I’d been keeping tabs on her, but this place was new. She’d deviated.
Ashton was the one who let me know where she was, and it’d not been in our PI’s report, so I wanted to find out for myself what place this was—or whose place this was.
Sitting in my vehicle, parked on the street, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
She was painting. It was an art studio, and it was set up so if an artist was in process, the windows were placed where people on the street could watch. It was set back and off the sidewalk so it wasn’t totally visible to just anyone driving by. But if you were coming specifically for the studio itself, or if you were someone like me, you could sit and watch to your heart’s content.
Her head was down. She had paint covering her hands, her arms, her shoulders. When she turned once, I saw more on her face. She didn’t look outside. I didn’t think she was even aware she was on display, but I was guessing there was music because her head kept swaying from side to side. She dipped her hand into the paint and turned to the canvas, going at it.
She painted with her hands. No brushes. No pencil. No charcoal. Just her hands, and the canvas was set to the side so I couldn’t see the painting itself, but it was taller than her. She stood up on her tiptoes more than once to reach the highest parts of it, and it was set on the floor, so she bent down as well. She disappeared from sight for those moments. A cupboard or table blocked my view.
I wanted to see the painting, enough where I got out of the vehicle and approached the building.
I moved to the side, propped a shoulder against the wall, and turned so I had a view through to her. I still couldn’t see what she was creating, but I could see her.
She was mesmerizing, moving in a rhythm where it was obvious she was in some sort of trance.
I stayed there even when the cold seeped through my jacket and into my bones, deep in my bones, but I still remained. It might’ve been hours. I didn’t know until suddenly, the lights turned off, and I straightened, shaking from how cold it was. I started for my vehicle.
“Last time I saw you, I told you to leave me alone.”
I turned slowly, thinking how her tone matched the weather. Fucking cold.
She was standing outside a back door, in the alley that my back was turned to. One of her feet had the door propped open. She was staring at me.
“You said we were done.”
“What’s the difference?” Her nostrils flared, because she knew there was a difference. “I told you another time to leave me alone too.”
I started for her, going slow. “You said I should leave you alone.”
Should.
I kept going. She wasn’t shutting the door.
Should had a whole different connotation because she was right. I should’ve left her alone, but I hadn’t, and I saw the yearning in her eyes. It was there. She hid it quick, but I still saw it.
I moved, knowing how much of an idiot I was being, but at this point, unless she shut the door in my face, I needed to touch her again.
Her eyes widened, seeing me coming at her, but she didn’t move. She didn’t dart inside, and I was fully aware of the line I was treading here.
Five feet.
She stayed.
Four.
She was still there.
Three.
I could almost touch her.
Two—she moved inside, but I caught the door.
“Tristian—” She backed up.
“Trace.” I moved with her, taking in the room. A small light was on in the corner, enough so I could see my way inside. My hand went to her waist, propelling her backward.
Damn me to hell, but I needed this.
“Wha—” she started to say, her eyes so alive, and a new light had been lit in them.
She’d get angry. It was sparking in her, coming, and my god. I was a damned man because that’s when I knew. Her spirit made my dick twitch. I groaned, my mouth taking hers, hoping she wasn’t going to hit me with a hammer or some other weapon. I let her wrist go because if she did, I’d deserve it, but after a surprised gasp, after a moment where I swear my body sagged in relief at the mere touch of her, the fire swept through both of us.
It lit her, and she became alive. Her mouth opened under mine. The hammer dropped. Her hands were on me, pulling on the back of my head, and she was trying to clamber up.
Finally.
I lifted her at the same time she jumped.
She was yanking at my clothes as I angled my head, my tongue sweeping inside of her, needing to taste her that way, knowing it would be fucking heaven. It was.
I needed more.
She had my shirt halfway up my body, her hands exploring me in return, and I glanced once, making sure the door was shut. She had turned the light off. My god, I needed to have her. I didn’t know if she’d let me taste her again.
I moved down her throat, tasting her as I went, and she arched her neck, her breasts pushed upward toward me. My hand moved down, pushing under her leggings, finding her thong and ignoring that it was even there, and then I found her, and my finger sank in.
Fucking. Goddamn. Heaven.
