Sticky (18 page)

W
e roll
up to the border crossing in the wee hours, after an all-night drive and a quick pit stop in upstate New York to meet with a guy Gage knows. I don’t ask too many questions when Gage pops into a motorcycle shop and returns half an hour later with three very convincing (to my eye, anyway) Canadian passports. At this point, I’m not sure I want to know everything about his life.

But I’m glad he shared some of it with me. That he trusted me enough to tell me about his mother. To invite me to be there with him when she went.

I know what that feels like. And maybe my mom didn’t hang on as long as his, but I can’t blame him for holding out hope, despite her condition. If my mom had fallen asleep, and all we’d had for a diagnosis was “maybe she’ll wake up, maybe she won’t”? I’m not sure I wouldn’t have done the same thing.

I study Gage’s profile in the dim light of the street lamps. Freddie’s taking his turn at the wheel now, and Gage sits in the backseat beside me, eyes fixed on the windshield, silent and contemplative. We haven’t spoken much the whole trip, aside from to bring up logistics. Pick up what and when and where and arrival times and rehearsing for the border crossing.

We could park somewhere and wait until a more normal hour. Some time of day that would be less suspicious than four going on five in the morning, not even a hint of dawn tinging the horizon yet.

But there’s an unspoken agreement between us, that we all want to get this over with, put the rest of today as far behind us as we possibly can, as soon as we can.

A couple miles from the crossing, though, at one of those “last rest stops before Canada” places, my brother veers off the road.

“I’m sorry, guys, I just need to wash my face or something. Wake up.”

We both nod sleepily. Watch through drowsy eyes as he parks the car.

“Half an hour, tops,” he promises, and then he starts into the rest stop.

Gage meets my eye in the rear view mirror. “How are you holding up?”

I force a tiny, weak smile. “I’ve been worse.”

He turns toward me, and I can’t help it. I mirror the action to face him. In the darkened car, his eyes glitter darkly. “Sloan . . . ”

I watch him, silent.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Repeats that a couple of times. I know how he feels. After today, I have no words left either. After today, I have no idea where we are heading. What the future holds. I can’t see anything beyond our next step. Cross the border. Get out of here. Figure the next part out when we arrive.

My head swims with questions, and suddenly I don’t want answers. All I want anymore is him.

He must read my mind. Before I can say a word, he closes the gap between us. Catches my jaw in one hand, wraps his other around my waist. I stare up at him in the faint light of the rest stop lights, share his breath, breathe in his familiar, heady scent. Then he dips toward me, slowly, so damn slowly it almost kills me, and finally, his lips sink into mine.

He tastes like a promise. He feels like finally knowing I’m safe, after days on the run. I wrap my arms around his neck, and his hand at my waist slides lower, cups my side, squeezes my hip hard. His fingers inch beneath the hem of my jeans and I dig my nails into his neck to draw him closer.

For a split second, my sane brain kicks in. “My brother . . . ” I cast a quick glance toward the rest stop. It’s dim, looking almost deserted. No sign of Freddie anywhere. But then, he said he’d take a while in there.

Gage pulls me back under his spell when he sinks his teeth into the soft, sensitive spot where my neck meets my jaw. He bites, licks, kisses his way down my throat to bury his face in my chest, his tongue lapping at me as his free hand cups my tit, pinches my nipple between his fingers, rolling me until I’m so hard he can feel me even through my bra.

I groan and grind against him. Fuck it. I need him today, if ever.

I let him lay me down along the back seat, the leather digging into my back, creaking faintly beneath us as he unzips himself, and I wriggle my jeans down to my knees. We’re desperate, needy, adrenaline-driven. The rush of our life-or-death escape earlier hits hard, and I’m practically trembling with the force of it.

Or maybe just trembling from him. The crush of his mouth against mine, the slip of his fingers down my panties, the way he clenches my ass so hard it makes me arch up into him, gasping.

