Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) (33 page)

When he rubbed his thumb along my clit and
ran a long finger across my hot, wet opening, I couldn’t stand it
one second longer.

I twisted around and coiled my body against
him, feeling my breasts flatten against his chest and my abs
contract with desire. I reached between us and took his rigid
length into my eager hands.

I wanted to climb up him, to cover him with
kisses and sheath his hardness with my hot, slick opening until he
filled me completely.

"Lawton," I said, more a moan than a word. "I
need you so bad."

He lowered his head, silencing my words with
a long, drawn-out kiss. I reached up, wrapping my arms around his
neck and savoring the feel of his wet lips on mine.

As his sighs mixed with my own, his hands
drifted downward. He cupped my ass and lifted me up around him like
I weighed next to nothing. I wrapped my legs around him, savoring
the tightness of his hips and the muscles of his back.

And then, with a low groan, he was sliding
into me. I moaned and wrapped my legs tighter, feeling his hot,
hard length thrust deeper and deeper. Lost to everything except
this, I ground into him, feeling my legs tremble and stomach
clench.

He was so strong and so beautiful, it seemed
like a dream. But it wasn't a dream. I knew this by the ragged
sound of his voice as he said my name over and over again.

And then, I was convulsing. I felt my walls
tighten around him, and his hardness pulsing with every thrust.
Soon, the pressure was almost unbearable. I felt my insides
convulse and my legs shake.

I called his name and hung on for dear life
as waves of our united pleasure trampled all my doubts, all my
inhibitions, and all my fears in a sea of sound and sensation that
threatened to carry us away to who-knows-where.

Together, we sank down into a trembling heap,
letting the steaming water wash over us as we stared into each
other's eyes, oblivious of everything except each other.

Slowly he reached out, running the back of
his index finger across my jaw. "If I wake up, and you're not here,
if this is all a dream, I don't want to wake up at all."

I felt myself smile. "Me neither."

Ten minutes later we collapsed, still naked,
onto his bed with wet hair and damp skin. He was sprawled on his
back, and I was cuddled up next to him, with my head on his
shoulder, and my hand resting on his chest.

The air was cool, but my skin was warm. I
sighed into his shoulder. "Best Thanksgiving, ever." I winced. "I
mean aside from the thing at my dad's. Um, and the hospital. And
losing your keys." I lifted my head. "You know what? I'll shut up
now."

"No. Don't do that," he said in a sleepy
voice. "I love to hear you talk." He pulled me closer. "It
was
the best. But you know what?"

"What?"

"Next year, it'll be even better."

"How do you know?" I said.

"Because we'll make sure of it."

I smiled into his shoulder. "Yeah," I
murmured, feeling myself drift. "I can see that."

I woke in the darkened room to find myself
wrapped in Lawton's arms and covered with a soft fleece blanket. I
glanced at the clock. It wasn't quite nine.

The night was still young. I'd slept barely
an hour, but felt wide awake – no surprise, given the fact that for
someone like me, who worked nights, this was practically the middle
of the day.

Gently, I slid out of Lawton's embrace and
got out of bed. I spotted Chucky, curled up near the footboard,
with a furry paw resting on Lawton's ankle.

Smiling, I made my way to the bathroom, and
returned to the room a couple minutes later for my overnight bag.
Determined not to wake either of my two favorite guys, I lugged my
bag into one of the spare rooms. Quietly, I dug out some casual
clothes, got dressed, and ran a brush through my still-damp
hair.

It was a big house, so there wasn't any
shortage of things to do, or places to do it in. But what I really
needed to do was figure out what to do about the Parkers. It was
beyond obvious that things weren't exactly what they seemed.

I had received no returned calls, no
replacement checks, and no instructions from the financial guy or
anyone else. Planning to check my phone, I went to retrieve my
purse and stopped, confused, when it wasn't in its usual spot. And
then I remembered, I'd left it on the Parkers' kitchen counter when
I'd gone there earlier with Lawton.