I hissed at how tight she was, and her legs wrapped tighter around my waist in reaction. She held still, panting in my ear as I worked a second finger inside of her. I went slow at first, drawing it out, and then deeper with each stroke, building pace and tempo.
I knew her. I knew this woman. I knew her body. I didn’t know how, but I did. Other lifetimes maybe. I would’ve believed it if someone told me in that instant because it was like I’d already had lifetimes worshipping her body.
I kept working her, sliding in and out, my thumb moving over her clit. A nice slow circle rub and she was moaning in my arms, barely holding on. Her body fell backward, her head coming to rest against the wall behind, and her eyes opened a little bit, a haze over them as she gaped at me, but I needed more. I reached up with my other hand and tore her shirt apart. Her bra was shoved aside, and I sank my mouth over one of her tits. I needed this taste of her.
I needed to taste every inch of her, but I’d content myself with this touch, for now.
She shuddered in my arms, her hand coming up and clasping onto the back of my head as my teeth grazed over her nipple. My tongue moved around her. I sucked her in, caressing her, but I needed to be inside of her.
Now.
Yesterday.
A year ago.
Her breathing had picked up, she was only holding on to me, and I picked up the pace, feeling the start of her climax coming. It was a little rest, where her body paused for a split second, and she was moaning softly in my ear now. I lifted my head, finding her throat, and then lifting again and finding her mouth. My tongue moved in, claiming her as she went over the edge. Her entire body jerked against me, lifting up off the counter, and she screamed into my mouth.
I swallowed it, catching it and tasting that too.
Feeling her body calming, just enough, I moved back but reached for my wallet.
I held her gaze when I pulled out a condom. She was watching what I was doing, a dark lust coming over her eyes, and she bit her lip. Then she reached for the condom and tore open the wrapper.
I shoved my pants down, my boxer briefs with them, and she was reaching for me.
Goddamn.
I hissed at the touch of her hands circling my dick, and my head fell to her shoulder.
She was working me over, running her hand up and down, her thumb moving over my tip, but I groaned into her ear, “Enough. Put it on.”
A slight chuckle rasped from her throat, but she smoothed the condom over me, using both her hands to smooth it down, and that was all the permission I needed from her. I grabbed her ass, hoisting her up and angling her down for the perfect access. I wasn’t gentle, but she groaned, her eyes closing at how I was handling her, and I moved her legs aside, pushing them open wider, and then I was there.
I sank in, both of us molded to each other at the contact.
I’d been wrong before. This was heaven.
First it was her mouth. Then how she felt on my fingers, but this was the ultimate form of paradise.
I couldn’t hold back any longer.
Her head snapped back, her eyes finding mine, and she growled, “Fuck me, you asshole.”
I moved back and then thrust into her, glaring right back at her because I saw now that this was just as much needed on her end, but she wasn’t happy about it.
Thrust after thrust, I pounded into her. I didn’t look away, and neither did she.
She truly hated me, but there was the same starving look underneath, the one I felt for her too. Haunted. I’d used the word before because it was true. This goddamn fucking obsession was on both accounts, but I was here and I touched her, and she fell apart for me.
I’d do it every time I could. I made the vow to myself, here and now.
Moving forward, every time I could have her, I would.
She arched her back, her clothes had been torn off, and she was naked for my viewing pleasure. Paint covering her, covering me. I drowned in this view, burning into my brain, knowing I’d be envisioning her for the rest of my life.
She reared up, her feet finding the counter beneath her, and I adjusted, stepping back to keep us in contact, but she used the counter to push back against me. She was fucking me as greedily as I was thrusting inside of her.
I was tempted to halt, enjoy her riding me in this new way, but no. The need to dominate was real inside of me, at least with her, and I fell into her body, holding her up with a hand under her back, pushing inside of her over and over again.
Her whole body came apart when she crested, and I waited, holding off until she rode out the waves. Once she was down, I picked her back up, moved, and pushed her against a wall. Her back was to it, her legs wrapped tight around my back, and she was hugging me around my neck. Her front was fully against mine, and I could feel her breasts crushed against my chest. It was the best position. I loved how this one felt, and I groaned, nipping her throat as I pistoned into her, my hands holding both of her ass cheeks until I wanted to get my handprints tatted there.
