The Confession (20 page)

I swallowed. Or tried to, at least.

“Get in the backseat,” he ordered. “Take off your shorts and spread your legs.”

His hand withdrew suddenly, leaving my head spinning. He left the car, and for a few seconds I stared after him in shock, wondering what he was doing. Then the back hatch opened, and he reached into the trunk, eyes blazing.

“The backseat.” The words were a crisp demand.

I shimmied over the center console onto the soft leather of the backseats. I didn't know how he was planning on doing this; he was much too big for both of us to lie in the right positions. But before I could consider it too long, my seat reclined to an almost flat position. He did the same with the other side, making a makeshift bed that connected to the trunk.

“Your shorts,” he reminded me.

I shivered in anticipation as the trunk closed.

Quickly, I pulled them down, leaving my pink satin panties. I wanted him to see them, not that he could get much of a view in the car. The back was sheer, with a small bow that landed at the base of my spine. I thought he might like that.

The door opened and he returned inside, hair wet and messed and dripping down his jaw. His button-up shirt stuck to his chest, outlining every muscle. The butterflies exploded in my belly as he tilted his chin toward the back of the vehicle.

Wordlessly, I scooted back, keeping my eyes on his. I was already trembling, and a thin sheen of perspiration covered my skin. It had been a long time since we'd done this. How many times had I fantasized about it? How many times had I touched myself these last few months, only to reach a disappointing climax?

The interior light in the car flickered off.

He crawled toward me, muscles rolling like a jungle cat. I pulled at the bottom of my tank top, feeling the fabric stretch. It seemed suddenly too tight. This compartment was too small. I could hear Alec's measured breaths, feel his presence taking up every inch of space.

“Open,” he said.

My trembling knees spread, my bare heels still planted in the seat cushion. There was barely enough light to see; I wished I could read his expression, but all I could make out was his shape.

The seat creaked under his weight. His hands rested on my knees, then slid down the outside of my thighs to the thin straps on my panties. One hand curved beneath my bottom, feeling the fabric and then manipulating the bow. His breath warmed my shin.

“Very nice,” he said.

The compliment made me shine. It had been a long time since I'd wanted to dress sexy and be noticed.

Slowly, he grabbed the sides, and inched the thin fabric down my legs.

He wasn't going to kiss me, not on the mouth at least. There was no urgency in his movements, even as I began to tremble. It was like he had all night.

“You're shaking,” he said.

“You're killing me.”

He chuckled. “No, I think the opposite is true.”

When my panties were finally off my legs, he lifted one ankle and kissed the top of my foot.

“If you need to stop, it's okay,” he said, breaking from commanding Alec to give my heart a hard lurch. “Just being with you, like this. It's enough.”

But it wasn't. Not for me.

I shook my head. “I don't want to stop.”

He placed himself between my knees.

“Spread your legs,” he said. “Wide. I want to see you.”

I lay back, biting my lower lip hard as I opened my legs.

“Wider.”

I stretched them open as far as I could, until I could feel my damp lips exposed, and the cool air on my center. My hands were fisted in the bottom of my shirt, and I stared at the ceiling of the car, praying that he liked what he saw.

A finger gently circled my opening. Then skimmed up one side to my clit, and down the other. The back of the knuckles of his opposite hand rubbed the bottom of my buttocks. I tried to hold still. I tried, but it was impossible. I was already squirming.

“So sensitive,” he murmured.

He blew over my pussy, and I arched back. He wasn't even touching me now, and I was close to coming. I could feel that desperate, familiar flush already creeping up my spine.

“You're so beautiful,” he muttered. “Everywhere.”

I loved hearing that edge in his voice. He wasn't as in control as he was letting on.

The heat of his breath touched me an instant before his lips. It was a slow, dark, sensual kiss that moved from the top of my slit lower, and lower, until his tongue slipped inside.

I ripped apart that fast. The heat tore down my limbs, then raced back up, exploding in my core. I threw one arm over my mouth to stifle the yell, but it barely helped. The noises I made were wild. My toes fanned out, my feet flexed. I tried to push away from him, but his arms had wrapped around my thighs.

While I was still reeling, he bit the inside of my thigh, drawing my attention to a different kind of sensation.

“Yes,” he hissed. “I'm so hard. God, Anna. Those sounds you make.”

It was as he had said. A conquering. He got off on the knowledge that he, only he, could give me a pleasure this intoxicating.

He nibbled his way back toward my center.

