Edgar is waiting for us when we get to the rendezvous point. Esme climbs out of the car and leans against it, fidgeting with her long shirt. He stares at her, a strange look on his face.
What the hell is he doing? It’s not like him to stare at anyone, and he’s risking making her nervous. I nudge him in the ribs to get his attention and when I do, there’s so much sadness in his eyes that it makes me take a step back.
And then I see it. Esme reminded me of Imogen, purely because of her wide-eyed innocence, but actually, she looks a little like my sister, Olivia. Edgar’s soulmate.
Fuck, the resemblance grows more startling the more I look at her.
I grab some fresh clothes and a pair of sneakers, probably a few sizes too big for her tiny feet, from his car and hand them to her. She dresses behind the SUV and there’s a tentative smile on her face when she walks back around.
I introduce her to Edgar and he regains his composure, although he’s still looking at her like he’s seen a ghost. She doesn’t seem to mind though, appearing at ease with him. She also doesn’t seem at all fazed by the fact that he’s deaf and even knows a little sign language. And that makes me feel like maybe this was fate, or at least a sign from the universe that we’re doing something right.
“Edgar is going to take you to that place I told you about, okay?”
She nods. “Thank you. I don’t know why you came for me, but I’m so grateful that you did.”
“You’re welcome.”
Unexpectedly, she throws her arms around my neck and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek. “You’re a hero, you know that?”
“Not even close, sweetheart. Now get out of here.” I turn to Edgar. “I’d prefer you both to be in Chicago before that piece of shit even realizes she’s gone.”
“Consider it done.”
I watch them drive away, feeling better about delivering Esme to people who’ll take care of her, rather than the way I left Leah. I have no idea what the fuck’s gotten into me. It used to be we left them in a safe house with enough cash to start over and then I rarely gave them a second thought afterward. Now, I seeherin all their faces, and it’s making me fucking soft.
Imogen is all I can think about. My entire body burns with hunger for her. I need to get home and have her in my arms. In my bed. Sometimes, I feel like I can hardly fucking breathe without her. She’s everything. The other half of my heart and soul. And it terrifies me how much I need her when there’s still so much about me she doesn’t know, and still so much left for me to do. It’s unfair of me to drag her any deeper into my life, but I don’t know how to keep her at arm’s length anymore. She’s burrowed herself into my heart and I never want her to leave.
Chapter 43
Imogen
It’s Sunday, which means Lincoln will be home today. I’ve had butterflies in my stomach all day thinking about his return. Pierre scolded me for singing very loudly, and badly, while we were tending to the garden today, and then for being fidgety and excitable at dinner, although there was no bark to his tone at all. I can tell he misses Lincoln while he’s away too, and he’s always a little extra when he’s expecting him home. We did finally finish our Marvel universe marathon though and I am still holding firm in my opinion that Black Widow is the most kick-ass Avenger ever—especiallyafterEndgame.
Pierre retired to his room shortly after dinner. I suspect he’s well aware of the change in my and Lincoln’s relationship and it’s probably his way of giving us a little privacy, which I’m grateful for. I came to the library to read for a little while, or at least I’m trying to, but even my comfort read of Mary, Colin and Dickon can’t hold my attention this evening.
The main doors open, vibrating through the walls of the house. My heart rate kicks up and the kaleidoscope of butterflies in my belly go from gentle flutterings to a frenzied flight. I jump up, placing my book on the reading table before running out into the hallway. He’s heading toward me, looking dark anddangerous, yet delicious enough to eat. He drops his bag to the floor with a satisfying thunk and our eyes lock.
Wordlessly, he crosses the hallway in a few giant strides, his onyx eyes never leaving mine. Then he picks me up, wraps my legs around his waist and presses me flat to the wall, grinding his hard length against my aching pussy while he nuzzles my neck. “Missed you so much, baby.”
I throw my head back and he cradles it in time to stop me from hitting the wall. But then he takes full advantage of the better access to my neck, trailing his teeth over the delicate skin there.
With his free hand, he pulls my panties aside before sinking a finger inside me with a deep guttural growl that rumbles all the way from his chest. “Why are you always so goddamn wet for me, angel?”
Pleasure builds in my core and I whine, curling my fingers in the thick hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ve been wearing my plug all day, sir.”
“You have?” He twists his finger, working it deeper.
“Y-yes. I worked up to the biggest one.”
“Imogen.” My name leaves his lips on a pained groan. “You’re going to be the ruin of me, baby.”
Before I can ask him what he means, he crashes his mouth against mine and kisses me so hard I struggle for breath. He goes on kissing and finger-fucking me while he carries me upstairs to my bedroom and then lies me on the bed like a princess, before sliding his finger out of me. Quickly he removes all my clothes and then he climbs off the bed, leaving me panting from the loss of his touch.
He stands over me, eyes blazing with hellfire as they rake greedily over my skin. “Spread your legs for me, angel.”
Obediently, I do as he asks, aware of the wet heat dripping from my center. He watches me while he undresses, his gaze never leaving my body.
“Jesus fuck, that jeweled plug looks beautiful in your ass.”
