Every Move She Makes

by Beverly Barton

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him and wondered if all women in love felt so utterly, completely insane about the man they adored.

  As Mark dried himself with a towel, he said, “I could give you the same pleasure, without our having sex.”

  Yes, her body screamed. Yes! She ached with the need for release. But she didn’t want to undress, to lay herself bare and vulnerable, even knowing that Mark would not invade her body.

  “I can’t take off my clothes,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “Remember, honey, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  She sighed. “I’d like to lie in your arms and have you kiss me and…and touch me.”

  Mark scooped her up in his arms. Surprised by his sudden move, she yelped softly, but quickly adjusted and threw her arm around his neck. He laid her on the bed and came down beside her. He was a big, powerful man. But he wasn’t Junior Blalock. Mark would never hurt her. She relaxed. He kissed her, and as he deepened the kiss, he ran his hands over her body, caressing her through her clothes. The soft silk blouse, the wrinkled blue skirt, the confining panty hose. When he lifted his head and gazed into her eyes, she saw the love he felt for her.

  “If I do anything you don’t want me to do, tell me immediately and I’ll stop,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “May I take off your panty hose?”

  “Just my panty hose. Nothing else.”

  “All right.”

  He slid his hands under her skirt, grasped the waistband of her panty hose, and slowly, carefully tugged them over her hips and down her legs. After tossing aside the sheer hose, he massaged her feet. Regina shivered with apprehension. Was she ready for this?

  When Mark eased up beside her and lowered his mouth to her breast, she tensed. But the moment his lips suckled her through her blouse and bra, her femininity tightened and a wild sensation shot from her breasts to the center of her body. She whimpered as he sucked at one breast and rubbed the other with his fingers.

  Moisture flooded between her legs. Her body clenched and unclenched. Mark unzipped her skirt. She drew in a deep breath, preparing to protest, but when he slid his hand beneath the skirt and under her panties, she simply shivered with anticipation.

  “Is it all right for me to touch you?” he asked.

  Was it? Could she enjoy Mark’s erotic caresses without panicking? “Yes. But if I say stop, then—”

  “I’ll stop immediately.”

  He touched her there, in the most intimate of places. Hesitantly at first, and then more boldly. While his fingers worked magic between the swollen feminine lips, his mouth covered hers and kissed her until she was breathless.

  “Mark!” she cried out, aware that release was close. So close.

  “Let it happen, honey. Please, just let it happen.”

  Her orgasm rocketed through her, an explosion of immense satisfaction that went on and on and on. When she bucked up against his hand, he moved his fingers harder and faster. She cried and whimpered and finally fell apart.

  When the aftershocks subsided, Mark removed his hand from her panties and pulled her into his arms. She cuddled against him, sighing his name over and over again. Regina had never known anything so wonderful. There were many ways to make love, she realized. Only with Mark could this have happened. Because she loved him. Because she trusted him. And because he didn’t ask more of her than she was capable of giving.

  “Thanks for getting here so quickly and for keeping it quiet.” Webb shook hands with Frank Nelson. “I’d rather Carolyn didn’t know about this tonight. She’s been upset enough by the break-in. I’m afraid if she knows someone poisoned my dogs, Viola would have to give her a sedative.”

  Ella couldn’t believe this had happened. That those big, lovable hounds of her father’s were dead. They were assuming the dogs had been poisoned because there was no evidence of wounds on them anywhere.

  “I’ll get the dogs to Doc Hambry and tell him we need autopsies right way,” Frank said. “I’ve sent Wilkes and Bankhead to inspect the kennels and go over the grounds for any evidence.”

  “My guess is that they won’t find anything.” Webb paced back and forth on the patio. “I’d say my dogs ate all the evidence.”

  “Poisoned meat.” Frank nodded. “Easiest way to kill an animal. But dammit all, Webb, who’d kill a man’s hunting dogs?”

  “Someone who hated him. Someone who wanted to hurt him.”

