Closer Than You Think (41 page)

His lips curved, but there remained a remoteness to his expression that she wanted to erase. ‘I need to wear a fedora if we’re going to speak noir. Nobody says “pack heat” anymore.’

She brushed her lips over his knuckles. ‘Lily’s a classic film fan. She says it. Does it, too.’

White brows shot up in surprise. ‘She packs heat?’

‘Since Dad’s stroke. She hasn’t felt comfortable in the house with him being less mobile. Not since Combs got out.’

‘I thought you didn’t tell them about Combs stalking you.’

‘I didn’t, but I did tell her he was out of prison. I tried to scare her in generalities, to keep her on her guard. I was successful enough that she bought a gun even though my father despises them. But she doesn’t know about Gordon’s murder or any of the attempts to . . . you know.’

‘Kill you,’ he supplied coldly.

‘Yeah. That.’ She sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t seem to be able to lighten things up for you.’ She tried to let go of his hand, but he held on, threading their fingers together. This time he brought her hand to his lips and, as she stared, transfixed, kissed her fingers one at a time.

‘That you even tried is more than I’ve ever had before,’ he said.

Her heart broke at the thought of no one trying to lighten the load that this man carried on his shoulders. ‘What happened at the school, Deacon?’

‘Which one?’

It took her a minute to remember that he’d been planning to stop at King’s College before meeting with his brother’s principal. ‘I meant Greg’s school, but I’ll take news on either.’

‘It looks like Corinne was the original target. Arianna may have been trying to save her.’

He needs to tell me about this case, but he doesn’t want to.
A wave of fresh dread washed over her. ‘Have they found more bodies, Deacon?’

Grief darkened his eyes, making her think about that picture of him surrounded by graves. ‘Yes. Seven more.’

She gripped his hand, holding on. ‘You’ve found ten bodies in the basement?’

‘So far. There could be more. We’re going to have to dig up your property.’

Just like on his old case. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’

His brow furrowed slightly. ‘You didn’t put them there, Faith.’

‘I know, but I’m sorry you had to find them.’

His jaw cocked. ‘What do you mean?’

She hesitated. ‘One of the articles about the shooting at my hotel linked your name with the case in West Virginia last year. You had to deal with a lot of graves.’

‘You saw the picture.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I really hate the guy that took that picture.’

‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘I hated the guy that took my picture, too, the one that made all the news reports of Combs’s trial. It was taken as I was leaving the hospital after Combs slit my throat. I looked haggard and terrified. Each time I saw the photo, it was like Combs was hurting me all over again.’

‘You looked terrified with good reason. But not haggard.’

Faith’s cheeks heated. ‘You saw the photo?’ She drew a breath when he nodded cautiously. ‘But it
is
the same, Deacon. That people saw me like that embarrassed me. I looked awful. And I looked afraid. But that
you
saw me like that . . . I hate that you’ll always have that picture of me in your mind, because once it’s there, it never goes away. It was the same with the photographer who took that picture of you. He caught you in a moment of grief that should have been private. I hate that you experienced that, but knowing that you were moved by the victims’ suffering . . . I felt like I’d glimpsed the real you. I felt privileged.’

He was too silent for too long a moment and Faith thought she’d gone a few sentences too far, but then he spoke, his voice husky. Deep. Velvet on her skin. ‘I got your email.’

I’ll be waiting
. She dropped her gaze to her feet, suddenly shy. ‘I’d just seen the picture. I wanted to comfort you. Like you comforted me. You looked so alone.’

‘Faith, look at me,’ he whispered. Summoning her guts, she met his eyes. And slowly exhaled. He was looking at her like she was a lifeboat floating in the sea. ‘I was alone that day,’ he admitted, his tone so soft she had to strain to hear him. ‘I’ve been alone for years. But this morning . . .’ He swallowed. ‘No one’s ever waited for me.’

She touched his face, tracing the line of his lips. They were soft until he kissed her. Then they were as hard as the rest of him. ‘How can that be? How can someone like you be alone?’

‘I think the same thing about you. I also think that if you don’t want me to kiss you again, you need to tell me now. Because it was all I could think of when I was on my way home.’

She leaned up on her toes, brushing a kiss over his lips. ‘Like that?’

