High Risk

CHAPTER 25

She held his arm as they paced along the main corridor. “Not that I want to change your plans, but what are your plans?”

Becki glanced up and down the hall, then pushed open an EMPLOYEES ONLY door. “I told you. I want a pretty view of the room.”

“Brilliant woman.” It was the most logical explanation for trespassing possible.

She’d found the correct door. The stairwell rose and she laughed softly, racing the stairs in her high heels with a lot less difficulty than she’d claimed.

They exited into a narrow corridor with doors off the right-hand wall.

“You have any idea where we’re going?” Marcus asked.

Becki paused. “I thought I did, but now . . .”

“Good.” Because he knew just the spot. “Follow me.”

The third door revealed his target. What would probably be called a theater box anywhere else, but here, it was a damn fine view overlooking the main dance floor and the grand ballroom.

Becki slipped beside him, resting her hands lightly on the railing as she peered down. “Whoa, that’s sweet.”

Shit. “No problem with the height?” Because having her freeze would totally make all the other plans winging through his brain impossible.

Becki looked again, then shook her head. “Not sure why, but this is okay.”

“Solid footing beneath you might make a difference.”

Then she stood and faced him. The powdery blue of her dress glistened with the fine threads of silver shot through the fabric. She’d twisted her hair into a fancy do, small bits hanging beside her face to frame her smile. A faint blush coloured her cheeks, her eyes outlined with thin blue that made her pupils look bigger. Or maybe that was because of the way she was looking him over, like he was on the menu.

He sure the hell hoped so.

“You have something else in mind other than checking out the fancy event from the heavens?” Because if she didn’t, he most certainly did.

She leaned toward him, and the fine silver chain around her neck swung forward, the tiny heart locket popping free from the neckline and flashing for a second in the light. “I’ve missed you,” she breathed quietly.

He waited. Damn if he didn’t want to do more, but this was her time to take the lead. And lead she did.

She pressed her hands to her waistline and skimmed lower over her hips, bending slightly until her fingers reached the bottom edge of her skirt. She didn’t have far to lean, not with the leading edge striking midway up her long limbs, but it was far enough to offer him a lovely view of the curve of her breasts, the creamy white shining against her dress like twin clouds in a blue sky.

“If you’re trying to drive me insane, it’s working. I think I just wrote a poem about your breasts.”

Becki caught hold of the edge of the material and wiggled it upward. “Poetry. Limericks or puns?”

“Fuck.” Marcus slammed his hand over his cock, needing something to ease how fast the damn thing had gotten hard. She wore stockings and a garter belt. Nothing else but her bare sex revealed as she held the dress to her waist. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“A bit repetitious for a poem, but kind of catchy. Yes. Let’s,” she commanded. He reached for her and she evaded him. “Not slow. Just hard and dirty. That’s what I want.”

Marcus had her pressed to the wall so fast she gasped. He pinned her in place with his body and ravished her mouth. Four days since they’d fought. Five days since he’d had her last, and he was an addict craving a hit.

Becki fumbled for his zipper as he touched her ass again and again. Hungry for her skin, wanting more than a fast fuck against the wall, but needing the fast first.

He slipped his hand between her legs, drawing moisture over her clit. Her head fell back as he thrust his fingers into her cunt and rubbed the clit bar with his thumb. Caught her neck and sucked. Bit down on the muscle of her shoulder as she creamed around his touch.

Frantic now, her breathing ragged. She’d managed to release his cock and somehow, both of them kissing, scrambling, she propped one leg up on the chair beside them and guided him into her heat.

It wasn’t enough. Melting into her, surrounded by her. Marcus slammed in all the way and she keened out her pleasure.

Becki caught hold of his face and kissed him wildly, teeth and tongue taking control. He was so big inside her, plunging deep. There was no ignoring his presence, although she’d tried for the past days. Mentally, he was there even when he wasn’t in the room, and she’d given up worrying about it.

Physically? God.

He filled her again, cock stretching her to the max. The solid wall cold behind her shoulders, his hot breath panting over her skin. He wasn’t careful, his fingers on her ass squeezing tight enough to leave bruises. She didn’t care, arching into his movements, helping him drive even harder.

She needed this. Wanted it. She’d missed him too damn much over the past few days, and taking charge and letting him know what she wanted made all the tension in her body finally ease.

He leaned his left elbow on the wall, steadying his torso over her. “You look like an angel in that dress.”

Becki lifted her leg higher and her breath hitched as he slammed in again, their groins snapping together. “Dark suit. Dark hair.” She pressed her hand against his cheek and the stubble. “Dangerous like a demon.”

