Chapter 15
—Coffee won’t solve all your problems, but it’s a good start.—
Lucy opened her eyes, surprised to find herself in bed—in her rumpled dress. The last thing she remembered was cuddling up to Leighton on the couch after baring her soul to him. He must have carried her in here. And she must have been bone tired to not remember that. More like emotionally drained and ready to sleep for a week.
Sitting up, she stretched, looking around her room. There were no signs of him. He’d probably left. Which…was just as well. She wasn’t going to get morose over it.
She wasn’t.
Ugh. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she started stripping. Her dress definitely needed to be dry cleaned and she needed coffee. Grabbing her favorite silky pink and black robe from the back of her tufted chair by the window overlooking downtown, she headed into the kitchen.
And found Leighton sitting at the island, looking at something on his phone. Oh, and he was totally shirtless.
Which was pretty much all she could focus on as she stared at him. His chest was broad, muscular and nicked with little scars, some faded white with time, others pinker, indicating he’d gotten them more recently. She wasn’t sure what he did for a living, not really, but clearly it was very dangerous.
“I thought you’d left,” she murmured, stepping into the room.
Natural light filtered down from the high, rectangular-shaped windows that lined the east wall of the room. They were too high for anyone from neighboring buildings to see in, allowing her to enjoy privacy and a lot of light.
He frowned as he pushed back from his chair. “I’m not leaving you.”
There was something about the way he said those words that punched straight to her heart. But she shoved those feelings away. People left. It was simply the way life was. Nothing was permanent. “Hmm. Do I smell coffee?”
Half-smiling, he rounded the countertop and brushed his lips over hers, his kiss sweet and possessive at the same time. “I’ll make you a cup,” he murmured, stepping back. Something about him seemed almost tense this morning.
“Everything okay?” she asked, sitting at the island. She smiled at his neatly folded shirt on the countertop. He must have slept on the couch or in her guestroom.
His back was to her, his shoulders tense as he made a sort of grunting sound. Which definitely wasn’t an answer. Maybe he regretted what they’d done last night.
The thought made her cold inside because she’d certainly enjoyed it. And wanted more of it. Not that she should even be thinking of that. When she spotted a little color of…something under Leighton’s folded shirt, she reached out and pushed his shirt out of the way. There was another file under it. This one was different than the ones he’d given her. The folder itself was greenish-colored, older and faded.
“Ah…” He set a cup of coffee and a bottle of creamer in front of her and gently moved the file over and out of her reach. “I wasn’t sure how much creamer you wanted.”
“What’s in the file? And where did it even come from?” she asked as she started fixing her coffee the way she liked it. She found herself blushing when his gaze dipped to the gap in the top of her robe. The man had made her orgasm last night, had buried his face between her legs and teased her until she came. She shouldn’t be blushing over a heated look.
“Ah. Gage dropped this off.” He looked more than just a little uncomfortable as he picked up his own mug and took a long sip of his coffee.
“Well that doesn’t answer my other question.” When he didn’t respond, she sighed. “If you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine.” She wasn’t going to push. Lucy had so much on her plate right now, most of which she didn’t want to deal with. She wasn’t sure she could handle more.
“It’s not that. I simply don’t know if I should tell you.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, tension radiating from him in a way that couldn’t be faked.
Her radar started pinging. “Should I be scared? What’s going on?”
“Not scared. It’s…there’s something in this file that will hurt you. Not physically. I just…I don’t know if you need the information.”
She frowned. “I don’t like people making decisions for me.”
“And I don’t want to make this one for you. After last night, I don’t want secrets between us. Not any more than necessary,” he added.
“Is it about my uncle? Those girls?”
“Your uncle. And…your parents.”
Dread settled inside her, its roots spreading out with angry little stabs. “My parents?”
“Yeah.” His jaw was tight, his dark eyes filled with concern.
“My parents are dead.” Something he very well knew even before her confession last night. The words came out stilted as chunks of ice broke off in her veins. What could he possibly have to tell her?
“I know what you’ve thought your whole life. And the official police report backs it up.”
She blinked at his words. “Let me see the file.”
His jaw clenched again, but he plucked it up and slid it over to her. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “So sorry.”
