Grim Shadows

TWENTY-THREE

HE DIDN’T HAVE TO talk her into riding on the back of Lulu again. It felt good to have her arms around him, but he would’ve given anything to be in the darkened backseat of a taxicab instead. And the torturous wait didn’t end once they got to her apartment building, where tenants were coming and going and chatting in the lobby. They hurried into the elevator, only to be forced to make small talk with the elevator man. By the time they made it inside her apartment, Lowe had adopted her counting technique.

He couldn’t lock the door behind them fast enough.

“Please tell me there’s no maid getting ready for bed in another room,” he said, shrugging out of his outer garments while she did the same.

She smiled nervously. “No maid.”

“No maid coming later?”

She shook her head, backing farther into the darkened apartment.

Thank God. “Where are you going?”

“It’s warmer back here.”

He paused mid-step, his eyes nearly fluttering shut with anticipation. He followed the sway of her hips through a hallway into a room that was warmer in both temperature and color. Dusky rose covered the windows and floors. Her black cat lounged on a pile of crumpled clothes in the corner, his tail lazily switching as he yawned at his owner in greeting.

“Sorry,” Hadley mumbled as she turned on a stained-glass dragonfly lamp. “No maid.”

Well, well. He rather liked seeing her messy. His gaze fell to the unmade bed, and alongside it, a wide vase of lilies sat on her nightstand, all different sizes and shapes and colors. His lilies: the ribbons were still tied to the stems.

It was all he could do not to grin like an idiot.

She untied the scarf around her head and dropped it on the bed. They stared at each other for several beats. Gone was the smiling confidence he’d held in his arms on the speakeasy dance floor. She looked wary now. A hand flattened over her stomach, as if she were trying to tame her nerves.

She was distressed.

Not exactly what a man wanted to realize while he stood in a woman’s bedroom. But what did he expect—that a few minutes in his lap a week ago would wipe away years of aversion? Sad thing was, he stupidly hoped it had. And something base inside him saw her unguarded and fragile, and it wanted nothing more than to rip off her clothes, throw her across the bed, and sink inside her.

What little blood was left in his brain whispered that this might not be the best approach.

Hadley was a prickly cactus. He could take his time to slowly, delicately find his way between her defensive spines. Or he could craftily trick her into shedding the spines on her own.

He crooked a finger. “Come here.”

She hesitated, then closed the distance between them, stopping a foot away.

“This is what we’re going to do,” he said, removing his suit jacket. “I’m going to take off every stitch of clothing.” He hung the jacket on the metal footboard of her bed and watched her eyes following its path. “And you get to keep your clothes on”—he slid a glance over her breasts—“for now. But only if you help me undress.”

She made a small noise, looking him over as if his clothes were an unsolvable puzzle.

He unfastened a cuff link and dropped it in his pants pocket. “You’ll be touching me while I keep my hands to myself. You’re still in control.” She absolutely wasn’t, and he hoped like hell she wouldn’t notice. Like a cardsharp using sleight of hand to trick his mark, he added a little misdirection. “Now, I’m going to remove everything above my waist while you take off my boots. Whoever finishes last has to take care of my pants.”

Her wide eyes fell to his bulging fly.

Suppressing a smile, he dropped the other cuff link in his pocket. “You’d better hurry,” he warned, tapping heel against toe. “These things are a bitch to unlace.”

Without a word, she crouched at his feet, dark head bent just south of where he wanted it, and untied the long bow at the top of his right boot. Then her fingers raced to loosen the crossed laces, from knee to ankle. Each pluck reverberated through his bones and sent muted thumps of pleasure through his tightening balls.

He nearly forgot they were racing. Vest, tie tack, necktie . . . he practically ripped them all off before yanking his shirt out of his pants.

Glancing up, she whined and frantically wiggled the boot’s heel. He curled his toes to impede her progress. “No fair!” she said, breathless, before tugging the leather off with a grunt and nearly falling backward.

“Told you they wouldn’t be easy,” he said with a chuckle.

Undeterred, she quickly loosened the second set of laces. My, she was motivated. But so was he. A shortcut made quick work of his shirt—once the first four buttons were unfastened, he easily slid the linen over his head while she wiggled the second heel.

“Socks, too.”

“That’s cheating!” she said, yanking the boot free and tossing it to the side with a thunk.

“Socks, Hadley,” he insisted.

She cursed under her breath but began stripping his socks off. He reached over his shoulder and waited until she believed she still had a chance to win before pulling off his undershirt in one smooth movement. “So sorry, min käraste. You lose.”

“You’re not sorry at all,” she said, throwing down the second sock as she pushed herself to her feet.