My own climax ripped through me, and I groaned, feeling my release going through my body too.
It was then that I realized how truly fucked I was, because I would never get this with another woman. No one could make me taste heaven three different times.
I growled, knowing she would hate me after this, and feeling so damned frustrated at the same time because I understood. I got it. I just needed her more.
She let me hold her for another minute before her hands came up to my chest and she shoved me off of her. She dropped down, glaring at me, totally naked. I glanced around, not remembering pulling her leggings off, but she didn’t care.
“What the fuck, Tristian?”
“Trace,” I snapped back.
“What?”
I leaned over her. “I just rode you hard. Goddamn use the name I don’t hate. To you, my name is Trace.”
She backed off, just a little, both physically and emotionally. I saw her take a step back and felt the distance coming back between us. In another minute, I’d feel as if I’d never left my vehicle. She was putting the walls between us, and fast.
“What are you doing here, Trace?” Wariness flashed in her eyes before she began grabbing her clothes.
I righted my own, pulling my shirt back down and drawing up my boxer briefs and pants. My coat . . . I looked around for it, finding it tossed on the floor some distance away. Going, plucking it up, I held it and watched as she found her bra and began clipping it back on. She’d already grabbed her leggings and had them back on.
She lifted her head, a flash of irritation flaring at me from her gaze. “Are you going to answer me?”
She was rattled. It was the only reason why she wasn’t thinking about where I had found her and why she wasn’t demanding to know how I knew she’d be there.
I rolled my shoulders back, throwing up another distraction right now. “There’s a development with your aunt. I thought you might want to know.”
Concern flared next, and she straightened up from finishing dressing, the hand going through her hair falling back to her side. “What is it?”
“They’re in Canada. She’s been set up. A small house. Enough money to get her started. I’ve got her in touch with a program that helps women like her disappear from men like her husband.”
“Okay . . .”
“The drawback is that once the program takes over, my family won’t know where she is anymore. They’re not particularly open to working with people like my family.”
“So why did they?”
“I approached them, explained her situation. They were willing to step in for her but to hide her from us. Before we pull back, I need to know that’s what you want.”
“Yes.” The word rushed out of her, her eyes lighting up. “Yes. That’d be amazing. What’s the name of these people?”
“The 411 Network.”
She stepped back from surprise. “They exist? I thought that was just myth or something.”
I gave a hard nod. “They exist.”
Relief softened her face; her shoulders slackened, too, and then a soft chuckle. “The irony of them hiding my aunt from your family.”
“I’m to take that you approve of this?”
“Yes. I didn’t know they existed, but I’ve heard of them. I’ve wished they would exist, and finding this out now, I feel a lot better. They truly will be hidden then.” She frowned. “How were you able to approach them?”
My gut twisted. “I’d recently worked with them regarding two other individuals. It made them more amenable to me.”
“Two others?”
“I can’t tell you, and it’s not because I don’t want to. It has to do with my family.”
She locked down as I said that, which I knew she would. That was the deal with us. She was law, and I was half and half. I feared the day I would become mostly not.
My whole body locked up as well because I heard what else she wasn’t saying. “They truly will be hidden then.” Even from me. She’d have no more ties to me.
“Thank you, Trace.”
I looked up, surprised at the genuineness in her voice.
But her eyes were flashing hard again. “But I meant it. Stay away from me.”
“You still work for me.”
She had started to turn away but froze before turning back again. “You want me to quit?”
I snorted, shaking my head. “Right. Do you want to quit?”
I was calling her on it, because she wanted this fucking thing between us as much as I did. I, at least, was being honest about it. Maybe if we both gave in, this fucking need would leave.
Her eyes flashed, and she knew what I was calling her on.
“This.” She motioned between the two of us. Her eyes hardening. “It has to stop. My job gives me purpose in life, and you’re eroding that. I can’t change what I’ve already done, but this can’t happen again. It does and I’ll quit Katya. I don’t want to, but I will if I need to.”
She was pulling out every intestine inside of me, one at a time, a slow tug each inch.
But fuck that. I wasn’t going to say the words she wanted to hear.
I started to leave, but I needed to see one more thing.
I hit the light switch by the door, and the entire room lit up.
I saw the painting.
It was me.
