Skin Tight

CHAPTER 22

The rug was soft beneath Mia’s bare belly.

Søren held her arms outstretched at her sides. If she was unwilling, she wouldn’t raise her hips for him. She came up on her knees, chest flat on the floor. He wrenched her thighs open, showing her how he wanted her. It was incredibly arousing to hear his harsh, labored breaths as he positioned himself behind her, but his heat threatened to ignite her utterly, leaving her no mind with which to appreciate his abandon.

There was no tenderness in him now, no delicacy. With one rough thrust, he took her with the fury of a man too often alone, desires too often denied. She should have felt vulnerable, and yet she felt as if she owned him, as if her slightest whisper could break him wide open.

“Mia. Mia, I need this,” he growled, sounding angry about it. “I need you.”

“Take me,” she whispered, but she had the oddest feeling it was she who took him.

The sex that time was savage. He was less focused on her pleasure, more centered on exorcising personal demons. They fired his ferocity, driving his thrusts, but she found it easy to lose herself in the storm of his desire.

Later, she lay in Søren’s arms.

He’d gotten easier with touching, more accustomed to affection. At least he no longer recoiled when she reached for him. To her surprise, he was the most patient lover she’d ever known. This anomaly aside, he spent hours nuzzling the curve of her throat, appearing to luxuriate in the feel of her skin. He kissed as if he had nothing else to do for the rest of his life: slow, drugging kisses, where his lips played with hers until she went boneless.

He had just lifted his head from one such kiss, and his gray gaze glittered as he gazed down at her. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“A little alarming.”

“How come?”

His eyes answered where his lips would not: I need you, and I don’t want to. As if he could not help himself, he kissed her again, this time fiercely. By the time he pulled back, she was panting, her peace supplanted with sexual arousal. With him, it only took a touch or a look and she was ready to do the wickedest things.

“I love your mouth.” Feather light, he brushed her lips with his fingertips, tracing the contours. “After.”

“After you’ve made it red, wet, and swollen. A wanton mouth.”

He sucked in a breath. “Yes.”

“You’re not as civilized as you pretend.”

“I’m not civilized at all. You’d do well to remember that.”

“How can I forget?” Mia flexed her fingers, looking at the faint marks that encircled her wrists. “You lost control completely.”

“You drove me to it.”

So she had. Remembered power surged through her. Driving this disciplined man past restraint-when he had borne so much-made her a little crazy. Reckless.

“And you took me on the floor like an animal.”

He caught her hand. “Stop. Or I might do it again.”

“That’s supposed to be an inducement to stop?”

She wished she knew more about him. The bits and pieces she’d gleaned elsewhere didn’t encompass the whole. If she could put all the pieces together, then-

Maybe I can learn how to love him. Søren wasn’t like other men; this, she understood instinctively. It was miraculous she’d come this far, blindly. His lover.

Søren laughed. “You make a good point.”

There would never be a better moment to broach this subject. “Can I ask you something?”

“I think you just did.”

“Another something.”

Wariness pervaded his voice. “What?”

“How did they come to take Lexie from you? You said they injected you through a free vaccination.”

“That’s not something I talk about.” Ever, his tone implied.

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe you should mind your own business.”

“You are my business,” she bit out, exasperated.

“Why in the hell would you think that?”

It was now or never. She could spend the rest of her life wondering what would’ve happened if she’d been brave enough, or she could be brave.

“Because I love you.” The words dropped into the silence like stones into a still pond.

“Love me?” He spat the two words as if they were poisoned meat. “You don’t have any idea who I am.”

Søren pushed her away and sprang to his feet. If the cabin were larger, surely he’d be pacing. Instead, he took a position at the window, shutting her out with a turn of his back. She’d expected as much.

“So tell me.”

“Obviously, sex was a bad idea,” he said, ignoring that. “You’re not sophisticated enough to separate physical pleasure from emotional attachment.”

