Not Until You: Part VI (4 page)

Ah, God. Now it was his turn to shudder as her warmth and wetness enveloped him whole, making him momentarily unaware of anything but the exquisite feel of their joining. His fingers dug into her hips. He’d only ever gone bare with one other woman, and he couldn’t remember the sensation being this fucking fantastic.

She gasped a bit when he settled deep inside her, and he realized quickly that he was already gripping her too hard. He loosened his hold. “Sorry, angel.”

“Please don’t stop,” she said, breathlessly.

He chuckled softly, then rocked into her again, earning another sweet sound from her. “No chance of that.”

She lowered to her elbows, cheek pressed into the comforter, and he could feel her body surrender. Anything he wanted, he could have—everything from her posture to the rapt look on her face said it. The reality of that was like a heady drug dumped into his blood. She may be a smartass sometimes, may rebel against some of the rules, but goddamn if she wasn’t gorgeously, perfectly submissive when she was under his touch. Pleasure, pride, and something else he didn’t want to label at the moment swelled high in his chest.

She whimpered softly beneath him, and he braced himself over her back, wrapping his arm around her to reach her clit. She had taken her punishment with grace tonight, and now he was going to make damned sure he brought her to a place to make it all worthwhile. As soon as he touched the swollen button, she arched her back like a cat, pulling his cock even deeper inside her. He groaned along with her.

“You have permission to come when I do, baby,” he said, increasing his tempo, no longer content to go slow and easy. He needed to hear those fuck-me screams of hers. That sound did things to him he couldn’t even describe—knowing that she was out of her head, lost to it all—was like pure adrenaline for him. He continued to thrust inside while stroking her clit, their bodies going slick with sweat in the effort to prolong the pleasure.

Then he watched her fingers curl into the comforter, her knuckles going white. She shifted restlessly beneath him, like the buildup of energy was too much to hold in her body. He knew she was past the point of return. Feeling no pain. All pleasure. All need.

“Come, my angel” he whispered.

The low, keening cry on the heels of his command was like bliss-soaked music. He gripped her hard and fucked into her like a man possessed, dying in the pleasure of her clasping, clenching heat. Her sounds. The scent of her skin and arousal. It was all too much. Right as she buried her face in the blankets to muffle another grinding moan, he came hard, spilling inside her and letting loose his own shout of release.

It was the perfect moment.

With the perfect woman.

And for just those few minutes, as they rolled over and curled into each other, he let himself imagine that it wouldn’t be temporary. That’d he’d found
that
girl.

But he knew hope was a wicked bitch. One who had proven time and again that the minute you believed in something or someone, you got decimated.

And even if Cela thought she wasn’t telling her parents about staying because she was afraid of how they would react, he knew the truth. She hadn’t told because she still wasn’t sure of her decision.

She wasn’t sure of him.

And that’s what had hurt him tonight.

So he knew that he had to cherish these stolen moments with her, because like everything else good in his life—there was always an expiration date.

And every instinct he had said the clock was ticking.

Chapter 30

The next morning I found myself in the completely odd position of waking up in Foster’s bed and getting ready to go into work with him. I’d run over to my place to shower and put on fresh clothes. But right after, I was back, hand in hand with him as we headed out for the day.

He’d offered to give me a tour of his company today, and I was looking forward to seeing it. But as he pulled up to the Starbucks drive-thru window and handed me my latte, it wasn’t lost on me how very domestic this felt. How fast this was all happening. I tried to push the anxiety that came along with that. Half of me was thrilled at how comfortable everything was, but the other half—my practical half—was warning me to slow down my assumptions.

He pulled away from Starbucks and set his coffee in the cup holder. “So have you thought any more about when you’re going to tell your family?”

I sipped my drink, the too-hot liquid burning the tip of my tongue. I winced—whether it was from the coffee or the question he’d asked—I wasn’t sure. “I was thinking maybe it’d be best to tell them in person.”

He looked over at me, eyebrows lifted.

“I’m supposed to go home for my birthday not this weekend but next, and I figured it’d be more respectful to talk to my dad face-to-face. Maybe I can make him understand better if he can see how excited I am about this new job.”

“Sound like a brave route to take,” he said, nodding. “And a mature one.”

I held my fingers around my cup, hoping the warmth could chase away the chill going through me at the thought of talking to my dad face-to-face. “I’ve already tried to tell him on the phone, and it was an epic fail.”

“I’m sorry. If I could help make it easier for you, I would.”

I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks. I just wish I could fast-forward time and have it be done.”

“I know the feeling,” he said, almost to himself more than me.

Before long we were pulling in front of a shiny building with the 4N logo on it. Foster pulled into a reserved spot close to the front and helped me out of the car. “Wow, you get your own spot and everything. Fancy.”

He smirked. “Watch the mocking tone, angel. I’m not opposed to locking my office door and reminding you to be respectful. My desk is the perfect height to bend you over for a spanking.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and he reached up, quick as a flash, and pinched my tongue between his thumb and forefinger.

I gasped—or well, it would’ve been a gasp had I had a tongue in working order.

