Captive, Mine (27 page)

He turned back at me, his gaze flat and cold. “What do you want?”

“I want a lot of things, but I’ll settle for one from you: stop your search for Lake. Forget about him, forget he exists.”

His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side, studying me, leaving my confidence of a few moments ago on the verge of evaporating. “My business with Lake Freeman is between him and me. You worry about your own pretty little self. I have nothing with you. I didn’t even see you here today, in fact.”

“Not enough. Leave Lake alone. Stop searching for him, and you’ll get to stay out of jail. Unless you miss your buddy Randall, that is.”

His grin unnerved me. This meeting needed to be over, and fast.

“You found him, didn’t you?”

I tried to keep my expression neutral, but my reaction to his comment was physical.

“Do we have an agreement?” I asked. “Or should I”—I reached into my purse and pulled out a duplicate envelope, this one stamped and ready to be mailed—”drop this at the post office a few doors down?”

His expression hardened. “You wouldn’t.”

“Why wouldn’t I? What have I got to lose?”

He studied me, but this time, I was able to keep my calm. I had the upper hand, and we both knew it.

“That’s fine, Ms. Cross,” he said, dumping the rest of his coffee onto the street, some of the cooling liquid splashing onto his shoes. He then crushed the paper cup before tossing it too. “As far as you and Freeman are concerned, we have no more business together.”

I smiled while he tucked the envelope into his pocket, all the while my heart racing.

“You shouldn’t litter,” I said, gesturing toward the cup on the street.

He looked pissed, and I couldn’t say I didn’t like it.

“Good-bye, Ms. Cross.”

“Good-bye, DeSalvo.”

By the time I’d said it, he was too far away to hear.

Chapter 20

H
e grew very still at the sound of the lock tumblers moving.

Sitting in her living room, cloaked in shadow, he’d waited, every second wondering why the fuck he’d done this — and knowing there was nothing else he could’ve done. Not anymore.

She stepped in, snapping on the foyer light, warm illumination showing the softness of her hair, her face every bit as beautiful as the one he’d seen every night in his dreams. Unwrapping the burgundy scarf from her long, slim neck, she turned to close the door and threw the deadbolt.

“Hello, Lily.”

She froze, her back to him, the thin leather strap of her purse a diagonal line down one shoulder of the form-fitting black coat. Her hand eased down to her purse. She was careful to keep it in front of her, but he knew what she was doing. It made him smile.

Lily spun on him, the pistol trained toward the sound of his voice, though she’d have shot over his shoulder if she’d fired.

“Get your hands up and show yourself.” Her voice was firm but tense. She was scared, but that steel he so admired was still there. Good.

“You need to aim that about eight inches to your left.”

The black barrel instantly moved to him.

“That’s better.”

Her brow furrowed, her eyes going wide.

“Is it…?” The pistol wavered, but the barrel didn’t drop.

That’s my girl.

“Your house was ridiculously easy to break into. You need a nosy
voisin
watching out for this place.”

The barrel of the gun steadied instantly, pointed directly at him. Her eyes narrowed. “Show yourself, or I start shooting. I’m bound to hit something.”

He flicked on the light next to the chair, the little chain on the switch rattling against the metal base of the lamp.

“You’re still holding it like I taught you.”

Lily’s face went pale, and this time the barrel of the gun did drop. “
Lake?
”

He stood, but she raised the gun again.

“I… you shouldn’t be here. You said—”

“I said you needed to forget. But no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many days went by,
I
couldn’t forget.” He took a step closer, but she backed away.

She was thinner than he remembered her, her hair shorter, faint lines of worry around her mouth that hadn’t been there before. She was so small. Somehow that fact registered now more than it ever had — and his need to protect her had never been stronger. Even if she hated him — and how could she not — he still needed to protect her.

“You… you left me, Lake. Why?”

He took another step. “You
know
why. It’ll never end for me.”

“So why come back?” Her lower lip trembled ever so slightly.

“Because you never left.” He stepped closer still, but she held her ground. “Every night, alone in the dark, I remembered. Every night I cursed not having you in my arms, I remembered. The worst thing I’ve ever done turned out to be the only thing that matters to me anymore.”

“You can’t just fucking… come back.”

For a moment, like the passing of a cloud across the face of the sun, he saw the weight of it, the pain, the loss… and the longing. But was it a longing for what was… or what she hoped would be?

“Yes, I can come back.” Lake stood before her, looking down upon the petite beauty who had every reason to hate him, and who’d become the one thing he needed most. “I came back to give you one more choice, Lily girl.”

She flinched at the words, but her cheeks colored. God, how he’d missed that blush.

“You don’t give me anything anymore, Lake. This is…”

“Tell me to go then. Tell me to leave and never come back to you.” He grabbed the hand that held the pistol, wrapping his fingers around hers, raising the gun up again until it pointed at his chest. “Say the words, Lily girl.”

Those words were on those sweet, red lips, the lips he could still feel upon his flesh, the lips that spoke her words of devotion, of surrender.

And of love.

But she didn’t speak them.

Huge tears welled in those eyes that had haunted him every day they’d been apart.

“I can’t…”

“Say it, Lily. Either you say it — or you’re mine. For good. Say it, or we find out how deep this goes. Say it — or I’m never letting you go.”

Her lips were a deep red O, and he couldn’t help but hold her delicate chin in his hand, stroke those lips with his thumb until, with a sudden intake of breath, she set her forehead to his chest, a deep, hollow sound coming from inside hers.

