Primal Passion (12 page)

Price helped Denise into the car, followed
Gunner in and then instructed Roman to take them to the
hospital.

Denise turned to look out the window as the
car started moving. Unwilling to keep up the distance between them,
he moved closer, placing his arms around her shoulders.

Denise was still for several seconds and then
she shifted, wrapping her arm around his waist as she pressed her
head against his chest. “That bullet was meant for me.”

Price knew her words were true, but he
couldn’t let her carry around that kind of guilt. “You don’t know
that, Denise.”

She lifted her head, her face only inches
from his. Misery was written in her eyes. “Yes, I do. Curtis never
sleeps in the lab office, and everyone knows it. It would have been
me on that cot, if…”

Her words drifted away. She didn’t have to
finish. They all knew where she’d been. Why Curtis had been
sleeping at the lab.

“He’s going to be okay, Deni.” Gunner shifted
from the side couch, claiming the spot on her other side. He rested
his hand on her knee. “You have to keep faith.”

“Why would someone want to kill me? Is what
I’m doing really so bad? I just want to help people. Find a way for
them to live without pain, without losing their memories or their
minds.”

Gunner grasped her hand. “You’re not doing
anything wrong. The only villain in this is the person tormenting
you.”

“My dad had early onset Alzheimer’s. Did I
ever tell you that?”

Gunner shook his head. “You’ve never
mentioned your dad.”

“My parents had me later in life, both of
them were thirty-eight when I was born. I don’t know if they
intended to have any more kids, but when my dad was forty, he was
diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.”

“I didn’t realize someone so young could get
Alzheimer’s.” Price hated the desolate look in Denise’s eyes.

“It’s rare, but it happens. My dad fought it
for a few years, but it got bad. He couldn’t remember who I was
most days, but every now and then, there would be this moment of
clarity. And it was good. We’d talk and it was nice.”

Price started doing the math. Denise couldn’t
have been more than six years old. How much had watching her
father’s suffering impacted her, driven her decisions in life?
Given her present profession, her non-stop working and
determination to succeed, he’d say those early years had changed
everything for her.

“What happened to your dad, Deni?”

Denise didn’t look at Gunner—or at him—as she
responded. Instead, she gazed straight ahead. “During one of his
lucid periods, he killed himself. He always said he didn’t want to
be a bother to my mother, didn’t want me to remember him as some
lost soul. So he ended it.”

Price felt as if he’d been punched in the
stomach. “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“Jesus.” Gunner’s muttered comment mirrored
Price’s thoughts.

“It’s okay,” she said after a few moments.
“I’ve made my peace with it. I really have. He wanted to die with
dignity. That was his choice to make. I just want a world where no
one else has to make that same decision.”

Price took her hand and squeezed it. Game
over. He was in love with this woman and he would be until the day
he died.

“We’re here,” Gunner said as they pulled up
to the hospital. They spent several hours sitting in the emergency
room waiting for Curtis to come out of surgery, then even longer as
the staff delivered him to recovery.

Denise held herself together until the doctor
assured them Curtis was out of danger. Then she fell apart, crying
tears of relief as Gunner held her.

They walked to Curtis’s room together,
allowing Denise to introduce them. She called Gunner her boyfriend
and explained Price was a friend. Curtis accepted the news that she
had a boyfriend with wide eyes and a loud hoot. Price instantly
liked the research assistant.

When Gunner asked if he had seen his shooter.
Curtis shook his head. He said that one minute he felt a sharp
pain, the next he was waking up in this room.

Gunner and Price said their goodbyes and then
stood outside the door of Curtis’s hospital room while Denise
visited a little longer.

After ten minutes, she emerged. “He’s
asleep.”

Gunner took her hand as they returned to the
limo. It was early evening. The sun was just dipping below the
horizon, painting the sky a muted orange. Price’s house was on the
outskirts of the city and the ride there was spent in quiet
contemplation. None of them broke the silence, all of them lost in
their own thoughts.