“Not very nice.” He bent his head close and gave my tongue a little pinch before releasing it.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“Sure you are.” He smiled and slid his hand around the back of my neck to claim my mouth in a heated kiss. His tongue massaged mine where he’d pinched, stroking against it with sensual hunger. My blood went hotter than the coffee in my hands, and I whimpered into the kiss. He broke away after another second and grabbed one of my hands, curling my fingers around the erection tenting his pants. “You’re a hazard to bring to work. You’re getting me hard already.” He stroked my hand along his cock, then released me. “Quick, ask me something decidedly unsexy so we can actually get out of the car without me stabbing anyone.”

I took a breath, trying to get my own responses back in check, and glanced at the building again. “What does 4N stand for?”

I could sense his mood shift instantly in the dip of his brow. His erection flagged almost immediately. Damn, apparently I’d chosen the most unsexy question ever. “It means ‘For Neve.’ Neve was my sister’s name.”

“Oh,” I said quietly.

He blew out a breath and conjured up some version of a smile. “Okay, that totally worked. Guess it’s safe to head in now.”

“Right.” We both climbed out of the car, the ebullient mood from before ebbing drastically.

Once we made our way to the entrance of the building, Foster pulled open the glass door and let me in. The woman at the large rounded desk at the forefront of the modern lobby stood as soon as we were both inside. “Good morning, Mr. Foster.”

“Good morning, Alexis,” he said, his smile polite. “Nice weekend?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

The redhead smiled with open curiosity at me, but Foster didn’t bother to introduce us. He kept walking toward a set of elevators as I let my gaze trail over the shiny plaques that seems to line the perimeter of the lobby. “What are all these for?”

He glanced over to see what I was referring to. He shrugged. “Awards. Thank-yous.”

Thank-yous to a tech company? That seemed odd.

But when we rode the elevator up to the top floor, I realized quickly that Foster’s company was not your average widget builder. Along the main wall heading toward his office, there were photos of children and the occasional adult. All with their names and dates and times at the bottom. I paused at the last one—a photo of a little girl with very familiar blue eyes. I touched the letters on the frame.
Neve Juliette Foster
.

Foster stopped his stride and paused with me.

“She’s beautiful,” I said, my heart twisting in my chest as my fingers ran over the date.
Age 5—Missing since July 1990
.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “She was.”

I didn’t miss the past tense he’d used, and I leaned into him. “What are the other photos for? Are they all missing, too?”

He slid a hand onto my lower back, standing next to me at the wall of photos. “No, those are our happy stories. 4N creates devices and apps to help track children, so that if they disappear, parents can have a tool to find them. We’ve saved a lot of kids with it, and even a few Alzheimer’s patients who have wandered off. These are our successes. The people who we helped.”

I looked at him then back at the substantial amount of pictures, each smiling face shining back. Alive. Home with their families now. “My God, Foster, that’s amazing. I had no idea . . .”

His thumb stroked the base of my spine. “We put up the pictures to remind us why we’re doing this. And to get through the tough days. Because for every happy ending, there’s another child that doesn’t come home at night or another woman who disappears while jogging. People are victimized every day.”

I turned toward him, my heart feeling like it had doubled in weight in my chest. “Which is why you freaked out about me opening my door.”

He released a breath, his shoulders dipping. “Knowing what’s out there and seeing it on a daily basis makes me want to wrap you up in my arms and keep you next to me so that nothing evil ever touches you. That’s why seeing you exposed to any of it, like that asshole Gerald or that guy taking a photo of you, makes me a little crazy.”

I reached for his hand, saddened by what he’d been through and wanting to hug him, but knowing that probably wouldn’t be good to do at his job. I was truly awed at what he did for a living. I’d known he was still actively looking for his sister but had no idea that he’d dedicated his life’s work to it. No wonder he was so paranoid. If I had to face those horrible stories every day at work, I’d want to lock everyone down, too.

“I’m sorry you’ve seen so many ugly things,” I said, squeezing his hand.

“How about you come to my office so I can stare at a beautiful one instead?” He leaned over and gave me a peck on the lips.

I smiled, enjoying how easily he showed his affection, even in a public situation like this. On the way to his office, he introduced me to a few people and explained what they did. Everyone was very friendly, but I didn’t miss the curious glances, raised eyebrows, and the faint hint of whispering after we walked away. Apparently Foster didn’t bring women he was dating on tours very often. Good.

When we reached his office, he made quick introductions between me and his assistant, Lindy, who burst into grin when he called me his girlfriend. Foster gave her a quelling look and Lindy tucked her lips inward, her eyes still smiling.

Foster ushered me past her desk and opened the door to his expansive office. Before closing the door, he called back over his shoulder, “Lindy, hold my calls for a while.”

“Yes, sir,” she chirped. “I’m on it!”

I crossed my arms, cocking my head. “So
she
gets to call you sir, too. I see how it is.”

He laughed and pulled me into his embrace. “They all do. Even Herb in accounts payable. Jealous?”

“Wildly,” I said, tipping my head back and looking to the heavens.

