The Confession (24 page)

“I couldn't stop thinking about her. I ran into her about a month later at a coffee shop. Then we ran into each other again. And again. After a while it was pretty obvious what was going on.” He gave a heavy sigh. “I told her I was going to get a new assignment in a different precinct. Cops have rules, Anna. We don't throw each other under the bus, and we certainly don't mess around with each other's wives.”

I stared at him, surprised, unable to find the words.

“You know your mother. She had quite a bit to say about that. Long story short, she blamed me for screwing everything up, and said I was a coward if I didn't figure out a way to make it work.” He smiled now. “We told her husband together. I got wrung up on some BS charge after that and was demoted. I rode a desk for three years for that woman. But Anna, she was worth every minute of it.”

I turned back to the bay. “Wow.”

“I know complex, honey,” he said. “And I know good men can make mistakes. What matters is how they fix them. I just hoped that you'd skip all that heartache and go straight to the good stuff.”

Alec had caused me a lot of heartache, but as I slid beneath my father's arm again, and heard the laughter coming from inside the restaurant, I couldn't help but wonder if this
was
the good stuff.

“Ahem.”

I turned to see Amy, leaning through the door, grinning.

“Some of us are starving in here.”

Looking up at my dad one more time, I thought of everything he'd been through to get my mom, and then me. Yes, he knew complex, but he also knew which battles were worth fighting.

We sat around a big wooden table, Alec on my right, Amy on the other, the savory smell of chicken filling the air. Thomas argued with Mike and Marcos, and my dad talked to Mac about Vietnam. We laughed and ate and told stories, and as the moments passed, I could feel the years pass, too. I could see us all growing older, see a ring on Amy's finger, see Paisley, her nose in a book at the end of the table, and Chloe arguing with her dad about going to see her boyfriend. I could see my dad's hair thin, and a few more wrinkles on Thomas's face, and Marcos bringing Derrick without a second thought. I could see Christmases, and Thanksgivings, and birthdays. One after another after another.

And I could see Alec, right by my side through all of it.

“You okay?” he whispered in my ear.

I blinked back the image to find the whole table staring at me. But I wasn't embarrassed that I'd been daydreaming, or of the tears that rolled down my cheeks. It was so warm, I couldn't even remember a time I'd ever been cold.

I turned to Alec, grabbed his face in my hands, and kissed him.

He was tense at first, but soon kissed me back, a smile on his lips. His hands found my bare shoulders and pulled me closer.

“Have I mentioned I have a concealed weapon?” I heard my dad ask.

Alec and I kept kissing.

“Complicated is right,” muttered Amy.

“Is something happening?” asked Thomas.

“Love, my friend,” said Mac. “Love is happening.”

T
hey all left too soon, and though I was sad to see them go, my heart pounded in anticipation of what the night would bring. As Alec and I walked up the steps to his apartment, a weighted silence hung between us.

Before we went inside, I stopped.

“Thank you for tonight,” I said. “It just topped my all-time-favorite moments list.”

He smiled. It killed me, every time.

“So I'm on the list now?” he teased.

“You
are
the list.”

He was tilting forward, his free hand running over my ribs. The tip of his nose touched my cheek as he pressed his lips to my jaw.

“Alec?”

“Mm hmm?”

“When we go inside, I want you to touch me.”

He pulled back. His eyes flashed, drawing my need to the surface.

“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” I said.

“Whatever I want,” he murmured.

I nodded. “What do you want, Alec?”

He moved closer, until my back came flush against the door. His jaw skimmed mine. His teeth found my ear.

“I want this never to end.”

There was a pain in him that made my chest ache, but before I could ask what he meant, he typed the security code into the box and pushed inside, then turned to me.

His tie was already in a loose knot, which he slipped off now.

My pulse scrambled. That damn tie.

“Come here,” he said.

I did as he asked, and when we were close, he took my wrists and wrapped one side of the tie around my hand, firmly enough that it wouldn't slip. He did the same with the other end, leaving a foot of space between them.

“Pull it tight,” he said.

I gripped the soft fabric, and when I drew it tight it made a soft
snap
.

Then he grabbed the slack, and led me to the corner of the room, where the punching bag still hung. Confused, I watched as he lifted the heavy sack until it unhooked from the chain. He set it on the floor, out of the way, while the chain swung from the exposed ceiling beam.

“Anything I want,” he said, almost like a question, but not.

“Yes.”

He lifted the slack in the tie and hooked it over the S curve on the last link of the chain. It wasn't high enough that I had to stand on my tiptoes; my fists hung just above my forehead. Still, the power dynamic was clear. He was in control. I was his to do with as he pleased.

I shivered.

“You can let go whenever you need to,” he said.

I understood why he was telling me this. The one and only time he'd bound me hadn't started off so great.

