Release (21 page)

His low, humming voice resonated in her memory.

Max’d turned the volume way up on his computer and pressed a key. Her own ecstatic cries and whimpers had twined with Sean’s deep groans of pleasure, the volatile sounds filling Max’s sedate, luxurious study.

She stared at the computer screen and then at her husband of four years in rising confusion and stark disbelief. She could still see the smoke curling around his face as he exhaled through a smile.

“It’s so strange to think of it,” Max reflected as he lazed back in his supple leather chair. “But Sean Kennedy actually threatened to kill me after the three of us spent New Year’s Eve together.” He wrapped his lips around his cigar and inhaled. “People will get the oddest ideas after engaging in a bit of meaningless fun.”

Genny breathed in the pungent smoke and felt dizzy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Max,” she whispered hoarsely. “Why are you saying these things? What are you
doing
?”

He looked disturbed. “You don’t believe me, love?”

“I don’t know what you’re
talking
about,” she grated out, much louder this time. The situation started to feel as surreal as New Year’s Eve had. More so, because Sean wasn’t there to steady her.

Max leaned forward and plucked on several computer keys with his long, elegant fingers. A close-up of what Genevieve recognized as the back of Sean’s tawny head with Max behind him, his face to the video camera. Through her haze of shock, she saw the top of her own head pressed to Sean’s wide chest, her cheeks still sex-flushed, her eyelids closed in sleep.

What are you going to pay me for not killing you, Max? I assume you actually
want
to live?

Genevieve hadn’t been able to see Sean’s face when he uttered those words, but she’d recognized that cold tone—the tone Sean infrequently took when a frightening stranger seemed to take over his body. Part of her distantly wondered why Max didn’t scurry off that bed and run for his life.

Panic had assailed her. She’d tried to flee Max’s study, but he’d stood and grabbed her wrist roughly.

Genevieve moaned softly, trying to clear that ghastly memory of being in Max’s office on his death day out of her brain. Max’d taunted her on that day—given her crucial knowledge and then left her impotent to act on it.

“You were a
coward
, Max Sauren,” she whispered with blistering heat. “If Sean hadn’t killed you, maybe I would have.”

She winced when she heard her own words, shocked at the depth of her anger. All right, maybe she would never have resorted to murder, but when she thought of Max’s machinations, it left her feeling breathless with incredulity and fury, as if the blow had just been dealt.

But in that moment, she experienced the change, the difference in what she had been three years ago and what she was now.

Eventually, she stood and left the master bedroom. She wouldn’t be so anxious the next time she entered it.

 

 

 

When Sean entered the penthouse, he immediately walked to the threshold of the living room, wanting to see Genny, needing to see she was okay. He smiled when he saw that she’d made them a more elaborate bed on the floor, adding more blankets and pillows. She’d turned on the fireplace again and slept facing the flames. He stood stock-still for a minute, not moving until he saw the subtle rise and fall of her blanket-covered breasts.

Idiot
, a voice in his head scolded with dark amusement as he turned to activate the alarm. Hadn’t he heard of parents doing the same thing with their newborn infants, standing over their crib to ensure the infant breathed while it slept? It both amused and amazed him that he did the same thing with a woman.

Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. Having Genny here with him was a bit similar to what he imagined having a tiny little baby in your care might be like—the sense of wonder mixed with a profound anxiety regarding safety.

And then there was the sense of the fragility of their bond.

What he’d learned while he’d been down in his office only highlighted his rising anxiety. He’d spoken to his friend Joe in Indianapolis. Joe had looked for Albert Rook at his store and then at his apartment.

“He was here just last night, but there’s no sign of him now,” Joe had explained. “A couple people that work for him at that outdoor sporting goods store said he never came in today.”

“How do you know he was there last night?” Sean asked.

“One of his neighbors saw him walking up to his apartment yesterday.”

“What time?”

“She thought it was around six thirty P.M.,” Joe said.

