CHAPTER 5—REMY'S AGGRAVATION
It had been a long and difficult week. Both Remy and Donovan had cabin fever, and were equally exasperated with each other. He had continued to cuff Remy to the daybed nightly. He had learned his lesson, though, and didn't get close enough for her to hit him again. It was a humiliating experience, but Remy had begun to be thankful the goon saw to it that she was locked up at night. She didn't trust herself anymore. If Donovan's back was turned, she knew she would run. She had had enough of the lock down. Not only that, but he was near her entirely too much. She kept thinking that she didn't want him, but she was simply lying to herself. When he wasn't looking at her, her eyes would follow him around the room. When he touched her, her flesh would break out into scores of goose bumps. She had begun to wonder what he was like in bed, if his lips were as demanding as his personality, if he tasted as good as he looked. Her thoughts depressed her immensely. She had begun to believe she was a whore ready to fuck anything with a hard-on. She was certain she disgusted Donovan, and even if she didn't, he would simply use her as a plaything. She wouldn't stoop so low again.
Donovan watched Remy closely. A few days before, she had seen him scribbling a few notes here and there on a legal pad. She asked if he had any extras. Of course, he did, he was always prepared. She took the pad he offered her and curled up on the daybed. Curiously, he watched as she wrote furiously for several hours. She continued to do so the entire week. Although not many people knew it, Donovan was nosy, and not just 'on the job nosy.' He wanted to read what she was writing. He wanted to believe it was due to the case and her circumstances. She could have been writing to someone on the outside, perhaps the party responsible for Senator Wengrod's death. Yet, he didn't quite believe that. He simply had a need to know. He had another need brewing as well, a more primal need. She still aggravated him beyond all sanity, but he had also grown frustrated. Since the first night they were together, his need to touch her, to kiss her, was consuming his entire being. He didn't act on any of his impulses, no matter how tempting, because he felt that she had a deep seeded mistrust of men. How would she feel if he tried to divide and conquer? Hadn't she been taken advantage of enough? Would I be taking advantage, he wondered. He had the greatest urge to just…react. He could almost feel her body in his arms, could almost taste her kiss. I've got to get out of here, he thought. The cabin fever was turning him into some sex-crazed maniac.
The satellite phone rang sharply. He hated the ugly yellow monster more than the big-assed Suburban, but he had little choice. His regular cell phone wouldn't work out in the boonies. He grabbed it and stabbed the 'send' button before the noise split his head wide open. "Donovan."
"Hey there, dude," Lomax's voice cracked over the line. "How goes it?"
Donovan glanced at Remy. She was still sitting on the bed, writing almost obsessively. He moved away from the easy chair and slipped into the hallway. "It goes slowly," he said sarcastically.
"I know it sucks, man. This type of duty really bites the big one, boy-o. I have some good news."
He closed his eyes, hoping to hear that the killer had been found. "Great. I need good news."
The other man laughed heartily. "Is she still giving you a hard time?"
Hard, what a word, he thought crazily. He kept his eyes shut tightly and purposely bumped his head against the wall. "Stop dancing around, Ed. What do you have for me?"
"We're working on giving you relief in a couple of weeks."
Lomax's comments forced him to open his eyes. "Relief? I don't understand. Why drag me into this at all if you intended to replace me?"
"Well, boy-o," Lomax said jovially, "we were sure the person behind this is one of your old FBI enemies, one that wouldn't come after you. That's why I suggested you for this assignment. Turns out I'm probably wrong. I think the killer just had a grudge against the senator, probably some crazy constituent."
"What you're saying doesn't make sense, Edward," he spat.
"I know, Franklin," he mocked. "This isn't something I need to go into on a cell phone call. I'm going to come up in a few days and brief you a bit more thoroughly."
Donovan disconnected the call. An enemy? He had hundreds of them. This case was becoming more difficult and confusing by the minute. He walked back into the living area and noticed that Remy had yet to look up from the legal pad. Bored out of his mind, he went back to the easy chair and sat down. Within minutes, he was asleep.
Remy looked up when she heard a soft snore issuing from Donovan's prone body. Her eyes identified the dreaded handcuffs lying innocently atop an end table. He hadn't used them on her in a week, so he wasn't very careful about where he put them. Score one for the brat, too bad for the goon. It was time for a little payback.
* * *
A cramp in his back roused Donovan from a sound sleep. He tried to raise his arm, but was met with resistance. He stared down at his wrist incredulously and saw that Remy had cuffed him to a heavy wood and glass end table. In fact, it was the same end table of which he had banged his shin. The sneaky little bitch had slid the table over to his dangling hand and made him its prisoner.
"REMY," he roared. No response. Stupid, stupid. What the hell was she thinking?
