What He Explores (What He Wants, Book Twenty-One)

C
opyright
© 2016 by Hannah Ford

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C
HARLOTTE

“
I
didn’t kill
Jason Cartwright,” I said. It was an automatic reaction – if someone accused you of something you didn’t do, of course your first instinct would be to deny it.

“Charlotte,” Noah said sternly, giving me a sharp look of disapproval.

I knew what he was thinking. Detective Rake was a police officer. Anything I said to him could and would be used against me.

I clamped my mouth shut.

“Do you have a warrant?” Noah demanded. He was holding onto the door frame, the muscles of his biceps straining against the t-shirt he was wearing.

“No,” Detective Rake said. He tilted his head and rose up on his toes a bit, looking past Noah and into the apartment. His eyes darted around as if he were looking for evidence. His gaze landed on me, his eyes traveling up my body. Not in a skeezy or sexual way – it was more that he was looking for any indication I’d killed Dr. Cartwright. Blood on my clothes, perhaps, or signs of physical distress.

“Then get the fuck out of here,” Noah said. He moved his body so that he was blocking the detective’s view of the apartment.

“I don’t need to search the apartment,” Detective Rake said. “I just need a statement from Charlotte. About what she was doing this afternoon.”

I swallowed, panic rising in my chest. Because what I was doing this afternoon was getting into a fight in Dr. Cartwright’s office.
With
Dr. Cartwright. I had no alibi, no excuse as to where I’d been or what I’d been doing.

And someone had obviously seen me there, on campus, otherwise Detective Rake wouldn’t be here saying that he thought I’d been the one who committed the murder.

“Fuck you,” Noah said. “Charlotte won’t be giving you a statement about anything.”

“Shouldn’t Charlotte be making her own decisions?” Detective Rake asked gravely. His tone implied that there was something nefarious about Noah speaking for me, and I remembered how he’d looked at me the night we’d found John dead, the way he’d looked at Noah like Noah was holding me against my will or something.

“As Charlotte’s lawyer, I am not allowing her to speak with assholes.” Noah went to shut the door in Detective Rake’s face, not even bothering to turn around and ask me what I thought, if I
wanted
to give a statement.

“Fine,” the detective said, but he put his foot between the door and the frame, stopping Noah from shutting it. “But I hope she’ll reconsider. Otherwise we’ll have to bring her in.”

“Bring her in for what?” Noah spat. I took a deep breath and said a silent prayer he wouldn’t totally lose it. I knew him well enough to recognize he was about to go off, and Noah assaulting a police officer definitely was not going to help the situation. At all.

“We’ll have to arrest her,” Detective Rake said simply.

“On what grounds?”

The detective shrugged. “Come down and give a statement and I’ll be happy to go over all of that with you.” He looked past Noah again to me, and his eyes locked on mine. “Charlotte,” he said. “You don’t have to listen to him.”

Noah’s hand tightened around the door frame and he leaned back on his heels, his other hand curling into a tight fist.

“Noah,” I pleaded. “Noah, please. Don’t.”

Noah’s jaw twitched, and then he slammed the door hard on Detective Rake’s foot, pushing him back into the hallway. Noah turned the lock on the door and then stalked by me into the kitchen, where he began to pace.

Now that the immediate danger was gone, the adrenaline that had been running through my body began to lessen, replaced with dread and panic. Murder.

They thought I’d murdered someone.

Dr. Cartwright was dead.

What was it that Detective Rake had said?

Stabbed. Blood everywhere.

Obviously Dr. Cartwright hadn’t been my favorite person, but I didn’t want him dead. My hands were shaking, and my knees went weak. I took in a deep breath but it snagged in my chest, and I was unable to draw the air fully into my lungs.

I tried again, but the same thing happened and I began to feel like I was hyperventilating. My was woozy and little black spots appeared in my field of vision.

My knees buckled and I began to slide down the wall to the floor.

