Novels 03 After Twilight, page 14
Instead, he pulled air into his lungs, his brain clamping down on his need. “I’m here.” The words came out a whisper, but under the circumstances he was grateful they’d come out at all.
She stopped a few feet in front of him, the coffee table between them, her fingers fumbling with the lacy edge of her gown. “There’s something I think you should know.” Her eyes were huge, heavy with anxiety and indecision.
He smiled, hoping to allay her fears. “Come on, sit over here.” He patted the seat next to him, his hand smoothing the sheet-covered cushion.
She edged around the table, looking a lot like a guilt-ridden schoolgirl. She stopped just short of sitting, twisting her hands together, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. He reached for her hand, tugging gently until she sat down beside him. He took her other hand. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together.”
“I think I know who’s been doing this.”
“This?” Her fingers trembled and he tightened his grip.
“The dog, the car, the d-dead man.” Her voice shook, emotion laid raw.
He lifted a hand, smoothing back her hair, his touch seeming to calm her. “Take a deep breath.”
She obeyed, sucking in a ragged breath. “Alex. It was Alex.”
“Alex is dead, Kacy. We’ve been through this.” The strain of the past few days had obviously taken a bigger toll on her than he’d realized.
“No.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she held up a hand. “I know he’s dead. That’s not what I mean.” She blew out a breath, closing her eyes. When she opened them, they were steady, clear. “When Alex and I married, I didn’t know anything about him. I don’t have any excuse for that. I was rebelling, trying to prove I could make my own decisions.”
Braedon frowned, trying to follow the thread of her conversation. “Rebelling against what?”
Her jaw tensed. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, I didn’t know my husband. Looking back on it, I realize there were signs, things I should have seen.” She was twisting her hands again. “But I didn’t.”
“I don’t see—”
“I’m getting there, but I need to tell you all of it.”
“All right.” He sat back, watching the emotions chasing across her face.
“Most of my life I’ve followed the rules. I was always the kid least likely to make waves. The one who faded into the background.” She stopped, lost in her past. He could almost see her remembering. “A couple years ago, I decided I’d had enough, that Kacy Macgrath was long due a little excitement. And so Kirstin Macgrath booked a vacation.”
She stood up, crossing to stand by the window, her back to him. “I chose the Cayman Islands. An exotic place for the phoenix to rise from the ashes. It was beautiful there. Blue waves, white sand. Everything I wanted it to be.” She paused, her hands gripping the windowsill. “But I was alone. And somehow it seemed tragic to start a whole new life all by myself.”
The pain in her voice hung in the air, surrounding him, but he knew instinctively that if he interrupted, she’d never be able to finish.
“And then there was Alex. I met him at one of the bars on the beach. You know the kind with straw canopies and umbrellas in the drinks. He was dashing. And I never really thought I’d use that word in a sentence, much less meet someone like that.” She turned around again, the ghost of a smile on her face. With a sigh, she leaned back against the window frame. “And he was charming. No one like him had ever paid attention to me before. I know it sounds foolish when I say it, but it felt so good. For the first time in my life, I felt desirable.”
Her fingers stroked the front of her gown as she remembered, and Braedon wanted nothing more than to kill a man already dead.
“After that, things moved at hurricane speed. We had a lot in common. He loved art. And he was alone in the world— like me.”
“He didn’t have any family?”
She shot him a quizzical look. “No. They were all gone. He mentioned a brother once in passing. But he died, too.”
Or was serving twenty to life in Rikers. He opened his mouth to tell her the truth, but stopped, realizing it would only raise questions he didn’t want to answer. “So you were traveling at hurricane speed.”
“Right. One minute we were dancing, the next we were in bed, and the next we were married. I felt like Cinderella at the ball.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “And almost as quickly it was over. I knew I’d made a horrible mistake, trusted someone I never should have, but I thought … I thought he loved me.”
Her gaze met his and he choked at the anguish he saw reflected there.
“But he didn’t, at least not in the way a husband should love a wife.” A shudder rippled through her, and her hands clutched mindlessly at her gown. “He wanted to own me. Like a possession or a prize. And he wanted to use me. To hurt me. I … I never knew it could be like that….” She broke off, obviously unable to finish.
But Braedon could imagine. “Kacy …” He moved toward her, wanting to hold her, to ease her pain.
“Don’t.” She held up a hand to stop him. “I need to finish.”
He nodded, calling on more willpower than he’d known he possessed, and sat back on the sofa, waiting.
“I kept thinking that I’d done something wrong. That the changes in Alex were my fault. I thought I could fix it. Bring back the man I’d married. Make him love me again. But before I had time to sort through it, to understand what was happening, he died.”
She sat down, her back sliding along the wall until she reached the floor. “And I was left holding the bag. A very mortgaged bag. It seems my husband had a problem with money. He spent it as fast as he got it. And worse, he gambled. A lot.
“So when word got out that Alex was dead, his creditors came to me. And we’re not talking bankers here.” She shivered. “These men were vile, threatening me when I refused to pay them. They even broke into the house once, ransacking it.” She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I told the police. They looked into it but said without proof there was nothing they could do. And of course I had nothing concrete.”
