Lethal Consequences (22 page)

“Oh God, Landon.” Her hands fisted against the solid wood. “More.”

“Like that?” He pulled out, slid down to circle her clit again. Electrical vibrations rocked through her. She moaned and arched once more. He moved back up and pressed a little farther inside, stretching her wider. “Or that?”

The constant circling, the wet push and pull so shallow inside her—there but not nearly enough—drove her mad. She turned her head, pressing her cheek against the door again. Every time she pushed back, trying to coax him farther inside, he eased slightly away, never letting her take control, never letting her have all of him. Her top teeth sank against her bottom lip. Memories of how good he’d felt inside her in that barn, how thick and hard he’d been, bombarded her from every side. She wanted to feel that again. Wanted to feel him deep. All she needed was a little more . . .

“God, Livy.” His hand slid down her spine. Tingles erupted everywhere he touched. “You are so damn sexy.”

Circle. Press. Slide. Retreat.
She couldn’t take it anymore. Every inch of her body was on fire. Every inch of her skin was straining and slicked with sweat.

“You’re killing me,” she panted. “Stop teasing me already and fuck me.”

He leaned close and closed his teeth over her earlobe. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He shoved deep and groaned. Pleasure ripped through her core—the feel of him so far inside, the sounds of his pleasure. She arched and cried out. He answered by withdrawing, dragging his cock along her sensitive walls, then thrusting hard all over again.

Fuck . . .
The word echoed in her head. She’d never liked the sound of it, not before her abduction and definitely not after, thanks to the men who’d taken her and who’d sworn constantly in English and other languages. But this . . .
fuck, fuck
, Landon fucking her so hard and deep . . . this felt so good. So right. So absolutely everything she needed.

“Yes.” She pushed back against him, meeting every thrust. His left hand closed over her breast. The other streaked back up to her neck, gently pressing against her jaw, turning her mouth toward his once more.

He kissed her deeply, his tongue flicking against hers again and again, just as his cock was sliding deep. She hooked her arm around his neck, twisting her upper body so she could touch him, so she could kiss him harder. She groaned into his mouth, arched so he could drive deeper. Her orgasm rushed toward her. She lifted her hips out and back, trying to draw him closer. His mouth turned wild against hers, and the fingers of his free hand slid down her torso, across her lower belly, and into her slick, aching heat.

One touch was all it took. One brush of his fingers over her aching clit. The orgasm exploded inside her, dragging her lips from his, pulling a scream from her throat that echoed in her ears, making her entire body tremble with the force of the mind-rocking pleasure.

He kept on thrusting, and she rode the wave, letting it glide along every nerve ending in her body, loving each tiny shock and ripple of sensation. Her arm fell from his neck, and she dropped her forehead against the door once more, sucking in as much air as she could get. But she only had a split second to catch her breath. Because he pulled out of her body, whipped her around, and pressed her back against the door while the room was still spinning.

“Again,” he whispered, trailing his hands down to her ass, pushing his way between her legs, lifting her feet off the floor. “Come for me again.” He shoved deep inside her burning sex as his mouth closed over hers.

Olivia wasn’t sure she could. But she opened to his kiss, licking into his mouth while his thick cock drove deep. Her arms landed on his shoulders, and she wove her legs around his back. He pinned her against the door while he fucked her, harder and faster than before. All she could do was tighten her arms and legs and hold on. His lips slid from her mouth to her jaw, then to the soft skin behind her ear. His breath ran hot over her skin, making her shiver. She closed her eyes, trailed her fingers up into his hair, and tightened every muscle, wanting it to be as good for him as he’d made it for her, wanting to feel his release now more than hers.

“Ah God, Livy . . .” He plunged deep again and again. His teeth closed over her neck. Pain spiraled from the spot, but the pleasure between her legs overrode everything else. She felt him growing harder, thicker, felt him reaching places he hadn’t touched before. Sweat slicked his skin, sliding over hers. Her fingers tightened in his hair. A second—or was it third?—orgasm spiraled toward her.