  “You’re thinking Reed Conway, and I’m telling you that there’s no way I can accuse the man of this crime without some evidence.” Frank removed his hat and scratched his head. “I’ve come darn close to harassing Reed more than once these past few weeks. If I step over the line again, he’ll be bringing me up on charges.”

  “Then it’s time I had a talk with Reed,” Webb said. “I’ve a good mind to go over to Judy’s right now and have it out with him.”

  “Now, don’t you go doing something you’re going to regret,” Frank told him. “Remember, you’re a senator and whatever you do can wind up front page headlines. Besides, Reed isn’t living with his mama anymore. He’s moved into the room above Conway’s garage.”

  Webb slammed his right fist into the palm of his left hand. The smack reverberated in the nighttime stillness. Ella jumped. Her father was fighting mad, and all his anger was directed at Reed. As much as she wanted to believe Reed incapable of such an inhumane act, she, like her father, could think of no one else who truly hated her family, and Webb in particular. Had Reed’s years in prison dehumanized him to the extent that he could ruthlessly murder innocent dogs?

  Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She remembered Stonewall, Lee, and Beau as pups: boisterous, rambunctious, yelping and playing. And the first time her father had taken them hunting, he’d come back with tales of what fine beasts he’d raised.

  “As soon as Doc Hambry finishes up those autopsies, I want my animals back,” Webb said. “I plan on burying them in the coon dog cemetery. They were fine hunting dogs. They deserve a place of honor for their final rest.”

  Ella heard the slight catch in her father’s voice and noted the fine mist covering his eyes. She could still see the image of him hunkered down over Stonewall, his favorite of the three, stroking the dead dog’s slightly swollen body. Tears had trickled down his cheeks, but he’d wiped them away quickly before he stood and moved on to check Lee and Beau.

  “You and Ella might as well go on to bed,” Frank said. “Nothing else y’all can do tonight. I’ll give you a call tomorrow morning, if we find anything out here. And I’ll let you know as soon as I hear back from Doc Hambry.”

  Webb nodded. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He glanced at Ella. “You ready to go in, princess?”

  “You go ahead, Daddy. I think I’ll stay out here for a while. I couldn’t sleep even if I went to bed.”

  “I’m going inside to pour myself some bourbon and toast those three fine animals.” Webb grabbed Ella around the shoulders and hugged her to his side. “Don’t stay out too long.” He glanced up at the night sky. Streaks of summer lightning drew closer and closer.

  “I’ll come in before it starts raining,” she promised.

  The moment her father was out of earshot, Frank Nelson said, “Webb sure did think a heap of those animals, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Miss Ella, do you believe Reed Conway poisoned your daddy’s hounds?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “The way I look at it, if Reed’s the one behind your harassment and behind the break-in and now killing Webb’s dogs, then it’s only a matter of time before he targets one of y’all for some real harm. You. Your daddy. Your mama.”

  Ella shivered. “No, I…I can’t believe that. You’re saying he’ll kill again, aren’t you? Do you think he truly hates my father that much, that he’d risk spending the rest of his life in prison? He keeps prof
essing that he didn’t murder Junior Blalock, that all he wants is to prove who the real killer is and clear his name. If that’s true—”

  “You shouldn’t be listening to anything Reed Conway has to say. Nothing would please him more than for you and your daddy to be on opposite sides, you believing Reed innocent after your daddy prosecuted him for murder.”

  Ella didn’t know how to respond, so she said nothing. Frank tipped his hat and went to catch up with the two men inspecting the kennels. She glanced up at her mother’s room and wondered if Carolyn was asleep. She hoped so. The last thing her mother needed was to be upset more than she already was. And what about her father? He might have let things go for tonight, but come morning, he might confront Reed. She couldn’t let him do that. There was no telling what her father might do. Or what Reed might do.

  And just who are you worried about, your father or Reed?

  There was only one way to prevent a confrontation between the two men. She had to see Reed herself. If he had been the one to slaughter her father’s hunting dogs, she would know the truth the moment she looked into those cold blue eyes of his.

