Chapter 20

It was a damn good thing I'd quit-fired my job.

I was o…v…e…r…over traveling.

Connecticut to Maryland. Maryland to Florida. Florida to Egypt and that wasn't counting my layover. Gallivanting around Egypt only to fly back to Maryland again, not including the layover. Not the first time I'd done something similar but I was happy it would be my last. Well, not my last—I still needed to find Maddon and solve that problem—but the end was near.

I thought maybe I'd feel some sort of way about hanging up my mediator coat but the only thing I felt was relief. I wanted quiet. I needed quiet.

Greece, here I come.

I was daydreaming about what my new life was going to be like and what color tassels I was going to get for my beach cruiser bicycle when I felt the bed compress next to me.

Easton.

We'd been back in Maryland three days and for three nights he'd slept next to me and three mornings I'd woken up next to him.

Three days I'd struggled.

Three days I'd been terrified but had done nothing to stop him. Not from getting into bed with me, not from fucking me, not from asking me questions or him telling me about his life.

I needed to but I knew I wasn't going to.

What I won't do is wonder why I didn't listen, because that woman in there deserves to know what it feels like to have someone care about her. Her. Not what she can do. Not mold her into what they want. Not use her for their benefit. Genuinely care about her. And if I can give that to her for a day, a week, a month, then whatever hurt she lands on me will have been worth it.

What could I say, the walls in the Luxor house had been thin. I hadn't listened to Smith and Easton's conversation on purpose but I didn't, say, go into the bathroom and get into the shower in an attempt to drown out the conversation. I was me, the mediator. Old habits die hard and I'd been taught knowledge was power.

Unfortunately in this case knowledge might be my downfall.

If I could go back to being ignorant, in this case I would.

For three days I couldn't stop thinking about what Easton had told Smith. It was selective in the sense I'd also heard what Smith had said about Black being based in Wyoming and Silver in Maryland. Not that location was an issue since I was moving to Greece. But I was ignoring the one statement in that whole conversation that, if not locked away in my brain and marked ‘do not enter!' could be cataclysmic: and then there were the lies I'd have to tell and I wasn't willing to lie to the woman I loved.

I'd spent my whole life being lied to, then as an adult learning how to master lying. I wasn't sure if I'd know what honesty looked like if it came with a label and smacked me in the face.

At this point in my life, I didn't think I was capable of telling the truth—period.

"Whatcha thinking about, baby?" Easton asked as he pushed one arm under my shoulders and used his other hand to grab my elbow to roll me into him.

This he'd done every night when he'd gotten back from taking care of the condom. After that first time, he'd used protection. And there had been seven times, not including the first.

That night in Luxor he'd come back with my grilled cheese and we sat on the bed eating—him the old, cold one, me the fresh, warm one. When we were done, he'd done exactly what he'd promised—fucked me within an inch of my life, then we showered, and he didn't leave my room.

The first night back in Maryland he took his time, fucked me breathless but not into a coma. He waited until day two to do that. Morning sex, slow and lazy. Nighttime sex, fast and wild. Same with day three. Only this afternoon he'd added a lunchtime quickie which included him eating me for desert and fucking me bent over in the kitchen since Smith had gone into the office and we had the house all to ourselves. The house being one of Zane's safehouses, though it was no longer safe in the sense it had been used twice before so it was going on the market. He was selling it, and in the process of purchasing a new one. Incidentally I was staying in the house Bridget had stayed in when she was waiting to testify and under witness protection.

I rested my cheek on his bare chest then proceeded to be stupid.

It couldn't be said I wasn't fully participating in my downfall. I totally was. Every night I snuggled into Easton like I had the right, like he was mine, and I was keeping him.

My stupidity led me to placing my hand on his abs. My after-sex coma was starting to set in, which was what I blamed the rest on.

"I was thinking about when I move to Greece I want to buy a bike. It's going to be the most girly bike on the island. I'm thinking white frame and hot pink basket on the front to carry groceries and hot, sparkly pink tassels. Though I might settle on a wicker basket because those are pretty, too."

"Come again?"

"If I can't find an island that's outlawed cars, and admittedly, I don't know if that's a thing but I hope it is because I think it would be awesome living somewhere where there are no cars. But if I can't find that, I just won't buy one."

"No, baby, back up. You're moving to Greece?"

"Yep. Right after I slit Maddon's throat."

I hadn't been paying attention so I couldn't be sure when it happened exactly but Easton's body had gone solid.

