The Kiss Plot by Nicole French

Ten

We caught the most expensive cab in the world across the park (it took several soaked hundred dollar bills out of Eric’s wallet to convince any driver to take us in our muddy condition) and to our apartment on West Seventy-Sixth Street. Eric hadn’t touched me during the entire ten-minute ride, though I caught him staring at my lips every time I looked at him. A muscle ticked at the bottom of his jaw, like the man was literally a time bomb held at bay only by the cab’s muted Russian music and the fact that the irate driver kept checking on us through the rearview mirror like we were wild animals about to rip up his stained vinyl.

Well…he wasn’t completely wrong.

I followed Eric up the steps of our brownstone and then the stairwell, staring at his perfectly formed ass with a mix of loathing and desire. Like two scoops of ice cream, that. It was irritating, really, the way his pants were stuck to it. The way the muscles moved back and forth, back and forth, right in front of my face. Taunting me.

And so, by the time the door locked behind us, I was a giant knot of desire and anger, ready to tear the man apart in more ways than one as I shoved on a spare pair of glasses sitting by the key bowl. Everything that had happened in the past few months—hell, the past five years—was roaring through my head at supersonic speed.

Caitlyn Calvert.

John Carson.

Red panties.

“Rock the Casbah.”

The bridal march.

Every single mind-bending orgasm the man had ever given me.

Eric peeled off his jacket, giving me a prime view of the way his shirt was pasted to the etched lines of his back and chest. The soaked white was closer to gray in this light and matched the stormy hue of his eyes.

When he caught sight of me standing there, he scanned my body, then immediately closed his eyes like he was in pain. “Christ, Jane,” he muttered. “For the love of God, go change your clothes.”

I looked down. My dress was black, so I wasn’t giving the wet-t-shirt show that Eric was. But the thin, gauzy fabric had been stretched in the mud and rain, and right now the neckline was pulled indecently low so that my cleavage—what little I had—was fully on display. My nipples puckered from the cold. Well, mostly from the cold.

“Crap,” I said, yanking up the collar, but unable to get it to stay. It was just too misshapen. Finally I let it drop. “You know what, fuck it. It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”

“Jane, come on—”

“Grow up, Eric,” I snapped, though I folded my arms over my chest. “Stop acting like you haven’t seen about a million women exactly like this or worse.”

Eric sucked in a long, tortured breath. “A million women,” he said through his teeth, “aren’t you.”

We stared at each other for what seemed like hours. His torso rose and fell with each exceedingly difficult breath. Eric’s own chest, abs, biceps were on display too—every sinewy muscle on the man was taunting me through the translucent white fabric. Not to mention the way his pants weren’t leaving much to the imagination as his desire became obvious, pressing against his zipper. And he wanted me to cover up? Please. The man looked like a Playgirl shoot.

“You have to go,” Eric said like my X-rated thoughts weren’t playing through my mind.

I snapped my head up. “Are you kidding me? I have to go? You said we were coming back here to figure things out.” Call me crazy, but I was sort of looking forward to continuing what we started. We had some catharsis to get to, followed by a hot shower.

“I did figure them out. Jane, get changed, and then you need to leave New York. Brandon and Skylar are still here, right? You can go back to Boston with them. Brandon and I can hire extra security for you, and—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I interrupted. “And you are more of an idiot than ever if you thought I was. I literally just chased you down through the mud, Petri dish, donating two very expensive shoes and my favorite glasses to Central Park while I was at it. I look like a wet rat that just got flushed through the entire New York City sewer system. So if you think I’m going to just walk away without getting some goddamn answers, you must be more out of your mind than I thought.”

His eyes narrowed at the nickname I knew he loathed. “Jane—”

“No!” I shouted. “We tackle each other in the park, and then you kiss me like you can’t possibly do anything else. And now we’re here, and you’re right back to acting like a scared rabbit. I demand the truth, Eric. Where in the fuck have you been?”

“I can’t tell you that!” he burst out.

“Can’t tell me what? That you were kidnapped by my long-lost ‘father’? That he’s the head of some uber secret society that can’t decide whether it wants to use Greek or Roman code names? That they ‘tap’ the unsuspecting shoulders of New England’s elite college grads and proceed to scare the shit out of them until they are nice and compliant?”

Eric jerked his head up with alarm. “What in the fuck. You are not supposed to know any of that.”

I shrugged and tossed up my hands. “Well, too late now. The medieval cat is out of the bag, my love, so you might as well just spill the rest.”

