Page 49 of Runaway Queen

Bran sighed and put his arms behind his head, looking at the blue fall sky. “That’s some fucked-up relationship you guys have there. Poor woman. She never really had a chance.”

To be free of me? No, she never did.

* * *

After breakfast with Bran,I checked out Edward Sloane. The man was predictable as hell, and considering how rich he was for the small town he lived in, he didn’t seem to exercise much caution. Given how he made his money, that was stupid, but then most rich men were. They seemed to think their money made them untouchable, while, in reality, it just made them a target.

He had a fancy little office in downtown Hade Harbor, but it didn’t take much digging around to see that it was a front. Sure, Sloane had invested his ill-gotten gains in plenty of legitimate ways from property to other small businesses. The guy clearly thought of himself as some kind of savior in the area, holding meetings where struggling business owners came to prostrate themselves for aid. It was sleazy as hell, and that was before you added in where his actual money came from.

I didn’t have any concrete evidence yet, but I would bet my life that Edward Sloane was part of the chain who transported drugs, arms, and people up and down the East Coast, and cut a pretty profit from it.

Later that night,I let myself into Sofia’s house when the sun had already set. Downstairs was painfully clean. I’d had a key made so I didn’t have to break in every time I wanted to visit my little runaway. I headed to the kitchen first. At breakfast time, it had been clear that Sofia’s fridge was running woefully low. I set the bags I’d brought on the table and the takeout on the counter. It had taken me a while after getting out of prison, but I was finally able to stomach a more varied diet. Tonight, I’d eat with Sofia, whether she liked it or not. I left the takeout under a towel to keep it warm and headed upstairs.

When I got to the top of the stairs, the shower was running. What lucky timing. I tried the handle of the bathroom. It turned easily under my hand.

The air was foggy and perfumed with lavender. Sofia’s body was clearly visible behind the misted glass. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, waiting for the water to go off. When it finally did, I grabbed a towel from the rack, just before Sofia’s hand appeared from behind the screen door to reach for it. Her gasp told me she’d finally opened her eyes and seen me, lurking in her white bathroom like a creep.

“What are you doing here?” She groped for the next nearest towel.

“You never put the chain on the door.”

“Like that would have stopped you,” she ground out.

She had a spark to her words tonight, and I enjoyed the sound.

“You think locking the front door is going to keep me from you? You think you can hide from me in a motel? You should know better. Come out here and let me see you.”

“What? No!”

“Come out, or I’ll come get you.”

After a moment where I could feel her battling with herself, she stepped out around the partition. She was holding the towel against her bare front. Just the sight of her bare legs, still dripping wet, turned me on. It had been so long. Endlessly long, really. Now, just the sight of Sofia’s bare shoulder, dotted with glistening water droplets, made me hard as nails. Ambling toward her, I reached out and took her towel. She held on to it for a moment, then released it. She was naked. I stared. I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. I might have forgotten to blink. It was dim in the bathroom, and I wanted to turn all the lights on and inspect every inch of her, but she was uncomfortable. I didn’t like to see it.

“What are you doing?” She was flushed. Her arm had covered her breasts, and another was slung around her middle.

“Looking at you. I want to see how my memories match up to the reality.”

I drew closer to her. She was stunning. Even more so than she’d been in her youth. Her body had developed a ripe, lush fullness she’d never had when she was younger and living on her father’s meal plan. Seven years, and her life alone had made her a woman.

“Have you let anyone else touch you?” My mind jumped from topic to topic. My tone was light, but the dark possession inside me was far from it.

“I told you I hadn’t been with anyone but you.”

“I’m not asking about fucking, I’m talking about all of it… kissing, touching, fucking handholding,” I clarified, that possessive demon inside me breaking free.

“Are you asking me about my dating life? You really think I’d tell you?”

I wandered behind her, reaching a hand toward her bare ass. Christ, it jiggled enticingly when she shifted her weight from one hip to another, tapping her foot.

“No, I don’t, I suppose. You’re too smart for that, and no one likes attending too many funerals. They’re always on a weekday, and who has the time?”

I couldn’t stop myself from gripping her ass. The bare cheeks were just too tempting. I took one in each hand and spread them apart. Her breath hitched, and she stepped forward, trying to get away from my touch. I tutted and pulled her back. My fingers wandered between her cheeks.

“I found a place you didn’t dry yet. Let me.”

I stroked my fingers up and down her cleft, past her tight asshole and down to her pussy. She was wet, enticingly so. I wrapped one arm around her neck from behind, her head landing in the crook of my arm. I carefully tightened it, until she was leaning back into my hand, with her back arched.

She swallowed against my forearm.

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