“Well, your patients get to bite and lick you. So I have my own jealousy to deal with.”

I leaned back in his hold, eyeing him. “Oh, you bite, do you?”

“On occasion.” He snapped his teeth together with a growl, then chuckled when I yelped in surprise. “But I’ve had my shots, I promise.”

“Good to know.”

“Now come on, I have something I want to give you.” He released me and pulled out the chair in front of his desk for me. I sat down, as he went around his desk and grabbed a small box from his drawer. He came back around to my side and perched on the edge of the desk.

“Now, Foster,” I teased. “I think it’s a little too early for a proposal. I mean, I know I’m spectacular in bed, but . . .”

“Hush, smartass,” he said, bumping my leg with his foot.

“Yes, sir.”

“So I know you heard about the symbol of a collar in your class and how serious being collared is. It’s like getting married.”

I nodded, my gaze darting down to the box with a small pinch of panic. He wasn’t going to collar me, right?

“We’re not ready for that step yet, but I wanted to give you something to mark our commitment to being together like this.” He opened the box. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet with a small Celtic knot charm on it.

I reached out and touched the links. “It’s beautiful.”

“We make these here. It’s a Home Safe anklet.”

I tucked my hand back into my lap, looking up at him. “What does it do?”

“In the charm is a small transmitter. If someone goes missing, it can either be activated by the victim or remotely activated by whoever is looking for them. It will send out a signal to help find them—like a remote GPS. This is how we’ve saved a lot of those people on that wall out there.” He lifted it from the box and handed it to me. “I would love for you to wear it. As a symbol. But also as an added safety device. I’d feel better knowing you had one.”

I stared at the anklet, guarded now and growing more and more uneasy by the minute. “It tracks someone. Will
track
me.”

“It’s not like—”

“God,” I said on a bitter laugh. “My father would’ve paid a fortune for this when I was a teenager. Instead of going through my cell phone records and having neighbors report in on me, he could’ve just sat as his computer and tracked my every move. How convenient!”

Foster frowned. “It’s not meant to be used that way. It can only be activated in emergencies. If it’s a false alarm, the customer has to call in and have it reset. Each only gets two resets before the person has to buy a new one.”

But my mind was already chasing the line of thought like a dog racing after a mailman. A customer would have to buy a new one but not Foster. It was his product, his company. He could probably activate or reset one whenever the hell he wanted. “You really lack that much trust in me?”

“Cela,” he said patiently. “This is not about me not trusting you. I care about you and want you safe. The chances of anything ever happening are slim, but I’d sleep better knowing that you had an added layer of protection.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, let’s make sure
you
sleep better. Doesn’t matter if I have to wear some device like I’m on house arrest. What if I’m late one day or want to go somewhere and don’t tell you? You could just hit a button and
poof!
know all my business? Or better yet. You could add in a feature like a dog’s shock collar. If I stray to far, you can just deliver a little jolt.”

“Forget it,” he said, pushing up from the desk and tossing the empty box on top of it. “You’re right. This is about trust. You not trusting that I’m doing this with good intentions and not to fucking stalk you. I’m not like your father.”

“And I’m not your sister,” I retorted.

“No, you’re not,” he said, full anger rolling off him now. “Because I’m actually trying to protect you. The day Neve was taken I was supposed to be watching her in the front yard. She was
my
responsibility. But she’d been annoying the hell out of me all afternoon, wanting me to play Barbies. I told her to go play her stupid baby games somewhere else. So while I was busy climbing trees with my friends, my baby sister was grabbed off the street by some monster. Because of me.
My
fault.”

I stared at him, stricken.

“So fine, be pissed that I want to protect you.”

“Foster—” I said, stuck tears slowing the words in my throat. “God, that’s not your fault, it was the—”

“No, it was mine. Just ask my parents.”

The words echoed through his big, modern office, pinging through my chest. His parents. The ones who’d left him alone, who’d bailed on him. Now I knew why. They blamed their son for something that some sick criminal did. My heart broke for him, right there in his office, little pieces falling to the floor.

He let out a long breath and sagged back onto the desk, his eyes haunted. “I need you to wear the anklet, Cela.”

I wanted to stay angry, needed to fight the idea of what the anklet represented, but I couldn’t bear the flat, empty look on his face. I went to him, lowering to my knees and laying my head in his lap.

He threaded his fingers through my hair, his voice grim. “I don’t know how to care for someone and not worry, angel.”

I wanted to reassure him, to take that pain out of his voice, but I couldn’t agree to something like this just to make him feel better. I lifted my head and took his hands in mine, meeting his gaze. “I am so sorry for all that you’ve been through. And I wish I could take that all away for you. But this is asking a lot—too much. I’ve spent my whole life under someone’s thumb, and I’m not sure I can ever put myself in that kind of position again.”

“Angel . . .”

“I need some time, Foster,” I said, the bleak truth bleeding through me, making my limbs feel heavy. “To think about all this. We’ve moved fast. And it’s been intense and fun and wonderful, but I’m beginning to wonder if I’m capable of being what you want and need. Maybe I’m not cut out for this role.”