Mutual Release (43 page)

She flopped back in her chair, her body clanging with another sort of need – the kind she could blame him for, too. Evan Adams was a perfect gentleman, opening doors, taking her to a movie she picked, a concert she wanted to see, bought her drinks and food, and generally treated her better than she’d been treated in her life. James was a nice guy, had opened a few doors for her, but they’d both been playacting for the majority of those years. She closed her eyes, and the image of Evan’s boyish handsome face rose up in her mind’s eye, and with it, heat from the soles of her feet, up her legs, to her core, ending with a distinct tingle in her scalp.

Cursing him, she jumped up and got in the shower to keep from turning on her phone or taking the
away
message off her email. Hoping to give him a little taste of his own medicine, she’d done her pseudo-disappearing act, but it was turning out to be harder than she’d thought. She was pissed off at him and his little teasing games but wanted to see him, be held in his arms so badly at the same time, her eyes burned.

The shower distracted her some. But by the time she got out, the memory of his commanding voice, his lips, his touch, but mostly the look in his eyes when he was finally inside her, connected in the most intimate way, made her twitchy. The vibrator she’d last used maybe three years ago buzzed her to a quick climax. But left her gasping and even more pissed he’d reduced her to this.

That fucker – if he thought he could really control her, he had another think coming.

On a somewhat desperate whim, she grabbed her phone, turned it on and watched her fingers flying over the screen’s keyboard, texting James to ask if the Miami condo was free over New Year’s. She threw some clothes into a suitcase and kept shoving away her new reality – she wanted Evan Adams right now, all of him and everything he represented.

“Fuck!” she yelped after jamming her toe on the door jamb in her haste to get the hell out of her condo. “Damn you, Adams,” she muttered on her near ninety-mile-an-hour trip to the airport. She kept her foot hard on the gas, loving the way her new Merc flew by everyone and everything and not even caring if a cop dragged her down for speeding. At the Delta terminal, she jumped out and tossed her keys to someone, ready to spend whatever it took to completely escape. The airport wasn’t too busy and had a jolly, festive air that pissed her off even more.

She checked her bag and flopped into a seat in the Delta Sky Miles Lounge, holding a giant gin and tonic.
Might as well get into the sun and fun spirit now, eh Jules?
She raised the glass to the businessmen staring at her from across the lounge and took a sip. Her phone buzzed with a call – from Evan. “Shit.”

She hit the decline button and turned the stupid thing off. Her assistant knew she had another phone for emergencies only. Just as she was thinking that, it rang. She rolled her eyes when she recognized the Ann Arbor number. “Persistent” wasn’t a strong enough word. She couldn’t let him do this to her. She had no business depending on him – no matter how much she wanted to.

She drank, read a book or at least pretended to, then took her first class seat about an hour later. Sleep took her quickly as the jet flew south through the night, landing at the Miami Airport right after midnight. She jerked awake when the wheels hit the tarmac, stretched, and had a split second of confusion when she reached across the aisle for Evan’s hand. Until she recalled she had been ignoring him all day and had just bolted out of town without telling him anything. A tiny flutter of dread lit the edges of her consciousness. She was different now. They had an arrangement that implied she would not do this kind of thing, right?

Fuck that. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, and answered to no one, not even to a man she was dying to get her hands back on, and who was undoubtedly furious with her at this very moment. She de-planed, collected her bag, and hailed a luxury cab. Pouting her way through the dark Southern city, she sensed the tiny fear grow wings and start banging around against the inside of her skull. Biting her lip, she pulled her phone out of her bag and stared at it a minute before turning it on. She had never gone this long with the damn thing off.

What had gotten into her? Evan Adams had and he had to fucking go. She had no time for all this… craziness. She needed her equilibrium back, and the only way she’d get it would be to cut him loose.

The night city flew by, and by the time the car pulled up to the gated South Miami Beach enclave where she had spent her fake honeymoon – shopping, drinking, and sleeping – she’d composed a text to him and sent it.

Evan: Apologies for the short notice, but I need some space to decide if I made the right decision on Xmas eve. It’s not that our night wasn’t great. It was. It’s just there are some things about me you can’t or won’t understand. And I don’t feel I should have to explain every move I’ve made in my life or might make in the future to you. Don’t worry. I’m safe. Have a good New Year’s eve. J

She stared at the phone, willing it to show her the little icon indicating he was responding. But nothing followed, so she climbed out, paid the cab driver, and dug out her keys to the place. It was a peaceful retreat in a renovated building tucked away in the heart of Miami Beach. She’d had some fun times here, none of them involving sex with her husband of course, but lots of dinners, card games, and laughs. It was where he’d thanked her for concocting their ruse by handing her a credit card without a limit and never left her without a companion for dinner. He was a gorgeous man, and together they turned many heads. But he was gay, already had a lover, and she was nothing more than a tall, blond, hot beard who finally, for the first time in her life, did not have to give money a second thought.

“Fuck,” she muttered, fishing around in the shrubs for the keys she’d dropped. What a stupid, stupid thing she’d done, thinking she could get involved with a guy like Evan. He was exactly what she did not need – someone to upset her carefully constructed life.

By the time she got the front door open and dropped her baggage on the floor, all she wanted was another drink. But every light she tried defied her and the place stayed nearly pitch-black. “Shit, James, didn’t you call the super?” She fumbled with her phone, trying to remember what the guy’s name was who normally took care of the complex.

Fear struck her right in the chest when she heard a sound, a sort of shuffling noise, then smelled a lit match.

“Who’s there?” She reached for the mace can she’d packed in her checked bag, but only managed to trip and fall over the thing in the dark, landing on her hip and spilling the entire contents of her purse out onto the marble floor. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes.

