Ashes - Book 2 (New Adult Romantic Suspense) (5 page)

I feel vulnerable, over exposed, a little frightened at not knowing what’s happening behind me. I’m breathing hard, but realize I’m also curious and pretty turned on.

He secures both my wrists in one of his large hands and trails a finger down my spine. It continues between my ass cheeks and then lower before dipping into me.

“Mmm … so wet,” he says, his deep voice grumbling from his chest.

I hate to admit it, but this position isn’t close to as sexy as it looks in the movies. The side of my face and my breasts are flattened on the granite and the edge of it is digging into my ribs. My hands are behind my back so I can’t even ease the pressure.

I peek over my shoulder and see Gage trying to figure out how to make this work. I’m so short and he’s so tall. We don’t fit this way. When he spreads his legs wide apart and does a deep knee bend to get low enough to enter me, I snicker.

He lets go of my wrists and slaps my ass. “What’s so funny?” he asks as I continue to giggle. He lifts my hips and my feet come off the floor, but we’re finally aligned.

By the time he’s inside me, I’m laughing full out. I’ve managed to get my freed arms underneath me so my boobs aren’t so splattered and the granite isn’t crushing my bones.

He’s laughing and thrusting, pulling my hips back to meet him each time he surges forward. Now I’m sliding back and forth on the countertop and my boobs make little squeaking sounds. I reach out and try to grab onto something to keep from ramming my head into the wall, but only come back with a salt shaker.

I look over my shoulder and meet his eyes, ready to call this whole thing off. But he has tears running down his face, he’s laughing so hard.

“Oh baby, yeah baby, give it to me good,” I yell, giving him my best porn girl voice.

He swats my ass. “Take that wench.”

We burst out laughing again and I honestly don’t know how he’s managed to keep an erection. I’m just hanging on, giggling like a fool, everything from the waist down growing numb.

“So glad it’s as good for you as it is for me,” he yells, laughing just before he suddenly just stops moving and backs away, letting me down.

Apparently, his dick doesn’t have a sense of humor.

This big man is bent over, his cock flaccid, a rubber barely hanging on the tip. He looks up at me and I hand him a dish towel to dry his eyes.

“Well, that was fun,” I say, deadpanning. “Why haven’t I tried that before?”

He covers his face with the towel and howls. The condom finally drops to the floor.

We laugh through our breakfast of cold scrambled eggs. Laugh as we get dressed. And laugh when we get into my Jeep to drive him to his truck.

“I’m going to have to buy you a stool and try that again,” he says, still wiping at his eyes. “My pride insists.”

“And just think, you’re going to be all blue-balled today.” I reach over and pat him between the legs. “Poor baby.”

He glances over at me, then back at the road, a big smile still on his face. He glances at me again. “You know, I had fun. Other than having to rescue a hurt kid, finding dead bodies, having a nightmare from hell and our ultimate kitchen sex fail … I really had a good time.”

I flash back to holding him while he cried and a wave of tenderness runs through me. “Yeah. Me too.”

“We make a good team.” He reaches over and grabs my hand.

I lace my fingers through his. “Yes. We certainly do.”

He smiles. “You gonna tell Stephanie about our kitchen adventure?”

I lift an eyebrow and give him my best smirk. “Of course.”

His mouth twists and he nods. “Yep, gotta buy a stool.”

Chapter 7 — Gage

Pulling into Beth’s driveway, I pull her Jeep to the back of the house where my trusty truck is waiting.

Trusty is an exaggeration. I curse when I turn the key and the fucking thing won’t start … again.

“Good morning.” Ken steps out of the house, a coffee mug in hand. “Don’t tell me. The POS is dead?”

I snarl at him, but have to agree. It is a piece of shit.

“Don’t nag. I’m going truck shopping this week.”

The back door opens again and a sleepy looking Stephanie steps out, her cat in her arms. She’s nearly run down by the most hyper lab on the planet who comes flying out the door after her.

“Onyx!” Beth spreads her arms and the dog comes running to her as if she hadn’t seen her in forever. Beth bends down and gives her a big hug and a good petting. She looks adorable in my oversized t-shirt and the shorts she pulled back on from yesterday.

Her feet are bare, still raw from all the blisters from her hiking boots. I glance down at them and wince. Damn. They have to hurt.

Ken punches me in the arm and I glare at him. “What?” I bring my attention back to him when I realize he’s caught me staring.

“You can ride with me,” Ken says again.

“Great. Thanks. Wait.” I raise an eyebrow. “I thought you were off today.”

“Not anymore. Jack’s got the shits and I’m pulling a twelve to help cover.”

I grimaced. “Him too. Heard it was going around.” My stomach rumbles about that time, likely in sympathy to Jack.

He gives me a look. “You okay?”

I don’t have to ask what he means. He’s not talking about my digestive system. Beth texted Stephanie last night to let her know she was staying with me and to give her a heads up as to what had happened. We didn’t expect our names to be in the news, since we escaped the park before any news hounds sniffed their way to the story, but you never know … our names and faces could be flashed on the early news this morning if someone has a leaky mouth.