When I nodded, he reached behind my neck, and slowly untied the back of my halter top. When the straps were loose, he pulled them forward, revealing my flushed breasts one inch at a time. The soft fabric scraped over my nipples, making me painfully aware of how they tightened, and tingled, and longed for his wet tongue.

When my chest was completely exposed, he stepped back.

“Beautiful,” he muttered.

He didn't touch.

My toes curled as he moved behind me, and soon I felt his fingers in my hair. I'd used a large clawed clip to hold it back, and he released it now, allowing the wavy strands to cascade down my back. His fingers slid into it, untwisting the pieces, massaging my scalp. These acts were somehow more intimate than anything he'd done so far.

I shuddered as I felt him move to the back zipper. Slowly, he eased it down. The cool air brushed my spine, making me stand straighter.

“You're blushing,” he said, drawing attention to the heat rising up my neck. His breath warmed my skin as he moved my hair and kissed the top of my shoulder.

My head fell to the side to give him more room. My eyelids drifted closed. A moan slipped from my mouth.

The zipper finally reached its stopping place at the bottom of my waist. Delicately, he peeled the fabric away, until it slid down my legs to the floor.

Apart from my heeled strappy sandals, I was completely naked.

“Nervous?” he asked, still behind me.

Gripping the silk tie, I took a slow, measured breath.

“A little.”

“Why?” he asked. “You know I'm going to make you feel good.”

“Because . . .” I gasped as his fingers slid down my sides to my hips, and then lower, to draw slow, tantalizing circles on my outer thighs. “Because I think you might torture me on the way there.”

His fingers spread as his hips pressed against my lower back. There was no hiding his arousal as I tried pitifully to grind against him.

“So impatient.” Heat jolted through my veins as his palms pressed against my lower belly. “I'd be lying if I said I didn't like you that way.”

I smirked.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

He stepped away again, and in response, my body drew back into the space where he'd been. The chain rattled and my arms stretched as I reached the limit of my tether.

He crossed in front of me, far too dressed in his slacks and button-up shirt. The fact that he was so covered made me even more aware of my own bareness. My breasts heaved with each waiting breath. I scooted my heels together to conceal the apex of my thighs, but it was no use. Even as I closed my eyes, I could feel his gaze drawing the heat to my skin.

“Why are you hiding from me?” he asked.

A rustle of fabric reached my ears, and then he touched my ankle. I jumped a little at the contact. With my eyes closed, my body felt wildly sensitive.

“I'm not,” I lied.

He eased my legs open. Not far, but enough for his other hand to slide between my calves. A bolt of pleasure raced up my thighs, and I clamped them shut.

He kissed my knee, licked the outside, then deliberately began to ease my legs apart again.

“Why?” he repeated.

I didn't want to talk. I wanted to feel. I couldn't do anything
but
feel. His fingertips were climbing higher, spanning the surface of my inner thigh. His tongue was making a curved line toward my center. My muscles flexed uncontrollably. Overhead the chain rattled.

“Because,” I sputtered when he stopped. “Because I don't want it to end either.”

Any of it. His touch. The feel of his mouth on my body. The way he held me in his sleep. The look on his face when I kissed him in front of my family.

The way my heart felt, right now, when it beat for him alone.

It should have scared me. I should have laughed and said something to take the pressure off. In the past I would have already been planning my escape, trying to envision a new apartment, new job.

I couldn't leave this room. Not even in my head. And I didn't want to.

His hand flinched, the only sign that my words had affected him.

“Show me,” he said, so softly I barely heard him.

It was a different kind of bravery that had me pulling my heels apart, nothing like the courage it took to run from Bobby or face Trevor Marshall. This strength went soul deep, and was laced with a trust so fierce, I could have taken on the whole damn world if he'd asked.

Opening myself before him, I looked down, eyes wide and heart pounding, and said, “I want to watch.”

His mouth warped into a grin, and his eyes gleamed with a devious kind of pride.

He kissed his way up my thigh, and then he positioned me a little, wider, reaching around to my buttocks to tilt my hips toward him.

Then he began.

It was different than when he'd gone down on me in the car. In the dark it had been impossible to see what he'd been doing—not that I'd been able to watch anyway. I'd thrown my head back and closed my eyes and let the feelings swallow me whole. But now I wanted to see. And as his tongue flattened against my swollen center, I couldn't possibly imagine anything as erotic in the entire history of the universe.

He warmed me up with slow, broad licks, starting deep and working his way to the top of my slit. Then the tip of his tongue penetrated me, pushing into the folds. I cried out and nearly lost balance at the new riot of sensations, but my grip on the tie, and his arms around my hips, held me upright.

“That's it,” he said, as if I was the one doing something right. “That's good. Right there.”

He moved one hand to the front and spread me wide then, and began to lick consistently. A low moan rumbled from my chest, and my eyes lost focus as he tugged on my wet, tender lips with his own.

