Gone Too Deep (30 page)

George groaned, the sound thick with desire, and she clutched him tighter as he went still. Opening her eyes, she watched his face, saw his expression change from surprise to pleasure to absolute wonder, and she was glad they'd left on the light. The idea that she was the first woman to make him feel this way was amazing and overwhelming.

“Okay?” she asked, stroking her hands over the broad planes of his back. Although his expression was shouting that it was more than okay, the vulnerable part of her needed to hear the words.

“No.” Her heart seized at his answer, but he wasn't finished. “Not just okay. Incredible.” He kissed her, a chaste touch of his lips that contrasted with his carnal possession of her. “Perfect.”

“Oh.” The word was barely there, just an exhaled breath as he started to move. She clung to him as he began tentatively, like his first kisses, while watching her face closely. The wonderful friction, combined with his complete concentration on her reactions, made the pleasure quickly build inside her.

George moved faster, harder, focused on her the entire time. Pulling his head down, she kissed him, needing the connection of his mouth as everything—feelings for him, pleasure, desire—grew scarily huge within her. Her body and lips locked to George's, Ellie allowed herself to let go and flew over the edge, trusting him to keep her safe once again.

Within a few more strokes, he followed, his low groan blending with hers as his arms held her almost painfully tight. Ellie didn't mind the pressure, even as the rush of pleasure settled, and she tightened her own arms and legs, keeping him as close to her as she could.

As their breathing slowed, his grip eased. Turning onto his back, he removed the condom, dropping it into a small trash can next to the bed. Ellie followed him, not ready to be away from him yet, but he didn't seem to mind. He just tucked her close, and her face nuzzled into her usual spot against his neck. It was different this time, though, better. They were skin to skin, their muscles lax in the aftermath of pleasure. George's fingers traced patterns on her back, running up and down the length of her spine before leaving to play with her hair.

“So,” Ellie finally asked, not wanting to break the peaceful silence, but needing to know, once again needing the words. “How was it?”

His laugh was just a huff of air against the crown of her head. “It was…amazing.
You
're amazing.” He pressed a kiss on her hair. “I never knew anyone could feel that good.”

“Same here.” That earned her another kiss. His roaming hands moved more purposefully, and she tilted her head back to look at him. George immediately claimed her lips with his. When he left her mouth to explore her throat, she tried to catch her breath enough to ask, “Again?”

Pausing, he looked at her. “Is that okay?”

Ellie gave him a cat-in-the-cream smile. “Very okay.”

* * *

Waking with her nose buried in George's neck was wonderful yet disorienting. It was too warm, and the surface underneath her was too soft for them to be in the tent, and it took several sleepy moments before Ellie remembered the events—good and bad—of the past few days. Her eyes popped open, and she must have stiffened, since George stirred. Making a grumbly, sleepy sound, he rolled onto his back, his arms tightening around her so that she was pulled on top of him as he went.

With a giggly yelp, she held on to him as they rolled, and then lifted her head so she could see him. His expression of heavy-lidded satisfaction was a good look for him, she decided.

“Good morning.”

His wordless response was to drag her higher so he could kiss her. By the time she pulled her head back so she could breathe, she'd lost her ability to speak, so they just grinned at each other in mutual silence for a while. When George tried to tug her back for another kiss, though, a mussed hank of hair tumbled into her eyes, reminding her of something that absolutely could not wait.

“Could I use your shower?” After a fifteen-hour road trip and their energetic night, she knew she was in desperate need of some soap and water. Although George's face showed disappointment, he released her. Before she could change her mind and sink back against him, she slid off him and out of bed.

The chilly air touched her bare skin, and she grabbed for the first piece of clothing within reach—George's flannel shirt. As she buttoned the front, there was a snort from behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see George smirking at her.

“I know,” she sighed, lifting her arms and doing a twirl. “It's so big that it's not a dress on me. It's a tent.”

Shifting to the side of the bed, he reached out to grab one of her outstretched hands. “Looks good on you.” He tugged her toward him, holding her gaze. Mesmerized by the heat in his eyes, Ellie took a step closer to him, leaning down for a kiss. Before their lips could meet, she jumped away from temptation.

“No,” she said firmly. “If I kiss you, then I'm going to end up right back in bed with you.”

