I couldn’t choose. I was shaking my head, just needing him. “Both.”
“Oh, you’re getting both, but you choose the first one.”
I felt it building, and feeling it coming up, erupting out of me, I cried out, “Rough! Rough, please.”
He grunted, his hand coming to my hip. He pulled out till his tip was just inside, then he thrust in, and he thrust in hard. He picked me up, his hand under my ass, gripping me, and he went fast, he went rough, until I was seeing those stars all over again.
“Kash!”
Still he kept going. Still he didn’t stop.
Then he held me still, arched over me. He moved in and out of me, seamlessly, gliding. It was spreading, moving. He was building a whole new level of frenzied fervor underneath the throb I was already feeling. He was entwining both of them, threading them together. And he paused again, gripped me, and lifted me up. He shoved us both back so the headboard was behind me, his knees on the bed, and I was pinned in place as he continued to plunge into me.
I felt it from the base of my spine.
He was helping it, taking me, bending over me, and his mouth latched onto mine as my climax ripped through me. I screamed from the onslaught of it, his lips claimed me, and a moment later I felt him erupting, just on the heels of my climax.
He held me until we’d both stopped shaking, and then he slid out gently. Climbing off the bed, he disposed of the condom, but he came back, pulling me to him.
“Kash?” I looked up, my head resting against his shoulder. “I don’t want just one night.”
His eyes darkened with lust—and another emotion. “Then it won’t be just one night.” He bent down, his lips finding mine, and it wasn’t long before he moved and lifted me again, and this time I rode him.
FORTY-ONE
I padded barefoot out to his kitchen.
We’d woken twice during the night. Kash reached for me the first, and I had pulled him in the second time. There’d been a third round this morning, in the shower, and I was fully sated. Completely sated. I almost couldn’t move this morning.
I was sore, but it was worth it. More than worth it.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I saw it was just past eleven.
Kash was at the stove, shirtless, and I had to stop and gawk. No one would blame me. He was standing, half turned away from me, paused in his stirring as he read something on his phone. His shoulder muscles were standing out. His spine flattened in as the rest of his back was corded and—was this an addiction? My mouth went dry at the sight of him. His sweatpants low on those hips. Those same hips that had been moving against mine, in and out, in and out, rotating, going deeper.
His eyes flicked to mine.
I flushed, caught ogling him, and I ducked my head down.
He grinned, putting his phone down. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.”
He watched me as I moved farther into the kitchen, going to the coffee machine. He asked, “You’re not sore?”
I turned, glanced at him. I felt bad saying it.
His grin grew, turning rakish. “You can be sore. I’d imagine you would be. I should apologize, but I’d be lying. I’m not sorry, not at all. Last night was amazing.”
I took out the coffeepot. “This morning, too.”
His eyes darkened, skimming down my face, lingering on my lips, traveling all the way until I could feel his gaze on my ass. I was wearing his shirt, nothing underneath, and the sight made him happy. Lust had started to form.
Pouring myself a cup, I turned, blowing on it a second. My back rested against the counter. I shook my head. “And you’re right. I am sore. I’ll need at least an hour to heal.”
He laughed, turning back to the eggs in the pan. “You like ’em hard?”
I’d been taking a sip, then sputtered at that. Shooting him a glare. “Har har.”
He still chuckled, then grew serious, motioning to his phone. “We have to go to the estate today. I have to deal with Matt later.”
“Can it be later later?”
He studied me a second. “You’re needing a break?”
“From them.” I waved to his phone. “Matt. Yes. Most definitely.” Gazing around, I asked, “Can we have a skip day? Is that a thing?”
“You want to hang here for the day?”
I half joked, “Can we hang here forever?”
His eyes darkened again, somber, and going to my lips. “We can stay here, yeah.” He crossed the kitchen, dipping down for a light kiss. He murmured, “I was thinking you’d like to check in on your mother today, too.”
I pulled back. “I can do that? We can do that?”
He nodded behind me, at his laptop. “You can use that to check in on her if you want. Your mom had a security system installed. I’m assuming you can figure your way in to see her? It has your father’s program to erase your trail, though the bad guys already know you’re with me.”
Bad guys. Right. His grandfather.
I suppressed a shiver, heading over and grabbing his laptop to take to the couch with me. Putting my coffee on the end table, I folded my legs and pulled his computer onto my lap, a pillow underneath.
Now this was heaven.
Kash shirtless. Coffee. Me in his shirt. A night of hot and intense sex. And a computer.
I was almost purring.
Opening it, I saw he already had it ready for me, and it didn’t take long for me to find her security system or to hack in. I was surprised at the security cameras; they were everywhere except—I had to snort—except her bathroom. Of course. Her toilet time was precious. Zooming around, I found her in the living room, snuggled on the couch, a blanket over her. She was lying down. The television screen on channel four, the late morning news on.
Then I noticed the popcorn bowl of tissues on the floor. How she sat up. How she wiped at her face with the back of her arm. How she stood and looked like an eighty-year-old, not the forty-five-year-old she was. Her skin was pale, gaunt. Her eyes were sunken, her cheekbones the same. She reached to pick some of the tissues, and she wavered, her hands shaking.
Pure horror settled in my bones.
She was not good.
I whipped around to Kash. “Did you know this?”
He frowned. “Hmm?”
“I thought you had men watching her. Weren’t they seeing this and reporting it?” I motioned to the computer, my finger pointing.
I was angry. I was livid.
“Kash!” I yelled, when he took too long to answer, turning the stove off and coming over the back end of the couch. His frown deepened as he saw what I saw, and he didn’t respond. “Kash.”
He ignored me, picking up his phone.
Moving to the bedroom, I heard him. “Who’s watching Chrissy Hayes right now?” Then he shut the door and I could only hear the sounds of an argument on the other end. I couldn’t make out the words, but it wasn’t long before it quieted and he came back in.
He stopped in the open doorway, staring starkly at me, cradling that phone like it was a barrier between us. “I’m sorry.”
I was on my feet, his computer dropped on the couch. His shirt grazed the tops of my thighs. “What’d they say?”
“She’s not eating. She was devastated when she woke at the hotel. No one reported to me, and I was distracted.” His eyes wavered, the ends of his mouth tucking in. He was cringing.