He clucked his tongue and pushed disheveled hair out of his eyes. “Don’t be a sore loser.”

Her blinking gaze flicked over his chest. She blew out a long breath and stepped closer. He inhaled the scent of her hair while they both stared down at the space between them. Slender fingers unbuckled and pulled his belt free from the belt loops, one by one. His curved dagger and its leather sheath slid free into his waiting palm.

Determined, she unbuttoned his fly, each tug of her fingers exquisite torture. Christ, he was harder than a brickbat. When she let his pants fall to the floor and hesitated, he took pity on her, tucking his thumbs into the waist of his shorts to spring his proud erection. Her little gasp and the accompanying scarlet blush that bloomed over her face made him want to throw his hands up in victory.

“Good God,” she murmured.

“It’s one of my better features,” he teased. Bet George didn’t have half of this. He wanted to ask, but didn’t want the bastard’s name floating around her bedroom. She already had enough baggage, and he wanted to deal with that first. “C’mere.”

“Lowe . . .”

Ignoring her weak protests, he gathered her in his arms and pulled her down to the rose-covered rug until she straddled him while he lay on his back. “Pin me down,” he said, throwing his hands over his head in surrender.

“What—oh . . .” She slanted him an irritated look. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Then humor me. Pin me down. Go on.”

Hesitantly, she stretched out and bowed over him. The black beads of her long necklace cascaded against his chest as her hands pinned his to the rug. Sweet Jesus, her body felt good on his. Her face hovered over his, strands of her bobbed hair tickling his cheeks with every hard inhalation of breath. Stockinged knees pressed against his outer thighs. It took every ounce of control he had not to pull her against him and roll her onto her back.

“Most interesting,” he murmured in a voice that sounded shakier than he intended. “What does it feel like to hold down a man twice your size?”

“You’re letting me.”

“Pretend I’m not. What would you do next?”

“This is silly.”

“Is it?” He slowly thrust his hips toward the thighs arching above him.

She groaned. He closed his eyes and waited, listening to her quickening breath. After a long moment, he felt warmth on his forehead. Her lips, kissing him. Once, then twice, on his eyebrow. And as she kissed a slow path from his temple to his jaw, chills raced over his skin. She picked up speed and confidence, opening her mouth against the frantic pulse on his neck, swiping a hesitant tongue over his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

Keeping a grip on his arms, she slid lower and pressed kisses on his chest. Did she know what she was doing? Because, for a moment, he couldn’t figure out who was the manipulator. Her lips grazed his nipple, almost seemingly accidentally. Pleasure rocketed straight to his balls. Now he was the one groaning. And when her kiss gained suction—God!—his tenuous restraint eroded. Again, he thrust his hips upward, and this time his cock rubbed against the silk between her legs—this time she squirmed and pushed back.

Out of nowhere, a familiar pressure gathered at the base of his spine.

Shit.

It was all too much. Far too long since he’d had a woman. He might’ve been able to hold out if it was anyone else but Hadley. But he’d never wanted anything so badly and his body was going haywire. Somewhere God was laughing as he cruelly took away all of Lowe’s willpower and turned him back into a fifteen-year-old boy who was on the verge of coming in his pants when the wind gusted.

“You’re killing me,” he whispered. “I’m not going to last. You’ve got to give me relief.” His hips thrust on their own accord now. It was nearly painful. “Please.”

Just as he was about to break free of her grip and take care of himself, she released one arm and slid her hand between them. He pushed himself into her palm and her slender fingers circled. Absolute bliss. One uneven pump of her hand and his hips lifted off the rug. A second, and he was struggling for breath. Two more and the floor fell away. He came, quickly, violently, as he spilled onto his stomach and the front of her dress.

His head lolled against the floor as he closed his eyes, reeling with relief and regret. If he was attempting to cure her touching phobia, he was fairly certain this wasn’t the way to go about it. “Sorry,” he mumbled as she released him. “I’m normally not this eager.”

A rustling movement tore him out of his thoughts. Soft fabric brushed his stomach. Was she cleaning him up? Before he could analyze this too closely, her warm touch disappeared.

He cracked open an eye to see Hadley straddling above him on her knees as the inner lining of her black dress glided over her shoulders. She tossed the dress aside and shook her hair out, breathing hard. Bare arms. Bare thighs, banded by ribbon-adorned black garters. And in the middle, a golden silk step-in chemise—so fine, he could see right through to her nipples and the dark triangle of hair between her thighs.

