KATIE

 

His lips brush against mine and though I'm the one who initiated this to begin with, now it all feels wrong. It feels strange. But it's too late to go back. And when our lips crush together, it just about takes my breath away and forces all of the chaotic thoughts from my mind.

One of my hands trail to hold him by his back as one of his hands rise to tangle in my hair. And I pull him deeper into the kiss and even more than before, everything fades away until all that's left is our touch against each other. For the moment, it feels just right. It’s like a little slice of heaven in this dangerous world.

It's unexpected, even to me. From the time I first saw him, I have never seen him as anything other than a strong man capable of helping me find my brother. And I agreed to help him find his sister only because I needed him to help me find my sibling.

But there's just something about him, something about the way he carries himself. Something about the way he’s so strong in the face of never-ending adversity. There's something about our familiar stories that seems to tangle us together.

I've never been the one to open up to anyone, and though I haven’t quite opened up to him fully, I can see myself doing so. For my entire life, I've been called a man-eater by so many people, but people never really knew me because if they did, they would know that I don't eat any man. I don't date men. I don't have sex with them. I like to keep my distance and be alone because that's the safest option in this world.

But he makes me feel so damn safe and I don't know why. I don't know why it is that I've never needed a man to make me feel safe. I've always done that on my own, even when I've seen the worst of mankind. I've never been afraid.

It was on the long car ride down to San Diego from Los Angeles, as we were passing under a particular series of streetlights on the highway, I hadn't noticed it because I've been so caught up in the mission at hand. I hadn’t noticed the way he’s so vulnerable. I hadn't noticed the way he’s a real man, fully dimensional with quirks and flaws and emotions too.

In my line of work, it is so easy to see people at first glance and make a first impression and then keep that first impression. I did my research before I approached him. I dug deep into his past and his present, I found out all the little details he likes to keep away from the rest of the world. Without even meeting him, I knew about his associations with Seth Grimm, and I knew about his Ford Security team that likes to keep themselves under the radar.

I learned so much about him, but what I never could've foreseen is the little boy that is still behind that manly body and those deep, burning hazel eyes.

From above me, he shifts his weight forward until my back is against the bed. His body is even stronger than I could have predicted, pinning me deep against the mattress. He lifts his head, breaks away from the kiss. Our eyes tangle with each other, as my eyes search from side to side trying to find a reason not to do this. Both Tosha and Alice had put me on notice that they understood I was only using Dominic. They warned me to not let him get caught up as collateral damage and I couldn't listen to them. But now, as I look up to him I can't help but to imagine they were right. I can't help but to believe that by pulling him into this, I’ve put him in indescribable danger and that's something that weighs heavy on my heart and soul.

But at the end of the day, he had to make his own decisions. And even if he never really had a choice, he was always going to follow me down the rabbit hole in order to save his sister, he’s still here because of me. On the flip side of that coin, though, he faces a very real possibility of getting his sister back tomorrow night because I came to his door. I went into his house without permission. I forced him to face down his demons and his past.

His hand caresses me softly against my right cheek and I lean into his touch. I shift my head against his hand and revel in the way his muscular hand feels over my flesh.

I'm shaking and I'm scared, I don't know where this road is going to go. I don't even know if we're both going to survive this ordeal, but it's worth it if we face the very real possibility of putting our families back together. And because our stories are so intertwined with each other, I feel as if he will remain a figure in my life. I can't discern what role he could possibly play right now, all I know is that I want to know more about him. I want to know more about him than who he is and who he's been, or where he's from. I want to know more about him than what he does for a living. I want to know every little bit about him. And it's because of this sudden realization that my head is spinning. And when he begins to kiss me again, when his tongue slips past my lips and into my mouth, it all just shuts up.

That's why I'm doing this. I imagine it's the exact same reason why he's doing this too. I can't remember a day since Victor was taken away from me that I haven't spent every waking minute thinking about him. Even when I'm working. Even when I'm sleeping. Even on a bright and sunny day when I'm having fun, he's always been in the back of my head. It never went away. It'll never go away until I find him alive.

I know Dominic has lived that same hell for the last year and that's why this is happening. We just want our heads to shut the hell up. We just want the voices to stop telling us that we're never good enough. We just want this to be over and we are so close to the finish line, so close that the voices are louder than ever before.

