In the Air Tonight (27 page)

“Toby gave me some sample ointment,” she told
him, dug in her jeans pocket for the packets the tattoo artist had given her.

“He was flirting with you the whole time. Annoyed the shit out of me,” he muttered as he followed her into the bathroom, where she stripped off her sweater and he began to peel the black-backed bandage off.

“You scared him.”

“Good. I meant to.” He examined the tattoo. “Looks good.”

She looked over her shoulder at it once again.

“I like it—it honors Delta. And Gray,” she said of the special symbol Mace had drawn for her and the artist had copied, resisting the suddenly strong urge to touch Mace—really touch him, not to read him but to strip him out of his clothes. It had to be the wine. And the tattoo. “It makes me feel like one of you, makes me feel invincible.”

“You are one of us,” Mace told her, without adding that none of them were invincible at all—something she appreciated.

“I’m sorry, Mace. I’ve been so—”

“You’ve been fine. I haven’t exactly been an angel. I guess we’re both pretty scarred.” His eyes flashed and the double meaning wasn’t lost on her.

She turned and found herself face-to-face with him. Couldn’t resist going up on tiptoes to kiss him. He obviously had the same idea because he’d bent his head to her—his lips pressed hers in a strong kiss, full of longing.

Her hands fisted against his jeans and she pulled his hips to hers. He pressed against her too, and for a few minutes, they were molded to each other, their kisses heating her to a frenzied level.

She’d wanted to kiss him like this all night long. Judging by the way his arousal pressed her belly, he felt the same, but he pulled away, put his forehead against hers.

“Let’s finish up here first,” he said. “And then …”

And then …

She stepped back and turned to face the mirror again, letting him wash the fresh ink and then put on a thin layer of the ointment.

“It’s pretty red,” Mace commented.

“It’s always like that. By morning, it’ll look better. It’s just … raw.”

“Yeah, raw,” he murmured as he ran a finger over her bare shoulder, staring at the ink. “Damn, it looks good on you, though. Sexy as hell.”

His mouth went to where his finger had just traced along her shoulder and she shuddered as he nipped her skin and then licked up the side of her neck.

It was primal. Predatory. And really, really hot. When he lifted his head and gazed at her in the mirror, it was the same look he’d given her that first night, a cross between total distrust and a more than grudging respectful acknowledgment that she was the sister of his best friend.

He was as torn about dealing with her as she was with him, and because of that, he pushed forward.

“When I saw you …” he began.

“Which time?”

“Both times,” he clarified. “I wanted you to get the hell away from me. And I wanted you to come closer.”

“I wanted the same thing.”

“And now?”

“I’ve stopped wanting to run,” she said, and he smiled—a smile she’d really started to love. She went to wrap her arms around him—glanced at her hands and saw that she’d kept them fisted.

“I’m sorry. I’m not ready …” she started.

“Me either,” he said bluntly. “There are things neither of us need exposed right now.”

“I don’t want to be scared of you, Mace. Or of what I might see if I touch you.”

“I know that.” His voice was gruff but he didn’t seem angry about it. “I don’t want you to touch me tonight, not like this. There’s too much out there to figure out. Too much shit between us. I don’t want to add to your burden—I want to take some of it away.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s important to me. Because you’re beginning to matter to me as more than just Gray’s sister, okay?” He seemed genuinely confused about that. “I didn’t expect it to happen. Didn’t necessarily want it to. But it has. So can you just let me make you feel really damned good?”

She smirked at his tone. “I can do that.”

“Good. Finally.”

He picked her up, slung her over his shoulder caveman-style and walked to the bed while she giggled uncontrollably. Giggled.

God, how long had it been?

She was enveloped in the warmth of his body on the bed in seconds. He smelled so good—like soap and man and sex … hot, dirty sex.

“Love hearing you laugh,” he murmured against her cheek, his body covering hers.

“We should both laugh more.”

“Let’s work on that,” he agreed. “Although right now, I’d like to hear those pretty moans you make when you’re coming.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words.

