In the Air Tonight (17 page)

Paige continued to stare at its scarred black surface and he wondered if she was remembering what else she’d learned when she first touched it. Not that what she’d told him hadn’t been enough to turn his stomach.

He didn’t like being vulnerable in front of anyone. In front of her, it made him feel helpless. And he hated that feeling most of all. “You’ve proven your point—we don’t trust each other,” he said finally.

“I never said I didn’t trust you,” she shot back.

“You’re just too scared to touch me. Right, big difference there.”

“I didn’t come here to sleep with you.”

“No, you came here to use me for information!” he roared. It was true, there was no way she could deny it—and she didn’t. “You got what you came for. Maybe you came for more than information, though. Maybe you came here hoping I didn’t know about your gift.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” she protested, but he ignored her, continued walking to her like a predatory animal stalking his prey.

“So now, tonight, you want us to use each other. I just want to make it clear. That’s your intention, so we don’t end up with any crossed wires.”

They would end up with far more than that, but her needs were too far gone for her to argue any further.

“I want you, yes.”

“So if it’s all about—or only about—sex, then why should I bother fighting it,” he asked, caught her arms and held both her wrists behind her back in one of his hands. “Besides, I think you like it this way, like to be tied and helpless. It’s easier to avoid the guilt of wanting me so badly. This takes away your choice.”

God, there was so much truth in what he said, no matter how much she denied it. Fighting Mace’s grip would do no good and yet she struggled anyway.

He ground his pelvis against her. “Feels better when you fight, doesn’t it?”

A low moan escaped from her throat, even as she flushed.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore, baby. You want it hot and rough, you’ve got it.” His mouth caught hers in a punishing kiss, one that threatened to take the breath from both of them, more a fight than anything—and so appropriate between them right now. Push and pull and he didn’t know who would win this round. All he knew was that he was prepared for the battle.

He took his mouth off hers, satisfied when he heard her protest.

He eased back from her slightly. She’d only put on her shirt loosely, remained bare otherwise, and he easily reopened the few buttons she’d managed by ripping each one off.

She drew sharp breaths as each gave way and clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent space. And then he drew her bare chest to his, because it was way too late to stop any of this.

He kissed her again and again as he continued to grind against her until his towel dropped and his cock made contact with her sex and he nearly lost it. Wanted to push her down and drive into her until she was incoherent and blind with wanting him.

But he would make her beg for it this time, no matter how badly he wanted to move fast.

A knee went between her legs, spread her thighs without finesse. She nearly lost her balance but he had her firmly wedged against him—and within seconds she was on the bed under him. Pinned.

She gazed up at him with wide eyes, her mouth swollen from his kisses. He took a nipple in between his finger and thumb and rolled the tip back and forth until she arched into him, and then he did the same to the other.

“I want you to tie me so there’s no way out,” she whispered.

“Not a problem.” Using his flannel shirt—the one she’d been wearing—he tied her just as she’d requested.

She struggled briefly, perfunctorily, until he took a nipple into his mouth, tonguing the velvet nub into steel, hearing her cry out above him.

It was a cry of pleasure, of that he was certain.

He would pleasure the hell out of both of them, leave her wrung out and exhausted … and wanting more.

He gave her one final out. “Do you want me to stop, Paige? This is your last chance, because after this, there’s really no way out.”

She shook her head as if she didn’t trust her voice.

Since touching her wasn’t out of bounds, he made sure his hands, his mouth were everywhere on her skin, until she didn’t know where she’d feel a touch or a tongue next. She was writhing under him, and he’d never felt more like banging his chest and howling than he did at this moment. Because he could handle everything about her. Never felt more like claiming and marking, and he did, leaving red marks on her beautiful skin.

The marks would fade. How he felt? He didn’t think there was a chance in hell.

He could be fucking everything up tonight by doing
this—but the thought of not taking her wasn’t an option.

