Her Forbidden Risk, page 9
Mitch slipped his hand into hers, pulling her attention to him. “Want to walk for a bit?”
Her gaze slid to the neighboring building. A portion of brick crumbled off the side of the five-story abandoned high-rise. Rusted wrought-iron stairs wove skyward, the first level of stairs chopped off, either through the wear of weather or to keep vandals at bay. Graffiti sprinkled the walls, and the windows were covered in rotting plywood. But up high, up on the charming cupola that had defied time, one wide rosette offered what promised to be a spectacular view.
She glanced down at her tank-style dress and the sandals she’d thrown on when she left the hotel that morning. Not exactly climbing clothes, but they’d do. “No,” she answered as she tugged on his hand and led him across the street. “I want to see something.”
As a kid she’d snuck off with her friends and wandered these warehouses a hundred times or more. Back before the city started its revitalization attempts. Experience told her she could always find a way inside. Sometimes it took a little digging, a little pulling on loose corners, but there was always a way.
“What are you doing?” Mitch asked curiously.
Not bothering to answer because he’d certainly object, she rounded the corner of the building, into a narrow alley heavily riddled with shadows. This part of the city saw enough residential traffic that there was little threat of running into anything dangerous. What had been here to loot once had long ago vanished, and for whatever reason, few squatters made the buildings their homes. The quiet emptiness had drawn her as a teen. And now, after a day of topsy-turvy emotions, it drew her again.
As she ducked to slip beneath a cockeyed portion of chain-link fence, Mitch balked. “Emily. What are you doing?”
“Watch and see. I trusted you. Now you trust me.” She pulled on his hand, dragging him a step closer.
He hesitated, glanced over his shoulder, then let out a harassed sigh. But he stepped through, joining her in an overgrown patch of weeds. “That fence is meant to keep people out.”
“You think?” She chuckled as she made her way down a barely visible gravel path.
“Emily, seriously. This is private property. We could go to jail if we get caught.”
“We aren’t going to get caught.” She stopped in front of a window. The plywood hung crookedly, secured by only one remaining nail in the top left corner. Behind, a wide open pane stood waiting. The bottom sill reached less than two feet off the ground. A smile spread across her face. “We’ll be inside before anyone sees us.”
“Inside?” His voice rang with incredulity.
She pushed the board aside with a determined shove and stepped over the sill, into the relative darkness. “Inside.”
Chapter Twelve
Mitch stared as the plywood swung back into place, dividing him from Emily. They were going to get caught. They’d be arrested. And Jesus Christ he’d have a hell of a time explaining to Derek how convincing Emily into the Henderson job required bail. But he didn’t dare let her wander inside the vacant building, where God knew what could be waiting, alone.
And he couldn’t deny that a small buzz of excitement tripped up his spine over the possibility of seeing what few others seldom could. The building had to be over two hundred years old and abandoned for easily half its age. The moldings would be intact, the floors—assuming they would hold—hand-laid. History flashed across his mind, and for an instant he could hear the whir of steam machinery, the loud voices of workers, a train whistle blowing as it pulled into the stockyards a few blocks away.
He took a deep breath, shouldered the board out of place, and ducked through the broken window. Beneath his boots, glass crunched. “Emily?”
“Over here.”
He waited for his eyes to adjust then searched the murky room. She stood in the far corner, staring up at an old pipe. He carefully made his way around a pile of debris and joined her.
She pointed up to the ceiling to an ornate molding. “This is where I fell in love with architecture. Someone, a long time ago, hand-carved every bit of that molding.”
He sensed something then. Something unsettling and special—she’d revealed a piece of her he doubted even her brother understood. Trusted him with that seemingly insignificant secret. But to her…it wouldn’t be insignificant at all.
Drawn to her in a way he couldn’t quite describe, he settled a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been in here before?”
