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  She glanced behind her to find Connor staring at her ass as she walked, so she put a little swing in her hips and savored his groan. Damn. She’d definitely never had this much fun at a courthouse.

  A moment later, she and Connor stepped into an empty elevator. She hit the button for the top floor even though the clerk was on the first, and leaned back against the wall, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “How was your morning, baby? Was it worth leaving me in bed, all hot and bothered for you?”

  “Fuck no, it wasn’t.” He crooked a big finger at her. “Climb on up here.”

  Erin didn’t hesitate. With a tight grip on his broad shoulders, she hooked one thigh around his waist and used it as leverage to wrap the other one around, too. Her skirt rode up with the action, allowing the thick ridge behind his fly to nudge her panties. They sucked in equally shaky breaths.

  Connor crossed his wrists at the small of his back, as if to restrain himself from touching her. “You didn’t like someone else touching me. Say it.”

  She pressed her forehead against his, pushed hard. “I hated it.”

  “Put your hand between your legs.” When she hesitated for the barest moment, he nudged her forehead back and spoke through his teeth. “Do it now.”

  Erin removed one hand from his shoulders, dragging her fingers over the inside of her thigh before cupping her core. Breath raced in and out past her lips, excitement a living thing in her veins. Against her palm, she could already feel the cotton material dampening.

  “Give it a slap for me. An easy one, sweetheart. We’ll save the harder ones for my hand.” He licked the seam of her lips. “Say my name when you do it.”

  The elevator pinged, signaling that they’d reached the top floor. Without taking his eyes off her, Connor reached over and pulled the emergency stop switch. Erin laughed, but it turned into a moan when he rolled his hips, pressing her hand more firmly between her legs. He nipped at her bottom lip, a reminder to do as she was told. Feeling overwhelmed in the best way, she slapped herself, right over the sensitive spot crying out for attention. Unexpected sensation racked her, tearing a moan from her lips.

  “Connor.”

  “I told you last night, Erin. That’s where I come.” He grazed her jaw with his teeth. “Every time you get jealous, remind yourself just like that. Slap it for me and say my name. Understand?”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  “I want to ask you a question.” He started to say more, then stopped, taking her mouth in a hot, openmouthed kiss. She couldn’t stop her fingers from slipping into her panties and rubbing circles over her clit, mimicking the stroking movements of his tongue. It wouldn’t take any time at all to find the edge and let herself fall. Just his voice, his body, his words were driving her to the brink of climax.

  Addicted. I’m addicted and I love it.

  “W-what do you want to a-ask me?”

  He ran his tongue up the side of her neck. “Ah, Erin. When can I get my mouth on your gorgeous pussy? I want it so bad. Want your heels buried in my back…your fingers yanking at my hair. You have no idea what a scream sounds like until I’ve been between your thighs with my tongue feasting on your clit.”

  The orgasm blindsided her, made her shake head to toe as she writhed against her hand. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

  “Good girl. That’s what you needed, wasn’t it?” His quick inhales rasping in her ear, he reached over and slammed his fist against the first-floor button. “If we had time, I’d take out my cock and fuck you against the goddamn wall right now. Expect to get it hard later, sweetheart.”

  Her legs stopped clenching as the tremors passed and she slid down his body, landing on her feet to sway back against the wall. She watched Connor adjust himself in his jeans and almost groaned at the renewed surge of arousal from seeing him touch himself. “How’s my hair?”

  His mouth edged up at the corners. “Pretty fucked up.”

  She tugged her skirt back into place. “Cool.”

  The elevator door rolled open and she stepped out. Before she could make it one step, Connor’s mouth found her neck and she came to a halt. Feels so good. “Hey.” The pride in his voice had her turning around to search his face. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “You just rode an elevator.”

