CHAPTER THREE
Lilli woke from the dream on full alert, on her feet and on the defensive before she was fully conscious. After a tense second, she realized where she was and concentrated on pushing the adrenaline surge down. She woke like this three or four mornings a week, sometimes in the middle of the night, too, so the process was routine.
Better than coffee, she supposed, for getting the day started quickly.
By the ambient light in the room, she guessed it wasn’t long past dawn. She went to the dresser and fished her phone out of her pocket to check the time: 5:52am. Good morning, Signal Bend. She went into the shitty little bathroom.
Her stomach growled. She’d never had much of the burger she’d shared with Isaac last night, and it was pushing 24 hours since she’d eaten anything else. Plus, she might not strictly need coffee, but it was a nice start to the day nonetheless. Sadly, she had nothing in the house yet. Fuck.
Okay. Run first, then find that diner Mac Evans recommended—Marie’s, she remembered—for some breakfast. Then errands to stock the place up. She rummaged through one of her duffels and dug out a pair of spandex running shorts and a top. She combed her fingers through her hair and yanked it into a high ponytail. She found her trail running shoes in the other duffel. She intended to run through what served as residential areas, but there was a lot of gravel out here, and she didn’t want to roll an ankle.
She hid her keys behind the garage. Signal Bend was probably one of those towns where nobody ever locked anything, but Lilli protected her shit. She had shit to protect.
Running through Signal Bend and the surrounding countryside gave Lilli a different insight from what she’d seen from the Camaro. The homes were widely spaced, even in town. A lot of them were obviously empty. Even banks seemed to have abandoned them. All that remained were swing sets rusting in yards, sometimes a car on blocks, weeds growing up through the engine. She passed one car with a tree growing through the back seat and out the empty rear window.
The occupied houses she passed were often lovely and quaint in their simplicity. Lilli saw lots of washing hung on lines, sheets catching the breeze and early morning sun. Just after six in the morning, and women were deep into their chores. Country life. It wasn’t a world Lilli had grown up in.
She noticed that she was noticed as she ran. People—women and small children in their yards, men passing in trucks and tractors—gawked as she passed them. Isaac had told her that people don’t move to Signal Bend, so she was obviously a curiosity as a new person in their midst.
She ran for nearly an hour, judging by her pace that she’d gone about eight miles or so, when she was ready to head back. She wanted to loop rather than simply turn around, so that she could see more of the town, but she wasn’t sure she had her bearings well enough to accomplish it.
Oh, well, one way to find out. She had her father’s sense of direction. She’d figure it out.
It was coming up on 8am, and she’d run about sixteen miles, when she turned onto the gravel road that would become the driveway to her little rental. She saw the bike pulled up in front of the garage as she crested the last hill. She’d only seen it a couple of times, never clearly or up close, but she guessed this was Isaac’s Harley. He’d already gotten some intel on her, then.
And this was why she locked her shit.
She saw him sitting on the steps of the little wooden deck leading to the sliding glass back door. He was leaning back against the steps, his hands linked across his chest, his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. Damn, he was big. And not hard at all to look at. Well-worn black engineer boots. Dark straight-leg Levis. Black button-down shirt, folded back on his arms and open at the throat. Leather cuffs. Leather kutte. Black Ray-Bans. He looked like Mr. June in the Harley Biker Beefcake calendar.
She took all that in by the time she’d reached the garage. Without indicating that she’d also seen him, she paused at his bike, breathless from her run, and gave it a once-over. It was a nice bike, a huge black Dyna. Had some miles on it, but it was obviously well cared for.
“You like?” Isaac called over from the porch, where he was still sitting in the exact same position.
Lilli turned to him and shrugged. It pleased her to see him cock his head, as if he’d expected to startle her with his presence. “It’s nice. I prefer something with a bit more speed.”
She had to get her keys, which meant he was going to see that she’d hidden them. Letting him see where wasn’t a problem—she could hide them elsewhere—but seeing that she had gave up a lot. Another new plan she needed. This biker was getting in her way. She went behind the garage and dug them out.
He was still sitting in the same position when she walked up to the deck. Even behind his sunglasses, his eyes were devouring her, she could tell.
“That bike is plenty fast, Sport. You ride?”
“I do.”
“What d’you ride?”
“Last bike I had was a BMW—K 1300S.”
He looked impressed, his eyebrow cocking up above his Ray-Bans. “Not much for the crotch rockets, but that’s a lotta bike for a girl.”
