Conflicting Interests (14 page)

She reached up and dug her nails into his wrist. He growled,
stopped moving and then smacked her hard across the face. But she was ready to
fight now and she started screeching, pulling from him, letting the hair rip
out as she struggled to get away.

She managed it but he again caught her by the leg, sending
her to the ground. He started yanking her across the abrasive concrete by her
ankles. Her camisole was a tattered mess that did nothing at all to protect her
skin at this point and she could feel her back rolling over small pebbles and
grit from the dirty concrete as he dragged her.

But then she heard it. The sound of heaven. The sound of
safety. The sound of hope. At first the tires screeched slightly as they
rounded one spiral turn after another. It was a long way off yet but the car
was getting closer. If she could just get out from between the row he was
dragging her through… She started kicking, she started clawing, catching her
hand on a tire for a moment before he yanked her past it but then she caught on
the side panel of the car. She reached under, feeling the metal lip, and she
clutched down hard. He tugged against her suddenly immovable weight and he
toppled back.

She rolled to her stomach and then up to her knees, sprinting
out from between the cars. She could hear the sound of his fury in the growl
behind her and it sparked a terror in her gut that forced her legs to pump
harder and faster than she’d have thought possible.

She was not going to die today. Not this fucking day! She
was crying, she was screaming and she was running with the knowledge that her
life absolutely depended on it. And then it was there. Just a compact blue car.
The young man behind the wheel looked startled, his eyes wide and terrified at
the sight of her.

Katrina didn’t waste even one second before she darted to
his passenger door, wrenched it open and slid in next to him. He sat there
stunned as she locked the door.

“Drive!” She yelled at the poor man as though she was
furious with him for not knowing what to do.

He eventually managed to get his foot back on the gas pedal
and she collapsed against the back of the seat. He tried to stop once, asking
if he should call the cops. She screeched at him to drive and wouldn’t let him
stop until they were back out of the parking garage. He pulled over
haphazardly, blocking an alleyway, but the street was busy and she knew she was
safe.

* * * * *

The next couple hours were a blur. There was an ambulance
and there were lights. She was lucid and completely conscious, but her brain
just didn’t want to deal with it. So she closed her eyes and ignored all the
sounds and voices. The hospital was no better. They took pictures and they
patched her up.

The fuckwad had used her left breast as a carving board. The
cuts were shallow and didn’t require stiches—a good amount of liquid adhesive
and a number of butterfly bandages did the trick. Her back was sore, her upper
stomach felt bruised where he’d punched her and her body just ached—but she’d
be damned if she wasn’t alive. She
shouldn’t
be alive.

Detective Smith and Terrell arrived. They had countless
questions but she struggled to pay attention. She recounted the story as best
she could and they eventually shut up. The photographer—the same blonde from
her first trip here—took pictures of her naked chest, her back, her stomach.
And eventually a social worker came in and asked if she wanted to talk. Fuck no
she didn’t want to talk and she’d like nothing better than to stuff a rag down
the social worker’s throat to get her to shut up too.

“Do you have anyone we can call for you?”

Dillon
. “No.” She muttered the word as tears filled
her eyes. “I just want to go home. Can someone just take me home?”

The social worker excused herself and shortly after Smith
and Terrell returned. Terrell offered his arm as she stood. Her body was sore
and she was tired but against all odds she had somehow managed to survive this.
But how many attacks would it take before Mr. Psycho Pants would succeed? She
might just be a bit fucked.

She collapsed on Imogen’s sofa as soon as the detectives
finally left. They scoured the house and the property before they’d leave with
the promise that a patrol car would be circling the block. She was almost too
exhausted to be scared. Almost. But as she looked around Imogen’s large open
living room and listened to the silence surrounding her, her pulse quickened
and the terror set in.

She lay on the couch, trembling and fighting the panic for
some time, when there was a knock on the door. When she peeked through the peephole,
she started sobbing and yanked the door open. He scooped her up in his arms,
closing the door behind him as he moved. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.” He
was moving through the house and her head was buried in his neck, sobbing. He
sat, he held her and he didn’t move. He hushed her quietly and she slowly
drifted to sleep in Dillon’s arms as he cradled her on his lap.

