Mena gasped for breath as her pleasure threatened to drown her. "No ... never ..."
She was deliriously and completely at his mercy, surrendering all control and benefiting from his targeted seduction. He lengthened and grew harder inside her, pushing deeper within, giving her no relief, no reprieve from the pleasure.
Mena lifted one leg, allowing Julian deeper access as he increased the speed of his movements. She loved looking into his eyes as he made love to her. The desire and passion pouring out of him heightened every nerve ending in her body. His intensity swelled and sent her crashing toward another blissful orgasm. Before she cratered over the edge, Julian tightened a grip around her back.
"Hold on," he whispered. In one fluid motion, he rolled their bodies until Mena was straddling him. Her knees pressed against the mattress while still holding his cock tight within her.
"Ride me, hard, make me come, Mena," Julian demanded.
That was all she needed to hear. She leaned back slightly for the perfect angle to drive him wild, then bounced and gyrated on his cock at a feverish pace. His face registered every ounce of his desire.
As she brought him to the brink, he grabbed her ass, squeezing tight as a low growl eased from his lips. She felt him come within her as his body arched and shuddered underneath her. Mena held him tight, squeezing until Julian's head arched back.
"Fuck! I love you so fucking much. You're killing me."
Mena eased off of him, then collapsed beside him, wrapping her arms around his neck. The sounds of their panting filled the room. Their breathing synchronized, then slowed into a low hum, as Mena settled within Julian’s strong arms. Sadness pooled within her. This moment was temporary. Fleeting. He was a fugitive, trying to clear his name. Despite the setup in the basement of the gallery, Julian wouldn’t be sticking around here for very long. It was too dangerous, too risky. Mena couldn’t fathom how she’d ever survive being without him again.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The clock on the computer monitor read fifteen minutes after ten. Julian leaned against the back of the chair, shifting closer to the table as his fingers lightly tapped on the keyboard. He’d overindulged, keeping Mena in the basement of the gallery with him for this long. He hadn’t wanted to tell her the truth of what lay ahead for them. He didn’t want to see the disappointment on her face when he told her he couldn’t guarantee that they would see each other again over the next several days, weeks or maybe even months. He couldn’t emerge in public without proof that Dumay had set him up and that she’d likely arranged for Uma to do the same to Mena.
Mena’s naked body was twisted between the sheets. Snoring softly, her hand dangled over the edge of the mattress. The rose gold Tiffany bracelet rested against her wrist. He loved that she never took off the only symbol of their commitment that she’d allowed him to give her. A wedding band would have been his preference, but Mena wasn’t ready for that. Maybe she would never be ready. Julian had come to terms with that fact. It didn’t change anything.
Mena yawned and stretched, blinking as her eyes focused on him.
“Your stitches. How did you get hurt?” Mena mumbled, rising slightly from the bed. She tucked the sheets under her arms, robbing him of the chance to see her voluptuous breasts.
Julian thought about the fight he had with Zak Webber. The reason he’d confronted him. Photographs of Mena with another man. He didn’t think for one minute that Mena had sent them. Dumay or some other mindless fuck on her payroll was trying to get into his head.
It worked.
Why else had he believed that Zak Webber would tell him anything about what Dumay was doing? He knew better than to trust any lies the bastard might have told him. Seeing the mystery man with his hands all over Mena in the photographs had driven him crazy with jealousy. The jealousy had quickly been replaced with worry that Dumay was targeting Mena again.
But Mena was safe. He’d seen her scared for her life before. She wasn’t. She was more concerned about him than herself, which made the photos even more confusing. Who the fuck was that guy in the photos with her? And why did the man look familiar to him? He had a chance to ask her now, but for some reason he was hesitating.
“Julian? Did you hear me?” Mena asked, scooting toward the edge of the bed.
“Yeah, I got into a fight with Zak Webber and he stabbed me,” Julian said, turning away from Mena. He knew what was coming next, and he wasn’t sure how he’d respond.
“Why did you fight?”
Julian paused, his heartbeat quickening. “You know why.”
Wrapping the sheet around her body several times, Mena shuffled toward his chair and stopped behind him. Her arms circled around his shoulders as she leaned down and pressed her lips against his neck. The sensual scent of her sandalwood and orange perfume hypnotized him, forcing the questions from his mind.
“I’m sorry I never told you what really happened back then. There’s so much I wish I’d told you earlier—”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Julian said. Swiveling around on the chair, he pulled her down into his lap. “That’s in the past. Zak can’t hurt us. No one can.”
“Dumay definitely tries, doesn’t she?” Mena asked, leaning her head onto his shoulder.
“I think she’s using Uma to frame you.”
“The cell phone calls,” Mena said, running her hands through her thick tresses. “Beaujean wanted me to hire her back at the gallery. That’s the only reason I called her.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t say, and he made it clear I wasn’t to question him. I found out he has connections to the PC-5. When the cops brought me in for questioning, they said he was a money launderer and financial crimes expert with the island gang,” Mena explained.