“Same thing you said about my car. Like I said, I like speed.”
“Like I said, my bike’s plenty fast. But it’s about more than speed, Sport—or maybe you prefer Lillian.”
She didn’t miss a beat. As soon as she’d seen his bike in front of her garage, she’d known he had her name. “I don’t, actually. I prefer Lilli. Three Ls, two Is. Got an early start this morning, I see.”
He stood and took a long stride, so that he was standing right in front of her, looming over her. She was tall, but by her estimate, he had a good nine inches on her, at least. “Actually, haven’t been to bed yet. It’s still last night for me. My guy tells me you’re Lillian Carson, from Austin, Texas.” Brazenly, he slid his hand into the front of her running shorts, hooking his fingers over the waistband. He made a growling noise in the back of his throat. “Girl, these are the tiniest shorts I’ve ever seen. They distract a man from his work.”
She liked his hand where it was. Her attraction to this man didn’t surprise her; if she’d been asked to describe what she found sexiest, she’d pretty much describe him head to toe. And she was by no stretch of the imagination shy or prudish. Under normal circumstances, she’d have few qualms about putting him on the ground and mounting him right here. But he could be a danger to her. He had power—what she’d seen last night told her that he was the power in this scant little town and probably for some distance around it. It could be problematic if their needs crossed.
The question she asked herself, as her body responded enthusiastically to his touch, was whether she was better off keeping him close or keeping her distance.
She smiled up at him, seeing the sass of it reflected in the lenses of his sunglasses. “Work? That what you’re here for?”
He turned his hand so that his palm was flat on her belly and then pushed it around, still partially under her shorts, until he hooked it over her left hip. She saw him notice the ink there and felt his thumb trace it. She managed to keep her heart steady and her breath even, but it was becoming a struggle. His palm was hot and rough on her bare skin.
“Well, work to start. See, my guy found something pretty interesting. I like to be forthright. I’m not much for poker. Chess is my game. Think it serves everybody best if things are laid out neat. So I thought I’d run it by you. He tells me he came up quick against a wall, looking into you. Not a lot of history. I find that . . . intriguing. You pop out of a pod a few months ago, all shiny and new?”
Okay. So he had a decent hacker in the club. Good to know. Not necessarily a crisis, though definitely a problem and a potential risk. At best, again, Isaac was changing the way she intended to do things. And her decision was made.
Keep him close. She couldn’t say she was sorry about that.
Lilli shared Isaac’s affection for forthrightness. As much of the truth as possible was always the best approach. Getting caught out in a lie always made everything more dangerous. Only as much subterfuge as was necessary.
“No, no pod. Don’t suppose you’ll just let that wall stand?”
He tossed his head back and laughed, a deep, mirthful sound that made Lilli’s running shorts all the wetter. When he looked down at her again, his lopsided smile was broad and bright. “Sorry, no. You could make it easier on Bart and let me take a peek over it, tell me why it’s there.”
“Where would be the fun in that?” Her keys hooked on a finger, she reached up and undid a couple of buttons on his shirt. Around his neck, he wore a leather cord with a small silver medallion; it was nested in a moderate coverage of dark curls on his chest. She did love a hairy chest. She circled her fingers in it and felt his hand grip her hip hard.
He growled again, shaking his head. “I don’t like secrets, Sport.” His free hand gripped the back of her neck, and he came down close, not yet kissing her, though she could feel his beard tickling her chin.
She reached around his neck and brought his braid forward over his shoulder, pulling the elastic band loose from its end and running her finger through the middle to undo it. She wanted to see his hair. “Would you believe me if I told you it doesn’t concern you?” She truly didn’t know whether it did concern him, but the question she asked was not a lie.
“Everything that happens in this town concerns me.” He tipped his head back and shook his hair loose. Then he pulled his sunglasses off and tossed them onto the deck. In the daylight, his eyes were even more intensely green, rimmed with dark emerald and changing gradually to peridot at the pupil. The thought occurred to her that a man like this might object to having his eyes described in terms of gemstones, and she was amused.
His hair was beautiful, thick and dark and wavy from the braid. She took a handful of it and pulled him down until his lips were heavy on hers.
He kissed her fiercely, his tongue thrusting immediately into her mouth, going deep. She matched his with her own, reveling in the scratch of his beard against her face. She hooked her arms around his neck and fed both hands into his hair, grabbing it tightly into her fists. He shifted his hands so that she was encompassed by his long, thick arms.