"Oh crap," I muttered, suddenly feeling very
naked – and not in a fun way – without my purse and everything it
contained, my phone in particular. I glanced toward the quiet
stairway and considered the timeframe.

It was still relatively early. If I knew
Lawton, he'd be awake in an hour or two and ready to make up for
lost time. Now was probably the perfect time to make a quick dash
back to the house. I could grab my purse, maybe throw in some
laundry, and be back before Lawton even noticed I was gone.

A minute later, I was lacing up my tennis
shoes and shrugging into my jacket. I grabbed Lawton's spare house
key, along with my own small ring of keys, and shoved them into the
front pocket of my jeans.

I walked out Lawton's front door, feeling
happier than I had in forever. My job stunk, and my career was
going nowhere, not to mention my house sitting troubles. But
somehow, I was having a hard time caring. All that stuff, I'd work
it out somehow.

Walking down the quiet street, I thought of
how much had changed, not just today, but over the past few months.
No matter what, I vowed, I was going to be myself from now on. If
people didn't like it, well, then that was their problem, not
mine.

I was still smiling when I opened the front
door and went inside the darkened house. I turned toward the side
table and reached for the lamp.

From somewhere in the darkness, an unfamiliar
male voice said, "Touch that light, and you're dead."

With a gasp, I whirled toward the sound and
spotted what I should've seen earlier. The hulking figure of a man,
standing near the far wall of the front room.

I couldn't make out his features, just his
clothing. Black pants, black jacket, black shoes. Or maybe it all
just seemed black in the shadows. As my eyes grew accustomed to the
dark, I noticed what I should've noticed earlier. Upended plants
and bare walls where the shadows of framed artwork should have
been.

Slowly, I backed up until my backside hit the
easy chair near the front window. I opened my mouth, but no words
came out.

"Where's our money?" he said.

My heart raced, and my hands grew clammy. In
a strangled voice, I said, "What money?"

"The money you owe us, bitch."

"I don't owe you any money."

The hulking figure moved closer. I looked
wildly around. I needed a weapon. A baseball bat, a lamp,
something.

And then I heard it, the click of a gun.

Shit.

From somewhere near the kitchen, I heard a
crash and a thud.

"Hey!" the man called over his shoulder. "You
break anything good, and it's coming out of your ass!"

Oh God, how many people were in here,
anyway?

"Whoever you are," I said in a far too shaky
voice, "you've got the wrong house."

"Well, Louise," he said, "that's where you're
wrong."

Louise? As in Louise Parker?

"Because," he continued, "we have
exactly
the right house. And you have
exactly
one
minute to start talking, or we're gonna break more than some vase
or whatever the fuck that was."

"But I'm not Louise," I said, "She's not
here."

"Sure." He chuckled, a deep, ominous sound
that echoed oddly in the quiet house. "I believe you."

"It's true," I stammered. "I can give her a
message if—"

"Shut the fuck up," the guy said.

"But I’m not Louise. I don't even —"

"I said shut up!"

I clamped my lips shut and reached behind me.
The Parkers kept a letter opener in the small drawer of the side
table. If I could only reach it, maybe — shit, I didn't know. But
I'd feel a lot better if I had something, anything, in my
hands.

Slowly, the man moved closer. His shoes made
a faint, padded sound against the hardwood floors.

My heart racing, I tried to make out his
features. I looked wildly to the left and then to the right. I
wanted to run, but I didn't know where.

He had a gun. I had nothing.

Maybe I could dive across the floor, and take
cover under the coffee table. Yeah, right. Like the coffee table
was bulletproof. Suddenly, my breath hitched, and my eyes felt too
big for my face. Behind the stranger, something was moving – a
shadow shaped like a person.

Oh my God. I knew that shadow, because no one
other than Lawton moved like that. As I watched, it crept silently
toward the stranger with deadly purpose.

If the stranger saw him, we were both in deep
trouble. A flash of consequences went through my brain, ending with
Lawton dead on the floor. I couldn't let that happen.

I made my voice sound small and weak, not
hard to do, given the circumstances. "Please," I said. "Don't hurt
me."