He drops a hand to my side and it sneaks up underneath my shirt. His flesh against my flesh sends shivers down my spine. His hands are warm, calloused and rough. He grips tighter as he shifts his body against me. And when his mouth drops to my neck, I let out an embarrassing moan. He pays me no attention though as he continues to run his lips over the most sensitive part of my neck, plants a trail of kisses up the side of my neck and then finally nibbles at my ear.

It's an absolute struggle. I want to pull away from his touch and lean into his touch both at the same time. Physics say that's impossible. I hook a hand around his back and hold onto him firmly, my fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as he continues to drive me towards the edge.

He breaks away from me, lifts his head up high enough so that he's looking at me again. His eyes are absolutely burning now with hunger and desire. Deep, dark brown eyes that threaten to pull me inside out.

"Why…?" I stumble over my own line of questioning, clear my throat before I try again. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because," his voice is dry and raspy, "I'm just trying to forget the world."

Though his answer is a little too on the nose, it reaffirms my suspicions that I was right. It reaffirms my ability to read anyone and anything at the appropriate time. I think that it’s part of the reason I've gotten so far in this life. It's the ability to know someone inside and out without ever really truly knowing. I make hypothesis about everyone I meet, and nine out of ten times I'm right. It has nothing to do with science and everything to do with an innate ability to know and understand the world around me.

He continues to stare down at me, his dark eyes boring into me. His breathing is heavy and parched, and he wants to speak but he doesn't. It's easier, I suppose, to say nothing at all.

Right now, I'm all for the easier solution.

But when he stares at me just a little while longer, I begin to think that he's losing his nerves. I begin to think that the gears of his mind are turning and he no longer wants this. But I need this because without it, I'm not going to be able to sleep even with the help of sleeping pills. I just need the world to shut up.

I push both hands against his chest and push hard enough so that he moves to the side. And without much effort and in a quick haste, I pivot my legs over his body so that I'm straddling him once more. A girl like me is used to being in control, and if I have to be in control, then so be it. I hunch over him and grab his hands, holding them above his head as I drop my lips to kiss him once more. It's more passionate and rough than it was before. He tastes like musk, tastes dangerous. And he's very dangerous. The most dangerous man I've ever known, but unfortunately he's also one of the better men I've ever known.

I kiss him hard and deep while I rock my body over his hips. Our jeans scratch against each other, burning hot with friction and desire. When it's all too much, when I need something more, I throw my head back and massage my hands into the fabric of his shirt. And then I drop my hands to the hem of my tank top and rip it over my head in one fell swoop.

This particular move steals all of his attention and he watches me intently as I reach around my back to undo my bra. He takes a deep long breath as I slide my bra down my shoulders and then my arms, and then my chest is bare above him.

He swallows a nervous gulp.

And because of my ability to read people, I measure that he hasn't been with a woman in quite some time. That's one miscalculation I've seemed to have made. On the outside, he looks like a womanizing type. I've known a few people like him before, whose lives and pasts are littered with tragedy. That type of men are most often the womanizer type, like they're trying to do anything to forget.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"The same reason you're looking at me the way you're looking at me."

That's a fair answer so I just shrug before dropping my hands to the bottom of his shirt and then working to undress him as fast as I can. When I get the shirt scrunched up just below his chin, he leans up and helps me assist pulling it off the top of his head. He disposes of it on the floor and then reaches up, puts a hand on both my cheeks and kisses me once more.

He's no longer a passive man in this affair. He drops a hand to hold me firmly by my ass and begins to rock me over him. I throw myself back, back into a sitting position where my hand grabs onto the hard muscles of his chest. I get lost in how strong he is, his body forged of absolute steel. A man doesn’t get built like this by just going to the gym. He gets a body like this through hard work and dedication in a harrowing line of work. It's not a choice of vanity for him. He's not strong because it looks absolutely sexy, he's strong because he has to be strong.

And when I get lost in his eyes, he takes me by surprise. He scoops me up by my ass and flips me back onto my back so that my hair scatters along the pillow. And when he climbs on top of me, I know it's just about showtime.

