“Are you alright?” Sarah’s soft voice made him turn. She stood there with the blanket wrapped around her breasts. She’d tied it off to the side, and it hung to the floor. Her long hair was tossed around her shoulders, and even in the dim light he could see her lips were still swollen. “I woke up and thought I was lost. That you’d left me.”
His pulse ratcheted up into heart attack territory. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He strode over and took her face in his hands. “I’d never leave you if I didn’t have to.”
“Nate.” She touched a strand of his hair that had fallen forward. “We have to solve the cipher, and I have an idea that could save us both.”
He moved one hand behind her neck and held her still. He kissed her the way he wanted to, the way he’d dream of kissing her once he was in the prison hospital. His lips caressed hers, his tongue demanded entry, and he set a rhythm he wanted her to remember.
“Nate, we—”
He picked her up with one arm around her waist, the other still holding her head for more kisses. It only took him a few steps to press her against the wall near the window seat, his lips on hers. He wanted as much light as he could get without turning on the lamps. Harsh lamplight meant daytime and reality and leavings. Filtered courtyard light meant dreams and promises and stayings.
It was a choice of possibilities instead of inevitabilities.
Just like earlier, he used his physical size to keep her in place. But unlike earlier, she wasn’t undressed completely. He found where the blanket parted and caressed her bare hip. The skin was so smooth it made his own feel rough. His other hand hit the wall for leverage. A few kisses later, he lifted his head. Her eyes were hooded, and her arms wrapped around his neck.
“Sarah, kiss me the way I kissed you.”
She raised herself up on her toes, clutched his shoulders, and took over the kissing. Very quickly, she picked up the rhythm he’d set, with her tongue playing with his. Meanwhile, both of his hands found the insides of her thighs. He trailed his fingers up until they barely met in the center, then down again. She trembled, and her kisses halted. Her breathing was so rapid her breasts threatened to break free from the blanket tucked around her.
His body tightened. Would he ever get enough of her? “Do you want me to continue?”
She nodded.
“Then kiss me.”
She blinked before tightening her arms around his neck and meeting his lips again. Now he used the back of his hands to explore the soft skin of her inner thighs. He brushed up and down. When he was sure she was ready, he lifted his head.
“What are you doing?” she asked harshly.
Her hair hung around her face, a veil of brown silk he wanted to feel spread across his body. He was torn. He was committed to fulfilling this fantasy, yet he wanted to take her to bed so she could ride him until they were both drained.
“You’ll see.” Keeping his gaze on hers, he knelt.
Her eyes widened, and he heard her breath hitch. The blanket was open enough for him to see her soft stomach, her gorgeous legs, and everything in between. He gently spread her legs and lifted one until it draped over his shoulder. He used his palms on the inside of her thighs to keep her still while his thumbs caressed the tender skin.
His lips took over the motion of his hands, and he kissed and nipped his way along both sides. Her soft sounds made him even more confident, and he increased the speed and pressure. When his tongue entered her center, her hands clawed the wall. A guttural cry ripped from her throat. Her hips bucked, and he positioned them at the perfect angle. He licked and suckled and drew her into him. He explored every part of her, using the same rhythm with which he’d kissed her. The same rhythm with which she’d kissed him.
His goal was to bring her to a climax she’d never forget.
No, his real goal was to ensure she’d never forget what they’d shared. He wasn’t a tender lover. He was a selfish bastard. He wasn’t going to let her forget him. He wasn’t going to let her solve that cipher. He was going to leave. And all of it was going to kill him.
But for now, his mouth was fucking her, and she tasted like strawberries. The very fact she was letting him do this made him want to conquer the world and offer it all to her. He felt her body tighten and increased the action and speed until she gripped his head and screamed his name.
When she collapsed, he used his strength to help her sink to the floor. She ended up on his lap, the blanket still tied around her breasts but the rest of her body open to him. She wrapped her arms around his chest and tucked her head beneath his chin. Every breath had a ragged edge, and she shivered.
He shifted until he found the wall and imprisoned her against his heart. His erection jumped beneath her hip, and he ignored the pressure in his balls. The risk to his dick wasn’t as important as the risk to his heart. One of his greatest fears was that once he got back to the prison hospital and they drugged him up, he’d forget everything. He’d forget Sarah.
Closing his eyes, he made a pact with God. He’d do whatever was necessary, including sacrifice his freedom and/or life, to keep her and his men safe. He’d lie, cheat, steal, kill, and die, but he wanted one thing in return: he wanted to remember this moment.