The chemise’s loose legs were embroidered with a field of alternating lotus flowers and fanning papyrus stalks. And over the tops of her breasts stretched the green and blue winged figure of Maat, Egyptian goddess of balance and truth.

Hadley shyly smiled down at him and he wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t died and ascended to some sort of heaven.

• • •

Hadley held her breath as Lowe’s gaze raked over the chemise. It was Madame Dubois’s finest embroidery work, and Hadley had sighed blissfully when she’d picked it up that afternoon. Silly, but she couldn’t curb the careening hope that he’d like it just as much.

“O-oh,” Lowe moaned, rising up on his elbows. Half of her wanted to cover herself up. The other half wanted him to put his hands everywhere his heavy gaze roamed. He pushed himself up until she was forced to sit back on his thighs. “Vacker. So beautiful—my God, Hadley.” His knuckles grazed her clavicle and stroked over the embroidered neck of the chemise, sending goose bumps down her arms. Thick blond eyelashes fanned over blue eyes as he blinked. His voice was low and gravelly. “Can I please touch you now? I need to touch you. I have to touch you.”

“Yes,” she said, gaining confidence. “Definitely yes.”

A heavy arm slung around her waist, and with a grunt, he pushed himself off the floor, hauling her with him as he stood. He set her on wobbly feet. “Steady, now.” Two big hands swiveled her around to face her bed.

“What—” She twisted around to see him ogling the embroidered papyrus fans that curved over her backside.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled. His willpower seemed to snap. One moment he was in a daze, and the next, his hands were all over her, sliding beneath the loose legs of her step-in chemise to palm her ass, igniting a thousand sparks across her skin. He kneeled behind her, talking more to himself than her. “These have to go.”

He lifted her foot and unbuckled the T-bar strap of one Mary Jane pump, forcing her to grasp a rail of the metal footboard for balance. The other quickly followed. Warm fingers pushed down her garters before circling her thigh to roll a stocking down. Shocking wet heat followed the stocking’s path down her leg—his mouth on the back of her thigh. Down, down, until he licked the sensitive hollow behind her knee.

The second stocking went twice as fast. He seemed to be racing her quickening pulse. She felt him stand behind her before he tugged golden straps down her arms. Silk whispered across her skin as the chemise fell, puddling at her feet.

She was naked. Utterly, completely naked. Her bare skin on display to his hungry gaze. Never had anyone seen her this exposed—not since the incident. Not even George; their brief encounters had been in the dark, beneath the cover of her skirt.

A powerful shudder went through her.

“Shh,” he whispered. Heavy heat prodded her lower back. Good God! Already? Her mind flashed back to the night they met and the shock of his erection pressing against her on the back of the moving train . . . and the ensuing panic she’d felt at the shocking intimacy.

“It’s only me,” he whispered against her ear. “Just me.”

She stilled, bracing for the inevitable cringe as his arms wound around her. Tonight she was ready to fight that feeling. To count it away, or drown it in liquor again if she had to. But—

But it didn’t come. Not even when he pulled her tight against the solid muscle of his chest, bare skin against skin. Or when his wet mouth opened against the side of her throat.

This time, she didn’t feel the panic that blackened her senses and stole her free will.

This time, she felt . . .

Safe.

Her body sagged in relief.

She spun in his arms as unshed tears stung her eyes. His mouth crushed against hers, and he kissed her like he was bound for the gallows and she was his last hope for salvation. His hands were suddenly everywhere, all at once, a whirlwind of heat and sensation, sending pleasurable chills over her skin. He pushed her back on the mattress a second before he bent his head to her breast. No soft kisses. No teasing. He just sucked her nipple into his mouth and pulled. Lightning shot down her center, electrifying her with an intense bolt of lust.

He released her flesh with a wet pop and moved his attention to her other breast. She cried out and scissored her legs together in an attempt to get relief from the building ache between her thighs. She was embarrassingly wet, wantonly rubbing herself against his erection . . . drowning in want and a startling neediness. She tried to calm herself down, but some animalistic part of her wasn’t willing. Her legs fell apart around his. His long middle finger parted her damp curls. She jerked and writhed against him.

“You’re so wet. Jesus, Hadley.” Wonder coated his words as he whispered, “You want me.”

More than anything. She moaned, half-ashamed as his hand ran through the slickness that coated her inner thighs. Half-amazed, too. She’d never been so aroused. When his thumb circled her clitoris, she felt a tickling warmth as pooling liquid trickled down her flesh.

Lowe groaned, a rich baritone rumble she felt through her bones. She couldn’t stop her plea from jumping overboard. “Please, Lowe. God, now. Please.”

He immediately pulled away. Where was he going?

