Running Wilde (12 page)

She crossed her arms in front of her, keenly aware she wore only a towel. “I’m not telling you. How did you get in here?” She looked at the door, saw the chain hanging broken from the wall. Of course. Vaughn Wilde didn’t know the meaning of the word finesse.

Slowly, he unfolded his long body from the chair. “Why did you run?”

She stepped back as he took a step forward, but she had nowhere to go and they both knew it. She was trapped.

“You’re a liar. You work for him.”

“I don’t work for anybody but my brothers.” He slid another step toward her.

She backed up again and banged her shoulder on the bathroom doorjamb. “Then explain why the hell Giuseppe Bellisario has your phone number!”

He stopped short halfway across the room, and his eyes widened, then narrowed. “Jesus. Is that who you’re running from? The Bellisario family?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her face away, because his expression of surprise was too realistic, too compelling, and she couldn’t risk trusting this man. She’d already come too close once. “Like you don’t already know.”

“No, I honestly don’t,” he said, and God, she wanted to believe he was telling the truth. “Sage, I don’t work for Bellisario. I only landed on his radar a few days ago because I’m a fucking idiot and got involved in one of his underground fight rings. He wants to hire me for a job, but I’ve been ducking him.”

It sounded like the truth, but if there was one thing she’d learned while running for her life, it was that lies often did. “You’ve been ducking him?” she said doubtfully and gave a humorless laugh. “That’s dangerous.”

“No shit. That’s why we were run off the road. He was sending me a message.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why not, hmm?” He was so close now, she felt the heat of his body. The clean scent of soap and male wrapped around her as he caged her against the wall. “Have I ever been less than truthful with you?”

She shut her eyes, breathed out softly. “No.”

“Then why do you think I’d start lying to you now?”

“Giuseppe has a lot of money.”

“Oh, vixen.” He cupped her head in both of his hands, tangled his fingers in the hair at her temples. The corner of his mouth kicked up in a smile as he gave her head a little shake. “If I wanted money, I wouldn’t be a PI. I sure as hell wouldn’t have been a SEAL. Money doesn’t motivate me.”

She met his gaze. Saw anger there, yes, but also something else. Something like…fear. Was he afraid for
her
? “Then what does motivate you?”

Instead of answering, he leaned in and captured her lips.

Chapter Fourteen

He kissed her with a tenderness she’d never experienced before from him—or anyone—and tears flooded her eyes.

He drew back mere centimeters, their lips almost still touching, and thumbed away her tears before kissing her again. While her brain didn’t want to risk trusting him, her heart was all for it. She clung to h
im, pulled him closer, needing his body against hers.

But he wasn’t in a hurry.

His kisses were sweet, lingering, as he backed her toward the bed. He gently sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and heat surged straight to her core. The backs of her knees hit the bed.

Oh God, she wanted nothing more than to sink down onto that mattress with him and lose herself in sensation for a little while. And because she wanted it so badly, she flattened her hands on his chest and gave him a little push.

“Vaughn.” Her voice cracked on his name. “Stop.”

He stared down into her eyes for a long moment, searching for…something. At last, he heaved out a breath and stepped back. “If that’s what you want.”

She didn’t know what she wanted. Him? Yes. She’d always wanted him, and that was the problem.

She hugged herself and moved away from both him and the temptation of the bed. “How did you find me?”

Sighing, he sat down on the edge of the mattress and dragged his hands through his hair. He was silent for so long, she finally turned to face him and saw a ravaged expression she hadn’t expected. He usually kept his emotions so locked-down it was hard to read him, but right now there was no mistaking the raw fear in his eyes when he met her gaze.

“I thought I saw you die today, Sage.”

“What?” she breathed. Her legs suddenly went numb beneath her, and she sank into a chair.

“After you left the motel, Cam called. He found out we’d been in an accident and demanded I take myself to the nearest ER. So I did.”

Despite the dread roiling in her stomach, she had to smile at that. Cam was the only person in the world who could get Vaughn to do something he didn’t want to do, like go to a hospital. “I’m glad he made you go.”

He scowled, then shook his head and continued. “While I was sitting in the waiting room, an ambulance pulled up. A woman had been shot twice. She was a blonde, wearing a Navy T-shirt and black leggings…”

“Oh, no.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and bent double to keep the surge of nausea down. She didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want confirmation of her fears. “No, no, no.”

“I watched her die,” Vaughn said, his voice raw. “And I thought she was you.”