He wanted to remember Sarah forever.
* * *
Sarah trembled with aftershocks and was grateful for Nate’s arms around her. But while he’d more than satisfied her, she could still feel his need beneath her hip. “Nate?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t move.” She untied the blanket and tossed it aside. Moving quickly, she straddled him, his sweatpants the only thing separating them.
He opened his eyes, and she put one finger on his lips. “Shh.” Using her other hand, she gently lowered the waistband of his pants until his erection sprang free. After kissing his jaw, his cheek, and eventually his mouth, she rose and lowered, taking all of him inside her.
His length filled her completely, and she tossed her hair over her shoulders. The curls almost reached her hips. A fire built within her lower stomach, and she ached for his hands around her waist to drive her up and down. Ached for his rough breath on her neck as he pistoned into her. But she had something else in mind.
“Sarah.” Her name edged with his North Carolina drawl sounded like a prayer, maybe even a confession.
She tilted forward, keeping her motions slow and short, rocking more than riding. His breaths turned into short, hot puffs, and when he touched her breasts, she took his hands and placed them on the floor, palms down. Then her fingers traced the random scars on his chest partially hidden by the light hair.
His swallow made his body jump, but she touched his hot skin, feeling his heart bang around. “No.” She nipped his nose. It was her turn to give orders. “Don’t move.”
Braced on his hands, his forearm muscles bulged with the effort to keep his body still while she increased the tempo of her tight rocking movements. The pressure built low in her womb, and she contracted around him. He hissed, “Sarah.”
She gripped his shoulders and lengthened her strokes, desperate for relief. When his hands found her waist to take over the rhythm, she gave in to his strength. His own need for relief apparent from his lifting and slamming her down again, from his deep, guttural growls, from the way he threw back his head and arched his hips. The moment he convulsed and emptied himself, an intense explosion of pleasure left her shaky, breathless, and exhausted.
She fell onto him, barely remembering him kissing her head, picking her up, or tucking her into bed, him around her. The only thing she did remember was wishing they could stay like this forever.
* * *
At four thirty a.m. Sarah double-checked the clock on the microwave. She sat on the apartment floor surrounded by photographs, the ledger, and her journal. Colored pens and note cards were thrown about like jimmies on a cupcake.
She drank her chamomile tea and let the hot water burn her throat. She’d woken half an hour ago with a racing heart and a mind that wouldn’t shut off. She was so overwhelmed with everything that’d happened, she needed time and space alone while Nate slept.
She closed her eyes. No man in her life had ever made her feel as beautiful and sexy and loved as Nate had. She hadn’t known that sex could be so…incredible. Amazing. Sacred. She bit her lower lip. Considering what she’d experienced tonight, she’d been crazy to think she’d known anything about sex.
Yet—and, yes, there was a yet—he’d hardly let her touch him. He probably thought she hadn’t noticed because what they’d experienced had been shattering. But she had. He’d done most of the touching, tasting, and taking, while she’d received the most intense pleasure she’d ever experienced.
How could she have fallen in love with a man who was going to leave her in a day and a half? Her heart broke for both of them, but mostly for Nate. The amount of pain he kept inside was so much larger than the body he inhabited, it amazed her that he could carry it all. Which was why she’d woken up determined to solve the cipher. She was going to use it as leverage against the Prince and Remiel.
It was a dangerous game, and she had to let Hugh Waring know. Not wanting to call this early, she texted him. I’ve decided to solve that cipher. Do you have any other information that could help? Text or call when you get this.
Her phone buzzed with a call from Hugh. She answered, “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“I could ask you the same question.” Hugh’s voice sounded tight and stressed, similar to her father’s when he was on a case.
She also heard ambient noise in the background, including loud male voices. “You’re working at this hour?”
“Yes. Are you sure about this, Sarah? It could get dangerous.”
“I know. I also know a man from Charleston was murdered in a cemetery where I was taking photos yesterday morning.”
“Thank God you’re alright.” Hugh paused. “That murder is my missing persons case. Sheriff Boudreaux has been handling the investigation. I was supposed to be there later today, but I can’t get away. We’re having trouble with the Russian mob. You don’t know Russian, do you?”
“Only Latin, French, Welsh, and Old Gaelic.” She paused for his laugh. “Why are the Russians in Charleston?”
“No idea. I called the hospital to check on your dad. He’s been moved out of the ICU?”
“Yes. They won’t let me see him, but my lawyer is working on it.”
