Halo (K19 Security Solutions Book 8) Read online

  I’d been too busy during the day to think about Ben and too tired at night. Now, though, I wondered again about his abrupt departure. Was it because I’d essentially turned him down? He could rest easy when he returned, I supposed, since I had a place of my own now. I let my eyes drift closed, remembering how good his kisses felt, how much I loved having his hands on me.

  When I heard a knock, I sat up, disoriented. I must’ve dozed off. I checked the time, stunned to see two hours had passed.

  When I heard a second knock, I got up and opened the door.

  “Hi,” said Ben, leaning against the doorjamb.

  “Hi,” I answered, stifling a yawn.

  “Bad time?”

  “I took an unintentional nap.”

  When he didn’t say anything, it occurred to me he was waiting for me to ask him in. I stepped to the side and waved my hand.

  “Am I intruding?”

  “No.” I bit my bottom lip.

  “It appears I might be.”

  “It isn’t that.”

  “What is it, then?”

  If I told him I didn’t like the way he’d left after I spent the night at the farmhouse, would I sound like a shrew? “I don’t have anything to offer you except water,” I said instead.

  “I’ve actually come to invite you to dinner.”

  “Oh…um…” I looked over at my one and only pair of shoes nice enough to wear to work that was tucked under the divano. I cringed at the thought of putting them back on.

  I looked back at Ben, struck like I had been the first time we met by how handsome he was. His hazelnut eyes were so warm, and his smile so sweet. All I wanted to do was fall into his strong arms and rest my head against the broad expanse of his muscular chest. My gaze rested on his lips. Kissing him again would be quite nice too.

  He took a step closer. “You’re tired.” He reached up and brushed my hair from my face.

  I desperately needed to get it cut; my bangs had been in my eyes all day.

  “I should go,” he murmured.

  I clasped his hand and brought it to my face. When he cupped my cheek, I leaned into his palm.

  “Maybe not.”

  “Definitely not.” I sighed. “Except if you’re hungry or thirsty, in which case, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

  Ben wrapped his other arm around my waist. “I’m starving, Catarina, and I’ve come to exactly the right place.” With his hand still cupping my cheek, he leaned forward and kissed me.

  I groaned when he thrust his tongue into my mouth. Had any other kiss I’d ever had felt as right as this one did? Instead of being awkward, it was as though our mouths were a perfect fit. It wasn’t just our mouths; our bodies fit too.

  “God, I like kissing you.” Ben rested his forehead against mine.

  I looked around the casina. Other than the two-seat divano, which wasn’t all that comfortable even for one person, the only other place we could sit next to each other was at the dining table or on the bed.

  “Tell you what. Since you said you don’t have anything to eat or drink here, how about we go down to the farmhouse and I’ll make us dinner.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “And if I want to?”

  “That sounds nice.” I looked back over at my shoes, wishing I could just stay barefoot.

  “What?”

  What would Ben say if I admitted my feet hurt from being on them for two days straight? Would it give him a glimpse of the entitled, spoiled brat I’d been all my life?

  He took a step closer and cupped my cheek with his palm. “There it is again.”

  I looked into his eyes.

  “I wish I had the power to take away the memories that haunt you. Replace them with happy ones.”

  “Maybe you do,” I murmured, wishing as soon as I had that I hadn’t.

  “I’d like to believe I can.”

  “Ben, I…”

  He kissed me, perhaps knowing it was the only thing that would soothe me. “If I’m ever the cause of your sadness, I want you to tell me.”

  13

  Halo

  Tara took a step back and turned away from me, but I could see that she bit her lower lip.

  “Ah, so I am the cause.”

  “Not entirely,” she mumbled.

  It wasn’t long after Tara had gone upstairs two nights ago that I got a message from Striker, asking me to check in. When I told him what I’d witnessed when we were in Sienna, he suggested I lay low for a few days and see if anyone showed up at Valentini or followed Tara if she went back to the pensione.

  I thought about knocking on her door when I went up to bed to tell her I had to leave for a few days, but if she was asleep, I didn’t want to wake her.

  I’d kept a distant watch for almost forty-eight hours before deciding it was a waste of time. No one resembling the man I’d seen in Sienna came into the tasting room either day while she was there and, certainly, no one she’d had such a strong reaction to.

  Last night, after she had dinner with Pia and her mother on the villa’s terrazza, I’d watched from a distance as she walked back to the casina where she and Pia had taken her things earlier in the day. Less than twenty minutes later, the lights were off, and I was sure she was asleep.

  When she walked back to the casina earlier tonight, I made the decision to drive into town and pick up some groceries. I came straight here when I returned.

  How could I explain it to her now in a way that sounded at all plausible? “I told you the other night that my work is investigative,” I began.

  She stiffened and kept her back to me. Wrong tack. I was, in essence, holding up a red flag, and that wasn’t what I wanted to do.

  “Catarina?”

  “Yes?”

  “Please look at me.”

  She turned partway.

  “I received a message after you went to bed about a lead on a story that I needed to follow up on.”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “No? Yet I contributed to your sadness.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “What?”

