“Right or wrong, good or bad, smart or stupid, I want you right now more than I’ve ever wanted any woman. I want to kiss you all over and see if your skin is just as sweet as the peaches and cream my mom used to give me.”
She couldn’t stop the hitch in her breath. “I want that, too. More than anything. I’m sorry I freaked out.”
“No need for apologies. We just need to slow things down. Get it to a speed you’re comfortable with.” He reached over and grabbed her wrist, giving her a tug so she was once again sprawled on top of his chest. His lips found hers, and all the passion was still there, but with a slow, lush burn this time.
“I’ve woken up with you like this every morning since I met you. Under you is very quickly becoming my favorite place to be in the world.” His thumb brushed along her jawline, sending a rush of sensation skimming across her flesh.
“I thought men wanted to be on top.” Damien would’ve never dreamed of doing anything but dominating her with his body.
Ren’s smile was wicked, his hands trailing down her throat, over her chest and breasts, before coming to rest on her waist. “Arealman wants to be wherever is going to help his woman get what she wants.”
“I don’t know that I know what I want.”
He pulled her more fully on top of him. “Peaches, we’ve got all night to figure that out.”
And they did.
Chapter Thirteen
After their amazing night of lovemaking, trying to tell Natalie the truth hadn’t gotten any easier. The entire next day—for the couple hours he let her out of the bed—he’d peppered her with more questions about Freihof, trying to get any info he could.
Justifying to himself that once he told her who he really was she’d likely clam up for good.
She’d opened up more about her marriage and the hell it had been. She’d admitted to running from Freihof, although she hadn’t said anything about faking her own death. And finally mentioned that the reason she’d needed to work three jobs was because she was being paid under the table and therefore much less.
Ren had been forced to keep his questions more neutral than he’d wanted.
“You really felt like you couldn’t get a regular job? That your ex had the means to find you no matter where you were?”
She glanced away. “Maybe not himself. But Damien has uncanny skills when it comes to getting people to help him. He just has this way of making people believe that he can meet their needs. So I wouldn’t doubt for a second that he had someone checking the grid for me every once in a while.”
Ren was just beginning to understand the pressure and isolation Natalie had been under for the past six years. He had no doubt she was innocent and that they’d be moving on to the media blitz plan in two more days. The only question now was if she had information locked away inside that could help them.
Before she learned the truth and stopped talking to him altogether.
“What did your ex do for a living?”
She almost seemed to shrink in on herself. “You’re going to think I’m an idiot, and I was. All I knew when I got married was that he was a businessman, and had enough money for us to lead very pampered—and isolated—lives. Enough money to pay people to say and do whatever he wanted.”
“You never asked later?” Ren realized he probably knew more about Freihof’s “business” actions than Natalie ever did. That he’d made his fortune through blackmail, weapon sales and trading of information.
“I learned after he dislocated my shoulder to never ask him anything that might be considered too inquisitive. After he broke my fingers, I learned never to ask any questions at all.”
What?Ren walked over to where she was still painting and took the brush from her hands. “He broke your fingers?”
She shrugged, still not looking at him. “It’s not a particularly exciting story. He wanted me to be perfect. Was obsessed with me beingperfect.” She all but spat the word. “Whenever I did something that wasn’t, there was a punishment. Sometimes my hair wasn’t perfectly styled and that garnered a slap.”
She began shaking, swallowing hard. “One day after he saw my latest finished painting and disapproved, I asked whether perhaps someone else would like it even though he didn’t. He broke every finger on my right hand.” She let out a shuddery breath as Ren pulled her into his chest. “I couldn’t hold a paintbrush for months. As a matter of fact, I haven’t held one since, haven’t painted, until now.”
He’d lifted her fingers to his lips so he could kiss them. Then took her back to bed. Just to hold her and let her rest, knowing that when she woke up it would be time to tell her the truth. To explain what was really going on and how much they neededher help. Doubly now. One, because she was their best shot, and because of what Homeland Security would do to her when they came barging in here in less than three days.
Hell if Ren was going to allow Natalie to be taken into custody as a hostile informant, suspected of aiding a terrorist. Especially since Ren had been the one to so adamantly argue that to be true three days ago. His judgments about her were what had landed her on Homeland’s watch list in the first place.
Now he knew there was absolutely no way. Even if Freihof hadn’t done all the terrible things he’d done to her, there was still no way she would assist him. Ren was confident she would be willing to help them make sure Freihof was arrested. Certainly that was in her best interests, but also because it was the right thing to do.
Natalie would need protection after they were out of the wilderness, and not just from Freihof. Obviously someone knew she was alive, or suspected it, based on the deaths of the Baxters. Some enemy of Freihof’s, hoping to take her and use her to find him? They’d also put a protective detail on her friend Olivia, just in case someone came after her.
When Natalie woke from her nap, which was plagued by bad dreams, Ren still couldn’t find it in him to tell her right away who he was.