“Wait . . .” I pushed up to my elbows. It was too soon, I was still too sensitive.

He didn't care.

He buried his face between my legs. My soft, swollen lips against his. His tongue dipping inside of me, deeper, until his teeth scraped me. His hands spreading me wide, palms on my inner thighs while his tongue lashed at my clit.

The tension built and built and the orgasm hit me so hard the frames of my vision turned white. I grabbed his hair, all thoughts vanquished, and held him against me while he licked and sucked and kissed. His fingers joined his mouth. One pumped inside of me, then two. Then his thumb pressed against my ass. He reached up with his other, beneath my shirt, beneath the cup of my bra, to pinch my nipple. A band formed between the places he touched—my ass, my cunt, my breast. It tightened, and tightened, and then snapped. I shouted his name. I thrashed and fought and ultimately surrendered.

His pace slowed. I lost time. I may have blacked out. I was covered in sweat, slick with what he'd done to me. He lapped at me slowly, using the back of his tongue, the rough part, all over. He said I was soft, so soft, the softest thing he'd ever touched. He said I tasted like the ocean. He said he wanted me like he'd never wanted anything in his entire life. He said my sweet cunt belonged to him, and my pleasure belonged to him, and that I was his.

He said he loved me. He said my name:
My Anna. Sweet Anna. My dirty girl.

And after I broke that final time, he rose, the evidence of what he'd done gleaming his mouth, and gathered me against his chest while the rain outside continued its assault.

I
was still having trouble making my legs work right by the time we finally entered the twenty-four-hour supermarket. I tried to pawn my clumsiness off on my slippery, wet flip-flops, but Alec only smiled smugly and kept an arm around my shoulder for support.

As we got a cart and passed the checkout counters, one of the employees, a guy in his early twenties with a killer tan and a T-shirt with Greek letters peeking out from above his apron, did a double take. For a moment I thought he'd recognized us, even in the baseball caps Alec had pulled from the back of the car. But then I realized my white tank top was now see-through from the rain, and doing little to hide the pink bra beneath. Lucky for me, the fabric was thin enough to showcase just how well the store's high-powered air-conditioning worked.

The checker grinned, then pulled a phone out of his pocket and began texting. Now closer, I could see that his shirt boasted a university emblem. He was probably going to college at one of the local schools. Fucking frat boys. I pulled the second skin off my stomach and turned Alec's attention toward the produce section before he caught on.

As soon as he was out of sight, he was out of mind. Alec and I were the only ones around, and I was thrilled about some time away from the apartment. We picked up things we needed, discussed the phallic nature of butternut squash, and made out surrounded by pretzels. He tickled my ribs, I escaped. He caught me, I ground my ass against his semihard cock. He made threats. I made promises.

In the cereal aisle he stopped and stared at the rows of cartoon characters promising their contents were made of whole wheat.

“You really think I'm bossy?” he asked. I'd forgotten I'd told him that in the car.

“You really think I'm pretty?”

He smirked, picking up a box of Crunch Berries. Fixing his gaze on the nutrition facts as if there might be some redeeming quality in a cereal that was both blue and pink.

“Too bossy?” he asked.

“Too pretty?”

He barked out a laugh. “Yes.”

I slipped my hands in his back pockets and rested my cheek between his shoulder blades.

“I like it,” I said. “Besides. Boss me around all you like. We both know who's in charge.”

I was kidding. But he wasn't when he said, “Yeah. I know.”

It was so like a date, I forgot we were in a supermarket, in the middle of the night. We walked up and down the aisles, talking, telling stories, laughing. Remembering.

What it was like when we were together.

What it was like when we were apart.

What it felt like to matter, mean something, be
everything
, to someone.

Frat Boy ruined it.

He was in the bread aisle, pretending to organize when we came around the bend. Instantly, Alec and I pulled apart, realizing the weight of what it would mean if someone caught us together in public. His cover with Janelle would be blown. The media would have a heyday.

Who knew what Maxim Stein would do.

Frat Boy didn't even look at us until we passed. But the second we did, I heard it—the click of a picture being taken. Alec and I both turned, too quickly for Frat Boy to hide his smart phone. He tried to stuff it in his apron.

Alec strode straight up to him, and I hastily followed, feeling his intentions in the fury sparking off of him.

“Give me the phone,” he said, holding out his hand.

Frat Boy scowled and stepped back, straight into the soft cushion of the bread aisle. His cheeks turned a blotchy red.