“Kiss me, Landon.” She yanked on his hair, dragged his head back, and closed her lips over his, tightening every muscle in her body. He shoved in hard once more, hitting that perfect spot. And as her orgasm crashed into her—this one so much stronger than the others—she pulled her mouth from his and cried out his name. And when she heard his deep, pleasure-filled groan, when she felt his whole body shake, she knew he’d just followed her over the edge and was spilling days of frustration and need inside her.

She held on to him while his body twitched. Pressed soft, tender kisses to his temple, his cheek, anything she could reach while he held her against the door and tried to catch his breath. Muscles in her arms and legs ached, and she knew she was going to be sore, but she didn’t care. That had been way more than she’d ever expected or hoped for.

“I’m hurting you,” he mumbled after several seconds.

Olivia smiled. That was the Landon she knew. Always worrying about her. But suddenly that didn’t bother her anymore either. Because he’d finally let go of his passion, and she’d just proved to him she wasn’t breakable. “Do I look hurt?”

He drew back, just enough so he could see her face. His worried gaze skipped over her, and then his brow dropped. “Um, no. You don’t. You look—”

“Satisfied?”

A frown pulled at his tempting lips. “Yeah.”

Her smile widened. “I am.” She leaned in and brushed her mouth over his. “Very much so.” She tipped her head and kissed him again. “Though I have a feeling it will wear off. You might have to do that again. Soon.”

He groaned at her words, opened to her kiss. And as his tongue brushed hers, soft and sweet this time, her heart filled.

“Jesus, Livy,” he whispered against her lips. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

Everything. She kissed him again. She wanted to do everything to him. Wanted to be everything for him. His hands tightened around her, holding her up, and gently he eased her away from the door, moving both of them farther into her room, all the while kissing her with those tempting masculine lips that made her weak in the knees.

He laid her out on the bed, still kissing her, then rolled so she was on top of all his muscular, sexy goodness. And when she was breathless, when she had to pull away to draw air, he looked up at her with the softest, stormiest eyes she’d ever seen. Eyes that weren’t lust-filled and wild anymore. Eyes that brimmed with guilt and regret.

Those eyes shot straight to the center of her chest and stole her breath. She knew what he was about to say. Knew he was going to tell her that was a mistake and couldn’t happen again. But she wasn’t about to listen. She slid down and rested her head on his chest, loving the beat of his heart against her cheek. Loving the warmth of his skin bare against hers. Loving . . . him.

Eve was right. She’d totally fallen for him. But not the fantasy hero Eve assumed. No, Olivia had fallen for the real, live man. The broken, damaged, wounded man who was still too afraid to let her get close.

“Livy.” His fingers slid along her scalp and down her locks to tease and tickle the ends of her hair. “In the morning, you need to—”

Oh no. They weren’t going there. Not right now. Not when those delicious orgasms still echoed in her body.

“Can I ask you something?”

His hand stilled in her hair, and beneath her cheek, she felt his pulse pick up speed.

Interesting.
She made him nervous. She liked that. Liked it a lot because it told her this wasn’t just physical on his part. It was so much more.

“Yeah,” he said cautiously.

Olivia placed her palms on his chest and rested her chin on the back of her hand, looking up at his handsome, bruised face. “Where do you live?”

His features relaxed, and he twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. “Atlanta.”

“House or apartment?”

“Apartment.”

“It’s hot in Atlanta.”

“Sometimes.”

She smiled because this was what normal couples did. They talked. “Do you like it?”

He shrugged, still playing with her hair. “I don’t dislike it. I’m not there all that much, so I don’t think about it. It’s just a home base.”

“Are you from Atlanta?”

He shook his head.

“Then how did you end up there?”

He looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Major airport. Centrally located. Easy to get places.”

That’s how he picked where he lived? That was so . . . sad.

He looked down at her with narrowed eyes. “Why the twenty questions?”

This time it was her turn to shrug. “Just curious.” She ran her finger over the scar high across his cheek. “How did you get this?”

He stiffened beneath her. And several long seconds passed before he said, “My father.”

