Convicted - Romig Aleatha (читать книги полностью без сокращений .TXT) 📗
His eyes closed and tone turned sultry. “Mrs. Rawlings, you’re playing with fire. I’m fighting a lot of thoughts and emotions right now. If you aren’t careful, then I can’t promise I’ll be able to control my actions.”
Again, she arched upward this time, her teeth playfully nipped the lobe of his ear. She smiled as she received her desired effect—the familiar growl resonated from the back of his throat. His words were gone.
While he pulled the satin gown away from her breasts, she ran her fingers through his hair and whispered, “I’ve played with fire before—I like it.” Feeling his desire against her leg, she murmured, “And sometimes control is overrated.”
The sandpaper like stubble scratched the soft skin of her enlarged breasts. With each turn of his cheek, her senses electrified. Currents of yearning coursed through her body. The combination of pain and pleasure melted into ecstasy. Claire hugged Tony’s face to her breasts while his hands caressed and encouraged. Nichol wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the liquid feast Claire had to offer.
The next few minutes faded into a cloud of passion. Her nightgown lay upon the floor in a puddle of satin, and his gym shorts disappeared. The tropical humidity added to the sultry moisture molding their bodies together. His broad chest weighed heavily upon her breasts as he pinned her petite body to the soft sheets. Skin to skin they were lost in one another. She closed her eyes as she mindlessly responded to his caresses. Endlessly, his fingers probed as he teased and taunted her desires. Claire couldn’t stand the anticipation any longer. Her entire being cried out as she begged for relief.
No other man had filled her so completely. No other man had taken her to the pits of hell and the uppermost parts of heaven. Her fingers clutched tightly to his shoulders as they momentarily forgot their troubles. Their world was right here and right now. Her body convulsed as she cried out to the only man who knew her completely. Before she could think coherent thoughts, before her body settled from its intense state, Tony too found relief. It was a brief reprieve from the demons surrounding them; nonetheless—it was a break. With the breeze from the ceiling fan stirring the early morning air, they fell asleep in each other’s arms—pretending their safety in paradise would last forever.
Phil secured their new identifications and accompanied them through the multiple TSA check points. Not once was his documentation questioned, as they safely re-entered the United States. Claire’s wig was short, and Tony’s contacts made his eyes a shade of green. Their travel clothes mimicked those of everyone else, and they traveled economy class. Although Nichol didn’t wear a disguise, the four blended well into the anonymous masses.
Before they left their haven, Claire hugged Francis and Madeline and promised their safe return. The couple didn’t know the ins and outs of the Rawlings’ legal issues. They did know they’d all grown fond of one another, and Nichol was the light of their world. Tony explained that he had created a trust fund that would assure the island retreat’s financial solvency. He assured Francis and Madeline everything would remain flush until they returned.
They both promised the couple, that their return would be sooner rather than later. Claire’s heart broke as Madeline’s large tears dampened her shoulder during their farewell. She knew if it wasn’t her sister’s life at stake—she’d never have left their island.
It took two full days flying commercial, but finally, they arrived in Cedar Rapids. It was late at night—after midnight, and thankfully, the airport was quiet, calm, and uneventful. After spending six months in the tropics, the cool March Iowa air chilled Claire to her bone. She shivered in the back seat of the van Phil had arranged to have waiting. With each shiver, Claire covered Nichol with another blanket.
While Phil drove, Tony reached over the baby seat and held Claire’s hand. “You’re trembling. Are you all right?”
“I think I’m just cold.”
Rubbing her gloved hand, he moved it to his lips. “No one noticed us, Mrs. Rawlings. You can relax.”
She exhaled and watched her breath create a frozen mist. “I can’t believe we’re going to show up on Courtney and Brent’s doorstep. I’m excited to see them, but what will they say? We lied to them.”
Tony and Phil’s eyes meet in the rear-view mirror. Claire asked, “What? If there’s something, tell me—I’m sick and tired of secrets.”
Tony squeezed her hand and tried to explain, “Knowledge is leverage for the law. Right now, I’m wanted and you’ve been harboring me. If the Simmons’ were caught communicating with either of us, they could be charged with aiding and abetting a fugitive.”
“Then let’s stay in a hotel. I don’t want to put them at risk.”
This time, Phil answered, “Claire, they want you there.”
“But, how? How would they know?”
Tony replied, “They’ve known since before you and I met up in paradise. Brent’s known you’re alive since the FBI questioned me. The authorities wouldn’t allow him to share. Of course, he told Courtney.”
“All these months! Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been berating myself over lying to my family and friends. Do Emily and John know the truth?”
Tony’s tone became businesslike. “If you’d have known—you would have wanted to communicate, and no, it made more sense for the Vandersols to remain in the dark.”
Claire stared.
Tony continued, “We’d hoped their pursuit of me and Rawlings Industries would keep them safe—that as long as they were helping to hurt me—we hoped that Catherine would leave them alone.”
Tears coated Claire’s cheeks as she turned toward the dark, dead landscape. Thankfully, there wasn’t any snow, but each tree along the way was leafless and the fields were empty and dark. Claire wasn’t sure why she was crying. Perhaps it was exhaustion or stress. Maybe it was anticipation at seeing Brent and Courtney and John and Emily again.
Her thoughts evaporated as her husband’s hand reached for her chin. With his thumb and forefinger, Tony turned her gaze toward him. Through the darkness of the van she saw his clenched jaw. “Can you please be mad at me later? We’ve got a lot going on.”
Not trying to move away from his determined tone, Claire closed her tired eyelids causing more tears to rush down her cheeks, and explained, “I’m not mad. You’re right—I would’ve thought about calling daily. After Nichol was born, I probably would’ve done it—even if I knew I shouldn’t.” Claire used her gloves to wipe her face. “I’m tired and scared.”
Tony reassuringly took her gloved hand in his. Phil interjected, “The Simmons know about Nichol, and they can’t wait to meet her. Emily and John aren’t due to arrive until tomorrow afternoon.”
Tony smiled and said, “We’ll get some sleep and you’ll feel better.” His devilish grin reappeared as he whispered, “Or not sleep?”
Claire shook her head. “I’m afraid our princess won’t understand the time change. We may spend the night up—in shifts—with her.”
Still holding his wife’s hand, Tony shrugged, leaned against the vinyl seat, and sighed. “That’s not quite the up I was imagining.”
Claire’s eyes darted toward the rear-view mirror. Courteously, Phil appeared lost in his own thoughts, unable to hear the whispers which only moments earlier he’d answered. Claire shook her head and peered under the blankets at a sleeping Nichol. With a weary smile, she placed one hand over their daughter, and enjoyed the sensation of her little chest moving up and down.
For a moment, Claire envied Nichol’s ignorance. As long as she was fed, clean, and loved—their daughter didn’t know the evils that lurked in the shadows. With her other hand, Claire clung tightly to Tony. Closing her eyes, she said a prayer to keep her family safe.