His hand traces down my ass, then glides up my slit, making my legs shake where they’re pressed against the car door. He keeps his eyes on me, watching my every move like he can’t get enough of me. He keeps our eyes locked as he presses his finger into me, slowly, an inch at a time, making me squirm beneath him with want. He slides it in and out, once, twice, swirling along my inner walls, making me gasp every time he hits my front wall, and the sensitive spot at its center.

He grins when I gasp, and adds another finger, both gliding in deep this time. I groan softly, as he dips to catch my ear between his teeth and bite gently, just hard enough to set every nerve ending from my neck down aflame.

My knees dig into the car door and steam clouds the windows around us but neither of us can stop ourselves. I reach down for his jeans, trace the hard outline of his cock through them, and savor the way it makes his arms clench, his breathing catch just a little. I love affecting him as much as he does me.

He adds a third finger inside of me, his hand gliding in and out in steady hard thrusts, and my hips buck, even as I tear at his zipper. His cock springs free, and I wrap both hands around his slick, hard member, savoring the velvety smooth feeling of him, and yet the steel-hard strength in him. His breathing catches again, and I lean forward just enough to lick him from base to tip, catching a drop of his pre-cum on my tongue. His hand inside me picks up pace, and I grasp him hard with both hands, stroking his length, feeling every inch of him, as he delves into every inch of my pussy.

Our breath quickens together, and before long, I can’t help it. My whole body shivers as I peak into an orgasm, his fingers still driving into me, keeping it going, and then his pinky presses into my ass, suddenly, a spark of pain and pleasure in the middle of the peak that makes me cry out. It’s hard to make my hands work, there’s so many sensations ricocheting through my body, but I keep stroking him, harder and faster, wanting to bring him to the same climax I’ve reached. Just as I’m about to finish him, though he presses me back against the seat hard, pulls my hands from him to grab his cock himself. He shoves my shirt up around my shoulders, presses his cock between my tits, and squeezes me hard on either side, his fingers digging into me as he thrusts against my chest, hard and fast, his breath short. A few more thrusts and his hot come spills across my chest, dripping down my shoulders and my neck. I wipe my hand across my chest, bring it to my lips to lick the taste of him from my fingers, even as he collapses across me.

He runs a hand through my hair, pulling it back from my face to gaze down at me, at my bare tits, my chest, my neck, my face, my lips, my eyes, everything. “Sloan you are fucking perfect,” he breathes.

I reach for him, just as we hear loud footsteps outside the car.

The windows have steamed enough that we’re probably not visible, mostly. But we both jerk upright, as I yank my shirt back into place and button my jeans, Gage doing the same beside me. We’ve barely managed to slide back into our respective seats when the driver’s door opens and my brother peeks his head inside. He glances between us, a sardonic twist to his lips, like he knows exactly what just fucking happened, but he’s not going to be the one to say.

“You want to drive for the approach?” he asks, eyes on Gage.

“Can do.” Gage’s eyes find mine one last time, a sparkle in them, and a faint smile on his lips, as he slips out his door to cross over to the driver’s seat, as my brother climbs into the passenger side.

I know how he feels. Even now, the aftershocks of that orgasm pulse through my veins, relaxing me. We can do this. We are doing this. We’ll make it through this day just fine.

And after that?

Well. After that, I’ll still have him.

B
order patrol turns
out to be a breeze. The guard doesn’t even ask us any questions as we pass through. He just glances at our passports and flashes all three of us a huge smile. “Welcome home.”

I try to tamp down the tremor in my hands as I accept the papers. I know the guy who forged them well; he’s done stellar work for me in the past and on far less notice, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. But somehow, some part of me is still amped up, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For this whole thing to turn sour.

Part of me is expecting to lose her all over again.

I have a feeling it’s going to take me a while to get used to having everything I could ever want or need. I glance in the rearview as we speed toward Montreal, and I can’t fight the smile that breaks out, watching her doze against the car door, her perfect face relaxed and at peace, at last.

“You better treat her well, man,” Freddie speaks up from the passenger seat.