“Did anyone notice him leaving?”

“Nope.”

Sean stroked his whiskered jaw, thinking. The first call about the Lake Forest mansion being on fire had come in at eight twenty-seven P.M. It took approximately three and a half hours to drive from Indianapolis to Chicago, and there was an hour difference in time zones. Rook
could
have done it, but it seemed highly improbable. There was always a chance he’d flown.

“Did the witness seem reliable?” Sean asked as he typed in a search for flight times from Indianapolis to Chicago on his computer.

“Hard to tell,” Joe replied. “She had an ass I could have bounced a quarter off, though.”

Sean had chuckled as his gaze ran down a column of flight departures. Joe had been insatiable during their Army days. Looked as if nothing had changed. “Did she agree to go out with you, and that’s why you’re questioning her character?”

“Hell no, she turned me down flat.”

“I’ll consider her a reliable witness then,” Sean’d murmured.

Genny rustled a little when he crawled beneath the blanket with her, but she didn’t awaken. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her gently next to his chest. Her scent filled his nostrils. He tilted his head back on the pillow and watched the snow falling outside the windows while he breathed in Genny’s fragrance.

He remembered what Detective Franklin had said earlier tonight.

Franklin was right. There was a rat nosing around. Sean suspected that rat was Rook. He’d give anything to know why the vermin dared to surface now.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

G
enevieve woke up in the middle of the night. She experienced no disorientation, despite the unfamiliarity of her surroundings. Maybe it was the feeling of Sean’s long, warm, hard body behind her, his scent that grounded her in the moment. She turned to look, careful not to awaken him. She just stared for several seconds, appreciating the sight of his rugged, handsome face in repose.

That sense of contentment had stolen back over her while she slept, she realized. She glanced out the windows and saw the thick snow falling, heard the howl of the wind.

As long as the storm lasted. That’s how long she had. As long as the storm held the city hostage, as long as they were trapped here, she wouldn’t have to face Jeff, wouldn’t have to face
herself
or question the wisdom of what she was doing.

She carefully slipped out from beneath Sean’s arm and rose to use the bathroom. When she returned a few minutes later, she paused several feet inside the room.

The firelight made his eyes gleam as he watched her. He’d pushed back the cover and lay on his side. He wore only a dark blue pair of soft pajama bottoms tied low around his narrow hips. Her gaze trailed over the tantalizing slant that led from his taut belly up to a powerful chest. His elbow was bent, his head resting in his hand.

He said nothing when she dropped to her knees and immediately sunk her fingers into the curly hair on his chest. He didn’t have a pelt, by any means, but his chest hair proclaimed his masculinity loud and clear. The crinkly hair felt delicious curling around her fingers while she touched hard, warm muscle beneath.

“Do you think I’m stupid for not wanting to sleep in the bedrooms?” she asked in a hushed tone as she continued to pet him.

“No,” he replied hoarsely. He still hadn’t moved as he watched her stroke him, but she felt the tension in his muscles. “I never sleep in the master bedroom, either. Not since New Year’s Eve three years ago.”

Her hand paused over a rounded, dense pectoral muscle. “You don’t?”

He shook his head.

For a few seconds nothing could be heard in the still room but the low howl of the wind moving across the windows.

“I was thinking about what happened on that night . . . New Year’s Eve,” she said, her tongue feeling heavy and awkward, as if it had a mind of its own and disapproved of her topic.

“I don’t regret it in the same way that you do. I can’t. It’s all I had of you, Genny.”

“Until now.”

“Until now,” he conceded quietly. He didn’t say anything else, but Genny sensed that he waited.

She cleared her throat and began to caress him again, watching the progress of her hand instead of meeting his gleaming eyes. “It’s not just . . . It’s not just what happened to Max directly afterward that makes me regret it, Sean.”

Her hand moved as he inhaled slowly. “You regret it because of the way it happened . . . the way we—
I
—made love to you.”