“Who told you?” he demanded, starting to pace, the water in his shoes squelching comically as he did. “Calvin was never officially inducted—all he knows is that Jude and I are part of something he wasn’t in college. He’s been trying to get in ever since.”

“I don’t know who Jude is,” I said. “But Brandon wasn’t fully inducted either, so he says. Sounds like he came to his senses before it got to that, but he knew a bit to share. And I didn’t have to chase him like a lunatic for the information either.”

“Idiot,” Eric muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said he’s an idiot,” Eric enunciated clearly. “If he thinks he’s going to get away with talking about Janus, he’s really, really fucking stupid.”

“How would anyone find out?” I asked. “Are you high? Your paranoia is off the charts.”

“He’ll find out,” Eric said darkly. “Carson always finds out.”

I sat back onto a barstool while Eric continued to pace the living room, completely oblivious to the muddy tracks his shoes were leaving all over the expensive alpaca rug. Joke’s on him, I thought as I watched. It was his dumb black Amex that paid for it anyway.

He stopped in front of the big fireplace and turned to me with sudden determination.

“Look,” he said. “I’m asking you to leave for your own good. I don’t want you anywhere near Janus or Carson. You have no idea what they are capable of.” His face turned visibly whiter on the last few words, and he grabbed the mantle, needing to steady himself.

“Why?” I demanded. “What is it, exactly, that you think they’re going to do? What happened to you?”

“He…” Eric shuddered. “No. I’m not going there. Not now.”

I scowled. “You know, the more I hear about it, ‘Janus’ sounds less like some illustrious secret and more like MS-13 dressed up in coats and tails. We shouldn’t be running, Eric—we should be calling the police.”

Eric laughed, a sad, slow cackle that lodged a pang of dread in my belly. “If you think the police would do anything other than exactly what Carson wants, you’re more of a fool than he thinks.”

“Please,” I said. “John Carson doesn’t know me from Adam. Where has he been for the last thirty years, huh?”

“Your father,” Eric spat, “has absolutely forbidden me to be with you. He’s made it very clear.”

I screwed my face up in confusion. “What? Who the hell is he to say—”

“John Carson is the most powerful man in a brotherhood of the most powerful men in this country, Jane. He’s someone every world leader listens to. He’s someone who is absolutely fucking not to be trifled with.” He glanced toward the window in the general direction of the park. “Which, unfortunately, is what we’re doing by not showing up at the park, as it happens. Jane, you need to go.”

I snorted. “You make him sound like Zeus on the mountaintop. Tell me, does he have a lightning bolt too?”

Eric didn’t even crack a smile. “In a manner of speaking. Only his looks like a nuclear warhead.”

“What?!”

“Chariot Industries just overtook Lockheed last year in arms development. They supply weapons to most major buyers on the planet.”

I rubbed at my forehead, now recalling that Brandon had said something similar. But still. This was ridiculous. Just because the man made weapons didn’t mean he was going to use them on us. “So…what, he’s going to shoot you with a missile if we stay together? Why does he care so much anyway?”

Eric shook his head. “I don’t know, Jane. I wish I did.”

He sank to the hearth and stared hopelessly at his hands. I slipped off my stool, then padded around the furniture and joined him. We sat there for some time, shivering as the cold set in. No one bothered to light a fire. I wasn’t sure there was a point.

“You put your ring back on,” I remarked when the platinum on his fourth digit caught in the twilight sun peeking through the storm clouds. “In the park. You put it on.”

Eric flexed his hand. There were other remnants of bruising on his knuckles. For the millionth time, I wanted to know what had happened to him while he was gone.

“I—it was always in my pocket.” He started to pull the ring off, but when it didn’t move easily, he left it on, stroking it gently with his thumb. “I never wanted to take it off, Jane. But when I saw you’d removed yours, it seemed like the right thing again. But now the will…” His head fell again, and that same forlorn posture overcame him once more. “God, this is such a clusterfuck.”

I couldn’t help myself. I still didn’t completely understand what was going on, but I had to do something. I tapped him on the shoulder. His eyes met mine, wide and scared.

“Hey,” I said. “You’re not alone in this. That’s what these things mean, right?” I pulled out the chain under my dress and dangled my rings in front of him. “Say the word. And I’ll put them back on.”

Eric watched the rings for a long time. “I wish I could,” he said. “I wish—fucking hell, Jane, I wish we could just leave all of this shit behind us and run away.”