Her eyes flickered open and she tilted her head, staring at the ceiling. “So I tried to give them something. I sold everything I could get my hands on. The house, the furniture, even my wedding ring. But it wasn’t enough.”
“What about the antiques?” The question was thoughtless, but the words were out before he could take them back.
She didn’t seem to notice. She was too caught up in the past. “I sold almost everything, but I couldn’t part with it all.”
“And the trust fund?”
“It’s all tied up in investments and things. I get a monthly allowance, but the terms of the trust keep me from liquidating any of the assets. I gave them what I got, but they knew there was more, and the fact that I couldn’t get it didn’t seem to matter a bit.” She laid her head on her knees. “Anyway, naively, I thought they’d get tired and go away, but instead, it was like sharks smelling blood. They circled closer and closer, taking the little I had to offer and then demanding more, threatening to kill me—or do worse.”
Another shudder racked her body, and Braedon waited, holding his breath.
“Until I couldn’t take it anymore. So I ran away. Ditched Kirstin once and for all. Became Kacy again. I just wanted to pretend like it had never happened.” She lifted her head, her eyes pleading with his for understanding.
He ran his hand through his hair, trying to let go of the image of Alex with Kacy. Alex seducing her. Alex hurting her. Alex destroying her. He clenched a fist.
The bloody bastard.
“So you think these loan sharks are the ones that are after you now?”
“I don’t know. In some ways it makes absolutely no sense, but it’s the only answer I can come up with.”
“Kacy, it doesn’t make sense that they’d wait two years, and then start to hunt you down again. There has to be something else.”
She looked away, staring at the floor. “If … if there is, I don’t know what it is.”
His heart cried out for him to tell her the truth. To tell her that he suspected Alex was involved in far more than living the high life. But he had no proof. Everything was a blasted dead end. And there was nothing to connect the incidents over the last few days with the forgeries. Nothing except instinct.
And the truth was, if he told her about his suspicions, he’d have to tell her who he was. And he wasn’t ready for that. She’d see it as a betrayal. And just at the moment she didn’t need more treachery. He’d tell her. But first he needed time to think. To figure out what to do next.
Kacy’s face was pressed against her knees, her muffled sobs filling the room. And his heart threatened to break in two.
She still had secrets. But, hell, so did he. And somewhere inside him, he knew that whatever it was she was still hiding, it had nothing to do with Alex and everything to do with Kacy. The part of her Fin said she kept locked away.
He knew, too, that he could wait, would wait, until she was ready to tell him. Tomorrow he’d talk to Matt. His friend would help him figure out what to do. But right now, he needed to hold her, to feel her heart beating next to his. To let her know that she was desirable just as she was. As Kacy.
He walked over to her and held out his hand. “Come here.”
She looked up at him for a long moment, tears still glistening in her eyes, and then, with a breath of a sigh, she took his hand and let him pull her into his arms.
All thoughts of mobsters, danger, and threats flew out of her head as his arms closed around her. For the moment, it was enough that he was holding her. She tipped back her head, her lips parted, waiting for his kiss. And when his lips met hers, she opened her mouth, drinking him in like a sun-parched sojourner lost in the Sahara. She wanted more—so much more. And she was positive that without it, she would perish.
Her body burned for him, the fire licking at her, building deep inside until she thought it might incinerate her. His tongue traced the line of her teeth, sending tiny shivers of desire coursing through her. God, how she wanted this man.
She twined her fingers into his hair, drawing him closer, meeting his tongue, swirling around it, tasting the essence of him. The kiss deepened and she felt as if he were touching her deep inside. Sensations exploded inside her, his mouth branding her, making her his with nothing more than a kiss.
But she knew there was more, and she wanted it with every fiber of her being. She shifted, meeting his gaze. His eyes were dark, the blue almost black. The flecks of gold had enlarged, becoming swirls, twirling in the murky depths of his pupils.
“You’re sure?” His voice was hoarse, raspy. It slid across her skin as if it were a tangible thing.
She slid her nightgown off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, her eyes never leaving his.
His intake of breath was audible and he reached out, skimming a palm along the contours of her shoulder and breast, his touch so light, she almost couldn’t feel it. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, forcing the pressure, the touch, to deepen. His fingers fluttered slightly and then began to massage, tracing a languorous path back to her shoulder, stopping to caress each of her breasts.
She reached for the buttons on his shirt, fumbling to undo them, finally tugging until they popped away. He shrugged out of the shirt, standing before her, awaiting her pleasure. With a trembling finger, she traced the rugged planes of his chest, reveling in the contrast between the hard muscle and the soft curls of chocolate colored hair.
Bending her head, she substituted tongue for finger, tasting him. His flat nipple hardened under the heat of her tongue and she felt a surge of pleasure, and something else—power.
He groaned, the sound rippling through her, adding to her desire. He pulled her head back, his lips finding hers, his kiss full of promise. She pressed against him, the warmth of his chest searing through her.
His hand found her nipple, and she bit back a moan when he rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger.
“No, don’t hold back. Let me hear you, Kacy. I want to know that I’m pleasing you.” His whisper tickled her neck, his warm breath teasing her with its touch.
