Embrace The Night (26 page)

Simon gestured at the computer with his foot. “Anything?” He wondered if she’d responded to Theo’s message. Or if she’d received any other ones.

“Yes.” Sage looked meaningfully at him, and his curiosity was piqued by the excitement in her eyes. She had news. Then she pulled the towel from her hair, and it fell in bright, damp waves over her shoulders. “Let’s get in bed.”

His heart stopped.

Fuck,
vato,
be a man. You’ve faced a lot worse.

Simon sat at the opposite edge of the bed, fully, wholly, agonizingly aware of the camera watching every move they made, and pulled off his hiking boots and socks. Then his shirt. Followed by the worn jeans that were going to need a wash pretty soon.

The bed shifted behind him as she crawled under the covers. He hoped like hell she had something on underneath that damn towel. Simon stood and went over to pull the heavy curtains closed, blocking out much of the sun.

Then, taking a deep breath, wishing he could be anywhere but here, Simon lifted the covers and slid beneath them.

He rolled toward the center of the bed and found Sage lying there on her side, facing him. Her wet hair trailed over her pillow and down into the crevice next to his.

“Everything okay?” she asked. Her breath was soft and minty and Simon found himself hypnotized by that lovely little freckle, now crushed into a crease in her lips because she lay on her side.

“Yes. What’s up?” he asked, low. This was good…they would look as if they were having a little pillow talk, maybe even a bit of foreplay, and she could bring him up to speed.

Damn
. She smelled good too. Same shampoo and soap he used, but it smelled so much better on her.

“Someone gave me this today. Do you know what it is?”

Beneath the covers, she reached toward him. He moved swiftly to connect with her hand, and took the object she offered. It felt like a stiff credit card, but when he glanced down at it he recognized as an employee ID. For Remington Truth, when he was at the National Security Administration.

“Where did you get this?”

Sage explained about the woman who’d shown it to her, and how a younger woman and man had visited Falling Creek four years earlier and left it behind. In turn, he told her what the object was, adding, “This is a very personal object that had to have belonged to him. Which means that the woman and man must have gotten it from Remington Truth—either voluntarily or involuntarily.”

“So this is our best clue so far?” she said, eyes wide and beautiful.

“I’d say. It’s like part of his personal effects, something that either he or someone close to him would have kept.”

“I sent a message to Lou about Redlow, to see if he and Theo knew anything about it. Maybe we can go there next and try to find this woman.”

“But you don’t know anything about what she looks like except her hair color and age.”

“And that she was reading
The Count of Monte Cristo
,” Sage added, her crinkled lips smiling. “It’s the best we have for now.”

He nodded, realizing that through this entire conversation they’d moved closer to each other. And now he felt the warmth of her newly showered skin beneath the blankets and realized he still didn’t know if she was wearing anything. Or not.

He looked up from the employee ID he’d been examining—hell, to be honest, he’d been hiding by looking at it—and found himself caught by Sage’s gaze. As before, he was struck by the unusual color of her eyes. More aqua than sapphire, almost a sea green–blue. With long dark-brown lashes tipped in blond and not a swipe of eyeliner or glitter of eye shadow in sight.

“Did you hear from Theo?” he said, forcing the words out, using them as a much-needed barrier. His heart had begun to pound erratically.

Sage’s eyelids fluttered and he felt her subtle drawback. “No.”

“He’s in love with you, Sage,” he forced himself to say in a voice low and dark. Build that barrier. Set her back. Make Dragon Boy the elephant in the room. Or, better yet, the elephant in the
bed
. Right the hell between them.

Again her lids fluttered, and he swore her mouth tightened a bit. “I know. But I—”

“Sage, let’s get this over with,” he said quickly, forcing the words out. “Okay?”

And before she could respond, he did what he did yesterday—he lifted himself quickly, but very gingerly, and straddled her slender body beneath the sheets.

Settling himself over her, careful not to touch any skin, definitely not to let her feel the erection straining his briefs…fighting to ignore the warmth emanating from beneath him…oh so close…Simon tucked his head into the pillow next to her and began to move. Counting. Praying. Imagining a gun barrel pressed to the back of his skull.

