He got up and moved toward her. “I know, but I can’t risk it. What if someone tracks her through you? The whole town knows you’re working for me now since your ex-fiancé announced his lawsuit on TV.” The thought of Brad Knoll made his blood boil. That man had hurt Holly and Wes didn’t think she had fully recovered.
Holly was quiet for a beat before her shoulders relaxed. “I can see your point.” She took a breath, then added, “I wouldn’t let her get hurt, Wes.”
He believed in Holly, but what if he was wrong? He couldn’t let his sister pay the price. “I owe it to Michelle to fix my screw-ups before I let her know I’m alive.”
She shrugged. “Your decision. But if your sister is smart and tough enough to succeed in competitive surfing, I doubt she’s the type who’s going to appreciate being protected.”
Pride in his sister nearly choked him. “She’s one of the top five surfers in the world.”
Holly uncrossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “God, Brockman, you are such a man. I meant she’ll be furious with you for disappearing to protect her.”
He grinned, reached out, and put his hands on her shoulders. “Maybe not all women are as confident and capable as you are, Holly.”
She met his gaze. “I don’t need a man, so what?”
No, she was afraid to need a man, or anyone. He wanted her to feel safe with him. He wasn’t the man he had been in Los Angeles. He had grown, learned, changed. He was a man she could fight with and believe he would come back.
He was a man she could trust.
He ran his hands over her shoulders to her back, and leaned down to say, “How many times do I have to come back for you to believe in me?”
The pulse at the base of her neck throbbed. “There’s nothing to believe in.”
“Me. Believe in me, Hillbaby. You can trust me with your truths. I won’t use them against you. I won’t walk out and never come back.” He needed her to know it. Believe it. Hold onto it. Because Holly made him want to live again. She wouldn’t turn her back on him when he had to make the hard choices.
Like his wife had. Like his so-called friends had. Even his sister hadn’t stood by him when he tried to do the right thing, but Wes didn’t blame her. She had been pulled into the situation and beaten up. He had failed her.
He skimmed his right hand up her back to her nape and curled his palm around it.
“What do you want from me?” Her voice was thready. Tense. Uncertain.
He looked at the picture a couple feet to her left on the dresser. “Tell me about that picture of your family.”
Little shallow lines of confusion formed between her eyes. “It’s the last family portrait before my mom left. Why? It’s just a picture.”
He tried to imagine how hard it had to have been for Holly. “You must have missed her. Missed having a woman around.”
She shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
He rubbed the back of her neck, feeling years’ worth of tension and pain knotting her muscles. He tried to absorb it by pressing her body into his. Into her ear, he said, “More, Hillbay. Tell me more. I want to know you.”
Her body softened against his. “She left after I had a dance recital. I wasn’t good enough to get the lead. It was some dance about a princess—I can’t really remember. I just remember trying to twirl and I fell, smacking into the princess and ruining the recital. I was embarrassed and scared and crying. My mother came up on stage and I ran to her.”
Wes felt it coming. It knotted in his gut and made him forget to breathe. It took all his concentration to keep his voice gentle. “What happened?” He stroked her back, feeling the line of her bra, and the bulge of her knotted muscles.
She took a breath. “She pushed me away and went to the princess girl. She never said another word to me that night. The next morning, she was gone.”
Christ. “You’re mother is a class-A bitch.”
He felt her laugh against the skin of his neck. “It was a long time ago.”
And she hadn’t danced since then. No wonder she refused to dance. Everyone, no matter how loving their family was, had scars. Everyone was shaped by family and events. He knew that. But for a woman to be so cold to her daughter was unbelievable. “Look at me.” He wondered if she’d do it.
She lifted her head and faced him.
No tears. His PI didn’t cry—it would be a weakness someone could use against her, like not being able to dance. But he saw the pain of rejection in her eyes. “One day, you will dance with me. Just me. And you will know that I will be there to catch you if you fall.” He meant every single word.