“Charlotte,” Noah said, rushing to my side. He put his arms around me and tried to lift me up, but my legs were like spaghetti. “It’s okay, baby,” he murmured. “You’re okay. Put your arms around my neck.” I did as he said, and Noah slipped his arm under my knees, scooping me up off the floor and bringing me to the couch, where he laid me down gently.

He pulled me to him and I laid my head against his chest as he stroked my hair. “It’s okay, baby,” he said. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

His calm tone and his strong arms around me, the feel of his body under mine, helped to begin to calm me down. Soon my breath was returning to its normal cadence, the tight feeling in my chest dissipating.

Noah pulled back, ran his finger over my bottom lip. I could see the possessiveness in his expression, could hear the anger in his tone as he began to speak. “They won’t arrest you. They have no evidence.”

I closed my eyes and let his words wash over me, wishing I could believe them. But the law student inside of me went back to the three words that were the most important when it came to criminal law.

Means.

Motive.

Opportunity.

“Means, motive, and opportunity,” I whispered, daring to say the words out loud. “They have me on two out of three.”

“No.”

“Yes. They do.” I pulled away from him and sat up on the couch. He reached for me, tried to pull me back to him, but I was suddenly wired with energy. I got up and began to pace the room.

“Charlotte,” Noah commanded. “Sit down.”

I bit back the protest on my lips, knowing that a “no” would earn me a punishment.

“I had the opportunity,” I said. “I was right there in his office Noah, probably right before it happened.” Bile rose in my throat, stinging the back of my tongue. “I was probably the last person to see him alive.”

“Charlotte.” He said my name as a warning, a warning to stop talking about these things. But not talking about them wouldn’t erase their reality.

“And I have motive, too,” I said. “They’ll figure it out. They’ll find out what Dr. Cartwright was going to tell the disciplinary board about my relationship with you, about how it was inappropriate and against the school’s code of conduct.” The panic was welling up inside of me again, my breathing passages beginning to tighten, my lungs beginning to burn.

I gripped the mantel of the fireplace and tried to calm myself down.

Noah got up from the couch and wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding me, not saying anything, just letting me know he was there.

When he was sure my legs were sturdy again, he turned me around so that I was facing him.

“I will never let anyone hurt you,” he said. “Do you understand me?”

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I completely believed him. Noah could try to keep me safe as much as he wanted. But if I was arrested for murder, there was nothing he could do about it.

“Do you doubt me?” he demanded. His hand tightened around the back of my neck, the emotions welling up inside of him threatening to crest the wall he put up to protect himself.

“No,” I whispered, but it wasn’t enough for him.

“Do you doubt me, Charlotte?” he pressed, pushing his body into mine.

“No,” I said again.

His lips crashed into mine, his tongue opening my mouth, taking me, invading me, forcing his kiss on me.

He’d trained my body well, and I instantly began to respond to his advances, my pulse racing, my panties getting wet. I could almost feel the click of handcuffs around my wrist, the lash of his belt against my skin.

I was submissive to him and would do whatever he wanted.

Normally.

But this wasn’t a normal situation.

He broke the kiss and put his hands on my shoulders roughly, and I could tell he intended to push me to my knees.

I ducked out from under him and moved back toward the couch.

“Charlotte!” Noah said sharply.

He followed me, grabbed me around the waist and pulled me back toward him until my back was firmly against his hard chest.

“Noah,” I moaned, my knees weakening, my will crumbling and surrendering to his.

He pinned my arms against my sides, then pushed me down to my knees.

This time, I acquiesced, wanting something, anything to erase the feelings I had inside of me, the terror of realizing that Jason Cartwright was dead, and that I may have been the last person to see him alive.

Noah unzipped his pants quickly, his cock hard and thick as he pushed it past my lips.

I began sucking, licking, taking his shaft in my mouth, tasting the saltiness of his precum, letting him use my mouth as I gave myself over to his will.

He held the back of my head tightly, making me take his dick all the way down my throat, punishing me for even hinting that I thought there was a chance he couldn’t keep me safe.

“Fuck,” he groaned as I blew him. “Just like that, baby, suck me off.”

