Escape (Last Chance Series, Book 3.5) (2 page)

Then suddenly she felt him tense, his hands tightening on her shoulders as he pulled her up across his body.

“I want to be inside you,” he growled, his eyes dark with passion.  

She rolled off him, spreading her legs invitingly, and he lowered himself on top of her, his penis resting hot against her.  Then, bracing himself on his elbows, their gazes locked and with one slow stroke and he was inside her, penetrating only to the head. 

With an impatient sigh, she pushed against him, wanting more, but he shook his head, instead lowering his head to suck first one breast and then the other, rolling her nipples between his teeth, the sensation sending shards of white hot heat pooling between her legs.

She tried again to move, to get him to engage, but he held her firmly, his tongue circling one nipple and then the other, his teasing touch making them so hard she thought they might burst.  His thumb found her soft core and started the magical flicking, the rhythm matching the movement of his tongue against her breasts. 

She writhed against him, mewing like a small kitten, the sounds emanating from deep inside her.  Colors washed through her head, and she fought to hang onto control, the power of his hand and mouth driving her closer and closer to the brink.

Then suddenly he moved, his penis thrusting in and out, building a tension so sweet and so tight that she felt as if she was going to shatter.   She matched his pace, her body pounding against his, the ferocity of their mating earthy and primal.  Their scents mixed together, heated and sweating, and she wanted more, still more.

As if reading her mind, he withdrew, the separation almost making her cry, but before she could protest, he had flipped her over and entered her from behind, the contact even more intimate than before.

He covered her breasts with his calloused palms, squeezing and kneading in time to his thrusting.  Again she spiraled upward, sensation reaching a fever pitch, and she tossed back her head, moaning his name.

Tension built between them like a delicately strung wire, pulling tighter and tighter, pleasure and pain mixing as one, need driving every move.  His hands tightened as he pushed deeper and deeper.   Higher and higher they climbed, locked into a cataclysmic spiral that threatened to undo her.  

“Seth, now.”  Her voice was rough with passion, barely more than a whisper.  “Please.”

He plunged again, deeper still, and she fell from the precipice, the explosion rocking through her with an intensity that satiated and starved all at one time.  But before she could draw a breath, he broke contact again, pulling her down so  that she was on the top.  His breathing was as labored as hers, his eyes filled with passion, and his erection if possible even harder.

Still shaking from the first climax, she slid down on him with a shuddering sigh, and began to move, the delicious friction igniting her passion all over again.  Up and down, in and out, the movement creating exquisite agony.  She was in
charge, his fate in her hands, and the power combined with her desire was heady.  She slowed, teasing him with the motion, torturing herself as well as him. 

Her body strained to find release again, even as her mind fought to control it.  And she bent to brush her lips across his.  He reached for her head, deepening the kiss, drinking her very essence.  And with the contact, the power shifted. 

He grasped her hips, forcing his own rhythm, thrusting harder and deeper, faster and faster, the friction of their bodies moving together ratcheting her need higher and higher.

And still he thrust.  Her passageway tightened around him, holding him inside her
, until she could no longer tell where he ended and she began.  Deeper, deeper, faster, faster.  And still they climbed higher, locked together in a kaleidoscope of emotion and sensation that seemed beyond endurance. 

She felt his hands tighten hard against her hips, and then the world exploded, light and heat combusting into sensations so intense she felt as though she might be ripped apart.  Wave after wave washed through her, pleasure and pain so intricately bound, her body shook with the impact.

And then slowly, still shuddering from the power of her climax, she drifted back to earth, Seth’s arms tightening around her as they rolled over, her head cradled against his chest, the steady beat of his heart matching the cadence of her own. 

Later, much later, Tracy woke to partial darkness. 
Nighttime in New York.  Flickers of red and blue danced across her ceiling, undulating across the plaster.  She frowned for a moment, her brain still fuzzy with sleep and the aftermath of sex.  But then she focused, the light taking on meaning.

A police car stopped somewhere along the street outside.  Her pathologist’s brain immediately moved to the macabre.  And she sat up, her brain clearing as she moved instinctively to the window, clutching the sheet around her.

Below her, she could see a cruiser, lights flashing.  And a second car.  A woman in a beaded dress and four inch heels stood by the vehicle, teetering slightly as an officer administered a breathalyzer test.  Just a drunk.

Tracy shook her head, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed.  Such was the nature of her vocation.  She hated the idea of death—especially a violent one.  But she also relished the mystery. 
The challenge of finding a body’s final truth.  The ultimate last testament. 

With a small laugh, she climbed back into bed, tucking the sheet around her as she reached for the files stacked on
the beside table.  Braxton Labs only took on the most difficult cases.  Or the most unusual.  Things that stretched her abilities and pushed her to be better.  Her father had always insisted that being at the top of one’s game wasn’t an excuse to coast but an admonition to strive for even more.

Her father had never approved of her choices.  But still there was a part of her that wanted to please him. 
To prove that she was worthy.  Which, considering that she hadn’t been born a son, and more importantly, that her father was long dead, was impossible.

Angry at the turn of her thoughts, she opened the first file, focusing on the report inside.  An apparent suicide that on further examination had turned out to be murder.  A discovery that had pissed off a couple of local M.E.’s but had proven to be
well-founded. Especially when the culprit turned out to be a prominent state senator.

It would probably be a while before she was welcome in Georgia again.

Par for the course.  

But then she hadn’t chosen her profession to make friends.  Truth
be told, except for a very small group of people she truly trusted, Tracy was happier with the dead.  They were a hell of a lot less judgmental. 