Those roots inside her spread out, twisting her insides up as she opened it. There were the basic notes from the local police department and the name of the detective who’d been in charge of the case. Then there was an official report from an FBI agent named Daniel Jones related to her parents. Her father specifically. And the report had nothing to do with his suicide. Not really. She started scanning the scribbly little notes from the agent talking about a witness. She flipped the page and froze for a moment. Her father’s handwriting. He had been the witness.
She’d know that bold script anywhere. The paper was clearly a copy of the original but the paper showed the faded age of the copy, a little brown around the edges. Her father had liked to leave little notes for her mom and Lucy, telling them to have a good day. Telling them he loved them. Telling her to make smart choices and to be kind to people. She’d found some other notes after… Well, after. Notes to her mom. They’d been a lot more intimate, though not too much for her to read. They’d been sweet and full of poetry. Not the words of a man who planned to kill his wife and then himself.
And leave his daughter an orphan.
She continued reading and found her hands getting clammy, a chill invading her entire system as she took in her father’s words. He’d made a statement to an FBI agent. He’d made the difficult decision to turn on his own brother, Alexei Kuznetsov. Not because he didn’t love his brother. But because what his brother had done was wrong. He’d killed a man who wouldn’t pay protection money. Mr. Sokolov.
Oh God, she remembered Mr. Sokolov and his family. He’d had two little girls. This had been back when her parents and uncle had been making decent money, but nowhere near the kind her uncle made now. They’d been upper middle class back then and had run a few shops downtown.
Her father went on to say in his statement that the reason he was coming forward was because Mr. Sokolov was a father just trying to provide for his family. It was so eloquent, so very much her dad. This was the man she remembered. The man who’d loved and adored her mother. The man who’d taken her out for special ice cream dates and told her she was lucky to be an American but that she couldn’t ever forget where her parents had come from, that she had such a rich history. That she could be anything she wanted when she grew up. An astronaut if she chose.
Tears welled up but she brushed them away as she kept reading on to the next page. He’d given the FBI everything he had, but unfortunately they wanted more. An actual confession from her uncle. And her sweet, wonderful papa had agreed to wear a wire in an attempt to get that confession.
She flipped to the next page, then the next. And on and on. There was a whole page of notes from Agent Jones on how he suspected that her uncle had staged the murder/suicide. Some of the coroner’s notes didn’t feel right so he’d gone to question the coroner.
And the coroner had been found dead from an apparent mugging gone wrong. And the detective who’d been assigned to the case? Also dead. By carbon monoxide poisoning. A “tragic accident.” The agent thought the detective had been dirty though. And that her uncle had killed him simply to tie up loose ends. By then her parents’ bodies had been released into her uncle’s care and cremated. Even if the Feds had wanted to do their own autopsies, it would have been impossible.
Oh God. Oh God. He killed them.
Lurching up, she shoved the papers away, racing for the sink. She threw up the little coffee she had and kept dry heaving as a strong, steady hand rubbed up and down her spine in a soothing motion. Leighton was murmuring something in soft tones, though she couldn’t make out the actual words.
“He killed them,” she whispered, finally lifting her head from the sink. She felt hollowed out as she stood.
“It’s not a hundred percent but…” Leighton’s voice was quiet, soothing.
“He did.” She fully stood, looked up to meet his gaze. “It makes more sense than my father killing my mother. I…just accepted it because I was thirteen. But it never made sense to me then. There was never any violence in my house. Just love. Oh God, my papa never would have killed her,” she sobbed out and found herself enveloped in strong, comforting arms.
Lucy wasn’t sure how long she cried, but she couldn’t stop herself. She cried for her parents, for the life they could have had, for all the years she’d spent hating her father for what he’d done. She cried until the light shifted slightly and she had no more tears.
She had nothing to say, couldn’t find any words as she pushed back from Leighton. She didn’t want him to leave, but she also couldn’t find anything to say right now.
She turned from him, stumbling from the room, not quite sure where she was going. When she found herself in her bathroom, she turned the shower to hot and quickly brushed her teeth to get rid of the taste in her mouth. She got in before it had time to heat up. The cold water blasted her, but she barely felt it. When it turned from cold to hot, she let it beat against her shoulders and back as she stood there, steam billowing around her.
“Lucy?” She heard Leighton’s voice from outside the huge tiled shower, but she ignored him.
