Spectre of Intention Page 11

  He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me upright. I tugged and yanked and finally got my wrists free of the shirt. I drove my fingers into his hair, a silky glide that ended too soon. I nipped at his lower lip, wanting more, wanting to take all of him and wrap him around me, pull him inside me, absorb everything about him.

  Cool fingers traced the too hot flesh of my waist. He managed to unhook the bra. I heard more fabric tear as he drew the shirt down over my ass and let it pool around my feet. He pulled his face back, looked down at me. The golden last-light played over his features. His eyes softened and the fire and frenzy in him gentled its hold on me, gentled me. I trembled under his hands. I wanted that. I wanted that to be mine. Was that so wrong?

  “Kaitlin.”

  Was that even my name?

  He raised his hands to my face, swept his thumb over my cheekbone, leaving a cool, moist line. I lifted a startled hand to my cheek. Tears?

  Cam pulled me in, wrapped his arms around my nakedness. His cold, crisp shirt pressed against my burning breasts; the chill of his belt buckle dug into my navel; the hot, hard length of his penis pulled at my answering heat. I knew how desperately he wanted to drive himself inside me. Instead he pressed a simple, sweet kiss to my forehead.

  “Come with me.”

  He took me by the hand and led me away from the living room. I walked, a little anxious, a little lost following behind him with my bare breasts swaying, him still in full business attire. I kept my mind carefully blank as I looked up at his lean, square shoulders. No. No Kaitlin, no Ashley. Just me. Just him.

  His room was nearly the same as mine, same bed, same lamp, same mirrored closet. Only the dimensions were slightly larger. He drew me to a stop next to the bed. In front of the mirrored closet.

  “Look.”

  He turned me around to face the mirror. I hesitated, offering the slightest resistance to his gentle push. That face, that body wasn’t me. But he turned my head back and I relented. He ran his hands up, up through my hair until I straightened my posture. He stroked his hands up my neck until it was long and regal. He reshaped my shoulders, lifted my breasts as if offering myself to me, piece by piece. He worked his way down past my butt, my thighs, my calves, even my feet, as if to say, This is you, right here. This is you.

  I tottered as he lowered my last foot to the floor. He caught me around the thighs, placed a kiss on my hip. As he rose, I slid my hand down over the front of his pants, closed it around what he was denying us both. He jerked at my touch and his forehead pressed into my shoulder. I reached behind me and pulled him closer in. As his pulsing length seated itself in the cleft of my ass, he groaned.

  Impatient, I let myself fall forward over the edge of the bed and matched us the way we were supposed to be.

  “Please, now,” I whimpered.

  His intention already had me spread wide, filled utterly. When I heard the clank of his belt buckle, I moaned, arching my hips. Now, now, now!

  A new sensation, hot, smooth, heavy. We sought each other, found each other. One thrust, two thrusts. Complete. His fingers dug into my hips as he held me motionless. I grabbed handfuls of the comforter, shoved it in my face to muffle my screams. I tossed my head, felt my hair feather over my back.

  Then finally, finally, finally he began to move. I clutched at the blankets, clutched at anything. My shoulders dug into the mattress; my breasts slapped the side of the bed. I raised my head to cry out and saw him watching us in the mirror. Him, clothed and controlled; me, naked and wild.

  I didn’t care.

  He nudged me up on the bed. Then he dug his hands into my hair and rode me. My screams turned into sobs. He reached under me, first to grip my breasts, and knead and pull and flick at too-hard nipples. Then his fingers moved lower, gliding so close to where I was coming apart, so close to where I was losing myself. His fingertips burrowed in, between the folds, a single slide of callused skin against moist, tender flesh.

  “Oh, god! Oh, god!”

  My body pulled apart from inside, my mind flew open into emptiness. Cam grabbed my hips and pounded us together, so fast; my body going limp, my mind gone.

  I heard his guttural cry, felt the jerk and the heat.

  We collapsed together in the knot of icy metallic sheets.

