West-End Boys (Naïve Mistakes) (4 page)

Kayla heard him. "Come over here, sexy baby!" she cried, spilling her drink as she held it up to the side and swung her half-shaved head around like someone going nuts in a mosh-pit. Brad joined her and they danced. They ground their pelvises together just as they had done on the night they'd first met. The night when I'd called them during their, um, 'activity.'

But Conall, Conall brooded further. Conall didn't cry out, didn't shout, didn't touch his Martini. Certainly didn't dance.

I kissed him on the ear, and squeezed his hand. "Let's go home," I whispered.

He smiled at me, stood. "Pedro, it was a pleasure meeting you." Conall extended his hand, shook Pedro's firmly. Kissed Alex once on the cheek and rubbed her arm warmly. Then he snuck me under his shoulder, and we walked back to the chalet. Briskly.

-1-

He was in outer-space when we got there, his mind so engrossed by whatever it was that Brad had told him that my own skin had begun to chill, fears of the earlier weeks starting to appear again. Like rats flushed out by sudden light, or bats swarming out of a filthy cave.

I put it aside, decided to be strong, to build on what we had and not focus on the negative.

"Wine?" I asked, and Conall said yes.

He sat on the couch, eased his legs up on the glass table, flipped on some easy jazz. Norah Jones, one of his favorites. He squeezed his temples between his thumb and forefinger. I eased down over the side of the couch toward him, kissed him once on the forehead.

"Wanna talk about it?" I asked.

He suddenly stopped, shook his head, smiled as if caught doing something wrong by a schoolteacher. "Bugger, I didn't even realize I was so far away."

"I know you didn't." I got on my knees on the floor, rested my elbows on the couch's arm-rest, put my chin on my hands. Looked at him. Waited.

Conall turned to me and smiled, put his thumb and forefinger under my chin, lifted it and eased his head down to mine.

His lips were warm chocolate, dripping over me and weakening my resolve to get this information out of him. My skin warmed, my eyes closed. "I need you to talk to me," I said, barely getting the words out.

"This
is
talking for me." He kissed my forehead. I heard his lips smack gently, felt the tickle of his tongue as it made its way around my right eye, my lashes, down to my cheekbone. Across to my ear.

"Promise me you'll talk to me after."

His rhythmic kisses skipped a beat as I'd said it, then he continued.

"Conall, promise me. Please."

He sighed, put his hand on the back of my head, pressed his forehead to mine. "I promise."

We started off slowly, on the couch.

But it was only slow in the beginning.

I took my pants off, undid his buckle, pulled down his slacks
and boxers. He was hard already. I straddled him as he sat on the couch, my underwear still on, rubbed him so I could feel his shaft pulse and scrape right on my sweet spot.

I lifted myself up, pushed my crotch against his chest, let him lift my shirt and kiss my belly button with the same warm lips that had danced on my face like ballerina's feet a moment ago. Each caress of his tongue sent shivers over my skin, sent me into a blissful daze of swimming in an ocean far too big for me, for him, for us.

His firm hands clutched my butt and he moved his nose to the top of my underwear. He inhaled loudly and it sent gushing warmth out of me. He bit the left strap of my panties, started pulling them down with his teeth, then followed with his hands, slowly, to my thighs, my knees.

He blew on my center. It made my legs quiver and I fell against him, pressing his head against the back of the couch. He slid his body lower and his tongue made its way onto my clit. He licked it once.

It burned like hot razors, fired up my skin so that my bottom lip shook. I heaved out a hot breath. My muscles screamed for him.

I felt my pelvis move, grinding into him as his gentle tongue slid in and out of his mouth, just touching, touching my clit, licking it up once, then down with the back of it. Up.

Down
.

He pushed against my ass with his hands,
pressed
my nub against his nose and lips so that my pelvis trembled, tightened. I took my shirt off, suddenly too hot. I unclasped my bra and threw it away next to me.