“I needed this. Need to feel you around me.” Marcus slowed and leaned away slightly, peering down at where they joined. Her dress was scrunched around her waist, his cock sticking out from the fly of his suit pants wet with moisture, his belt done up and shirtfront still tucked in. “You fit me so perfectly.”

He eased back a bit more, pulling his hips away until the broad head of his cock clung to her lips. The purple head contrasted against the lighter colour of her body, soft skin wrapping around him as he eased forward and her body accepted him in.

“Oh God, Marcus.” Becki slipped her hand down and separated her labia, watching eagerly as he did it again. Deliberate. Thorough. The sight of him taking her made her limbs shake, combining vision with sensation that was powerful and edged her to the breaking point.

“I see your clit bar wiggle every time I fuck into you.” He moved again and hummed in approval. “It’s all wet and shiny with your juices. Makes me want to pull out and eat you alive.”

“No.” She clutched his shoulder with her left hand. “Don’t stop.”

“Play with yourself, sweet Becki. Let me see you come. Let me feel you on my cock.”

“If I touch myself, it’s all over,” she warned. “You’ve got me so ready. Hell, I’ve been ready for days.”

“Did you play with yourself when you were alone?” he asked.

When she didn’t answer, he pulled all the way out. A whimper of dismay escaped her. “Yes, but please. Finish me.”

He thrust into her fingers where she’d caught at him. “This is better with another person, isn’t it? Instead of cold toys, or your hand. That’s nothing but physical release. Takes off the edge but it’s missing something.”

He bumped the head of his cock against her opening, and she tilted her hips to help guide him back in. Her sigh of happiness matched the shiver of satisfaction that shook her to her toes. “Fuck me. Please, don’t stop.”

He kissed her and plunged in, swallowing her groan of pleasure. Three or four more times, deep and hard, burying himself to the root and pausing before withdrawing slowly, teasing her already quivering nerves.

She slipped her fingers higher and flicked the tiny gold bar the way she knew was most effective, and that was it.

“Marcus . . .”

He covered her mouth with his and stopped her screams from echoing off the roof as her climax broke her apart. Her sheath constricted around his heavy shaft, tearing his response from him. Wetness and heat bathed her as he ground their hips together, moving the clit bar and prolonging the ecstasy flooding her system.

They clung to each other until the shaking stopped, their breathing uneven and ragged as they gasped to find control. The continuing clatter of the party below them rose to the balcony. Tinkling of glasses, the low murmur of masculine tones, the occasional higher-pitched female laugh.

Sophisticated and mature sounds. Miles away from the hell, yeah whispering past her lips.

Marcus caught her chin in his hands. “You are one in a million.”

He kissed her again, less like a starving animal and more as if he were a good friend who’d missed her. Wetness trickled down the inside of her legs as he withdrew his cock.

Marcus stared. When she would have wiped herself clean, he pinned her arms back. “Wait. That is so fucking sexy.”

His gaze locked between her thighs, he squatted and ran his fingers through his seed and her wetness, stroking her labia lightly.

She shivered. “I’m not going to be able to walk if you touch me again.”

The intensity on his face should have scared her. She’d spent the past few days trying to figure out exactly what she wanted to work on over the next months. Making sure she was clear on her desires, her needs. Who was in charge of her life. All of it, not just her sex drive.

When he cupped her sex so delicately, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her clean—

All her organized thoughts vanished in the continuing desire he stroked from her willing body. This man could turn her best plans to nothing with a single glance.

He cleaned her, straightened her stockings, planting kisses on the insides of her thighs as he smoothed them into position. Easing his palm down her skirt to help it lie neatly over her ass. All the while, wearing an expression of huge satisfaction.

“Since I plan on hanging on to you for the rest of the evening and even dancing, you might want to try to look a little less contented before we head back to the ballroom or there will be no doubt whatsoever we were up to something.”

“They can all be jealous I’ve got the most beautiful girl in the room.”

Marcus stood and pressed her to the wall, and she let him hold her there. She smoothed his hair with her fingers. “That was lovely. Thank you.”

He nodded. “Would you accompany me home after the gala tonight?”

Asking, not ordering. Politely worded even. She beamed at him. “I’d like that very much.”

Grinning like the conspirators they were, they slipped back down the stairs, pausing outside the party.

Becki tugged him to a stop, smoothing her hands over her hair. “How do I look?”

“Like you were ravished by a madman against a wall,” he whispered.

A snort of laughter escaped before she could stop it.

Marcus pirouetted her, his gaze lingering on her legs before snapping back up to her breasts and finally her face. “You look gorgeous. I can’t wait to show you off.”