His laugh, low and deep, turned my insides to
mud, but I forced myself to speak again. "I'll do anything you
want. And I mean—" I swallowed. "Anything."

"Oh yeah?" Slowly, his right arm lowered.
"You bet your ass you will."

Suddenly, the shadow behind him moved,
barreling into the stranger at lightning speed. The man flew
forward, and I jumped out of the way. The darkened forms slammed,
hard, into the end table.

The table tipped, sending the lamp crashing
to the floor, and the stranger with it. I saw the shadows of fists,
and the sound of their impact, along with grunts and curses.

Desperately, I looked around for the gun. It
had gone flying, right? But I didn't see it. I rushed toward
stairway and dove for the light switch. I flicked it on.

The shadows became people, and the
destruction became obvious. Near the front window, the man on the
floor was still, his face a bloody mess and his arms limp at his
sides. The fingers on one of his hands looked twisty and mangled,
like they'd been stepped on hard, or beaten with a
sledgehammer.

At last, I spotted the gun, a dull black
thing with a short barrel, lying where the stranger had last been
standing. I stepped toward it.

"Wait," Lawton said in a low, urgent voice.
"Don't touch it."

I stopped and looked over at him. He got to
his feet and gave the guy a final vicious kick. The guy didn't
budge.

He rushed toward me, and I fell into his
arms, feeling his strong chest at my cheek and his hands clutch me
close.

"There's someone else here," I told him in a
low whisper. "Toward the kitchen."

When I tried to pull back, he gripped me
tighter. "There was," he said, "but not anymore." He glanced toward
the back of the house. "Now c'mon, we're leaving."

On the way toward the door, he pulled the
sleeve of his hoodie over his right hand and stooped down to pick
up the gun. He thrust it into the hoodie's front pocket and reached
for my hand.

"Wait," I said. "My purse."

"Screw the purse," he said, hustling me out
the back door and into the Parker's back yard. Silently, we made
our way through the back yard until we reached the tall iron fence
that marked the beginning of Lawton's estate.

He made a foothold with his hands. "Over the
fence," he said. "And don't stop 'til you're inside the house."

I looked down at his hands. "But how will you
get over?"

"I'll jump it," he said. "But not right
now."

"Why not?" I said.

"Because I've got to take care of
something."

"What?"

"Chloe," he said in a deadly serious voice,
"I don't want to boss you around, but if you don't get your ass
over that fence right now, I'll have to toss you over. And you
could get hurt. I don't want that. So just listen to me, alright?"
His eyes were pleading. "Please, baby. Just go. You need to do
this, alright?"

"But I want you to come too," I said.

"I'll be there in a few minutes, a half hour
tops. You know how to close the gate, right?"

I nodded.

"Good. Get in the house. Lock the doors, and
hit the control for the gate. I'll see you in a little bit."

"Wait," I said. "I should call the police,
right?"

"No."

"What?"

"Trust me." He flicked his head toward his
hands. "Now c'mon. You've gotta go, alright?"

Gingerly, I stepped up into the foothold, and
a moment later, I was launched over the fence, landing hard on my
ass on the mulchy surface. I glanced back and saw Lawton, watching
me, his eyes fierce and his grip tight on the two closest fence
spires.

"Go," he said.

And so I did.

When I reached the patch of shrubbery that
would hide me from his view, I turned back for one last look. He
was still there, watching me in the shadows. Conscious that as long
as he was watching me, he wouldn’t be able to watch his own back, I
turned and plunged toward the house.

Inside Lawton's house, I watched the minutes
tick by – ten, then fifteen, then twenty. With every passing
minute, I felt a fresh wave of guilt and uncertainty.

I should have never left him there by
himself. What was I thinking?

But he'd been so insistent. And the way he
talked, I had the distinct impression I'd be putting him in more
danger if I stayed.

But why did anyone have to stay? He should've
returned with me. I should've made him, even if I had to drag over
the fence myself. And why couldn’t I call the police?

My head swimming, I vowed to give it five
more minutes. And then, I was going back there. Or I was calling
the police. Or both.