Skin Game

CHAPTER 16

Carhenge was everything Kyra expected.

It had a campy Americana charm, but she found herself reluctantly impressed by the precision of the replication. She’d never been to Stonehenge, but she’d seen pictures. Rey seemed a little bemused by the idea of a monument like this erected in a random field, but he was patient with her desire to wander around.

A man at a souvenir shop down the road told them they held pagan celebrations, music festivals, poetry readings, and of course, the occasional car show here. Kyra bought a T-shirt and tried to forget what’d happened earlier. Unfortunately, when her gift went wrong, it went way wrong.

The site had picnic tables, so they bought lunch and came back. As the day wore on, other tourists showed up to check things out, but nobody tried to make conversation. Kyra stifled a smile over that, but Rey didn’t look particularly approachable, even in direct sunlight while eating corn on the cob. Right then, she could almost forget all the complications in her life.

She’d never felt this kind of warmth directed at one man. When he turned his head, the sun gleaming on blue highlights in his dark hair, heat coiled in her stomach. His sharp features no longer looked fearsome, only sweetly familiar. Her heart felt strange, a little too large for her chest, when he smiled at her.

They spent almost the whole day, doing nothing in particular. She knew he was trying to give her a good day to make up for what she’d gone through this morning, and she appreciated it. He had to be bored, but she felt weirdly close to her dad as she walked around the attraction.

While she considered that, he cleaned up the remnants of their picnic and then jogged over to a trash can. He paused on the way back to talk with an older man who wore a Carhenge hat. Kyra watched them, knees drawn up to her chest.

Rey came back in a few minutes later. “If you apply for a Friends of Carhenge membership, you can sponsor one of the Aubrey holes and name it after your dad.”

“Really?” For reasons she couldn’t explain, this would mean a lot more than a simple engraved stone.

“Yeah. If you want to come over here and spend fifteen minutes with this guy, we can take care of it right now.”

Her smile of thanks felt strange and tremulous. “Thanks for checking on it.”

Half an hour later, they climbed into the Marquis with a receipt and a promise that the job would be done. She felt at peace for the first time in longer than she could recall, and Kyra knew she could thank the man beside her for that. As she drove back to the motel, she smiled. He was tough, no question, but he had a tender side, too.

“What?”

“Just thinking about how lucky you’re getting tonight.”

He grinned. “I still have two-thirds of the condoms I bought in Louisiana.”

As she pulled into the parking lot, she slid him a serious look. “I’m glad fate brought us together again. I can’t remember when I’ve been this happy.”

A shadow flickered in his dark eyes. “Me, either. Let’s go upstairs.”

The stark, sensual lines of his mouth told her there wouldn’t be any teasing this time. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, and Kyra found that reassuring. Rey took her hand and led her to their room. They’d just tossed their bags inside the door, and he swept them aside with a foot as he tugged her through the door.

He bent, rummaging for the aforementioned condoms and tossed the box on the bedside table. She had enough presence of mind to pull the curtains and put the chain on the door, but then his hands slid over her hips, drawing her to him for a long, drugging kiss. As soon as his lips touched hers, pure lightning crashed through her. Kyra ran her hands over his hot, hard chest, up and over his shoulders. Her nails dug in as he nipped her lower lip, demanding a deeper taste of her.

By the time he broke away long minutes later, they were both trembling. She gloried in the fact that his hands weren’t steady as he pulled her shirt over her head. Kyra wriggled out of her jeans on her own, leaving her clad in peach panties and a matching camisole. His gaze found the dusky points of her nipples through the satin, and she felt the look between her thighs.

Kyra pulled the cami over her head and tossed it toward a chair. His touch skimmed upward over her ribs, hesitating only a few seconds before closing on her breasts. It wasn’t a fierce touch, more reverently possessive, as if he were acknowledging something beautiful that belonged to him. She knew she should be worried or offended, but she couldn’t resist the seduction of his hands. Rey rubbed his thumbs back and forth across her nipples, abrading them, but he knew not to pinch. Instead he tugged with tender fingertips, mimicking suction.

Her breath went in a shuddering rush. She needed his mouth there. As if in answer, he bent his head, laving her nipple in a tight circle, then he bit, lightly. Yes, like that. Kyra swayed, breathless with the delicious contrast between demand and delicacy.

“We’re going to slow things down now,” he murmured in a black velvet voice. “Lay back.”

Instinctively, she wanted to protest. She didn’t need foreplay, but by the look in Rey’s eyes, there would be no arguing with him today. Kyra sank onto the bed, conscious of every angle and curve. His dark gaze seemed to skim her skin, touching the lees and hollows of her body.

“Want me?” she whispered.

He didn’t waste words. Instead the heat of his mouth brushed the inner curve of her ankle, a delicate kiss that curled her toes. Kyra spread her legs, stifling a moan. She knew where he was heading, but nobody had ever done it before. Men didn’t tend to waste such niceties on a woman they picked up for the night.

