“Even when you’re on top, I’m in charge. Understand?” I need to gain her obedience so she doesn’t get herself killed. “Ella?”
She slowly nods.
“Say it.”
“You’re in charge.” She tightens around me.
I move her, up and down, faster than she could do herself. She climbs, her eyes wide, and then finally goes over with a shattered cry. She tightens around me, hard and fast, gripping like we’ll never be apart again. She bites into my pec, little mewling noises coming from her as her body shudders wildly.
I’m not far behind.
The climax nearly destroys me. I shudder through it, finally lowering her all the way and leaving her there with me still inside her. We pant together as the steam swallows us whole.
One thought hits me with absolute certainty. I have no clue what I’m going to do with Ella Rendale. Never in my life have I been the hero, not even of my own story, and I see no reason to start now. Heroes sacrifice. They let go for the greater good.
Fuck that.
I’m keeping her.
TWENTY-TWO
Ella
We move locations again, back to a city, when morning hits, and I’m going to miss the house in the forest.
I’m sore. In kind of a good way with a wisp of warning. My skin holds his teeth and finger marks. Justice is dangerous and sexy, and he is phenomenal in the sack. Or shower. Or forest. I’ve never been cold or clinical, not-withstanding my love for electronics and the hum of the Internet. I get attached to people, no matter how hard I try to keep my distance. Pure and simple. I’ve always known that for me, sex equals emotion. So I usually refrain and have made a lifetime out of remaining alone.
I don’t want emotion with Justice.
I can’t afford it.
As he shows me into yet another penthouse apartment in Silicon Valley, I note the distance between me and the sidewalk below. We’re actually in San Jose, and I’m on the twenty-second floor. While I wouldn’t mind attempting a Spider-Man escape, gravity would definitely win. “Howmany penthouses do you own in town, anyway?” The other one was more comfortable.
“This one is owned by a shell company, so it can’t be traced. You’re safe here for the day.” Justice flips on lights as we go, showing a sprawling living room with floor-to-ceiling windows. Sunrise slams against the glass, flooding the penthouse in fire and shadow. Mount Hamilton catches the first strike of light, the observatory flashing against the peak. The rest of the range waits behind it, dark and steady.
San Jose stirs below us. Headlights thread through the streets, slow and uneven, the grid glowing as if the city is waking in pieces. From the twenty-second floor, it all looks exposed. Freeways pulse, buildings squat low, and the space between here and the ground stretches long enough to make my stomach tighten.
Leo snorts, looks around, and leaps over the back of a black leather sofa to settle down.
Justice watches him, his head cocked. I have to admit, the man has been much more patient with my new mutt than I would’ve expected.
“Stop thinking so hard.” Justice points down the hallway. “I need to be in the city today, so you’re in the city today as well. Extra safeguards are being put in place at my house, so for now, you’re locked down here. Kitchen should be fully stocked.” He points the other way. “Bedroom suite is that way.”
Suite? As in singular? “Wait a minute—”
“Not in the mood, gorgeous.” He rolls his neck, looking too dangerous in a black suit, crisp white shirt, and black tie. Apparently he has another meeting to attend. Being the head of the Irish mob probably takes a lot of time.
I like being called gorgeous because it’s not true. Oh, Rosalie is gorgeous and Alana is beauty personified. I’m cute. Pretty enough. But definitely not gorgeous. However, I don’t like being brushed off. “I don’t care what kind of mood you might be in, Justice.” My voice is surprisingly mellow and calm. Good. I need to keep control around this man. “We are not sharing a room.” Yeah, I feel a little ridiculous considering the multiple orgasms I’ve had lately, but still.
“Right.” He moves back to the elevator. “There should be clothing for you in the room and food for the dog in the pantry. I may be gone all day.” He glances at his garnet and obsidian-encrusted watch. “There should also be a nice section of books to read in the bedroom.”
I pause and look around carefully. There isn’t a plasma television in the living room. “Um—”
“No electronics, Ella. Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry. Not in the slightest. If anything, he sounds … amused? “Can’t have you escaping again. What kind of kidnapper would I be?”
He thinks this is funny? “No computers?” I breathe out, my ears ringing. This is hell. How dare he? He doesn’t care about me at all.
“Nope. But there should be plenty of books for you. I told them to bring all new releases as well as a bunch of classics. Reading is supposed to support brain longevity, you know.”