When he first flipped her over onto her stomach, she gasped. Then his fingers found her core—and then his mouth, hot and wet to the lips of her sex, and she shifted to give him better access … and practically screamed.

His tongue speared her, then flicked the swollen nub of her clit as he slid a finger inside her, and then another, until she was rocking back into them. Begging him for more. Asking him to
fill her
, and he almost lost it, had to pull away and get back a small semblance of control.

He was safe because her hands were tied—and so was she. He wasn’t happy about that at all, but he was hard as hell. And he needed to be inside of her.

The swell of her ass, perfect, heart-shaped and lifted in the air, her sex, wet and ready for him, nearly drove him over the edge.

His cock twitched as he stroked it along her folds. She pushed back as if she could capture it, but he didn’t allow that for long. Teased her until she was nearly sobbing and only then did he enter her, a long, slow stroke until he was inside her so deeply, it made him shudder.

He laid his body over hers, and he began to rock in earnest.

He would not lose control before she did.

But it wouldn’t be easy—her moans filled the air around him, incoherent words he didn’t need to understand. It didn’t matter. He’d brought her right to the edge and now he would push her over.

And only then would he let himself follow.

——

P
aige spread her legs farther, arched her back to allow Mace complete access to her. Pleasure radiated through her womb, a tightening sensation that begged for release … and then began to burst in a steady spiral of intense contractions that radiated through her sex.

She turned her head, to find Mace watching her intently. His face was flushed, his eyes glazed.

Her legs trembled from exertion, but he wasn’t letting her off the hook. His hands were firm on her hips, controlling her movements.

She wanted it faster. Harder. He had his own ideas, was totally in charge unless she told him to stop.

She had no intention of doing so. Instead, she gripped the sheets so hard they pulled off the mattress. The bonds on her wrists remained firm, but stretched to their limits as he took her.

She’d invaded his privacy, he was invading hers, claiming every part of her with hands and mouth and cock, thick and long and as beautiful as the rest of this rugged man who had her bent and at his mercy.

And yet, somehow, gentleness pervaded above all else. He wasn’t taking her to the point of pain. Not even close. This was his way of torturing her, ensuring her nerve endings were on sizzle, even as he turned up the flame.

It was what she wanted, to be taken so she wouldn’t have to think—she wanted the sex to block out everything else.

Sex with Mace was both peaceful and rowdy. Off the charts hot.

“Spread your legs wider, baby,” Mace urged, and she did as he requested.

Pleasure rocketed through her until spots swam in front of her eyes. She was vaguely aware that she’d collapsed against the sheets, with Mace partially inside of her.

He was still hard. His body covered hers—they were both sweat-slicked, breathing hard.

When he turned her over onto her back and entered her again with one long, hard stroke, there was nothing left to say, except …

“Make me come again, Mace. Please.”

She didn’t have to ask twice.

A
fter he apologized to Paige, Caleb stayed downstairs in the bar area, avoiding the inevitability of seeing Vivi as long as possible.

Goddamned coward
.

And still, that hadn’t stopped him from sitting in the office with his sketchbook, drawing the same two men over and over again.

As he’d been doing over the past months, he’d sketched the faces so they appeared … fuzzier. Almost like they were distorted somehow, which was odd since all the earlier pictures of their faces were crystal clear, the features sharp and sure.

He stared down at the recent, muted sketch until his head hurt. Paged back through until he got to the pictures of Vivi.

He’d been right on the money, down to the hair, the way her lips parted as she worked on the computer.
The way she looked back at him as if she could see right through him, both on the paper and in person.

Of all the times for her to arrive, right in the middle of a murder investigation.

When would be a good time, Caleb?

Instead of trying to answer that, he sketched, watching the image form on paper as if he was watching a movie of someone else’s life.

It had taken everything he had not to react when he saw her, because he’d drawn her for the first time last week.

It would take everything he had to continue to keep it together around her.

He checked all the doors and windows, stared out into the parking lot and saw nothing out of the ordinary, then set the alarms and headed up the stairs.