“Are you okay… I mean, obviously you’re not okay.” He said something else that she couldn’t hear, then, “Jesus, Lucy, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have told you.”
“No. I’m glad you did,” she found herself saying. She felt as if she’d lost ten pounds from all the crying, as if she might fall over, but at the same time, she knew in her heart that her father had never killed her mother. That he hadn’t hurt her sweet mama. Hadn’t left Lucy all alone. She’d known it, deep down she had, even as she’d hated her father.
Or thought she had. She closed her eyes, taking in a breath to steady herself. No way her father would have hurt her mother or her. Her heart, her instinct, knew that.
“I’m coming in.” Leighton stepped into the enclave of the big walk-in shower.
The huge shower was one of the reasons she’d bought the condo. It was a certifiable luxury. He averted his eyes and didn’t seem to care that his jeans were getting soaked.
“I don’t know if you should be alone. Are you…okay? Truly?” So much concern laced his words, his eyes still averted as he basically covered them.
The sight of this strong, wonderful man covering his eyes was somehow absurd. “You don’t have to look away. You can…get undressed and join me.” The words came out strong because she meant them.
His gaze snapped to hers, those dark eyes sparking fire. “What?”
“You’re already halfway there. Just…” She motioned to his pants. He started to protest and she shook her head. “If you say some bullshit about not wanting to take advantage of me, I’m not liable for what I might do.”
He still looked as if he wanted to protest, but he moved quickly, stripping off his jeans and well, nothing. Because he had on nothing under his jeans. Damn, that was sexy.
She stared in awe for a long moment as his thick, full cock curved upward against his lower abdomen.
Holy. Hell.
She hadn’t been sure what she’d been asking of him until this moment. She thought she’d just wanted someone to hold her in the shower. Now…she needed a whole lot more. But it couldn’t be because he felt sorry for her.
Lucy looked into his dark eyes as he moved farther in the shower. Little water droplets bounced off that rock-hard chest she wanted to kiss and lick. “I don’t want your pity,” she rasped out. “Be here because you want it.”
He blinked in true surprise. Then he let out a harsh laugh. “Pity? Not possible,” he growled. “I want you more than any woman. Ever. I don’t want you to regret me.”
“Regret…you?” Had he looked in the mirror lately?
Leighton settled his hands on her hips as he tugged her close. He wasn’t sure why she was surprised. The woman was not only stunning, but kind and authentic. And he felt all fucked up and broken. Of course he was worried she’d regret this.
But he wasn’t walking away. He wasn’t that noble. And Lucy called to a part of him he thought was dead. He’d been on autopilot the last couple years.
He sure as hell wasn’t on autopilot now. “I should get out of here. I should…but I don’t want to. I won’t. Unless you tell me to.”
“Kiss me,” she softly demanded, her eyes flaring with heat and hunger. For him.
Any control he had, any thoughts of walking away disappeared with those two words. He dipped his head, forcing himself to go slow right now. He didn’t want to scare her off, didn’t want to screw this up.
Because he wanted more than just today, more than simply now. Even if it was insane to contemplate a future with Luciana, he didn’t care. He simply knew that he wanted her in his life, wanted to be part of hers.
Her tongue teased against his, hot and insistent as she pressed her naked body up against his. The woman was absolute perfection, a petite, curvy bombshell who was currently rubbing her breasts against him.
Grabbing her hips, he hoisted her up and pushed her against the wall, growling when she moaned into his mouth. Her nipples were hard little points against his chest as she arched into him.
She wrapped her legs tight around him as he kept her pinned in place. He could kiss her all morning and never tire of it. Hell, he could kiss her all damn day. Her taste was addicting.
She was addicting.
Palming one of her breasts, he savored the fullness as he rolled his thumb over her nipple. She shoved out a breath, her legs tightening a fraction as he did. Oh, she liked that.
What he wouldn’t give to simply sink into her right now, but first he wanted her worked up. He was desperate for her and wanted her to be the same for him. His cock was heavy between them, pressing against her abdomen as he dipped his head to her other breast.
Last night he’d gotten to taste her pussy, to make her come. He couldn’t believe he’d had any restraint and had actually stopped her from touching him.
“Touch me,” he demanded as he sucked her nipple into his mouth.
She raked her fingers down his back, over his chest and arms, as if she couldn’t get enough of him. The feel of her hands all over him was making something short-circuit in his brain. Her touch was light, delicate and driving him crazy.