She woke to the sound of movement in the kitchen. She was on
the couch—which was likely a good thing considering it was easy to clean
leather—and she’d not changed clothes. Her clothes were caked in dry blood and
what wasn’t bloody was covered in dirt and grime. When she looked to the
kitchen he was there, watching her. She crawled from the couch and started
moving toward him. Her stomach was fluttering with butterflies and she couldn’t
quite make out his mood.

“Thought we weren’t supposed to see each other.” She was
trying to be funny, likely doing a piss-poor job of it but it was the
intention.

His intense stare was all the response she got.

She rounded the counter to be closer to him and he looked
her up and down. She knew she looked like hell. The cleanest part of her was
the shirt they’d given her at the hospital to replace the camisole that had
been destroyed in the struggle.

“Are we supposed to be doing this?”

She got an answer this time. “No.”

“Then—”

“You could have died.” His expression hadn’t softened an
ounce. He didn’t seem mad, nor happy, just unreadable.

“But I didn’t.”

“You could have.” His voice rose to a demanding volume.
Unreadable had turned to anger in a flash.

“So is that why you’re here? To yell at me?”

His face softened marginally and a subtle humorless smirk
took over his mouth. “No. I intend to make love to you too but I thought I’d
get the yelling out of the way first.”

She gasped even as her body flushed with warmth. “I really
wasn’t trying to upset you.”

“I’ll take that under advisement. But it doesn’t change the
fact you made a stupid decision that nearly cost you your life.”

He might not be yelling but he also wasn’t biting his
tongue. “I’m exceptionally angry, Katrina. You can’t imagine how angry I am.”
He watched her seriously and she stood like a sullen child in front of him.
“I’m also exceptionally relieved. Now you look like you need a shower and I’ve
been waiting to see just how stunning you are under those clothes of yours for
far too long.”

She couldn’t seem to stop gasping at everything the man
said. She’d not thought she’d see him again, certainly not in this context but
here he was standing in front of her, irritated at her stupidity but with her.
He wasn’t pushing her away, he wasn’t telling her what they couldn’t do
together. In fact, quite the opposite—he was giving in and he was making it
clear he intended to.

“Hate to break it to you but what’s under these clothes
isn’t much to see at the moment.” She tried to soften his harsh demeanor but
she was all nerves at the moment.

He chuckled quietly as he took her hand. “Where’s your
shower?” She trembled but she led him upstairs to the spare bedroom with
attached bathroom. Nervous was an understatement. She’d been obsessing about
this for too long and now when she looked like a disaster he was ready. She’d
prefer to be newly plucked, waxed and not have dirt and grime covering ninety
percent of her body—but beggars couldn’t be choosers and all that. And she was
ready too—more than ready.

Her fingers were trembling within his and his body was
pulsing with need. The incredible drive to possess her and have her set in the
moment he heard Stephens utter the words, “She’s going to be fine.” He wasn’t
actually convinced of that until she opened the door and he was able to get his
hands on her but once she was in his arms, he’d decided—reckless as the
decision might be—that he was done staying away.

He sat holding her on the couch in the living room nearly
all night long. He dozed with his forehead resting against hers but he refused
to lay her down or separate himself from her body. When his muscles started to
ache and he couldn’t ignore it any longer, he laid her gently on the sofa,
covered her with a blanket and started the kettle. He needed coffee but while
he found a coffeemaker and the grounds he never did find the coffeepot that
went with it.

Kitty circled his feet as he waited for her to wake and once
he saw her shifting around on the couch, his groin tightened and the possessive
need sank back into his body again. He was furious. Irritation and anger were
roiling under the surface but it was eclipsed so effectively by his lust, need
and absolute relief. He didn’t want to do anything but get his hands on her,
get his mouth on her, get his fucking dick inside her.