His chest was a broad rock wall crushing her breasts. Fuck, the man was all elemental sex. She moaned and tore her mouth free, tipping her head back to take a deep inhale. He shifted again, and she felt his hand on her throat, lightly, his thumb tracing a path down its length. She brought her head forward and met his intense gaze.
“I mean to fuck you, Sport, secrets or not. Now’s the time to say you don’t want it.”
She grinned. She wanted it. But she’d play a little coy. “I have a pretty full day planned. Breakfast, errands. You weren’t on my calendar. And I just ran a long way. I’m sweaty, and I stink.”
“Yes, you do. I like it. I want you sweaty.” He pulled her hips sharply against his thighs, pressing his erection to her belly. “How ‘bout I buy you breakfast after?”
She released one of her hands from his hair and dragged it lightly around his neck, stopping when she got to the place where his shirt was open on his chest. She spread her fingers through the hair there, and he took in a breath and closed his eyes. “Can I eat my own, or are we sharing again?” she asked.
He opened his eyes and winked. He was enjoying the banter as much as she was. “You don’t like sharing with me?”
“Barely got any of my burger last night.”
“Hey—that wasn’t my fault.” He cocked his eyebrow at her. “I’m not hearin’ you say no, Sport.”
She pushed away from him, and disappointment passed over his face, but she grabbed his hand. “Gotta go in the front. I don’t have a key for the slider.”
He let her lead him around the house. As she unlocked the door, he said, “Nobody locks around here, you know. Folks trust each other. You want to blend in, you should pick up the customs.”
She opened the door and stepped in, turning back with a welcoming gesture. “And yet you were skulking around while I was away. You’d have been inside if the door weren’t locked, right?”
He came in and took the door from her to close it. “Hey, I was worried. Your cage was here, you weren’t. Thought there was trouble. Who’d’ve thought you were running around town in your underwear. On purpose.” Without even a pause, he grabbed her arm and turned her, pushing her front-first against the wall. He leaned down, and she felt his beard on the skin of her shoulder. Growling again, he licked from her shoulder to behind her right ear. “You taste great—salt and musk, and something sweet.” His hands went around her hips and into her shorts, pushing between her legs. “Oh, yeah. Feel how wet you are.”
The fingers of one hand probed her core; the others moved over her clit. The pads of his fingers were calloused and hard, making her nerve endings catch fire. She moaned and put her hands on his, over her shorts, pressing him harder to her tender skin. Then, with a quick, forceful move, she shoved him back, gasping as his hands slid roughly out of and away from her. She turned and grabbed his kutte, yanking him back. Leaning in and going to her toes, she pressed her mouth to the base of his neck and bit down. He jerked and grabbed her ponytail, pulling her head back. She liked it rough, but she wanted to make it clear to him that she gave as good as she got.
He laughed, his eyes sparkling. “You like a tussle, do ya? Why doesn’t that surprise me at all?” Grabbing her ass in his large hands, he lifted her up along his body, hooking her legs behind him, until they were crotch to crotch. He was hard against her core, and she could tell he had substantially more to offer than average. She draped her arms over his shoulders, looping his hair lightly around her fingers. He headed down the little hallway.
“Bedroom’s to the—” she stopped when he automatically turned left, the correct direction. She furrowed her brow at him.
He winked. “It’s a small town, Sport. Don’t think there’s a house I haven’t been in. You’re living in the Olsens’ old place.”
He went straight into the “master” bedroom. When he saw the bed, though, he stopped and let her legs drop until she was on her feet. “Well, gotta say, I expected sheets and pillows.”
There was nothing on the mattress but her sleeping bag. “Told you I had errands. I need to get some bedding. Are you saying you’re too soft to fuck on a bare mattress?”
“Saucy wench.” He put his hands around her waist and tossed her onto the bed. Before she could react, he snatched the sleeping bag out from under her, dropping it to the floor. Then he had her foot, yanking her running shoe off without untying it. Sock. The other shoe. The other sock. He took her bare feet in his hands and pressed his thumbs into her arches. He hit exactly the right spot to make her feet and legs—which had very recently run a long distance—relax exquisitely, and she moaned.
“Oh, I do like that sound.” He loomed over her and grabbed the waistband of her shorts. She lifted her hips, and he tugged them down and away in one swift, determined move. He stood at the side of the bed and looked down at her greedily. Seemed like she had the kind of effect on him that he had on her. She sat up and scooted to sit on the bed in front on him.
