Man of Mystery: A BBW Romantic Suspense (15 page)

Slowly, muffled voices emerge from the white noise surrounding me.

“Tess… Tess… I’m so sorry, Tess, are you OK?”

It’s Liam. I look up at him, and his green eyes are full of concern.

“Yeah. Can we go now?” I ask, before noticing my knees buckle involuntarily.

He catches me before I sink to the ground and carries me out of the van. I don’t try to think about what I’ve just gone through but can’t help looking back anyway.

“Liam,” I whisper.

“Yeah,” he says, while walking away from the commotion surrounding the van. Agents and police rushing in and out, taking notes and pictures, a couple of them joining Clark, presumably so he can explain what has just happened.

“Don’t leave me now.” Although I’m literally being too clingy, I’m too frazzled to care.

He lowers me slightly, allowing me another look into his eyes.

“I won’t. I’m so sorry.”

After the surprising twist, ending in H’s death, I vowed that things would change. Of course, I would have to give a statement, to explain what exactly went down inside the van, but I knew Clark would cover for me at least for a while.

My first priority was to take Tess away from there, away from all the death. Even though the paramedics had released her, saying she was fine, I insisted she get herself checked by a nearby hospital as well. By the time they saw her at the emergency room, and confirmed that she was indeed fine, another hour had passed.

We were too far from home, and it was already too late to attempt the drive, so I opted for a nearby hotel instead.

She didn’t say much on our drive there, just went through the motions until we reached the room.

That’s where we are now. In a quaint hotel room in a village near Folkestone, where neither of us have ever been before or perhaps will return to in future. She’s still quiet, sitting on the bed, staring at the wall, and although I wish I knew what was going on in her head, I’m afraid to ask, opting to pace around the room instead.

“I’m so sorry about everything that happened today,” I start, at first wondering whether she’s even hearing me until her eyes meet mine, and I recognize that I have her attention.

“We won, right?” Her voice sounds bleak.

“Right.”

“So then what’s there to be sorry about?”

I think for a moment. A lot, actually. I have a lot to be sorry about. She knows it too, adding to the current awkwardness. The magnetism between us made us gravitate towards each other while in danger, but now that the threat is over, the memories of what came before have flooded back.

“Earlier today, when I said our lives were incompatible…”

Her eyes widen, and I think I see more of a sheen form on them. I’ve seen fearful looks on so many people over the years, but I can’t stand seeing
her
like this.

“I just want you to be safe,” I try to explain.

She continues to stare at me without saying a word. It’s like being stabbed right in the heart; a type of hurt I’ve never felt before meeting her. Physical pain I can deal with, it’s easy, but this is impossible to tune out.

“This thing between us, I don’t understand it. It’s all new to me. I know that rationally, we shouldn’t get involved. I should leave you to live your life. Safe. Far away from all the shit that my past and my job bring with it.”

“You saved my life three times already. Or was it four?” Her tone is still low, though I know she feels as hurt as I do, if not more so. And that makes everything worse. “I feel safe with you.”

“It doesn’t count if I caused the situation you needed saving from.”

“If you say so,” she mumbles. She looks away like she wants to avoid me and the topic of conversation altogether.

I know I should follow through, and let her go. It’s the right thing to do, but the more I think about it, the more it hurts.

“Anyway, I’ve said what I had to. I’ve explained my reasons. But the truth is…” I pause for a moment when her eyes are back on me again. How is it that just a look can throw me off my game completely? How can one person have that much power over me? “I don’t think I
can
let you go.”

Her eyes widen again, not with fear this time, but hope and recognition.

“No?” she asks.

“No.” I shake my head to make my point. There is no way I can turn my back on her now. “I mean… I think I…” I’m not sure I can bring myself to say the words.

My heart is racing now, I - who normally doesn’t know fear - am scared about what’s going to happen if I complete that thought.

“You what?” she whispers.

To hell with it. She’s still here. She seems to like me well enough despite everything.

“I think I love you,” I say.

She doesn’t respond, at least not verbally. Her gaze seems to soften as she continues to look at me. Her body language demonstrates relief; how her formerly tense posture has relaxed just slightly. I guess I haven’t scared her off. Shit, this whole situation is so surreal, I must be losing my mind.

Finally, she does stir. She gets up from the bed and takes a couple of steps to bridge the distance between us. By the time she stretches out her arms and invites me in, I can finally breathe a sigh of relief as well.

“I need to know you’re not going to change your mind again. That you’re not going to avoid me again, whether you think it’s for my own good or not. We’ve got to be upfront and honest with each other and actually
talk.
” She presses herself against me while she speaks, making it hard for me to think clearly.

“I won’t. I promise.” I close my eyes and just focus on her presence in my arms.

“You know, before you came along the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me was when my local Chinese takeout place added some Thai food to their menu. Your life has too much excitement, mine too little. I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing.”

She releases herself from my embrace slightly, stands on tiptoes and gives me a peck on my lips. Instantly, my body reacts. Worries are wiped away. Concerns seem less important. I want her with all my being, keep her safe, make her happy, see her smile.

Most of all, right now, I want to prove to her that I mean everything I’ve said. I do love her; I just didn’t recognize it earlier.

I pick her up, rejoicing when she wraps her arms around my neck like it’s become second nature to her. We’ve done this before, and it was good. Today, it will be better.

She kisses my neck, her breath tickling me slightly, but not unpleasantly so. Her body is so inviting, soft, and lush. I can’t think of a single thing I would change about this moment or about her. She is perfection.