Genevieve nodded. She raised her fingers to his cheeks and lips, wishing she could make the guilt she saw shadow his rugged features disappear.

“I told you I was sorry, Genny. You have no idea how much. It was wrong to . . .”

“Share me with Max?” she asked when he faltered.

His blue eyes seemed to entreat her for understanding. “I know it’s not an excuse. I just wanted you so much. I was a fool to let it happen. My punishment was to lose you for all those years. Don’t make me suffer more.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “I’m not trying to make you
suffer
, Sean. It’s not my place to
punish
you.” Her breath caught in her throat. “I was just as much to blame.”

“
No
. Don’t say that.”

Her rising misery must have shown in her expression because he pulled her into his arms. He fell onto his back, bringing her with him. She lay with her cheek pressed to his chest, his arms wrapped around her. The feelings she’d tried desperately to contain since first seeing him last night broke free. Tears spilled onto his skin. Suppressed emotion rose in her chest and tightened her throat unbearably.

“I’d never done anything like that before!” she exclaimed.

She clenched her eyes as mortification waved through her. It’d just popped out of her throat, as though the words had been waiting there in her vocal cords, impatient to be uttered for three long years.

Sean pushed on her shoulders. He stared into her face, looking flabbergasted.

“I never said you had. I certainly never
thought
it.”

She shook her head and tears scattered down her cheek. “But Max seemed so comfortable about it all, and you acted like it was just par for the course for you, as well.”

His hands closed over the sides of her head. “Haven’t you been listening to me? Making love to you would never be
par for the course.
I hate myself for letting him touch you in front of me—I don’t care if he
was
your husband,” he roared, shattering the hushed, pregnant mood.

But Genevieve was so miserable that seeing the evidence of Sean’s dismay and disbelief couldn’t sidetrack her. The words just kept bubbling out of her mouth, as if a plug had been released and the contents burst forth under pressure. “I’ve tortured myself thinking about what you thought of me. It’s become like a daily ritual I force myself to endure.”

He sighed heavily. “Yeah . . . well, I’m familiar with that particular form of self-punishment myself.”

“And . . . and when I think about what we did that night . . .” Fresh tears gushed out of her eyes. “It was so out of character for me. I’m so ashamed.”

Sean blinked. A queer expression came over his face. “Wait . . . what do you mean?” he asked slowly. “Are you talking about the three of us having sex?”

“No!” she exclaimed heatedly. “I mean . . .
yes
, but not just that.” She moaned as regret swamped her. “God, Sean, I
told
you I didn’t want to talk about this. It was all so wrong.”

He used his hands to tilt up her face. “Look at me, girl, cuz I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”

She glanced up, meeting his gaze with difficulty.

“Not
all
of it was wrong, Genny.”

She inhaled unevenly when she saw the return of his steely-eyed, determined stare. He used his thumbs to wipe away the tears on her cheeks.

“Are you saying you regret letting me take control of your pleasure on that night?
Genny?
” he probed when she glanced away uncomfortably. “Talk to me. This is important.”

“I don’t know why I did.”

“Why you allowed it? Or why you liked it?”

She gave him a repressive glance. She didn’t appreciate him speaking of her vulnerabilities so easily.

“Genny,” he muttered, a trace of exasperation on his tone. “I had no idea this is part of what’s been making you so nervous, girl.”

“Do
not
make fun of me, Sean,” she warned.

“I’m not making
fun
of you! I just meant—” He paused and seemed to gather his thoughts when he saw the insulted expression on her face. “I just meant it would have been a lot easier to assure you that you had absolutely nothing to be ashamed about if I’d known what you were thinking. You’re an incredible, sexy, responsive woman. If you’d told me you were worrying about having submitted in bed, maybe we could have put this to rest a long time ago.”

She just stared at him, left mute by his casual mention of such a volatile topic—at least volatile for
her
; she had kept it locked up inside her for so many years.