  Shock trickled in slowly, mingling with amazement. How had she done something usually so terrifying without even realizing it? “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.” His smile faded into a serious expression. “Great job, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks. Or…or whatever.” She’d done it because he’d been with her, distracting her. Making her feel safe. If she thought too much about it, she was going to cry, so she leaned forward and dropped a kiss over his heart. She turned and continued walking toward the clerk’s office, but not before she saw Connor press a hand over the spot she’d kissed. And fuck if that didn’t make her want to cry even more.

  Connor had never been to a wedding before, but he suspected they were usually a little more romantic than this one. Fluorescent lighting and some bored government worker’s voice droning the words you were supposed to recite didn’t feel momentous. That is, until Bowen and Sera repeated the words back to each other. Even the clerk perked up a little at the sincerity in their speech. They might as well have been the only two people on the planet for all the attention they paid everyone else. Bowen, focused on Sera as usual, looked like he wanted the words spoken and done with so he could haul her out of there over his shoulder. Sera looked like she wanted to reach out and soothe him.

  Damn. This wedding shit really shouldn’t have gotten to him, but he found himself remembering how the three of them had met. How they’d all been marked for death at one point, but come out alive and better than before when any possible outcome had seemed bleak. How they’d formed an unlikely friendship even though they’d been on opposing sides, pitted against one another. For the first time in his life, he’d watched good triumph over evil. They’d come a long way in such a short space of time, and it hit home now, as they made even more promises to each other.

  Not surprisingly, he found himself looking at Erin. He’d always given Bowen a hard time for his obsession with Sera and her safety. His constant vigilance and fear of something happening to her. He could understand it now. Jesus, could he ever. As if he’d spoken out loud, Erin looked over at him from her position behind Sera and stuck out her tongue. A smile transformed her face and she ducked her head, as if embarrassed she’d let the show of happiness slip. If it was up to him, he’d be seeing a lot more of that beautiful smile. He wanted to see it constantly, and he wanted it directed at him.

  Before the clerk had even gotten finished pronouncing Bowen and Sera husband and wife, Bowen launched himself across the space separating him from his new wife and wrapped her in his arms. Erin gave Connor a meaningful look and backed away quietly, obviously wanting to give the couple their space. The clerk scratched his head, appearing to be at a loss for what to do with the embracing couple, but Erin didn’t seem inclined to stick around and offer her assistance. Connor followed her from the room, checking the urge to rest his hand at the small of her back. All in good time.

  Two men in suits entered the elevator with them on the way back down to the lobby. Erin scowled at their backs the entire way and he would have laughed if he weren’t still feeling the evidence of what they’d done earlier. His pants felt tight, his mouth unsatisfied from not tasting enough of her. As soon as they got home, he would remedy that. Thinking of creative ways to get her off without his hands was fast becoming his favorite pastime.

  He followed Erin off the elevator and out of the courthouse, enjoying the sway of her hips, the sultry looks she cast him over her shoulder. The girl wanted to get home just as badly as he did, but she had no idea what she’d unleashed. She sure as hell wouldn’t be walking as gracefully tomorrow. When she came to a dead stop at a few yards from the bus stop, he almost ran into her. Connor started to ask her what was wrong, but her whole body started to
tremble.

  “Erin?” He circled around her to scan her face. Her terrified expression ruptured something inside him. It called to memory the night she’d broken into his apartment to get near a window. The Erin he’d walked out of the courthouse with was nowhere to be found. Protect her. Heal her. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

  “He’s here,” she whispered. “The face behind the fire. I see him. Do you see him?”

  “The face—” He didn’t understand what she meant by that, but to the best of his knowledge, there was only one “he” who could scare her like this. “Your stepfather?”

  She stumbled back a step, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. Her gaze was fixed across the street and Connor followed it. A man stood on the opposite side of the traffic. Smiling. Under his arm was a rolled-up newspaper. He would have looked like everyone else passing by, would have blended right in, if it weren’t for the hatred in his eyes. Centered on Erin.

