I chuckle against her skin, then lick her again. She's so responsive. Every kiss, every lick takes her higher. I suck her pussy lips, then her clit, reading her body to find what she likes. She tastes like heaven.
When I push a finger deep into her core, she clenches around the digit. “That’s right, beautiful,” I murmur. Take what I give you.” I pump my finger in and out, then wrap my lips around her bud and suck until she comes all over my mouth. My beard. I've never tasted anything sweeter. I could live between her thighs.
“Dallas,” she whispers.
I lick every drop, bringing her down slow.
She collapses back on the bed, chest heaving. Sated.
I press a kiss to each thigh, then crawl over her and kiss her again. "You okay, honey?"
Gemma nods, curling into my chest. "Stay with me,” she whispers. “Just… stay.”
I pull her against my chest and wrap both arms around her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
DALLAS
There's only one place I know with absolute certainty that I can take Gemma and not worry that danger will find her. Because even if an army of men came for her, they'd never get close.
I'm taking her to the one place I never thought I'd return.
Home.
It's a three-day trip from Mississippi to Montana, but Gemma doesn't even blink when I mention it. She seems eager to put distance between herself and New Orleans.
The news coverage of her father's death initially focused on the chaos at the gala and a search for the congressman's missing daughter. I urged Gemma to make a video, which we sent to Derek at Citadel Securities. In it, she told them she feared for her life and gave a quick account of what happened at the gala.
She only choked up when she talked about her father.
Having Derek deliver it gives us one more layer of protection in case the company has someone inside law enforcement. He could also inform them that Citadel is protecting Gemma's mother.
As soon as I send the video, we pack up and leave for White Falls.
The hours and the road blur together. A mix of small towns, cities, and endless stretches of highway.
Same as the last four years of my life. This is why I decided to leave the company. I'd traveled so much, that even stops at my usual places like Archie's motel, grew further apart.
Conversation between us is light that first day, and when we stop for the night, I make no pretense of staying on my side of the bed. We both need rest, so I wrap her in my arms, and hold her close while we sleep.
Trust continues to grow between us as we drive. Gemma asks about White Falls and what I remember about living there.
I tell her a few stories of my parents trying to keep me and my two older brothers out of trouble. We grew up on a small farm. I spent most of my time trying to get out of chores, which meant my oldest brother, Bronco, spent most ofhistime tracking me down for whatever shenanigan I'd created. Ford got stuck cleaning up after both of us.
She shows me the wedding photo of her mother and her biological father, whom she doesn't really remember other than being loved, and how he carried her on his shoulders.
She doesn't open up about her adopted dad until the third day.
We're driving through the hills of South Dakota when she quietly asks, "Do you think the GLT company had anything to do with his death?"
I remember the name from his dossier. I never spent much time on the details of a mark's business unless it relates to where he'll be when I'm setting up a job. Something in her tone makes me pause. "Why?"
She shrugs and wraps her arms around her waist, staring out the window. "Just wondering."
I know her well enough to know it's more than that. "What is it?"
"A shell company." She frowns, brows pinching tight. "The Gemma Lea Townsend Company."