It had been a long, stressful day, and all
Price could think about was getting something to eat and settling
down in front of the fireplace to relax with Gunner and Denise.
He’d called ahead to let his cook know when they would arrive.
After the meal, he’d send the servants to their living quarters. He
wanted to show Gunner and Denise around their new home without the
presence of others.

When they drove through the gated entrance,
Denise gasped quietly as Gunner muttered, “holy fuck.”

He’d grown up in the large mansion in
Watertown, but even Price could appreciate the majesty of it. He
hoped they wouldn’t find it too intimidating or overwhelming.

“You really live here?” Denise asked.
“Alone?”

Price took her hand as they exited the limo
and led her up the grand staircase to the front door. “I do. I
moved out after graduation and spent a few years in an apartment in
downtown Boston. When my parents passed away, it seemed wrong not
to move back home.”

“It’s beautiful.” Denise’s eyes widened when
they stepped into the elegant foyer. His butler and housekeeper
were there to greet them.

“Good evening, Mr. Bennett. Beverly has
dinner ready for you as requested. I’ll help Roman carry in the
bags. Joyce has prepared the guest rooms in the left wing.

Price shook his head. “No, put their bags in
the right wing, in the room next to mine.” The right wing had
always been reserved for family only, the left used to accommodate
out of town guests.

His butler, Patrick, nodded his head, hiding
his surprise much better than Joyce, who began to eye Denise and
Gunner with genuine curiosity.

Most of the servants in the house had worked
for the Bennett family for decades. Price knew their loyalty was
unwavering and his trust in them was absolute. While they might be
able to hide their true association from the rest of the world, it
would be impossible to do so at home.

Sometime soon, he would have to pull Joyce
and Patrick aside, explain that he would be living in a ménage
relationship and make sure they understood the importance of their
silence.

He wasn’t looking forward to that awkward
conversation.

Price led them to the dining room and they
took their seats at one end of the long tiger-wood table. The
silence from the limo drifted to the house, making dinner a tense
affair. Price missed the casual conversations that had taken place
around the tiny table in the hotel. Finally, he couldn’t take it
anymore. Price pushed away the coconut-crème pie his cook had made
for dessert. “So what do you think of the place?”

Denise put down her fork, glancing around at
the ornate dining room. He should have told the serving staff to
set the meal up at the kitchen table. He only used this room when
entertaining.

“I’m afraid to touch anything,” she
confessed.

Gunner nodded. “It’s like living in a
museum.”

Price had done a terrible job introducing
them to his home. So far he’d shown them the front foyer and the
dining room, both places he rarely inhabited.

“Come on. Time for you to see the rest of the
house.”

He led them toward the back of the house,
past all the public rooms. He’d show them the parlor and living
room tomorrow. Tonight, they needed to see that despite the size of
the mansion, it was truly a home.

They stepped into the family room and Denise
released a long sigh of relief. He’d redecorated the room when he
took over the house, making it a comfortable place where he could
come home, kick off his shoes and recline in front of the TV for a
few hours before bed.

“Now this is what I’m talking about.” Gunner
dropped down in one of the recliners, tugging on the pulley until
it slid back and the foot cushion rose. “Oh yeah. This is
good.”

Price chuckled. “Glad you like my chair.”

Denise kicked off her shoes and sat down on
the plush couch. “I love this room.”

“Good. Because I suspect this is where we’ll
spend most of our evenings together. The kitchen is through there
with a breakfast nook. That’s where I eat my meals when I’m not
entertaining. My home office is through that door, but it’s large
enough that I suspect we could set up two more desks, so each of us
has our own workspace.”

“And we’ll sleep in the right wing?” Denise
asked.

He nodded, wishing she didn’t still look
quite so overwhelmed. “I haven’t been in the left wing in nearly
three months. It’s shut up most of the time, only opened when
someone comes to visit. I promise you, the family wing is just as
homey and comfortable as this room. If you can forget about the
extra, overdone, under-used rooms, I promise you this house is just
as laidback as the next place. What’s mine is yours, and I’m hoping
you’ll want to add your own stuff, your own touches. This is our
home now. If you want it to be. If not…”

He wasn’t sure what else to say. He loved his
home and he wanted them to stay. But if they weren’t comfortable
moving in, he would pack up and follow where they led. He didn’t
have a choice. Not because of his vow to the Trinity Masters, but
because of the commitment he felt toward them.