A little voice warned this wasn’t a conversation for the after-sex glow, but she wanted to know about him. Wanted to know everything. “How?”

He stared at her with assessing eyes, and she knew she’d hit some kind of nerve. She braced herself for him to pull away, but he surprised her when he said, “My dad was a big guy. Built like me.” He lifted his hand from her back and turned it in the light, looking at his wide palm and long fingers. “He had big hands. Like mine.” His fingers curled against his palm, forming a fist. “And he liked to use them.”

Unease filtered through Olivia, and that conversation she’d had with Eve echoed in her mind.

He sighed and dropped his hand. “He drank, and when he was loaded, he used to like to beat up on my mom. He’d never touch me, though. If I did something to piss him off, she’d step between us, then send me to my room. From the time I was little I can remember them fighting. I can still hear the sounds. Not a great way to grow up.”

No, Olivia guessed it would be a horrible way to grow up. “What happened?”

“One night when I was twelve, he came home rip-roaring drunk. I was at a friend’s house. But when I walked in the door, he was pounding on her. Her face was black and blue and bleeding. I could tell he wasn’t done and that he was just getting started. But by that point, I’d had enough. I got between them, which pissed him off even more. He slammed the beer he was drinking against the counter, shattering the bottle, and hurled the jagged glass toward me.” He waved his finger near the scar high on his cheek. “Hit me right here.” He waved his finger again across his jaw, near the smaller scar on the same side of his face. “And here.”

Bile slid up Olivia’s throat. His own father . . . But something in the pit of her stomach told her that wasn’t the end of the story. “What happened then?”

“Then,” he said, looking back up toward the ceiling, “things got ugly.”

The faraway look in his eyes told her he was remembering back, reliving the horror, and she hated that she was bringing it all up for him again, but something inside her sensed this was at the root of who he was. And she wanted him to know that whatever had happened, it didn’t change anything for her.

“What happened, Landon?”

He didn’t look at her, just kept staring up at the ceiling. “We lived in Pennsylvania. A small town outside Pittsburgh. Our trailer was a dump, but my parents owned a couple acres, and there was this big pond I used to swim in during the summer. It was fall. Cold. A little foggy. I ran out of the house and down toward the pond. I knew he’d follow, stumbling and cursing, like always. I knew he wouldn’t be able to see shit in the dark. Knew exactly how the bastard thought. I lured him out there.”

Understanding dawned. He didn’t have to say the words. She knew his father hadn’t bothered anyone after that.

“What happened after?” she asked quietly.

He blew out a long breath. “The police came. My mother told them about the fight, but she lied and said she was the one who’d run out of the house. Said he followed and was so drunk he lost his footing and fell into the pond and then drowned. She lied to keep me out of juvie.”

“She lied because she loved you. There’s a big difference.”

His stormy eyes slowly slid to hers. Pained eyes. Eyes she knew held on to
guilt from way more
than just what had happened to her. “The end result was the same. I killed him.”

“You saved your mother’s life. And yours.”

He closed his eyes. “Olivia—”

“If you’re looking for shock value, you’re talking to the wrong person.” She shifted her weight to her knees on each side of him and braced her hands on the mattress near his head. “I know there are bad people in the world. I know they do awful things. I’ve seen them, remember? I also know those awful people aren’t supposed to be members of your own family.”

“I was twelve, Olivia. What I did . . . The DIA didn’t teach me to do that. That was all me.”

“You’re right. You were twelve. You were just a kid trying to survive. I don’t blame you for that.”

“You would if you knew some of the other things I’ve done.”

“Landon, open your eyes.”

Slowly, he did, and in his stormy, brown eyes she saw exactly what was holding him back. It wasn’t his job or where she lived or the differences between them. It was the fact he didn’t think he was good enough. Not just for her, but for anyone. Himself included.

Her heart swelled. And she knew right then that she loved him. Loved him not because of what he’d done for her, but because of who he was. And everything he’d lived through to get to this point.

“I don’t care about the things you’ve done,” she said softly. “All I care about is what you do now. And the man I know now has absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.”