“Why can’t we?” I wondered. It was an honest question. That didn’t sound too terrible right about now.

But Eric just expelled a long, low breath. “Because we can’t.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only answer you’ll get.”

“Why?” I pushed. “Because I’m too simple to understand it?”

“No, because you’re too fucking special!” Eric fell forward, caging his head between his hands. “Don’t you get it? I left because I love you, you stupid, stubborn girl. How many times do I have to tell you that I left to keep you safe!”

For a few minutes, I watched him wrestle with his torment.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” I said finally.

His voice was a croak. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

I raised a brow. “That’s not your choice to make.”

Eric stared at me.

I stared at him.

I stared at the way his muscles taunted me through his wet shirt.

I stared at the drop of rain dangling off an errant lock of blond hair.

“Jane.” Eric’s deep voice seemed very far away. “You need to stop looking at me like that.”

I blinked. “Why?”

“Because,” Eric said. “This isn’t supposed to happen anymore.” Like a magnet, however, he just leaned closer.

I stared at the plump lines of his mouth. “I think it already did.”

“You know what I mean.”

I raised a brow. “Do I?”

His mouth inched forward. His entire body shook with want.

“Eric,” I whispered.

He closed the gap.

His kiss was now soft, tentative, closed-mouthed. It feathered over the bottom, then the top of each of my lips. So unlike his usual style, where he took what he wanted without apology. Eric was nonchalant to the point of immovable so much of the time, but when he kissed me before, I always knew he meant it.

Something in him was broken. And it broke my heart too.

I slipped a hand around his neck and pulled him closer, urging him on.

“I can’t,” he whispered, though he opened to me more. “But goddammit, Jane, I can’t stop either.”

“Can’t stop what?” I murmured, enjoying the way his tongue dove around mine.

His lips drifted down my throat, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “Wanting you. Needing you. Fuck.”

I cupped his face between my hands so he had to look at me again. “Then don’t.”

He groaned, a guttural, animal sound that vibrated through his lips and into my soul. Slowly, we stood up together, practically traveling as one, pawing at each other’s wet clothes. I didn’t care that we still had so many secrets lying between us. I only ached to be close. Ten days. Two weeks. Whatever it was, it felt like a lifetime.

Eric kissed me again. And this time, he fucking meant it.

His hands were everywhere. They traveled around my waist, my arms, around my neck, and over my sternum. Then he pulled away, and his hands dropped to the neckline of the dress that lay loosely over my décolletage. He took a firm hold of the fabric and ripped the dress in half.

“Hey!” I yelped, though I was being nearly as rough with his jacket and shirt.

Eric smirked as he yanked the cloth from my shoulders, tearing the zipper along its seam the rest of the way down my back. “I’ll buy you a new one.” The dress fell to the floor with a splat.

I eyed the heap of wet wool and leather somewhat ruefully, even as I pulled at his pants. “But I made it.”

“You’ll make another.” My chin was yanked around, and he kissed me again, hard and fierce. “Tell me the truth, pretty girl. What matters now?”

We toppled into the bedroom, cold limbs warming as we sought each other through the last bits of clothes. My underwear was tossed to the wall; his boxers landed on a lamp.

“Us,” I murmured as his mouth found my nipple and sucked. Hard. “Oh, fuck, Eric! Just us.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in between kiss after kiss across my chest. “So fucking sorry. For Caitlyn—”

“I don’t care about that anymore,” I said, though I knew it wasn’t completely true. The whole matter just seemed very, very far away now.

He sucked briefly on my other nipple. “Goddammit, Jane, you have no idea…no idea how hard that was—”

“Shut up,” I said as I grabbed his hair and forced him to look up. “I don’t care about that stupid wench anymore. Stop apologizing and just fuck me, will you?”

His eyes flashed with that familiar glint—the one that loved and hated when I challenged him this way. His hands slipped up the backs of my legs, then grabbed me behind my thighs. Less than a second later, I was tossed onto the mattress, landing on my back with a thump.

“You want me to fuck you?” Eric growled as he crawled over me. “Like what? An animal?” His teeth closed over my nipple once more, this time with some bite.

“Ah!” I arched into the pain. “If the sh-shoe fits.”

He buried his face between my breasts. “You have no fucking clue, gorgeous.”

“Ah!” I shrieked. “Eric!”

But my cries were swallowed again by his kisses, now just as torrid and bruising as the ones in the park. We were both starving for each other. Desperately, I reached between us, eager to guide him home.