‘Not even close,’ he ground out, then his mouth was on hers, hard and hot and more wonderful than it had been any of the other times. His hands dug into her hair, holding so tight it almost hurt. He tilted her head to one side, then the other, kissing her like he was starved. She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back, aware of him. Everywhere.

He was already erect, the thick ridge in his pants too much temptation. She rocked up on her toes to press against him, needing to feel him against her, wishing she had the courage to grab handfuls of his shirt and yank him down on the bed.

But if she did that, he might think . . . what? That she wanted him too? Because she did. Too much.
This is crazy, Faith. Totally crazy
.

‘This is insane,’ she whispered against his lips.

‘I know.’ His mouth took hers again as walked her backward. Three steps later, the back of her legs hit something solid and then he was lowering her to the soft mattress. He followed her down, settling his hips between her legs. He dragged his hand down her body, his thumb caressing the side of her breast before continuing down, toying with the hem of her blouse.

She held her breath, her body going rigid as she waited for him to touch her skin. He hesitated too, then brushed his thumb up under her blouse, fanning her ribcage. He lifted his head and she murmured a protest against the loss of his warm mouth.

Until she saw the way he was looking down at her, so hungry. But waiting. For permission.

‘Yes. Please.’ The words came out of her mouth on a rush of air, her heart hammering in her chest. He pushed her blouse up an inch at a time, kissing his way as he went, licking each rib as he bared it. Again she held her breath, waiting until he’d pushed the silk past her bra.

‘Mmm,’ he breathed. ‘So pretty.’ He licked the swell of each breast, plumped up by the bra. ‘I knew they would be. I peeked last night.’

Her eyes flew open at the admission. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You leaned over. I couldn’t resist. I wanted to do this then.’ He fumbled with the front clasp, managing to pop it open on the third try. His mouth curved sinfully, making her shiver. ‘I wanted to do this too.’ He leaned down, drew her nipple into his mouth and sucked. Hard.

She gasped, her hips lurching against him. ‘Do that again. Please.’

He blew against the wet nipple, making her twist against him as he sucked the other one. He lifted his head, staring at her breasts. ‘God, what you do to me.’

‘What?’ She arched her back, tugging his head back down, urging his mouth back to her breast. ‘What do I do to you?’

‘Make me lose my mind. I want you so much that I can’t think.’ He cupped one breast in the palm of his hand, testing its weight, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Making her lose her mind too. Her hips bucked and she rubbed against the hardness of his chest, wishing it was his erection instead.

She wanted him too. Wanted him inside her. Wanted to know what sex felt like with a man who desired her this much.

‘All the way home, I was thinking of this,’ he whispered. ‘Of kissing you. Sucking on your breasts.’ His voice deepened. ‘Tasting you again.’

Her body clenched and she arched against him, into him, invitation and plea. ‘Yes.’

His breath caught as he met her eyes. Searching them for truth. He rolled off her, far enough to push the jeans from her hips and down her legs.

‘Pretty.’ He bent lower, rubbed his chin into the lace of her panties. ‘Are you wet, Faith?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered, making barely a sound. ‘You make me want you.’

His eyes blazed and her hips rocked toward him. And then he stunned her by stripping the panties down her legs and . . . She held her breath for a storm but got a simple little lick that nearly sent her into orbit. He lapped at her sweetly. ‘You taste so good. I knew you would.’

‘More. Please.’

His control faltered and he tongued her hard. Tugged on her with his teeth. Licked her long and deep until she couldn’t think. She didn’t want to. He added a finger, sliding it up into her while his mouth did the most amazing things. He pulled her clit into his mouth and sucked until she came on a silent rush. Still he lapped, like a cat. Like a giant cat.
My tiger.

When her shudders stilled, he licked up her torso, sucking one breast and then the other before laying his head on the pillow beside her. His eyes seemed brighter. Seemed to shimmer, the line between blue and brown like a Fourth of July sparkler.

Against her thigh she felt the throb of his erection and she rolled into him, her hand seeking, those eyes of his blazing again as she fondled him, learning his length.

‘I want you.’ He closed his eyes. ‘God, I want you.’

She swallowed, turned on by the wetness on his lips. ‘I want to feel you.’ She pulled down his zipper, humming her appreciation when he filled her hand. ‘Too many layers of clothes, Deacon,’ she whispered.

