He finger-fucks me mercilessly as his tongue teases my clit. I squirm, the sensation almost too much to bear, but Damien takes no pity on me. He grabs my hips and holds me still so I have no choice but to take everything he has to offer because there is no way to escape even the smallest bit of this pleasure that is so acute it is as sharp as pain.
My muscles begin to tremble and electricity courses through me. I feel it in my inner thighs, in my belly. A vibrant, swirling current, like a storm that is building and building—and when my climax finally breaks, I throw my head back and scream, certain that the sensation cutting through me couldn’t be any more potent than if a real storm had released lightning directly into my blood.
I gasp as the trembling subsides, sucking in air as I try to gather myself. I’m exhausted, completely sated, and Damien gently lays me out on the couch, and then joins me, his body pressed against mine as he holds me close.
I close my eyes and tuck my head against his shoulder, warm and satisfied, but still undeniably melancholy. “I don’t want it to be true,” I say, my thoughts returning to Frank.
“I know you don’t. But one way or another, we need to know.”
I nod, then move to sit up as he does the same. “We do,” I agree, stressing the we. Because this isn’t just about me. This is about both of us. “Is Ryan working on it right now?”
“He is. Dallas said he would help, too. He took it upon himself to go to Frank’s hotel and sneak into his room. I think he feels responsible.”
“Hardly,” I say. “But I understand the sentiment. How’d he get in, anyway?”
“Seduced one of the maids, apparently.”
I nod; I should have figured that out by myself.
“You should go help them,” I say.
“I will. This isn’t the kind of thing I’m going to leave to my staff. Or my friends. But I don’t have to go now. I’ll be just as useful tomorrow.”
I shake my head. “No. You’re holding back to take care of me, but what I need is answers. Go help them,” I say more firmly. “Get me answers, Damien. And then come back and take me to bed. Either in celebration, or because I’ll need you beside me to help me get through it.”
“I’m always beside you,” he says gently. “Even when I’m far away.”
Chapter 10
I consider going into my office after Damien leaves, but instead I decide on a long, hot bubble bath.
That lasts an hour and isn’t quite as satisfying as I’d hoped. Yes, I now feel completely relaxed, but at the same time, I spent the last hour with my mind running in worried, frustrated circles.
Twice I pick up my phone to call Sylvia—for years she had an incredibly strained relationship with her father, and I harbor the fantasy that she can offer me advice—but it seems horribly unfair to burden her with my problems when I know she must be going crazy with last-minute baby prep now that she’s only about two weeks out from her due date.
I end up pulling on yoga pants and a threadbare University of Texas T-shirt, then head into the kitchen to get some microwave popcorn. As I’m waiting for the kernels to start doing their thing, my phone chimes, signaling a call forwarded from the property gate. I frown—Gregory screens visitors during the day—then remember that today’s his day to run errands and he’s undoubtedly at the market.
I take the call, anticipating FedEx or UPS requesting a signature, and then freeze when I hear Frank’s voice. “Please let me come in. I really think we should talk.”
My instinct is to do just that. But I steel myself against it, because I’m certain that if I let him in my house—if I talk to him and let him get under my skin any more than he already has—then it will be all the more devastating for me if Damien and the guys find out that the worst is true.
“Nikki? Are you still there?”
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I can’t. Please, just go.”
I end the call abruptly, grab my popcorn, and hurry back to the bedroom, forgoing the huge screen in the media center for the comfort of watching a movie in bed.
Unfortunately, I’m not able to concentrate on the movie at all. And when the end credits roll ninety minutes later, I’m lucky if I can even remember what flick I just watched.
I don’t know what prompts me to do it, but I grab my phone once more and open the app that ties into our security system. I check the camera that focuses on the gate, and even though I blew him off almost two hours ago, Frank’s car is still parked just off the driveway, close enough for him to hear me over the intercom if I change my mind.
I feel a little twinge in my gut. Would someone who’s guilty try so damn hard to make a case for his innocence?
Or maybe he’s too clever by half and trying to lull me in?
Or maybe I should never have opened the app in the first place, because now I have yet another scenario playing in my head. Well, damn.
I’m actually considering getting on the intercom and begging him to please drive away when my phone rings. This time, it’s not a call forwarded from the gate, but from Jackson.
“Hey,” I say, happy to have someone to talk to in order to drown out my own voice in my head. “What’s up?”
“She went into early labor.” His voice is rushed, hard with an edge of fear, and I immediately tense. “The baby’s cord is around its neck, but she’s too far along for a C-section.”
“Oh, Jackson.” I sit down, cold with fear. “I’ll be right there.”