His teeth followed his lips, grazing a path up the curve of her calf. When he licked the soft skin behind her knee, Kyra lifted her hips. It was impossible not to imagine his mouth at work elsewhere, devouring her with the complete intensity and focus he dedicated to every task. Levering up on her elbows, she reached out to touch his head, smoothing the raven strands.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered. “I don’t want you watching me. I want you feeling.”

“Oh, I am.” A shiver swept over her, but she did as he asked.

Everything intensified when her lashes swept down. Flashes of sensation punctuated the darkness, and her world centered on the gifted mouth now nuzzling her inner thighs. Rey fastened his teeth gently on the skin and tugged, then swirled his tongue in lazy circles. Heat and dampness contrasted with the rasp of his jaw.

A little moan escaped her as he licked along the edge of her panties. Hoping he’d take the hint, she lifted her hips again. This time, he slid them down her thighs and off to join her clothes on the floor. Dimly she realized she was naked, and he was fully clothed. There was a certain titillation in that awareness.

When his fingers grazed her labia, she stiffened a little. She’d thought he would use his mouth, but what he was doing felt good, so she stayed quiet. Rey pressed and caressed her outwardly until she felt a steady stream of moisture within. The longer he delayed touching her more intimately, the more sensitized she felt. With what felt like thumb and forefinger, he massaged her lips until she found her pelvis rising and falling, trying to force a little contact with her aching clitoris.

Kyra moaned as he shifted and a phantom flare of heat traced along her folds. By the time his mouth graduated from teasing to greedy, she’d come unhinged. Her hips bucked and she tangled her hands in his hair. He worked his tongue against her, licking up and down everywhere but the spot she wanted it most. She tried to raise his head up, but he seemed determined to drive her out of her mind.

“Come on,” she begged. “Finish me.”

Silky hair brushed her thighs when he slid upward. Strong hands cupped her ass, lifting her to his mouth like a pagan sacrifice. Kyra’s thighs spilled open, and she had no hope of hiding anything from him. His lips closed on her clit, firm, soft, heated. Each pull made her writhe against him, utterly open, taken by his lips and tongue to a place where she could only thrash and groan, beyond speech.

Orgasm broke upon her hard, leaving her shivering in his arms. The waves went on and on, subtly enhanced by the magic of his mouth. He whispered to her in languages she didn’t know. When she opened her eyes long minutes later, his hands were on her back, stroking her as if she were a wild thing he had to tame.

Kyra felt like she should say something poetic, but that wasn’t her style. Instead, she offered, “Those pants have to be strangling you by now. Wanna take ’em off?”

Hell, yeah. She lay there like a contented kitten while he stripped out of his jeans. Her tawny eyes following his every move reinforced the feline image. He’d loved watching her unguarded emotions while he touched her. That was why he’d demanded she close her eyes, so that barrier would drop. It had been even better than he’d imagined, and over the last few weeks, he’d imagined a lot.

Need ricocheted through him—and that was exactly why he couldn’t take her right now. Reyes left his boxers on out of self-defense. She might take his decision for tenderness or consideration, but it was more basic than that. His response to her pleasure had rocked him too much. For an agonizing moment, he’d feared he would come, too. That gave her an unacceptable level of influence over him, compromising his ability to make good decisions. Therefore, he had to prove to himself he was still in charge, both of his emotions and this operation. Things had gotten murky; time to clear them up.

So Reyes wrapped his arms around her and tucked her close. Kyra gazed up at him with sleepy eyes. “Not tonight, you have a headache?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I’m going to let you recharge for a little while. There’s no rush. We have all night, right?”

Her lips curved into a heartbreakingly sweet smile. “Right.”

Kyra spooned up against him, back to his chest, and tucked her sweet little ass against his dick. At first he thought she was wiggling to try to drive him nuts, but eventually he realized she’d been trying to get closer to him. She nestled her head beneath his chin and sighed softly.

Reyes sensed the moment she drifted off, languid and warm. Next to her, he felt like a live wire, every nerve jumping, but he wouldn’t be ruled by his emotions or his urges. When he took her, it would be controlled and methodical. It would serve his purposes, not simple biology. Through force of will, he relaxed his body by muscle groups and then he too closed his eyes and slept.

When he woke, he realized with crystalline clarity that he’d never have detachment where she was concerned. His dick still felt diamond-hard, nestled up against her ass. If he had to wait another minute to get inside her, he’d die. His hands shook as he reached behind him for a condom. He pulled his penis through the slit in his boxers. The packet crinkled as he tore it open and rolled the latex on.