She shook her head and moved down the wall, studying the flourishes on the strip of board. “Not this one. But others. It’s like I can see them working. See them bent over the lathe, feel the pride—” She broke off and laughed. “I’m sorry. That sounds ridiculous.”
“No.” He followed her down the wall, equally captivated by the tiny bit of design. “It doesn’t.” Because he could relate to it as well. Each time he finished a blueprint, every board he nailed into place—he took pride in every seam, every joint.
“We don’t think about it now. Everything is handled by a machine. But once, the smallest spaces meant something. It took months to finish a room, years for something this size.” She ran a wistful hand down the smooth wall. “That board wasn’t finished in a few minutes on a press. Someone time forgot put days of effort into it. Days, Mitch. For one single board.”
As she spoke, the ancient space settled around him. The dust filtered into his nose, the mildew of the neglected wood. But the scent wasn’t offensive. It created a sense of something larger than himself and took him back to the very first dog house he’d built in junior high shop class. He’d spent weeks on that project, sanding planks even after the semester ended until it had been just right.
All thought of getting caught and the ramifications faded from his mind. He found himself swept in by the clutter on the floor, the open cabinets left behind with weathered invoices peeking out. He didn’t know how much time passed as they explored. When nightfall erased the last of their visibility, he used the light from his cell phone, marveling alongside her over the smallest of things. Before he realized it, they were on the top floor, standing in front of the wide circular window and gazing out at a starlit sky. In the distance, moonlight glinted off the river, along with the distant shine of barges carrying cargo.
Below, the River Market carried on, people hustling and bustling from one destination to another, oblivious they were being observed from above.
“Look.” Laughing, he pointed at a couple making out behind an isolated statue. “Bet they thought they were alone.”
She grinned as she stepped in front of him and leaned back against his chest. “See? I knew you’d like it up here.”
Yeah…he did…and that bugged the hell out of him. Primarily because every time he came near Emily, his sense went out the window, and he did something reckless. “This is exactly what got us in trouble in the first place,” he murmured.
Emily stiffened and slowly eased from his arms. In the moonlight, the tight lines on her face stood out clearly. “You had to bring it up again, didn’t you?”
He huffed a sigh and forked his fingers through his hair. Fighting wouldn’t get him anywhere, and it certainly wouldn’t accomplish the one thing he had to cement tonight—the Henderson job. For a multitude of reasons, he couldn’t let her run away from that proposal. Least of all what lingered between them. He sought to make peace the only way he knew how. With the truth. “This isn’t me, Emily. I can’t just go through life swaying from one branch to another. I need a plan. I need to know what happens next. What the end goal is.”
“The end goal? There is no end goal. I’m leaving in a few days. Why can’t you just relax and enjoy what time we have together?”
“How am I supposed to enjoy our time together when we have to keep it secret? Your brother would come unglued if he knew.”
“If he knew what, exactly? That we’re attracted to each other?” Her voice rose angrily. “For God’s sake, we’re adults. I’m an adult. He has no say in what we do, or don’t do.”
“You know that’s not true,” he said quietly. “He’s your family. He cares about you, whether you believe it or not, and I care about him like my own brother. We can’t always just do what we want.”
She threw her hands up in exasperation. “When are you going to get it through your head, my family doesn’t give a damn about me? They never have. It’s always about them. What they want. What they think is appropriate. Tell me, Mitch, when does what I want matter to someone?”
Her passionate words thumped him in the gut as realization struck home like lightning. All the acting out as a teen, all the anger—she’d only ever wanted acceptance. In return, all the times her family tried to rein her in, she’d seen it as condemnation. And now, damn it, he was doing the same damned thing. The Henderson project was about what he wanted. A way to manipulate her into sticking around so he could discover what the future held for him. He swallowed hard.
“You know, up beside the stars, I always felt free. You want to know my favorite place to escape to? The water tower.”
“The one you polka-dotted?”
