Liquid Lies (28 page)

She
didn’t
tell him that Nora wanted him to go back to Tedra. And she didn’t tell him she herself was Ofarian. She feared he’d retreat if she revealed that, and she couldn’t afford to negate all this progress.

“Can we go to her now?” Joy brightened his milk white skin like a lightbulb.

It killed Gwen to say no. “Not yet. We’re working to free the slaves. Once that’s done, we will come for you and take you to your ship.”

His whole body started to shake. He rose, bouncing on the balls of his bare feet.

“I do not want to wait anymore.”

Neither did she, but first, she needed a plan.

TWENTY-SIX

Reed had asked for this distance, this silence between Gwen
and himself. In theory it would keep them both alive. In reality it sucked.

They’d returned from that bizarre cabin over an hour ago, but neither Nora nor Xavier was here. He’d made his report via watch, photographing, and time-stamping Gwen in the lake house foyer, then he’d locked them in the attic, in their separate rooms. Now he lay diagonally on his messy bed, feet somewhere near the pillows, arms cradling the corner of the mattress, cheek pressed to the cool sheets, when the bathroom door opened. No sense in locking the door when all he wanted was for her to come through. He lifted his head.

Gwen stood there looking at him, stiff arms braced on the door frame as though she held up the whole house. They were really good at acting cold toward one another. Perhaps too good.

His employers had been exceedingly distracted and terse lately. The part of Reed that wanted to be alone with Gwen was thankful for their absence. The part that belonged to the Retriever worried that their behavior meant the worst for their captive.

He had no idea if he should get up and go to her.

“Can I come in?”

Oh, thank God. He propped himself up on his elbows as she crossed to him. Had she ever looked better, with her hair hanging long over her shoulders, and the pine scent of the chilly mountain still clinging to her clothes?

The Retriever drifted away, if he’d ever managed to truly come to the forefront at all that day. She must have been able to sense the switch in him, see it on his face or something, because she held out a hand.

“Come on.”

“Where?” She couldn’t go anywhere without him.

A nod toward the bathroom. “You’re going to apologize to me.”

“What?” he began, a little angry, until he noticed the quirk to her lips.

Then he slid his hand into hers and let her drag him into the bathroom. They stood right in the middle of the demolished DMZ. Late afternoon sunlight hit the surrounding bedrooms, but she’d left the light off in the bathroom and it was so dim he could just barely make out their shapes in the mirror.

“Gwen, I’m…”

…sorry for what you’ve been pulled into and my role in it.

…obsessed with you.

“No.” She kissed him hard. “Not with words.”

The surprise of her mouth and the heat it stoked in him obliterated what he was going to say anyway. Slipping her arms around his waist, she gave a little tug toward her room, but he resisted.

“Don’t I get a say in how I beg for forgiveness?”

“Maybe.” She rubbed the flannel of his shirt between her fingers.

With a deeply satisfied grin, he set her against the sink and went to the shower. Spun the knob to
on
. When he turned back around, she wasn’t looking at him. She stared at the water streaming out of the cheap showerhead with an emotion akin to longing. A slight tremor danced along her fingers.

He had no idea what that was all about, but really didn’t care. Not at that moment. He stalked toward her, took her face in his hands, and kissed her with everything he had. First her lips yielded. Then, oh God, her tongue. It pushed out and tangled with his, and he was lost.

They went for each other’s jeans’ zippers at the same time, fingers fumbling, lips still fused. His jeans fell down without much effort. Hers were tighter and he loved tugging them down her hips and thighs. He abandoned her mouth and dragged his tongue over her newly revealed skin. He left her underwear and T-shirt on, though, scooped her up into his arms, and deposited her in the steaming shower. Hurriedly he worked on the buttons of his flannel, whipped it to the side, then stopped in his tracks.

Gwen stood under the fall of water, drenched T-shirt plastered to her chest and waist, little white underwear gone entirely see-through. He shoved down his boxer briefs and stepped into the shower, immediately going to his knees, because that was where the sight of her sent him.