I startle. I’d thought he was asleep, based on the way he’s slouched in his chair, chin drooping on his chest. But I guess he’s having the same problem I am. Too much pent up adrenaline to relax yet.

“Like a queen,” I promise him, my gaze darting to the rearview again, drawn irresistibly to her, to her soft, beautiful features and her gorgeous body and the fire and spark in her.

Freddie shifts in his seat, leans against the door now. “I’d offer the usual sibling threats, but somehow I have a feeling, with you I don’t need to.” He glances at me, and half-smiles in the pre-dawn light. “You know what she’s worth.”

“Believe me,” I tell him. “I really, really do.”

We pull up at the hotel around eleven in the morning. Old town Montreal, a little bed and breakfast deal, because I don’t much like the idea of staying in some big corporate hotel when we’re aiming to lie low.

Sloan finally stirs from the deep sleep she’d fallen into after our reunion this morning, and stretches like a cat, her back arching from the seat. It immediately fills my head with a dozen other ways I could make her back arch like that, and I have to take a deep breath before I climb out of the car, lest my imagination run away with me.

Plenty of time for that soon.

We check in, asking for two rooms, and without a question or a single word, Freddie heads up to his room, leaving Sloan and I with the key to the master suite that the bubbly, very solicitous woman at the front desk offered us.

We push open the door to our room, which is huge considering the size of this B&B, with a giant king-size bed, a couch in the corner, and a whole mini kitchen. We don’t waste time admiring the view, though. At least, not the view of the room.

The instant the door slams behind us, I have her in my arms, lifting her up, walking us backwards until we fall across the bed. I tear her clothes off, stripping every inch of fabric from her, because I want to feel every inch of her skin against mine. When I lay down along her, it’s with a sense of finally coming back home, after far too long away. I run my hands over her perfect tits, her stomach, her hips, her thick thighs, just waiting for my fingers to sink into them. I slide down her body, licking her throat, between her tits, tasting myself on her skin still because we haven’t even made it to the shower yet, and I fucking love tasting myself on her, knowing she’s mine, I’ve claimed her. I trace her nipple with my tongue, let my teeth sink into her soft flesh and savor the gasps and groans she makes. Every sound she lets out kills me, it’s so fucking sexy.

I work down her body, over her stomach, flicking my tongue into her navel, grinning when she squirms at that. I nibble at her hips, her thighs, the inside crook where her leg meets her hipbone. I shove her legs open wide, pinning her against the bed, and I lap at her, my tongue delving deep into her folds, the salty, savory taste of her filling my senses.

I lick and suck at her until she cries aloud, and then I keep going, taking her to the peak again and again. I cannot get enough of her. I never will.

I’ll never have to, now.

When I finally slide back up her body to let my eager, painful erection sink into her tight, pulsing pussy, I know that now, more than ever, I am finally home. And when I finish and I sink to the bed beside her, spent, and she’s still panting from her own orgasms, I drape my arm around her waist and pull her in close against me.

“You know I never would have let him touch you, Sloan. I would have torn the whole world apart to save you. When I saw you sitting on that couch, tied up like that . . . ” My voice fails, but she turns in my arms to press a kiss to my cheek, her eyes glistening.

“I know. Everything you did, everything you went through . . . ”

“I can’t make excuses for myself, Sloan. I can’t offer you a better man, the man you probably deserve. But I can tell you that I will be so much more for you than I have ever been before. I’m leaving Aaron, all of that shit behind me. From here on, I live for you, and no one else.”

She runs her hands through my hair, her fingertips grazing the back of my neck, in a way that drives me wild. In a way that makes me want to roll her over and sink into her again and again. I will never be able to get enough of this woman. And that’s just the way I want it to be.

“I’m yours, Gage,” she whispers. “From the moment we first kissed, I knew it had to be you. It is you. No matter what. Nothing will tear us apart again.”

And then I give into the urge, I pull her against me and kiss her soft bow lips, intertwine my tongue with hers, and slide my hands down her perfect body, ready to make her come.