  “Whenever my mother told my father that everything was fine, my sister and I knew it was anything but.”

  Tara smiled, and I couldn’t stand it a moment longer. I pulled her back into my arms. “It’s very difficult for me to be around you and not kiss you, not touch you.”

  “I feel the same way.” Tara finally looked into my eyes.

  “So, what about going to the farmhouse?”

  “I need to change my clothes.”

  “If you’re tired, I could help.”

  That got another smile out of her. However, not from me since she didn’t take me up on it.

  “You have your car,” she said when we walked outside.

  “I was in a hurry to see you.”

  She smiled a third time, and as much as it made me want to kiss her, I wanted to get us to the farmhouse more. That way, when I did bring my lips to hers, I wouldn’t have to think about stopping.

  The only thing I didn’t consider is how I would explain why I hadn’t offered to bring the groceries I’d picked up on my way back to Valentini into her casina and make dinner for her there.

  When I parked and went to fetch the bags, she offered to help, but otherwise, didn’t say anything.

  “What can I do?” she asked as I unloaded the bags.

  “Are you interested in wine, or are you getting tired of it?”

  “I’d love some,” she said, walking over to where several bottles were stored. I watched as she studied them. “Oh, you have a Biondi Santi.” She pulled the bottle out and held it up. “Would you mind?”

  “Not at all. A favorite of yours?”

  “I’ve never tried it, but I’ve been dying to. It’s said that the family invented Brunello.”

  “How does one invent a wine?”

  “Well,” she said, pouring two glasses after she ope
ned the bottle. “The story goes that in the mid-19th century, a local farmer, named Santi, nurtured a certain vineyard where he planted Sangiovese vines in a way he hadn’t any other. The soil, the sun, the rain—he believed—were as perfect a combination as there could ever be. He made wine from that vineyard only and aged it for several years. When Santi was given the opportunity to share it with the prime minister of Tuscany, the man declared it the best in all of Italy.”

  She swirled the wine and inhaled, whimpering in that way I loved. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and I smiled.

  “Santi named it Brunello, and since his vineyards were in the Montalcino region, Brunello di Montalcino was born.”

  “Did you learn all that from Pia? That’s the wine they make, right?”

  She took another sip. “Yes, and no. Or no, and yes.”

  I cocked my head.

  “No, I didn’t learn that from Pia, and yes, Valentini is known for their Brunello di Montalcino.”

  “She wasn’t exaggerating when she said you know a lot about wine.”

  “Wine and art,” she muttered. “I’m an expert in useless information,” she added under her breath.

  I set down the knife I was using to chop vegetables for our dinner and walked over to her. “Not useless,” I said, putting my arms around her waist. “Pia picked up on that right away.” I leaned forward and kissed her. I couldn’t help it. When she was in my arms, I was powerless not to. I touched the tip of her nose with my finger. “If I keep kissing you, we’ll never eat.”

  “I have to admit, I am hungrier than I thought I’d be. I was so exhausted when I got back to the casina tonight.”

  “Long day?” I asked, washing my hands and tossing the vegetables into the olive oil heating in the pan.

  “Tiring, but in a good way.”

  Tara told me how she and Pia had worked the tasting room together today and yesterday and how their sales were triple what they were the week before.

  “She said we are a good team.”

  “I would have to agree. The two of you seemed to hit it off right off the bat.”

  The haunted look in her eyes was fleeting, but I saw it and wished I’d kept my mouth shut.

  “What about tomorrow? Are the two of you working together again?”

  She took a drink of her wine and shook her head. “I’m off tomorrow since I’m working all weekend.”

  “Any idea what you’ll do?”

  “I’m going into Florence.”

  “For?”

  “Sto visitando il Museo Nazionale di San Marco,” she said in flawless Italian.

  “That was so fucking sexy,” I murmured, resting both my hands on the kitchen island where just two nights ago, she’d been spread out, showing me her tits.

  Tara smiled and came around to where I was cooking. “Um, I think you might want to turn the heat down a little.”

  Heat? Down? What did she say? I looked at the pan in front of me and at the edges of the vegetables that were turning black. “Oh. Right.” I turned the burner off.

  She laughed. “What just happened?”

  “Flashbacks,” I said, pointing to the counter with my spatula.

  “Yeah?” she asked, looking down at where my rock-hard cock strained my zipper.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Tell you what. You give me a taste, and I’ll reciprocate.”

  I looked up at her, and she motioned with her head to the pan. “A mushroom, please.”

  I grabbed a fork, speared one, and brought it to her mouth.

  “Mmm. That tastes so good. Your turn. What do you want to try?”

  Was she really saying what I thought she was? Unable to speak, I motioned to her tits with the fork.

  “This?” she asked, pointing where I had.

  I nodded. Maybe I grunted. I know I groaned when she pulled her shirt over her head and I saw her breasts were bare beneath it.

  I put one arm around her back and leaned forward, getting as much of her tit in my mouth as I could. I swirled my tongue around her nipple. Tara weaved her fingers in my hair, and when I went to move to the other breast, she pulled.

