Allie starts moving as well. Skin smacks against skin. The bed creaks.
I keep my eyes on her, so wrapped up in her dance. I take off her bra so I can see her breasts bounce before me. I can’t just content myself with looking, so I take a nipple between my lips.
Allie gasps. She moans as she continues moving on top of me. Then she stops, panting.
Since she’s tired, I take over. I push her off me and down on the bed. Then I hold her legs up, bending her nearly in half, and enter her. After just a few forceful thrusts, Allie is writhing in pleasure. She throws her head back against the bed and lets out a cry as her nails dig into my ass, my thigh.
I start grunting as I try to keep thrusting into her tight passage. Faster. Harder. Then I too let go. My chest rumbles as I collapse on top of Allie. I bury myself deep inside her and finally empty my heat into her. She milks me of every drop.
Only afterward, when Allie has grown still and I’m gasping for air, do I realize I didn’t wear a condom this time. But I don’t scold myself. It feels amazing to be inside her like this, to feel truly connected with her. I’ve never felt this connected to any woman before.
I’m about to pull out, but as I lift my head, my gaze rests on Allie’s face. Her eyelashes flutter as she drifts off to sleep. Some strands of hair cling to her forehead, glued by beads of sweat.
As I brush them away, Allie releases a moan of contentment and her lips curve into a smile. My breath catches. My heart stops and my chest swells with warmth.
At that moment, a realization sinks in, one that brings me to plant a lingering kiss on Allie’s forehead.
I care about her, too.
Fuck.
Chapter Fifteen
Allie
Shit.
I grimace as I sit up and feel a crushing weight at the back of my head. A wave of nausea washes over me as well.
I run to the bathroom and open the toilet lid. I remain hunched over the bowl for a few seconds but nothing comes out. The nausea passes. The headache remains, though. I sit on the rug and rest my head against the wall. The coolness of the tiles seems to seep into my scalp and dull some of the pain. I let out a sigh of relief.
I want to sit longer, but I don’t have any clothes on and I’m starting to feel cold in other places, so I try to stand. As I do, my gaze falls on something red beneath the toilet.
I pick it up and realize it’s made of yarn. A knitted pepper? Wait. I’ve seen one of these before. I had one. What did Taylor call it? Something Italian. Cornetto? Costello? Capriccio?
I put on a robe, take an aspirin, and walk out of the bathroom holding the trinket.
“Is this yours?” I ask Cain. “What is it again? Is…?”
I stop as I realize that he’s sitting in front of my laptop. The flash drive Taylor gave me last night is plugged into it.
He found Taylor’s files, which means…
“It’s a cornicello,” Cain answers as he leans back in the chair. “It’s a traditional Italian amulet. My mother made it. You know, Marilyn Swinton, the woman in these files.”
I walk over to him to hand him the amulet. Then I take his hand between both of mine and squeeze it.
“I want to know about your mother from you, not from any file.”
I hoist myself up on the table. I grip the edge and swing my legs as I wait for Cain to talk. He did promise, after all.
He draws a breath. “My mother was a kindergarten teacher who loved flowers and baking. And she liked color. She wore colorful clothes, picked colorful furniture, curtains, sheets and dinnerware.”
I smile. “Wow. Her cafe was a reflection of her, huh? Pops of color. A garden. The smell of freshly baked pastry.”
Cain’s eyebrows furrow. “You’ve seen her cafe?”
“I’ve been there,” I tell him.
His eyes grow wide.
I shrug. “I was worried about you after you disappeared so I went looking for you. I thought you might have gone to see your mother so I went to that cafe thinking I’d talk to her. But they told me she was dead.”
“You shouldn’t have gone there,” Cain says.
“Yeah. I got that. The people there were not very nice.”
“Which people? What did they do to you?”
I see the concern in his eyes. I don’t want to get Eileen in trouble, even though she was mean to me, or to worry Cain about that guy who was trying to hurt me, so I lie.
“Nothing. I just didn’t feel welcome. Don’t worry. I’m not going back there.”
“Good.”
“Why do you keep going there, though?” I ask him. “I mean, why do you keep flying to Milwaukee?”