“I don't know what . . .”

“The fucking phone,” Alec annunciated.

“Screw you,” said Frat Boy. “Get your own fucking phone.”

Before Alec could act, I jumped between them, my back to the checker, my hands on Alec's hard chest. He didn't look at me—his gaze stayed over me, pinned on Frat Boy.

“Where'd you send the pictures?” Alec asked.

My stomach felt like I'd missed a step going down stairs.

“Nowhere. You're crazy.”

“I'm going to ask you one more time, then I'm going kick your ass, you understand?”

“Alec,” I whispered. “Come on. Let's just go.”

His pecs flexed beneath my hands. A buzzing filled my ears. This guy had taken pictures. Pictures were bad. I immediately saw an image of myself sprawled out over Maxim's bare chest. Bad, bad, bad.

Frat Boy said nothing. Then I heard a rustle of his hand in his apron.

“There's this local celebrity site. I just posted a couple.”

I turned around.

“We're not celebrities.”

He laughed, like I'd said something funny, but the sound died in his throat when Alec took another step closer.

“He's on the news,” said Frat Boy, nodding at Alec. “There was a skit about the whole thing on
Saturday Night Live
last weekend. And you're his mistr— like, girlfriend, right?”

Alec's hand shot out and grabbed Frat Boy's T-shirt around the collar. This time I didn't stop him.

“Let me see what you posted,” I said, my voice like syrup.

He swallowed, looking around for backup. “You've already gotten like eighty hits. No one gets that kind of play unless you can see tits or ass. It's a compliment, if you ask me.”

He wilted under Alec's glare. After a moment, he handed the phone over. Alec released him and flipped through the pictures. There were a dozen, at least. Me in my see-through shirt, arms hooked around Alec's neck. Us kissing. His hand in my back pocket while we walked. Us laughing.

“Shit,” I said.

“It's nothing personal,” Frat Boy said.

It's nothing personal.
Maxim's words. My breath came in one harsh pull, loud enough that both men turned to stare at me.

“It's our lives.” My voice shook. “It's
my
goddamn life.” I stepped closer. This time it was Alec's hand on my shoulder. He stopped me, but I could feel the rage just beneath the surface.

He stuffed the phone in his pocket, and lifted a cold gaze to the other man.

“You've got three seconds to get out of my sight.”

Frat Boy scrammed, tripping over his own shoes before he hit the turn. Alec grabbed my hand. We left the cart. He pulled me toward the exit, but it was too late. There was a car outside, another pulling into the parking lot. The door opened. A flash blinded me.

“Mr. Flynn! Does Ms. Jamison know of your affair?”

“Is it true, Ms. Rossi, that you worked for Maxim Stein as his personal masseuse? What else did you do for Mr. Stein?”

“Ms. Rossi, how does your relationship with Mr. Flynn affect the trial?”

The questions rolled out as a third car pulled in. A woman in an orange rain slicker jumped from the passenger seat with a video camera.

“Jesus,” Alec muttered. “Keep your head down.”

We ran toward the SUV, the place that had less than an hour ago been our safe haven. We shouldn't have ever left the apartment. What would have happened if they'd caught us in the car together? What if
those
pictures had surfaced?

I never wanted to see myself in another photograph again.

In the front seat of the car I doubled over, face in my hands as Alec sped from the parking lot. He went the opposite direction, making turn after turn I didn't recognize. The apartment at Mac's restaurant had only been five minutes from the store, but we were still driving twenty minutes later.

I finally looked back, no one was following.

Alec fished his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number.

“Matt, hey. We have a problem.” He paused. “More pictures. Some jackass in the supermarket caught me and Anna.” Another pause, and this time I could hear his teeth click together. “She won't leave again. Look, can you do your thing? The guy said people were already commenting on them. I'll meet you at the apartment with his phone.”

“
More
pictures?” I asked weakly. “The other photos . . .” Me. Maxim. My nearly naked body. I grabbed the door as he swung around another curve.

“Not those photos,” he said. “Pictures of me.”

I waited a beat. “This has happened to you before?”

He nodded, thumb tapping the wheel.

“This kind of thing happens to you often,” I said.

His gaze shot in my direction. “I thought it was late enough, you'd be all right. I didn't think this would happen.” He shook his head. “Fuck. I didn't think.”