  I’ve got the gun again. It’s like poison in my hand. My fingers, my palm grow itchy, achy. I look down and see my skin turning black. That girl, Mak’s girl sits in front of me, her blood pooling around her, soaking her clothes. She fades slowly, like some macabre Cheshire Cat, until all that is visible are those terrified eyes, that creeping pool of blood.

  “No! Please, I’ll get help. Don’t!”

  Like before, Amilee and Stephan come thundering down the stairs, the sound deafening to my ears. They strip the gun from my blackened arms. I try to run to the place where the girl should be. Amilee and Stephan pin me in place.

  I hear the front door open. I see Mak walk around the corner, stare down at those eyes, the blood.

  “You killed her.”

  “No, Stephan says she’s alright. He says it’s scratches…the wood.”

  Mak raises his pant leg, draws a knife from a sheath around his calf. He advances on me as flames ripple and shoot around him. The whole house is on fire except for the place where I stand, where Amilee and Stephan hold me fast.

  Amilee strokes my hair back from my face and presses her cheek to my head.

  “We’ll always be best friends. I’ll never leave you.”

  Mak steps closer, but I can’t get my arms free. Amilee and Stephan don’t even seem to see him at all. Him or the flames that creep forward with him.

  Stephan’s lips lower to my ear. His free hand caresses my breast, shaping, lifting the tender flesh.

  “I love you, Ashley. Do you think you’ll ever find another soulmate? Do you think you’ll ever find what we have with someone else? Love me, Ashley.” His hand slides lower, grips me, abruptly, harshly between the legs. “Ashley, you’re mine. Every part of you will always be mine.”

  “No!”

  Mak stands directly in front of me now, the wind from his flames whipping at my face, tearing at my hair, my clothes. My two friends hold me for him, presenting me to his knife. The tip reaches for the flesh of my neck.

  “Oh, god!”

  I buck, kick out with both feet. Somehow, somehow, I break free, land hard on my back on the stairs. Mak’s fire is burning my feet. I scream.

  Desperately, I twist around. The three of them grab for me as I scramble on all fours up the stairs, their nails raking into the flesh of my calves. The edges of the wooden steps crack against my shins, dig into my palms. I’ve got to move faster. I can feel the blood trickling down the backs of my legs.

  I launch myself toward the first landing.

  It isn’t there.

  There is nothing.

  Pure, perfect, frozen darkness.

  I can’t breathe. I flail against the emptiness.

  “Ssh, hey. It’s okay. Hey, breathe.”

  Somewhere, from out of the darkness, warmth reaches out for me. I clutch after it, burrow into it. I’m trembling from the cold, the pain, the fear. The warmth wraps around me, pulls me tight, holds me safe.

  The tremors loosen their hold on me, leak out of my body, down my cheeks…away.

  Peace slowly seeps in.

  Peace and a dreamless sleep.

  I blinked, surprised to find myself waking, surprised to find myself so relaxed in an actual bed. I raised my head just enough to see the clock on the wallpad.

  11:52 p.m.

  Silently, I groaned.

  An arm and a leg had my body pinned to the bed; a twist of sheets covered my lower back and ankles. I shivered in the chill. That arm moved; the big hand rubbed soothing circles over my naked back.

  “Ssh,” a sleeping voice whispered.

  A sweet ache filled my chest as I drank in that unconscious tenderness. Despite the cold, I didn’t want to move, didn’t even want to twitch if it mi
ght break this perfect moment.

  11:53 p.m.

  I had to go. Cam worked here, and he didn’t need rumors about some contractor with a torn shirt and sex hair walking out of his apartment in the wee hours of the morning. I sighed quietly.

  Carefully, I started to slide away. That arm and leg caught me, pulled me in.

  I gave a startled laugh.

  “Where you goin’?” Sleep slurred his speech, left his body warm and languid against mine. Languid and naked as the soft, sweet press of his penis against my thigh told me. Smiling, I twined my limbs with his, pressed the fullness of my breasts against his solid chest.

  “Trying to preserve your honor.”

  “Mmm.”