I kept sucking until he picked me up and pushed me up against the window, my breasts mashing against the glass through my shirt. He tugged my pants down and entered me from behind, pushing into me in one smooth stroke.

“Arch your back into me,” he groaned, and I did.

One of his hands held my hip as the other moved to my pussy, squeezing my pussy lips around his thick shaft.

He pushed into me, over and over, pumping and thrusting, harder and harder.

There was no pretense, no softness, just pure carnal desire as he took my body and worked out his frustration.

I came fast, knowing that I was just a vessel for his enjoyment. It should have been humiliating, but I wasn’t embarrassed. I loved the feeling of being used and had come to almost crave it. My pussy convulsed on his dick as I came fast and hard, moaning and whimpering with every stroke of his cock.

A second later, he pulled out of me, still hard, and placed his hands on top of mine against the window.

I could feel his cock stroking against the outside of my pussy from behind.

“Do you doubt me?” he demanded.

“No, sir.”

He smacked my ass, then turned me around so that I was facing him. He arched my pelvis up so that my back was against the window but my hips were tilted up toward him.

He pulled at my panties, yanking them down further so he could get at me, then lifting up my shirt, tearing at my bra until my tits popped free.

“You are going to watch me come all over your pussy.” His voice was a low sexy growl and I whimpered again.

He held me tight, forcing my hips and pussy up toward him. He began to rub his dick all over my wet slit. “Beg,” he said wickedly.

“Come on me,” I pleaded.

“What do you want?”

“I want to see your cock come all over me. I want you to cover me with it.”

“Again.”

“I want you to cover me with your cum.”

He continued to hold my hip with one hand, but now his other hand was on the back of my neck, forcing me to look down at where his rock hard cock was slipping in between my pussy, parting the lips and brushing against my clit with every thrust.

“Come,” I begged as his breathing deepened.

“Who do you belong to?” he whispered.

“You.”

“Who will keep you safe?”

“You.”

I watched as his cock exploded all over me, releasing shot after shot of cum that hit my exposed clit and dripped down my slit, covering me and making me his.

When he was finished he released me slowly, making sure I was steady on my feet before turning around and zipping up his pants.

He walked to the couch and sat down, his head in his hands, his face a picture of pensiveness.

I went to our bedroom, cleaned myself up and changed my clothes.

Then I came back to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of sparkling water from a bottle of Perrier that was chilling in the refrigerator. The cool bubbles exploded on my tongue, and that, along with the mind blowing orgasm I just had, helped to calm me.

Noah moved to the bar and pulled out a bottle of red, uncorked it and grabbed two wine glasses.

“No, thank you,” I said firmly.

“Charlotte, this is not the time to try to prove to me that you can make your own decisions.” He began to fill the glasses.

I closed my eyes and summoned my strength. I knew what I was about to say was not going to go over well. “I think I should go and talk to the police.”

“What?”

“I have to, Noah. They think I did it, and they’re going to try to use the fact that I won’t talk to them to prove that they’re right.” He could say what he wanted, but he knew that was how it worked. The police would say I was being uncooperative, which would make them even more suspicious, which would in turn make them even more determined to charge me with something.

“They are not going to use anything against you,” Noah said. “Because they are not going to arrest you for anything. They don’t have any real evidence against you, Charlotte. If they did, they would have arrested you already.”

“But if I just talk to them, if I just tell them that –”

“Enough,
Charlotte.” Noah’s voice was cold and hard as steel. “You will not talk to the police, and that is the end of this discussion.”

“It’s not the end of it,” I said. “You can’t stop me from doing what I want.”

“I can and I will.” He picked up one of the glasses of wine, then walked across the kitchen and handed it to me. I took it and swirled the dark liquid around the wine glass.

“Drink,” he commanded.

“No.” I shook my head and set it down on the counter. “I can’t show up at the police station drunk.”

“God dammit, Charlotte,” he raged. He took the glass from me and threw it hard into the sink, where it shattered into a million pieces. If Noah noticed, he didn’t react. “Stop being naïve.”