He loved the feel of the wet, tight fabric over her body, and he ran his hands everywhere until he’d had his fill. Then she needed to be naked. By the drop of her lower lip and the distant focus to her eyes, she needed skin on skin as badly as he. He peeled off her shirt and it landed with a plop somewhere behind him. He replaced the cotton with his tongue, taking a delicious nipple into his mouth.

She clung to his head. Water streamed between her fingers and down his face, mixing with the moisture of his mouth on her flesh.

Curving his hands around her divine ass, he pulled down her underwear and slid his hand into the slippery wetness so different from what the shower gave. She started to shake, to cry out, then bit her lip to keep the sound inside.

He’d watched her come twice already. He desperately wanted to hear her, too, but not in this house. Never here.

He leaned back, watching her with heavy eyes as he stroked her with one hand, pushed inside her with the other. Only their second time together and he could already read her body like a book. The water seemed to hug her as it streamed down her undulating body. She was riding his hands, getting ready to burst, and it was utterly beautiful…but he stopped just short of the goal. Her eyelids flickered open in frustration.

“Turn around,” he murmured.

Dazed, she swiveled slowly. He rocked to his feet.

“Hands on the wall.”

Not only did she do that, stretching high and wide, but she also arched her back. The most beautiful of shapes. The most perfect combination of lines and curves. He dragged a languid, worshipful hand down her back, from neck to ass.

He covered her from behind, his chest to her back, and let his mouth devour the sensitive place below her ear. His hand curled around her thigh and slipped into her from the front. Just for a second. Then he withdrew and replaced the pressure with his cock. Pushed against her, then into her. That quick, that amazing.

She moaned, long and low.

“Shhh,” he said with a smile.

She buried her mouth in the crook of her elbow as he started to move inside her. Slowly at first, paying attention to every millimeter of friction she gave him. Deep, powerful strokes that shoved her forward so her tits touched the tile.

“Is this the kind of apology you wanted?” he said in her ear.

She looked over her shoulder and he took her mouth that way.

“Harder,” she said against his lips.

His body complied before his brain processed the simple word. She must have been seriously primed, because she came so quickly he wasn’t prepared when she shuddered and her legs started to go.

He wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her up. The fingers of his other hand dug into her hip as though he was afraid to lose her. Which he was.

His own orgasm rocketed through him, sending him forward, sagging against her back. The force of it stole bits of his soul and presented them to her as a gift. She accepted them with open arms and he knew his soul was better off in her care than his own.

He kept coming, little aftershocks licking his spine and making his extremities go numb. When they all dissipated, he pulled out, flipped her around, trapped her on the tile wall, and kissed her strongly—so strongly that when those little parts of his soul traveled back into his body, he could tell they were markedly better for having come in contact with her.

They kissed so long she started to shiver and her smooth skin transformed to a bristling mass of goose bumps. Unknowingly, he’d pushed her against the shower knob and had turned off the water.

He reached for a towel, wrapped it around her body, and pulled her to him again. She snaked her arms around his neck—his favorite way she touched him—and whispered, “Apology accepted.”

“I’m willing to do more penance.”

She ran her hands over his hairless scalp, brushing off droplets. Though they teased each other, neither one of them smiled, and it made his heart ache. She kissed him once. Swift and sweet.

“Dry me off and take me to bed,” she said. “Your bed.”

He slipped a hand between her legs. “I don’t want you dry.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

Gwen clung to this moment, because in the blink of an eye it
could be gone. Reed didn’t think he was good at handling the dual personalities he claimed to need. She thought the opposite; he was too good. But she knew it had to be that way.

The Tedrans could return any minute. Now, however, she’d stay locked in his arms, her body curled into his, his warm breath on the back of her neck. He pushed aside her hair and kissed her skin as though it were her mouth, his tongue finding every single point of pleasure.