My desire to kill Maddon wasn't a secret nor was my skill to get the job done.

"You know I've—"

"When were you planning on telling me you're moving to Greece?"

Um…

"Or were you just planning on up and disappearing."

That sounded more like an accusation than a question.

My temper simmered just under the boiling over point.

"I didn't know my future living arrangements were your business," I snapped.

"Christ," he growled.

I wasn't a fan of the irritated growl, which was a thousand times different than the sexy, turned-on growl he did when I was getting close to climax and he was coaxing it out of me.

One never failed to make me detonate, the other I could do without.

I'll let you guess which was which.

"Christ, what?"

"Christ, we're starting back at square one. We've had three days, I thought we were making at least a little progress. Now I see we haven't inched out of the starting box yet."

What the hell was he going on about?

"I think you get I'm into you," he unhappily snarled.

Oh, shit.

Nope.

I didn't want to talk about this. I'd been able to avoid all talk about anything that remotely touched on me and him for three days. Not that we had much time to talk about anything other than Maddon. We'd (and that included Smith) gone through everything I had on the man, and that was extensive, so it had taken a long time. We'd (again with Smith) talked out scenarios and motives. We'd had copious calls with Layla and Kira and one with Zane. Today, Smith had gone into the office, tomorrow, we all would. The only reason I'd hung back was because Zane was being cautious and wanted a few days of footage outside of the office to make sure no one was doing drive-bys looking for me. After all, there was a bounty out on me. Not that I thought Maddon would have that executed while I was in the US. It would be too risky. Outside the US, especially in Asia, the Middle East, or Africa, it would be easy. Maddon was a risk-taker but a calculated one.

Unfortunately it seemed like my good fortune had run out.

"Easton—"

"No, Nebraska. Just no."

Warning…Boiling point!

I pushed off Easton's chest. He swiftly yanked me back to where I was.

"You're not doing that either."

What happened when a nuclear reactor overheated? Whatever that reaction was, I was close to it. Dangerously close to a full meltdown.

"Easton—"

"Nope," he denied. "Before you retreat and shut down, think."

Oh, I was thinking all right—of ways I could kill him in his sleep.

"What am I thinking about other than how big of a dick you are?"

Easton's arm went super tight around me. He shifted me higher, bringing me closer to his face.

It was dark in the bedroom, as in pitch black, so I couldn't see him—not at all. But I didn't need to see him; I couldn't miss the waves of hostility rolling off him.

"Warned you what was gonna happen the next time you called me a dick. Three good days, baby. Three nights where I got you to moan sweet for me, get so fucking wild I got claw marks on my back to prove how into it you are. Three nights I go to sleep with you cuddling into me. Not next to me, Nebraska, cuddled close. Holding on. I thought you were coming to the understanding not only am I into you but you're coming to mean something to me. So I'll ask you again: when were you going to tell me you were moving to Greece?"

I don't know how he did it in the dark, but somehow, his fingers found my lips and stopped me from answering right away.

"But before you answer, remember as soon as the last of your answer comes out of that pretty mouth of yours, you're on your knees and you'll be taking my big dick and you'll be doing that with my marks on your ass."

Perhaps a smart woman would've taken Easton's threat, rolled out of bed, and flipped him the bird on her way out the door. As noted, I was stupidly participating in this game. As such my pussy spasmed at the reminder.

Since I was neither smart, nor was I going to roll out of bed without a fight, I let my temper off the chain and shoveled shit right back.

"I wasn't going to tell you. Seeing as I don't feel I need to explain my travel plans with the man I'm fucking."

Mistake.

Huge.

So big, days later I would still be ruminating how big of a mistake calling Easton "the man I was fucking" was. It was worse, way worse, whole nother universe worse than calling him a dick.

The first thing that happened was his mouth slammed down onto mine. Foolishly I opened, then more foolishness happened when I moaned as the heat of his kiss seared through me.

What could I say? Easton was that good of a kisser.

Moaning turned into groaning when his hand went up my shirt. He expertly found my breast then just as expertly rolled my nipple until I started panting.

Easton was the best; a master at all things my body, and he'd touched and tasted and teased enough to know exactly what my response meant.

He tore his mouth from mine and irately asked, "Does that feel like fucking?"

I was in an Easton-induced fog so I couldn't answer. Not that I had time before he rolled up, taking me with him. He yanked my shirt up and tossed it away before I was once again on my back, and he was tearing my undies down my legs. This all happened within seconds.

