The Secrets You Keep Page 7

  I walk up just as she places a finger near the woman’s elbow, causing another yelp. I make a handcuff knot, then carefully slip the woman’s wrists through the loops. Grace watches me in silence, her hands slowly stroking the top of the patient’s head. As I secure the knot, I imagine Grace’s delicate body writhing against restraints while I make her scream my name. I let her watch me. I show her that I can be gentle and still give her what she needs. She’s trying hard not to react, but the sudden quickening of her breath gives her away. Her mind is just as curious as her body. And I want to answer all her questions.

  “I should go,” I say once the woman has calmed down. “You have work to do, and so do I.”

  She doesn’t ask about what kind of work I do, and I’m thankful I have her distracted. Not that I’d tell her the truth, anyway. But I’m glad I don’t have to lie to her.

  She swallows hard then licks her lips. “Right. Of course.” She runs her hands down the front of her white coat. “Thank you… for helping.”

  “My pleasure.”

  A small smile finds her lips, and her eyes fall to the floor.

  Oh baby, you have no idea what I want to do to you… but you’re about to.

  ***

  It’s been almost four weeks since they took David, and the situation is getting worse. It was bad enough when I got lost in my own mind, wondering what was happening to him. But now that I know, now that I’ve seen it for myself, I have to find him. Whatever it takes.

  I’ve been to the U.S. Consulate twice with no results. I should’ve known. In the government’s eyes, we’re invisible. We fight their fights, but when shit goes south, we’re on our own. So as of today, I’m taking negotiations into my own hands. It’s not the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

  As soon as I leave the hospital, I find the DHL office responsible for delivering David’s photo to the Greenleaf.

  I scribble a quick note and leave it inside a plain, gold envelope, identical to the one that was left for me. It takes two hours of waiting near the loading docks until the driver I’m looking for finally shows up. He’s no sooner opened his door when I shove the envelope against his chest.

  “You left a message for me two days ago at the Greenleaf Lodge. In an envelope eerily similar to this one.” His mouth falls, my observation rendering him speechless. “Now you’re going to deliver a response.”

  I wait until he takes the envelope from my hands before I turn and walk away. By this time tomorrow, David will be safe and free. And the man who sent that photo will remember my name for the rest of his life—however long I decide to let that be.

  ***

  If my message was delivered, the nightmare David’s been living the past few weeks will be over soon, and I can focus on why we came here to begin with. Then, I can take some time off, and get to know more about a certain doctor I can’t seem to stop thinking about.

  I can’t sleep. I can’t stomach the news. I don’t read, and I’m not about to lie here and jack off when there’s a perfectly pink pussy calling my name a few doors down.

  My hotel room goes dark when I click the television off and head outside. I need fresh air.

  The cool night breeze blows in off the water, filling the air in the courtyard with the scent of newly blossomed flowers. I walk past the covered dining area where I sat with Grace, and I wonder where she is now. Or what she’s doing. Is she in her room, moaning my name, bringing herself to the brink of pleasure?

  I sit down by the pool to relax and catch a sudden gleam of soft light from the corner of my eye. It’s Grace. The light is coming from her room. She pulls back the set of curtains that kept her hidden from me before. Soft music floats from somewhere on the other side of the courtyard, but I focus only on her. She’s ditched the white coat and scrubs. A simple t-shirt covers the perfect globes of her ass. I see the tight points of her nipples beneath the thin cotton fabric. It’s innocent—and sexy as fuck. I want to capture the vision and store it in my mind. I never want to forget the way she looks right this moment. I pull my phone out of my pocket to take a picture of her. She looks out into the courtyard but never directly at me. She has to know I’m here. I’m sitting in plain view. She has to feel me watching— to know what she’s doing to me. I zoom in and watch the light and shadows dance across her face. Her mouth twitches then she turns her back toward me. Her fingers sink into her long, dark hair, pulling it up off her neck and onto the top of her head. The movement pulls her shirt up over her ass, exposing a pair of delicate pink panties and perfectly round cheeks. I wonder if they redden the way her face does so easily. Jesus, this woman is killing me softly.