She twirled a finger and he obediently rotated for her inspection. All the long, lean length of him, moving at her command, and when he faced her again, she couldn’t speak.

He lifted a brow. “That bad?”

“That good. I’m drowning in my drool over here.”

He held out his hand and escorted her back into the frivolity. Small talk and music. Happy smiles, and the occasional questioning look. Marcus hadn’t bothered to wear his prosthesis, and the gazes of people who didn’t know him stuttered to a stop on his pinned-up jacket sleeve.

Becki pulled him toward the side of the stage, ignoring the curious. They were there; the event was going well. Inconsequential things could be ignored. And tonight she would go home with him. Even having one thing settled was a relief.

Happy endorphins still hummed through his bloodstream, making it far easier to give in to Becki’s determined tug across the ballroom. Marcus would have been happy leaving now, but if he had to put in a little more face time, hiding with his team was as good a place as any.

The women held court over the Lifeline team, Devon shadowing Alisha.

“Did you speak yet?” Becki asked Alisha.

The blonde shook her long curls. “David said to wait until the top of the hour, so about fifteen minutes still.”

“Marcus, you wash up pretty well,” Erin teased. “So good to see you. Isn’t it good to see him, Anders?”

“Shut up,” Anders grumbled.

Marcus eyed them all. Erin’s grin was far bigger than usual—normally it was Anders wearing the Cheshire grin while his pilot carried herself with far more control. “What did I miss?”

“Name the last time you showed up at one of these events,” Anders complained. “Erin bet you’d be here, but I went with the odds. You cost me fifty bucks.”

“Well, sorry for being unpredictable, but it’s the best way to keep you on your toes.” Anders stared rather pointedly at Becki on his arm, and Marcus laughed. “Also, can’t help it if you aren’t more observant of what’s happening around you.”

A flash went off to their right. Marcus blinked rapidly as he twisted to face the culprits. Ted and his cohort with the camera smiled politely, but their focus was on Becki and not the team, and all sorts of warning signals went off inside.

“There you are.” Devon stepped forward, strategically plopping himself directly in front of Alisha and Erin. “We were talking about you. We thought a photo shoot by the windows would work if you’d like to wait until after Alisha’s spoken.”

“Sounds great,” Ted agreed. “First, I wanted to get a few general questions answered.”

Marcus squeezed Becki’s fingers where they lay on his arm. He backed up, doing the same as Devon and blocking Ted from a clear shot at the ladies. “We’ll leave you to them, then.”

He turned and tucked an arm around Becki. Trying to make their departure look less like fleeing and more like a casual need to get somewhere else.

Ted didn’t let them take more than a few steps before raising his voice loud enough to be overheard by the partygoers standing nearby. “Before you go, Becki, did you have anything you wanted to share regarding your accident?”

Goddamn reporters. Marcus was going to rip his head off. Becki pulled to a stop, patting Marcus’s arm soothingly. “Don’t worry, it’s not an issue.”

She smiled at the curious onlookers as she turned, facing Ted with a slight shake of her head. “Actually, no. I think you can find everything on file you need. If you don’t mind . . .”

“I meant regarding the new developments,” Ted interrupted. “Will you be going back to Yellowstone for the funeral now that they found your partner’s body?”

It wasn’t a gasp that escaped Becki, more like a total and complete cessation of breathing altogether. Marcus caught his arm around her as she wavered. Questions and confusion rose on the air as the news spread rapidly, as those who hadn’t been aware of Becki’s presence caught hold of the word and turned to see what was going on.

“Ted, not here—” Marcus’s attempt to slow down the train was destroyed by the very insistent man.

“I have the news report from the team that found him earlier today. Seems there’re some irregularities. Have you been contacted yet by the state police to find out if you can help answer their questions?”

“What irregularities? Where did you get this information?” Becki had Marcus’s hand in a tight grip, but she was moving now, stepping across the room to Ted’s side. Another flash went off, and Becki glared at the cameraman. “Call off your hound and let’s go somewhere private to finish this.”

Marcus tugged her back. “Don’t talk to him. We can go. We can make the calls ourselves to find out what the ass is up to.”

She pressed her lips close to his ear and whispered rapidly, “But if we get him out of the room, he can’t continue to mess up David’s event.”

He didn’t give a damn about the fund-raiser right then. All his energies were aimed in one direction—getting Ted away from Becki as soon as possible. “Let’s take this outside, Ted.”

Ted lifted his hands in protest, then pointed toward where the Lifeline crew had all risen to their feet, standing at attention. “Just wanted to get a reaction from the team as well. Since Becki’s been training them.” Ted checked a paper he pulled from his pocket. “How do you feel learning that Dane’s safety line appears to have been cut?”