The homeless woman. She’d given that woman her clothes to throw Vaughn and everyone else off her trail. She hadn’t even asked the woman’s name. Hadn’t cared, had only seen her as a means to an end. And because of it, she’d gotten that woman killed.

Bile raced up her throat, and she lurched toward the bathroom. Dry-heaved over the sink as tears streamed in an uncontrollable flood. Vaughn was right there beside her, his big hand rubbing circles in the center of her back.

“I killed her,” she gasped. “Oh God. I killed her.”

She couldn’t draw in an entire breath, her throat too tight, her lungs painfully constricted. White dots started dancing in front of her eyes.

“Jesus.” Vaughn scooped her up. She was helpless to do anything but wrap her arms around his neck and try to keep breathing as he strode to the bed. He sat down and cradled her in his lap.

“Sage, breathe. In and out, nice and slow.” His voice was a soothing murmur against her temple. His hand continued its slow circles on her back. “C’mon. Deep breath in. Let it out. In. Out.”

She focused on his soft words, the comfort of his arms around her, and his hand on her back. Several long minutes passed before her breathing settled to something approaching normal. She curled into him, buried her face against his neck, and let the grief, the wrenching sobs she’d been suppressing, come. And still, he held her. Soothed her.

When the crying jag ended, she lay limp in his arms, exhausted. He shifted them both up onto the bed, and the mattress sank under their combined weight as he lay down with her.

“I didn’t mean for her to die,” she whispered.

He pushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill her.”

“I didn’t pull the trigger, but she’d be alive if I hadn’t given her my clothes.” She blinked away another round of tears. “I didn’t even ask her name. She died because they thought she was me, and I don’t even know her name…”

“Ah, vixen.” Vaughn pressed a kiss to her forehead. “What can I do to help? Please, tell me what I can do.”

In truth, he was already doing it. She’d been alone for so long she didn’t remember what it felt like to not be, and having someone comfort her was a new experience. A shoulder to cry on was so much better than muffling sobs in a pillow, soldiering through the pain and fear and loneliness that were her life because she had no other choice. For once, she could let herself fall apart, secure in the knowledge Vaughn would be right there to help her put the pieces back together when it was over.

She shifted closer to him. “Just…hold me.”

His arms circled her, and he dragged her in, tangling their legs together, curling his body around hers like a shield. “I’m here. I have you.”

She buried her face against his chest. Listened to the air rush in and out of his lungs, and the strong, steady pulse of his heartbeat. “Why did you come after me again?”

Vaughn said nothing for so long she didn’t think he’d answer. “I wasn’t going to.”

“You shouldn’t have. You should’ve walked away and let me disappear.”

“I can’t.” He huffed out a breath, which sounded a lot like a self-depreciating laugh. “I once accused Cam of having a hero complex. Turns out I have one, too. I know you’re in danger, and as long as you are, I can’t walk away.”

“Vaughn, I’ve been in danger for a long time. The only thing you’ve accomplished by tracking me down is putting yourself directly in the line of fire, too.”

“The line of fire’s a place I’ve been before. Multiple times. I’m not worried.”

“You should be.” She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Giuseppe is dangerous.”

He flashed a smile that was just a bit mean. “So am I.”

Oh, this man. This stubborn, grumbly man. He was no bark and all bite, and she loved that about him. She kissed the underside of his jaw, and he dropped his chin to his chest to meet her gaze. So many things passed between them in that moment—thrilling, scary things she didn’t dare name. She didn’t know who moved first, but their lips met in a soft, soul-wrenching kiss, and she ached to be closer to him. Maybe she was using him as a distraction from all the self-hatred boiling inside her, or maybe it was a much more primal need than a diversion, but she suddenly wanted one more time with him more than she wanted anything else in her life. Just one brief moment to experience pleasure with the only man she’d ever felt comfortable enough with to let herself go.

She pushed him to his back and rose up over him, straddling him. He was already hard, and she rocked her hips, grinding against his length through the layers of his clothes.

He groaned and curled his fingers around her waist. “Oh, fuck.”

“I intend to.” She pushed up his shirt and leaned over to drag her tongue over the hard ridges of his stomach and up his chest. “You’re the only man who has ever held me while I cried. The only one who has ever tried to help. I want to thank you for that.”

She was careful of the bruises along his ribs as she crawled up his body and finally found one nipple with her lips.

His fingers tightened in her towel like he wanted to tear it to pieces. “You don’t have to thank me at all. Especially not with sex.”

She released his nipple and met his gaze. “But I want to. Do you have a condom?”

