Midnight (McKenna Chronicles Book 1) (43 page)

Relaxing
against the bed, his fingers continue to move within me, my orgasm never ending
as he touches my hyper-sensitive body.

“You
make me feel so good,” I whisper. His gaze is still trained on my face, heat
within the depths of his eyes. I whisper his name again, grabbing his face with
my hands to bring his lips to mine in a passionate, carnal kiss. He moves his
hand from between my thighs, wrapping it around my hip to pull me into the
length of his body.

     
The enormity of emotions threatens to explode as I move over him: doubt and
fear, lust and love.  

~

“Don’t
you ever get tired?” I ask as he kisses my forehead and runs his nose along
mine.

I
feel his smile as he moves against my lips. “Not with you, baby.” Colin
breathes into me as his mouth brushes gently against my lips. I could stay like
this all day long, snuggled tightly against him, our naked and tangled bodies
pressed deliciously together.

“Go
back to sleep.” He kisses me chastely one last time before moving to pull away.
I quickly wrap my legs around him, trapping him against me.

“One
more kiss, please.” I smile into his hovering face. Tilting his head to bring
his lips within a half an inch of mine, he then pulls away to look into my eyes
again. I growl under my breath at his game, lifting my head to capture him.
He’s too quick, pulling just out of reach before my mouth can find his. The low
chuckle rumbling in his chest inflames me. I let my head fall back to the
pillow in defeat, very slowly moving my hands from his shoulders into his hair,
all the while looking into his bemused eyes. I still for a moment, waiting for
him to make his next move, yet he's frustratingly patient, watching my face
intently as I calculate a strategic plan.

He
leans down. I know he’s only going to tease me again so I remain passive. The
tip of his nose connects with mine, and he tilts his head so his lips can mold
perfectly against me. I wait, not falling into his trap. After another
heartbeat I pounce, pulling his hair at the same time as I lift my head to find
his mouth. Oh, the joy of success.  I’m ferocious, my tongue battling with
his decadently until he’s breathless and panting.

Releasing
him suddenly, I fall back into the bed, laughing at his dazed expression. “When
will you be back?” I ask sweetly. 

Shaking
his head as if to clear his thoughts, he says, “Around one. Be ready to go.”
Colin kisses me quickly before unwrapping himself from my arms and legs.
Standing naked next to the bed, his eyes darken as he gazes at my bare,
prostrate figure lying in front of him.

“You
could stay and keep me company.”

“I
wish I could, baby.” He looks tempted by my offer, perusing my body again.

“Would
you like me to meet you at the conference center?” I offer to make his travel
plans easier this morning.

“No.”
His voice is firm, as are his eyes. “I don’t want you traveling by yourself.”
He looks at me soundly to drive home his words.

So
we’re back to this. “I . . .” Bending to reach me, he puts a finger over my lip
to stop my retort.

“Charlie,
I have a lot to worry about right now. I don’t want to add you to the list.
Please, just do as I ask.”

He
knows very well I don’t want to add to his stress level, so he’s playing on my
weakness. Smart, intelligent ass.

“Fine.”
I cross my arms over my breasts, pouting.

“Fine,”
he says harshly, but his eyes are bemused. Leaning in one last time, he kisses
me. “Go back to sleep,” he demands, throwing the covers over my head as he
leaves for the shower.

Half
an hour later he's clean, shaven and dressed in a three-piece deep navy suit,
stunning and brilliant. Kneeling on the bed next to me, he leans down to
whisper into my ear, “I’ll be back before you know it, baby. I left you
something hanging in the closet, something for later.” He nuzzles against my
cheek, kissing me lightly.

“I’ll
miss you,” I mumble sleepily.

“And
I you,” he whispers gently in my ear.

Kissing
my hair, he slips away, and I fall into a restless sleep with strange dreams.
The colors are bright, red, purple, yellow and magenta rotating together into a
pinwheel, melting to form an abstract painting of Colin, his arms reaching to
touch me. His face is shaded in different colors, and he’s animated in a
conversation I can’t hear. I’m dreaming, just under the surface of waking but I
can’t break through to the other side. My mouth opens to talk to him, yet
there’s no sound, and my arms remain stiffly by my side. I’m paralyzed in
sleep, unable to speak or move.

