Running Away With You (Running #3) (50 page)

“I missed you so much,” he moans against my mouth.  “So fucking much.”

Feelings I’ve long suppressed came crashing over me like waves on the ocean.  The feelings of want, of need, and of belonging wash over me, one after another in rapid succession.  I’m caught in a riptide of emotions so intense, I feel as if they might pull me under.

“I thought I’d lost you,” I whimper against his neck, sliding my tongue up to his ear.  Evan is all I crave, all I desire, and the only thing I fear is that I won’t be able to get enough of him.

I place my hands under his shirt, pushing it aside so I can begin exploring.  Slowly, I rake my fingernails across his chest and back.  He tenses beneath my touch and I can feel his muscles stretch and flex as he holds me in place.

He throws his head back and releases a soft moan as my hands travel across flesh, urging me on, stoking the flame.  A deep yearning blazes through me as I feverishly struggle to unbuckle his belt. 

Evan rips open my blouse, sending buttons flying across the room.  The rush of cold air shocks my senses.  I can feel my breasts hardening into firm peaks, pressing against the lace of my bra.  I feel his hand on me, tugging on the cup, freeing my full and heavy breast. He applies the perfect amount of pressure as he rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, creating the most intense feelings of pain and pleasure.

All I can think about is how badly I need to complete that physical connection to him.  I tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and work my way up, getting the exact response I was hoping for.  Evan places his hands under my bottom and lifts me higher so I have better access to him.  My bare breast is pressed against his and my skin tingles, ignited by the heat of our flesh.  He closes his eyes and releases a slow, deep sigh, and I am enraptured. 

I grind my hips against him as he thrusts against me.  The thin fabric of my panties is soaked with desire.  The fabric of his pants is stretched, barely containing the fullness of his erection.

In the frenzy that follows, clothes go flying in every direction, leaving us breathless and desperate for the other.  “I need to feel you inside me right now, Evan, please,” I beg.

I don’t have to ask twice.  In one swift motion, he raises me higher, and then pulls me down onto him.  The feeling of fullness and of completeness overwhelms me, and I thrust my head back against the wall.  I throw my arms around his neck and arch my back as he plunges inside me again, filling me to the hilt.

I tighten my legs around his waist as he continues to slam into me.  Our chests rise and fall together with every shallow breath we take.  He turns to look at me, locking his bright blue eyes with mine before he claims my mouth again.  My tongue joins his in a slow, erotic dance that’s all about touch and sensation.  He pulls back, and then moves into me again, slowly this time. I close my eyes and groan, relishing the feel of him inside me. 

“You’re never leaving again,” he murmurs against my throat. 

“Never,” I pant, surrendering myself to his relentless rhythm, savoring each push and pull, his ragged breathing, his need for me.  

I feel powerful, strong, desired, and loved – loved by this amazing man, whom I love with all my heart. He pushes harder and faster, his breathing ragged, losing himself in me as I lose myself in him.

“Oh, baby,” Evan moans, his teeth grazing my jaw, and I come hard around him. He stills, clutches me, and follows suit, whispering my name. 

As ripples of pleasure continue to flow through my body, Evan scoops me up and carries me curled against his chest to our room down the hall, where I haven’t slept in nearly two weeks. My head drops against his chest. I am mentally and physically exhausted. I don’t remember ever being this tired. Pulling back the duvet, he lays me down, climbs in beside me, and holds me close. “Sleep now,” he whispers and kisses my hair. “You’re home.”

Moment of Truth

W
hen I wake before the alarm the following morning, Evan is wrapped around me like ivy, his head on my chest, his arm around my waist, and his leg between mine. Gently, I stroke the few hairs on his firm chest. He stirs and his sleepy eyes meet mine. He blinks a couple of times as he wakes. 

“Hi,” he murmurs, and smiles.

“Hi.” I love waking to that smile.

He nuzzles my neck and hums appreciatively deep in his throat. His hand travels under the cotton sheets and skims along the curve of my hip.