He's hungrier and more passionate than he was before. He's kissing me on my lips and then kissing me on my neck. He's kissing me everywhere, trailing his mouth down a path from my chin to my breasts. He kisses me anywhere and everywhere and all at once, I lose track. He runs a circle with his tongue around my breast and then he’s back at my lips in record time. And while he's devouring my mouth with his, I feel one strong hand reach to undo the buttons of my jeans. And he pushes his strong hand inside and begins to caress me, sending shockwaves through my entire body. My toes curl against my shoes. So, I make quick work of kicking off my shoes. And by the time I do, he's back on his knees, grabbing my jeans and ripping them down the entire length of my body. He disrobes me of my panties immediately after.

I look up to him with a light chuckle.

"What's so funny?" he questions me, his eyes searching to either side.

"It's just not fair…" I bite into my lip seductively. "I'm completely bare beneath you and you’re not quite as naked above me."

"We can fix that." He shuffles to his knees, kicks off his shoes to the side of the bed. He unbuckles his belt, pops the buttons of his jeans and then rips the zipper down before he's climbing out of his jeans like some kind of super fast superhero. As soon as he's free from his jeans, he pushes his hands against his black underwear and climbs out of them too.

And if I thought he was some kind of steel machine before, I had no idea. He's so damn gorgeous, so damn sexy. So damn strong. Muscles outline every square inch of his body. And I do mean every square inch. He drops back down to lie on top of me, nudging my legs to the side so that he can fit in between. His impossibly hard erection runs against my opening. The friction is hot and it’s almost too much. I need for him to be inside me before I start thinking about other things, things I don't want to think about.

He runs a hand through my hair, combing strands away from my face. Even in the midst of a sexual encounter, he still proves that he has the ability to be a perfect gentleman. My mama always taught me that men like him didn't exist. Men who were strong and selfless, men who were absolute gentlemen in an increasingly harsh world.

He raises his head and we’re staring at each other again. It's not uncomfortable in the slightest. Not uncomfortable, not one bit. His breathing is harsh and ragged, the hot air slipping past his lips ignites my insides to a burning degree. And when he drops his head just slightly, drops it enough so that his breath ignites the wetness he's left behind with his mouth on my neck, I grind out, "Please…"

And by the way he looks at me, I don't think I need to elaborate. I think he knows exactly what I'm trying to say to him. He plants a fist on either side of my head and lifts his body up above mine. He swivels his hips just slightly, just enough so that he's positioned perfectly between my legs.

"Are you sure?" he has the nerve to ask from above me, his lips trembling and his muscular arms shaking. "Do you want to do this?"

I try to force the words from my throat but they don't come out. All that escapes my lips is ragged breathing so I just nod at him to let him know that it's okay.

That's all he needs. He drops one hand to assist guiding his way into me. And when he presses against me, I force my eyes closed and exhale as I work to accommodate his girth. He sinks into me painfully slow, inch by inch until he's filled to the hilt. That's when I open my eyes and look up to him to see him shaking even more than he ever was before. It's taking every little bit of strength in his body to hold himself still above me when all he wants to do is let the animal inside loose.

That's what I want too. I dropped both hands to grab at his hard and taut muscular ass. And when I've got his skin burrowed underneath my hands, I pull him even deeper into me, if that's even possible.

A guttural moan ekes out from between flat lips. He reaffirms his grip on the bed on either side of my head before he starts pulling out painfully slow. He arches his back and pulls out just enough so that he’s barely inside of me. With my hands still affixed to his ass, I force him back inside me. He's not ready for my maneuver, that much I can tell when he slams all the way back into me and his arms give out on either side of him. His hard, steel body crushes against mine, forcing a burst of hot air from my mouth. He's tired, he's been tired all of his life but especially ever since I disclosed to him that his sister was still alive. He hasn't been sleeping. Maybe he doesn't have the strength for this. I move to tell him that it's okay, that we don’t have to do this. But just before I can say those words, he begins to thrust in and out of me. He locks an arm behind my head as he rocks into me over and over again.

With every thrust inside of me, his hair becomes a little more damp from sweat. And I can feel underneath the flesh of my skin, his skin becoming slick with sweat.

It's like an inferno as he continues to drive into me over and over again with measured and calculated thrusts. He's working a specific rhythm that threatens to send me over the edge in record time. My hand that's on his back moves up to the back of his head as I hold him into place. I catch a glance of the ceiling fan above me, continually spinning in slow circles. It doesn't spin fast enough for the inferno beneath it, doesn’t spin fast enough to cool us down.

From inside, I can feel myself driving towards climax. I can feel myself driving towards the point of no return. It's that point that's going to help me sleep tonight.