“As if you are,” she returned. “You sniff my hair when you think I’m asleep. I sense you watching me all the time. You’re worried and committed to protecting me. Did you really think I hadn’t noticed? I’m clever, remember? Give me a column of numbers to add, and I’ll prove it.”

“I will not argue this with you.”

“Of course not. Anger is an emotion, too. And you’re not supposed to have any. You’re dead, after all. You died when you lost your little girl.”

He whirled on her then, eyes blazing feral silver. “Do not speak. Not one more word. You don’t understand. You can’t.”

Mia pushed to her feet as well, knowing that provoking him would be a calculated risk. He might not forgive her what came next. “No, I don’t, because I’ve never lost a child. I have lost my father, who loved me better than my mother, who insisted on custody out of spite. I know what it’s like to miss someone. I can’t know more because you won’t tell me. Because you’re just a sad shell of a man who eats and fucks. Right?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Right.”

“Nothing matters more than repaying those who hurt you. So what does it matter if you leave me dying in your wake?” Push, push, push. With each word, she could see him teetering closer to the edge. Hating herself, Mia went on ruthlessly, “Someone like you doesn’t build. What good ever came of you? You only destroy: lives, dreams, hearts. You’re nothing but a human tsunami.”

She knew she was right by his stricken, furious look. Her acuity could be targeted elsewhere, not just on numbers, and now she’d drawn the poison of his silent self hate. Nothing he would ever speak aloud, and so she told it to him in all its darkness.

“Ah,” he said. “It appears you do know me. And what does that make you, Mia? That you could profess to love such a creature?”

“It makes me human.”

But he didn’t seem to hear her. “You want the truth?” At her nod, he smashed a kerosene lamp to the floor. “Fine, since you have no illusions to shatter. Out of pride, I suppose, I wanted to spare you this, but you see me clearer than I’d realized. I always knew you were too damned smart. They performed no experiments on Lexie. I did that to her.” In a flat voice, he related events that left Mia weak-kneed with regret.

No wonder. No wonder the guilt. No wonder he couldn’t stop. Deep down, he blamed himself, and suicide had already failed. Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She would be stronger than that. She had to be, for his sake.

“Accidents happen,” she said quietly. “They happen to parents without any special ability. How do you know your gift had anything to do with it? Did she stop and look before she crossed the road?”

“She saw only me.”

“But if she had looked, perhaps she would’ve seen the car as well as the illusionary ice cream. I know you don’t have perfect control, but why in the world would you want to hide a car from her?”

“I don’t have anything to do with it. I can’t construct other people’s base expectations. I’ve simply learned to shift them to my advantage via my movements, behavior, and wardrobe. So if she expected the street to be clear and I was nearby, then that’s what she saw.”

Mia thought she might be getting somewhere. She couldn’t falter now, so she steeled herself to the misery that lay beneath his anger. “Why would she have any expectations at all regarding the road?”

His first hesitation. “I don’t know.”

“So you concede that she might’ve seen the car, if she had stopped to look. Søren, I’m so sorry for your loss, I am, but it doesn’t track logically that this same accident couldn’t have occurred to another family on your street. One bereft of weird abilities.

“It still would’ve been a tragedy, and my heart is broken on your behalf, but you must accept that you didn’t do this. You loved her. Thinking about how you’ve cared for her all these years, it makes me want to cry. And the way you adopted Beulah as your own? It reveals you. You’ve been walking a dark road alone for a long time, but you’re not a bad person. If anything, you feel too deeply.” She gave a watery smile, tears barely held at bay. “That’s a hell of a kryptonite for any superhero. No wonder you buried any sign of it under layers of ice.”

“Can we stop now?” You’ve eviscerated me, his eyes said.

“Sure. I can’t persuade you I’m right. But in time you may accept that I am.”

He grunted in answer.

Reluctantly, she let the matter drop. Silence, punctuated with remote birdsong, reigned in the cabin. They had been here for a couple of days, and the peace had seeped into her soul. She understood now why he loved this spot, but hiding wouldn’t make their problems go away. And sex was out of the question right now; she was lucky he hadn’t put her outside for the bears yet.