Eric broke the kiss and pushed up on his forearms. He peered down at me, though the movement just allowed me to take his thick erection more firmly in my grip. His eyes closed briefly, and when they opened, glinted like steel. Slowly, he reached down and removed my hand. His long length lay on my thigh as he moved one of my hands over my head, then the other, and trapped them both under his forearms.

“Impatient, are we?” His cock slipped between my thighs, teasing the slippery warmth awaiting him.

I rocked my hips up, hoping to draw him closer. “You seemed like you needed some help.”

“I seemed…” He trailed off, somewhat amazed. “I think you forgot who’s really in charge here, pretty girl.”

The name seared my heart like a brand. And I only wanted more.

Eric sucked on my lower lip harder. I moaned into his mouth.

“Say it,” he growled as just the tip of him found my entrance.

I twisted and turned, trying to flee and get closer to his broad, strong body. “Say—say what?”

“You know what.” He pushed in further, but only just.

“Oh, God,” I moaned, squirming even more. I wanted him deeper, but at the same time, I didn’t think I could take it. “Oh, God, Eric…”

“Say it,” he commanded as he charged forward. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

He pushed inside completely, and his sudden presence there, along with the friction of his hips right over my clit, pushed me directly over the edge of a cliff I hadn’t even known I’d been standing on. A sudden orgasm swept through me; one I hadn’t even been expecting.

“OhGodEricIloveyouuuuuu!” I cried as I shook from head to toe, limb to limb.

And it was only then that he started to move. Solid, consistent. Filling me again and again, reuniting our bodies and our minds in that way only he knew how to do. Just as my initial euphoria faded, Eric’s consistent, even rhythm inspired the bloom of a new sensation, one that went so much farther than the surface.

He pulled one of my legs over his shoulder and sat up on his knees so he could look down at me, drifting his other hand around my face, over my breasts, stomach, hips. My hands threaded together over my head—even without his hand there, I still felt pinned to the pillows.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Jane,” he whispered as he continued to move, deep enough now to make me arch with every blow. He dropped a kiss on my ankle, and his other hand found my clit, drifting a thumb lightly over the sensitive spot. “A goddamn work of art.”

I had heard them before. Those words. In that voice. But it didn’t make them less erotic or any less meaningful. I was still so frustrated with the man, but I couldn’t deny that I loved him. Needed him. When he did this to me, nothing else in the world seemed to matter.

I spun out in that beautiful dream of pleasure and desire. His name filtered from my lips again and again until another wave of pleasure rose in front of me like a shooting star.

“Eric,” I whispered, this time too overcome to shout.

His gray eyes widened. “Jane.” His voice was hoarse as he lurched over me. “I’m…goddammit, I’m going to come.”

“Do it,” I urged. “Just let go! I’ll be right with you.”

Eric’s gaze was a hammer, and I was the nail. The force of his expression alone bound me to the mattress as he pounded away. But just as he tensed every one of his cinderblock muscles, clearly ready to relieve all the pressure in each of those merciless blows, there was a loud knock at the front door.

“Triton!”

Eric froze. I opened my eyes.

Who. The fuck. Was that?

“Triton!” The deep male voice was familiar. Resonant, even through the thick prewar walls.

“What are you doing?” I hissed. I pushed at Eric’s chest. “Whoever that is, fuck him. Don’t stop!”

I was so close—so close—and just needed a few more thrusts, a bit more friction to reach my own zenith for the second time.

But Eric just stared at me in utter horror as the voice sounded a third time:

“Triton! Open the door!”

Like the voice was a shot through his chest, Eric exploded off me, stumbling backward naked and still erect, looking as disoriented as I felt. I pushed up onto my elbows, suddenly angrier now more than ever.

“Hey!” I snapped. “You cannot be serious right now, buddy. We talked about this. Orgasm-withholding is a hard limit!”

But Eric didn’t respond. His eyes were flying around the room, searching for clothes. He grabbed the first things he could find from the closet—a pair of ratty joggers and a clean white dress shirt, shoving them on without underwear as he hopped from one leg to another.

“Eric!” I yelled as I sat up completely, holding the bedsheet to my chest. Outside, a few car horns blared in concert with me.

His eyes widened, like he hadn’t completely realized I was still there, naked on our bed, still throbbing from the orgasm that had never happened.

“Jane,” he croaked, glancing between me and the window, where a fire escape hung outside the double-paned glass. “Get dressed. And run.”

And then, before I could respond, he left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.