“I would love to stay and play,” he mutters. “But as tempting as you are,” he glances at the alarm, “I have to get up.” He stretches out, untangles himself from me, and rises.

I lie back, put my hands behind my head, and enjoy the show. Evan stands at the foot of the bed, stark naked.  He is perfect. I wouldn’t change a hair on his head.

“Admiring the view, Miss Fletcher?” Evan arches a sarcastic brow at me.

“It’s a mighty fine view, Mr. McGuire.” 

After a quick hot breakfast of oatmeal and fresh fruit, Evan’s off to the stadium for practice.  Derek and I are opening together in a few hours, so I’ll wait until a respectable hour to call him and ask for a ride. 

It doesn’t take me long to move my things from the spare room back into the closet and dresser.  Everything is exactly as I left it.  I occasionally peek out the window to check on Derek’s house, looking for signs of life.  By eight o’clock, it remains dark and quiet.

I take Maddy outside for her morning constitutional and find the weather to be quite mild for January, so I decide to take advantage and head out for a beach run.  I check the tide reports, and right about now it’s low tide, so the sand near the surf should be hard and firm.

On a day like today, not many layers are necessary, so I dress quickly and get Maddy’s leash.  The moment she spots me with a leash in hand, she hurries to the door and sits excitedly, tail wagging furiously, waiting for me to take her out.

The beach is peppered with occasional fisherman, eager, like me, to spend some welcome time outdoors on an unseasonably warm winter morning.  I recognize a few and greet each with an enthusiastic, “Good morning.”  There are no other runners on the beach today, so I get to enjoy the relative peace and solitude.

Running affords me an opportunity to be alone with my thoughts or to unplug entirely.  The choice is mine.  I have had to make so many decisions lately, I feel as if my mind has been in overdrive, most likely because it has been.  Revisiting every decision I’ve made and analyzing every move I make forging ahead has exhausted me more than any amount of physical activity ever could.

Today I will unplug.

I select a playlist I know by heart that lasts about thirty minutes and contains exactly eight songs.  I plug in my earbuds, strap on my iPod, and head out.  I have an eclectic mix of all kinds of music, with selections from some of my favs – a reggae hit from the Canadian band Magic, a platinum single from Norwegian duo Nico & Vinz, and a little county music from Lady Antebellum.

My mind is clear and easy as I enjoy my beach run.  As I jog along a bed of crushed seashells, the tide ebbs and flows carelessly while the light wind carries a mist through the air.  The sand beneath my feet glitters brightly in the early morning sunlight.

Gone are the brilliant specks of umbrellas that dot the seashore during the summertime. Gone are the sand castles and buckets and children playing happily along the shore.  This wintertime beach is mine and mine alone.

But also mine is Rush Dessert Bar and Restaurant, and duty calls.  It’s time to return home, shower, and call my neighbor for a ride.

I enter the house through the sliding glass door and immediately I’m startled by an incessant banging on the front door.  Keeping Maddy at my side, I walk through the house to the door and peek out the window.  There’s a police cruiser in my driveway.  “Point Pleasant Police,” they bark through the door.

Panic takes over and I can feel my pulse racing.  This can’t be good.  My first instinct is to call Evan, but more importantly, I have to call Gavin.  The police continue to pound on the door and call me by name.  My hands are shaking, but somehow I manage to find Gavin’s number.  “Hello, Juliette.  I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today.”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to have the police banging on my front door.  What do I do?” I ask nervously.

“Answer the door.  If they want to come in to speak with you, don’t invite them.  If they ask you to come down to the station, tell them to call me.  If they tell you that you’re under arrest, cooperate.  If I don’t hear back from you in exactly five minutes, I’ll meet you at the station.  Do you understand?”

“Under arrest?” I ask.  The words frighten me beyond explanation.

“Hang up and go see what they want.  I’ll be there if you need me.  Remember, you tell them nothing.  You say nothing.  You agree to nothing.  Got it?”

“Um, okay.”  I hang up and walk to the door, full of trepidation. 