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m going to solve this case and you are going to have your life back. We’ll be done.” She swallowed once. “I’ll be done with you.”
She thought she’d dump him before he could dump her, or reject her. “But you’re not done yet, are you, Hillbaby?” He leaned forward to take her mouth.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her hot mouth for him.
Warmth and desire punched him hard, and he slid his hand down to her ass. It had never been like this with his wife, or the women he’d had since then. Honest, real, not about money, power, or climbing the success ladder, but about two people needing sex and comfort. Intimacy. He reached for the hem of her shirt, and lifted his mouth from hers to yank it off. He dropped it and lowered his gaze.
A skimpy little jewel green bra. Her nipples were puckered, the rosy tips pushing at the fabric. His mouth watered while his cock pulsed. His throat was thick with need, but he managed to ask, “Panties?” Did they match? What did she have on?
She pushed him so he stepped back, hit the bed, and sat down. After kicking off her shoes, she undid her jeans and shimmied them down her thighs.
His chest locked as he took her in. Jewel green like the bra, but spiderweb thin, exposing her pubic hair and swollen lips. Nearly dizzy, he raked his gaze down to her feet, and back up her long, shapely legs. Then over her belly.
The scar.
He reached out and traced the scar. He lifted his stare up to her breasts, then her face. “Come here. Closer.”
She stepped between his parted thighs.
He inhaled, catching her scent mixed with her excitement. Jesus, he wanted her. Leaning forward, he captured a nipple through the silky bra.
She made a noise.
Exciting him more, he suckled harder, feeling her hips move forward, seeking. He wrapped his hands around her waist, and glided them over the smooth swell of her hips, brushing the web-thin panties and down the clenched muscles of her thighs. Her thighs trembled. He knew if he touched her between her legs, she’d be wet. And if he stroked her clit, she’d be swollen. Letting go of her nipple, he ran his hands around her legs to the inside of her thighs. Then he looked at her face. Beautiful. Sexy. Open to him. Her eyes mirrored passion and need. Her mouth was soft. Her neck elongated. “Hillbaby, tell me what you want, what you need.”
She put her hands on his shoulders and lifted her breasts by taking a deep breath of air. “I want to come.”
Her simple need. “I know. And you are so close, aren’t you?” Just to torment her, he drew his fingers higher on the inside of her thighs. Then he leaned forward to tongue her scar.
She jerked back.
Against the warm skin of her stomach, he snapped, “Don’t do that. You won’t hide anything from me.” One day, he would get to the truth of the scar, but for now, all he needed was her trust. Using the tip of his tongue, he followed the scar down, feeling the jags and lumps that scars formed. At the edge of her panties, he used his tongue to nudge it aside. He skimmed his fingers up her thighs to the edge of her panties.
She groaned, shivered, then tried to shove him backward with her hands on his shoulders.
He contracted his stomach muscles and resisted her. He drew his fingers around the front of her thighs, and took his mouth away. “Take off your panties.”
She tried to defy him. “Take off your c
lothes.”
“So you can jump me before I’m done with you? So you can grab your orgasm, fast and hard?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I want to watch you build and build until you break. Until I give you the pleasure your body begs me for.” She was beautiful and sexy and, damn it, he wasn’t going to be just another orgasm to her.
Her blue eyes darkened. “I’m not taking orders here, book boy.”
She underestimated him. She thought he would do her bidding like a good boy so he could get into her panties. But he meant to have all of her. As she’d never given herself to any other man. Ever. Closing his hands around her waist, he moved her back a step and stood up. Holding her waist, he said, “Take off your panties or I’ll do it for you.”
It showed on her face. Uncertainty. It almost made him give in. Slide his pants down and fuck her just to give her the orgasm and wipe that look off her face. How was it that she thought being a woman to him made her powerless? It made him angry. “Take them off, Holly.”
He watched her struggle and the anger evaporated. Her eyes were her downfall. She wanted the orgasm. She needed him. She feared the intimacy that required trust. And she didn’t know how to keep it all under control. He kept his hands on her waist.