“I fucking love making you blush like that.” He stripped her tank top and she stretched her hands over her head, grabbed the metal headboard rod and waited. Watched as he retrieved two of his own shirts from his bag and bound her wrists to the slats, and for a second she felt very much like a sacrificial lamb.

It was similar to last night—had it just been last night? But it was so different.

This was not just about sex and she couldn’t lie about that any more. Not with the way he was gazing at her.

“So pretty, Paige.” He took a nipple into his mouth, hard, sucking, and she jumped, moaned so loudly she was sure the people in the next room could hear and figured she needed to get used to a permanent blush when she was with Mace.

The sensation pricked and her body arched, welcoming the contact.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he murmured as he glanced at her, then flicked a nipple with his tongue, catching the other between his finger and thumb and rolling it until she felt a shot straight to her womb. Moisture dampened between her legs and she wanted all her clothes off. Now.

“Mace, please … I want …”

“Taking my time,” he told her. “You’ll need to be patient.”

But she wasn’t, never really had been. And his slow torture of her nipples was making her writhe under
him. She found herself grinding against him in hopes of relief, but he pulled away. “You’re a bad girl, Paige.”

“Very. Now take off your clothes,” she begged. “I want to see everything.”

“Demanding, aren’t we?” But he didn’t protest, pulled off his shirt and his jeans while she watched. He hadn’t bothered with underwear and his cock jutted out, heavy and hard, and she couldn’t stop staring.

“I want to explore you … with my mouth,” she told him. “Everywhere.”

“First, you need to be naked.” He slid down her jeans and her thong and gazed at her again. She used her legs to pull him forward and he moved until he was over her face.

She licked the head of his erection and heard him draw in a sharp breath. He supported himself on the headboard above her as she took him into her mouth.

“Jesus, Paige,” he muttered, and she used her tongue to swirl the dark head, which was swollen and throbbing. “Oh, yeah, that’s it …”

He tasted like salt and musk and she loved having this control over him—even with her hands tied, she was calling the shots.

He didn’t seem to mind at all, willingly gave himself to her … let her tease and taunt him with her mouth until he was groaning, telling her he wouldn’t last if she kept it up.

She wanted him to come inside of her, and so she stopped.

“I want to ride you,” she murmured. “Untie me.”

“Give the lady a tattoo and she gets bossy.” But he undid the shirts quickly.

“Lay down,” she told him, and he complied, never taking his eyes off her. She was beyond foreplay and so she straddled his body, fisted her hands in the sheets on either side of him as she slid herself down on him. His hands held her hips and he pushed her down all the way, hard enough for a surprised gasp to escape her throat.

He was so deep inside of her, filling her in the most exquisite way possible. For a moment, she remained still, letting herself adjust to his girth, and then she began to move, up and down, contracting around him, watching his face light with tight pleasure.

He bucked his hips up into her, claiming her the way he had last night. But this was different. The hard column of flesh penetrated her more deeply and she leaned forward and bit his neck as he moved faster, the sensations building inside of her, her belly tightening in anticipation of her orgasm.

When she came, it was with a lightning-force rush that had her clamping down on him, drawing out his own orgasm, milking it from him. She only realized, at that moment, when he spilled inside of her, that they didn’t have a condom. Didn’t care, really, only focused on the incredible high she rode with the swell of her climax.

After a few minutes, Mace muttered, “Fuck.” He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths as she collapsed against him. “I’m sorry, Paige—I wasn’t thinking.”

“Me neither. Didn’t want to,” she admitted. She’d
been tested recently and she knew he had been too—for work. “We’re both clean. And I’m on the pill.”

“If anything happens …” He didn’t finish his statement, didn’t have to.

He’d be there for her. And she’d never thought that would happen, never mind adding kids to the mix.

She was used to a solitary existence. She chose it because, after a day spent atoning for her sins at work, she needed the solitude.

She wanted to think that making love with Mace was only about safety and pleasure and comfort, but she was lying to herself.

