He stopped next to his bed, set his gun on his
nightstand. Then he slid his hands into her short hair and took her mouth the
way he’d wanted to from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, letting her
feel what he’d kept pent up for one very long year. With a low, satisfied hum
she leaned up into him, grabbing his wrists for balance, then her hands slid
down his arms, under his suit coat, flattening against his back. With kissing
she was comfortable. He prayed she’d be comfortable with what came next.
“These are the rules of this game,” he said against
her lips. “You say ‘stop’ or ‘wait’ at any time and I will. But if you say
nothing, I keep going. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said breathlessly, her fingers digging
into his back. “Just hurry.”
But he wouldn’t hurry. He’d given them the nudge they
needed, but had no intention of flying so fast that they missed the trip. He
spent time on her mouth, kissing her long and deep and lush until the hands
that gripped his back slid up his chest and around his neck. He ran his mouth
over the cheek she could feel and down the scar she couldn’t.
He ran his lips down her neck, over and past the
leather choker he’d never seen her without, until he got to the collar of her
sweater. She’d pushed his suit coat off his shoulders and to the floor and was
tugging his shirt from his trousers and it was all he could do not to throw her
on the bed and plunge deep.
But he didn’t hurry, didn’t rush. Didn’t push her.
Didn’t need to. She was struggling with the buttons of his shirt and he pulled
back to give her room.
She looked up, her eyes dark, intense. “My hands are
clumsy.”
“I don’t mind.” When she’d finished, he shrugged out
of the shirt.
For a moment she simply looked at him and he felt
oddly… humbled. “I always wondered what went on under your suits,” she said
softly. “I never thought I’d find out.”
“I’m glad you were wrong.”
She smiled at that, shyly, but her hands were clenched
together. She was nervous again, but she hadn’t told him to stop, so he started
anew. He kissed her until she kissed him back and her hands unclenched,
flattening on his chest, and he shuddered.
He’d missed this. Needed this. He dropped his head to
her shoulder. “Don’t stop.”
“I won’t.” And she didn’t, fanning her palms back and
forth, exploring.
He lifted his head and watched her face as she touched
him. She’d needed this, too. “I like the summer,” he said abruptly and she
looked up, surprise in her eyes.
“Why?”
“Because you have this shirt that you wear to the
bar.” He trailed his fingers up under her sweater, along her stomach, and felt
her muscles clench and quiver. “It’s cut high. When you twist a certain way, I
could see part of your tattoo. What is it?”
She swallowed hard. “Why don’t you find out for
yourself?”
“I could do that.” He pulled her sweater over her
head, revealing a plain, serviceable bra that shouldn’t have made his mouth
water, but it did. Gently he pushed her to the bed and followed her down,
running his fingers over the skin he’d bared.
He pressed his lips between her breasts then forced
himself to lift his head. “This drove me crazy all summer.” Vines crept up from
the waist of her jeans, curling this way and that. Some bore tiny flowers. In
some places the vines were thicker than others.
She was holding her breath. He ran his fingertip over
one of the thicker vines, felt the hardened, raised skin beneath. And
understood. They were the scars from the eight times she’d been stabbed. She’d
turned something horrific into something beautiful.
He waited to meet her eyes, waited until he’d shoved
all the sorrow and rage back deep, where she couldn’t see. Waited until the
only thing left was pride. And desire. “This is one hell of a tattoo,” he said,
his voice between husky and hoarse.
She breathed then, her tension ebbing. “It keeps
going. You know. Down.”
Noah’s mouth curved even as his fingers itched to rip
the jeans from her body and see just how far down the vines dipped. “I can see
that.”
She exhaled through her teeth. “Hurry, Noah.”
But he wouldn’t let himself be hurried. He kissed the
skin above her bra, then below it until her shoulders lifted from the bed,
seeking more. Finally she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his
mouth to her breast and he gave in, sucking hard through the cotton, groaning
when she pushed the fabric away.
She twisted higher, humming her pleasure when he took
her other breast in his mouth. “More,” she whispered. “Do more. Please. Don’t
make me wait anymore.”
His hands shaking, he yanked the jeans and lace
panties down her long legs, leaving her naked and wide-eyed, waiting for his
reaction.
He had to wait, to make sure his voice didn’t crack
like a teenager’s. “I always wondered what went on under your clothes. I never
thought I’d find out.”
She said nothing, still waiting, and his heart
squeezed even as his body throbbed.
“Eve, I imagined a lot, but never like this. You’re
beautiful.”
Her eyes closed and her throat worked. “Hurry,” was
all she whispered and he knew she was terrified. Noah wanted to curse, no, to
kill the man who’d left her scarred and scared. But that wouldn’t help either
of them now.
No pressure
,
he thought and let his own trousers drop to the floor in a jingle of keys. She
flinched, just a little, but he saw. So he lay down beside her and started
again, kissing, caressing, until her hands relaxed and her hips lifted, her
body seeking his.
“Please,” she whispered. “I’m ready.” But her eyes
were still closed.
“No, you’re not.” He kept his voice soft. “Look at me,
Eve.”
She opened her eyes. There was arousal there, but
still too much fear. He brought her hand to his lips, then down his body,
wrapping her fingers around him.
“That feels so good,” he said huskily. “I want you to
feel good, not afraid.” He covered her mouth with his once more and teased her,
working one finger up into her, then two until her hips moved restlessly and
little cries burst from her throat.
Now
, he
thought. It had to be now. Slowly, carefully, he pushed inside her, watching
her face. When her eyes met his, relief hit him like a brick. Arousal had won.
And so had Eve. He started to move, never taking his
eyes from hers, and when they clouded with pleasure he felt like he’d conquered
the whole damn world. When she came, convulsing around him, he dropped his head
to her shoulder and followed.
