“No.” She shook her head. “You’ve been more than enough.”
“Can I at least leave you the number of the SART folks? In case you want to report things?”
“I can find it on the Internet if I need it.”
Butch nodded. Then he walked over to the reinforced door. Taking one last look back at her, he said, “You take care, Mel.”
“You, too, Brian O’Neal. You’re a good man.”
“I try to be.”
On that note, he turned the center crank and the security bar retracted on both sides. Then he pulled open the heavy weight and stepped out. As he pivoted around to shut things, he looked through to the tub. Mel was staring at him.
She lifted her hand in goodbye.
“Just believe in yourself,” he told her. “And you can do anything and be anything you want.”
Butch shut things up behind himself. And as he walked away, he released a held breath.
But he didn’t get far. Stopping, he frowned and looked over his shoulder—even as he had no idea what had gotten his attention or what he was waiting for.
Still, it was a while before he could get his feet to resume the task of taking his body out of the building.
Weird.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
As Jo braced herself against the wall of the abandoned dorm, she was breathing so hard that she felt like swords were going in and out of her throat. Not that she cared. Not that she really even noticed. Her awareness was taken up by a short list: Her sweatpants around her ankles. Her bend at the waist. And the fact that her core was completely exposed.
Wait. There was one more thing.
The sounds were soft in nature, but louder than a jet airplane in her head: Buttons being freed from a set of leather pants.
You wouldn’t think you could hear such a thing.
When a massive hand planted itself next to her own on the wall, she jumped, and the difference in size between the backs of their palms, the length of their fingers, the thickness of their wrists, made her tremble. Not in fear, though.
And then Syn probed her sex with his free hand, his fingertips stoking, slipping over her flesh… rubbing. She gasped and arched her back, pushing into the touch. Moving against it. Begging for what was coming.
Syn’s voice was right next to her ear. “I’m gonna fuck you now.”
She nodded, her hair swinging free, her eyes opening, closing, her legs loose even as her pelvis was strong and ready.
His fingers left her. Then something soft and blunt replaced them.
The moan that bubbled up her throat was nothing that had ever come out of her mouth before. And then she barked Syn’s name—as the hard, hot length of him went in deep, filling her, stretching her. Just as she went limp and would have fallen, his other arm whipped around her stomach and kept her up—worked her against him, too. As he thrust forward, he pulled her back, then he pushed her away and slammed her back into him, all the while using the building itself to hold them up.
Syn worked her like she weighed nothing, and she gave herself up to the sex, the pounding, the way her teeth clapped together and her breasts slapped under her clothes. Unlike him, she lost hold on the wall. Arms flopping, hair tangling, breath sawing, she was at his mercy—except he was giving her what she wanted, what she needed, instead of taking anything from her.
The first orgasm lightning’d through her, the pleasure cracking loose and splintering throughout her body. And another release was fast on its heels. Meanwhile, Syn didn’t lose his rhythm as the pulses made her core tighten on his erection. The power of him was almost overwhelming, and yet she only wanted more—and as if he read her mind, he continued until she lost all thought, sensation taking her over, replacing everything.
Except then, without warning, he stopped, pulled out, and spun her around. Looking at him with feverish eyes, she had no idea what he was doing as he got on his knees in front of her.
With a harsh hand, he grabbed one of her calves. “Lift your foot.”
“What?”
Instead of repeating the command, he pulled her leg up and the next thing she knew, her boot was off and one half of her sweats was free of her leg.
“Give me,” he growled.
Jo’s head was too scrambled to do the math, but he solved the confusion by positioning her where he wanted her. Putting her sock foot