"First you talk."
She lifted herself up on her elbows. "That's extortion."
He grinned and licked her through the silk. "Sue me."
She could play the game. "I was thinking about last night. How you felt against me." She lifted her brows. "You're… incredibly well endowed, Solliday."
His eyes narrowed. "Take off your bra."
Her hands steady, she did, pulling her chain and dogtags off with it.
He drew a breath. "So are you." He pulled the thong aside and dragged a guttural moan from her throat with his mouth.
"I thought about your mouth the first day." she said, panting. Then his tongue stabbed at her and she closed her eyes. "Please."
"Tell me if I do something you don't like."
"1 don't like when you stop," she muttered and he laughed. Then got busy again, dragging her higher, winding her tighter, tauter. She bucked her hips and he pressed her into the mattress and sucked and she arched like a bow. The orgasm shot through her like an electric shock, hard and complete, leaving her weak and gasping.
He slapped a condom in her hand. "Do it," he bit out, pushing his pants to the floor.
Mia's eyes widened. Sated for now, she could admire him. "Oh. This is gonna be good."
"Mia, please. I'm not going to be able to hold back much longer." Gently, she touched him with her fingertips and he jerked. "Mia," he said between his teeth.
So she covered him, then gasped again when he slammed into her with one solid thrust of his hips. He held himself still as if he, too, absorbed. "Did I hurt you?" he asked.
"No. I was just… No." She ran her hands over his shoulders. "Don't stop now."
He grimaced. "I'm not sure I could." He started to move inside her and she did her part, locking her ankles around his waist, meeting each thrust. But his pace quickened, and the thrusts became harder, faster. Deeper. And she felt herself climbing again until she came, this time on a wave that seemed to go on and on until once again she collapsed back against the pillow, weak and gasping.
Above her, Reed went still, his head tilted back, his teeth bared, the muscles in his chest and arms quivering. Beautiful, was all she could think. He was simply beautiful. His head fell forward, and slowly he lowered his weight to his forearms and sighed.
She ran her finger along the line of his goatee, breathing too hard to speak. It had been incredible. Earth shattering.
Not hamburger. She closed her eyes, too tired to worry. That would come later. For now, she'd try to take in as much as she could. Store it away for when she had it no longer. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her chin. "We have to talk," he said.
She nodded. "Not right now, though." She'd have this, at least. Unspoiled.
"Later, then." He rested his forehead against hers. "Mia. I can't stay all night."
"I know."
"But… I'd like to stay a while longer."
Don't run from him. See where this takes you. "I'd like that, too." Her mouth curved. "You stopped by the drugstore. You must have been pretty sure of yourself."
He lifted his head, met her eyes, and she saw that he spoke truth. "I wasn't. All I knew is that if I didn't have you I'd explode. I hoped you'd say yes. I'm hoping you'll say yes again."
She nodded soberly. "Yes. Again."
Thursday, November 30, 12:30 a.m.
He was ready. He felt the energy flow through his body, like a fine hum. He'd worked through his plan. Their hotel room couldn't be located any better. All the room doors opened to the outside, but theirs was on the first floor, parking places only yards away.
He gently shouldered his backpack. It held three eggs. One was for the Doughertys' bed. He'd studied and now knew exactly how he'd bypass the sprinkler in their room. He'd investigated stairwells and exit paths and laundry rooms and knew exactly where he'd place the two other bombs for maximum burn, turning the whole hotel into hell. There would be mayhem as people streamed out in their pajamas, crying and terrified. Since there'd be no gas for an explosion, a little mayhem was only fair. The fire department would send three, maybe four trucks. There would be ambulances and flashing lights. The news would come, film would roll. They'd frantically check to be sure everyone was out. Then they'd find two bodies.
His system was revved, still charged from before. He'd killed once tonight. He was on a roll. He'd bagged the bloody coat hours before. He now wore a pair of coveralls he'd stolen from the hotel's laundry room. Master key cards were useful things.
He stood at the Doughertys' motel room door, confident no one would give him a second look. Not that it would matter if they did. Thanks to a wig and a little padding, he looked like a different man. His right hand gripped his very sharp knife. In his left, was Tania's master key card. He swiped it and gently tested the door, frowning when it caught. The Doughertys had used the swing bar for extra security. But no worries. He had considerable experience with these devices. Nothing was truly secure if you knew how to get around it. Sliding the thin blade of his knife through the narrow opening of the door he dislodged the swing bar and slipped in the room, carefully closing the door behind him. It was quiet except for the sound of gentle snoring coming from the bed. He stood still, allowing his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness.
And became instantly aware of two things. There were no flowers in this room. And there was only one person in the bed. A young woman, not more than twenty-five. A spear of panic went through him. He had the wrong room. Run.
But the woman opened her eyes and opened her mouth to scream. He was too quick. Too powerful. He yanked her head back as he already had once that evening. He held the knife at her throat. "You will not scream. Do you understand?"
She nodded, a whimper of terror escaping.
"What's your name?"
"N-N-Niki Markov. Please…"
His hand tightened in her hair. "What room number is this?"
"I-I don't kn-know." He yanked harder and she let out another whimper. "I can't remember. Please. I have two kids. Please don't hurt me."
His blood was pumping, pounding in his head as he fought to contain the sudden rush of fury. Damn women.
None of them stayed with their kids. "If you have two kids, you should be home"-he yanked again-"with your two kids." He switched on a light and looked at the phone. The room number was the right one. "When did you get here?"
"T-tonight. Please, I'll do whatever you want. Please don't hurt me."
They were gone. Goddammit they were gone. He'd missed them. Fury bubbled. Boiled. Spilled over, eating like acid. "Come on," he snarled. She stumbled when he dragged her toward the bathroom.
"Please," she was sobbing now, hysterical.
He yanked at her hair, bringing her up on her toes. "Shut up." Another whimper crawled from her throat. He couldn't ruin any more clothes, he thought. But he couldn't let her live. She'd tell. He'd be caught. Which was not going to happen.
So he pushed her in the tub, held the tip of the knife to her throat as he turned on the shower, full blast, which was really a piss poor trickle- He grabbed her hair again, twisting her to her stomach. Then he pulled the knife across her throat savagely.
And stood, watching as the trickle carried all her blood down the drain.
As her blood drained, his rushed. Rage seethed until he trembled from the force of it. He'd been denied his satisfaction. He'd been robbed of his revenge.
The Doughertys had managed to elude him once again. He'd find out where they went but he was running out of time. His jaw clenched as he waited for the woman in the tub to bleed out. He'd had plenty of time, until the cops showed up.
Because of Brooke Adler. Because of her stupidity, he would be discovered. It was a matter of time. He didn't have the Doughertys, but by God. he'd have his satisfaction.