Stolen: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (22 page)

“Just keep looking at me.”

As she watched him, he slowly pushed inside.

Her eyes darkened almost to black …

But they stayed locked on his. That was all Elliot
needed to see. A slow flush crept up her neck, her face, staining her cheeks a light pink as he eased deeper, deeper into her body. Tight, so fucking tight. She gripped him like a fist. And all the while, she watched him, as if nothing else existed. Under his fingers, her skin felt soft as silk, and her slight, lean body felt both fragile and strong against his.

She caught her breath and he shuddered as she shifted, moving against him. It had her tightening around him and it was just too much—she was so fucking tight already. He groaned and released one hip, resting his hand on the couch next to her, gripping the fabric desperately.
Breathe … just breathe
 … he told himself.

When she wiggled again, he slid deeper, and he had to bite back a curse as she tightened. Withdrawing, he sucked in a desperate breath. There were stars dancing in front of his eyes—he could practically count them.

“You okay?”

He smiled down at her. “Never better.” It was both the biggest lie he’d ever told and the most honest he’d ever been. It was possible to be in both the most excruciating pain and to experience the sweetest pleasure, all at once. And right now, he was there. Trapped right there on the razor’s edge of pain and pleasure, and Shay was asking him if he was okay.

Stroking a hand up her back, he twined his fingers in her hair and leaned in, pressing his lips to one eye, then the other. Each cheekbone. The scars along the side of her face. Then her mouth. And with each brush of his lips, he worked deeper into her body. Fighting against that delicious, and deadly, tight embrace. It drove him insane the way she kept wiggling against him, trying to adjust to him.

Easier, he thought, to do it this way.

Then, he was buried inside her, so deep inside, he thought he just might be able to feel her heart beat. So
deep inside her, he could feel her in his soul. But then again, she’d been there for quite a long while already.

Lifting his head, he stared down at her and asked, “What about you … are you okay?”

The black fringe of her lashes swept down, shielding her eyes. And there was a Mona Lisa smile on her lips … one that set his blood to burning, just to see it. “Oh, never better,” she murmured, her voice barely above a purr. “Never better.”

Then she arched her neck back and rocked against him. The action lifted her breasts and he caught sight of the scars again—it was a hot, dangerous punch, and the grip he had on her hips tightened. Dipping his head, he buried his face against her neck as he started to pump within her.
Not here … not now …

It was nothing like she’d imagined. And yet, it was everything. She really could experience that pleasure, and she really could experience that connection. And when he took her, he made all those silly things she’d read about in romance novels seem not so silly. But then again, Elliot had always been like that … he’d always made her heart race, had always made her breath catch … and when he looked at her, he made her feel incredibly beautiful, despite her scars, despite her flaws.

Right now, as he stroked inside her, she felt no fear. It was a miracle. His big hands stroked over her body and there was no sign that her scars bothered him. It was amazing. When he tilted her head back and kissed her yet again, Shay could have cried, it was so amazing. Then he cupped one breast in his hand and dipped his head, catching her nipple between his teeth to give it a gentle tug and she heard somebody shriek—it was her own voice. Hot, fiery pleasure bolted through her, from her breasts straight down to her core, and she arched against him. It drove him deeper inside her, changing
the angle so that he hit a certain spot. Shay knew all about that spot, but it wasn’t anything she’d ever tried to experience on her own. For a second, she froze. Every muscle in her body tensed and she felt herself clamping tight around him.

Elliot gave a ragged groan and she stared at him. Gold eyes locked on her own. “Shay …?”

With a whimper, she moved—it was the slightest movement. She needed to feel that again … 
oh
.

Just … oh.

She cried out. Gripping his hips with her knees, she started to move, slowly at first, then harder. Again—again. Each time, it had the head of his cock brushing just there and it was more than she could take, more pleasure than she knew how to handle. She fought to balance her body, but then his hands were there, gripping her butt and steadying her weight as she rode him. The climax hit her and it was every damn thing she’d never even thought to hope for.

Elliot rasped out her name, but she barely heard him over her own broken moan. The pleasure exploded through her, shattering her … completing her.

When she could think again, Shay realized they were lying on the couch. Or rather, Elliot was. She was lying on him. The fire had warmed the room, which was good, because she was a little bit chilly in the spots where his body wasn’t touching her. Sweat was drying on her skin, and she could smell the scent of him on her.

His fingers combed through her hair and she lay there for a moment, just enjoying it.

Eyes closed, smiling, and just … enjoying.

“I think I might be able to move sometime in the next century,” Elliot said softly. “Hope that’s soon enough.”

“Hmmmm.” Shay stretched and smiled when she felt the length of him against her belly. He was already hard
again. How about that … hard, already, and she liked it. She was actually kind of excited about that. “I don’t think it
is
soon enough. I think I’d like to do that again. Is that okay?”

“I don’t know. I need to think about it.” He was quiet for a beat of two seconds. Then he said, “I’ve thought about it. It sounds good to me.”

Shay giggled and lifted her head, staring down at him. “I’m questioning my sanity, you know. I don’t know why I was so nervous about this. I shouldn’t have been.”

“You’re too hard on yourself.” He stared at her, a dark, brooding look on his face. The burnished auburn of his hair framed his face and his golden eyes looked even more intense in the flickering firelight. He lifted a hand and traced the top edge of one of her scars. “I knew something bad had happened to you, Shay.” Through his lashes, he shot her a quick look and then lowered his gaze again. “I just knew. But I didn’t know …”

She closed a hand around his wrist. “I’m glad you didn’t know. You really think I
want
people knowing it was something that bad, Elliot? I have a hard enough time living with the knowledge on my own. I don’t want others having that in their head.”