Drifting
again, the dream changes to a meadow filled with flowers the same colors that
were Colin a moment ago. The wind creates movement; the rolling meadow changes
into my body. He covers me and his lips dip to touch mine. Suddenly and without
warning the colors swirl into a void of darkness, deep endless black and a
hallow emptiness. A sharp pain rips through my chest leaving a void—black as
empty space. It’s my heart, and the pain is palpable, as real as a physical
injury.  He’s gone and I am empty.

Bolting
upright, I hear the echo of my faded scream reverberate against the empty walls
of the bedroom as I wake from the nightmare. I can’t remember where I am. My
eyes franticly look for Colin, my heart beating so hard in my chest I think
it’s going to explode. Pushing hair from my damp face I hang my head in my hands,
repeating to myself
it was just a dream, just a dream
.

It’s
moments before I’ve calmed, knowing I’m in the hotel room alone. Colin is gone
for the morning to complete his final preparation for tonight’s debate, the
last one before confirming his candidacy for president. It’s a big day for him.

The
alarm clock on the nightstand declares it eleven o’clock, two hours since he
left. Pushing the remnants of the dream away I throw the blanket back to reach
for one of his T-shirts.

My
stomach reminds me I should call for something to eat before getting ready.
Coffee and blueberry pancakes are a sure way to ward off the melancholy left
from the nightmare. Turning from the phone after having called room service, I
spot my camera bag on the floor by the door. For some reason I’m compelled to
look through the pictures from his speech in Kansas City, quickly downloading
them onto my laptop to manipulate the frames. In the first few shots the man’s
camera, hat and sunglasses cover a majority of his face, making it impossible
to detect his features. His physique isn’t unusual in any way, and it’s hard to
see specifics with the large sweatshirt enveloping his frame. Based on what I
see around him, I would guess that he’s approximately six feet tall, thin, yet
I suspect he may be on the muscular side by the width of his shoulders.

The
knock on the door startles me breathless. I’ve got to stop the whole Nancy Drew
business before I have a heart attack. Thankfully, whoever brought up the cart
left it outside the door, so I can just pull it into the suite.

I’m
surprised by a huge bouquet of red roses, waiting for me along with the
pancakes and coffee.
Colin.
A card is hidden deep in the stems.

“Ouch,”
I whine to the silent room after slicing my finger on one of many sharp thorns
lining the stems. Sucking on the small wound to ease the sting, I read the
card.

You are mine.

This
message doesn’t fit with all of the others, somehow harsh in its possession.
The few notes he’s written to me have been more sensitive, some of them
romantic. Either way, the flowers are beautiful and I need to thank him, yet I
don’t want to interrupt him while he’s preparing for the debate. A simple
e-mail that will flow to his phone will have to do for now.

To:
Colin McKenna

From:
Charlie Carter

Subject:
Flowers

They’re
beautiful and so are you. Thank you. – CC

Not
surprisingly, there isn’t a response from him. With coffee and a mouthful of
blueberry pancakes I revisit the photos, flipping to the next frame where the
man has lowered the camera as he swivels to escape into the parking lot. I
can’t say I know him, although, there’s an air of familiarity about the
structure of his face. Losing track of time, I stare at the photos,
concentrating on them while finishing breakfast.

The
light changes subtly, brightening the room, my cue it’s time to get ready.
 

Leaving
everything as is, I head to the shower. Colin told me he has what I would call,
a stalker. Someone very interested in his campaign . . . so why is he taking
pictures of me? It’s possible whoever it is has figured out we’re having an
affair. My heart stills, considering the possibility and that it could affect
Colin’s campaign negatively. What if this person is threatening to release
information about us, specifically about my past and me? The long ago Facebook
message pops into memory with perfect recall. Someone knows I was raped and the
consequences that followed. Is this why Colin suddenly wants to move our
relationship into the public eye? Is someone threatening him? Instantly, I know
he’s holding back; he may have told me a portion of the truth, but he hasn’t
told me everything. I’m sure of it.