  Having satisfactorily rationalized her behavior to herself, Ella went upstairs, changed from her navy linen dress to a casual cotton dress, and replaced her heels with sandals. She grabbed her purse, picked up her car keys and slipped down the back stairs. Her mother’s bedroom door had been closed and so had her father’s, so neither had any idea that she wasn’t safe and sound in her bed. She hoped that if anyone heard the roar of the Jag’s motor, they would think it came from next door or across the street.

  The trip to Conway’s Garage took all of ten minutes. She eased her car around to the back of the building, killed the engine, and got out. Was she crazy for coming here? Was she asking for trouble? What if Reed was as bad as people thought he was? What if he was a murderer? He could snap her neck like a twig with his big, brutal hands.

  A shiver of apprehension zinged up her spine. She glanced at the wooden stairs that led up to the second floor. Only a dim light shone through the window that she could see from this angle. Did that mean Reed was still awake? Of course, there was a chance he wasn’t even home, that this trip had been for nothing.

  A jagged streak of heat lightning crackled across the sky, followed by a loud boom of thunder. The storm was getting closer. She took a deep breath, garnered her courage and started climbing the outside staircase. When she reached the halfway point, she heard the soft, sweet strands of a mellow jazz tune. Her heart skipped a beat. Reed was home. He was listening to music.

  Another blaze of lightning flashed. An earth-shattering rumble of thunder announced that the storm was fast approaching. Ella hesitated when she reached the door. Either you confront Reed or your father will.

  She lifted her hand and knocked. No reply. She knocked again. Harder. Repeatedly. Suddenly the door swung open. There stood Reed. Big and broad, his shoulders filling the doorway. His blond hair was tousled, as if he’d been raking his fingers through it. She surveyed him and noted he was barefoot and wore nothing but a pair of unsnapped jeans. He stared at her, narrowing his gaze until his eyes were mere slits. Ella swallowed her fear.

  “As I live and breathe, if it isn’t Judge Eleanor Porter come knocking at my door.” Reed’s mouth curved into the cocky grin that was capable of turning her stomach inside out. “What are you doing here, babe? Come for some more of what I gave you this afternoon?”

  Without any conscious thought, acting purely on instinct, Ella drew back her hand and slapped Reed’s face. She gasped when she realized what she’d done. She’d never struck another person in her entire life.

  Still grinning, Reed rubbed his cheek. That deadly stare of his pinned her to the spot. Run, damn it, run! she told herself. Reed grabbed her wrist and jerked her up against him. For just a second she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t respond. When she finally tried to pull free, he held fast.

  Placing his mouth over her ear, he whispered, “I’m going to give you what you came here for.”

  Chapter 21

  Reed hauled her into his apartment, kicked the door shut with his bare foot, and gripped the back of her neck with his big hand. Fear raced through her body, like the white streaks of lightning racing across the black sky that she could see through the windows facing the alley. Her heartbeat accelerated alarmingly. Perspiration trickled down her spine and between her breasts. The room was warm and humid, like the weather outside. An ancient ceiling fan spun overhead, creaking with each rotation as it blew the tepid air around the room. Even if consciously Ella didn’t realize that Reed’s place had no air conditioning, her damp, flushed body recognized the fact.

  The scent of a man permeated the air. Remnants of cleanliness left by an unscented soap. Heat-induced perspiration. A unique muskiness, as personally identifiable as fingerprints. She could not only see Reed, rawly masculine and sexy as hell, but she could smell him, smell the very essence of his masculinity. Her fingers itched to touch him, to comb over his chest, to tease and tempt and entice. Powerless to resist, she gave in to the urge to look him over from head to toe. Her gaze traveled the length of his six-three body, lingering over the wide shoulders and powerful, deeply tanned arms. His jeans were undone and the zipper only halfway up, revealing the tautness of his belly and exposing the pencil-thin line of brown hair that disappeared behind the closure of the zipper. His growing erection swelled, telling her without words that simply touching her turned him on.

