Anything He Wants: The Betrayal(21)
His thrusts became more erratic, a sure sign he was close to coming. My tired body tightened as well, bracing for another orgasm. I felt his breath along my neck, the rough stubble on his chin scraping along one shoulder. His hand snaked between my legs and pushed the tiny vibrator in closer to my body, straight on the throbbing center of pleasure within my folds, and with a strangled moan I came yet again. Every last bit of tension drained from my body, my forehead collapsing on my arms as my body shook, skin tingling from the overabundance of ecstasy I’d had through the night.
Jeremiah collapsed over me, spent, his welcomed weight pressing me farther into the mattress. I didn’t mind at all, grateful for the contact. Eventually, he stirred and reached up to unbuckle the cuffs, freeing my wrists from the restraints. I wiggled around until I was on my back, staring up at his muscled torso. My wrists ached but I didn’t care, as I ran my hands along his hard stomach and down his arms.
He drank me in with his eyes, gaze caressing me like silk. Behind his eyes I saw deep yearning, evidence of a hidden need, and love blossomed in my heart. I tugged on his shoulders, pulling him down atop me, and he came willingly, laying across my body so I could wrap my arms around him. His warmth and hard body made my soul sing, and I closed my eyes as I caressed his back. Being free of the restraints, however, made my mind free to wander, and even though I didn’t want to dwell on events they still rose to the forefront of my mind.
A lot had happened over the last two days, but the most worrying was the investigation on Jeremiah. The government officials who’d arrived to pick up Lucas hadn’t been amused to hear he’d escaped, and they also weren’t happy to learn about the additional kidnapping drama that happened the same day. Accusations that he’d allowed his brother to escape paled in comparison to the storm created by the dead bodies. Jeremiah’s use of his private helicopter over public areas, ironically enough, was the largest issue keeping his lawyers busy. We had, at least for the moment, been absolved of the deaths both on the property and along the waterway, but the violation of restricted airspace could still be enough to land Jeremiah in jail.
Hamilton Industries had also suffered a blow when Celeste had stepped down as COO following her kidnapping. Jeremiah didn’t talk about it and I didn’t pry, but I heard enough of his one-sided phone conversations to determine that she didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark and put in danger, however indirectly. The status of the redhead’s relationship with her husband was still a mystery, but I hoped she would forgive him. Time and space had given me a little perspective: Ethan had been between a rock and a hard place, and chose to save the one thing he loved most. I hated to think what I’d do in a similar situation.
In what I considered a comical twist of fate, I was finally performing many of the duties of a personal assistant for Jeremiah, taking phone calls and messages and helping with day-to-day business activities. It surprised me how much I enjoyed the fast-paced work; Jeremiah forwarded his calls to me and I helped set up his day and keep track of who needed what. To be honest, he threw me into the deep end, sink or swim, but I needed the distraction and I think he knew that. Anytime I slowed down or finished my duties, at those times when I had a free moment to let my brain think of something besides work, I’d invariably flash to an image or memory that disturbed me: the assassin’s open wound, Anya’s body in that bag, staring down the elongated barrel of the assassin’s gun. I’d only managed to embarrass myself once by crying, but with each day the memories became easier to bear. Work, at least, allowed my brain to stay disconnected from the unpleasantness.
A hand slid beneath my head, lifting my head from its position buried in his chest. Jeremiah gazed down at me, eyes searching mine. He traced the outline of my brow, fingers light against my skin as he followed the contour of my face down along my jaw and neck. His caressed lulled me from my thoughts and I closed my eyes, giving myself over to this simple pleasure.
“You’re thinking too hard,” he murmured, his chest rumbling with the words. “Right now, I only want you to feel.”
I gave a soft sigh and opened my eyes, my thoughts pulling me out of the moment. “Are we safe?” I asked, pushing my face into his hand and kissing a knuckle. “Do you know who Anya was talking about, who the person was that convinced her to hire the assassin?”
It was a discussion we’d already had, and I knew Jeremiah was well aware of the continuing threat somewhere out there. Anya’s last words before the sniper started firing, mentioning a man she never named, was a dark cloud looming on the horizon. I could feel it casting a shadow over me, but worried more for Jeremiah. He didn’t seem to be as intent on finding the mysterious figure as he was keeping me tied to this bed. I remembered my earlier conversation with Ethan at the hospital, where the former bodyguard talked about the CEO consistently shrugging off all kinds of danger. Jeremiah had already rejected his mother as a suspect, despite the new information and the fact that she fled without a word. His nonchalance toward the potential menace bothered me, and I couldn’t tell whether it was confidence or if he was doing it for my benefit—I hoped it was the latter.