Raw Redemption (Crossing the Line #4)(68)

The only thing allowing Henrik to maintain his sanity was the plan to move tonight. To collect Ailish, retrieve what they needed from the basement safe, and get the hell out of Dodge. Any longer in this house with her in jeopardy would have been more than he could bear. Completing the mission after only two nights in the house was beyond risky. He hadn’t been given time to lull Caine into a false sense of security. But with Caine’s behavior so erratic and his newfound knowledge of Ailish’s second set of books, they were already out of time. It had to be now.

Thankfully, Henrik had watched Caine drink his weight in bourbon tonight and take several trips to his upstairs office, presumably to add cocaine to the mix. Most of his posse had followed suit, but seen fit to drive home in their identical black cars anyway. A blond woman had shown up just before Henrik went up to bed, accompanying Caine to his upstairs bedroom located one floor above Ailish. So at the very least, Caine was occupied for the time being.

One o’clock in the morning now; Henrik needed to move. He double-checked his weapon, sliding it into the inside of his jacket pocket as he strode for the door. Having already checked to make sure the door didn’t squeak, Henrik slowly eased it open—a figure stood just outside in the hallway, partially obscured by darkness. His weapon was drawn before he’d registered it was Ailish.

Both of her hands shot up as she fell back a step. “It’s me,” she whispered.

Henrik couldn’t drop the gun fast enough, his every nerve ending scorched by the tremor in her voice. He yanked her into the room with his free hand, closing the door behind her and locking it. “I told you to stay in your room.”

“I know.” She tucked a lock of stray hair behind her ear. “But I figured we would meet at midnight, and when you didn’t come, I thought maybe…”

“You thought I went without you.” He cupped the side of her face, groaning inwardly when she turned her head, those lips plumping as she kissed his wrist. “I told you I wouldn’t do that.”

Stepping past him, Ailish removed the necklace from around her neck, tucked it beneath one of the bed pillows, and returned to her place in front of him. She rolled her lips inward, restless energy drifting off her like mist. “Henrik, I don’t want anything left…open. Between us.” A frisson of unease wormed in when her meaning wasn’t entirely clear, but she stepped closer…and closer, until her tits met his stomach, forcing him to relax. Until she laid a hand on his belly, let it drift lower to settle on his belt buckle, and his dick lifted to meet her hand. “I’ve been pushing you since we got here and I want—no, I-I need—to make up for it. I don’t like knowing you eased me and I didn’t…you didn’t…”

“Come.” Lust flowed out from every corner, pushing at all the walls he’d managed to build, making his muscles flex of their own accord. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Ailish nodded, her hand trailing down even more to grasp his erection, momentarily blanking his mind. She elevated herself on tiptoes, her tongue licking around the hollow of his throat. “You need to be what I need, don’t you?” Her torturing hand slid to the base of his arousal and back up. “I need you to use me to clear your mind. Use me to ease your frustration before we go. And do what we came here for. I need the same.”

Base, original lust that meant claiming his woman couldn’t be delayed any longer. He’d stripped Ailish of her nightshirt before the impulse fully registered. The bra came next, those two candy-flavored nipples pointing up at him, begging for the kind of cheek-hollowed sucking only he would ever deliver. When he saw the shorts she’d had the audacity to wear outside of a bedroom, little sparks went off in Henrik’s palm with the need to slap her ass. Without holding back. They were black, a cross between underwear and spandex shorts, ending only a quarter-inch from where they cradled her *.

“What the f*ck are those?”

“They’re just like all my clothes.” Starting at her belly button, she trailed her index finger down to her *, sliding it between her folds. “Made for you to take off of me.”

“That might be the best answer I’ve ever gotten.” He plowed his fingers through Ailish’s hair, gripped the strands, and turned her around to face the door. “Bite your lip, baby. This is going to sting.”

Goddamn, the girl ever spread her legs like she was about to be frisked. While that idea was tempting as hell, the way her ass cheeks hung out of the bottom of those shorts demanded his full attention.

He dropped his open palm in a downward arc, glancing off her left cheek, groaning into her hair when the flesh jiggled just right. “If I wasn’t hard enough to break through steel, I’d be owning that * from behind right now.”

“When are you ever not that hard?” she said on an exhale.

“Are you back-talking me?” He twisted his fist in Ailish’s hair, laughing when she only tilted her hips and whimpered the word “more.” “I’m too hungry not to take what you’re offering, Ailish. You want to take me on hands and knees like a beggar? So be it. But you know what I want first.” Roughly, he shoved his hand into the back of her shorts, kneading her ass. “Go down on me like it’s the last time.”

As soon as his grip loosened on Ailish’s hair, she turned and fell to the floor, working the buckle of his pants with desperate fingers. His stroked the crown of her head, brushing back the red hair that kept getting in her way, chanting yes, yes, yes in a tone reminiscent of torn-up concrete. When she’d finally released his cock, Henrik’s legs almost buckled at the freedom. Christ, he’d been thick behind the fly since fingering Ailish that afternoon and he needed. Needed to be handled.