  “Uh-uh. My turn.”

  I stood and, since I’d suddenly gone mute, pointed at the pan of veggies.

  “A pepper, please.”

  I speared it and brought it to her mouth. She chewed it slowly, making the same sound she had when she tasted the wine. Her eyes, instead of rolling back in her head, stayed fixed on mine.

  She motioned with her hands to her boobs, but I had a different idea. Instead of going for seconds, I brought my lips to her mouth.

  “Mmm,” I moaned, finally finding my voice. “You taste so…damn…good.” I cupped her face with both my hands and pressed against her lips with my tongue, thrusting inside when she opened to me. When I angled my head and went deeper, Tara wrapped her arms around my neck.

  I reached down and put both hands on her ass, lifting until her legs went around my waist.

  “What do you want a taste of now, baby?”

  She plastered her mouth against mine and kissed me as hard as I’d kissed her. After a few moments of dueling tongues, I pulled back. “Does this mean it’s my turn again?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  I carried her around the counter and set her on her ass where I had the other night. Just like then, she leaned back, resting against the cool stone. I unfastened the button on her jeans and lowered the zipper.

  Since it was my turn, and I knew what I wanted to taste, I pulled her jeans and panties over her curves, and down until they fell to the floor.

  “Put your feet here,” I said, lifting one and then the other so they rested on the edge of the counter. “Drop your knees.”

  Tara was spread out before me, and I intended not just to taste, but to eat my fill.

  When I ran my tongue through her moist folds, she whimpered. I reached up with one hand and pinched the nipple I’d had a taste of. I’d get back to the other one soon.

  I drank in her wetness and gently inserted one finger into her pussy. Tara’s back arched, and she wove her fingers in my hair. She could pull all she wanted, but I had no intention of breaking the seal my lips had on her sex.

  I added a second finger and brushed her clit with the pad of my thumb. A groan built deep in her chest, slowly working it’s way up her neck until it came out of her mouth in a scream. I sucked in everything she gave me, grasping her hips with both hands to keep her from writhing away from my mouth.

  “I’m not finished,” I murmured when she tried to twist away.

  “I can’t…” she whined.

  “Wanna bet?” I dove back in, licking while my fingers continued their assault on every part of her perfect pussy. Her hands pulled at my hair, but my sense of taste and smell overpowered any feeling of pain.

  “Come on, Catarina. Give it to me again.”

  Instead of another scream, this time, she cried out her pleasure. The build was slower, but the wetness on my lips was no less voluminous.

  I kissed my way up her body, stopping to taste the nipple she’d deprived me of early. I remained there, going back and forth between both breasts until I felt the tension in her body ease.

  I looked up, and her eyes were open, studying me. “Your turn,” I said with a grin.

  14

  Tara

  Ben held his hand out to help me sit up. The stone counter felt ice cold on my overheated pussy, and I wiggled.

  “Here,” he said, handing me my panties, but I didn’t want them. I shook my head and pushed him back so I could stand. He turned to walk away, and I grabbed the belt loop on the back of his pants. He peered over his shoulder and smiled. “No more veggies?”

  “Not now.”

  He took a drink of wine and rested against the counter. I put my hands on the waist of his jeans and sunk to my knees in front of him, easing open his zipper and gasping when I realized he wore nothing under them.

  He grabbed my wrists before I could lower the
m any farther. “Catarina…”

  I wriggled from his grasp.

  “Let me,” I whispered, wanting to bring him the same kind of pleasure he’d brought me. The idea that, earlier, just imagining me spread out for him had distracted him, excited him, enough that he couldn’t focus, emboldened me to offer my challenge of tastes.

  “Ben,” I half-whimpered when his cock sprung from the confines of his jeans.

  He moaned when I touched the tip with my tongue. I looked up as I continued to swirl around him. “Catarina…” he said, his voice straining.

  If he said anything else, I didn’t hear him. I was just as lost in my desire to make him lose himself too.

  “Jesus,” he groaned, holding the sides of my head as he came in my mouth. “Come here.” He pulled me to my feet and held me close to him. He put his fingers on my chin and brought his lips to my neck. “My turn,” he murmured, licking a trail to right below my ear.

  When chill bumps covered my body, he wrapped me tighter in his arms, laughing that we were both naked but for the shirt that covered the top half of him.

  When I reached for my top, he took it from my hand and helped me put it back over my head then handed me my panties. At the same time he pulled on his pants, I heard a cell phone.

  “Not mine,” he said when my eyes met his.

  I rushed over and pulled mine out of my bag. It wasn’t a number I recognized, but it had to be either my dad or Brand calling. “Excuse me,” I muttered, rushing out the door to the terrazza. “Brand?” I whispered.

  “Hello, passerotta.”

  “Thank God,” I muttered, looking over my shoulder to make sure Ben hadn’t followed me out. “Where are you? I’ve been so worried.”

  “I’m here. Where are you?”

  “At Valentini.”

  “Yes, sweetheart, I’m aware. Where specifically?”

  I told him I was at the farmhouse.