So she changed the subject. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we’re safe. But I’m wondering what we can accomplish out here.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Would I?”

“Does this mean I’m supposed to show you now?”

She wondered if it was too soon for a joke. “Well, I think I’ve seen everything else.”

“Are you saying you’re bored with… everything else?” In a few scant moments, Søren had lost his sharpness, his anger, everything that fueled him.

“No. Just eager to put this behind us. If we can.” Mia was none too sure.

“We will. Regardless of blame, I must finish what I’ve started, but I promise you will take no lasting harm from your time with me.”

Time, as in limited. Pain lodged inside her sternum. After what she’d done to him, doubtless she deserved it. To cover, she said, “That’s good to know. You had something to show me?”

Søren felt as though she’d flayed him with her tongue.

God knew he should be furious. And he had been. But now he was something else, somewhere between bitterness and loss. The mood left a salty flavor on his tongue.

He escaped gratefully to the car, where he withdrew a case. The circular object inside he affixed to the roof and then made the necessary connections. Next, he fetched his laptop, which he connected to the device on the roof. The mountain air held a chill, so he slid into the passenger seat and ran the cable through the lowered window.

But instead of getting to work, he stared off into the trees. Pines marched in stately rows all around him; he could picture what they’d look like from the summit, though from right here, he saw only a green tangle. That seemed particularly apropos.

He couldn’t begin to sort the emotional snarl Mia had created with her quiet, brave declaration: because her I love you wasn’t-couldn’t-be true. He didn’t dare place any faith in it. Some women just had a tendency to attach to men they couldn’t have, and he was more untouchable than most.

With a faint sigh, he powered up the laptop. Before departing, he’d set up a forward, filtered through a number of servers, to receive any incoming mail. He suspected their enemies would make contact directly, trying to lure them out into the open.

He checked old accounts first, men he had been in previous lives. Those names were quiet like the grave. But when he pulled up the Thomas Strong file, he had five messages waiting. The first two were banal, involving company business.

We await your decision regarding the donation. Your efforts will save a life. Too late on that one, even if he were AB negative. He hoped they’d found an alternative source.

It has come to my attention there has been potential misconduct between you and a member of our IT department. Please contact me at your earliest convenience. That one was from Frederick Collins, the director of operations. He smiled reluctantly; he supposed tying a subordinate employee to his bed might constitute harassment in the usual course. But how did they know? That presented some interesting questions.

He set some inquiries in motion regarding Collins’s personal correspondence and then moved on to the final e-mail. We know you’re working with Mia Sauter. Things will go badly for you unless we come to some arrangement.

“They think they can buy me off,” he muttered.

Mia tapped on the window to let him know she was there. She’d tugged his shirt over her own in lieu of a jacket, and it hurt him to look at her. “What is all this?”

“Satellite uplink.”

“Isn’t that insanely expensive?”

“Not anymore.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Finding out what they know.”

“Which is?”

It pleased him to make her mine for information, as if each syllable were encased in gold. “They think you’re in charge, and that you’ve persuaded me to help you.”

Her mouth curved into a mocking smile. “Well, how about that. So they have no idea who you are?”

“It appears not.”

“Does that help us?”

“Doesn’t hurt.”

Mia curled her hands into fists. “Are you going to be like this the whole time?”

“Like what?” He regarded her coolly.

“Never mind.” She whirled and stalked back to the cabin.

Smiling, he typed a reply: You’re mistaken. Your trouble has only just begun.

He had ample time to come up with a strategy and respond to whatever gambit they offered. There had to be a way inside the real labs. It stung that he’d wasted that time undercover before being forced to flee, but he wouldn’t give up. It had taken ages just to find the dummy facility, after all, but he’d done it. Now he’d find a way to end this.

But Mia complicated his initial plan. Somehow he doubted she would be amenable to staying out of it while he went in to destroy the place… even if it killed him. Before meeting her, that had been the optimum result. He’d played the scene so often in his head that it offered near sexual satisfaction.

He didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

Søren disassembled the gear, stowed it, and grabbed a bag before he closed the trunk. Ordinarily, he would just take off, but he owed her more than that. Muttering, he tapped lightly on the cabin door. When Mia opened it, he said, “I’m going to take a walk and set some traps on the perimeter. I’ll be back later.”

“Stay here, in other words.”

“If you don’t mind.”

She was the most frustrating woman. Any other female would obsess over the revelation she’d made earlier and his response to it, but Mia had attitude to burn. Søren turned, shouldering the gear.

“You can’t run away from the real world forever,” she said.

“My reality and yours are quite different. Drop the bar when I leave and don’t open it until you hear my voice.”

“I thought we were safe here.”

He offered a faint, melancholy smile. “It’s not safe anywhere.”

Mia made a sound that might have been frustration or agreement. The clearest reply came when she closed the door and secured it. Dry needles crunched underfoot as he left the clearing. Out here, he couldn’t go high-tech. Motion sensors would be set off constantly by birds and squirrels to say nothing of the larger animals. The last thing he wanted to do was piss off a bear with an alarm.

Instead, he made do the old-fashioned way with rope snares and trip wires. If he wanted to spend hours, he could dig a few pits, but he didn’t think it was necessary. They’d given no indication they knew his real identity, and without that connection, they wouldn’t know to search for property once owned by Søren Frost. Names were powerful things, and he had sown so many of them; Foster, Strong, and Winter comprised only a small minority.

The silence gradually calmed his emotions as he worked. Knots were reliable; you could count on them. If you twisted the rope the same way, you got the same result each time. Life was never so neat and tidy.

And he was tired.

Tired of sleeping poorly, tired of knowing the men who were ultimately responsible for destroying his life were out there somewhere, eating well, buying Christmas presents, and laughing at bad jokes. A wave of fury rose up inside him, so fierce and sudden it was all he could do not to howl.

Nothing he did mattered.

Nothing would bring Lexie back.

Gritting his teeth, Søren slammed his fist into the trunk of a tree. The pain felt good, cleansing and cathartic. He did it again, eating the agony until physical pain blotted out old heartbreak. When the storm passed, he leaned his head against the grainy bark, feeling its whorls bite into his brow. He didn’t think his hand was broken, and even if it was, he could still do what must be done. This injury wouldn’t stop him.

He hated being out of control, and things had been spiraling that way ever since Mia waltzed back into his life. It wasn’t fair to blame her for his current predicament, but the break in routine bothered him more than he’d let on. Søren liked things tidy, and lately life was anything but.

His plans weren’t yielding the same predictable results.

He was no longer able to separate himself from his outcomes, moving people as if they were pieces on a board. Everything had changed when he first made love to Mia. And he didn’t know what to do about it.

Cradling his wounded hand, he went back to the cabin. The silly woman hadn’t closed the curtains, and it was getting dark. He could see her moving around inside, silhouetted in the candlelight. He stood for a moment, utterly transfixed, and his heart felt as though it might beat its way out of his chest.

This feeling-having someone waiting for his return-he didn’t know what to do with it, but it hurt, almost as much as his hand. Confusion and misery warred within him when he craved certainty most. His course should be dead clear; nothing had changed.

Find the way in. Kill them and let it finally end.

She turned then and saw him standing there. Mia left his line of sight, and then he heard the door being unbarred. Stepping into the twilight still wearing his dress shirt over her tee, she looked warm and tousled. Perfect. She extended a hand; Søren stared at the lovely contrast between her skin and the snowy fabric folded up over her forearms. He’d never wanted anyone in such a way before: visceral, almost crippling.

Her prosaic words came as a relief. “I heated up some beans.”

“Good. I need the protein.” At least he sounded calm, business as usual.

“You’re hurt.” Her voice reflected an exasperated tenderness.

He didn’t know if he could bear her sympathy. Then Mia reached for him, and he realized it wasn’t about his hand at all.