His expression said he heartily approved of that plan. Laughing, Ellie backed toward the door. Blowing him a kiss, she turned and headed to the bathroom. Once she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it, closing her eyes and smiling as she recalled her night with George. It took a while before she shook herself out of her happy daydream and looked around the good-sized bathroom.

It smelled nice, like cedar, and the shower was huge, tiled in an intricate pattern that looked like rolling waves. She wondered if George had done the tile work, and then she remembered that he did construction during the summer. He or his dad had probably built the whole house.

George's self-sufficiency made her feel a little useless. She wondered if he'd expect her to know how to garden and can food and sew their clothes. Crossing her arms over her stomach, she hugged herself under a sudden surge of insecurity. She wondered why he hadn't dated that strong, practical,
tall
mountain woman she'd imagined him with when they'd first met, but instead had waited for Ellie. Her hand itched to travel to her mouth, so she tightened her arms around her middle.

“Stop,” she hissed at her errant thoughts. If he
had
wanted that mountain woman who could deliver a baby and then cook dinner from scratch the same day, he'd had plenty of opportunities to find one. The search and rescue guys had made it clear that potential dates were throwing themselves at George on a regular basis.

Instead, though, he had picked her. Ellie. She couldn't sew or can vegetables or chop wood or even walk across an icy parking lot in most of her shoes, but he'd still picked her. She was his first and only, and she needed to remember that before the self-doubt ruined what had been a wonderful night.

She gave herself a firm nod in the mirror and then jumped a foot when there was a soft knock on the door.

“Yes?” Despite her inner pep talk, her voice still contained a quaver, and she scowled.

In wordless response, the door cracked open, and her toiletry bag slipped through the opening.

“Thank you.” Once she took the bag, the door eased shut. Meeting her own eyes in the mirror again, she reminded herself that she was there, at George's house, in George's bathroom, and soon to be back in George's bed. Her jittery insecurity faded, erased by a growing warmth, and her reflection gave her an excited smile.

* * *

The shower felt wonderful. After her return from her first visit to Simpson, she'd appreciated each and every experience with indoor plumbing, but hot showers were by far the best. The only thing that kept her from luxuriating in the steamy heat for an hour was the knowledge that there was only one bathroom, and George was probably waiting for his turn.

Frowning, she smoothed a hand over her still-damp locks. She'd brought a hair dryer, but she knew George wasn't connected to any power lines, and she wasn't sure how much juice his off-grid system would supply. She'd cringed at the thought of causing a cabin-wide blackout by trying to dry her hair, so she'd just toweled it off and then combed it, leaving the dry air to do the rest. It made her feel a little vulnerable, though, to have a makeup-free face and damp hair.

She turned away from the mirror, trying to dismiss her worries. George had seen her after days of not showering—stinky, makeup free, and with braided, unwashed hair. Just being
clean
was a huge improvement to how he was used to seeing her.

After her insecure dithering in the bathroom, it was a bit of a letdown to step out of the small room and not have George waiting. By the sounds coming from the kitchen, she assumed he was cooking breakfast. Feeling oddly shy again, she darted for the bedroom.

As she dressed, she debated whether to go more for warmth or style. Since she wasn't sure where their search for Baxter would take them, she compromised by wearing cute new lingerie under a couple of practical layers. Tugging down her fleece top, she headed for the kitchen. George's figure at the stove made her pause.

He was just so
big
. Sure, he was handsome and hairy, as well—both things that she liked—but it was his size that made her feel so safe, like he could handle anything that came across his path. Silently, she crossed the kitchen in her socked feet. Once she reached him, she slid her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his back, loving the contrast of the soft flannel covering the hard wall of muscle. He didn't jump, so he must have known she was there.

Peeking around his arm, which required leaning quite a ways to the side, her smile grew even larger. “Mmm…are you making us breakfast in a bag?”

His back shook a little when he chuckled. “No. Oatmeal.”

“Good.” She returned to her original position, pressing her cheek against his spine. “I love your oatmeal.” In fact, she loved everything that reminded her of George. He covered one of her hands with his, ran up the length of her forearm and then back again. “What's the plan? Any ideas where to start looking for Baxter this time?” As the words left her mouth, she shivered, reminded of her dad and the man quite possibly hunting him. It had been easier when she'd been in Chicago, and Baxter had been at Armstrong, to reassure herself that Anderson King couldn't find them. Being back in Simpson made her feel like he could be around every corner.

