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His breathless words flutter against the nape of my neck as he continues to drive into me relentlessly. A wild desperation seizes us, driving him to rougher movements, each powerful thrust shaking the very foundation of my being.
"God, Paige...you feel so good," he grunts through clenched teeth.
His words spur me on, a shiver of delight running down my spine. I thrust back against him, meeting him halfway. Our bodies move in perfect sync, each push and pull escalating the fire that consumes us both. The sounds of our labored breathing fills the room, our grunts and moans marking the rhythm of our desperate dance.
"Faster," I beg, my voice barely above a whisper. My command is followed obediently, and his pace quickens.
His right hand moves away from my hip to glide towards my front, drifting lower until it reaches the throbbing bud of excitement between my legs. He rubs me in circles, matching the cadence of his thrusts. It's too much, the combination of his movements inside me and the relentless assault on my sensitive, swollen nub. I can feel a climax building up within me, a wave of pleasure that threatens to break any moment.
"Wait for me," he orders, though his voice is strained, indicating that he's also teetering on the edge.
I nod silent compliance, gritting my teeth against the impending eruption building within me. He tightens his grip on my waist, and with a final deep thrust that takes my breath away, he shatters into his own climax with a primitive growl. The sensation of his release triggers my own, and before I can suppress it, a wave of ecstasy crashes over me. I can feel my inner muscles contracting around him as wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure washes over me. A guttural whimper escapes my lips as my body convulses, my nails scraping against the wall in front of me.
Together we ride out the waves, our bodies pressing against each other, moving in a primal rhythm that eclipses any semblance of self-control. His movements slow as the tremors subside, his hands tender on my hips, easing the searing heat that still lingers. His forehead drops onto the crook of my neck, his heavy breaths fanning across my skin. The room is silent, save for our combined pants and the quiet hum of the city outside.
"I've got you, Paige," he whispers against my skin, his voice hoarse but reassuring. His arms wrap around me in an intimate hold, pulling me flush against his spent body. The wall cold at my front, his body warm at my back – a perfect contrast that leaves me wanting and satisfied at the same time.
I can't find the words to respond, both emotionally and physically drained.
He turns me around, kissing me before leading me to bed. Being in his arms is nothing like I have ever experienced. I feel safe and content. I don’t need to go anywhere or do anything except be in his arms. He holds me close, kissing over my heated flesh. I can feel his breathing slowing and know he’s falling asleep.
I lie awake, unable to shake the whirlwind of emotions swirling through my mind. I grapple with the realization that I'm inexplicably drawn to this blue-collar, crass guy who couldn't be more different from anyone I've ever known. I don’t imagine he’s ever worn a suit in his life, and I honestly wouldn’t want him to.
With a frustrated sigh, I throw off the covers and pad across the room, my thoughts racing a mile a minute. I had no idea that a simple escape from a crashed jet would lead to this, to me questioning everything I thought I knew about myself and what I want out of life.
I grab my laptop and take it to the living room. I boot it up and check my email. There’s a message from the whistleblower, urgent and cryptic. He needs to talk to me, he says, it's imperative. Something about the message doesn't sit right with me, and for the first time, I can't shake the feeling that there's something off about the whole situation. Why me?
He didn't ask why I didn't show up for our meeting, didn't question my sudden disappearance. I chew my lip, torn between my instincts telling me to run and my determination to find the underlying cause of this. I quickly type out a response, telling him I'm in Seattle and suggesting we meet.
As I hit send, I can't help but feel a sense of unease settling over me. I only get my life back if I can bring an end to all this craziness.
Chapter 18
Travis
Over breakfast, Paige tells me she's set up a meeting with the whistleblower, fury bubbles up inside me, threatening to consume me whole. "That was stupid," I snap, my voice tinged with frustration.
But she just looks at me, her eyes flashing with determination. "I'm not going to hide," she says, her voice steady. "I want to know who did this to me, who's trying to kill me. I have a career I worked hard for, and I'm not just going to let it go. You yourself said I can’t go back to my life until I figure out who’s trying to take me out. It obviously has to do with this case."
I want to argue, to tell her that she's putting herself in even more danger by meeting with this person alone. But I know that she's right. If I’ve learned anything, it’s the fact she's not the type to back down from a challenge, no matter how dangerous it may be.
“Then I’m going with you.”
“You can’t.”
“The hell I can’t,” I retort. “I told you, where you go, I go. You don’t know who this guy is. He could be a hired hitman for all you know.”
She gives me a dry look. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” I ask. “You’ve been almost killed twice in a week. I don’t know what kind of life you normally live, but that’s unheard of for the average person.”
She sighs, her shoulders falling. “I know. You’re right.” A small but triumphant smile tugs at the corners of my lips. She’s seeing sense now. But then she looks up at me, her gaze steady and resolute. “Alright, Travis, you can come with me, but you must stay out of sight. He can’t know I brought anyone.”
I grit my teeth, frustration simmering just below the surface as we come up with a plan. “Did he say where he wanted to meet?”
“No. I haven’t checked my email yet.”
“You pick the place,” I tell her. “He doesn’t get to decide this. That way you control the situation.”