“Who did you retain?”
“Calum Prioleau.”
Hugh whistled. “When you go in, you go big.”
“I’m hoping to see my dad today.”
“Good. Wait. There’s something else.” Papers shuffled in the background. “My MC sent over more paperwork regarding Nate Walker’s prison hospital commitment. A Colonel Jack Keeley accused Walker of the ambush, and Kells Torridan signed the commitment order. According to the prison hospital’s paperwork, Walker is still there.”
She hit her journal with her red pen. “Can you send me the commitment papers?”
“I’ll email them.” Hugh paused for more finger tapping. “How do you know Walker?”
“I need to go, Hugh. Thanks for emailing me those documents. I’ll text as soon as I have info on the cipher. Bye.” She hung up and held the phone to her chest.
A text came in from Hugh. Be careful and keep in touch.
She drew up her legs and rested her head on her knees. Did Nate know about Kells’s and Jack’s betrayals?
“You left the bed.” Nate’s voice drifted over, and she looked up. He wore his sweatpants, and his hair hung loose. He was bare-chested, and she couldn’t help but watch his muscles ripple with each breath in and out.
“I know.” She picked up her tea and waved at the mess. “I couldn’t sleep.”
He squatted and read a few note cards. “What are you doing?”
“Solving the cipher.” His eyes darkened, and she scrambled to stand up. “I have an idea. I tried to tell you earlier, but we got, uh”—she licked her lips because his interest had slipped to her breasts—“distracted.”
He picked up the ledger and flipped through pages. “You can’t solve that cipher.”
“I have to.” She grabbed his wrist. “We have to. It’s the only way to save you.”
“It’s my job to protect you, not the other way around.”
She squeezed his wrist until he put the book down and looked at her. His eyes were weary and bleak. “You’re not going back to that prison hospital.”
“I’m not letting anyone else get hurt.”
She released him. Now they stood a foot apart, her research spread on the floor between them. “You’re a soldier, Nate. You know we have to risk everything if we’re going to save everything. We’re either all in or all out. But we can’t play it safe and try to mitigate the damage at the same time. Those scars on your body, the ones you don’t talk about, are a witness to that truth.”
“You haven’t lost everything, Sarah. You’ve never felt that kind of despair.”
“Haven’t I? I went all in on my research, and people I trusted used it to betray me. I lost my job, my reputation, everything. And what did I do? I came to Savannah to hide. Now my father is paying the price for my cowardice.”
“Are you calling me a coward?”
“No. I’m saying I know what it’s like to feel powerless, like a failure. I know I didn’t suffer the same way you did, but I understand what it’s like to be betrayed and abandoned.” She held up the map he’d brought to the SPO weeks ago. The map that was the reason they’d met in the first place. “I’m not losing you or my father. I’m not going to be afraid anymore.”
“No.” Nate’s nose flared. “Because of my recklessness, my arrogance in thinking I knew what was best, ten of my men were tortured for two fucking years.”
“I know—”
“And now they’re in prison, and one of them has a price on his head because of that cipher.” He took the map from her, folded it up, and shoved it in her straw bag. “We’re not solving this cipher. We’re going to my men, and we’ll come up with a plan together.”
“We can’t trust them.”
“What are you talking about?”
She exhaled and ran her hands through her messy hair. It was a mass of tangles from the top of her head to the curls at the ends. “I had a friend of mine do a background check on you.”
His hands landed on his hips, and he tilted his head. “You did what?”
“Two weeks ago, after you kissed me in the station, I asked Hugh Waring—”
“That detective from Charleston?”
“My father’s old partner, yes.” Nate advanced, and she raised a hand. “Hugh has a military contact who told him something.”
“What? That I’m a murderer? That I planned and executed the Wakhan Corridor Massacre? That I led my men into an ambush? I know the rumors, Sarah. I’m living the nightmare.”
“Did you know that Jack Keeley, your friend who has a price on his head, is the one who accused you of poor decision-making that led to the ambush? That Kells is the witness who signed your prison hospital papers committing you?”
“Bullshit.”
She picked up her phone and showed him Hugh’s email. “It’s true.” She softened her voice as Nate read it. He sat on the couch, one hand behind his neck, the other holding the phone. She knelt and gripped his knee. “I’m sorry, Nate. Kells and Jack betrayed you. Remember the envelope the hooded man gave you? The message inside?”
“Don’t trust Kells Torridan.”
She squeezed his leg. “Now what are we going to do about it?”