The next thing I knew he'd hauled me up and twisted me. I was on my hands and knees, and his hands were on my ass.

"You got a sweet ass, baby. It's gonna look even sweeter with my handprint."

I braced for a smack that never came. This meant I was unprepared when his hand went between my legs.

"Drenched."

He sounded pleased, which in turn made my breasts heavy and my nipples pebble.

Two thick fingers slid through my excitement. Not one to start slow (except for morning sex which was slow and lazy start to finish) Easton set the pace he intended to keep. That meant his intrusion was about building my climax as quickly as possible.

I was well on my way when I whimpered, "Easton."

I lost his fingers when he curled over me. His mouth went to my ear when he growled in the way that I super-duper liked, "Does that feel like fucking?"

Again I was too far gone to answer.

But if I hadn't been, the answer would've been no.

"What about this, baby?" he asked as he rubbed the head of his dick through my wet and used it to circle my clit. "Does this feel like fucking?"

It didn't, it felt glorious.

"Honey," I moaned.

He slammed inside me. As he was prone to do, Easton wasted no time making his point.

Deep. Wild. Rough.

I slid straight to mindlessness.

The world vanished.

It was me and Easton.

It was Easton covering me. The scent of him. The safety of his arms. The feel of his dick. My body heating and getting hotter by the second. My breasts. My pussy convulsing. My clit throbbing.

Just me and him.

Just that.

Us.

"What about now, baby, does this feel like just fucking?"

I didn't know what this was beyond an otherworldly connection I was too terrified to think about, much less admit.

I shook my head and reared back, needing more.

"Answer me, and I'll give you what you need."

Of course he knew what I needed. It was him who'd shown me. He was the one and only person who I'd ever felt safe enough with to take what I needed.

"No."

"Goddamn right," he snarled.

His hand glided from my hip to my belly then straight between my legs, and he hit his target. Instead of his brilliant fingers rolling, he pinched.

My neck craned back and I let out my shocked mewl.

"Can you take more?"

I could take anything from Easton.

"Yes," I hissed my encouragement even though I didn't know what more was.

His chest left my back. His fingers pinched and pulled at my clit then gave a smack to my ass. The sting made me jump in surprise before it morphed into something else and I moaned through the pleasure as it swept over me.

"Fuck yeah," he groaned and slowed his thrusts. "More?"

"Yes."

Another slap, this one harder.

The surprise was absent but the heat spread faster. It pooled in my belly, it coated my skin, it left me needing. Wanting. So close to the edge of ecstasy I was willing to beg to get more.

"More."

He didn't give me more, at least not another swat.

His drives became harder but slower. His fingers between my legs no longer pinching but toying. He was driving me crazy. Out-of-my-mind insanely crazy. So much so I dropped my top half to the bed, reached down, slapped his hand out of the way, and found my clit. Without his expertise it wasn't the same. I was reaching, trying to get myself there.

"Easton."

It was a plea. I was almost there but I couldn't do it. I needed him.

"Tip your ass just a little more, baby."

I tipped.

My reward was a sharp, stinging slap to my ass.

I flew apart.

Broke into a million pieces and floated off into oblivion.

All I could feel was us.

Me and Easton.

When I came back to myself his lips were gently brushing over where he spanked me. I stayed perfectly still, too afraid if I moved he'd stop.

"You good?"

"Yeah." I smiled.

I was positive it was a drunken smile and not just because my "yeah" was slurred. I felt sloshed, like that time Stella plied me with wine to get her intel.

Easton's lips left my behind and skimmed up my back, pausing only to press a few small kisses here and there. Then he twisted to his side, taking me with him so my back was to his front, and he molded himself around me.

Nice.

It was then I felt it, or actually didn't feel what I thought I'd feel against my butt when he pulled me tight.

"What about…"

Nope. I couldn't ask. Not even after all he'd done to me, that now included him spanking me, could I find a way past my embarrassment to ask if he was going to finish.

"What about what?" he asked softly.

When I still didn't answer he gave me a squeeze.

How was it, I could sit down with mob bosses and negotiate territory knowing that each and every person in the room was armed and dangerous and I could end up riddled full of bullets at one wrong move, but I couldn't ask why he was cuddling with me and no longer hard?

Instead of verbalizing my question I wiggled my ass into his groin.

"Greedy," he murmured into my hair.

"Greedy?"

