Anarchy Found (SuperAlpha, #1)(32)

“Shhh.” He laughs. And that laugh twists the whole thing around from forbidden and terrifying to reckless and tantalizing.

“I want to f*ck you in the open,” he says. “Right here under these spotlights. With all those high-society f*cks two hundred feet away, oblivious to what’s coming. All paranoid and pathetic, wondering what we’re going to do next. And if you make noise, Molly, I’ll have to drag your trembling and aching body over into the shadows and that would ruin everything.”

“Oh, God,” I say again.

“You don’t want me to ruin everything, do you?”

I shake my head as I stare up into his eyes. He grips my waist like he never wants to let go. He rocks against me, pressing me so hard up against the cold pedestal, I can feel the roughness of the stones embedded in the concrete.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he says, fisting my hair with one hand until my head jerks up. “And look at me when I f*ck you.”

I lift my leg and his other hand is there helping. I wrap myself up against the hard, defined muscles of his stomach and around his hips just as he thrusts inside me.

“Fuck,” he growls, biting my earlobe. “They’re getting closer. Two more right turns and they’re gonna find us. And if you think I’ll stop, you don’t know me very well. So come for me, Molly. Come for me and say my name in my ear as you do it.”

“What—”

“Lincoln,” he whispers. “My name is Lincoln. Say it. I need to hear you say it.”

He pounds against me. A hand finds my breast, squeezing it like we are on the verge of something. His mouth finds my neck, and he takes the soft skin between his teeth and gives it a sharp nip. I gasp and he releases, sucking replacing the bite, until I have to give in and just let it happen.

I moan his name in his ear. “Lincoln,” I say.

“Again,” he commands. “Say it again.”

“Lincoln,” I breathe. “I’m coming.”

“Again,” he says, over and over. “I want to do this again.”

“Oh, shit,” I say, waves of pleasure rolling through my body like a tsunami. My back arches, my head pushing against the hard concrete behind me, his hands roaming all over my body, like he’s desperate for more.

He pulls out, just as I realize he never got off.

“But—”

“They’re here. Ten steps away,” he says, dropping my skirts and backing off. I want to cling to him now. Cling and never let go.

But he tucks his cock away and buckles his belt as he makes a hasty backwards retreat. “Go that way,” he says, pointing to an opening in the hedge. “Right, left, two rights, and then two lefts. Find me, gun girl. I have a lot to tell you.” He turns, then turns back, grabs me by the waist and pulls me into his chest. “And Molly,” he says, his soft words and his intense stare doing amazing things to my still trembling body. “When you find me, Molly”—he hesitates and draws in a breath—“when you really find me, I’ll dress you up in pretty lingerie every night and f*ck you senseless until the end comes and takes you away.”

I feel like I might faint.

He releases me and takes off into the shadows.

The laughing couples make it into the center, but they are on the other side of the statue, so I slip into the hedge the way he pointed.

I run on the stone pavers, lifting my skirts, my lungs desperate for air as my heart pounds with each footfall. After a few minutes I find myself on the far side of the maze.

I gulp down air, wondering what the f*ck just happened. And then I make myself walk slowly so I can catch my breath. Try to process. Come to terms with what I did.

I look for him out in the courtyard in front of the maze, but he’s nowhere to be found. Not inside either, after I climb the stairs and rejoin the party. I’m just about to go find Seville and tell him to take over so I can go home, because I feel like I might collapse, when I spy Atticus Montgomery. He’s been looking for me, I can tell by his expression. He smiles and walks over, his hand outstretched.

Pull yourself together, Molly.

“Detective Masters. For a while there I thought you ditched me.”

“No, sorry,” I say, placing my hand over my still pounding heart. “I was out in the maze and got turned around.”

“Ah,” he says, eyeing me for a moment. “Well, let me calm you down with a drink. Come.” He takes my hand and leads me over to the bar where there are tables set up. “I have something to show you.”

It seems to be a recurring theme. But I let him lead me. The alpha males of Cathedral City have definitely overpowered me tonight. And I don’t have a speck of fight left in me at the moment.

Once we’re settled with drinks, Atticus leans in and says, “There’s another clue I didn’t give you.”

“What?” I look around to see if anyone is listening. “What do you mean?”

“I found something on the desk of the first suicide and I didn’t want the wrong people to see it.”

“Define the wrong people,” I say, weary of riddles and unable to think straight.

He doesn’t answer that question, just pulls out a slip of paper and places it on the table between us.

“What is it?”

“A red letter A?” he says, as if unsure.