She wouldn’t give in. “You want them off, you take them off.”
Slowly, he sank to his knees, drawing his hands down her waist, then skimmed over the edge of her panties, leaving them in place. He brought his hands to the insides of her thighs and pushed her legs apart.
The thin, delicate strip of fabric between her legs clung damply to her. Inhaling, the scent of her wet desire went straight to his balls. His control shattered.
She wanted the panties on, then he’d go through them.
Using his thumbs, he slid them to the tops of her inner thighs and beneath the delicate fabric to rub the pads of his thumbs along her seam. Parting her wet curls, he leaned forward and licked her through the panties.
“Oh.”
He heard her bite the word off as she canted her hips forward. “More,” he demanded. Sliding one thumb deep inside of her, he used his tongue to press the wet, silky fabric against her clit. It molded to her, creating friction.
Her breath grew harsh. She dropped her hand to the back of his head. “Wes.”
Her soft voice rocked him. He’d give her what she wanted, anything. “What, baby? I’ll give you the orgasm that you want.”
She closed her eyes, then opened them. “I want more than that. I want to touch you, taste you, feel you.”
Her courage stunned him. He rolled up to his feet and kissed her hard. Then he stripped off his shoes and clothes. When he looked at her, she was reaching for the front clasp of her bra. Going to her naked, he brushed her hands away. She had met him halfway.
More than that, she understood that he needed more from her.
“Let me.” He unhooked the bra and slid it off her. Then he stripped off her panties. When he rose to his full height, he pulled Holly against him, just to feel her skin, her curves in his arms. Dropping his mouth to the curve of her shoulder, he said, “You make me feel alive, Holly. You make me want to fight again. And God, you are so sexy, it makes me want to possess every part of you.”
She leaned her head back to look up at him. “I don’t have much to give.”
That made his heart stutter. “The hell you don’t.” He lifted her up in his arms and put her on the bed. Following her down, he laid over her and pushed her thighs apart. “You have what I need, Holly.” She was so ready, the head of his dick slid inside her. He held himself there, waiting.
Her eyes darkened to middle blue. “This I can give you.” She tilted her hips up.
“Keep looking at me.” He thrust into her, burying himself deeper than he’d ever been inside any woman. When she gasped, he held himself still. “Too much?” He felt her clench and pulse around him and, God, it was perfect.
“Yes. No. Don’t stop.”
Like he could. “I won’t.” He took her mouth and made good on his promise, thrusting deeper and harder as she writhed and arched into an orgasm. He raised his mouth from hers and watched. “Look at me!”
She did, letting him to see the pleasure sweep her away. Allowing him to see the moment she stopped fighting and let herself be vulnerable. Sexy and priceless was his last thought as he pressed even deeper into her and came in long, hot, endless vibrations.
Finally able to breathe, he had started to tell her what she meant to him when his cell phone rang.
Chapter 16
The sound of the cell phone broke the moment. Holly had been staring up into Wes’s face, into his eyes. She had seen the climax take him, felt him come deep inside of her. His expression had told her that she was special. That sex between them was special. She had to put things right, remind them both that this was temporary.
So she had started to tell him the truth about the scar that he was so strangely fascinated with. But the phone rang from somewhere on the floor where Wes had left his pants.
“It’s George, most likely,” Wes said. He had his arms braced on either side of her head. He kissed her forehead, got up, and quickly found his pants. Once he fished out his cell phone, he answered with, “So, are you in?”
Holly got up and started dressing while he paced. If George got them onto Cullen’s boat, they might find some answers. And when they solved the case, Wes could find his sister. After pulling on her jeans, she picked up her bra.
“Okay, we’ll meet you there.” Wes hung up and looked at her. “He’s leaving my house now so he’ll get to Cullen’s boat first.”
Holly fastened the bra and picked up her shirt. “How did he get permission?”
