The Prize (17 page)

“But they text and call, right?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t tell them where I am.”

He blew out a long breath. “Okay. I’ll keep this secret for you.”

“Thank you.”

“I have a meeting in five. Can we talk again later?”

“I thought you said once a day,” I teased.

“I said
at least
once a day.”

A wide grin spread across my face again. “Semantics.”

“Whatever works. Later.” He disconnected.

Chapter Nineteen

“Sorry I don’t have better news, but we got absolutely nothing out of Swarth’s mom,
and we haven’t located his father.”

I sighed. It wasn’t unexpected, but it was disappointing.

My back hurt from sitting on the hard kitchen chair working all day. I wasn’t sure
how long I could keep this up. I had been a private person for fifteen years, but
that didn’t mean I was a hermit. I liked to get out. Shop. Go to the grocery store.
Meet my friends for drinks.

Not that I had any friends in Charlotte. I didn’t know anyone locally except Parker.
And I sure as shit wasn’t going to meet him for drinks or otherwise. Mainly because
drinks would lead to “otherwise.”

“How are you holding up? You need anything?”

“No. The kitchen was well stocked. I’m fine. Just claustrophobic.”

“I’m sure. Can you hang in there a few more days?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll keep you posted.”

I ended the call and stretched my back. It ached in about six places from the hard
chair and the wrong computer height. I was used to having a giant monitor on a pedestal.

I needed exercise. My hair was back in a ponytail, and I still wore a uniform of T-shirts
and leggings. All I needed to add was a sports bra and I could surely find a way to
work out in the cramped apartment.

Ten minutes later, I was jogging in place, trying to get my blood pumping while glancing
around the room. Somehow I was confident I could get some exercise. I just needed
to get creative. How would the couch hold up if I used it as a trampoline? Or the
bed? I giggled.

And then I snapped my fingers when I remembered a step stool in the laundry closet.
I picked up my knees higher and headed that way. As soon as I had it in the middle
of the room, I was decked out for step aerobics. It could augment my apartment jogging.
Hell, I could grab some canned goods and use them as weights.

Forty-five minutes later, I was hot and sweaty and felt a hundred times better.

And my phone was ringing.

I grabbed it off the table and answered it, even though I could see it was Parker.
Again. He was relentless.

“Hey.” My voice was high-pitched as I tried to catch my breath.

“Meagan? What are you doing? Why are you out of breath?”

“Working out.” I hadn’t caught my breath yet to give a longer answer.

“Where?”

“Don’t get all pissy on me. I’m still in lockdown. I simply made do with what I had.”

“Lockdown, huh?”

“Parker, you’re a bright guy. It’s no real secret I’m in a safe house.”

He made some sort of noise and then paused several heartbeats. “Really?”

“Yes. Why are you shocked? Where did you think I was? The Ritz?”

“No… I just assumed you were stubborn and staying somewhere else. I didn’t think you
were being quite so proactive.”

“A man I shot, whose brother I killed, wants to make me pay. I’m not taking this lightly.
I’m hiding.”

“And you couldn’t stay here? No one even knew where you were. You could have stayed
indefinitely.”

“My car was out front. And my presence was endangering you.”

His voice rose. “
Me
. Please do not fucking tell me you left because you were afraid some asshole would
break in and harm
me
?”

I cringed, exasperated. “You done?”

“No.”

“I’m done. You want to talk to me, leave this subject alone. If you can’t, hang up.”

He didn’t speak again for a while.

His breathing was heavy in my ear, but he didn’t utter a syllable. I could picture
him pacing around his office, running his fingers through his hair until it stood
on end. When he finally spoke again, his voice was calmer. “If you wanted to stay
at the Ritz, I could arrange it, you know.”

I smiled. “I know. Stop worrying. I’m doing exactly what the detective tells me. I’m
perfectly safe.” At least I hoped I was. No matter how many times I’d gone through
the possibilities in my head, I couldn’t rationally come up with a way Swarth could
find me at the safe house.

“Branch?”

“Yes.” Why did I detect something strange in his voice? “What now?”

“Did he talk you into leaving my place to go to a safe house?”

“What?” My voice rose. “No. Don’t be ridiculous. I made this decision on my own. And
besides, who cares?”

He hesitated.

“What? Spit it out. Whatever you have to say. You’re going to say it eventually, anyway.
Just do it.”

“I bet Branch is damn pleased with himself. That’s all.”

“Pardon?” What the fuck was he talking about?

“Meagan, it’s obvious the man wants in your pants.”

I gasped. “Branch? Have you been smoking something? Jesus, Parker. And who even says
that anymore? In my pants? That’s absurd. He’s worked this case since I was ten. You
gonna tell me he’s been pining after me for fifteen years? A little girl with pigtails?”

“No. I’m telling you he’s had a hard-on for you since Monday when he saw you for the
first time as a grown woman.”

“That’s crazy.” Wasn’t it? “Did he tell you that?”

“No. He didn’t have to. I saw the way he looked at you when he dropped you off at
my house Monday night. And I spoke to him out front for a while.”

“He’s worried about me. I’m sure he doesn’t like his charges to end up dead. It looks
bad on the résumé.”

Parker sighed. “Fine. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m arguing with you about this.
I sound like a jealous boyfriend.”

“Yes. You do.”

“Let’s drop it.”

“Good plan. Permanently.”

A short pause ensued. I heard him breathing. “You’re safe, then?”

I hadn’t left the apartment a single time. Even the blinds were angled toward the
sky as if anyone could possibly see me through the windows on the fifth floor. “Yes.”

“I’ll let you go. Can I call you later?” he asked.

“Sure. I’m not going anywhere.”