But this time…this time, his face was buried in damp, sweet-scented hair, next to warm skin. And this time, he knew how those lips just beyond his jaw tasted. And how smooth was the cheek against his hair. And the blood pounded through his body, and she was so damn close…Simon squeezed his eyes closed, buried his face in a pillow that fucking
smelled
like her, and kept his mind blank.

And then, as he was just about ready to pull away, she arched her torso up beneath him, meeting one of his false thrusts. The contact with skin and warmth shocked him, and he faltered, realizing that, thank God, there was cotton at least, between them…but he was all too aware of the swell of her breasts against his bare chest and the movement of her hands, her body, sliding against his rigid one.

The next thing he knew, she was kissing his neck and jaw, tugging at him, pulling him closer until his trembling arms gave out and he collapsed to the side.

Taking her with him.

She found his mouth, or he found hers—he wasn’t certain which—and their lips melded, fitting together fiercely. Then he couldn’t stop, couldn’t keep the soft groan of surrender from the back of his throat as her mouth opened beneath his.

Sweet, slick and hot and deep…she tasted like mint and warmth and comfort, and he felt her body, now aligned next to his, her leg sliding along his thigh, one hand on his shoulder, smoothing along his arm. Her hair plastered to his face and the hand that had reached up to brush it away, and she gave a quiet little moan as his tongue thrust deep and long.

Thank God she still wore something—a tank top and panties from what he could tell—but it provided little barrier and Simon couldn’t keep his hands from sliding up beneath that stretchy top, over warm, taut skin and curling around her slender rib cage. Her breasts pressed into his chest, and he held on to her sides, trying to focus, to keep some semblance of control, knowing that this had to stop…
soon.

But, just a little longer. Just…a little…

Her fingers combed into his hair, pulling it loose. “I’ve been wanting to do that,” she whispered against his jaw, her warm mouth nibbling there and to his ear. “You have such beautiful hair.” Her small hands moved over his head, warm and confident, sliding through his loosened queue and down over his shoulders.

“Sage,” he murmured. “We…this isn’t…” But the words evaporated when she lifted her face to kiss him again, and he took her mouth, and swiping long and deep, she smoothed her hands down over his shoulders to flatten them over his chest.

Their noses bumped and lips and tongues slid as he bent forward again, no longer able to fathom stopping, sooner or later. He filled his hands with her—her hips, her rear, her slender shoulders, and down to those beautiful breasts…now bare as he pulled her tank up and snapped it to the floor.

Heaven help me.

He bent beneath the sheets, somehow having the wherewithal to keep them in place and hide her from the camera even as he kissed one pretty pink nipple. Dusky with freckles, giving her skin a peachy glow, she was lush and curvy and when he drew the sensitive point into his mouth, gently, tenderly, she tightened and shivered beneath him.

He tasted her, using his tongue to flick lazily over her, she sighed and shifted and he felt a greater surge of desire, wanting to make her cry out and writhe with pleasure even more. Her eyes had closed and Simon watched her face, chin lifted, full, puffy lips parted as she sighed and shifted beneath his mouth.

“Simon,” she breathed blindly at the ceiling, her hips twitching next to him as if she didn’t know what she wanted.

He was out of breath himself, painfully hard and ready, yet unable to stop from kissing and touching, stroking and coaxing. He took his time, languorous and thorough, knowing in the recesses of his mind that this was an anomaly, that she wasn’t ready for this and that there’d be a time when he’d have to stop…but not yet.

Not until…
ah
. She arched toward him, her hand sliding down his belly. His skin leapt and jumped beneath her fingers—fingers that seemed to know exactly where they were going, what they wanted…and unaware that they weren’t about to get there.

Simon moved sleekly, shifting a bit so that he pressed her back into the bed, bending over her torso with his to cover her mouth once more, keeping his own straining equipment out of reach.
No, my dear.
And as he rose up over her, face angled above face, propped on an elbow, he slipped his other hand down, down over her belly, over the sensitive, trembling skin, beneath a bit of cotton, down to the warm nestle of the place he wanted to be…the current center of his world…and found what he was looking for.

Sage’s eyes flew open when he slipped into her moist warmth, his fingers gentle and instantly slick. “Oh,” she gasped, and he smiled against her luscious mouth, concentrating on the wonder in her eyes and the taste of her.

