No One Left to Tell (33 page)

She wore a large navy tee with
Police Academy
emblazoned on the front in bold white letters. Without taking his eyes from hers, he trailed his fingers to her thighs. Slowly, he caressed her warm skin, raising the thin cotton inch by agonizing inch. Pulling the tee over her head, he watched her hair cascade to her shoulders, her pale skin made more perfect by the dark strands.

Adrenaline and anticipation surged through his muscles when she returned the gesture, sliding his black boxers down his thighs to the floor. Her hands lingered in all the right spots. Completely unencumbered, the sensation of skin on skin drove him insane. Kneeling at her feet, he stroked her with the tip of his tongue. The sound of her pleasure filled the air. His lips explored her body, eager to learn every nuance of her sensuality. She collapsed to the mattress and pulled him with her.

As her mouth nuzzled him, every movement of her tongue, every touch of her teeth made him shudder. The sound of her moans reverberated against his skin, sending quivers through his belly. Not being able to control himself any longer, he rolled onto one elbow pulling her to him, plunging his tongue into her warm mouth. He could no longer resist what she offered. He pleasured her with his fingers, then rolled his hips against hers, wedging himself between her legs.

"Oh, please ...
YES,"
she cried out as he pressed into her for the first time. "Don't stop."

Tears streaked her face as he filled her, her velvety tightness claiming him. With her outcry, he thought he'd hurt her and almost stopped, but she encouraged him with her throaty moans and urgent kisses. Aroused by her hunger, he plunged deeper, his sense of urgency swelling.

Cradling her hips with his hands, he thrust until she clutched his back. Her orgasm rippled through her in forceful waves. Raven's cries of pleasure taunted him until he couldn't control himself any longer. Arching his back, he exploded with his own powerful release. He filled her, time and time again, then shuddered in exhaustion. Depleted of his strength, he was seized by the faint tremors of complete gratification. He'd never felt so . . .
alive.

Christian rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. She fell limp against his chest. Kissing the top of her head, he nuzzled closer, never wanting to let her go. As he stroked her hair, she raised her chin, finding his eyes in the dim light. Her pale skin glimmered with beads of sweat and the enticing blush of sex.

"God, you're beautiful." The words were out of his mouth before he even realized he'd spoken.

"That's funny. I was just thinking the same thing of you." Her shy smile disarmed him. Then her expression grew more solemn. "Let's switch places. I want to hold you, Christian . . . until you fall asleep."

Her offer touched him—compassion brimming in her eyes. He fondled a strand of her hair, then kissed her with all the tenderness he felt in his heart.

Violence had stilted his life, robbed him of innocence. His repeated visits to the cemetery fed his obsession for penance as a sole survivor like an addict on a fix, but the pain and emptiness never went away. Over the years, he'd become the master at erecting barriers to keep people at a distance. Hiding his emotional scars had become second nature, a draining effort. Now, someone else knew his pain—all of it. And he'd let it happen. Somehow it felt right. With her, it had been effortless.

Making love to Raven forged a deep bond between them. She touched him in a place he thought had died long ago. Nothing he'd experienced before matched how he felt, just holding her.

Drawing the comforter and sheets over their bodies, he nestled into her embrace, welcoming her comfort. He fit to her body like it was always meant to be— listening to the beat of her heart in the stillness of the early morning.

In her arms, he'd never felt so connected to another human being. The intimacy of the gesture seduced him. He drifted to sleep, completely letting go, reliving his pleasure with the woman who held him in her arms.

Only Raven mattered—

The gray haze of winter's morning shone through the draperies of Christian's bedroom as he opened his eyes. It took his mind a moment to remember the trunk filled with the awful truth. His world had come to a grinding halt. An uneasy sadness dampened his spirit. The foundation of what he had believed lay crumbled in the wake of Fiona's lie.

Seek the truth, Christian.
The message pinned to the body of Mickey Blair taunted him. Who could have engineered such a thing? And for what purpose? He still felt no closer to that answer.

Just when the venom of bitterness threatened to contaminate his day, the warm body next to him stirred. He gazed upon Raven as she nestled into his shoulder, strands of dark hair lying across her pale cheek. Asleep, she looked like an innocent child. How had a guy like him gotten so lucky? He smiled as he gently pulled back the hair from her face with a finger. A sweet moan reminded him of his change in fortune. He didn't feel alone anymore.

With her skin next to his, his body reacted, stiffening with the memories of last night still fresh in his mind. Gently, he kissed the top of her head, then rolled to his side. He cradled her in his arms, his lips in search of his favorite places.

"Hmmm ... so good." Her voice sounded throaty and suggestive as he nuzzled her ear. "You an early riser?" A smile graced her lips, warming his heart. She kept her eyes closed as her hand reached for him.

"Always," he answered, her velvet touch inspiring him. "I believe in rigid discipline." A faint gasp escaped his mouth as her hand came to rest. "Oh, yeah."