  Rage tried to run loose through his bloodstream, but he fought it back. He needed to handle this calmly. Both of them couldn’t lose their heads at the same time. He needed to be strong for her even though his instincts were calling for him to cross the street at a dead run and mow the son of a bitch down. “Don’t look at him. Look at me. Erin.” She wasn’t hearing him, but he couldn’t touch her to shake her. Frustration dug into his gut like tenterhooks. “I’m going to take care of this. But I won’t leave you until you’re okay.” Until I know you won’t run.

  Finally, her glazed eyes focused on him, as if his worry over her running had been spoken out loud. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  “No.”

  Her nod was unsteady. “He found me. I don’t know how he found me.”

  Connor shot a look back toward the man. Still there. Still smiling. He needed to get over there and wipe it right off his goddamn face, but he was glued to the sidewalk. She was going to run and he had to stop her. How? How could he stop her when he hurt her by touching her, when she was already having a panic attack and the slightest touch could make it worse? “I need you to come back to me, Erin. Look at me and trust me.”

  “I can’t come back. He knows I’m here now.”

  She’d misunderstood him, but her response chilled him to the bone. She meant to run and never come back. Leave Chicago. Leave him. Around him, the world contorted, passersby’s voices sounding unnatural. “We’ll go together. Don’t do this. I won’t let him near you, Erin. You have to know I’d die first.”

  Her gaze cleared. “Exactly.”

  And then she ran. Until that moment, until Connor was chasing her through street vendors and harried locals, he hadn’t fully understood exactly how adept Erin was at escaping. Her slight form weaved in and out of business suits and tourists with maps like an exotic jungle cat, sleek and agile. He could hear the jingling of her boots, taunting him as he followed her path. Back in the SEALs, he’d undergone training that should have made it simple to catch up with a single female, stop her from running. It shouldn’t have been this difficult to track her movements, especially when people were giving them both wide berth, sprinting as they were down the busy sidewalk.

  One second, he had sight of her blond hair and the next, she was gone. Disappeared.

  Connor spun in a circle in the middle of a crosswalk, scanning the streets frantically. Looking for any sign of which direction she might have taken. Hoping people would turn their heads to indicate she had just run past. Hear the sounds of her bells tinkling. But there was nothing.

  Gone. She was gone.

  The demons she’d slain inside him regenerated…and roared to life.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Erin ignored the stabbing pain in her heart as she circled back toward the courthouse. She tried to banish the devastation on Connor’s face when she’d run from him, but it wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t helping. It hurt. She wanted him to go away so she could focus on what she needed to do. Just focus. As she’d booked it down the sidewalk, she’d fought the need to turn around and run straight back to Connor. The farther she’d gotten from her stepfather, the more her head had cleared. She didn’t want to run away. Not permanently. Not when it made her feel like her insides were being shredded with every step.

  Which meant she had some work to do.

  This, her stepfather, was her cross to bear. No one else’s. She’d left him alive and with a shit-ton of incentive to hunt her back down, although she still had no idea how he’d tracked her to Chicago. She would be finding out soon enough. She’d handle her problem and get back to Chicago and Connor. And fuck it, her friends. She had friends now. A job. People who were counting on her. If you’d told her a month ago she’d have a live-in boyfriend who slept in her bed, that she’d be witnessing weddings, she would have laughed until she turned blue. Now it was her reality and she liked it. Loved it, even.

  She loved Connor.

  Fuck, there it was again. His face. I won’t let him near you, Erin. You have to know I’d die first.

  Dammit, think about something else. Something less painful. No, more painful. The only thing that would stop Connor’s pleas from ringing in her head would be to replace them with a harsher memory. Kind of like hobbling yourself to detract pain from a broken arm. Might as well make it something useful. Memories could be a powerful motivator if you picked the right one.

  As she pilfered a Chicago Cubs hat from a street vendor and tucked her hair up inside it, she thought back to her twenty-first birthday. She’d been one week into serving her first sentence in Dade. A visitor had been the last thing she’d been expecting. An inmate had the right to refuse a visitor, but she’d been suffocating. The promise of sitting in an open room without having to watch her back constantly was too tempting an offer to pass up. So she’d sat down with the bastard and watched him smirk at her ungroomed appearance. Her limp hair and eyebrows in need of plucking. Sure, she’d been wearing a genuine fuck you expression, but it only had so much effect when she was the one behind bars.