He moved higher.

“That,”
I cried. “Oh, oh, oh.”

He worked my clit, circling it, giving it light flicks and gentle sucks, and I shattered. The heat raced through me, so harsh it burned. Then there was nothing but that exquisite feeling, ravaging my entire body. I swung back, arms stretched taut by the chain, spine bowed, as he continued to support me with one arm.

Even then I felt beautiful.

He brought me back down slowly, with gentle kisses on my mound, my thighs, the bottom of my belly. A sheen of sweat covered my skin. His eyes were closed in bliss. He groaned against me.

And then he began again. This time his fingers entered me. Two of them, pressing upward to that place that felt like the most desperate kind of itch. Rubbing, rubbing, rubbing, while he licked me slowly, then faster, and faster.

I called his name. I begged him to stop. And then not to stop. And then never, ever,
ever
to stop.

Fireworks exploded behind my closed eyes. I came hard, so hard I nearly hurt my shoulders when my weight dropped against the bindings. My fingers were numb from squeezing the tie, but I didn't let go. I couldn't. Not when it felt like this.

He rose, kissing his way up my belly.

“Hurry,” I demanded, half-crazed. “I need you. I need . . .”

He kissed my mouth, and I could taste myself on his lips and tongue. Salty, and dark, like him but more intoxicating because it was my desire that coated his body.

Taste what I did to you,
he seemed to say.
This pleasure belongs to me.

He undid his pants and hastily shoved them down his thighs along with his underwear. And then he dipped, and I jerked hard as his stiff cock grazed over my still pulsing clit.

“Now,”
I cried.

He hiked my thigh up his hip and slowly thrust into me. I arched back, the chain pulling tight, the ceiling beam creaking under my frenzied movements. He filled me completely, until I could barely breathe. Until that sweet, burning stretch stole what remained of my concentration.

And then he lifted the other leg. The brunt of my weight was on my arms now, pulling the fabric taut, but I held strong. He didn't let me wrap my legs around him. He gripped beneath my thighs, and with a savage hunger in his gaze, withdrew, and watched gravity carry me right back over him.

“So fucking wet,” he said. “Your thighs are slick with it.”

His arms shifted beneath my thighs to bear most of my weight, and they flexed with each subtle movement. He bounced me off him hard this time, and when I rocked back he swore, and did it again. I rode him like I was on some kind of sex swing, and he pounded into me with a hard, deep passion that I could do nothing but take.

“Listen to us,” he said roughly. “You feel so fucking good.”

I took him deep. Again and again. He guided my body, but I claimed his.

The next orgasm ripped through me, and I stiffened, my blood on fire. He caught me before I fell, and when I regained my bearings, he was holding me, still with his cock deep in me. My damp breasts pressed against his shirt. My arms were free, though still bound by the tie, and I looped it behind his neck, trembling as I held on.

In a few quick steps he was at the couch, and sat with me straddling him. Weak and pliant, I used the tie around the back of his neck to pull him closer, and the fervent dedication in his kiss shook me down to my bones.

“Your shirt,” I whimpered as his mouth worked down the cords of my neck. I would have done it myself if my hands weren't still tangled in silk.

He made quick work of it, and I sighed as my breasts smashed against his chest. My fingertips wove through his hair.

“You sweet, beautiful girl,” he murmured.

Stronger again, I lifted on my knees and settled back down gently.

“Not that sweet,” I said.

“Sweet,” he argued, biting my lower lip. “Sweet and wicked.”

I would show him wicked.

I slipped off his lap, and caught a flash of teeth as his cock sprang free, deep red and hard as iron. I rubbed myself against it, just one teasing slide before I lifted my heavy arms and lowered the tie down his chest.

He watched as I wound the slack in the tie around the base of his cock. Not tight enough to hurt him, but enough that his fingers dug into my hips.

“Mine,” I whispered, and with my bound hands now on his stomach, I rose, and took him all the way to the base, until I could feel that soft, wet silk against my entrance.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. My fists tightened on the tie.

I rocked my hips and squeezed him, and his face tightened into a grimace.

“Mine,” I said again.

Moving faster, I tilted forward, and bit him in the shoulder.

“Fuck,
fuck
, that's good,” he ground out.

He joined me, fucking me while I fucked him, holding me still so he could go deeper. Again, I felt the tension build, seemingly impossible after all the pleasure I'd already experienced. It spread across my pelvis, warming, blushing, and then burning as it rippled up my spine and out my limbs.

With a guttural groan, his head tilted back, and he forced me to be still. My last coherent thought was to release the tie, and it unraveled from my hand like a rubber band, releasing the pressure on his cock.

He came and came. His orgasm kept mine going. I could feel the burst of liquid inside me. Feel him swell and shudder. His forehead fell forward, onto my shoulder, and he gave one final, jerky thrust, and then fell back against the couch cushions.