He lowered his head and took her breast into his mouth. Her nipple hardened to a throbbing bud and she sighed, her voice trembling with passion. He suckled harder, rolling the nipple between his teeth, his other hand massaging its partner, the flame inside her building in intensity until she wasn’t certain she could survive it, wasn’t sure anything could be as wonderful as the feel of his mouth on her breasts.
His hand slid downward, stroking and teasing her as it dipped lower and lower, his mouth still caressing her nipple. Something deep within her tightened, an ache spreading through her, demanding release.
His fingers circled the secret place at the junction of her thighs, and then moved lower to the smooth skin of her legs. She groaned and pushed against him, wanting him inside her.
He lifted his head, a hint of laughter in his eyes. “Patience, my love, patience.” His words soothed her, and she drank them in much as she had his touch. His lips found hers and his tongue plunged deep into her mouth, just as his finger finally found its way to her center. She cried out in ecstasy, and he swallowed the sound, the action somehow more intimate than anything they had done.
His finger and tongue began to move in tandem. In and out, in and out, caressing, withdrawing, caressing, withdrawing, until she was balanced on a precipice of light and energy, waiting to explode.
She flung back her head, eyes open wide, waiting for the moment she knew would take her to heaven. But he stopped, withdrawing his hand and his mouth, leaving her stranded, alone.
“Wait. Not yet. I want to see you. Feel you. I want to watch you.”
She shivered at the passion in his voice as he lifted her into his arms, laying her on the rug by the fire. With a minimum of effort, he shed the rest of his clothes and she gasped at the sheer size of him, again feeling the fleeting moment of power, knowing that she was the reason for his arousal.
He knelt at her feet and, with gentle hands, spread her legs, shifting so that he knelt between them. His eyes met hers, his lids low, heavy with passion, and with a crooked smile he bent his head and blew softly on the tender nub that marked the center of her passion. She squirmed, sensations rocking through her, and he placed his hands, hot and heavy, on her thighs, holding her still.
A thousand thoughts swirled through her head, the intimacy making her embarrassed. She shifted again, nervously.
His hold tightened. “Let me love you, Kacy. Let me show you how beautiful you are.”
Biting her bottom lip, wanting him to touch her there more than she could possibly admit, she nodded. Again he smiled, and this time it reached to her soul. He dipped his head again, his breath caressing her an instant before his tongue found her. She bucked against him, unable to control her body’s reaction to his touch. His dark hair fanned out against her skin, caressing her thighs as his mouth caressed her very essence.
His tongue flicked lightly across her, and she shivered with the deliciousness of his touch. Then his tongue tightened and drove into her, a prelude of things she knew would follow.
Again and again he stroked her, driving her higher and higher. Her hands tangled into his hair, pushing him deeper and deeper, until the world spun out of control, light splintering into shattered fragments, and she hit the sun, only to fall, swirling into the light.
Closer and closer she came to the heat, certain it would consume her, destroy her, but then, suddenly, through the blinding light, she felt his heat surround her, his arms holding her, and she knew she was safe.
It was almost enough to taste her, to know she’d been fulfilled.
Almost.
Who was he kidding? He ached with need for her. He had wanted to show her how beautiful he thought she was, to see the expression on her face when he brought her to the edge and sent her flying. But he knew that it wasn’t enough.
He needed more.
He needed to possess her, needed it with every fiber of his being.
A part of him—the only part still thinking rationally— cautioned again that he should confess everything to her, build this newfound trust on reality. But her body burned against him and he rationalized that there would be time to talk later. Now was a time for passion.
He felt her stir against him and tilted his head so that he could see her eyes. They were a dark, storm-tossed green. He felt his body tighten with anticipation.
She grinned slowly and reached for him, closing her tiny hand around his heat. He bit back a groan, and her smile widened. “I want to hear you, Braedon. See your passion.” Her words echoed his, but there was no mockery, only desire—blazing hot desire.
She was magnificent. “I want you,” she whispered against his lips.
“I want you, too.” And he did. More than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
He pulled away, his eyes surveying the room, settling on a mahogany lyre-back chair. An antique. A moment waiting to happen. He smiled and rose, offering a hand to pull her to her feet. They stood for a moment, eyes devouring the other. And then, with a tug, he pulled her toward the chair.
Her eyes widened as he sat and patted his lap, his manhood turgid against his stomach. Then understanding dawned, and she licked her lips, the motion threatening to undo him. She started to straddle him, but he smiled, turning her so that she faced away from him. She looked over her shoulder, a question in her eyes, but his smile widened into a grin.
“Trust me.” The irony of his words mocked him, his heart calling for a reality check, but he pushed the thought aside. Tomorrow. Time enough for truth tomorrow.
Her lips quirked into an answering smile and she turned away from him, her beautiful buttocks nestled against his hardness. She squirmed into place and he almost lost it. She was so hot, so sweet.
Placing his hands on her hips, he raised her, and, with a little moan, she impaled herself on him, encasing him in moist, silky heat. He groaned, trying to hold onto his control. She leaned against him, her back to his chest, and his hands drifted upward, circling her breasts, his nostrils full of the sweet floral scent of her silky hair.