"Baby, I had a sweet orgasm not even an hour ago and pulled three from you. Just rode you hard, pulled another out of you, which I have to say was way fucking sweeter than the first three if the way your pussy was clutching at my dick is anything to go by, or the way you were leaking down my balls. Just came harder than I've ever come in my life. You want more, I'm happy to oblige, but I'm gonna need a few minutes to rally."

Ohmigod.

He thought I wanted more.

"It wasn't three, it was two," I shared.

Though it possibly wasn't the truth. I either had three or one of them was just really long.

"Baby, it was three. You don't think I can feel you when you come?"

Wait.

What?

"You can feel it?"

I felt him start to shake.

Was he laughing?

"Yeah, I can feel it."

"Are you laughing?"

"Shit yeah."

And he was. Not only was his body shaking, his voice was vibrating with hilarity, and it had now become audible.

I wasn't sure how I felt about this.

Oh, wait, I did know.

"I don't think I like you laughing at me."

Suddenly I was rolled onto my back and Easton was mostly on top of me.

"I'm not laughing at you."

All humor was gone. He sounded as serious as a heart attack.

"I would never laugh at you, not for any reason, but especially when we're in this bed. I told you, you're safe with me and I fucking mean that."

I knew he meant that. He'd spent three days tirelessly—one could even say, diligently—proving I was safe with him.

"Okay," I whispered.

"I think it's cute as hell, you have no clue I can feel it when you orgasm."

"How would I know that?"

"You can't feel it when you play with yourself?"

Heat hit my cheeks, spread to my chest, then proceeded to singe my insides.

Thank God it was dark in the room.

"Baby?" he prompted.

"I've…never…I don't…I mean I've tried but I can't. So I don't."

"You don't what?"

Gawd. Embarrassing.

"Can we please not talk about this or say anything and just go to sleep?"

"Why don't you want to talk about this?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"I've been inside you," he murmured softly. "I've had my tongue in your pussy. I've kissed and licked almost every inch of you."

This was all true. But I didn't see what that had to do with anything.

"So? Some stuff is private."

"Not between us."

He dipped his face and somehow, like the superhero I was starting to believe he was, his lips hit mine on the first try.

"You're lying there with my mark on your ass, my come up your cunt, and I got more nail marks on my back then I can count. Yesterday I had you on your knees in the shower, my dick in your mouth, while you let me fuck your face and you swallowed me. Tell me, baby, with all of that, what's private when it comes to us?"

Us.

"You're crass, Easton Spears."

"And you're deflecting, Nebraska Michaels."

I hated that he had a ready comeback for everything.

"Fine. No, I don't play with myself. I tried, but I couldn't do it. It was worse than sex because I couldn't even get to the buildup part that at least feels okayish even if it doesn't culminate to the good stuff."

"The good stuff?"

"Climax."

As soon as I spat the word Easton went stiff but he immediately relaxed and gave me another lip touch.

"No other way to explain this to you without being crass, baby, so buckle up for real talk."

I didn't think I wanted real talk. I wanted real quiet and bedtime.

Easton didn't give me the chance to tell him this or to buckle up before he launched in.

"You are unbelievably fucking tight. When you're close you get tighter and wetter. But fuck, baby, when you come you squeeze my dick so tight I gotta fight the urge to join you, you feel so fucking good. Does that answer your question?"

"Um…yes."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

He kissed my forehead then rolled, bringing us back to me on his chest, cuddling in.

"Now, back to the beginning. You having a question I now get you were too embarrassed to ask."

"You're like a dog with a bone."

"No, what I'm like is a man who has a woman in his bed who he cares about and wants her to understand she can ask or say anything without embarrassment. I'm also a man who just learned his woman never had an orgasm, self-induced or otherwise…that is, until me. I'm feeling pretty fucking happy about that even if it makes me a dick. So to make up for being an asshole I'm feeling the need to give her another one. So, if you'll hurry up and ask what you were too embarrassed to ask, I'd like to get down to business giving my girl the good stuff."

A man who has a woman in his bed who he cares about.

His woman.

My girl.

The good stuff.

I clenched my thighs.

Damn, I was greedy.

"I don't have any other questions," I blurted out, uncaring if I sounded eager.

Easton was really good at the good stuff.

And other stuff besides.

If I didn't smarten up quick, I'd do the unthinkable and start to fall in love with a man who was far too good for me.

"I did all the work the last two goes. I want you on top this time."

I could do that.

Totally.