He slowly lowered her weapon. Popping the magazine from the pistol, he took both from her hand, dropping them to the wood floor, the sound jarring in the small, quiet house. When she quieted, he lifted her face to his, and she pressed a weak fist to his chest, leaning into him as her eyes shut and she wept silently. Lake watched her, watched her release, a profound gratitude flooding through him.

This was right.

For the first time since before the death of his wife, he felt… right.

It didn’t matter what forces had brought them together, the lusts, the rage, the twisted desires that drove them both. No, what mattered was this moment. This woman. Forever.

Mine.

She pushed herself away from him, her gaze locked with his, and he knew. They both did. She belonged to him. She was, always...

His.

Without another word, he snaked a hand up to the back of her neck, fingers curling around the base of her skull, his other hand closing over her still-fisted one, holding it to his chest while his mouth closed over hers, pushing her backward until her body pressed against the wall. When her free hand came to his waist, he took it, raising it up over her head, crushing it too, to the wall, his palm flat against hers, fingers intertwining as his kiss deepened, the hunger of too many months without her manifesting in the rough reclaiming of her mouth.

* * *

P
assion erupted like nothing else. Lake kissed me hard, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted harder. I needed it. I needed everything.

Tearing his mouth from mine, he looked down at me, his breath coming hard, his eyes molten on mine. Gripping my coat, he tore the buttons from it pushing it from me, dropping it to the floor. I reached for his shirt with the same intensity, my fingers clumsy as they worked the buttons while he simply ripped my blouse in half, his mouth once again closing over mine. His hand found one breast and gripped it hard, squeezing it while I pushed his shirt open, my mouth moving to his neck, the scruff along his jaw scratching my face while I sucked on the curve of his shoulder. He turned me, walking me backwards, catching me as I tripped while he stripped off his shirt and led me to the bedroom, pushing me onto the bed, the light of the full moon illuminating us in an almost eerie silvery light.

Opening the buttons of my jeans, he pushed them, along with my panties, down my thighs. I watched him in that light when he did. It was as if he couldn’t stop looking at me, even as his gaze had to shift to the work of stripping me. I watched him, my hands reaching for the buckle of his belt, the touch of leather reminding me of the leather he’d used to punish me, the leather I somehow missed. He kissed me again, lifting me higher onto the bed once I was naked, standing for a moment to strip off his pants, his eyes never leaving mine until he could climb on top of me again, his knees nudging mine wider, his cock finding the slick entrance of my ready sex. My breathing came as ragged as his when he gripped my wrists and spread my arms wide, our eyes locking when he thrust deep inside me, causing me to cry out, my body not ready to take him but wanting him all the same, stretching for him. My fingernails dug crevices into my palms as he thrust again and again, harder each time, each stroke punishing, taking, reclaiming, owning.

Finally, he brought his mouth back to mine, our lips opening, not quite kissing, our breath hot, until we both came, the orgasm strange, the sound that came from his chest stranger as he pumped his seed into me, sweat dripping from his forehead onto mine.

Only when he collapsed on top of me did he still, allowing me to cradle him in my arms, some part of me still, even now, even with his cock still inside me, his weight crushing me, his breath hot on my face, in my ear, still not believing that he was here, that he’d come back. That after everything, he’d come back.

I held him for an eternity, neither of us speaking for a long time. Finally, he lifted his head and looked down at me. He slid his cock out of me, my thighs suddenly slick with the gush of his cum on them. Setting his elbows above my shoulders and supporting his weight on his forearms, he kissed me again, that passion somewhat abated, this kiss more tender, slower, more exploratory. And when he pulled back, I saw something in his eyes I’d never seen before. It was a tenderness, but more than that. A strange sort of peace, as if he were, finally, satiated.

“Lake,” I said, touching his face, pushing sweat-covered hair from his forehead.

His fingers touched my face in turn, as if he, too, did not believe.

“If you leave again…now…you’ll break a piece of me.” They were the truest words I’d ever spoken and, in a way, up until now, I’d managed. I’d kept going somehow, but I hadn’t been whole, not after the cabin. I hadn’t been living. I’d been surviving, that was all.

He touched my face with the tenderest of touches. “I won’t break you. Ever. I promise, Lily.”

I studied him, my eyes scanning his, and I believed him. And not only that, but I knew in a way that the same was true for him. For the first time since I’d known him, I knew Lake was as fragile, as vulnerable as me. I knew I’d break him as surely as he’d break me. We were the same in this one thing. I believed his promise and I made my own. I had made that long ago though even if I only realized it now.

I smiled when he ran a finger down the bridge of my nose, his touch feather light. “I’ve missed you, missed everything. I love you, Lily.”

I didn’t know until hearing them how much those words meant to me. Those words coming from him.

“I love you,” I repeated back to him.

He kissed me then, softly, tenderly.

“Make love to me, Lake. Make love to me.”

What we’d done now, it wasn’t lovemaking. It was fucking; it was hard and it was necessary, the only way for us to come back to each other. Softness didn’t suit us, not really, but right now, I needed exactly that. I needed him to make slow love to me, tender love. I needed kisses and caresses and tomorrow I’d take the leather. But not now.

Now, I needed Lake to simply love me.

Epilogue

“L
ake, my shoulders.”

His response was to bring his finger to his lips, telling me without words to be quiet.

That was part of the deal, a part of this exercise.

He checked his watch then leaned back against the wall to watch me, arms folded across his chest, his silence unnerving.