When I lay her down on the bed, the way she looks at me confirms it; she loves me too. People say they know when someone is the one for them, and I’d never understood how that was possible. Now I know.

We may come from different worlds, but somehow, when we’re together, everything makes sense.

She starts unbuttoning her blouse, revealing more and more tempting ivory skin. I can’t resist, diving down for a taste.

Of all the women I’ve ever been with - and there have been a few - none managed to captivate me like she does. None were as beautiful or as sexy. I feel like I haven’t even scratched the surface, like there is so much more I have to discover about her. Although I hadn’t wanted to involve her in my world due to the danger it poses, I desperately want to find out everything about hers.

I want to share Chinese takeout meals and boring drives in ratty old cars through the evening rush hour on the A4. One day, with her, I can imagine having more than I’d ever planned for myself: perhaps even a clichéd white picket fence around the home we share.

“I know it’s too soon, but I love you too,” she breathes, as I run my hands over her curves. “From the moment you got into my car, and I threatened you with my perfume, I knew there was something different about you.”

“Lush Lavender, as I recall.” I let out a chuckle, as does she.

“I was improvising.” I cut off her justification with a deep kiss. Her taste is intoxicating, as is her scent. Floral, feminine, fresh despite the long, trying day we’ve both had.

She reaches for my T-shirt, lifting it up as far as she can manage until I take it off all the way. I love the way her hands feel on me. There is never any hesitation, not even when she caresses my back. I appreciate that she hasn’t asked how I got those scars, like she understands that some things are best left alone until the time is right.

Underneath me, we each fumble with the remainder of our clothes, eager - desperate - to get rid of them all. Without any more barriers, we come together skin to skin. Although I’m aching to feel our bodies join again, I take my time.

I can’t imagine not having this, not having her in my life anymore. Crazy as it may seem, we’ve known each other less than a week. We’ve made our choice to open up to one another. To show weakness in admitting our feelings, hoping that it may give us strength for whatever is to come.

Now, at least for tonight, we have all the time in the world.

I look down at her, how her hair frames her beautiful face. Her eyes beg me for more kisses, more caresses. I cannot resist.

Slipping my hand in between us, I guide myself into her. The moan that passes her lips makes me desperate for more. I start to move, watching the change in her expression as pleasure fills her.

For me, as I imagine is the same for most men, sex had always been a necessity, like air or water. But with her, it’s so much more than that. It’s the ultimate expression of what I feel for her. Whatever the future may hold, this is the one way I can ensure she’s satisfied in this moment.

Her arms wrap around me tightly, as if to keep me buried deep inside her. I gather her up in my arms, lifting her against me, as I continue to thrust into her. Deeper. Faster.

Our bodies are perfectly in tune as if subconsciously we already know one another. If I shift my weight, angle my hips slightly forward, I know she will moan into my ear. When she nibbles on my earlobe and kisses my neck, I’m sure she knows I get goose bumps.

That’s how we tease each other, heightening the other’s pleasure until we reach the point of no return. They say simultaneous orgasms are rare, and most couples don’t have them. We do. I like to think that’s a sign.

She starts first, bucking her hips up at me, involuntarily digging her fingernails into my shoulders. That’s my cue to let go, release the tension that’s built up throughout our time together. I close my eyes and focus on her voice as she moans my name.

My mind goes blank. The feeling is indescribable. Fireworks. That’s all I can relate this to.

Sweet pleasure surges through me until it seems to explode.

The aftershocks last for at least a minute.

I shift my weight off her but am not in a rush to let her go completely.

Muscles relax again. Our breaths still slowly.

Her hand on my shoulder rests right above the painful reminders of a memory I haven’t spoken about in fifteen years.

“I was eleven when my mom remarried,” I start.

She doesn’t reply, but the slight stir of her finger tells me she’s listening.

“And I was fourteen when she was widowed.” I close my eyes, resting my forehead against the side of Tess’s face. It’s not easy to find the words, but it feels important that she knows.

“He had always been mean, but for years, they both hid his real nature from me. I didn’t come to know until one day I came home early from school and caught him beating her. When I tried to stop him, he turned on me with a belt.”

Tess wraps her arms around me tighter, giving me the courage to continue.

“She was in a bad state, but still she tried to drag him away from me. He instantly went at her, punishing her for intervening, I managed to get the belt from him. I think he underestimated how strong I’d become over the years. I looped the belt through the buckle, slipped it over his head and dragged him backward, allowing her to flee. I don’t remember clearly what happened after that, only that I still sat there in that room, the belt taut in my fist, when the police arrived. He was dead on the floor.”

It’s crazy how something from so long ago can still have an effect today. A cold sweat has developed on my forehead and in my palms. Still, Tess doesn’t let go. She continues to hold on to me, soothing me with gentle caresses.

“They decided it was self-defense, but I was institutionalized in a psychiatric facility for a while anyway. Mom couldn’t deal with what had happened and took her own life shortly after, so Child Protection put me in a home. That’s where the guy who founded our unit recruited me years later. They were looking for people who fit a specific profile: capable of violence but only for a cause. No family.”

The room is silent when I stop talking. All I can hear is her regular breaths, and the persistent drum of my heart filling my ears.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Tess whispers finally.

“I’m not,” I say. “I don’t want pity. I just need you to know who I am.”

“I don’t pity you. I love you. There’s a difference. I understand now.”