Cord’s expression shifts. “Not a waste of money if it can turn a guy on like it’s turning me on.”
I can see on his face that he isn’t kidding. “You like it that much?” I dare to ask.
His eyes run over me again. “I like the entire outfit put together. Want some help taking the corset off?” When his eyes lift back up to mine, there’s an unmistakable glint in their depths that tells me he wants to do a whole heck of a lot more than help me with the corset.
The bottom drops out of my stomach as a new heat begins to grow much lower.
This is bad, bad, bad…
My body craves what he wants, and my mind is wanting to shut off so that I can do something reckless for once. If I thought he was playing with me, I’d end this conversation immediately, but I can visibly see the effect I am having on him. His jeans hide nothing. I could just imagine Sidney, the queen of hook-ups, cheering me on, urging me to do something wild for once. I’ve never had sex with anyone that wasn’t my boyfriend at the time, but I definitely want to with Cord.
It’s just sex, I tell myself. It’s not like he’s asking me out on a date, and we obviously need to work this sexual tension out of our systems. It’s only become worse since he’d kissed me at the warehouse. I’ve been achingly aware of his every move, even though I haven’t wanted to admit it to myself.
I hold his gaze and nod.
That’s all the answer he needs.
His eyes darken with raw hunger as he slowly walks over to me, gently nudging me back against the wall as his lips claim mine. The kiss is deep and hot right from the start, and the little hint of doubt that starts to filter into my conscious fades from my mind.
He doesn’t have his hair pulled back tonight, and I enjoy sinking my hands into it and tightening my fists around the soft strands. I try not to lose myself to his seduction as his mouth melds to mine, his fingers niftily working the little cinches on the front of the corset. It’s a lost cause as we both seem to lose a bit of control.
The corset is tossed to the floor, and Cord pulls back so he can allow his gaze to roam over me. His eyes turn heavy-lidded, and he reaches down and pulls his shirt up and over his head, tossing it carelessly aside.
If there were any hidden doubts waiting to snap me out of this mindless lust for him, the sight of his ripped abs and the giant, black, detailed cross tattoo along his left side erases them. I step forward, ready to explore with my hands, but Cord lightly pushes me back against the wall again as his lips begin to explore down my neck and to my chest.
My head falls back, my hands tightening in his hair as I close my eyes and enjoy what we’re doing. Music still plays overhead, and I lose myself to the sensations of those sexy lips roaming over my chest as I arch my back.
As Cord’s mouth explores, I run my hands over his broad, smooth shoulders. There’s so much I want to do, but he distracts me as he straightens and captures my lips with his. His hands are on my thighs now, going beneath my skirt. My panties quickly join the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor, and soon he has me writhing in his arms as he explores me intimately.
Cord breaks the kiss and looks down at me, his eyes searching mine as his hand slides out from beneath my skirt. “You sure?”
I quickly nod. We can’t stop now. I want this too badly now that he’s got me primed and ready.
He flashes me a sexy smile as he pulls his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. While he retrieves a condom, I go to work on his belt, then the button on his jeans. As I’m easing down his zipper, Cord rips open the condom and then takes over, brushing my hands out of the way. A second later, he has me pinned against the wall, my legs wrapped around his hips as he begins to move inside me. He quickly adjusts his hold, gripping my hips tighter as the pace changes, and we both grow more frantic.
My lips clamp shut as I try to muffle my moans as pleasure spirals throughout me, and soon, Cord is groaning into my ear until we both still against the wall. Neither of us move from our intimate embrace as we take a moment to catch our breath. After a few minutes, Cord shifts my hips as he eases out of me, and then he gently lowers my legs to the floor. He keeps an arm around my waist until he’s sure I’m steady on my feet before releasing me so that he can remove the condom. I look away as I tug my skirt back down over my hips. Reality is beginning to set in as the fitting room comes back into focus.
I just had sex at work.
With Cord Bodine.
What the hell has gotten into me lately?
Cord zips up his jeans, fastens his belt, and picks up his shirt off the floor. His eyes connect with mine as he slips it on, hiding those delicious abs from my sight. “See you at school,” he murmurs with a satisfied smile before he runs his hands through his hair and saunters out of the fitting room.
I blink, then realize I am still standing there in just my skirt and combat boots. My face heats up as I quickly grab my bra and rush to put the rest of my clothes back on. With shaking fingers, I comb out my tousled hair and then grab the corset, hurriedly cinching it back up and fastening it to the hanger. I have a job to do; I’ll worry about my momentary lapse in judgement later.
When I’m positive I have my composure in place, I open the fitting room door and step into the hall. I freeze when I see Dane and Cord talking at the entrance of the hallway, and I watch as Cord says something to Dane, then turns and walks off. Dane just shakes his head, and then he must sense me, because his head turns as his eyes connect with mine. Disapproval is written clear across his face.
He knows.
My face is probably turning scarlet, and I quickly duck into the opposite fitting room, pretending I haven’t searched it already for discarded clothing. As my eyes scan the empty room, I feel anxiety swelling in my gut. I love this job, but having sex when I’m supposed to be working is likely going to get my butt fired.