He grunts out, moans against my neck; his breath so hot against my skin. My own body becomes slick with sweat too. The weight of his body makes it so that I can barely move. That's probably a good thing, though, because as I feel my toes curling against the sheets at the bottom of the bed, I realize if I had free reign I would be squirming all over this bed.

I manage to crane my head up just enough so that I can see the mirror over the dresser. I can see the scene playing out like a movie. I can see every muscle in his taut ass and his steel back. I can see every time he thrusts into me and I can feel his breath and his heart racing against me.

While still holding me in place, with his arm hooked behind my head, he raises his own head so that he watches me intently. With anyone else in this world, it’d be an uncomfortable sight. It's like when they say that you don't kiss someone with your eyes open. But I could literally just watch all night as he continues to thrust into me.

His eyes wage a war with mine, a war of attrition the neither of us are willing to lose. His thrusts become more erratic and less rhythmic. He drives into me hard and deep and then he drives into me with shallow thrusts. Over and over again, he tears me inside out with an immeasurable beat.

I can see it written all over his face, can see that he's about to break. I try to force my eyes closed, knowing full well that I'll lose the war. I can't have him watching me watch him when I finally break around him.

I try to throw my head back but he's holding me in place. His breathing becomes harsher with every thrust. From behind my head, I can feel his hand shaking. When I open my eyes again, his entire body is shaking. And I get a funny feeling that he's holding back.

"What are you waiting for?"

He chews into his bottom lip, his voice ragged and low. "I'm waiting for you."

The pressure that he's waiting for me becomes too much.

I realize that with that pressure I'm not going to reach orgasm and all of my energy and enthusiasm seems to fade away in an instant. It's not that what he's doing is no longer pleasurable but rather it's that I'm not close enough to break and by the way he’s shaking above me, he's about to shatter.

His lips part like he’s about to speak, but he doesn't stop trusting. It's all too much for him and he finally releases himself inside of me. He thrusts all the way in, as deep as possible, drives himself to the hilt. And as his mouth drops open and he lets out an audible gasp, he empties himself inside of me and I find myself clinging onto his back for dear life. Sweats drips from his short hair and onto my face. And then he collapses fully on top of me, the weight of his body crushing me deep against the mattress.

And as he comes down from his impossible high, I find myself staring up at the ceiling fan once more. I wish it would turn in circles faster and faster. I wish there was enough air in this room to breathe, but in the aftermath of what we've just done, this place has turned into an absolute inferno as hot as the fiery pits of hell.

His heart is beating so fast that I can almost feel it by grazing my hand down his bare muscular back. He finally manages to collect himself and rolls off of me. He kicks his feet off the edge of the bed as he rises to sit and stares blankly ahead at the vanity. I rise to my knees and moved to sit at his back. I dropped a hand over his shoulder and caressed his strong chest as he works to come down from the high. He's breathing heavy and ragged, and his chest is heaving too. I drop my head over his shoulder and the two of us just sit there in absolute silence.

"Do you want a pill?" He rises to stand, walking towards the dresser bare naked as he drops over to dig through the duffel bag on the floor. He produces a prescription bottle of sleeping pills and turns to me as he untwists the cap. "You're going to need a good night’s sleep."

Feeling slightly uncomfortable and slightly used—even though I was the one who initiated the act—I reach for the covers and pull them over my bare breasts. "Sure."

He grabs two pills out of the bottle and throws one into his throat. He reaches out to me to hand me the other, which I take gracefully and push into my mouth. I swallow it dry as he sits the pill bottle back down onto the dresser and then makes his way into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. When I'm alone, here in this hotel room all by myself, I can't help but to think somehow I did something wrong. Maybe Tosha on some level was right that I was using a wounded and vulnerable man for my own purposes. I let out a heavy sigh that he can probably hear even behind the closed door of the bathroom and throw myself back in the bed so that I'm in a lying position. And once more, I'm staring at that damn ceiling fan as it spins in impossibly slow circles. There's just something about that damn fan that I can't stop looking at. Something about that damn fan that I can't stop thinking about it. Maybe it's because it’s always moving, always spinning in circles and it never stops. It's like the inside of my head.

My eyes fall over each other and I know it can’t be the sleeping pill taking hold already. Those pills take at least a little while to kick into effect so it must be that I'm just tired. I don't try to fight the sleep as it happens.