‘If I take them off,’ he whispered back, ‘I’ll come inside you.’

She licked his lips, tasted herself. ‘Take them off. Please.’

He didn’t wait for another invitation. Rolling to his feet, he stripped off his clothes and crawled to her, a big, beautiful animal.
Who wants me
. She reached for him, stroking him.

‘Do you have a condom? Because I don’t.’

‘I do.’ He found one in his drawer and quickly sheathed himself, disappointing her a little.

‘I wanted to do that. Next time, let me. Now, just . . . hurry, Deacon.’ She closed her eyes and waited. He pressed into her, rocking, pushing into her a scant inch at a time.

‘You’re tight. I don’t want to hurt you.’ He was panting. ‘Are you sure, Faith?’

She looked up at his handsome face, her muscles tensed. Waiting. ‘I’m sure. Come—’ She gasped when he slammed into her, sending an orgasm rippling through her.

He groaned. ‘You feel so damn good. I want to go slow.’

‘Don’t want slow. I need fast.’ She arched off the bed when he complied, plunging hard, over and over, his face a picture of concentration. Her nails digging into his back, she dissolved again, her deep moan swallowed by his mouth. Unbelievably, he picked up the pace, each thrust going deeper, and then he took her mouth in a kiss as he came, shudders racking his body.

He dropped his face into the curve of her shoulder, his body trembling through the aftershocks. ‘Oh God,’ he breathed. ‘I needed that. I needed you.’

‘I needed you too.’ She ran her hands through his hair, scraping her nails over his scalp. Another shudder shook him. And then he stilled. Opened his eyes and stared down at her.

Faith thought she could look into his eyes for hours, watching the colors swirl together. ‘What makes them like this?’

His body froze, suddenly heavy against hers. ‘Makes what like what?’

Oh no
. He couldn’t go all remote when she was lying in his bed, her bare breasts pressed to his chest, his body buried deep inside hers. ‘I’ve never seen eyes like yours, not in my whole life.’

‘Genetic mutation,’ he said shortly. ‘Goes with the hair.’

She’d triggered something ugly with her question. She traced the seam of his frowning lips with her fingertip. ‘The white tiger is a mutation, but what makes him different also makes him the most beautiful animal in the jungle.’

His frown didn’t disappear, but it eased. ‘To some.’

‘To me. And who else is here?’

‘Just you,’ he murmured. ‘Only you. How did this happen?’

‘I don’t know. I keep thinking this is crazy. That I’ve never felt this much, this fast.’

‘It’s the same for me.’ He shuddered again when she lazily raked her nails across his scalp. ‘I needed this. Needed you. I can go back out there now. Thank you.’

He rolled off her and disappeared into the bathroom. Suddenly awkward, she sat on the edge of the bed and was fastening her bra when he reappeared in the doorway, tall, broad-shouldered and beautifully nude. Bronze skin . . . all over. When he crossed the room toward her, she was transfixed by the roll and ripple of his muscles, her heart fluttering all over again.

Cheeks heating, she adjusted her blouse, aware that he was watching every move she made.

‘Are you sorry we did this?’ he asked.

‘No. Not at all. But . . . I don’t fall into bed with men I’ve known not even a day. I don’t want you to think that I do.’

‘Are you worried that I’d think less of you?’

‘Of course. But I worry more that this is just my way of avoiding what’s happening right now – the house, Combs, the bodies piling up everywhere I look. What if I’m using you as an escape? I don’t want to hurt—’

He kissed her. ‘Hush. For now, let’s just enjoy the fact that we’re not alone. We’ll figure this out as we go. Stay here. I need to check in with the agents downstairs. I’ll be right back.’

He pulled on his pants and shrugged into his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. He slipped out the door, closing it behind him. A few minutes later he was back, cell phone in one hand and his gun in the other. ‘I left them in Dani’s room,’ he said. ‘I actually came home to grab a shower and a few hours’ sleep, but I needed to check my messages first.’

‘Any new victims?’ Faith asked.

‘No, thank goodness.’ He put the phone and gun on his nightstand next to her purse. Then he quickly stripped her of her bra and shirt, shucked his own clothes and tugged her back to bed, wrapping his arms around her. ‘Sleep with me, Faith.’