I held his head, ruffled his hair with my fingers as I felt the burgeoning love and adoration in me for this lovely man, this man who'd suffered so much, and who could love even more.

Deliberately, he grazed his teeth down my pubis, just barely scraping the nub, licking me once more so lustfully that my body responded by releasing the lubricant which yearned and called out loud for his manhood.

He licked again.

I looked down, saw my panties at my knees, didn't want to get up off him to take them off. "Rip them off," I said.

He did. Both hands. Quick.

I slid down onto him, closed my eyes as I felt the length of his wide shaft rest just between my slit, enwrapping him.

I rode over it once, gasped out as he pulsed against me. Then I rode down it again. I was brimming with moisture, the smell of sex making me almost high with intoxication for him.

My eyes closed, unable to open, I felt Conall's hand below, moving around. He pressed his finger once and then twice into me, pushing me up.

I lifted.

And then, before I knew it, he was inside me.

Conall thrust up into me. I held his neck and felt my own go limp, saw my hair fall about my eyes and mouth while he fucked me, up and down, his hands wrapped around my waist and his throat calling out my name and other things. Not words, sounds, sounds of pleasure and unity and togetherness. And I called out his name. Called it out and groaned it and murmured until the walls trembled in response.

He slammed into me.

My grip tensed on his shoulders. I lifted my skirt and looked down at his magnificent cock entering and exiting me, tried to hold myself up so he had space to move.

We were almost there, it was happening, not only in him but in me, faster, please, "Conall, faster, baby, faster, fast—"

I shook him, pulled him violently from the back of the seat as the waves took over me. They flowed down my head and back and spine like icy water and then climbed up me again as if they were suddenly hot erupting lava.

I clenched his cock, felt myself pulse and contract as torrents of pressurized blood rushed inside me and returned to my legs and feet and arms and chest. My toes curled. Conall was coming as well, spearing into me, pushing up so far and so high that I had to lift myself.

In the end, we gave a mutual yelp.

We kissed each other, softly, wetly, still riding slowly, settled into a gentle rocking motion. I swayed, in, out, squeezing his pleasure out of him, making him groan just a little more.

I kissed his neck, swayed still, felt the final twinges of it in myself as well.

I smiled, cupped his head in my hands. "I think we can talk now," I said.

He smiled in return.

I kissed him on the lips, then let him hold me a bit, my breasts to his cheeks, just for a bit.

-2
-

"One of my guys is dead," Conall told me.

"Your 'guys'?"

"Yeah, one of the PIs, the one who discovered Alex was still alive. He was found murdered, body floating in the Rhine river in Germany. That's where his latest lead had sent him."

I put the wine down and stared at the fire, the flames hypnotizing me as my mind drifted to the decay, the death, my own living nightmare of not too long ago.

I shook my head. "I can't believe how many people have died since I've met you."

Conall said nothing.

"You know I don't mean that weirdly, right?"

"I don't know how you mean it," he said. "But I've been around death many times. My sister. When I thought Alex was dead. Then the first PI to get taken out."

I knew he had. And I knew it had defined his life, made him cautious, over-protective of the ones he loved. I rubbed his knee.

"I thought Brad was only going to take care of security for the house. You have him onto your PIs as well now?"

"How do you know Brad is involved?"

"I saw you talking to him at the club. Even a blind man could see the worry on your face after that. I just put two and two together."

He thought a second, then his lips tugged upwards. "I'm going to have to get used to this. I mean, living with someone. Not being able to keep things to myself."

Whoa
... We hadn't really spoken about that yet—about 'living together.' Even though, technically, we were. There was so much to consider, and it had been something I'd wanted to go over with him soon—college, my job, how we'd see each other.

But not now.

"What do you mean?" I said.

"I mean that I'm so used to being alone that I forget you're with me all the time, and that maybe I should be more careful about what I show you in my expressions."

"No. Don't be more careful." My voice was soft now. "I want you to let me in. I
want
you to tell me."