“Yeah. I made it my spot.” She moved closer to the glass and splayed her palm on the dirty pane. “The stars don’t judge, don’t care what clothes you wear, or if you want to work on cars instead of study piano. My family confined me; the whole damned town confined me. And nothing has changed.”
Aw hell. The defeat in her hunched shoulders twisted something foreign inside him. He moved closer, wanting to touch her. Afraid he’d said too much and that she’d jerk away.
Emily rested her forehead on the windowpane. A soft, humorless laugh escaped her lips. “My family wanted you around more than they wanted me. They still do. My brother chose you as a partner.” She sighed heavily. “Andre makes better family. He accepts me, and I’m tired of trying to live up to expectations.”
Like claws ripping through his gut, her words ripped him to pieces. Andre. He didn’t want to be petty but their closeness bugged the shit out of him. Did she really think her father and brother didn’t care? Was that what had driven her away ultimately, not some zany desire to spread her wings? He’d had no idea. If he had…
He didn’t know what he might have done differently. He’d been young, chasing after a dream he wanted so badly he could taste it. He’d like to think he might have been there for Emily, but he couldn’t guarantee he would have.
Now though…now was a different story. He smoothed a hand down her long silken hair.
She turned her head to look into his eyes. The spark had vanished from those mesmerizing gray depths. All that reflected back was pain and sorrow. Things he’d never realized she kept buried. Things she’d masked by breaking the rules and running like the wind.
“Emily,” he whispered, his voice thick.
He didn’t know what else to say. Guilty as charged, just like the rest of her family. Hell, he’d all but left her to think he blamed her for yesterday. All the while he’d lumped her in with his mother. Judged her as unfairly as her mother, her brother, and her father.
He fitted two fingers under her chin and tipped her head up, following instinct when words couldn’t voice the topsy-turvy emotion roiling through him. He sought her mouth hesitantly. Her lips fluttered beneath his softly. He took that as permission and slid his hand along the side of her jaw, holding her in place as he drew her in deeper.
The kiss exploded between them. Emily came alive in his arms, capturing his face between her warm hands and taking what she wanted. He gave all he could, met the questing thrust of her tongue, hungry for everything she offered…and more. So much more. Desire flared through his system, pounded at his brain. He’d never wanted anyone the way he craved her.
She hooked one ankle around his calf and pressed her body flat to his. Her center aligned with his thickening cock, the pleasant friction eliciting a low, hoarse groan from his throat. He dragged a hand down her spine, over the curve of her bottom, and pressed her closer. Emily released his cheeks and scraped her nails into his shoulder.
The need to feel her satiny skin sliding against his made him light-headed. Mitch stumbled for purchase, but instead, backed into the hard brick wall. She tumbled along with him, crashing into him with a muffled grunt. Her hands dipped to his shirt, and she yanked it free. A sound of contentment escaped her as her palms glided over his abdomen.
God, yes…her touch was heaven. He fitted his hands on her hips and tipped her pelvis into his. Her nails scored into his skin at the friction, but the scrape only fueled his hunger. He grabbed her dress, curled it into his palms until her bare skin met his knuckles. When he smoothed a palm around her exposed bottom, she shivered.
That slight tremor cracked through the suffocating heat and frantic need. Jesus, he was about to take her against the wall again. In a dirty old building no less. What the hell had happened to his brain? She deserved better than this.
He let go of her skirt and brought his hands back to her waist. Using his thumbs, he pressed against her hipbones, creating some much necessary space between their bodies. Slowly, he backed off the kiss. Their labored breathing echoed through the silent building.
“Not…like this,” he rasped through a cottony throat. With a deep, fortifying breath, he set her away from him.
She leaned in for one more sweet, lingering kiss then twined her fingers with his. “Shall I lead us out then?”
“Yeah.” He chuckled, pulling himself together enough to push off the wall. “In case you were wondering.” With one hand, he traced his fingertips across her cheek. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m not afraid of wanting you, Emily.”