Knowing I need to face the consequence of my actions, I step back into the hall, fully expecting to find Dane waiting for me, but he’s not. A relieved exhale escapes me. If he were going to fire me, he would have sought me out in the fitting room or he would have waited until I came out. Then again, he could wait right up until I’m about to leave. Less hassle that way.
Damn stupid hormones.
They may have just cost me the one thing I look forward to the most since moving here.
* * *
“You what?” Sidney practically shrieks in my ear.
I’m staring up at my bedroom ceiling, and I wince. “You heard me,” I say miserably. I’d called Sidney the moment I’d come home and gone up to my room. “It’s like all common sense deserted me.”
She snorts. “Now do you understand why I end up having sex even though it’s usually not my intention at the beginning of the night?”
“Yeah.”
“Kris, it was just a onetime thing, right? Tell me you’re not going to start seeing him or something stupid like that.”
I’m caught off guard by the concern in her tone. Sidney is one of those types who rarely has regrets or worries over a decision. She acts first, thinks later. It’s rare for her to even worry about someone else’s decision making. “Why do you ask?” I ask curiously.
“He’s a murder suspect. I told you to get laid, and you did. Now stay away from him.”
“Sid, I don’t think he did it.”
“Think, Krista. You think he’s innocent. What if you’re wrong?”
There’s nothing I can say that would be able to argue her point. The only people that know the truth are Emmaline—who is dead—and Cord.
“Don’t you dare fall for him,” Sidney orders sharply.
“You’re overreacting. He doesn’t even talk to me that much, and he’s only sticking around because of Riley. It was just sex, that’s all. The mood was just weird tonight, and then he caught me in that corset… It happened, and now it’s over.”
“Okay, good,” she says, sounding relieved. “So how was the sex?”
“Really good,” I conf
ess.
“Damn girl. I thought I was the adventurous one, but you’ve got me beat by screwing your boss in a fitting room.”
“Shit,” I say under my breath. I’d forgotten that Cord is technically one of my bosses. I am so relieved that I don’t work until Saturday. That is if I still have a job. I didn’t see Dane on my way out tonight, so there’s still the chance he might pull me aside Saturday and let me go.
“What?” Sidney asks, referring to my curse.
“I forgot that Cord is my boss, too,” I explain.
“Hey, can you snap a picture of him on your phone and send it to me?” she asks hopefully.
“Why?”
“I want to see what this guy looks like. He sounds hot.”
“He is.”
“I want to see for myself.”
“I am not taking a photo of him.” In fact, it might be a good idea if I take a break from him and get my head screwed back on tightly. I seem to lose my head when I’m around him.
Nine
The next day, I spend lunch hour in the library. I feel kind of bad for ditching Cord, but I need to sort things out in my head before I see him again. I really need to get a handle on my attraction for him, because what happened last night can’t happen again.
I’m probably overreacting since Cord made it very clear that what went on in that fitting room was all about sexual gratification and nothing more. I just don’t typically engage in casual sex with guys I barely know, so now it’s a struggle for me to sort out how to act around him when I see him next. I’m sure deliberately ignoring him is probably further complicating the already awkward situation.
Sometimes, I wish I was more like Sidney.
Oddly enough, I manage to get through the entire day without ever crossing paths with Cord. Either I’m really good at this avoidance thing, or he doesn’t want to see me, either. The last thought stings, but I know it’s for the best.
When school lets out for the day, I’m not expecting to find Cord leaning lazily against my car, hands in his jeans pockets, his backpack at his feet. Looks like only one of us was doing the avoiding today, and I am better at it than I thought if it took him until now to track me down.
Is it bad that I am secretly pleased that he’s sought me out?
As I approach him, I ignore the other students watching us curiously and battle back a blush. I don’t think I’ll ever forget what Cord looks like without his shirt or what’s beneath those jeans of his.
Cord’s green eyes lock on mine, and there is not a hint of amusement in his gaze today. “I didn’t take you for the type to run.”
I pause in front of him, taken aback by his comment. “Excuse me?”
His lips tighten. “You once told me that I didn’t scare you. Was that a lie?”
This is not the kind of conversation I’d envisioned we’d be having. I figured he would be the first to initiate a conversation—and I was correct, but I’d assumed he’d avoid the topic of sex or anything serious. He’s always so good at brushing off conversations that are veering off to the more serious side of things.
I step closer to him, frowning. “You don’t scare me. I don’t think you ever have.”
His eyes search mine. “Then why avoid me?”
Well, looks like avoiding the topic is no longer an option. “I had sex with my boss, and my other boss knows it. What part of that isn’t awkward?” I ask dryly.
He looks momentarily confused. “That’s it? You’re embarrassed?”
“Yeah.”
A lazy smile forms across his lips. “You really think we’re the first ones to have sex in the fitting rooms?”
“You mean…? People actually do that?”
“We did,” he points out with a deliberate smirk. “And yes, they do. Watch for the couples that seem overly excited,”
“Good to know.” I study him. “How often do you do what we did?”
A dark brow lifts upward. “Have sex?”