I look from Beth to Steph and back to Ken. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He gives me a ‘right, we’ll talk later’ lift of the chin, just as Stephanie curls herself up to his side.

“Be safe today,” Stephanie says and wraps her free arm around him. I smile when he grabs the cat and hands the puffy white thing to Beth. Then he kisses his fiancé like it could be the last time he ever sees her.

Something close to a shiver crawls up my spine. In our line of work, it very well could be the last.

Today’s a Sunday and it could go one of two ways. It could be super quiet and I do busy work or we could end up racing from one hungover tourist crash to another or doing a ton of band-aid calls for minor tourist injuries.

Of course, there’s always the risk that tragedy could strike. We lost Travis in a building collapse just a couple months ago. It could have been Ken or me — any one of us — who’d gone in first. Instead, it was us who’d recovered the body of our friend.

Damn.

I can’t be thinking this way. Can’t go borrowing trouble by worrying about shit I can’t control. I look at Beth and realize she’s looking at me. Our eyes meet, but we don’t step toward each other. That weird, awkward, cold distance is like a concrete wall between us again.

I overhear the lovebirds whispering their goodbyes and I love yous, both touched and disgusted at the same time. I still can’t believe my best bud is this pussy whipped. The dude who had a string of women at his beck and call. He gave all that up … showgirls, models … for Stephanie. Then I look at the way she looks at him and can kinda, sorta, almost understand why.

I look over at Beth and — holy shit — she’s looking at me like that too. Her eyes are soft and there’s the tiniest hint of a smile on her face as she strokes the white cat on its head.

Fuck.

I pretend I don’t notice and turn away, stowing my bag in Ken’s truck. I’m not giving up
my
showgirls and models. No way in hell.

“We better go,” I tell Ken, needing to get the fuck out of here. Shit. I messed things up with Beth by crying, having the nightmare, being vulnerable. Hell, being too available.

Fuck Buddy Rule #7 — Spread out the meetings. It’s meant to be an occasional thing so emotions don’t have a chance to take root.

Of course, Beth and I have already broken Fuck Buddy Rules #1, #3 and #8 — we’ve spent the night together; gone on an actual date; and communicated in ways other than texting.

And shit … she just gave me the
When To End A Fuck Buddy Relationship
look. THE look. The ‘I’m falling for you’ look.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

I’ve got to reel this back in, or cut the line altogether, even though I feel a little stab at the thought. I don’t want this … a relationship. Relationships screw up everything. They tie you down. They are too much work.

There’s so much I want to do with my life; my bucket list is really long. I can’t do that with a nag nipping at my heels.

I’ve got to stop this.

Now.

Ken is going to kill me.

“What the hell was that?” Ken asks as I pull out of his driveway.

“Huh?” I really have absolutely no clue.

“That head nod to Beth when we left. The frown. The ‘hurry up, let’s go’ shit.”

“Just didn’t want to be late, that’s all.”

“Right,” he scoffed. “Like when have you once cared about punctuality?”

He’s got me there.

“Just got a little creeped out is all,” I confess and stare out at the passing traffic.

“Creeped out by what?”

I lift a shoulder, trying to put it in words. “I don’t know. Everything. Last night. This morning. The future. The past. Just all kinds of shit, man. Don’t worry, I’ll be alright.”

Ken’s fingers stop tapping the steering wheel and he relaxes a little bit into his seat. “Sorry, didn’t mean to jump your shit. I can’t even begin to imagine what last night was like.”

The memory of the smell slaps the hell out of my medulla oblongata and I have to fight the urge to gag.

“Yeah. It was bad. So damn unexpected. And the way those women were displayed was so … careful. Ritualistic. The only good thing about it is that now, hopefully, many of their families can find some sort of closure and they can be buried properly near people who loved them.”

“And maybe they’ll find the bastard who did it.”

I think about the complexity of how those women were placed in that cave. “Bastards,” I correct him. “I think it has to be bastards, plural. I can’t see how one guy could do all that on his own. Not impossible, but…” I trail off.

“What should have been impossible was them being found. I mean, what are the odds that a kid would fall from a cliff on the same day a fireman trained in rescue would be right there with climbing gear in his bag? I’m betting you beat lottery odds on that one.”

I snort. “Lucky me.”

Ken glances over at me before taking the last turn to the station. “No, lucky them. That kid was … shit.”

I glance up. “What?”

“News crews at the station. Two. No three of them.”

Sinking in my seat, I say, “Terrific. Can you go around back? I need to know what our official statement is going to be before I face them.”

Ken grins. “Just like you, pretty boy, thinking this is all about you.”

Then he grows serious and I know he’s remembering the way he was accosted by the news and other types of crazy tabloid magazine type people after everything had gone down with Stephanie last year.

They’ve been offered big money to tell their story and Stephanie is still considering going on Sixty Minutes or maybe Barbara Walters. She thinks it would be good PR for the HEAL center and also be a platform for her drive to create new legislation that would enable victims of revenge porn to have their photos and videos uploaded by people like ex-boyfriends removed from online sites.

Ken flips on his signal and does a u-turn. A few minutes later, we’re in the back of the station. I heave a huge sigh of relief, grateful that there wasn’t a microphone in sight.