She murmured a little in her sleep at his movements; the idea of waking her with an orgasm had him nearly ready to come, added to the previous stimulation. Damn, she’d tasted sweet, and she felt even better. He brushed his fingertips between her labia and found that she was still wet, still warm. Good. She must be enjoying her dreams.

With a gentle hand, he tilted her hips, lifted one of her legs gently, and pushed into her from behind, inch by tantalizing inch. She gave a little whine, almost in protest, but he thought that came from the excruciatingly slow speed of his penetration.

He’d never made love to a woman soft with sleep before. Reyes always woke them up before pouncing like a tiger, giving them the opportunity to say no; he liked it hard and rough with plenty of teeth. Given his general preferences and his history, it was safer to acquire consent beforehand—and just because a woman said yes once that night, it didn’t guarantee her cooperation again. They’d done it that way the first night, but nothing had gone as planned with her since.

Tonight, however, he trusted that she wanted him. Alarm and excitement warred for supremacy as he began to move, gentle strokes into her that made him feel as though she did the taking, sinking hooks deep into his heart. Reyes ran his hands over her body, caressing her breasts and belly until she arched beneath his hands like a cat.

He knew the instant she roused to full wakefulness, swiftly confirmed by her murmured, “Mmm. So it’s not a dream.”

“No,” he managed huskily.

“That’s good. Can we . . .?” In answer, he angled her hips slightly, pushing her forward for stronger thrusts. “Yeah, that. Exactly.”

His breath came faster as he took her with fierce tenderness. He had to be closer than she was so he found her clit with his fingers, jacking her intensity to match his own. They came together, shuddering, with only the quiet rasp of their breathing to mark the moment. It surprised him how much he wanted to hear his name on her lips . . . and she didn’t even know, at least not in its entirety. He’d almost forgotten his name wasn’t Rey.

Reyes rolled away to dispose of the condom, and then he reached for her again, so needy that it frightened him. She curled into him, arm across his waist. It wasn’t that he wanted to screw her again—although he did—it was that he simply craved her closeness. He wanted to lie with her in the half-light and listen to her breathe, inhaling her scent.

It was totally fucked up. Now he could only see one way to end her, assuming he wanted to complete the job. He’d cup her head in his hands, bestow one final kiss, and then twist. Clean. Fast. She wouldn’t feel much pain. Contrary to what he’d thought before, it had to be up close and personal, however great his distaste.

He didn’t want to, but he’d taken money for this job. He couldn’t throw away years of work, establishing himself as the go-to man who always got the job done. He couldn’t walk away from this job with his reputation intact; Foster would see to that.

Maybe there was some middle ground, some acceptable compromise.

But he doubted it.

No, if he let Kyra live, he had to commit to her cause. It would be all or nothing. Could he do that for a con woman with even less a sense of responsibility than he had? Did he want to?

“That was amazing,” she said dreamily, rubbing her cheek against his chest.

Reyes gazed down at her face, studying the fans her lashes made against freckled cheeks. “I hope you didn’t mind . . . I couldn’t wait for you to wake up.”

She smiled. “I think that’s the nicest thing anybody ever said to me.”

His heart clenched. “That’s pretty sad.”

Her expression clouded. “It is, isn’t it?” Kyra dipped her chin, hiding her face from him then. Her words came out soft and abashed, muffled by his skin. “I think I’m falling in love with you. I’m probably not supposed to say it first because you’ll get all panicky thinking about mortgages or something, but . . . it’s true. And I get fed up with telling people what they want to hear. I won’t do that with you.”

Each word struck him like a fist in the chest, and he couldn’t get his breath, not because he was freaked out by the idea of a mortgage—he owned his condo free and clear—but she’d given of herself so freely when he knew how closely she guarded her emotions. Hell, she wasn’t even used to being touched.

And he was going to use that against her.

“Are you saying you trust me?” he asked quietly.

Kyra considered that and then nodded. “Yeah. You’ve been straight with me, told me things nobody else knows about you. You saved my life, and you listened when everyone else thinks I’m full of shit.”

“Then don’t you think it’s time you leveled with me?” It was a calculated risk, but there would never come a more opportune moment.

“What makes you think I haven’t?” She immediately went on the defensive, a tactic most liars utilized.

“Your eyes slide ever so slightly over my left shoulder instead of making direct contact when you lie.” He’d noticed she didn’t do it with other people, which told him she didn’t enjoy deceiving him. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. I’m just somebody you picked up along the road, but realize I know you haven’t been honest with me.” Now she’d think he hadn’t confessed like feelings due to her lack of faith in him. Reyes understood how women thought, and he held the silence and then added, “You know what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” she said. “You’re right. I have my reasons for keeping quiet, nothing to do with you. But know this . . . you’re not a throwaway fuck to me.”

He gathered her close. “You aren’t to me, either.”

It wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was the closest she’d ever get from him. Now the seeds had been planted; he just needed to wait for them to bear fruit.