  He rolled over on top of me. He spread my legs with his knees, leaving me exposed to the cold air, his penis dangling tantalizingly close. The weight of him crushed the air from my chest, turning my breath into short, quick gasps. He nuzzled my neck. I could already feel my center tightening. I moaned and shifted my hips.

  As his teeth and tongue sent tiny, electric tremors through me, I ran my hands over him, exploring everything I’d missed the first time. Cam wasn’t intimidatingly muscular like Jessie and Gerard. The muscles under my hands were solid, sleek, strong. I slid my hands down to his buttocks, massaged until he groaned into my ear, then tilted him down toward me, toward my building ache. I felt him twitch against me.

  Giving his shoulder a shove, I rolled us over.

  With one hand planted in the pillow beside his head, I reached down between us and coaxed him back to wakefulness. The strength of him lifted, shoved against me. I guided him home.

  “Oh, god! You don’t mess around, do you!”

  I chuckled as he grabbed my hips, forcing me to a slower rhythm.

  For a second, I bit at my lower lip, waiting for the pain to subside.

  “You okay?” he murmured, eyes still closed.

  “Yeah, just been a while.”

  “A while?”

  “’Bout four years.”

  “Jeezus!”

  Laughing, I clamped down around him, tired of waiting, tired of letting him have all the control. He jerked. On a gut deep groan, I stretched, reached out for the headboard, shifting the angle. With an explosive breath his eyes popped open. For a second, he watched my breasts dance over him. I shuddered as his intention suckled and nipped. His head raised, but he couldn’t reach me. His hands jumped from my hips to my breasts. Clutching me hard, he raised up his hips and rammed into me, harder, faster. I was screaming again.

  He flipped me over so hard my head bounced against the mattress. He attacked my left breast, drawing it in. Using suction and the back of his tongue he rolled my nipple against the roof of his mouth. His thumb and his forefinger lifted the weight of my right breast by the nipple alone. All the while he pounded into me, sliding me forward, pinning my head back as my hair got caught underneath us.

  I opened my legs wider. He pushed them wider still. I was going to crack open. He released my breasts, drove his thumbs down and opened me up.

  “Oh, god! Cam!”

  He clasped that bud between his knuckles and matched the rhythm in opposition to his thrusts. I clawed at his arms, clawed at the bed as he levered us together, apart, together, apart. Then the drilling fire began to creep up my torso.

  I screamed.

  Arched at an impossible angle.

  “God, Kaitlin! God!”

  Exploded.

  Cam spasmed inside me, over me. Pulling my hair free, I reached for him and pulled him to me, savored every last tremor.

  When our bodies had finally settled, Cam lifted up on one elbow. With the lightest touch, his fingers trailed through my hair. I started to drift.

  “That makes the second time. I thought it was the men who were supposed to fall unconscious after sex.”

  I blinked myself back into focus.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Dmitri isn’t the only one who’s noticed how pale you’re getting. You must be exhausted.”

  I smiled, reached up to trace the bones of his cheek.

  “Just having a hard time sleeping lately. That’s all.”

  “I noticed you are a pretty restless sleeper.” His hand shifted to my face, cupped my cheek. He watched my eyes so very carefully. “Are you alright, Kaitlin? Is there anything I can do?”

  Suddenly, I felt so vulnerable, so exposed, naked there beneath him. I tried to turn my eyes away. He caught me, drew me back.

  “Don’t, Kaitlin. What is it?”

  “I just…When I was a kid, I did some…” God! The pain in my chest tried to rip through the bone of my rib cage. “I, um, made some mistakes. They just...kind of sneak up on me sometimes.” I gasped as the pain snaked up my throat, strangling me. Again, I tried to turn my head away. Again, he wouldn’t let me. I shivered in the cold, felt hot tears drain down the back of my throat.

  Cam tried to catch my gaze. I tried to let him. But I just couldn’t hold it. His hands, his intentions held me, soft and strong.

  “What kind of mistakes, Kaitlin?”

  “I can’t…”

  I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe. I scrambled out from under him, away from that penetrating kindness. After a little resistance, he let me go. I stopped at the edge of the bed, buried my face in my hands.