“I like it here.” Denise lifted her feet
beneath her and collapsed against the back of the couch. “It’s your
home. I’m touched that you want to share it with us.”

He grinned. Leave it to Denise to know
exactly the right thing to say. He joined her on the couch. “I’m
glad you’re here.”

He reached out to touch her hair, and just
like that the atmosphere in the room became charged, electric.
Gunner didn’t move from the recliner, but Price could feel his eyes
on them, watching as Price leaned closer to kiss her.

Price wasted no time advancing their play. He
reached for Denise’s breasts, rubbing them through the material of
her blouse and bra. She twisted on the couch until she faced
him.

“Take off her shirt,” Gunner directed.

Price glanced over at the recliner. Gunner
had lowered the footrest and leaned forward, but he didn’t come to
join them.

“I want to watch you fuck our girl,” Gunner
said as he reached for the button at his waistband, unfastening it
before sliding down the zipper. Then he lifted his hips just enough
to shove his pants and boxers to his knees. His cock stood erect,
the head brushing against his stomach. Gunner gripped himself
tightly, then lifted his head and gestured for Price to keep
going.

Their lover was a voyeur. Price had never
considered himself an exhibitionist, but knowing that Gunner was
watching drove even more blood to his cock.

Price reached for Denise’s blouse. He started
to unfasten the first button but then decided he didn’t have time
for that. He ripped the material along the front, dragging it over
her arms. Her bra quickly followed. Price laid her down on the
couch, caging her beneath him as he roughly sucked first one and
then the other nipple into his mouth. Denise gripped his hair with
her fingers and he sensed she was torn between holding him to her
and pushing him away. She was new to pleasurable pain. When she
moaned, pulling him closer, he resisted the urge to pump a fist in
the air. She would accept everything they dished out. During their
time at the hotel they’d limited their sex play, keeping it as
vanilla as a threesome could. He and Gunner took turns fucking her,
teaching her how to suck their cocks.

Now, Price longed to expand on those lessons.
He wanted to spank her, tie her up, blindfold her, fuck her ass. A
lifetime wouldn’t be long enough to explore all the ways he wanted
to take her.

“Get those fucking pants off her,” Gunner
demanded.

Price heard Gunner’s quiet panting, could see
his friend stroking his own cock as he watched them.

Price tackled the zipper on Denise’s slacks,
stripping them and her panties away. Then he released himself from
the confinement of his pants. He restrained a groan of relief as
the pressure of the thick material on his cock was lifted. He
quickly shed his shirt as well.

“Fuck her with your fingers. I want to hear
her cry out, wanna watch her close those pretty blue eyes of hers
when she comes.”

Price wanted the same thing. He dragged his
fingers along her wet slit, toying with her clit. Denise lifted her
hips when he pinched it.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, her head thrashing
on the cushions. “Please.”

Price grinned. “That’s right, beauty. Beg me.
Beg for it.”

“Price.” She fisted her hands into the couch
cushions as he pressed two fingers deep inside her. He didn’t give
her time to adjust to the invasion. Instead, he released the reins,
gave in to the need driving him. He prided himself on his control.
His finesse. His skills in the bedroom.

Denise stripped that pride away.

He thrust his fingers deep, driving her
quickly to climax. She screamed as she came. Price continued to
take, demanded more. He added a third finger and pressed his thumb
against her clit. She stiffened and came again.

“God dammit, Price. Fuck her. Fuck her
hard.”

A quick glance to his left confirmed Gunner
was close. His hand was slapping his flesh faster.

Price pulled out his fingers and replaced
them with his dick. He shoved in to the hilt as Denise lifted her
hands to his upper arms. She dug into the flesh there, scraping her
nails over his skin. He relished the pain.