The sun was setting. Through the window, mauve and gold streaks painted the sky. It was too easy to get lost in this, to think they had days and nights and days of being able to lie naked together. For now, she would. She’d concentrate on the solidity of his body contradicted by the softness of his touch. The low tones of his voice.

“This part of you”—his fingers traced her collarbone—“it’s lovely. Don’t know why I like it so much.”

“That’s sort of odd, considering what else you currently have access to.”

He smiled and pressed his mouth to her skin again. “About this morning…”

“There’s no need,” she replied. “Everything you said was true. I hate this. You hate this.”

“So you’re saying the shower apology wasn’t needed? Well, that was half an hour I’ll never get back.”

She laughed, but its strain was painfully obvious.

“What I hate the most,” he said, “is being two people with you when I only want to show you one.”

At first that made her angry. That’s what he hated the
most
? Then she considered what he’d witnessed so far. Nora hadn’t physically harmed her in any way. The Tedrans kept her locked in a fancy house on a beautiful lake. They made Reed take her to a weird cabin and she came out unscathed. To him, Gwen could be nothing more than an errand girl. He knew nothing about the real danger because he
couldn’t
know anything. To him, she was safe because he was always there with her.

Things couldn’t be farther from the truth, and it sent a sick feeling rolling through her belly.

“You’ve seen the real me, Gwen. I can’t remember the last person who has, besides my family.”

“Person? Or woman?”

He paused. “Either.”

She didn’t have to look at him to see his vulnerability, but she turned in his arms anyway. The sight of him—bald head resting on his big biceps—made her gasp. A melancholy smile touched his lips, an even sadder one in his blue eyes.

“You really are beautiful,” he whispered, “do you know that?”

The words affected her more than they probably should have.

“That’s a tough one to answer. Say no and I’m fishing for compliments. Say yes and I’m conceited.”

“I’m telling you then. You really are.”

Warmth spread through her body as unguarded flame. He inched closer, touched his mouth to hers.

“I like how you look after I kiss you.” He raised a hand, fingers framing but not touching her face, as though he were examining a painting.

“Really?”

“I like where my chin scratches yours. Your lips swell, turn this bright red. Their edges blur. When we stop, you get this look in your eye, like…surrender.”

He could make her shiver without touching her. “I wonder why.”

Reed slid a hand onto the curve of her hip and just let it rest there. Possessive but gentle. It wasn’t an overtly sexual gesture, not even meant to seduce, but she felt the passion start to coil inside her, widening and strengthening as it circled up. Then, underneath, rose a great wave of something else. Something far more potent than mere desire. It filled her body with fiery need and spread out through her veins until it reached her heart.

She sucked in a breath, shocked as all hell.

Dangerous
. This man was the definition of temporary. He had a deadline stamped on him as plain as the black lines covering his torso.

So did she.

On her hip, his hand closed hard then opened, as if he, too, had just shared in her surprise. As though he were trying to tether her to him, then let her go. Claim and release. Claim and release.

They said nothing for a very, very long time. Outside, the sun disappeared. She was glad for the deepening darkness because his presence, physically surrounding her and emotionally invading her, dangled her over the edge of a bottomless ravine. If she fell, there was no climbing out. And she wasn’t sure she’d want to. The ride down would be the scariest thing she’d ever experienced, but she’d never want it to end. And that frightened her most of all.

His hand suddenly stopped moving on her hip. His whole body tensed.

“What?” She tried to sit up, intent on lunging for her clothes then stumbling back into her bedroom before Nora or Xavier burst in.

But Reed pushed her onto her back, his great, decorated chest coming over her.

“Gwen.” He kissed her delicately.

Something shifted in the space between them. Something monumental. She felt it as strongly as she felt his body on hers.

“When this is all over,” he whispered, “I want to take you home with me.”

His home. That city he refused to name.

When this is all over…

Her heart stumbled. When it finally recovered its rhythm, she slid her hands up his chest, tracing random vines with her fingertips. Dim light from the window settled like dust into the hard angles of his beautiful body.