“In my pocket.”

“Perfect.” Smiling, she slipped down his hard body again, trailing kisses across his abs as she went. While she dipped her fingers into his pocket for the condom, she used her teeth to open his fly. He was commando underneath, and she closed her lips around him, circled his head, and savored him with her tongue.

The sound he made when she released him was pure masculine need. She opened her towel, let it drop, and watched him as he drank in the sight of her naked body. She knew she had the goods men liked, which had always been both an asset and a problem, but she never felt beautiful. Except when Vaughn looked at her with that stark want in his eyes, like he was starving for a taste of her. Then she felt more than beautiful. She was powerful and feminine, the only woman he saw, the only woman he wanted. It made her heart pound with heady anticipation and her sex dampen with need.

“Take off your clothes, Vaughn. I want you naked.”

He sprang up off the bed like he couldn’t comply fast enough and shrugged off his shirt, kicked away his jeans and boots. Then he stood before her, naked, every inch of him gloriously male.

He dragged her up for a kiss, but she ducked away. She tossed the condom at him. “Put that on.”

His cock jumped against his stomach. He was long and thick, and he handled himself with a careless roughness as he rolled the condom on.

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Now what?”

“Lie down.” She wanted to be on top.

Still smirking, he settled back on the bed and pillowed his hands behind his head. Apparently her SEAL liked taking orders. Good thing, because she liked giving them.

She straddled him again and positioned his cock at her entrance. His smirk faded, and his stomach muscles tensed as she slid down his length, inch by inch.

Vaughn groaned, and his hands circled her hips, holding her while he surged up underneath her in slow, short thrusts that left her body tingling.

She closed her eyes, immersing herself in the rhythm that was the two of them joining together until he was buried all the way inside her. She’d never felt so whole as when she was with him. It was something beautiful and special. Something she’d never had before and would likely never have again.

“Vixen, open your eyes.” His voice was as intimate as a caress, and she did as he asked. “Let me watch you touch yourself. Make yourself come while I’m inside you.”

She shivered and dragged a hand between her breasts, over her stomach, and down to where they were joined. She was already so sensitive, the light brush of her fingers sent tremors racing through her. She gasped and fell forward, catching herself with her free hand on the mattress beside his head.

Vaughn tightened his hold on her hips, keeping her steady as his thrusts became harder, faster. “Fuck, yeah. That was hot. Let me see it again.”

Sensation bombarded her from every direction, fuzzing her thoughts and narrowing her world to the sexy man rocking underneath her, his stomach muscles rippling with each upward thrust.

She caught her breath and straightened, which drove him even deeper. They both moaned. She circled her hips, taking control of the pace, and he let her, his hands now free to wander and caress and stroke. He cupped her breasts, and his rough thumbs rasping over her nipples while she rode him was one of the most erotic sensations she’d ever felt. She shuddered and lost her rhythm. He drew his legs up, pushed his feet into the bed for leverage, and took over again.

“Vixen.” His eyes were blue fire, burning her with their intensity as he watched her. “Touch yourself again.”

When she did, she came unraveled, the pleasure of the orgasm exploding through her. Her body locked down on his. Distantly, she heard him curse, then he sat up and captured her mouth with his, swallowing her cries of pleasure. He rolled her over and tangled his fingers in her hair. She wrapped herself around him—arms, legs, and heart—and held on as his thrusts became shorter, faster, and he, too, lost control.

“Sage,” he groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder as his big body shuddered over hers with his release. He whispered her name and again…

Only it wasn’t her name. Not really.

Her heart split wide open, and tears flooded her eyes. She didn’t want to be Sage to him. She wanted to be someone else, someone…real. God, she was thinking dangerous, crazy things, and her heart pounded with fear of it, but despite everything, she trusted this man. He was safe, and she wanted him to see her for who she was. Her real self. Just this once.

“My name,” she whispered, “is Dahlia.”

He lifted his head and stared down at her, but he said nothing for several heartbeats. His damp hair fell into his eyes, obscuring them, and she had no way of reading his expression. Finally, he propped himself up on one arm and cupped her cheek in his hand, his thumb rubbing lightly back and forth across her lower lip.

“I don’t care,” he said on barely a breath of sound. He pumped his hips again, punctuating his words with shallow thrusts that triggered another soft orgasm. He weaved his hands into the strands of her hair on both sides of her head and held her still for a long, drugging kiss. “I don’t care what your name is. All that matters is you’re mine now. You’re fucking mine, and I’m not letting you run anymore.”