The knocking and pounding hasn’t stopped, so I have no choice but to open the door.  My
friend
Detective Harper is standing there with a scowl on his face.  “Miss Fletcher, I’m sorry to have to inform you of this, but you’re under arrest.  I’m going to have to ask you to come with me, please.”

I can feel all the blood drain from my face.  I didn’t even notice Detective Guardino standing to the side, smirking.  It’s he who approaches with a pair of handcuffs in his hand.  “I need you to turn around, ma’am, and place your hands behind your back, please.”

“Tom, seriously?  I don’t think that’s necessary,” Harper tells his partner.  Then he turns to me. “You’re going to cooperate, right?”

All I can do is numbly nod.

“See, she’s cooperating,” Harper points out.  Detective Guardino puts the handcuffs back into his pocket, but he’s still smirking.  He’s made his point.

“Can I get my purse?” I squeak.

“Yes, you’ll need to bring your ID down to the station.  Make sure you have it with you,” Harper responds.  I turn to retrieve my things, and as I shut the door, Harper grabs it and takes a step inside the threshold.  “I’ll just wait right here, if you don’t mind.”

Maddy must sense their less than honorable intentions, and she remains watchful and vigilant, ready to pounce in an instant.  I try to calm her and remove her leash, but she doesn’t take her eyes away from the unwelcome intruder.  She’s a good guard dog.

I know Gavin told me not to worry or panic, but I can’t help it. I’m absolutely terrified.  My house keys jingle in my shaky hand as I struggle to get them into my purse. 

I warily walk back to the front door and follow the detectives to their car.  Just as I’m about to be placed in the back of the cruiser, Derek comes out to see what’s going on.  “Jette?  What’s happening?” he shouts from his driveway.

“Derek, I’m being arrested.  Call Evan.  Now!” I holler as the door shuts, closing me away from the safety and security of my home and friend.  I just returned home, and now I’m being taken away from it again.  Who knows for how long this time.

It’s a short drive to the police station and I know I’m not supposed to answer any of their questions, but Gavin didn’t say anything about asking a few questions myself.  “Um, excuse me, detective, can you tell me what this is all about?”

“We’ll fill you in on all the details when we get there,” Guardino curtly replies. 

We pull in to the front of the police station, and parked right in the front of the building is an all-white police cruiser with a gold badge on the door that reads, “Indianapolis Police”.  Thoughts swirl around in my head.  Are they here to transport me back to Indiana?

I’m escorted from the car into the building.  The detectives greet the dispatcher at the window and she buzzes us through the door into the back.

No one tells me anything.  I’m ushered from room to room.  In the first room, my ID is taken, the contents of my purse are searched, itemized, and I’m asked to sign an inventory.  Just as I think I’m about to get it back, the officer places it in a locked closet at the back of the room.

My next stop is to get fingerprinted.  It’s surreal.  I’m transported back in time to when I was a Girl Scout, standing in this very spot, taking a tour of the police station and learning how the police take fingerprints.  This experience is very different from that of my childhood.

After I clean off my hands, they deliver me to be photographed.  I can’t help but wonder how long it will be before my mug shot is leaked to the press and becomes the breaking story on Celebrity News Network.

I’m then taken into a small room with a table and a few chairs.  The officer leaves the room and I find myself sitting there alone in silence.  No one comes to check on me and no one offers any explanation as to why I’ve been brought here.  I have no idea how long I sit there.  There is no clock on the wall, and my watch was removed when I arrived.  It might have been five minutes, but then again it might have been twenty.

Finally the door opens and in walks my attorney, Gavin Wolff.  There’s something about him that makes people immediately sit up a little straighter when he walks into the room.  Based on the way he’s dressed, I’d say he came to play hardball today.  He’s wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, a white dress shirt, and a smart blue tie.  His gray hair is receding at the temples, and is long enough in the back that it sweeps the collar of his suit.  But what really completes his take-charge look is the low-rimmed glasses sitting on the tip of his nose, tethered by a cord dangling from the arm.