  Click.

  I snap a picture of her before the moment is lost. She ties her hair up in a bun then clicks on her television and crawls into her bed. We’re working on borrowed time. She’s leaving soon, and tomorrow may not go the way I hope it does. It’s unlikely, but there’s always a chance I won’t walk away. A man can only test fate so many times before it catches up with him. I can’t let her fall asleep without seeing her again. Without smelling her. Without touching her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Grace

  I wasn’t expecting anyone to be outside this late at night. So when I pull back the curtains and see Callan sitting there by the pool, my body reacts quicker than my mind. He’s watching me. And I want nothing more than for him to like what he sees.

  I’m too self-conscious to give him more than a glimpse before my brain finally decides how to work again, and I shut off the light and climb into bed. The late-night news reports a military presence on the streets of the city, and I wonder if I should be worried. Is this what these people live through every day? Poverty. Fear. I don’t suppose it’s too far removed from the things I see in my own city. Hatred doesn’t have boundaries. It’s not prejudiced. It doesn’t limit itself to the confines of certain zip codes or cultures.

  A soft knock on my door startles me out of my thoughts. I glance into the courtyard at the now empty chaise lounge and hope it’s Callan.

  My heart stops when I see that it is. His presence holds me captive. My thoughts, my senses—every single one of them—belong to him whenever he’s near.

  “Is everything okay? Is Johan—”

  “He’s fine.” His voice revives my heart the moment it reaches my ears. “Have dinner with me.”

  My brain dies again. Surely he doesn’t mean now. It’s almost ten o’clock at night. Of course, he doesn’t mean now.

  “When?” I question.

  “Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  I haven’t even answered yet. Then again, he never really asked. The whole interaction was a subtle command that I couldn’t help but follow.

  “What should I wear?”

  A slight smile plays on his lips at my question.

  “A little more than this,” he replies, giving the bottom of my Hard Rock Cafe tee a tug.

  The backs of his fingers graze the top of my thigh. Heat. Scorching, burning desire fires through my veins.

  I make myself remember to breathe. “Okay.”

  His touch lingers against my skin. His fingertips let go of my shirt and form a trail of heat across the top of my thigh. He traces a line across my skin, and for a moment I wonder if he’s going to reach around and grab my ass. Then, he moves his hand from my thigh to the side of my face. His thumb brushes my cheek.

  Please kiss me.

  I close my eyes and breathe him in.

  He moves his hand and drags a stray lock of hair between his fingertips. “Good night, Grace.”

  I open my eyes and exhale my disappointment. “Good night, Callan.”

  ***

  By six thirty the next evening, I’ve changed clothes three times. I didn’t exactly plan on meeting a gorgeous, mysterious, and inexplicably irresistible man while I was here. And I certainly didn’t plan on going to dinner with one. I finally decide that the little black dress I brought in case of a special meeting wil
l have to be good enough.

  Callan is predictably punctual. He takes me to a place on the waterfront not far from the hotel. Everything about this place is incredibly different from the Cape Town that I’ve experienced so far. It’s breathtaking. Fishing boats dock in a working harbor while people stroll along the sidewalks. There’s a huge Ferris wheel set against the backdrop of a magnificent sea and glorious mountain. The setting alternates between modern architecture and historical restorations. The whole place has a welcoming charm. I’d never been to the Hamptons, but I imagine it would be like this. We walk past shops and restaurants where people laugh and make memories.

  We come near a chocolate shop, and he leads me inside. He says something to the woman behind the counter, and she disappears into the back. A few seconds later, she comes back with a chocolate-covered strawberry. Callan takes the berry and brings it to my lips.

  The hard chocolate coating touches my mouth. It’s cold, but I can already taste its sweetness.

  His eyes lock with mine. “Take it.”