She wanted more, so much more … and she always had. Had been pretty sure she’d never be able to get it, though, so she’d given up on the idea.

“Now what?”

“Now we face tomorrow and then you come back home with me.”

“And be your bartender?”

“You can be anything you want,” he promised her, and she believed him. After a few moments of silence, he asked, “So this touch thing … it’s only through your hands, then?”

“You mean, if I touch you with my mouth when we’re making love, can I read you?” She lifted her head from his chest and gave a wan smile. “It’s never worked that way for me. I’m glad.”

“Why? I can promise I’m feeling really damned good.”

She pressed her cheek to his chest again. “Hearing what you’re thinking—anytime I hear someone like that—it’s exhausting.”

“Because you don’t love those people,” he said, and
she picked her head up again and stared at him, the realization that she did, indeed, love him flooding her with warmth.

“How did you …” she started, and he smiled as she trailed off.

“I don’t have to be psychic to know that. But don’t you want to know if I mean it when I say it?”

When
he says it, not
if
. “I’ll know for sure without touching you.” God, she already knew, just by the way he looked at her, held her.

He nodded, but he didn’t say it, didn’t give voice to the sentiment. He would do that in his own time, she guessed, his own way. He’d simply been preparing her for what was coming … and letting her know that she’d fallen in love with him too.

Whether he actually ever said the words was just a formality.

P
aige didn’t say much the next morning when she woke in Mace’s arms. The night before, she hadn’t been sure she’d be able to sleep, but they’d made love until the early morning hours and then weariness had won out. She showered groggily and then she and Mace made their way out of the hotel and into his truck.

It was only when they began to drive, the bright sunlight shining through the sunroof, that she began to feel awake enough to talk. The large coffee Mace had stopped and bought for her helped, as they zoomed toward the prison.

They were outside of the maximum-security compound far sooner than she’d been prepared for. The trip could’ve taken a year, and she still wouldn’t have been ready.

She surveyed the more than half empty parking lot,
was glad the warden had approved her coming on a non-visiting day when there would be no crowds. She didn’t think she could bear watching the people heading inside, their bodies heavy with grief, with the knowledge that they would leave without someone they loved.

What must it be like to visit here with love in your heart? She certainly had none.

Mace finally broke the silence. “The warden’s going to give you a list of all the people who’ve visited Jeffrey over the years. Caleb’s brother asked him to do that.”

She nodded. “I wonder who I’ll see on that list.”

“You’ll see Gray.”

She turned toward him in surprise. “Gray visited Jeffrey? When?”

“A couple of times a year for a while. It was hard trying to find the time, but he did it.”

“Why?”

“He wanted to see the guy for himself, behind bars. He trusted a lot of people, but he felt that since he’d been trained to break out of enemy prisons, anyone could.” Mace shook his head at that statement and the sickening irony didn’t escape her. “He didn’t tell me he’d been doing it until we were flying over for the last mission. I don’t know why he suddenly brought it up. But he told me that he went in, tried to divert Jeffrey’s anger from you to him.”

“It wouldn’t have worked.” She shrugged. “In Jeffrey’s mind, everything he does is a show put on just for me to watch … to cause me pain.” She’d become a nurse to balance out the karma of the deaths Jeffrey caused. “The lives I’ve saved can never, ever make up
for the ones lost because of me. But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying.” Her voice held a desperate edge to it and she hated herself for that. “And now I find out I was on Gray’s mind during that mission. I distracted him.”

“He always worried about you, Paige, for sure, but not when he was on a mission. The reason he died had nothing to do with his being distracted. You need to stop blaming yourself for everything.”

“A lot of people blamed my parents, said they should’ve known that my brother was a monster. Who wants to know that about their own kid? Who could admit it?” She shook her head. “With my friends, I couldn’t go to their funerals. I never got to say good-bye, really. And I feel guilty that it upsets me. I think about their parents and their families and I have no right to worry about myself.”

Jeffrey had ruined her family beyond repair in so many ways.