She reached for the next file, a body found frozen in a well in Minnesota.  A presumed accident that already was looking like anything but.  Dental records had identified the deceased as an employee of a DOD contractor—located in California.  Originally from Texas, there was nothing to indicate that the man had any reason to have been in Minnesota.  She flipped to the latest report hoping for something to elaborate on cause of death and then froze, frowning as something rattled beyond the bedroom doorway.   Moving slowly, she rolled over, reaching for the drawer in the bedside table that held her gun. 

Then the metal clang of a pan hitting the cast iron burner registered.  The kitchen.

Oh God.

Seth.

She’d completely forgotten.

Her gaze moved across the room to the chair with his shirt and jacket draped across the back.  Even in the aftermath of mind-blowing sex, he was always one for things in their proper place.  They made quite a pair.

She smiled, feeling a little guilty that she’d forgotten about him, even if only for a moment.  It was always like that when she started to think about work.  Everything else completely blocked from her mind.

It had been a deal breaker for most of the men she’d dated.  And to be honest that had suited her just fine.  She liked things simple.  Good sex.  A little companionship.  And maybe the occasional dinner partner for necessary functions. 

Anything else demanded too much.  She was committed first and foremost to her work.  And thankfully, so was Seth.  One of the FBI’s top counterterrorist agents, he was often on assignment for months at a time. 
Usually undercover and therefore unreachable.  Which worked nicely with the fact that she, too, was also often engrossed in a case for long periods of time.

When they were together it was always amazing. But just as important, when it came time to get back to work, there were no recriminations.  She’d played that game before and she wasn’t interested in doing it again.

Still, she understood how lucky she was to have someone like Seth in her life.  Someone who understood where she was coming from.  Someone who accepted that she wasn’t interested in the white picket fence.

As if on cue, Seth appeared in the doorway, a crooked smile on his face, wearing nothing but his tux pants.  She swallowed hard, her eyes drifting along the hard planes of his chest, following the thin line of hair that led to the part of his body she loved the best.

His smile widened as he recognized the drift of her thoughts.  “Food first.”  With a flourish, he held out a tray holding a plate, covered with a pan lid and a single rosebud  in a shot glass.   She recognized the rose from the arrangement in the foyer, a ridiculously extravagant weekly luxury she’d allowed herself once her company had made it big.  “Okay so the bloom is borrowed,” he shrugged, correctly following the direction of her thoughts. “The gesture is mine.”

He crossed over to the bed, and held out the tray.

Tracy pulled the sheet more securely around her, not sure exactly why she felt the need for modesty, but a niggle of something worked its way up her spine.  She’d made a name for herself using intuition and now, suddenly, the alarm bells were clanging in her head.

Seth looked nervous and…hopeful.

Tracy’s heart sank.  

She took the tray, feeling suddenly, like Alice, that she’d fallen through the looking glass.

Holding her breath, she pulled off the makeshift plate cover, praying for eggs.  Instead, a diamond glittered among an artfully arranged bed of rose petals.

Damn it.  It was perfect.

And impossible. 

“What’s this?” she choked out, trying without success, to keep her voice light.

Seth had dropped to one knee.  “I know it isn’t as romantic as it should be,” he said.  “But it always seems like we’re on borrowed time. And I just thought…” he paused, his green eyes glittering with emotion, “I mean, what I’m trying to say, and not doing very well obviously, is that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”  He paused, for a moment, reaching for her hand.  “So will you marry me?”

“Oh God, Seth,” she said, pulling her fingers free, clutching the sheet more tightly around her as she watched pain flash across his face.  “I’m sorry.  I thought I’d made it clear how I feel about marriage.”

“You did,” he said, his voice clipped as he stepped away from her, and she wished she could just turn back the clock and somehow escape this moment.  Anything to avoid hurting him like this. But there was no changing the way she felt.  Marriage had never been an option.  “I guess I just thought that maybe with me it was different.”

“It is different,” she protested, feeling like the proverbial rug had been jerked from beneath her. “I thought we were both on the same page.  We don’t live the kind of lives that fit with marriage.  You’re gone.  I’m gone.  Our work comes first.  I thought we shared that.”

“And I thought that was precisely the reason why we do fit together.  Why it’s right.  Why
you
were the one.  I love you, Tracy.  And I thought you loved me.”

Love was a fucking
four letter word.  It was trite, but true.  And she’d never reacted well when backed into a corner.  “Of course I care about you,” she said, fighting to breathe.  How the hell had they gotten to this point?  “But I thought things were really good the way they were—the way they are.”

“No strings.” Seth retreated another step. 

“Of course there are strings.  I just told you how much I care about you.  Only you.  But not marriage.” She held up a hand.  “I was clear from the beginning.  Marriage just isn’t for me.”  She almost added ‘not again’ but held the words.  This wasn’t the time for true confessions.  Either Seth understood or he didn’t.  She wasn’t going to compromise.  Her freedom—her life—was everything. And no man was worth giving that up for.

Not even Seth.

Her heart twisted in pain, but she pushed it aside.  She’d set the rules from the beginning.  She’d be damned if she’d feel guilty because he’d chosen to break them.

“I see.”  It was clear he didn’t see anything, and Tracy felt a moment of panic.  But there was nothing to discuss.  She did care about Seth.  Maybe more than she’d ever cared about anyone else before.  But that didn’t mean that she had to surrender to his need for some kind of traditional commitment.

“Obviously you don’t,” she said, hating the note of pleading in her voice.  “Seth, I love what we have.  And I don’t want to lose it.  But I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t want to marry anyone.”

“Meaning you don’t want to marry me.”  He nodded as if accepting an unwanted edict.