It could be easy.
I stretched out my arms and legs, looking away from the motel we’d pulled in at, watching the mountainous view before me, groaning at the aching sensation rocketing through my body as I shook out the hours sat still inside the car.
We had been driving for three days straight already, aimless, just keeping our heads down and not staying still for long. But nights spent in the backseat were becoming harder; we needed a proper shower, a place to stretch out. So Theo finally caved and found us this motel, with a real mattress, plumbing and off the beaten track enough that hopefully no one would come looking for us here.
When I woke up alone in that bed in Connor’s apartment, about ten seconds had passed before Theo raced into the bedroom and told me we had to leave right then. And since then, things had been nonstop. His panic about our father, about Connor’s intentions, spurred me into enough action to get dressed, adrenaline fueling me out of the city and into a taxi. Then I conked out again, finding it just damned impossible to hold on to any energy. It slipped through my fingers like sand. The next time I stirred, we were in a strange car and I had a blanket over my shoulders, the landscape unfamiliar, cold and wide.
Sleeping in the car became our normal, curled up together, giving each other quick orgasms with our hands when the pressure built, muffled kisses and frantic fingers until we both exploded and collapsed asleep. Only pausing for hours at a time so Theo could rest from driving. We’d made it a good distance. And so far, no one had followed us. And this time, it wasn’t just Rafe we needed to escape from. It was our family, the police, I think. I’d killed a man, in full view of dozens of witnesses. When I asked Theo about it, he psshed and told me it was dealt with, but by who? The man we’d stolen and run from? Or my husband, who was out for blood. For sure not our father, who at this point just wanted us dead.
I still had the sense things were being kept from me, but the more I questioned things, the more I figured maybe Theo didn’t know as much as I thought. He was in the dark too, only he didn’t realize it until now.
Theo chain-smoked, sucking down cigarettes outside the car, leaning on the hood and looking like a sexy villain when the red glow at the end of the stick reflected across his features. I always watched him, contemplated how we’d landed here. Running, together. The togetherness was the most shocking part, but thinking back to my wedding night, it was inevitable. Beyond that, the connection with him I’d denied because it was so wrong. If there was ever anyone to run with, it was the man with whom I shared DNA. The man who never gave up on me.
He was beautiful. When he furrowed his brow, staring out into the night, he was beautiful. On top of me, bringing me pleasure, or sinking into his own? Beautiful. He’d saved me, given me the strength to start saving myself.
And stepping out of the car, looking at the first motel he’d trusted along our route, I was excited to make sure he knew how much I loved him.
“My muscles are so stiff,” I said through a stretch, my voice straining. Theo chuckled and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead, stubbing out his cigarette before slipping it behind his ear until he found a bin. He hated littering, would carry the stub of a cigarette forever before throwing it on the ground.
“Mine too,” he told me. “Hopefully this fucking place has a decent shower. Need some heat on my limbs.” He cracked his neck and stepped away, taking my hand to tug me towards the room he’d booked from a payphone a few hours ago.
My healing was going slow but steady. Almost all the smaller injuries were gone or scabbed over, fading bruises, minimal scabbing and tenderness. Theo still tended to the larger gashes despite my protests that I could do it myself now. The whip marks were especially sore, but it wasn’t so urgent now. He’d kiss along them, make me shiver as he worshipped my skin, pain mixed with delicious joy.
“Come on,” Theo said, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. “I got one on the end.”
“Wait,” I said, digging my heels into the gravel so he had to turn and look at me. The weather was warmer here, nicer on my skin than the hellscape that was New York City and all its stuffiness.
“What?” he asked, his eyes darting behind me. But if someone was on our trail all the way out here, it didn’t matter where we were. If they were coming, they were coming. And surely no one cared that much. I couldn’t reconcile that fact, that anyone would seriously try that hard to get me back, just because of my blood, my name. They didn’t know what we had planned, our vague plots to kill everyone, hours spent watching the American countryside drift by while we plotted and dreamed of all the depraved and disgusting things we might do to those men.
And would it be Rafe, our dad, or the authorities that came for us? We’d left New York in a mess. A dead body, a broken promise. A pissed-off uncle coming back to help us, only to find blood-stained sheets and a ransacked kitchen.
I smiled at Theo, wanting to relish in the excitement for a minute. The joy of having this man, yes, my brother, but still this most wonderful of men, protecting me. “I just want to look at you for a moment.” He looked so gorgeous in the bright light. In the dark, he made me shiver with anticipation, with lust and need. In the light, it was a brighter sensation, a freer one. I wanted him just as much, but it didn’t feel sinister. Sordid. It was fresh and tingly.
His brow furrowed, and he smirked, tipping his head. “And what do you see?” he asked, stepping closer to me, teasing, voice low.
I tilted my head, enjoying the sun rays playing in his dark hair, showing glimmers of brown only visible in strong light. The bags under his eyes and stubble along his jaw only made him look more rugged. I loved him. It was so simple. I always had, in the easiest familial way, and the shift to more was organic, natural, inevitable.
“The man I’m going to destroy the world with.”
His answering grin was wicked, and he grabbed my face and planted a demanding kiss to my lips, immediately licking in, his tongue seeking mine. I groaned, my body aching for his always.
It was an amazing thing, wanting sex, not being afraid of it. Craving his body with every breath I drew and knowing he craved mine. But wanted me to feel good in that craving. He took to give. Even when it hurt, like it still so often did, it was all replacement, wiping over the scum Rafe left behind and replacing it with something shiny, clean.
With our mouths still connected, our hands roaming, we made out as he led me to our room, opening the door and stumbling inside without checking it out first. He realized after about a second and pushed me to the doorway, ripping his mouth away and turning, gun withdrawn from his pocket to check the place was safe like someone could have pre-empted this.
There weren’t many places any bad guys could be hiding, so it took him less than ten seconds to be back with me, his hand wrapping around my wrist to yank me into the room with him, his eyes glittering with lust.
We didn’t turn the lights on when shutting the door plunged us into darkness. We didn’t talk as he clicked the lock over, nor when he ran his hands under my ass, heaving me up so my legs wrapped around his waist. We just kissed, explored each other’s mouths, let our touches drift over every inch of the other’s body. Laughing, moaning, sighing against each other. He paused when I winced, then barreled on when I insisted.
He made me whole in a way I was only now learning was possible.
And when he set me back down at the edge of the bed and moved to remove his shirt, an idea struck me.
A dirty and depraved idea, with flashes of my wedding night, of Rafael’s harsh, cold demands.
“Wait,” I muttered against his lips. “Let me.”
“Let you…?” he asked, curious, his voice thick with lust.