He kept a few of the lights on in the bar, just in case. As if light could keep out the bad shit.

Vivi was sitting on the edge of the double bed in the second spare room—Mace’s old bedroom—her partially opened door an obvious invitation.

There was no way for him to pass by without at least making eye contact. So he did.

“I’m not leaving,” was the first thing she said to him.

“I know—there’s a blizzard.”

“That’s not why. Stubborn asshole.” She muttered that last part under her breath, but obviously loud enough for him to hear it. A small part of him wanted to laugh, since she’d hit the nail right on the head. A deeper part gave a darker laugh and wondered just how far this woman wanted to push things.

“How did we meet?” he asked suddenly, instead of continuing on toward his room. Goddamned impulse
control—he blamed it on being that much closer to remembering everything.

Somehow, he knew patience had never been his strong suit.

“You kind of kidnapped me,” she said, and he frowned. “It was part of your job. The Army thought I was involved in something really bad.”

“Were you?”

“Yes. But it wasn’t my fault. I guess everyone says that.” She shifted on the bed. “I came here at a bad time—I know that. It’s just … I don’t think there’s a good time for this.”

It was true. Even if he did remember her, he wasn’t the same man. Couldn’t be sure that the feelings he’d once had for her would ever return. All he knew was that he was definitely attracted to her. “I’m not the man you knew.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You knew me for, what? All of five days?”

“They were some pretty intense days,” she said. “I can tell you about them, if you’d like.”

He shrugged. She took it as a yes. “I’d had everything taken from me. I was broke, trying to erase my father’s debt, and I might’ve died if it hadn’t been for your quick action.”

None of that seemed familiar at all. His whole job was about saving lives—it didn’t sound like anything out of the ordinary, but obviously it had been.

He moved farther into the room, closed the door for some privacy. His need for knowledge of his past outweighed his fears at this point. Maybe Mace was right, and he should just give in to this. She shifted on the bed as she watched him, her eyes wide.

He sat next to her, leaving space between them. “Tell me more.”

She did. Explained how their time together had been a whirlwind of work and danger, how, in that short span, they’d gotten close. And sure, he could see that happening, with the proximity alone. Except …

“I stayed in your apartment after you left for your mission,” she said. “You wanted me to. You wanted me to be there when you got back, but you also knew that the FBI wanted me to work for them. You said you’d understand if I chose that, and that it wouldn’t change anything between us.”

“So you left.”

“I did. But Noah knew where I was. I wrote you a letter and I left it on the counter. I wish I had it with me now.”

“So I’m guessing we, ah …?” His eyes roamed over her body.

Her face reddened. “Yes.”

He nodded, continued staring as if trying to force those memories back. He saw a flash of something cross her face and then she pulled her T-shirt over her head. Moved closer to him. Really, really close. Hands on his shoulders, and he could smell her shampoo, feel the softness of her skin as she settled onto his lap, straddling him.

“Vivienne, what are you doing?”

“Vivi,” she murmured. “I told you, you always called me Vivi.”

She hadn’t told him that this trip … but he knew she’d told him that before, when they were first together. He wanted to hold that small memory tight to him. “But … you can’t do this.”

“Not without some cooperation from you. Best-case scenario, you have a memory spark. Worst case? You enjoy yourself and we make a new memory.” She smiled and then seemed to pull back. “Unless … If you’re not attracted to me …”

“That’s not it at all. If you couldn’t tell.” His cock bulged and he shifted so it pressed between her legs.

“Pretty unmistakable.”

His hands moved with a life of their own to trail along the lace cups of her bra. “Pretty,” he echoed, and she shivered as his thumbs brushed her nipples through the fabric.

“More, Cael … please.”

He would oblige. Wanted to feel. Wanted to believe he could have his life back.

Wanted to find out if Vivi really did believe in him. But she was too damned trusting. And so he took his hands away and, as gently as he could, he got her off his lap.