She lifted her head to see him reaching for his suit jacket that hung on her bedpost. He fumbled for a small tin and flung the quickly discarded lid on her coverlet—where Hadley caught a glimpse of its printed front, a chariot drawn by a pair of racing lions.

Oh.

Interesting. She’d never seen any in person. She wanted to tell him that she’d followed a new method of counting the days in her cycle. That they should be in the clear. Instead, she found herself caught in a fascinated daze as she watched him retrieve a ring of latex and unroll it down his length. Good grief. He could sell tickets to this show—every hot-blooded girl in town would pay to see such a spectacle. If he’d felt impossibly thick and heavy in her hand minutes ago, he looked even more intimidating now. She didn’t know whether to be worried or impressed.

Impressed, her body decided, as another wave of need warmed her aching sex.

His shadow fell as his body covered hers again, warm and strong and big. A welcome weight. His maimed hand pushed one arm above her head, like she’d pinned him moments before. “It’s only me,” he said again, kissing her bottom lip. Their fingers threaded together as he prodded her legs apart, making room between her thighs for his hips. He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ve never wanted anyone so badly. Never. My God, Hadley. Tell me you want me inside you.”

“Yes.” She could barely speak.

“Tell me.” He guided her free hand to hook around his neck and shifted his weight to his forearms. Back bowed, he pushed himself against her entrance, a teasing pressure that made her want to writhe beneath him. “Say it.”

“I want you—”

He plunged inside her before she could finish. One punishing stroke, no quarter. She cried out, digging her nails into his neck, shocked by the near-painful intrusion.

“Don’t move,” he said sharply as his muscles strained.

She didn’t. Couldn’t. All she could do was hold her breath. One, two, three . . . Her body relaxed. He groaned and pulled back—no!—before pushing into her again, more slowly. Terribly slow. Perfectly slow. Slow enough to make her squeeze her eyes shut as desire rolled through her.

“Yes?” he murmured.

“Lowe,” she answered.

He kissed her and she let go, giving in to the feel of his hips driving against hers and the beautiful friction that whorled between them where their bodies were joined. Her free hand roamed over his warm skin, exploring, delighting in the hard lines of his shoulders and back. The way he shivered beneath her touch when her nails swept down his side.

She stretched out below him, lifting her knees to invite him deeper. They both groaned as her muscles tightened around him. She gasped and shifted her hips, testing the angle until she felt the brush of his wiry curls teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves pulsing in her clitoris.

So much pleasure. Enough to erase years of martyrdom. Every fear, every worry, every night she’d spent alone, wondering if there was nothing more—it was all gone. Swept away. She felt warm tears streaming down her temples as joy caught in her throat.

“Hadley.”

“It’s so good,” she said dumbly.

“This is how it’s supposed to be,” he murmured, kissing her eyes. “This is what I’ve wanted.” His lips pressed against hers and she tasted salt.

Me, too, she thought. And so badly.

Never expect anything and you’ll never be disappointed. She told herself if this was all there was—this closeness, this dismantling of her phobia, this fuzzy pleasure—that it would be enough.

But it wasn’t.

Never mind that she’d had sex with George a handful of times and never once had an orgasm. Or that she hadn’t so much as kissed another man in years. None of that mattered. She suddenly wanted it all, and she wanted it with Lowe. Right now. How easily he’d come apart earlier beneath her inexperienced hand. No shame, no struggle. Just total abandon and trust. She wanted that, too. And when her body greedily fisted around him again, that want intensified into something more than determination.

“Goddamn,” Lowe murmured. “Yes, min älskling, ja.”

O-oh. Oh!

This is really happening.

Urgently needing an anchor, her free hand clung to his straining biceps as her toes curled, bobbing above the increasing pace of his pumping hips.

Sweat beaded on his brow. His fingers tightened around the hand he held captive above her head while he pinned her to the mattress below. She was so close. And so very desperate for it. And within the span of two heartbeats, there was no stopping. A horde of people could burst in the door and she wouldn’t be able to muster enough shame to halt it. She was gone. Lost. Racing toward oblivion and uncertainty and a gathering darkness that threatened to swallow her whole, if she was willing to dive into it.

And she was. God, she was!

The climax ripped through her like a summer storm, jerking a long, carnal cry from her lungs. She came endlessly, pleasure tumbling and shaking and squeezing her until she couldn’t breathe. Until she thought she might die from it. Until she felt Lowe’s body seize and heard his answering roar as he came inside her. He sounded just as lost and bewildered as she felt. And as he collapsed against her, she threw her arms around his neck, curled her legs around his hips, and pulled him down with her.