  My lips part, and he slides the fruit inside. I take a bite. So, this is what Adam felt like…

  It melts in my mouth. The richness of the chocolate blends with the sweetness of the strawberry. I’ve had orgasms that weren’t this good. I suppose that says a lot about my sex life—or lack of one.

  I may have moaned because Callan’s eyes grow dark and the muscle on his jawline tenses. Then he brings the strawberry to his own mouth and takes the last bite.

  Is it even possible to think someone is sexy when they chew? Because this man is all kinds of sexy right now. Every part of me wishes we were doing this naked instead of in the middle of a busy store.

  After paying the woman, he places his hand at the small of my back and leads me out the door.

  “That was incredible,” I tell him once we’re back on the sidewalk.

  “That was just a taste.”

  I don’t think he’s talking about the strawberry.

  We walk past a jewelry store, and the glint of a diamond necklace flashes in the setting sun. Callan stops to admire it then pulls me inside. I run my fingers across the glass case displaying the most beautiful chocolate diamonds.

  I didn’t grow up poor. My father had plenty of money. He just always believed things like fancy cars and flashy jewelry were frivolous. We spent our money on the more permanent stuff—like our home and education.

  I feel his presence the moment Callan stands behind me. He drapes a platinum necklace with a solitary diamond around my neck. It’s the one we saw in the window. The feel of his fingertips against my neck sets my skin on fire.

  He leans forward. “This belongs here,” he says against my ear.

  I don’t know if he’s talking about his breath against my skin or the diamond around my neck, but out of the two I know which one I prefer.

  I reach behind and place my hands on top of his. Then I pull the necklace from around my throat.

  “I wouldn’t have anywhere to wear something like this.”

  He hands the necklace back to the salesclerk. “Well, that’s a shame.”

  We walk the shops a little longer while he explains the history of the waterfront.

  “I didn’t know something like this existed here,” I say as we pass a massive white structure with a balcony overlooking the water and large white columns framing the entrance.

  “It’s easy to get lost in the ugliness of it all. Easy to miss the beauty that’s right in front of you.”

  Warmth spreads across my skin when I catch a hint of unguarded desire in his eyes. I want to be closer to him, to touch him. And I want him to touch me too. Why does he do these things to me? What makes him different from the rest? He takes my hand, and the static returns. The electric crackle in the air every time he’s near.

  He nods his head at the entrance. “We’re here.”

  His guides me through the restaurant as we follow the hostess to our table. His fingertips graze the top of my ass before his hand slides to my hip. I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to be back at my room. With him. Only him.

  We take our seat, and the waiter pours a wine sample.

  “See anything you like?” Callan asks as I scan the menu.

  Yes, but it’s not on this menu.

  “I think I’ll just follow your lead on this one.”

  The corner of his mouth twitches then he smirks. “So, you trust me?”

  “Well, if your taste in dinner matches your taste in chocolate…”

  He smiles and licks his lips.

  God, I wish he would kiss me.

  The waiter returns, and Callan orders for us both. He watches me carefully as I sip my wine. I notice he doesn’t take a single drink of his. I’ve never been more aware of what my mouth and tongue were doing than I am in this moment. The chilled white liquid slides past my lips and down my throat, cooling the flame that scorches my skin. My tongue instinctively snakes out to catch a lost drop from my bottom lip. I hope it wasn’t seductive. I want it to be seductive.

  The waiter leaves us alone, and Callan angles his body toward mine. “Do you know why I asked you here?”

  I know why I wanted him to ask me here. I hope it’s because he’s as curious about me as I am about him. I want him to want to spend more time with me. Even if it’s my last night here. I want to leave with the memory of his skin on my skin.

  “Because you were hungry?”

  He smirks. “Something like that.” His strong hand finds my bare knee. He slides across the leather bench seat to get closer to me. Then he leans in, and his nose brushes my ear when he speaks. “Your body is begging to be touched.” His fingers inch to the inside of my thigh, and my legs part without hesitation. “See that? See how you open up for me?”