His fingers stroked and slid, slipped and entered and fluttered and tickled against her until she writhed and gasped beneath them. He watched the pleasure settle across her face, as her cheeks flushed and her body tightened and stretched and he felt her orgasm begin, rise…and then crest with a low erotic moan that nearly set him over the edge.

Overwhelmed with her scent, sounds, taste, warmth, Simon gritted his teeth, closed his eyes as she shuddered and trembled beneath him. He rested his forehead against hers, feeling the brush of her fluttering lashes and the warm puff of breath against his face.

His body pounded so hard, and before she even opened her eyes, he fell back from where he’d hovered over her, flat on his back, breathing as if he’d run a marathon. He was in pain, pulsating pain, but at the same time, rampant with exhilaration and deep pleasure. His fingers trembled and his mouth felt full and hot, and he could still taste her on his lips…but it was over.

“Simon.”

The breath of his name had him turning to look at her. Once again, there she was…close, too close, temptation and heaven rolled into one package of blue eyes and creamy skin, tousled peachy hair and lush red mouth. But this time, her lips were swollen and crinkled, and her eyes were lidded heavily—filled with knowledge and awareness. And something else he dared not try to define.

“Yes?” he managed to say without sounding like he was dying.

“Is that…I mean,” she closed her eyes, swallowed, caught her breath, and, reopening them, said, “Wow. Simon…I…my God, Simon…” It all came out on low, husky breaths.

She was babbling and if he hadn’t been in so much discomfort, so intent on keeping himself rigid and separate, he might have chuckled. Sage never babbled. But he didn’t allow himself even a smile, for that little bit of softening could lead to more.

“Thank you,” she managed. And then she moved, reaching for him and he had to react quickly to grab her wrist before she could touch him.
No. No, we don’t need that.

Her eyes darkened in confusion, and he squeezed her wrist. “It’s fine. Just…that’s enough.”

“But…”

He shook his head sharply, knowing that the expression on his face was bordering on forbidding, but what else could he do?

“Don’t you need to—well, it has to look like we, uh—”

He couldn’t hold back a short laugh—half in frustration, half in amusement. “I think that what they saw will suffice just fine,” he said in his low, strained voice. “Now, please. Remember there is a man back in Envy who loves you, Sage.”

This time, he hardened his tone, keeping it quiet, but looking at her straight in the eyes. “Theo is waiting for you. And I promised him I’d bring you back. Whole. And safe.” There was that wall again.

Where the hell had it been five minutes ago?

She stared at him, and he saw a myriad of emotions flash through her eyes. Her mouth tightened, her chin, even on its side, lifted in stubbornness. “That’s fine. I love being treated like a damn doll that has to be protected and accounted for,” she said in a louder voice than she should have. It sounded as if it were about to crack. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you keep bringing him up like some sort of damn talisman.” She blinked rapidly.

“Sage—” What the hell could he say? He sure as fuck couldn’t tell her that if he had his way, he’d tell her to forget about Dragon Boy and run off with him…even though he already knew he couldn’t run off with anyone. Even Sage.

Then suddenly, she flung the covers back with a great, chilly
whoosh
, leaving him half covered. Simon gaped as she stalked across the room to the bathroom, completely naked, in all peachy-skinned, curvaceous glory, bouncing and swaying and with a toss of her hair.

She didn’t slam the door, but she might as well have.

The short, sharp click said it all.

It was just as well that Sage didn’t see Simon for the rest of the day.

As it was, by the time she sat down next to him at dinner, she’d worked herself into a ball of nerves. After what had happened in their room, beneath those hot sheets, she took care not to do as much as brush against him. For fear she might send him scuttling off in terror.

Because she’d finally realized what it was that shone in his eyes when he looked at her. Fear. Bald-faced, flat-out fear.

And she didn’t quite understand why.

“When will the Strangers arrive?” he asked, leaning toward her, bringing with him what had become a familiar feeling…his warmth, proximity, and subtle masculine scent, all wrapped up in one package. He’d pulled his hair back into its short club, sleek and dark—but that didn’t keep her from remembering how thick and heavy and sexy it had looked, falling in his face and over her hands.