In the minutes afterward, he felt dizzying relief. He
might have had more powerful orgasms, but never one more satisfying. There
would be time for powerful later. Now he rolled them to their sides, and
savored what they’d done.
Eve blew out a breath. “I’m glad that’s over,” she
murmured.
Startled, he blinked down at her. “Excuse me?”
She winced. “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant… hell.
We dove into a cold pool and I was so scared, but you… you were so patient with
me. You couldn’t have enjoyed that very much.” Her brows lifted. “Although you
were exceptionally functional.”
He snorted a surprised laugh. “I’ll have you know I
enjoyed it very much. As did you.”
She smiled shyly, charmingly. “I did.”
“Now that we’re finally in the pool, we’ll both enjoy
it more the next time.”
“Next time?” She looked intrigued. “When might that
be?”
He laughed again. “Give me a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “For understanding that I
needed the shove.”
“Thank you for trusting me.” He raised one brow. “And
for… you know.”
“I do know,” she said sagely. “I’d be interested in
knowing again. If you don’t mind.”
“I think I can sacrifice.”
Thursday, February 25, 12:30 a.m.
He drove by Adele Donner’s house, pleased to see
Donald’s car in the driveway. The house was dark, its occupants tucked into
bed. For now, the fact that Donner was staying with his wife and very elderly
mother made for a wonderfully thin alibi.
He’d let the Hat Squad have Donner for a little while.
They’d question. Interrogate. Use their tough, scary voices. Donner would deny
and tremble. Maybe they’d arrest him right away, but Donner had sufficient
assets to pay the bail the judge would set. Then later, he’d take him and hold
him where no one would find him.
The cops would search high and low, while the press
seethed and the public’s respect for Hat Squad seeped away. And when they’d
been sufficiently humiliated, Donner would be found, having hanged himself, his
suicide note a full confession.
Webster would close the case, defeated and maligned.
And
then I go back to the way things were.
Quietly eliminating the dregs of
society nobody would miss.
He drove away from Adele Donner’s house. It was time
for the sixth of his six to die.
Thursday, February 25, 12:30 a.m.
Virginia Fox looked in the mirror, sighed angrily. She
was not a beautiful woman, and that always mattered to men. She had hoped that
this man would be different, but she knew he wouldn’t be. His screen name was
Dasich. His real name was John.
He was a newbie to Shadowland, eager to learn, and
like all the men, he knew how to sniff out the women who could actually
accomplish something. She’d helped him along, shown him the ropes, knowing he’d
find some excuse to skip away when he’d learned his fill. So she’d been shocked
when he wanted to meet.
More shocked to learn that he lived nearby. In
Wisconsin. He wanted a late-night meet. Said he worked strange shifts, but
Virginia knew the code. He was married and cheating on his wife. It didn’t
matter. It would never go as far as sex. It never did.
Men took one look and went running.
She wasn’t a troll. “I may not be beautiful like
Natalie, but I’m okay,” she snarled to the mirror, angrily slashing lipstick
over her mouth.
Pretty Natalie, smart Natalie. The
“I-just-got-a-promotion-and-a-big-raise” Natalie. The “I’m-your-new-boss”
Natalie
.
“Fuck Natalie.” She threw the lipstick in her purse.
She’d brought Natalie into Shadowland to take her down
a few pegs.
Make her compete in my world
. But some evil genie demon had
touched her and Natalie was good at poker, too.
Fucking pact with Satan
.
“She used me. Took what I knew and got me thrown out of my own place.”
Turned on me, reported me for cheating.
It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t right.
I spent months
building my skill points. Months
. And now, it was all gone. Taken away by…
Natalie
.
“God, I hate that bitch.”
John had been right about her all along.
Using me,
just to make her look better
.
Virginia would have the last laugh. At least tonight
she’d be meeting a man, unlike Natalie who’d be home playing poker, all alone.
Sucked into the game.
Virginia hoped Natalie got addicted. Maybe she’d lose
her job. Virginia brightened.
Hey, that was possible
. Then Natalie would
lose her swanky house, her nice car.
And where do you think she’ll come
crawling?
“Here,” Virginia snapped aloud, pulling her front door closed
behind her.
And then it’ll be payback time
.
She threw her purse into her car so hard it bounced.
“I’ll kick your ass to the curb so hard it’ll leave skid marks. Tell
me
not to meet my man tonight. Tell
me
it’s not safe.” Greedy bitch. She
just wanted all the men, the money, and the power all for herself.
Well, John was one guy Natalie wasn’t going to get.
Virginia would see to that.
Thursday, February 25, 12:30 a.m.
He pulled into the parking lot, gratified to see
Virginia’s car parked outside. She’d been so easy to lure, so jealous of her
friend Natalie. He was sure Natalie had no idea how much her “friend” despised
her. Everything had come so easily for Natalie, her career, her family, even
the men that had come in and out of Natalie’s life. Men she took for granted
while Virginia had been forced to listen to Natalie’s exploits.
Virginia had invited Natalie to the Shadowland poker
table to get some payback, instead finding this an area where Natalie also excelled.
He had to admit, in all his years he’d met few opponents so formidable. He’d
actually never planned to kill Natalie Clooney. She was the closest to real
competition he’d ever met. When he went back to the quiet killing, he’d
reregister in Shadowland and buy another avatar. The poker table was a place
he’d really grown to enjoy, so he’d go back.
And when he did, there’d be no Virginia to spoil his
game. When he’d come along, Virginia had been ripe for the picking. It wasn’t
hard to get her help in beating Natalie at poker. It wasn’t hard to lure her
into side conversations where she bared her soul on topics from the boss that
was against her, to her fear of the dark, to her incompetent therapist. He
pitied anyone who had to listen to that woman for any length of time.