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Seconds later, I was crying his name just as he shouted mine…
An indeterminate amount of time later, the sweat had cooled on our bodies, but we were still connected in the most intimate of ways. I could feel how hard he still was and couldn’t help wondering if he was always like that, or if he was debating going for round two. I wasn’t opposed to another orgasm, but I was exhausted and sleep was already making my lashes feel like they had ten-pound weights tied to them.
The same thing happened the night before when he snuck in to my bedroom at home. No sooner had he gotten me off than I passed out. I just didn’t know if I liked that he could so easily knock me out. An orgasm or two and then I was a puddle of goo for him to do with whatever he wanted.
Turning us on our sides, he pillowed my head on one arm and used the other to hold me against his body. His fingers stroking little circles on my hip did nothing to help me fight the urge to fall asleep in his arms.
“Hey.” His voice was soft, imploring as he lifted my chin and made me look at him. Not that I could make out more than the shape of his face with the lights off, but I could picture the intense expression on it. “There’s something important I need to tell you.”
Every muscle in my body tensed, and the sleepiness completely evaporated as I prepared for him to tell me this really was all a game and now that he’d gotten off, he wanted to be with Paige after all.
“I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing over mine so softly, tears stung my eyes.
“Wait, what?” I whispered, not sure I’d heard him correctly. Maybe I was already asleep, and this was just a dream.
“I love you, beautiful.” Another brush to my lips as he thrust into me and held himself deep.
Swallowing the knot of emotion trying to choke me, I sucked in a deep breath, savoring this moment. “Ben—”
“Shh,” he commanded, suddenly sitting up in bed.
“Why?” I looked around, straining my ears to listen for whatever he’d just heard that had him on alert.
“I heard gunfire.” Jumping up, he was already reaching for his pants, not even bothering with his boxers. Pulling on his shirt, he left it unbuttoned and grabbed his gun.
Nervously, I watched him walk to the door and crack it open enough to look out. Light streamed in and amplified the sounds outside. A scream filled the air, and I was on my feet, pulling on my shirt and panties. I struggled to get into my jeans, since they were half inside out.
When I touched Ben’s back, he glanced down at me. “I have to check this out. Stay here—”
“No way. I’m coming with you.”
Gunshots sounded from what seemed like inside the clubhouse now, and I gulped. “My family is here. I’m not staying locked in this room when they need me.”
His brown eyes darkened, but he nodded. “Stay behind me, and do as I say. No matter what.” I pressed my lips together, and he tapped me on the ass with his free hand. “No matter what, Lexa, or you stay here.”
“Fine. I promise.” His brows lifted. “No matter what, I’ll stay behind you.” I gave in.
“Come on, then,” he muttered unhappily.
Another gunshot sounded just down the hall, and I heard a cry. Recognizing the voice as one of the sheep, I clutched at the back of Ben’s shirt to keep from running past him to get to her.
“She’s not here,” India said. “Lexa is home.”
“Don’t lie to me, bitch. I saw her come here hours ago, and she never left.” Ben got to the end of the hall and pressed his back to the wall, his gun aimed and at the ready while he held me back with his other hand. “Now tell me where she is, or I’m going to shoot you again.”
“Sh-she and her mom left n-not twenty minutes ago,” India continued to lie. “Shh-she went home, I t-tell you.”
The pop from the gun going off had me covering my mouth to drown out my scream, tears already running down my face. I loved India. She was so sweet and had always been kind to me. How many times had she babysat me and my brother over the years?
Ben grasped my arm, giving it a squeeze in an attempt at comfort, but there was no time for that. Heavy footsteps were coming our way. But he still held on to my arm with his free hand as he lifted his gun higher and pointed it right at the man who came into view.
“Stop right there,” Ben told him, his voice icy cold and deadly. He moved in front of me, blocking me completely with his large body before the man could see us.
But I’d already caught sight of the guy, had committed his image to memory, and I knew I would know him anywhere. Blood and something else were splattered across his face and the stark-white dress shirt he was wearing. An assault rifle in his hands he already had aimed at Ben’s chest. His face was classically handsome even for a man of his age. But it was his eyes that had truly terrified me.
They were cold. Dead.
Just like Enzo Fontana’s had been.