I wanted to take a walk, and by God I'm taking one, without the fucking goon, she thought. The cabin was isolated enough where not even Grizzly Adams could find them. She didn't understand why Donovan was so paranoid. Of course, she didn't want to think about what he was going to do to her once he got out of the cuffs. It was a mean trick, but he deserved it. It was worth losing whatever trust she had gained. She needed a moment alone, to sort out her thoughts, to get away from her overwhelming lust. With Frank Donovan underfoot 24/7, privacy was not an option.
Seething with anger, Donovan stepped out onto the porch. Remy hadn't gotten very far. He could just make out the red splotches of her sweater. He was momentarily relieved. At least she hadn't taken the Suburban, which meant she didn't want to go far. He was mad enough to scream out at her, but he hesitated. Perhaps calmly following her would work best. The woman had gotten into his head somehow. He didn't like making mistakes; she had screwed him up, and caused him to act recklessly.
Remy was in her own little world and didn't hear Donovan creeping behind her. He was as lithe and as silent as a lion stalking his prey. When he was within arms reach of her, he grabbed her forearm. His sudden move caught her completely off guard, and she screamed out in terror. She turned on her assailant, ready to fight for her life, until her eyes met Donovan's. She had hoped to be back inside before he released himself, but he apparently had had other ideas. He had been angry with her before, but not like this. His dark brown eyes were black. His lips were pressed into a tight grim line, and his nostrils flared crazily as he breathed deeply to fight his rage.
"Do you see how easily it was for me to catch you," he spat, each word dripped venom. "You never even knew I was there. What if it hadn't been me, Remy? What would you have done then? I wouldn't have been able to stop it because I was fucking cuffed to that table."
She tried to break free of his grasp, but he was too strong. "I wanted to be alone. How can I with you breathing down my neck every minute of the day?"
"Do you not get it yet," he roared as he glared down at her. "It's been a week, and you still can't see it, can you? Until the FBI finds the person who's after you, your life is no longer yours. It's mine, Remy, and mine alone. If you see it any other way, you're wrong, and you need to learn once and for all."
"Let…me…go," she demanded through clenched teeth.
Oh God, he moaned inwardly. His anger was more concern driven. When he noticed that she was gone, he felt panicked. It wasn't the panic of losing a witness. It was more like losing a person dear to him. All the tension, aggravation, and anger netted together and snagged him inescapably. He drew her into his arms and finally gave her the kiss she had been craving for days. She accepted it, taking note that his lips were as scrumptious as she had thought. His tongue demanded access to the inside of her mouth, and she willingly obliged. She tasted sweeter than he had imagined, and the sensation of her tongue twirling, sliding, and entwining with his was mind bending. A week's worth of pent up desire exploded almost violently during the kiss, and it was a long time before either dared to come up for air.
Remy was the first. She was dazed a little, her lips swollen a bit from their hungry kiss. She was still in Donovan's arms, her body crushed against him, molded to him. He wanted to make love to her, it was very clear in his eyes, and she wanted him just as much. Yet, both were hesitant to take the next step for different reasons. Reluctantly, she backed away from him, and he allowed it. He wanted to fumble through an apology, but the words wouldn't come out. He wasn't a bit sorry for kissing her, he was only sorry for not doing it sooner. She turned toward the cabin, away from him, and slowly walked back. He mutely followed behind her. He watched as she approached the side of the Suburban, only a couple of steps away from the porch. Something broke loose inside him, and his internal restraint was no more.
His long legs drove him forward, allowing him to catch up to her before she could go inside. He grabbed her again, but did so gently. He pressed her body against the Suburban's front flank and took her lips again. She was helpless to stop him. In fact, she was fairly helpless altogether. It seemed as if her body had forgotten how to move. Her arms flailed limply in the air before settling across the SUV for support. However, the SUV wasn't exactly what she wanted to throw her arms around. Soon enough, her mushy brain told her arms where they needed to be, and she plunged her hands into his hair. It looked sharp enough to cut her and make her bleed, but it was actually soft, thick, and silky.
In some type of uncontrollable frenzy, Donovan's mouth moved from hers and found her neck. His teeth nipped madly at her delicate flesh as his lips slid further down the slope of her throat. She threw her head back and was surprised when she didn't bang it against the hood of the Suburban. If she had, it wouldn't have mattered; she wouldn't have felt it at all. She could only feel lust and a moist, fevered heat between her thighs. She wrapped a leg around him to draw him even closer to her. She felt the evidence of his need, and a strangled moan came from the depths of her throat. She strained against him, her leg pushing him closer and closer.