I
contemplate the right time to have this conversation, knowing very well just
before a debate is the worst time to throw him off of his game. It will have to
be after, but before I leave tomorrow. Today I’ll have to play the model
citizen, the perfect addition to his campaign.

Before
finishing my hair I decide to find out what Colin left for me.

When
I see the dress hanging in the closet, my first thought is not one worth
repeating. Initially I’m insulted that he doesn’t trust my judgment, so he’s
picked something traditional and boring for my first foray into the political
world. Yet on further review, the dress is not very conservative. In fact, it’s
something I would have bought for myself, had I the opportunity to shop for the
event tonight. There are two surprises: the first is the open back on the
dress, similar to my black leather party dress. The front mimics the demure
boat-neck sheath dress, but as it moves to the back there are two buttons
holding the top together, allowing for a large diamond shaped cutout—an opening
for Colin’s roaming fingers. The other surprise is it’s the exact same shade of
navy his suit is fashioned from. Shaking my head, I’m unsure of what to make of
any of this.

I
finish readying for his arrival, sweeping my hair in an elegant, side-swept
ponytail, with simple make-up to highlight my eyes and cheekbones.

The
dress fits like a glove; a body-hugging glove, emphasizing my hourglass curves.
The small peplum waist follows the bend accentuating the bow of my hips,
transforming my silhouette into that of a statuesque, graceful woman. I love
it; demure and sexy at the same time.

The
only jewelry I wear is the gift from Colin, the panther proudly displayed on my
left wrist. I choose a bright red pair of four-inch heels for a pop of color
and I’m ready for the evening.

When
I reach the living room I find Colin, silently standing in front of the
flowers, the computer screen showcasing mystery man just beside them. Casual in
his stance, his suit jacket is pushed behind the hand held in his pant pocket.
He’s stunning with his tie slightly loosened—if only his face weren’t hard,
bitter anger emanating from every ounce of his being.

Walking
silently to him I wrap my arm through his, sliding my hand into the pocket to
grasp his fingers. He doesn’t look at me, but clenches my hand tightly, almost
painfully. I lean my head onto his arm, waiting for him to calm down.

Finally
he turns, grabbing and lifting me up into a desperate hug, his head dipping
into the curve of my neck. Wrapping my arms around him, I mirror his need,
pushing my nose into the hair above his ear to breathe in the musky male scent
I love so much. After another moment he tries to lift his head, but I cling to
his neck a little longer, a little harder, which normally makes him
laugh. But not today, not now—not even a smile. His eyes are a swirling
tornado of unmasked anger, his nostrils flaring as he takes deep, calming
breaths. 

“What’s
wrong?” I ask hesitantly.

“The
flowers are not from me.” His voice is barely audible, rage hardly contained as
he talks.

“Who
then?”
A whirlwind of thoughts
spin around before reality sinks in—mystery man
. My stomach churns with
understanding. Colin doesn’t have a stalker: I do.

“THIS
IS NOT
the first time he’s sent something to me, is it?” Colin has been
holding out on me for far too long. It’s time he confessed.

His
jaw clenches back and forth as he contemplates his answer and suddenly I’m
infuriated. Breaking all contact I push away from him, walking to the other
side of the room.

“Stop
trying to protect me and tell me what the hell is going on. How long has this
been happening? And don’t tell me Kansas City. I know damn well that was just
the first time I found out about it.” I glare at him. “Enough with the
overprotective
keep Charlie in the dark
bullshit. You have some
explaining to do, and I’m ready to hear it. Talk, McKenna.”

The
corner of his mouth lifts. “You’re right, Charlie. Kansas City was not the
first time something was sent. It started in New York. In fact, I thought you
may have known and that was the reason you tried to leave me.” He watches
intently as this information sinks in.

My
eyes close as I digest it; he’s right. That was when I received the Facebook
message and I tried to leave to spare him from my past.