Conall sat forward, rested his elbows on his knees. "You don't want to know the half of it, Leo." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes, I do."

He stood, sharp and quick. "No, you don't." His voice was stern. He moved to the balcony sliding doors.

I sat back, nerves forming in my stomach.

"Brad is a good guy," he continued. "He's street-smart. I like having him working for me. I wanted him to liaise with the PIs instead of me, keep up with what they discovered. I'd decided to put him onto that even before he arrived in England."

"You figured he was a good guy just from one mutual fight you fought with him? You guys had never even spoken."

"I never fought a fight 'with' him, technically. If you'll remember, he and his cronies held up this Raphael Scum of The Earth bugger and I told them to let him go, took care of the rest alone. But, yes, I could tell all of that from that one fight. Because he was there for your friend, nothing else. It says a lot about a man's honor and his sense of right and wrong when he puts himself at risk like that. But that wasn't all." He turned to me. "
You
trust him. And I believe in your judgment of character."

Great, now I was feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Conall, the big negotiator. "You always know what to say to win me over."

"It's the truth."

And in his eyes, I could see it was. Although I had less trust in my judgment of character than he did. But that was an internal argument I'd have with myself at a later stage.

Somehow I needed to lighten the mood. "Conall Williams, when you seduced me, little did I know that I was going to be swooped up by a drug-investigating, bad-guy-busting
bad boy
!"

The faintest wash of humor ran across his face, gone as soon as I'd seen it. He moved back to the couch, sat, put an arm around me. Moved in closer. "I never seduced you, Leora. I was seduced
by
you... Or we seduced each other. I hope you don't regret—"

"Shhh." I put my finger to his lips. "You are the darkest, most fascinating soul I've ever known. You're like Batman, you know?"

He scoffed, shrugged. "Some bloody Batman. I couldn't even protect you—"

"Hey! Enough. And you did! And I've got those Gravity Magic classes coming up with Trey for self defense anyway."

"Gravity what?"

"You know"—I waved my finger, confused—"Grav—Krav—something or other."

"Krav Maga!"

"Yes, that stuff."

He shook his head, laughed. Real humor this time. He was lightening up.

"Maybe we should stay here longer," I said. "I mean, until the cops know something more about this PI of yours that was killed."

His answer was quick and final. Indignant. "The cops don't know shit. And even if they did— Never mind." Silence lingered for a while, waiting for completion of his thought. It never came. Then, "Leo, there's no point in running. Besides, I wasn't this guy's only client. And it could've been a robbery for all we know."

"You really believe that?" I cocked an eyebrow.

He blushed, shook his head. "I've just never run away from things. It's not in my nature."

"Running sometimes is smart. Running from the bulls in Spain means you'll live. Sometimes running is what's needed."

"I always thought the guys who ran with the bulls were a bunch of blooming idiots. Why jump in with the bulls in the first place?"

I looked at him with my best
Oh yeah?
look.

"Right, I see the irony." He put one hand up to stop me from even commenting on it.

"Are you going to stop? I mean, hunting, getting data. It's become...a little obsessive, don't you think? And now that Alex is safe..." I wanted to also say,
And now that we're together. Now that we have something to really
live
for...

Conall leaned forward. I could see I hadn't stepped on any toes by saying it, that he'd probably considered it already himself, judging by the lack of surprise in his face.

He sighed frustratedly, ran a tired hand through his hair. I saw the small white scars on his knuckles, caused by all those punching bags or countless times in the ring sparring it out with Trey, fighting the demons within him, outside him, seeking inner peace in a world so set on quelling any effort toward it.

His next words were filled with sorrow and regret. They dripped off his lips like blood from a hanging corpse. "They've taken so much from me. But who are 'they' exactly? The target, the enemy, has become too general, and, yet, I still want to pinpoint it. It's almost like I'm hoping I'll find that one guy, that
one
cartel that will make it all right. The
one
organization on top of it all.