When she put her hands on the big silver buckle of his belt, he growled again. She liked that sound, felt it right between her legs. As she opened his belt and began to unbutton his jeans, he bent over her and grabbed the hem of her snug running tank, his blunt nails grazing her back as he pulled it up. The tank served as bra, too, so it was tight. She stopped what she was doing and helped him pull it off. Now, she was nude.
“Fuck. You’re gorgeous, Sport.” The words were little more than a breath. When she looked up and met his eyes, his expression had changed to something intense and unreadable.
She opened his jeans. She was pleased to see that he wore boxer briefs—in this case, black. Considering the Johnny Cash vibe he had going generally, couture-wise, they were probably always black. As far as Lilli was concerned, there were only two ways for a man to wear underwear—boxer briefs or not at all. The lump of his erection was impressive and extended down his leg, even as it swelled and curved. She slid her hands into his waistband and pulled his length free. Wow. Nice. Long and thick. And hard as steel. She wrapped her hands around him and squeezed. His hips rocked toward her as he growled again.
He shrugged his kutte off his shoulders and, while she held his cock in her hands, folded it and leaned over to lay it on the dresser. Lilli thought that said a lot about this man. She let go of him and raised her hands to unbutton the rest of the buttons of his shirt. He watched her, his hands on her shoulders. When she was done, he shrugged it off and let it drop to the floor in a pool.
Lilli took in the wide expanse of his chest. Jesus Christ, he was beautiful. Arms, chest, abs, all of it perfectly defined, dark curls covering his pecs and then tapering to a trail into the black nest around his cock. Both shoulders and his arms to his elbows were covered in intricate blackwork ink. His chest and belly were free of ink. He was standing before her, tall and broad and beautiful, his long, sable hair loose on his back. Without thinking at all, she grabbed his hips and leaned forward to press her lips to his hard, ridged belly. She ran her tongue through the hair around his navel. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d been so viscerally attracted to another human being. It almost had to be a pheromone thing, their chemistry just perfectly in sync.
She felt his hand in her hair, curling her ponytail around his fist, forcing her to look up at him. “I want head. I want that fuckable, red mouth on me.”
He did, did he? She smirked at him. “Yeah? What are you gonna do for me? Tit for tat, love.”
He reached down and took her left nipple between his fingers, giving it sharp tug, making her gasp and moan. His mouth on her ear, making her heart race, he whispered, “Tit for tat, huh? How ‘bout I make you scream until your throat cramps? You swallow, Sport, and I’ll make it happen twice.” He stood straight again, challenge in his eyes.
After a beat to steady her voice, she smiled at him. “You think you’ve got that kind of stamina?”
“You doubt me? By the time we leave for breakfast, you won’t ever again.”
Gauntlet thrown. She nodded and sucked his length into her mouth. “Ah, yeah. Yeah,” he growled. It had been awhile, and he was big, but she was good at this. She relaxed her throat and took him all in. “Fuck!” he groaned, and then his hips were moving hard. His fist in her ponytail and his hips moving like that, he had control of the situation. She didn’t want that. She gave head on her terms. She put her hand around his balls and squeezed, steadily increasing the pressure until she had his attention.
“Hey! What the fuck’re you doin’, Sport?”
Easing the pressure on his balls, she pulled him out of her mouth and licked her lips. Meeting his glare steadily, she said, “My rules. I set the rhythm. Hold still or let go of my hair.” He stared for a few seconds and then nodded. Since he didn’t let go of her hair, she figured he meant to hold still.
And he did. As she worked him, taking him deep, sucking, licking, nipping lightly, he kept his fist loosely in her ponytail but did not constrict or try to control her movements. As he got close, his hips began to flex gently, but he tried to stop. He was grunting rhythmically, in time with her movements, until he put his other hand on her head, his fingers gripping her scalp. “Now, now, yeah, fuck yeah.” When he came he held her head tightly to him, but she didn’t care. He filled her mouth with hot, heavy liquid, and she swallowed around him. He tasted sweet and salty. Yep. Pheromones.
When he was finished, she pulled away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. He was staring at her, dazed, his eyes at half-mast. “That was fucking incredible.”
She pushed back on the bed and spread her legs wide. “Better not have worn you out.”
