“Yes.” Her body stiffened as she started chanting his name. “God, Levi. Yes.”
She made him feel like a hero. Her body reacted to his touch and she didn’t hide any reaction from him. She let him see her desire and it was fucking glorious.
With one last pass of his tongue, her body let go. Her fingers shifted from the covers to his shoulders. She pressed against him as her muscles squeezed and her body pulsed against his tongue. He could almost feel the waves of pleasure move through her and had to fight to keep from losing it right there.
Calling on his control, he rolled to the side. Kept the connection with her body by draping his hand across her thigh. Thought he might have a fighting chance not to spill it until her fingers slipped into his hair, gently caressing.
A man only had so much control in a situation like this. “Uh, Emery.”
“Will you tell me something?”
If he wasn’t careful, he would show her something. That wasn’t exactly how a guy wanted to come his first time with a woman. There, in his suit. Not impressive.
“Sure.” His answer sounded strangled even to his ears.
“Why were you so angry?” The mattress dipped as she turned to her side and slid down to face him. “Back then, I mean.”
Okay, that killed his erection. He guessed he should thank her for saving him from an embarrassing teen flashback. But this subject sucked. “Is now the time for this conversation?”
She traced her finger over his lips and down to his jaw. “This strikes me as the perfect time to share.”
He wasn’t sure how to answer that without pissing her off. Pointing out that he’d already shared a secret about his life and then went down on her seemed especially dickish. “It’s not really something I talk about.”
“You don’t give out your name either, but you told me.”
He’d forgotten most of his personal rules when it came to her. “Hard to argue with that logic.”
“Then don’t.”
He debated telling her another story and keeping the facts hidden. He might have done it if she weren’t right there with her leg sliding along his, naked and trailing her hand down his bare chest. “There was a woman.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “There always is.”
“My mother.” When she frowned but stayed quiet, he pushed on over his reluctance and every ounce of common sense that told him to stop. “I was training and plotting and learning to shoot because I was angry about my father.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
He reached out to rest his hand on her hip but stopped. This wasn’t a time for touching or joy or anything good. “I wanted him dead.”
Slowly, she sat up. “I don’t get what you’re saying.”
“I think you do. He was the one I wanted to punish. Worse, actually, but I settled for ruining him.” He leaned on his elbow and stared up at her. “Because he killed my mother.”
“I . . . Oh, Levi.” Emery crossed her legs in front of her and dragged the edge of the comforter across her naked body. “I don’t even know what to say.”
He didn’t either. It wasn’t as if he told this story often. Quint knew. The other members of the group knew, and that included Garrett. But the universe of the people pretty much ended there. He’d walked away from his father, that life and his name almost a decade ago. Got his revenge and left. Killed off the young man he once was and started over with his acquired skills.
On the verge of telling her he couldn’t talk about it the words started to flow. “The market turned and his business was in trouble. Between the margin calls and the panicked clients demanding to withdraw their money, everything fell apart.”
She balled the comforter on her lap. “Okay, but . . . I mean, murder?”
“He had a two million dollar life insurance policy on my mom and a mistress waiting for him to break free. I guess with those pressures his choice sounded like a good idea.”
“Damn.” She reached out and touched the side of his face. One slip of her fingers then the warmth was gone again.
“He wasn’t particularly original about it. They were supposed to meet at a work party that night. She never showed.” Wren sat up then because lying down didn’t feel right. Nothing about this moment did.
They’d flipped from pleasure to serious and he didn’t know how to get the pleasure back . . . but a part of him didn’t want to. There was something about purging the information that felt right. With her past, through all the pain she’d experienced, he knew she’d get it. She’d at least understand it.
“You’re sure?” She rested a hand on his knee.
Rather than fight the comfort, he dove into it. Picked up her hand and held it in both of his. “I know he did it.”
“How?”
He caressed her fingers, stunned by the contrast of the harsh memories and her healing touch. “He says she ran away. Her mom, my grandmother, was Japanese and had returned to Osaka years before to take care of her sick sister. My father insisted my mom was miserable as a wife and left to join her long-lost family in Japan because nothing in the US held her back.”