“You sure?” She flashed a teasing grin.
“Definitely.” He just had to figure out the rest of the hurdles. Namely, he now understood what drew her to France and that he’d never convince her to stay. Yet, if he let her walk away, he put his own future in someone else’s hands. The possibility sank fear into the marrow of his bones.
Chapter Thirteen
Emily stepped into the cool night air and held the rotting board aside for Mitch. He joined her on the weed-covered gravel, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the city lights. Her body still thrummed with desire, and she was half tempted to lead him into the darker shadows of the fenced-in yard to pick up where they’d left off upstairs. Being around him was like nothing she could define. One minute she wanted to kick him in the shins. The next, she couldn’t keep her hands off his incredible body.
He reached for her hand, taking over the lead, and escorted her through the hole in the fence, back onto the street. His expression may have been pensive, but the tightness of his grip said he hadn’t become lost to whatever thoughts occupied his mind. He was in the here and now, just like she, and oh, how she wanted to go back to Waddleston and tangle up his bedroom sheets. The anticipation made her heart skip two dozen beats.
But instead of leading her to the truck, he turned at the corner and started down the main street. She cast a curious glance his way. “Where are we going?”
He flashed a mischievous grin. “I have plans for you.”
“Plans that involve a lack of clothing, I hope.” She grinned.
He met her gaze for an instant, his turquoise eyes flaring dark. “Most definitely. How do you feel about Jacuzzi tubs?”
She arched an eyebrow. “That depends on whether I’m bathing alone.”
Mitch released her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side as they walked. His hot breath teased the delicate shell of her ear as he whispered, “I had no intention of leaving you alone…though I could sit and watch, if you’d prefer. I do tend to be a visual learner.”
A hot flush stole into her cheeks as a wicked image flashed across her mind of the both of them soaking in the jets, her bringing herself to pleasure while he looked on. The erotic visual sent another wave of heat crashing through her veins. But it wasn’t what she wanted most. “I’d rather have your hands on my body. Along with your mouth.”
He sucked in a sharp breath, and she felt his muscles tense. When he exhaled, his breath came out in a hiss.
Enjoying the feminine power she currently wielded over him, she flashed him a teasing smile. “Then again, I didn’t get much chance to explore yours. It all happened…so fast.”
His gaze intensified by several degrees. “It won’t go fast. Not tonight. I promise you.”
A shiver inched down her spine. Between her legs, the ache intensified, and she couldn’t keep the urgency out of her voice as she murmured, “How much further?”
Mitch chuckled and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Right here.” He stopped beneath a green and white awning over a pair of ornate, frosted glass doors. Gold embossing across the panes read, Riverside Plaza Hotel.
Surprise widened her eyes. She’d heard about the luxury hotel; it had made quite a splash in even international magazines when it opened. The company that owned it had taken great pains to bring back 1920s Kansas City and restore the hotel to what it had been during Pendergast’s regime. She looked to the curb, and sure enough, the restored Model T that had propagated their ad campaign sat parked at the curb, a footman dressed in wing-tips and a Fedora hat completing the authentic scene.
She’d known Mitch and Derek were doing well financially—but this? He was certainly better positioned than she’d imagined. And for some reason, knowing Mitch had made such a success for himself warmed her heart. Everything he’d done, he’d done by his own hand.
He pulled the door open and, with a hand at the small of her back, escorted her to the counter, where he gave his name to a woman who dressed the part perfectly—a drop-waisted beaded dress complete with a shingle haircut, a feathered headband, and two long strands of pearls.
While the receptionist handled the check-in, Emily looked around. The main lobby was divided into several smaller alcoves, each separated by an ornate, marble archway. In the dimly lit recesses, she could make out several differing design themes: a ladies parlor, a rich and imposing masculine parlor, a billiards hall, and in the far corner, the bar had been styled into a speakeasy with aged wooden planks giving the appearance of a tucked-away secret hideout.