  “I have to say I’m disappointed, Erin. I had such high hopes for you.”

  She’d tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah? I have high hopes for this reunion being over sooner than later.”

  He’d clucked his tongue. “That’s no way to talk to your father. Especially when you need money added to your commissary account.”

  “Stepfather,” she’d corrected him. “Keep your money. I’ll get by.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Fingers drumming on the table danced through her memory. She couldn’t remember whose. “Is there a point to this visit?”

  “You didn’t think I’d show up without a present, did you?”

  Since he had no bags with him, nor did his lime-green polo shirt allow him to conceal anything, she’d only stared back warily.

  He’d leaned forward and lowered his voice. “So many times you asked me why. Screamed it, really, from your room.”

  Bile had risen in her throat. Her room. How he’d always referred to the closet.

  “Well, your gift is me finally answering your question.” His voice had been full of glee. She could still hear it. “Ever wonder how your mother died, Erin? Yes, I can see that you have. Every girl does.” The glee had fled, fading into a sneer. “She thought I didn’t know about her extracurricular activities. She didn’t care what it might do to my career.” A short pause, full of anticipation. “It was a mixture of painkillers and wine. Her lover called me in the middle of the night, after the accident. The last place I saw her was in his bed.”

  A choked noise had fallen from Erin’s lips, too late to snatch back. She hadn’t wanted to know. Had wanted to go on assuming her mother had died doing something worthwhile or that her young life had been unfairly cut short. Tragic she could deal with, but not senseless. Worse, this information could have been spoken years earlier. He’d saved it up. Waited for the right time to make weapons out of it. Her twenty-first birthday.

  “You’re just like her,” he’d continue
d, giving her white prison gear a disgusted once-over. “I did society a favor by keeping you away from it. Too bad I couldn’t do it forever. I guess it’s somebody else’s job now.” His smile had caused Erin’s lungs to seize. “Or maybe not.”

  She’d watched dumbfounded as he pushed back from the metal table in a hurry. He’d jogged toward one of the guards, gesturing wildly. All she’d heard through a yellow haze were the words “threatened” and “weapon.” She’d been rushed on both sides and thrown over the tabletop, the guards shouting at her to drop the weapon. They hadn’t listened when she tried to explain she had nothing, their hands burning through her clothes to scorch her skin. Her protests had died with her ability to move. She’d frozen as the touches grew more intimate, searching and finding nothing on her person. Convinced the law-abiding psychiatrist had been telling the truth and she’d just found a way to get rid of the threat, they’d hauled her off to solitary with the stepfather’s words still ringing in her head.

  You’re just like her. Weapon. Threatened. Weapon. Threatened.

  That week in the dark had been her first and worst experience. The hands reaching through the slot at unexpected times, accompanied by the howls of misery around her, had fucked with her head. She’d felt changes taking place, felt darkness and irrational fear taking root, but she couldn’t stop it from happening. From becoming a part of her. Sometimes the hands would grab on to her through the sliver of light, clammy and calloused. Yank her up against the steel door, tell her she’d better eat. Warn her she better stop screaming or they’d add time to her stay in the shoe.

  There. Erin caught sight of her stepfather across the street in the park adjacent to the courthouse, as if he was waiting for her. He sat on a bench beneath a tree, one ankle propped on the opposite knee. Reading the newspaper. So casual, as if he hadn’t just sent her newly constructed world into an epic tailspin. From her position behind a newsstand, she saw Bowen and Sera exit the courthouse. They were holding hands, but looking up and down the sidewalk, probably for her and Connor. God, where was Connor? She needed her stepfather to move before Connor came back or he would do something drastic. As if her stepfather had the very same worry after seeing them together, he took one last look at the courthouse and stood, heading toward the Madison/Wabash transit stop.