I flipped her onto her stomach, and held her in place with my open palms, my mouth moving up her back, along her spine.
I tried to push her sweatshirt up out of my way, just below her shoulder blades, but she tucked her arms and kept it in place.
Even in a nearly mindless state, this gave me pause.
What on earth could she be trying to hide from me?
I had no notion what it could be, but I was bound and determined to find out.
“Get on your hands and knees,” I ordered, voice roughened with need.
With trembling gasps she complied.
I came up close behind her, my burgeoning erection digging into her ass.
She bowed her spine, swinging her h*ps to push her ass back against me.
Without warning, and swiftly, I bent forward, pushing her sweatshirt up and over her head, so her back was completely bared to me. She didn’t have time to stop me, that time.
I saw it right away, the discoloration of it catching my eye.
It froze me for an endless moment, then my heart started pounding frantically.
Just on the edge of her shoulder, about the size of a dime, was a healed over pink wound. I knew what it was because it matched the one on her shoulder to a tee.
It was a gunshot wound.
Another one, a fresher one. It had to be just a few months old.
My teeth clenched, my pounding heart doing a slow, torturous roll inside my chest.
“You were shot again?” I asked raggedly, though the answer was obvious.
She’d stiffened up, clearly bracing herself for my reaction.
“A flesh wound,” she said quietly, trying and failing to keep her trembling voice calm.
“Who shot you?”
“I didn’t get a good look at the guy.”
That was a frustrating answer, but I moved past it, as something else occurred to me. “That letter . . . did you write that to me before or after this happened?” It seemed like an important piece of the puzzle, my mind racing with all of the possible ramifications.
“Before.”
I covered her back, embracing her firmly from behind, my mouth working at her ear as I spoke, “So you knew it was coming? You knew that someone was actively trying to kill you? And instead of coming to me for help, you wrote me a letter?”
She took a very deep breath that moved both of our bodies. “Yes. I’m sorry, but this is another thing I can’t explain to you.”
“And then you were shot, so now you’re being held here?” Rage filled me as another idea occurred. “Did that blond motherfucker have anything to do with you being shot?”
Her ear moved against my mouth as she shook her head slowly. “No, Dair. Heath has something to do with me being alive right now. You know I can’t give you the details, but trust me when I say that he’s as deep in this mess as I am. I was grazed on the shoulder, but he took two bullets for me that time, or it would have been much worse.”
I didn’t know what to make of that.
It was a kick in the teeth to feel indebted to a guy that you hated on sight.
“Heath, huh,” was all I said, holding still over her for the longest time as I tried to piece together these rare puzzle pieces I’d been made privy to.
Iris started moving against me, working her back against my front in a way that distracted even me at my most focused.
I didn’t budge, didn’t encourage her, but it made no difference. I was already right where she wanted me, braced over her, my fists digging into the hard mattress on either side of her.
She arched and writhed until she’d found my throbbing c**k with her slick entrance.
I held perfectly still as she manipulated my hard length inside of her.
She worked me with her swinging hips, until I’d not only forgotten where we were at in our conversation, but also my own name.
Or I would have, if she didn’t keep calling it out, her voice getting more frantic as she got close to the brink.
I was close to the edge myself when she started squeezing me harder and moaning out her release.
With a curse, I reared up, straightening behind her.
I grabbed her h*ps and started slamming my way home roughly.
She’d collapsed onto her stomach, and I’d followed her down, still inside of her, when she spoke.
“I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to miss a second of this. I know Heath won’t let you stay long.”
I’d been about a second away from passing out cold, but her words woke me right up.
“Fuck Heath,” I growled. “I’m not leaving without you. You’re coming home with me.”
CHAPTER FIVE
It was some time later. We’d showered together, then laid back down on the bed, naked, limbs entangled, when I asked, “Why on earth did he bring me here? It makes no sense. He’s clearly bothered by us being together. What is he to you?”
“I can’t tell you that. Are you upset that he did?”
“No. Of course not. That’s about the only thing I’m not upset about.”
“I’m sorry I can’t give you any answers. I know you don’t understand why.”
“You know what? You telling me that you can’t answer is better than all of the lies.”
She pulled back to look me in the eye, nodding solemnly. “I can understand that. I’ll try my best to level with you from here on out.”
“It’s just that easy, huh?”
“I don’t know. It’s going to be an adjustment for me.”
“Clearly,” I said wryly. “Why don’t we give you a little practice? How about I try asking you a question, and you actually try giving me an honest answer?”
She looked vaguely uncomfortable at the notion, but she replied with, “Okay. I’ll give you one, if it’s something I can answer.”
The perfect one came to mind instantly. “How old are you?”
She grimaced. It was adorable, and alarming. “You won’t be happy when I tell you.”
“Happier than I am right now, with you saying a thing like that. Tell me.”
She took a very deep breath. “Almost nineteen.”
I felt vaguely ill. It was too young, still legal, but way beyond my comfort zone.
“What does almost mean? So you’re eighteen?”
“Yes.”
“And when is your birthday?”