He pulled on his pants and picked up his shirt. “He contacted Cullen’s mother in Oregon and told her he was interested in buying the boat. She was very cooperative.”
Holly looked around for her hair clip and spotted it on the dresser. Twisting up her hair, she said, “As far as I know, his mother hasn’t come to Goleta to claim Cullen’s body, or find out what happened to him.”
Wes put on his shoes and stood up from the edge of the bed. “Maybe they’re not close. I’m sure the police have contacted her. Why?”
She turned around, looked at him, and felt a hollow place open up in her chest. She hated it, hated the vulnerable feeling Wes exposed in her. “After we search Cullen’s boat, I’m going to Riverside. I’ll call you if I find anything.”
He reached out and pulled her to him, down across his thighs. He pushed his hand deep into her hair. “Thank you, Holly.”
She shifted, feeling nervous. “For what? It was just sex.”
His smile spread in a warm and wicked grin. “No, it wasn’t. It was great sex and more.” He leaned his face close to her. “You trusted me.”
“Knock it off, Brockman. We need to get going.” She levered off his lap.
He grabbed her hand. “Holly, I don’t want you going to Riverside alone. If you still need to go after we take a look at Cullen’s boat, I’ll go with you.”
She went still, but her mind raced. “Why?”
He looked up at her with his green eyes. “It could be dangerous.”
Was he serious? “That’s what you’re paying me for, book boy. Don’t worry about the danger, that’s my job.”
Standing up, he kept hold of her hand. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. It’s called caring. People do it all the time.” He leaned down, kissed her, and added, “Let’s go. We’ll take my car.”
They ended up parking in the parking lot behind Wes’s bookstore and walking to the docks. This time it was full daylight on a Sunday afternoon, unlike when Holly followed Cullen and Tanya to the docks after the book club meeting. People milled around, tourists buying food from the vendors and looking at the boats. Holly stayed quiet as they walked to the gate that would let them into the section where the boats were docked. The water below them smacked against the pilings and hulls. The air smelled like brine, o
ld seaweed, and the oily scent of boats.
She took it all in, acutely aware of how vulnerable and exposed Wes was as he walked along beside her. She had her gun in her purse, but now she wished she’d put on a holster and worn a jacket. There was a vibration in the air that she hoped was from the sound of boat engines as they went in and out of the harbor, and not because Wes was in danger.
Two little boys raced past her. She turned to watch them and heard their mother calling out for them to slow down. For a second, her concentration was on the two boys and their bright, laughing faces. When she realized what she was doing, she jerked her head back around, brutally ignoring the regret in her gut, and focused on her job.
She spotted George by the gate waiting for them. Heading toward him, she looked around again. She needed to keep her mind on Wes’s safety, on finding the connection that would lead them to Cullen’s killer, and the person screwing with Wes’s life.
Someone from his past.
“I just got here,” George said as they walked up to him. “I stopped by the police station to get the key.”
She watched as he turned and inserted the key into the lock. George had shed his coat, choosing to wear a short-sleeved black pullover. She was pretty sure he’d strapped a gun to his ankle. He didn’t seem like the type to go unarmed. Like her, he believed Wes was in danger.
George kept scanning the docks just like she did. Habit, or did he feel uneasy, too? Or maybe it was just the knowledge that they were going onto a dead man’s boat. While George held the gate, she and Wes walked through.
The slap of the water against the hulls of the boats was louder. Down the dock a ways, a boat was heading in toward the slip. Up on her left, a group of young twenty-somethings laughed as they moved around on a medium-sized boat. George led the way to Cullen’s boat, while she and Wes walked side by side one step behind him. From what Holly remembered, the boat was about halfway down the dock on the right.
Wes said, “Did you talk to Rodgers, George?”
They both saw him nod, then he said, “She said she didn’t believe I was interested in buying the boat and I’d better damn well tell her if we find anything related to the case.” He slowed down as they approached Cullen’s boat.
The Sex On Beach Book Club Page 20