  The mournful saxophone wail wove around Ella, like unseen, sensual hands caressing her. The cool jazz melody whispered with bass and drums and piano, but gave center stage to the provocative sax. She felt the heat within her as well as the sweltering external temperature that embedded itself in Spring Creek every summer.

  Bringing her inspection upward, her glare met Reed’s—the determined, daring gazes of two strong-willed people, neither willing to give an inch. She tried to twist her neck and free herself from his hold. He refused to release her. Her breathing quickened. Reed’s gaze dropped to her breasts, compelling her to watch the rapid rise and fall of her chest—and the peaks of her tight nipples pressing against the cotton dress. Realizing how he was looking at her, and why he was staring so intently, stimulated clenching sensations between her thighs, in the very core of her body.

  I don’t want to feel this way. How is it possible that every time I’m near Reed Conway, I get hot and bothered? Why do I want this man in a way I’ve never wanted another?

  With his hand secure at the nape of her neck, he drew her toward him, slowly, taking his time, never breaking eye contact, as if their melded gazes connected them physically and emotionally. His cold blue eyes no longer appeared so cold. A white heat burned in their depths.

  Don’t be fooled, she cautioned herself. You know Reed isn’t emotionally involved. It’s only sex for him. Nothing more. He wants you the way he’d want any other willing female.

  Damn! Was he right? Had she actually come here to see if they could repeat this afternoon’s incredible experience? Had she persuaded herself that she’d come here to demand the truth—had he or had he not poisoned her father’s hunting dogs?—when all along she’d come to him for more earth shattering sex? What sort of woman was she that she had allowed Reed to reduce her to a smoldering mass of sexual needs?

  Reeling her in, he snaked out his other hand and grasped the side of her waist; then when the gap between their bodies closed, he wrapped his arm around her. She knew she should struggle more, try harder to get away from him, but she didn’t. When her breasts pressed against his bare chest, he speared his fingers into her hair and jerked her head back, preparing her for his attack.

  “Noooo…” she moaned as his mouth covered hers.

  The moment their lips touched, she was lost and she knew it. There was a brutality about him that wasn’t akin to cruelty. He was primitive man driven by basic needs. And he made her feel those same primeval desires. Nothing mattered except appe
asing those hungers. He didn’t push for entry, instead he ravaged first the upper lip and then the lower. And all the while one of his massive hands held her head in place while the other clutched one of her buttocks. His actions claimed her, a preliminary possession that informed her without words that she was his.

  With a desperation felt deep inside, she tried to resist, pleaded with herself to stop before things got completely out of hand. Remember why you came here. If Reed killed Daddy’s dogs… But he didn’t. Somehow she knew he hadn’t harmed Beau and Stonewall and Lee. And if you’re wrong? she asked herself.

  Suddenly, when she felt his stiff erection throbbing against her thighs, rational thought ceased to exist. Her body recalled the pleasure of being with this man. And it wanted more. His mouth moved over her chin and down her throat. She gulped in deep breaths. He buried his face against her neck and licked softly. Tiny flicks, damp and arousing, sending shivers dancing throughout her body.

  Don’t touch him! Keep your hands off him and maybe you can still resist. But it was already too late. Her arms lifted up, up, up…. Her hands curved over his wide, muscular shoulders. She sighed. Ah, the feel of him.

  His hand on her butt pushed her harder and harder against him, until she whimpered and automatically rubbed her mound against his sex. She clamped her hands tighter on his shoulders, her short nails biting into his naked flesh. He groaned, then suddenly released his hold on her head to seek the zipper at the back of her dress. Before she realized what was happening, Reed undid the zipper and lifted her arms to free the dress. The cotton garment slid over her hips, down her legs, and pooled around her feet. She stood before him in only her pink floral panties. As his gaze scorched her bare breasts, she knew why she hadn’t bothered to put on her bra when she’d changed clothes. Heaven help her, she had come to Reed for this. Her father’s dead hunting dogs had been nothing but the feeble excuse she’d given herself for doing what she’d longed to do. Go to Reed.