He beat himself up in silence while I considered what he'd said. Frat Boy wasn't kidding. Alec
was
a celebrity now. I knew he'd been in the newspaper and on the news broadcasts, but I'd deliberately turned off my Internet since he started popping up because it hurt too much to see him. Strangers were taking pictures of him.
Saturday Night Live
had done something.

I looked across the cabin at him, horrified. He wasn't a public person. He didn't like the spotlight. He'd flown under the radar his whole life—first with his alcoholic father, and then with a criminal megalomaniac boss. He was way out of his league here.

My poor Alec.

I searched for something to break the tension. Something told me he wouldn't have believed
It's not your fault
.

“At least you don't have to pretend with Janelle anymore,” I said. It made me feel a little better, at least.

The wheels whirred over the wet pavement.

“You have to stay at the apartment until this clears,” he said. “If I could be sure you'd have protection, I'd send you as far away from me as possible.”

I stiffened.

“Because that worked so well before.”

“Max will know you're with me,” he said sharply. “If he wants to find you, all he has to do is follow me.”

“Then let him,” I said. “Let him find me. I've got a few things I want to say to him.”

He scoffed. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

I turned to face him, blood simmering. “I don't? It was
me
he took, Alec.
Me
he drugged. My naked body he used for his porno pictures.”

“Stop!” Alec slammed his hand down on the steering wheel.

“I won't stop!” I shouted. “I get to face him. You know what he told me? He said it
wasn't personal
. He fucked up my life, and it wasn't personal.”

Alec slammed on the brakes, and I braced myself against the dashboard. I looked up. We were back at the apartment. Another set of headlights was pulling in behind us, and I ducked behind the seat before I recognized Matt's car.

“It wasn't just you he took,” Alec said quietly. “I bled the whole time you were missing. I still do, every single day. I've thought of twenty different ways to kill him, Anna, and every minute that passes that I don't makes me less worthy to be your man.”

My rage hit a brick wall.

“I'm sorry for what happened tonight,” he said. “It won't happen again.”

With that, he left the car, walked me to the door, and left me inside while he went to talk to Matt.

*   *   *

I paced around the apartment for ten minutes. Then twenty. I peeked out the curtains for Matt, but though he was in his car, with the lights on, Alec was nowhere to be seen.

I moved to the veranda, and searched through the darkness. The rain had stopped its tantrum for the time being, and the sand on the beach was glowing a pale silver. After a moment I saw him walk around the edge of the darkened restaurant. He stopped as a motion-activated light flipped on, then pulled a chair from the deck beneath it. I watched as he climbed up to adjust the positioning.

He checked all the lights, making sure we were safe. Then he disappeared again within the restaurant.

I thought of what he'd said. How he'd bled for me when I was gone. I had no doubt that was true—Alec internalized his pain like no one I'd ever met. I could feel it when I'd tried to massage his shoulders and seen it in the shadows beneath his eyes. I thought of Frat Boy, and how Alec had been made into some sort of celebrity. Part of me wanted to find my cell phone and turn on the Internet feature, just to look up what people were saying, but I stopped myself. If there was anything that could make me homicidal, it was someone hurting him.

I bled for him, too.

The door creaked and made a suction noise as he entered. He looked tired now—it was close to two in the morning. He barely glanced at me as he put a plate on the counter.

“I got some stuff for a sandwich from the restaurant,” he said. “I know it's not what you had in mind, but . . .”

“Alec.”

He rolled back his shoulders, and slowly lifted his eyes to mine, as if this took some feat of strength.

I moved closer. Closer, until the wariness in his deep blue eyes turned to curiosity. I reached for his belt, and unhooked it.

“I don't want us to hurt anymore,” I said.

I lowered to my knees.

“Anna.” He reached for my hair, combing it back with his fingers.

I unhooked the button, slowly unzipped his fly.

“Leave everything else outside,” I said. “All that matters is inside. You and me, right?”

He whispered my name, a broken sound that made my heart lurch. I didn't know what the future would bring, but I knew us. I knew he needed to regain some of the control he'd lost. I knew I needed him to take it.

“Right?” I asked again, looking up at him as I tugged his still-damp jeans down his legs.

“Right,” he said.

He stepped out of his pants, and I pulled my tank top over my head. He leaned back to look at me.

“Do you like the way I look?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I bit my bottom lip, liking the immediacy of his answer. My eyes lowered. Directly before me was his cock, covered by the thin cotton of his black boxer briefs. It looked huge, jutting up at an angle, the head barely still trapped beneath the elastic waistband.