"I see that," she purred. "Let me put you through your paces. Nothing like an early-morning workout."

This time, it would be about Raven. Christian would learn the subtleties of her body, giving her the pleasure she deserved. And with Raven, he forgot the ugliness of his past, no longer dwelling on the crippling pain of it.

For the first time, he felt whole, brimming with hope for his future.

With the shower still going. Christian grinned, remembering how Raven had joined him earlier. She taught him the lost art of "sudsing," as she called it. Her "workout" routine left him drained, but completely relaxed. Laughing aloud had never felt so good.

Wearing only his thick navy bathrobe, he headed for the kitchen to start the coffee, a grin still on his face. But when he stepped through the door of the master suite, all that changed. Reality hit hard.

The contents of the old trunk lay strewn on the floor of his living room. His discovery harsh in the morning light. To punctuate the blow, the abrasive sound of his cell phone reminded him that life went on. Retrieving his phone from the coffee table, where he'd left it the night before, he answered the call.

"Delacorte."

"Yeah, boss. Bill Edwards here." He recognized the voice of his trusted security man at Dunhill. "I just heard from the hangar. You wanted me to keep you informed on the whereabouts of Mrs. Dunhill."

"Yeah. Something new?" Christian kept his tone steady, but his heart was another matter.

"The pilot has got a flight plan returning to the Dunhill hangar. She's heading back to Chicago. Her ETA is four this afternoon. She's asked for a pickup." Bill cleared his throat, broaching an opinion. "I figured if she called for a ride from security, she hadn't contacted you. What do you want me to do?"

He closed his eyes.
And so it began.
Fiona was coming home.

A part of him felt relieved to finally know her whereabouts. But an even bigger part was angry as hell at her gall. She'd left him to deal with the murder, intentionally holding back her secrets. Why come back now? Since she hadn't called him, did she have any intention of contacting him at all?

"No pickup, Bill. I'll do it myself. Thanks for the heads-up." He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the sofa, then pulled a hand through his damp hair. "Damn," he muttered.

"Something wrong? You look upset." Raven's voice came from behind him. Dressed in his white bathrobe, she towel-dried her hair.

"No, just something at Dunhill Tower. I'm gonna have to drive to the city this afternoon." He busied himself with the coffee and hoped she hadn't seen his uneasiness.

His meeting with Fiona had to be one-on-one. Even though he had a personal connection to Raven, she still worked for the police. His instincts told him to honor the loyalty to his . . . to Fiona. The word "mother" stuck in his craw. At this point, he wasn't sure he could ever bring himself to call her that. Yet before all this, he would have been honored by the privilege.

"You'll be safe here while I'm gone. I'll leave instructions with my men before I take off. It'll only take a few hours."

"Oh no, you don't. You're not gonna ditch me again," she teased with a smirk. "If you're going into Chicago, I'd like to hitch a ride. Can you drop me off at the station house?"

Her suggestion was not unreasonable. Unreasonable would have been her insisting that she drive her own car in total disregard for her own personal safety. But her compromise took him by surprise. His mind raced with how this scenario might play out. He finally thought of a way to keep Raven off his scent and meet with Fiona alone. The execution of his plan would be tricky.

"I've got a better idea. You drop me off at the tower, then you can have my SUV. But I need to know where you'll be. No deviations. If you're at work, I figure you can't be any safer than that. But promise me you won't deviate from the plan." Stepping closer, he trailed a finger down her cheek and stared into those dark eyes. "And I want your cell phone number, so I can find you when I'm ready to leave."

His smile felt forced. Christian hoped she wouldn't notice. He hated lying to her.

"Okay. I understand. But I can take care of myself, you know." Raven crooked an eyebrow and lowered her eyes to his chin.

He stared at her for a moment, then chuckled, rubbing his jaw. "Yeah, I found that out the hard way."

"That was just a little love tap." She raised up on tiptoe and kissed his bruised lip. "Something I learned from the WWE."

"I should have figured you for a girl into wrestling." He kissed her cheek, then whispered in her ear. "When we hook up later, I'll show you some of my patented moves. No spandex required."

"My, you are a man of many talents. Hunk Hogan move over."

"I believe that's Hulk Hogan," he murmured.

"Whatever."

Wedging herself between him and the counter, she undid the tie to his robe, sliding her fingers to his bare skin. He slipped his hands under her robe, allowing them to stray. He closed his eyes and nuzzled her neck, drinking in the smell of her skin.

The woman made it damned hard for him to ignore her. Yep, Raven made it damned hard, always.

By midafternoon, the sun speared through the dark clouds only sparingly, dashing Christian's hope for a better day. He followed Raven out the front door of his cottage, setting the alarm and locking it behind him. The air smelled heavy with moisture. Today's forecast called for thunderstorms later in the afternoon. On his front step, he turned up the collar to his long black overcoat and heaved a sigh. His eyes fixed on the gathering clouds overhead. Even Mother Nature had conspired against him.