He grinned impishly and stripped the rest of his clothes off. “No way. I’m tireless.” As he tossed his jeans away, he caught his wallet chain and pulled the wallet up. He took two condoms out and dropped the wallet onto the pile that was his jeans. Then he crawled over her on the bed. Propped on his hands, he hovered. “You are a fuckin’ sexy bitch, you know that?” He bent his arms and came down to kiss her.
She grabbed his hair in her fists and pulled him down to lie on her. Before he settled, she tried to flip them over, but he was quite heavy, and she only managed to rock him a bit. Laughing against her mouth, he pushed her shoulder flat on the mattress. “I don’t think so. My rules now.” His hands holding her shoulders down, he kissed along her jawline to her ear, sucking on the lobe for several intense seconds, then continued his journey, licking and sucking his way down her neck, over her collarbone, to her breast.
He was still soft; she could feel him on her leg, but when he drew her nipple between his teeth, sucking firmly and making her cry out and arch her back off the bed, she felt him lengthen and turn to steel. “Ah, yeah. That’s it, baby. Your tits are so firm and sweet.” He suckled her again, growling. The vibrations of sound against her flesh made her quiver. The tickle and scratch of his beard made her shiver. He released her shoulders to cup her breasts, and she wove her fingers into his hair. He kissed a trail across her chest and paid the same careful attention to the other breast. His hands moved down her sides. His mouth followed, kissing down her belly, his tongue laving her belly button, and then continuing downward.
It all felt great, but Lilli was too turned on for this sweet bullshit. She didn’t want him to make love to her. She wanted him to fuck her. He was supposed to be making her scream. Twice. She yanked hard on his hair, and he pulled his head up, his brow wrinkled. “You yanked?”
“Are you gonna fuck me or not?”
She’d hurt his feelings. That surprised her. Isaac did not read like a guy who preferred satiny, sweet lovemaking. He read like a guy who liked a rough, leathery grapple. As she did.
He pulled himself back over her so that they were face to face. “You want to get fucked, Sport? You’re gonna get fucked.” He reached over to the corner of the mattress, where he’d laid the condoms. As soon as he’d rolled one on, he grabbed her leg and shoved it straight up in the air, pushing it back to her chest, spreading her wide. He gave her a look that said he’d expected that to be uncomfortable, and it was indeed a stretch, but she had years of yoga to prepare her to get fucked like this, and she just looked steadily back at him. He yanked her onto her side and shoved himself into her, letting go of her leg and pressing it down with his shoulder.
Propping himself on one hand, with the other he grabbed her nipple and pinched it hard. She cried out. Okay, this is more what she had in mind. He was thrusting into her deep and fast, pulling and twisting her nipple. The unfamiliar position gave her few options to participate; he had her fully under his control. So she went with it, savoring the deep intensity of his sideways entry, the sharp thrill of his fingers around her nipple. She was elevating quickly, heat pooling in her joints. She started moaning loudly every time he went deep. She was working her other breast as savagely as he was working the one he had; when he noticed, his eyes got dark, and he sped up his thrusts.
When she could remember to open her eyes, she watched him, saw him concentrating. Sweat ran down his temples into his beard. His chest was wet with it, dewy drops beading in the hair over his pecs. Knowing that he had to work so hard to keep his promise thrilled her endlessly.
Then he grabbed her leg and pulled out, flipping her to her belly with a growl. He was growling almost constantly now. He yanked her onto her knees, grabbing her ponytail and yanking her head back, and he was inside her again, pounding hard, the hair on his legs scratching at her thighs every time they slammed together. Okay, she was coming; he was so fucking deep, stretching her wide. She bucked against him, making as much noise as he was, her breath coming in something like shrieks now. “Fuck, Isaac. Fuck, it’s good.”
“Not enough,” he rasped. “I want you screaming, baby.”
He yanked her hair again, pulling her off her hands, bringing her back hard against his chest. With his other hand, he reached around and slapped her clit sharply. The sensation was like an electric bolt through her, and she cried out and arched hard. He did it again. And again. Then over and over, quick, sharp slaps, until she was coming so hard she could feel her juices running down her legs, even as his thrusts filled her, and she was screaming and screaming.
When it was over, he laid her down on the bed, and she relaxed, her muscles liquid, her brain muzzy. That was way up on the list of her best orgasms ever. Top three, anyway. Maybe higher. But he wasn’t done. He was still moving inside her, still hard as granite. He hadn’t come. “I owe you another one,” he murmured behind her before biting down on her shoulder.