She got to her feet and followed the single flickering light she could see in the far room, the one that opened onto the beach. And she was shocked to discover any fear she’d had at the original sound was gone. She pushed open the other side of the French doors, already knowing what she’d find in the next room.

“I can’t escape you, can I?” She tried to be flippant but her heart pounded so hard she could barely hear herself think. “How did you know… I mean, who let you in?”

She stood still, but her body was going into some kind of autonomic trance at the sight of Evan Adams, dressed as if he were going to court, in a dark blue suit, bright white shirt, and blood-red tie. He held the candle, so she couldn’t see much more than that. But the mere sight of him, there, in her stupid gay husband’s Miami Beach condo, dressed in a way that was making her mouth water, calmed her. She crossed her arms, resisting the urge to jump onto his lap and beg his forgiveness, drop to her knees and do whatever he wanted.

But he didn’t answer her. Just sat, then put the candle into a holder on the table next to him and crossed one ankle over the other knee, draping his arms along the back of the leather couch. The light flickered, threw odd shadows across his face. She shifted from foot to foot, unsure what to do or say. The cat,
her
damn cat, leapt into his lap, purring and glaring at her as well while Evan scratched behind his ears.

He sighed, uncrossed his legs, and kept staring at her. She looked down.

“You have been quite the challenge to find,” he finally said. His low, rumbly voice made her entire body tremble so much she had to grip the door handle to keep from falling to the floor. “That is completely unacceptable, Julie. I know I made you unhappy a few nights ago. But flying off the handle and jumping a plane to Florida? Telling no one and leaving poor Buddy here all alone?” He made a tsking sound with his tongue.

She bit her lip and realized she’d done something else wrong – she’d worn panties. She touched her hair, scraped back in a way he hated. The warm ocean breeze parted the curtains at the large door to the patio and pool, making the candle’s flame flicker.

“Besides the fact that it is a very immature stunt, I thought we had an understanding.” He kept talking, and the sound rolled around in her head like warm liquid, soothing her on the one hand but bringing a fresh shot of lust to her emotional mix.

The breeze cooled her skin, blew the forbidden ponytail into her face. She looked up at him, but he frowned so she looked down again. By the time she’d convinced herself not to cry he was standing in front of her as the cat wound around both of their ankles.

He put his hands on her shoulders, his touch sending that odd, welcome coating of quiet it always did along her nerve endings. “Julie,” he whispered, his lips at her ear. “You’ve done so many things to defy me today.” He pulled her hair loose from the tie-back. “So very many.” He reached up under her long, comfortable travel skirt, forcing her legs apart and ripping her panties into two scraps of silk. She grabbed his arm to keep from falling. “Don’t touch me, Julie. Not until I say so. I can tell we have more work to do than I thought. But first…”

He tilted her chin up so she met his eyes. They weren’t hard, or angry, or even full of lust. They were just – Evan: kind, compassionate, loving, and firm. That realization – that he was not mad at her, but just…
him
– made her want to burst into tears or laugh with relief.

“I’m sorry for being so nosy and upsetting you the other night. Truly. It is none of my business, and all I can say in my defense is I feel so very strongly about you.” He ran his hands up and down her arms, easing her anxiety and ramping up her desire at the same time. “I want you to be strong. I love that about you. It’s why I’m so drawn to you and you to me, believe it or not. And when you do something out of character, like not reporting the man who repeatedly raped you, it just rings false, not like you. So I got curious about your motivation. On the other hand, this whole running off thing,” he twirled his finger in the air, “this is you all over.”

She leaned into the backs of his fingers that he held to her flushed cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said, but her voice cracked. She felt frozen in place. He kissed her, just a light peck. Then ran his fingers through her hair and held on tight, making her gasp and her body zing.

“I know. But,” he licked her lips, bit her earlobe while keeping a tight, painful grip on her hair, “I
did
have a fun night planned for us. One you’ll never know about now, I guess.” He ran his other hand around her waist, grabbing her ass and pressing her close. “Yeah, you’ve done it to me again.” He sighed. “I’m so hard, I swear I could come rubbing against you fully clothed, you sexy bitch.”

“I want… I want to… please… Sir…” She shivered as he kept kissing and nibbling at her neck while never letting go of her scalp. She felt a tear slip out of one eye, smelled the ocean, his clean soapy scent, leather, wax, and her man’s need for her – a unique aroma she was coming to associate with the turned-on Evan, like the one holding her now.

Chapter Eleven

“So,” he said, slowly letting go of her hair and stepping back, “I’ve arranged for a bit of an abbreviated version of the New Year’s Eve I had set up.” He slipped out of his coat, loosened his tie, took off his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves. She stood watching, still frozen, until he put a hand to her face. “Follow me,” he said, then turned on his heel and walked into the pitch-black bedroom.

“How did you even know where I was? About this place?” she heard herself babbling as she stumbled after him. “Seriously, Evan. And why did you bring my cat?”

“Seriously, Julie, I called James. I was fucking worried about you. You cannot just drop off the face of the earth and expect me not to react. And Buddy looked so sad when I made the doorman open your condo for me, I just grabbed him and rented a carrier at the airport.”

“How did you know James’ number?”

He chuckled. “Your assistant Paul was a little freaked that you had gone incommunicado, so he called me, believe it or not.”

“Paul,” she said, shivering as the ocean breeze blew through the condo. Her brain was shutting down, as the humming sound she would come to associate with a hard discipline session was ramping up. She kept her eyes on Evan with his candle, the one point of light in the entire room.