I ambled into the bathroom and set the phone on the counter. After flipping on the
shower, I stripped out of my sweaty clothes and stepped into the small enclosure.
At least the water was consistently hot. The building obviously had a good system
because no matter how long I stood under the spray it never grew cold.

I closed my eyes as I lathered my hair and kept them closed while I leaned under the
spray. Shutting my eyes was dangerous, especially in the shower. Every time I did
so, I visualized Parker’s hands on my skin. I could feel him touching me as if he
were there.

After I put conditioner in my hair, I reached for the soap and my razor. Starting
with my legs, I worked my way upward. When I got to my pussy, I hesitated and then
decided to shave myself bare. I couldn’t explain why. It was simply a whim. Instead
of my usual routine of leaving a strip above my clit, I shaved it all.

It was heady, and every time I touched myself, I felt the smooth skin under my fingers
and moaned. I closed my eyes again and let my hand drift lower until I stroked through
my folds. Every sensation was heightened by the running mental image of Parker’s thick
fingers prodding my entrance. I wanted to push my own fingers into my needy channel,
but instead I envisioned Parker teasing me, depriving me of his touch where I most
needed it.

My legs were shaky, but I leaned against the tile wall and continued. When I flicked
a finger over my clit, I cried out, shocking myself. His words filled my mind.
“That’s it, hon. Feel the pressure building.”

I needed to come badly, but decided to draw out the pleasure. The orgasm would be
that much more satisfying if I held off. Denial.

After teasing myself until a tight ball ached in my belly, I removed my fingers and
finished my shower. By the time I flipped off the water and grabbed a towel, I had
one thing in mind. The need to come.

Combined with a mental running commentary from the man I was trying to forget, I was
a mess. It wasn’t a specific scene or words he’d spoken that I conjured, but simply
a reel of sentences I knew he would say.

“Step out, hon. Dry off. Keep your legs open. That’s a girl…”

The achy need grew. I bit my lip. As I hung the towel on the back of the door, a line
of my arousal ran down my thigh.

My hair dripped. I didn’t care.

“Leave it,”
Parker said in my head.
“Lie on your bed.”

I stepped gingerly out of the bathroom, grateful for the heat in the apartment that
kept me from shivering. My bed was unmade. Who cared? It wasn’t as though anyone would
see it.

I stumbled forward and climbed onto the mattress, settling on my back.

“Bend your knees. Plant your heels. Spread your thighs.”

I did as the voice instructed, grabbing my thighs with my hands and glancing at my
pebbled nipples. I was way past the need to tease them into hard points to get aroused.

“Wider. I want to be able to see you.”

I spread open farther, holding myself with my fingers.

“Now, pull your folds open. Show me that sweet cunt.”

I shuddered as I mentally used that naughty word that made me wetter.

“So pink. So wet. I love how aroused you get for me.”

I panted, amazed at how horny I could get without touching myself. I could explode
with the right commands. I lifted my ass off the bed as if presenting myself to the
imaginary Dom at my feet.

“So fucking sexy. Touch your clit. Pinch it between your fingers.”

I eased my hands from my thighs to the tight bundle of nerves pleading for attention.
Without hesitating to acclimate myself, I pinched it hard.

“That’s enough.”

I let go, almost shocked by the words as if I weren’t the one who came up with them.
My clit pulsed with need.

“That’s my girl. Deep breaths. You don’t have permission to come yet.”

If by deep breaths, the imaginary Parker meant
pant
, then I wasn’t in defiance.

“Suck your juices off your fingers.”

I lifted the hand I’d used to stroke through my folds and sucked my pointer and middle
finger into my mouth. It was the second time I’d tasted myself, and it turned me on.

“Circle your nipple with the wetness, hon.”

I eased my hand down to my breast and traced the edge of my areola several times.
The tip puckered, making me needier.

“I love the way your tits swell when you’re aroused. It makes me so hot.”

In my mind he stood next to me, stroking his hand up and down his thick length, the
tip dripping with precome. “I need to come,” I said out loud.

“I know, hon. Channel that feeling. Let it build.”

Why did he like to put me off?

“The orgasm is so much stronger when you draw it out.”

I used both hands to play with my nipples.

“Twist them, hon. Until it hurts.”

I followed his instructions, writhing at the pleasure/pain. I dug my heels into the
bed, willing him to give me permission to touch myself until I came.

“That’s good. I’m proud of you. It’s hard to hold off like that. Takes strength. Stroke
your folds again now.”

My hands smoothed down my body toward my sex as if they belonged to someone else.
I teased my outer lips gently at first until they were engorged.

“Fuck yourself. Slowly. Two fingers. Drag them over your G-spot.”

I reached inside with controlled fingers when what I really wanted to do was thrust
hard and fast. Angling my fingers forward, I rasped them over my G-spot and groaned
at the sensation.

“Play with your clit with your other hand, hon. I want to see it swell.”

I circled it first and then pressed my finger against the heated nub. My other fingers
still grazed across my G-spot.

“Harder. Fuck yourself, hon. Let it build.”

I thrust my fingers in and out of my pussy until I stopped breathing and did nothing
but concentrate on the pressure growing inside me, threatening to explode. I would
shatter into a thousand pieces when I came.

“Come, Meagan. Come for me.”

On a long moan, I fell apart, the pulsing inside me matching the throb of my clit.
I didn’t remove my fingers until I was completely spent, and then I lingered several
more moments to savor the aftereffects.

When I could breathe again, I curled onto my side and pulled the covers over my naked
body. I didn’t have the energy to move, let alone get up.

It was still light outside, but the sun was falling. I just needed a short nap…