Allison Brennan: The Kill

She looked down and saw his hardened length reach for her, as if it had a mind of its own. On instinct-because she’d never been on top before-she tilted her pelvis up and with her hand, guided him into her. She watched him enter her, gasping from the erotic sight as well as the feeling of him moving within her.

He moaned, reaching up and grasping her hair.

She eased down slowly. She was small, tight, and he-wasn’t. He filled her. But she was ready for him, ready to make love, and finally pushed all the way down, gasping as he jerked inside her, sending electric shocks through her body.

He grasped her hands and squeezed. She was the novice here, but he was letting her take the lead. She found a rhythm that seemed to please him as much as her. He moaned, his neck muscles taut.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered. “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

“You want me to stop?” she teased.

“No.”

“Good, I wasn’t going to.”

Never in her life had she felt more feminine, more like a real, whole woman than she did now, entwined with Zack. She moved up and down, faster. Hot, sweating, she wanted release.

Zack couldn’t take his eyes off Olivia as she enjoyed her newfound sexuality. Her head tilted forward as she concentrated on the sensations they created together. Her little gasps when she rubbed her clit into him on the downstroke.

He wanted to urge her on, faster, but he loved watching her experience something so new and powerful for her. Every muscle in his body tightened as he fought to maintain control. He wanted to give her the power, to show her how much he loved and trusted her.

She began moving faster, up and down, her head falling backward, revealing her neck. Zack had to force himself not to stare at the bandage. He’d almost lost her. But here she was, alive and free and all his. He’d give her the world if he could. He would keep her safe forever. Never allow her to be hurt again.

With Olivia, Zack had the right woman, the woman who completed him, who freely gave her passion and her love.

She moaned, her body slick with sweat and desire, his body vibrating with passion. He placed his hands on her hips and pushed her fully down on him, his cock reaching her cervix, her body hot and tight around him.

“Oh Liv,” he moaned.

Her gasps took on a higher tone and her body shook from head to toe, vibrating with an orgasm that rocked him into his own release. He held her tight as their shared spiral reached a fevered pitch, then her body melted onto his, her skin hot to the touch, her breathing heavy and satisfied.

“Zack.” Her voice was a mere whisper as she kissed his chest with hot, feather kisses. “That was… well. I can’t begin to describe it.”

“You don’t have to.” He cleared his throat. “We’ll have a lot of time to practice as you find the words.”

“There are no words in the dictionary that come close to describing how I feel right now.”

He rolled her off him and only then realized they hadn’t used a condom. He wasn’t usually that careless, but the thought disturbed him only briefly.

He planned to spend the rest of his life making Olivia happy. He had no intention of letting her go. So whatever happened, they were in it together.

Kissing her all over her face, he said, “Come home with me. Take some time off.”

She tensed next to him and he propped his head on his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to Virginia tomorrow.”

“But-Liv, we worked it out, didn’t we? You know I want you with me.”

Olivia wanted nothing more than to stay with Zack. She didn’t even want to get out of bed again. But she owed it to Greg for helping her, and Rick for standing up for her, to face the disciplinary board and answer their questions.

She had broken the rules, and while Rick was doing everything he could to protect her job, she still had to stand up for what she’d done.

“I have to go back. I broke the rules; I have to face the music. I owe it to Greg, who also has to face the disciplinary board.”

“I’ll write a letter about how valuable you were to the investigation.”

She smiled. “Quinn told me that Chief Pierson was giving me a commendation, and Bureau Chief Clark has written a letter for me. But I still need to be there; you understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said, obviously not happy about it.

“I’ll be back when I can.”

“I may end up in Virginia faster than that.” He held her tight. “I’m not going to lose you, Liv. You know that, right?”

“I know,” she whispered. “You’d really come out to Virginia?”

“I promised you a vacation. I’ve never been to the East Coast except for a training conference years ago.”

“I can show you the sights. Autumn is beautiful out there.”

“And then we can really talk, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

He kissed her once, twice, three times. “We’ll work everything out, Liv.” He kissed her again. “I promise.”

“In Seattle this morning a man police suspect of brutally murdering thirty-two children was shot and killed by the father of one of his alleged victims. Fifty-four-year-old Christopher Adam Driscoll was pronounced dead at the scene, and Paul Benedict, father of murdered nine-year-old Jennifer Benedict, was arrested.

“Police Chief Lance Pierson said… “

Brian sat on the park bench that Sunday afternoon, listening to the news on a handheld radio, awestruck.

That bastard Driscoll was dead.

Brian couldn’t feel an ounce of remorse for the asshole who’d framed him for that girl’s murder. He deserved to die, though Brian would have liked to see how Driscoll would have fared in prison.

At least that was one loose end tied up. He’d seriously considered offing Driscoll as repayment for stealing thirty-four years of his life.

He looked up at the house. Her house .

She hadn’t come home yet, but that was okay. The two days he’d had since arriving in Virginia gave him time to plan. Not only how to kill the bitch who’d helped imprison him, but to figure out where he would go once she was dead.

Canada was relatively close, but he’d be better able to lose himself in Mexico. Cheaper to live there, too. And he had street smarts. It’d be easier to make it in Mexico. Not to mention it snowed in Canada. He hated the cold.

The whole thing was making him nervous. Not so much killing Olivia St. Martin, but being responsible for his own life. In prison, he didn’t have to think about earning money to eat, paying rent, or working.

He’d realized much too late that he should have waited to kill the cop and prosecutor until after he got his restitution money. He’d been mentally berating himself for the past two days.

A million dollars, thrown away, just like that. Gone. There was no way he could go back to California now; he’d made too many mistakes. For one, he’d used the same gun on both men. What was he thinking?

He hadn’t been thinking. The story of his fucking life, right? The reason Driscoll got away with framing him. Brian should have thought about who else could have killed that girl. If the cops had asked the questions the Seattle cop had asked, Brian would have figured out about Driscoll years ago.

One last debt to pay and he would truly be free. But while freedom was alluring, he’d begun to miss the structure and security he had in prison.

A fancy car pulled into St. Martin’s driveway. Brian shut off the radio and pretended to read the book he held while he watched a tall, skinny guy walk up to the front door with two bags of groceries in his arms.

This was it. His chance to get inside the house.