Now he was trailing her up the stairs, taking in the dirt
and blood-streaked clothing she was wearing. He wanted her out of them. Just
seeing the blood left his heart pounding and his brain buzzing with terror.

Stephens had sent him a text message once she’d left the
hospital. Stephens knew Terrell well enough to know the man would keep him in
the loop if he asked and Stephens, for some reason Dillon hadn’t yet figured
out, was using that connection for Dillon’s benefit.

One cab ride later and a bit of covert maneuvering to keep
himself hidden from the patrol car that was driving by constantly and he had
her in his arms where he needed her to be.

She didn’t stop trembling and as he reached in and started
the faucet in the massive walk-in shower, she stood by the counter waiting.

“Undress.” He held her eyes as her trembles turned to
violent shakes. Part of him wanted to help her, ease her in some way but part
of him wanted her uncomfortable. He was still angry after all and while he
intended to make sure they both enjoyed this, he still wanted her to understand
just how furious he was. It was an odd combination of need and fury.

She stripped the shirt off over her head. She was braless
and his eyes moved instantly to her breast covered in butterfly bandages.
Dillon was lacking on the details and while he knew she’d been choked, had some
minor cuts, scuffs and bruises, he’d not quite imagined this.

What he saw was done quite intentionally. There was nothing
haphazard about it. The straight precise lines could have been made with a
scalpel and as he took in the damage, swallowing became painful and his throat
constricted. Her eyes wouldn’t meet his and she stared at his chest.

“How did that happen?” His voice was lurching as he spoke.
She had exceptionally beautiful breasts with small pink nipples and he wanted
to be focusing on only that but the red slashes across her skin were impossible
to ignore.

“He cut me with something. I’m not sure what. The doctor
literally glued the skin back together. Kinda wild.” She laughed but it was
nervous and he swore her eyes filled with tears even as she laughed. He caved
in and walked to her, pulling her into his arms.

“I really am incredibly angry with you.” She nodded against
his chest. “If you’re ever so careless with your life again, I promise you I’m
going to yell but right now I just can’t.”

He leaned to her neck and kissed her as his hands traveled
down to the waist of her jeans. He undid the button and lowered the zipper as
her stomach muscles twitched and trembled beneath his knuckles. He could see
the large scuff that ran up her shoulder in the mirror behind her and her lower
back look bruised and scraped. When he pushed her jeans down her hips and let
them drop, he nearly choked at the sight of her bottom.

It was pristine and beautiful. She had an incredibly small
waist and a lovely round bottom that was perfectly toned. Her skin was milky-smooth
and pale and his cock was flexing and fighting to get free. There was nothing
more stunning than the sight of her. His hands held her still at her waist and
he just stared. He’d assumed she had a nice figure but it was something else
finally getting her out of her clothes and seeing just how incredible her pale
smooth skin and perfectly curved figure was.

“Get in.” It was little more than a whisper when he spoke
and she walked from him to the enclosure. He undressed quickly and when he
entered after her, she was standing under the large showerhead with her face
angled up to the water and her eyes closed. She ran her hands through her hair
and he stood against the far wall with his arms crossed simply watching.

His gaze found her sex. He’d not gotten his eyes on that
part of her yet and he was just as captured by the sight of the small lips of
her sex as he’d been by the sight of her ass. She kept herself completely
shaved and it left nothing to the imagination, except perhaps what the silken
skin between those lips would feel like and taste like.

She caught him staring and her pale cheeks blushed crimson
as his eyes met hers. But then her gaze started traveling every inch of his
body and her mouth fell open. He let her study him and he could feel his cock
twitching against his stomach. He stroked the length of his erection, knowing
full well she was watching. He wasn’t necessarily trying to shock her but he
needed the touch. He needed
her
touch but he was willing to settle for
his own until she was ready.

He walked to her and leaned down to kiss her mouth. She
reached for his dick and he let her touch him this time. She squeezed the shaft
gently and he groaned into her mouth.