  Oh my god. I’ve been with men. I’m not entirely inexperienced. But I’ve never been spoken to like this. Never in the privacy of my bedroom. And definitely never in a public restaurant full of people. The drop of the long black tablecloth hides our sin from curious eyes. Even without the recognition of the other diners around us, I know exactly what’s going on under here, and I like it. I like it a lot.

  Would I like it even more if I knew they could see? Something about that thought excites me and embarrasses me at the same time.

  He drags a single fingertip along my slit through the fabric of my panties. “I’ve been waiting to do this since the first time I saw you.”

  I spread my thighs wider, giving him the access that he desires—that we both desire.

  He groans deep in the back of his throat. “I’m going to touch you, and you’re not going to say a word. Not a single sound. Understand?”

  I nod.

  He smiles. “Good.”

  His fingers slip past the elastic trim of my panties to find me soaking wet with need. He pulls my clit between his fingers, pinching the tender flesh. I want to cry out. I want to ask why here, why now? But more than that, I want to do as he asked. Because that’s what he wants. He glides his finger along my slit, slipping the tip inside me then drawing it back out. His eyes lock with mine, challenging me to disobey him. I don’t. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth to keep quiet and drop my eyes to the small, white square plate in front of me. Focus on the plate, Grace. The plate and the pleasure. I can do this.

  He circles the swollen nub, and I fight back a moan. It feels so good. Being touched by a hand that’s not my own. Knowing that a man like Callan finds me desirable. I feel sexy and sensual. I feel feminine and powerful. Powerful because even though he’s in control of my body, I maintain the willpower to give him what he asked for. I want more or this, more of him. My body rocks slowly… gently against his hand. I want to grip the table’s edge and throw my head back, but that’s not what he asked for. His chest moves with the heavy breaths he takes, but other than that, he shows no reaction to what he’s doing to my body under this table.

  He brings his mouth to my neck, just below my ear. “I was wrong. When I thought I wante
d you to be quiet. I don’t. I want to tear you apart then slowly put you back together. I want you to come unhinged.” He inhales a deep breath then moves his lips to my ear. “I want to hear you scream.”

  His words. The steady movement of his fingers inside me. His breath against my skin. I’m coming undone.

  Callan places his other hand on the curve of my jaw and turns my head to face him. He slows for a second while he speaks. “Say it. When you come. I want you to say it.”

  “Say what?” My voice is lost. I can only breathe.

  He slides the pad of his thumb across my lips. “My name.”

  I take in a deep breath, bring my eyes to his, and swallow hard as my body clenches and pulses around his middle finger. Tears sting my eyes as I hold back a cry. Oh my God, I’ve never felt anything like this. The pleasure is intense.

  I grip the front of his shirt in my fist as my head falls against his shoulder. “Callan,” I moan against his neck.

  He watches me finish then brings his finger to his lips. “You taste like heaven.”

  He handled my body like a skilled craftsman, and he never blinked an eye as people walked past our table while he brought me to the brink of oblivion. I suddenly wondered how many times he’s brought a woman to orgasm at the dinner table. I shouldn’t care. I’m not sure why I do. I leave in a couple of days, and I’ll never see him again. This is exactly what I wanted it to be. A release. A memory made. Nothing more. So why do I still care?

  “You’ve done this before.”

  It’s both a statement and a question, and I could kick myself for letting it slip out.

  “Not here. Not like this.”

  His answer is both a relief and a disappointment. He doesn’t ask me if I have. I’m sure the answer is pretty obvious. Thankfully, the waiter shows up with a platter full of sushi, robbing me of a chance to make a bigger idiot of myself. And Callan doesn’t have to explain. Not that I expected him to. Other than what he reveals on the surface, he doesn’t seem like the type of man to talk much about his past. So, I choose a safer, more comfortable subject—one we have in common.