  “I’m sorry. This is so stupid. I’m sorry.”

  Behind me I felt the bed move. Cam draped a soft blanket around my shoulders. He perched beside me and put his arm around me.

  “Hey.”

  “Sorry. Hormones, maybe, I think. I’m a little out of practice.”

  “Four years? I’d say that’s a lot out of practice. How’d someone like you manage to go four years without sex?”

  I laughed as I scrubbed away the tears.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, caught the corner of my gaze.

  “Well, you are beautiful, funny, and in a profession way overpopulated with testosterone. So, I ask again: how’d you make it four years without sex?”

  I pulled the blanket tighter and cocked my head. “I…I guess.” This time I laughed for real. “I’m not really sure. I guess the first couple years I just didn’t want anything to do with it. And then when that started to fade, who did I have? I travel all the time. There was no way I was sleeping with Jessie or Gerard. Other than one-nighters, that didn’t leave me too many options. Even once I remembered I had a libido…” I trailed off with a shrug.

  “Oh, Kaitlin, you have libido to spare, believe me.”

  I arched my eyebrow suggestively at him. He chuckled and pulled me in tighter. I slid a hand out to his bare knee, traced the shape of the bones there. He was going to let it slide. But eventually he would get it out of me. I didn’t need an oracle moment to figure that out. What the hell was I going to do?

  Finally, I sighed.

  “I still better see to your honor. Don’t need Dmitri asking you for a play-by-play on the way to work tomorrow.”

  I felt his face spread into a grin against the top of my head.

  “Dmitri’s too much of gentleman.”

  “True, but I suspect he’s in the minority.”

  I sat up, slid the blanket away, and rose. His hands smoothed over my sides as I stood.

  “If you insist, then I will walk you back.”

  “I think I can find my way.”

  “Actually, Gerard said you’d lose your way on a straight line, if I’ve got the quote right.”

  “Can’t trust that bastard with any of my secrets. First Jessie, then Gerard. When did you three get so tight?”

  He raised a fist in mock toast. “Beer maketh best mates.”

  I shook my head with a wry grin and together we began to gather our scattered clothes.

  He kissed me goodnight at my door.

  It was soft and sweet and almost enough to have me grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him inside. Almost.

&nb
sp; My hand did reach out to brush down his chest one last time. He caught my fingers and gave my hand a squeeze.

  “Goodnight, Kaitlin.”

  I gazed up into those sweet, shock-blue eyes one last time.

  “Goodnight.”

  Then he turned to walk away and like a good girl I closed the door between us.

  “Oh, god.” I pressed a hand over my mouth, but I couldn’t suppress the giggles. “I just had grown-up sex!” Why was that so hysterically funny? I finally had my head to myself and I was using the opportunity to lose my mind!

  But I was still grinning like an idiot as I stripped away my tattered outfit and headed for the shower. The soap and hot water brought to life a cacophony of stings and aches that I’d missed over the past four years. I didn’t care. I cared that he thought I was beautiful and funny. I cared that he’d rubbed my back and whispered to me in his sleep.

  I tossed back the shower curtain and pulled on a towel. I flipped my head upside down and used a second towel to rub as much of the water out of my hair as I could. I would never get any sleep if I soaked my pillow. I probably wouldn’t get any sleep anyway, feeling like this, but—

  “You always fuck the guy who’s trying to fucking put you in jail?”

  I screamed, jerked upright.

  Stephan stepped into the room, grabbed the front of my towel, and shook me.

  “You know that’s what he’s doing, right? Are you some kind of goddamn blind moron?” His speech slurred as he shouted in my face; the fumes from the alcohol choked a cough out of me. His next shake brought the towel halfway down my breasts. “He’s got reports!”

  Even in his drunken confusion, I could feel him fingering the edges of my mind. Ashley swept in to shut me down, but she was too slow. My fury exploded.

  “Keep out of my head!” I tried to yank back at my towel. I had no leverage on the slick tile.

  Stephan tightened his grip, pulled me closer.

  “He’s got reports. That’s why our fucking insider fucking blew us off.”