A bit more urgently than intended, he cupped her left breast through her sweater, squeezing it, as if he expected it to pop out of its own free will. The sweater was thick, double cable knit, but it didn't matter. Her nipple stood to attention, and he could feel the hardened little nub straining desperately against the layers of her clothing. God help him, he wanted to take her right then and there, with his bare ass hanging straight out in nature.
"Inside," she whispered urgently. "We need to go inside."
"No," he groaned as his hands crudely shoved up her skirt, "no time."
His hands were like heat conductors, and they burned her thighs, leaving a trail of fire that sank down to her very core. He was rough and primitive, exactly how she had imagined, exactly how she wanted him. With a whisper quick motion of Donovan's hands, her panties were discarded. It was almost like a lusty magician's trick. Her loins literally ached, and she didn't have any more patience than Donovan. Her hands moved down to his belt, and he groaned impatiently. It was taking too long. Everything was taking too long. Her hands were inside his slacks now, and her touch sent his pulse up a dozen octaves. He was literally throbbing in her hand.
When he finally entered her, a noise escaped him: ssssss.
As he pushed himself all the way inside her, he let out a low, throaty moan. She was warm, silky, and tight. Heavenly, he thought, utterly heavenly. One of his arms came up around her buttocks as she slung her other leg around him. His other hand reached out to grip the Suburban, and he hoped the sweat breaking out all over him didn't loosen his hold on either her or the SUV. Her hands gripped each of his arms tightly. She couldn't help throwing her head back as he moved within her, slowly and deeply at first, but then hard and fast as his release began to build inside him. It wouldn't be long now, he knew. Her back was almost flat against the hood of the Suburban as Donovan drove into her increasingly harder and faster.
"Uh, uh, oh God," she moaned.
She raised her body upward, shuddering uncontrollably, as her climax unrolled and bloomed like the petals of a flower. Her arms went around him, to hold him tightly. The fluttering sensations grew stronger, deeper, and burst forth time and time again. Droplets of sweat beaded on Donovan's forehead, and a slow trickle began to run down his face. Her lips eagerly drank it in.
"Oh, let go," she whispered, her lips close to his ear.
He moaned a little, her soft voice was pushing him over the edge. "Mmmm, no, uh huh," he groaned.
"Yes, Frank, please," she whimpered, scissoring her legs around him, helping him seek the release he so desperately wanted, but denied at the same time.
"No," he whispered, "not yet."
Her teeth nipped his earlobe. "Yes, Frank, now," she commanded.
Remy's tongue teased his ear, running up and down it. It was enough to finally make him give in to his climax. His hips froze and he let out a very low groan as his body shuddered against hers. He didn't immediately let go of her, he couldn't. He breathed heavily through his parted lips. The feel of his breath puffing out against her neck, and the sound he made while doing it made her tingle. He hadn't disappointed her at all.
* * *
From about ten feet north of Remy and Donovan, a fellow stood with a wide-angle lens. He snapped several pictures as he watched the couple having at each other. It was an interesting development. He wondered if the boss would still want the girl dead after he saw the pictures. Perhaps the photos would draw Donovan to the boss, allowing another score to be settled, and thereby killing two birds with one stone. He had seen the girl in the woods earlier, and he had been tempted to take her out right that second. Of course, Donovan just had to rush in and save the day. He watched curiously as the two argued. Before he knew it, they were kissing, and then, they were getting down and dirty. The boss would be surprised to see the pics. Donovan was normally composed and strictly by-the-book. Did he think no one would come looking for the girl? Was he that stupid? Was he that blinded by lust? He wondered if Donovan would allow the members of his UC team to act like he just did. Perhaps he would send a packet to them as well. They would see how much of a hypocrite their boss actually was, and he found that thought deliciously funny.
* * *
Exhausted now, Donovan released his hold on Remy's body. Carefully, slowly, she slid her legs down until she was steady on her feet. Almost awkwardly, they looked at each other. The thought that he had just made love to this annoying woman was hard to reconcile. He wasn't sure why he had let himself go like that. What had he risked? What had he compromised? They were outside, in the clear, and a bullet could have entered her brain as easily as he had entered her.
"I'm sorry," he said softly as he backed away from her. Hastily, he zipped up his pants and secured his belt around his waist.
"Frank, what-"
He couldn't look at her. He had done to her exactly what he vowed not to, and she didn't understand. Despite her past experience with the senator, she really was innocent and completely naïve.
He shook his head and continued to back away from her. "Remy, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."
Wondering what she had done, she hastily readjusted her clothing, suddenly embarrassed. She watched him enter the cabin. It appeared he had forgotten he was sent to protect her. After a moment, she followed his lead. He wasn't in the living room. She could hear him in the hallway, speaking quietly to someone on the phone. She could only make out the words: "get me out of here."