When she reached between them and wrapped her fingers around his erection, he lifted his head to look at her.
Her back arched, as if she missed his kisses, but he kept strumming her other nipple. “I’m clean,” he rasped out, realizing they’d never had the conversation. Hell, he hadn’t thought sex was on the table. And right about now he wanted to kick his own ass for not having a condom.
“I am too. And I’m on the pill.” Her voice was raspy, unsteady.
“We’ll wait for sex. I’ll run down to the store and grab protection—”
“I want you in me now.” Again with that little demand to her tone. “I trust you.”
Hell. He believed her about being on the pill, but the fact that she trusted him about being clean? With everything between them, with everything going on in her life…it humbled him beyond belief. Part of him wanted to insist that she let him go grab something, but fuck him. He really wasn’t noble apparently.
He wanted to claim her, to mark her as his right now. The concept was beyond ridiculous. Sex was sex. Always had been. But this felt different. Because she was different.
She mattered to him.
“This is more than sex to me.” He wanted the words out there so there was no mistaking how he felt.
She leaned up and kissed him hard, pressing her body fully to his as she writhed against him. With her mouth and hands on him, it was impossible to think about anything else.
Reaching between her legs, he cupped her mound and found her soaking. For him. He groaned as he slid a finger, then two inside her. Holy hell, she was so damn wet.
She bit his bottom lip, and not gently, making him jerk in surprise. When she grinned wickedly at him, he nearly came right then.
But he wasn’t embarrassing himself, no matter how long it had been. Hell no, he was going to experience all of her.
She shifted her body against him and the tile wall even as he moved with her. Then he was inside her, thrusting, over and over as she clung to him.
He kept one hand against the wall as water beat down around them, keeping his balance as he continued thrusting into her. She was so damn tight and slick and all he wanted was to feel her coming around him.
“Oh, God,” she rasped out against his neck.
“Say my name.” He was desperate to hear it, especially now that she knew his real name. Not some bullshit made-up name.
“Leighton.” Her voice was unsteady as she moaned it out. “I’m close.”
Yeah, so was he. So damn close he could barely stand it. His balls were pulled up tight as he continued thrusting. He reached between them again and rubbed his thumb over her clit. After last night he had a good idea what kind of pressure she needed.
She jerked wildly against him, her fingers digging into his back even as she nipped at his shoulder. “Right there!”
Even as he drove into her like a man possessed, he continued teasing her. Her inner walls tightened around him harder and harder as she neared her release.
He was close too, barely holding himself back as she clung to him for dear life. When she finally found release, her climax hit hard and fast, her back arching off the wall as she cried out his name.
He watched her come, mesmerized by everything about her. Her long, dark hair hung around her in thick, wet ropes, tangled around her shoulders and breasts.
When she finally opened her bright blue eyes, he swore his heart stopped for a second. Just full-on stopped as she looked at him with the most satisfied, happy expression.
Good. He wanted to wipe away any and all sadness, even for a little bit.
She reached around and gripped his ass hard. “Your turn.”
He couldn’t help it as a short laugh escaped. God, she was demanding. And probably bossy. And he loved it. She could boss him around all she wanted as long as she was naked and wrapped around him.
He began moving again and all higher brain function stopped. It was just him and her right now in this shower. No outside world, no lies, nothing else.
It didn’t take long for him to find release, for the pleasure of her tight sheath around him to push him over the edge. He pressed her against the wall, still keeping a hand against her back so he wouldn’t hurt her as he came long and hard inside her.
He felt like he came forever, as if he lost brain cells right then and there.
“That was…” She took a deep breath as she loosened her legs around his waist.
He eased her down onto the tile, careful to hold on to her in case she was as unsteady as he was. “I hope that sentence has a good ending.”
She snorted softly and pressed her face against his chest. The water was still warm and pounding down around them, but he was pretty sure she didn’t even realize it. “Incredible. Intense. And probably a little insane,” she murmured, looking up at him with a hint of apprehension in her gaze.
He cupped her cheek. “It was perfect. And I’m not walking away from this. From us.” Let her make of that what she wanted. He wasn’t sure what the future held, of what would happen with her uncle, but he wasn’t walking away from Lucy.
He didn’t think he could.