Turning, George wrapped his arms around her. It was hard to be scared of anything when he held her like that. “Thought we'd talk to Rob first.”

“The sheriff?” Her voice was muffled by his shirt, but she wasn't about to complain about how tightly he was holding her. There were much worse problems to have than being snuggle-squashed by George.

“Yeah. Then we can look for his trail, starting in the woods around Gray's old cabin.”

“Sounds good.”

“And you can spend more time making that store look better.”

“But—” She stiffened, starting pull away from him.

Instead of arguing, George just kissed her until she melted into him. When he finally lifted his head, she blinked up at him. “Are you going to kiss me every time I start arguing with you?” she asked when she had enough oxygen to speak again.

“Yes.” Although he looked smug, Ellie couldn't work up any annoyance. His smile was too beautiful to do anything but beam back at him.

Rob was striding toward them as they entered the main sheriff department doors.

“Good. You saved me a trip.” His voice was clipped. “George, you need to get a phone.”

“He has one,” Ellie said when it was clear that George wasn't going to say a word. “It's just not, well, out of the packaging yet. Unless you've opened it?” When she raised questioning eyebrows at him over her shoulder, he gave her a look. “Guess not. I have a phone. Did you want my number?” When George made an unhappy sound, she waved her hands. “Not like that. Rob knows we're together.” Ellie sent the sheriff an uncertain glance. “You know we're together, right?”

Rob stared at the ceiling for several seconds, possibly praying for patience. “That's…nice, but I just need a way to reach you that doesn't involve a twenty-minute drive. Anderson King was spotted in the area.”

Taking a step back, Ellie bumped into George. He put a solid arm across her upper chest and pulled her back against him. Although her heartbeat still raced, feeling George behind her helped, reminding her that she wasn't alone. “Where? Who saw him? Could they be mistaken?”

“It was one of my deputies, so I'm considering this a legitimate sighting.”

Her stomach churned, and Ellie had to swallow the bile that rose in her throat. “But why? He knows everyone's searching for him. Shouldn't he be trying to leave the country? Why is he back in Simpson? Is he still hunting my dad? Or…me?”

Rob's worried expression ramped up her fears. “I don't know what his motives are, but the fact is that he
is
here. My concern is for your safety—and Baxter's. Have you located him yet?” At Ellie's head shake, Rob frowned. “I don't want you to be alone, especially at George's place. It's too isolated.”

George pulled her closer, his arm tightening until if felt like iron. She leaned more heavily against him. “George will be with me.”

“If he's not, if he gets a search-and-rescue call or needs to leave for any reason, you call me. I'll send a deputy to stay with you until George gets back.”

She stuffed her hands into her pockets, trying to hide how hard they were shaking. “Okay.”

“What's your number?” He jotted it on a small notepad as she rattled it off. “Call if you see
anything
, understand? Even if you just have a bad feeling, call me. I'd much rather have a hundred false alarms than get there too late when it's the real thing. Got it?”

“Got it.” Pulling a hand from her pocket, she curled it around George's forearm. “I promise I'll call.”

“Good.” With a final stern nod, he said, “Be safe.”

“Thank you.” Her voice quivered a little on the words as they turned to go. With a final squeeze, George reluctantly loosened his grip, dropping his arm from her shoulders and taking her hand. They stepped through the doors, and her eyes darted around the parking lot, seeing furtive movements and shapes behind every vehicle and tree.

“We should go back to Chicago,” George said, his sudden words making her jump.

“No.” She set her chin stubbornly. “We need to look for my dad. I'm not letting a drug-dealing killer chase me away if Dad needs me. I promised I'd be there to watch his back.”

“El.” Since he was still holding her hand, George pulled Ellie to a halt when he stopped abruptly. “You need to stay safe.”

Meeting his gaze, Ellie felt a rush of determination. “I will. If I'm not with you, I'll ask Rob to send a deputy. I won't be stupid about this, but I'm not going to let Anderson King chase me away from my dad.”
Not again.

George cupped her face with both hands, worry digging deep creases between his eyebrows.

Wrapping her hands around his wrists, she assured him, “Nothing will happen to me. I promise.”

He stared at her for a long moment before heaving a sigh and pulling her into a hard hug. She returned his embrace fiercely, knowing that she hadn't convinced him she'd be safe in Simpson. Ellie hadn't even convinced herself.