“I’m not others.” He left off tracing the scars to reach up and cup her cheek. “You know that, right? You’re more to me than just … this. I’m serious about you and I have been from the beginning. Whatever is happening here, it’s not casual for me. It never was.”

She blushed, averting her eyes. “Yeah. I know that.” Scowling, she shot him a sidelong look. “You know, in theory, it’s supposed to be the guy who has trouble talking about his feelings … not the girl.”

“Well, in theory, lots of things are true. We’re not theories … we’re people.” He hooked a hand over the back of her head and tugged her closer.

Shay went willingly, cuddling against his chest and smiling as he kissed her. “It’s not casual for me, either. It never was. If it was casual, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“I know.” He had his other hand resting low on her spine, doing things that made it hard for her to concentrate on the conversation. “Since it’s not casual, I guess you probably realize that it makes sense that I know certain things … right?”

Shay made a face at him. “Things, yes. The ugliest shit in my head … no. The nightmares? That’s not so easy to share.”

“I could share mine,” he offered.

She cocked a brow. “What kind of nightmares and shames do you have?”

Elliot’s face darkened. “There are things. Things I’d rather never talk about but they are there. We’ll talk about them, if you want to. But my screw-ups are mine—messes I landed in. What happened to you—Shay, this was
done
to you. My fuck-ups happened because of bad choices for the most part, or accidents. But what happened to you …”

“Yeah.” She wiggled around until she was wedged into the small area between his body and the back of the couch. Staring at the fireplace, she said, “I get that. I really do. But there’s no denying I’ve got issues, Elliot. I’m going to have them all of my life, and anybody who wants to be a part of my life needs to be aware of it.”

She slanted a look at him. “Obviously you’re aware and you’re just too stupid to care how much this fucks up my head.”

“You’re not fucked up.” Poking her in the ribs, he settled around on the couch a little more and then propped his head on his hand. “You’re looking comfortable there. Does that mean you’re not jumping me again?”

“Did I jump you?” She grinned at him.

“Just about. I think I’ve got scratch marks on my shoulders. I loved every second.”

Still grinning, Shay said, “I don’t think scratch marks count as jumping. But maybe it’s a starting point. I think I’ll work my way up to jumping you. It could be fun.”

“Well, you already had your way with me …”

Then the phone rang. Once more, the outside world shattered Shay’s peace.

The events of the past few days had her scrambling off the couch, even though she doubted it was either of the people she wanted to reach.

For once, she was wrong.

Or almost. It wasn’t her agent, and it wasn’t her editor—but it
was
the assistant editor.

TWELVE

T
WO MINUTES INTO THE CONVERSATION, SHE WASN
’
T
entirely certain this was going to be much help.

“Hmmm … well, this is strange. But you’re certain it’s not your page. You have an assistant, after all. This isn’t something she set up for you?”

Distantly aware of Elliot’s gaze, Shay stopped in midstep and lowered the phone, staring at it.
Did I fall into the twilight zone?

Once she’d managed to snap her jaw shut, she lifted the phone back to her ear and managed to snap, “Yes. I’m pretty damn sure it’s not my page. If it was
my
page, I wouldn’t have sent about a dozen emails to you guys over this, now would I?”

“Okay … just bear with me. I want to help, Shay, really.”

You want to help. Then tell me you can get the damn page down
, she thought sourly.

“If you’re certain your assistant didn’t set it up, do you have any idea who might have done it?”

Shay had to bite her lip, because she couldn’t
say
she was certain Darcy hadn’t done it. The problem was Darcy hadn’t done it with her authorization and if Darcy was doing it, she was
pretending
to be her, damn it.

Once more, Shay found herself thinking,
Darcy, is it you …?

“No, Julie. I don’t know who is doing it. I just know I want it down.”

“I understand. You know Maurice is still out for a few weeks with his wife and the new baby, but we’ll get to work on this and see what we can find out,” Julie said. “I’ll look around, see if I can find out more information, and I’ll speak with the legal department. If the page is a fraud, I’m certain Facebook will take action. I’ll be in touch.”

Then she was gone.

Shay was left there, holding the phone and listening to dead air.

Frowning, she lowered it, staring at the handset. “If.” Narrowing her eyes, she tossed the phone onto the couch and started to pace. “If the page is a fraud.”

“What do you mean … 
if
?”

Turning around, Shay stared at Elliot and said softly, “That’s how she said it.
If
that page is a fraud. I don’t get it. Why would she phrase it that way? I’d know if it was my page, right? So if I’m telling her it’s
not
 …”

That tension continued to churn in her gut and she groaned, dropping to the window seat.

“I take it that didn’t go exactly as planned.” He settled down next to her.

“Elliot, my
life
hasn’t gone exactly as planned in so many months … hell, longer.” Then she made a face and glanced at him. “Well, to be honest, my life was never really planned anyway, but every once in a while, would it really be so bad not to have a huge wrench thrown into things when I’m finally coasting by? Is that too much to ask?”

“You managed to go awhile with me without a wrench,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

“True.” She pursed her lips, studying the flames of the
fire as they danced. “Then I just turned myself into a wrench, remember.”

Huffing out a soft breath, she eased away from him and swiped her hands down her pants. She’d tugged them on in the middle of the phone call—she just couldn’t have that conversation naked. Too bad it hadn’t helped. She swallowed as she tried to figure out where to go from here, tried to pretend she wasn’t as nervous as she felt. Nobody needed to know she was scared, after all. She’d lived with fear all of her life, and other than Virna … and Elliot, most people hadn’t ever realized it. No reason for that to change now.