“Turn around.” He said the words while he still had the
strength to. One more moment of her touch and he might lose his ability to
speak altogether. She released him from her grasp and turned slowly around.

He pulled her hair over the side of her shoulder and let his
mouth wander down over her good shoulder. Her other shoulder looked painful and
he soaped the washcloth he’d grabbed on his way in and gently ran the rag over
the scraped and angry skin. She hissed and pulled forward for a moment but sank
back as she adjusted to the touch. He moved over the rest of her skin, gently
washing the dirt and grime from her skin.

He moved the washcloth over her bottom, wanting to make the
material disappear so he could touch her skin and when he kneeled behind her he
moved the washcloth down her legs but he kept his eyes glued to her bottom. He
leaned forward and kissed gently over the pale skin of her cheeks and she
moaned quietly. He ended up abandoning the washcloth at her feet and moving his
mouth up to her lower back as he knelt up behind her and pulled her body into
his with a hand covering each hipbone.

His chest was to her bottom and he took his time kissing
along her back as his hands toyed with her hipbones. By the time he’d made it
back up to standing, his body completely covered her backside and he’d
forgotten all about the washcloth now sitting on the floor. He turned her
around and pushed her body back to the wall behind her and after finding her
mouth and thrusting his tongue between her lips for long enough to leave them
both panting, he snatched the forgotten washcloth from the floor and started at
her neck.

Her neck looked red where she’d been choked yet again and he
was careful as he ran the rag down the line of her neck to her breast. When he
traveled lower to her stomach, her muscles danced and twitched under his hand.

He didn’t delve between the lips of her sex when he cupped
her with the washcloth between her legs. Instead he moved quickly down to the
front of her legs before he could get too caught up with her pussy. She washed
her hair quickly as he ran the washrag over his body while she watched and when
they were finally done there was gritted dirt circling the drain but she was
clean and he was so overly desperate for her that he was damn near going insane
with lust.

She followed him to the bedroom once they were both dried
and he sat on the edge of her king-sized bed. For a spare room it was a bit
ridiculous. It was large with exceptionally high ceilings, a large balcony and
an amazing view of Lake Washington. She watched him intently, trying to decide
what to do. He could see the nervousness in her expression and he thought it
was the least she deserved for putting herself in danger and worrying the hell
out of him.

“What do you want me to do?” He almost melted at the
insecurity in her voice. Katrina was quirky but she was also a bit bold when
she wanted to be. She usually called it like she saw it and asked the questions
she wanted to ask but right now she just looked terrified. Her nervousness was
the only punishment he had for her behavior and he was going to enjoy it
immensely.

“I want to see you on your hands and knees—if you’re
comfortable enough for the position.”

“What? Why?”

He smiled gently at her and she blushed. That alone made his
cock pulse. “I want to see all of you. I want to touch all of you. I want to
spread your lips open, kiss your pussy, taste you. I want every inch of your
body visible.” She shuddered at the sound of his voice or perhaps it was the
words he was saying. When she said okay, his cock didn’t just pulse—it jumped.

“Where?” It was her quiet, unsure voice. He was learning to
love that one.

“On the bed. Facing away from me.” She sat on the bed beside
him and he pulled her mouth to his. Her lips trembled as he kissed her. She
left him feeling like he was going crazy in the best possible way and when she
moved into position, showing her backside to him first before bending over and
exposing it all to him, he groaned.

There wasn’t anything he wanted to see that he couldn’t.
“Can you put your chest to the bed without hurting yourself?” She started
dropping her chest down. “Now keep your bottom up. Very nice.” It was more than
nice. Her lowered chest pushed the angle of her ass up just that much higher
and opened the cheeks of her bottom to his view even more.

He brushed the back of his knuckles down the plump little
lips at the junction of her thighs and she whimpered. The muscles running up
the back of her thighs tightened up to her bottom and he couldn’t help but
moan. He used his first and second fingers of one hand to spread her lips open.
She was glistening and pink and he inhaled a ragged breath as visions of his
cock pushing deep into her started attacking his arousal.