in my mind.
Yet with the full weight of his body pressed against mine, his heated breath skipping across my skin, I’d never felt as safe as I did at this moment.
And I knew in my heart he’d do anything in his power to keep me that way.
Even if it meant smashing every rule.
Or breaking the law.
Including the use of murder.
The first rays of light dancing across the horizon had always been my favorite time of every day.
A new beginning, sunlight washing away the sins of the night before.
I sat with a steaming mug of coffee in my hand, staring out as the darkened skies gave way to a painted landscape of tangerine and fuchsia, hints of lilac and a tinge of citrus yellow sprinkled throughout.
I’d left the huge man sleeping, so peaceful that I’d stood over him for a full five minutes enjoying the view of his gorgeous body.
For some crazy reason, I’d felt the need to leave before the sun had risen.
I wasn’t certain why other than that what we’d shared, while amazing, hadn’t been anything that either one of us had expected to happen.
I also hadn’t expected to share everything with him. Doing so had been easy, so much so it had seemed as if we’d been friends or at least working together for years. Now, I felt silly for leaving, but I’d always preferred my own space.
Yet Maverick’s touch and his kisses had been extraordinary. Even now, just thinking about him created a wave of need unlike anything I’d experienced before seeing him at the bookstore.
He’d been exactly like I’d remembered with a few additional perks.
A single red-hot vibration danced all the way into my pussy. His scent lingered, painting my skin in the most sensual way. I’d yet to take a shower, perhaps because I wanted to be reminded of him for a little while longer.
In leaving the way I had, there’d been no promise of seeing each other again. For all I knew, he’d think I was nuts and purposely stay as far away from me as possible. He’d think I was off my rocker, even after telling him about the phone call.
Yes, the words the caller had said were exactly like the ones I’d heard the killer say. His voice had seemed the same as well. However, Maverick was right that time and my mind’s protective stance could easily alter details. I reminded my clients of that every day.
I’d made a mental note to have my number changed.
I took another sip, thankful I’d added a little Irish Cream, which had a calming effect.
Being nothing but a bundle of nerves wasn’t doing my critical thinking any good.
If the man provoking me was a copycat intending on following in his master’s footsteps, I needed to be completely clearheaded if I could provide any assistance.
As if the cops would want me involved. I’d done everything but fake my own death.
Sighing, I tilted back my head, staring at the ceiling. If I’d admit that there was a copycat using Samuel’s upcoming execution for further grandstanding, I’d save myself a lot of heartache.
Sadly, the what-if moments continued. Had Maverick’s interest been piqued?
You bet it had. But enough that he’d be willing to help me?
And do what if he would? I had not worked this through very clearly, which wasn’t like me.
I was a by-the-book kind of girl… who’d purposely gone searching for the one man who could provide clarity.
The same man who’d obviously forsaken everything he’d been taught to believe.
So I’d left without giving him a chance. Maybe I’d been scared to face reality, the fantasy of the man that much better. But I’d be lying to myself.
My nipples ached and as soon as they shifted against my shirt, my entire body followed suit. He had that kind of hold on me. Damn it. Somehow, he’d seen right through my perfectly crafted facade, knowing I preferred dominating men.
Sometimes I couldn’t understand myself after what I’d been through. My mind shifted to all the sinful acts of filth, the naughty images leaving me quivering. God. I needed to stop doing that to myself. Whatever was going on, I had a stalker to deal with, and things could escalate quickly.
Leaving Maverick alone and sleeping, the scent of our passion lingering on the sheets, had been the right thing to do.
Then why was I rolling my eyes?
Plus, I’d wanted to spend some time going over what details I could find on the disappearance of Ashley Boudreaux.
She’d taken her car to a park to go for a jog and had disappeared during her run.
Granted, I hadn’t seen a copy of the police report, but from what little I’d gotten out of Jessica, there hadn’t been any signs of a struggle.
No blood. No scuffle marks. Nothing disturbed along the path.
It was as if she’d gone off with someone.
Someone who’d earned her trust.
That was entirely possible since three separate parking lots flanked the park. Plus, it was close to the beach, which meant someone could have taken her on a boat.
In the days she’d been gone, there hadn’t been any reports of her using her credit cards or any sightings.
I’d sent an email to a friend of mine at the police force who could tell me if any other disappearances matched the circumstances, but my instinct was also telling me the Python Killer was just getting started.
After taking another sip of coffee, I was no longer interested in doing nothing.
I placed the mug on the coffee table and rose to my feet.
It had been a very long time since I’d wanted anything to do with my past. I had to face it.
Whoever the bastard was who’d called me wanted me to remember.
If this was a game to him, the bastard had no idea what I was made of.
One thing I’d learned through the years was how strong my resolve was. More so than a huge percentage of women I’d worked with. But I’d done my best to help them achieve the same goal.
Maybe I’d pushed them too hard, but I knew what doing nothing meant. Failure.
I headed into the second of three bedrooms, the one I used as an office and storage for my wildly eclectic collection of books.
What I also kept hidden in the closet was something everyone in my life had told me to toss out.
Maybe I’d needed to keep what the psychiatrist had called a shrine of death to remind myself how lucky I was to be alive.
I threw open the closet door, flicking on the light and dropping to my knees.
As with any home, space was limited. I stored everything inside the closet from my old skiing gear, as if I’d ever go skiing again, to my old law books, which needed a bookshelf of their own.
Another promise made to myself I hadn’t kept.
Then there was the huge brown box at the back. It took me a full ten minutes to be able to dig it out.
Once it was in front of me, I blew hair that had fallen into my face and stared at the writing on the lid. In red. Do Not Open.
Who’d I been kidding?
Packing tape was everywhere, so much of it that I had to run and grab scissors from the kitchen. I tore into the box, finally wrangling the lid free a few minutes later. The scent of old newspaper clippings and a strange fragrance of cigar smoke hit me first. Where had that come from?
I sat where I was, cross-legged and doing nothing more than staring at the contents while the clock ticked away.
With my hand shaking, I finally found the courage to pull a few things from inside.
Articles I’d found in every newspaper across the country. Reports from the police after using every contact I had. Notes I’d taken in the dead of night when I hadn’t been able to sleep. Pictures that I’d drawn from memory. And a couple that had been taken on sight of where I’d been found.
And the pièce de résistance?
The article including photographs of Maverick’s and Max’s heroic deed.
I’d been drawn to him since the beginning. We’d been brought back together and I had a feeling I knew why.
To save another life.
Maybe more.
A series of creepy-crawlies swirled into my system after only a few minutes of reading my notes. Needing a break, I rose to my feet and headed toward the window. After peering out at the beautiful sparkle of sunlight, a glint caught my attention. Shielding my eyes, I scanned the road.
Until I noticed someone standing watching the house. Wait a minute. Was I seeing things?
With a single blink, I leaned in trying to focus.
And saw absolutely nothing but a tree limb swaying in the breeze.
But he was there.
Watching me.
Waiting for me.
Hunting me.
I was positive of it.