“I meant have sex in the fitting rooms.”
“Only once. With you,” he says simply.
“Really?”
“Yes. I don’t typically mess around at work. I take Cordane’s very seriously.”
“Then why with me?” I can’t resist asking.
Cord looks around, taking in the students that are still lingering in the parking lot. “Are we really going to sort this shit out here?”
“Do you want to go somewhere else?”
His attention shifts back to me, and his eyes search mine. “Would you want to see where Dane and I live?”
There’s no way I am going to turn down the opportunity to have a real conversation with him. “Okay,” I agree.
He immediately reaches for his backpack and then straightens up. “Want to ride with me or follow in your own car?”
“I’ll follow.”
Cord lives on the opposite side of town, and it’s a very rural area. As I follow his van up a narrow driveway, I note that it looks like the Bodine brothers live right next to Elroy Lake. When we approach an old, two-story home, I see that there’s a short trail leading down a sandy incline to where the lake water lazily stirs against the sand. A picnic table that’s seen better days is just below the slope, about five feet from the water.
I climb out of my car and study the glistening lake water. It’s very tranquil here. I’m not quite sure what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t a house by the lake.
Cord walks over. “The lake is what we like best about this place. Dane was going to put in a dock at one point, but then Cordane’s took off and has been keeping both of us busy ever since.”
I glance at him, smiling. “It’s very serene out here. I bet you do a lot of drawing at that picnic table.”
He gives me a genuine smile. “I spend a lot of time down there,” he agrees.
My attention turns to focus on his home, and I gaze up at the two-story structure. There is nothing warm about it, and it looks unappealing. The house structure is simplistic and square-like without any attachments or high points arching upwards. The siding is a dark brown, and there is a sliding glass doorway on the left, then to the right side of the house is a simple, single doorway. Above is an old wooden balcony that spans the top half, giving it at least a little semblance of character, but not much.
Nothing has been said about the Bodine brothers’ parents, so I’d naturally assumed they reside in a bachelor pad. It’s very evident that not much effort has gone into the outside maintenance of this home.
“It’s not much to look at, but you can’t beat the close proximity to the lake,” Cord says lightly.
“I like it. It’s simple but has character,” I tell him, because it does have character—just not the normal kind. It feels sad, kind of lonely to me, but I certainly won’t share that with him.
“Want a tour? It won’t be much of one, but I can still show you around if you want,” he offers.
“I’d like that.”
Cord leads me to the single doorway, and we step inside into a kitchen. The tiling is dark gray, and the walls are white. The cupboards and appliances are also white, and the counter tops are a gray. Dark green curtains add a little color to the dreary kitchen, and a few other green accents are placed here and there. It is definitely a bachelor pad. As my gaze roams over the room, I see an old, wooden dining room table on the other side of the room near the patio doors.
I’m led a few steps towards the living room, and I like how open the first floor is. You can see everything, and the only divider is a huge, brick fireplace in the center of the living room that is attached to the ceiling. A flat-screen TV is secured to the brick wall above the fireplace. Brown couches are situated around the edge of the room, and on the other side, in the corner, is a narrow stairwell that leads up to the second floor.
“Dane has the bedroom upstairs, and mine is in the basement next to our prep room—where we work on some of the projects here at the house.” He turns and leads me to a doorway in the kitchen, and he
opens it. There’s a set of stairs going down into total blackness. Cord flips the switch on the wall next to the door, and the stairwell immediately lights up. “Careful, the stairs are steep,” he warns.
I nod, and we both make our way down the creaking stairwell. When we reach the bottom, Cord turns on another light, and I look around with interest. The room is large, and there’s a lot of equipment and machinery along the edges of the room. There’s a great deal of narrow shelves on the walls containing plenty of horror props. Three tables also take up space in the center of the room, and I can see tools scattered along their surfaces. Two round stands are on one of the tables, and it looks like a plastic covered mannequin head is situated on each one.
“This is where we make masks and prosthetics when we’re not at the warehouse.”
“Do you make stuff all year round or just for Halloween?” I ask curiously.
“All year. I design and sculpt when an idea hits. My room is down here.” He turns and walks down a narrow hallway. We pass what looks like a small bathroom, then Cord walks through an open doorway and turns on a light. Instead of regular light brightening up the darkness, his room glows red.
I stand in the doorway, peering around with interest. The carpet is black, and the walls are the same dark gray that the kitchen is painted. Black curtains cover what looks like a small window, and all the furniture in his room is dark or black. A black comforter adorns his bed, and sewn into it is a large skull design that is grinning evilly. A life-like sculpture of a skull sits on his dresser, and a shelf spans all the way across one wall, hovering about two feet beneath the ceiling. There are at least two dozen scary masks sitting on stands. I recall the rumors about him and Emmaline, and I try not to think about whether or not those are the masks Cord had worn.
“Why red?” I blurt, wanting to distract myself from the thoughts swirling around in my head.
“I just like the way it sets the mood. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I thrive on anything that looks remotely creepy or ominous,” he muses.
WHO KILLED EMMALINE? Page 10
