Killing Bliss

by EC Sheedy

  When Cade located a working part of his brain, he reached for her hands, took them in his. "You sure about this?"

  "I'm sure, but"—she swallowed—"you'll have to do all the work."

  He kissed her palm. "Sweetheart, making love to you will be about as far from 'work' as I can imagine." Although there was a problem. Addy was virtually a virgin, and he hadn't made love since before Dana died, which could be a challenge to his long-ignored libido.

  Handle it, Harding. You're thirty-eight years old, long past the Neanderthal age. His next thought was protection. He didn't have any, and the chance of Addy being on the pill was less than zero. He must have frowned, because she pulled her hand back and straightened away from him.

  "You're thinking about your wife, aren't you?" She looked hesitant. "That maybe this isn't a good idea."

  He pushed himself up. "Yes, and no." He undid the top few buttons on her shirt, ran a finger from her neck to the top of her cleavage, then took her by the shoulders, and pulled her toward him. If he didn't taste her mouth—now.—he'd damn well implode. Condom or no condom, tonight he'd make love to her. He'd just have to be creative. Leaving him with one caveat to put on the table—or bed, as the case may be.

  He brushed his mouth across hers, felt the purr of her breath across his cheek when he pulled back. Hard and too damn ready, he looked her in the eyes. "I'm going to go as slow as I can, but it's been a very long time for me. You understand what that means, don't you?"

  Her expression book-learnin' serious, she nodded. "It means you'll want to go inside in a big rush." It didn't look as if the idea pleased her. "I guess that'll be okay."

  "No, it won't be okay. That's never okay, unless a woman wants it that way."

  "Do they ever?" She looked skeptical.

  Definitely virginal. He smiled. "Yeah, sometimes they do." He cocked his head. "Now, come here, and let me undress you. I want to see you. All of you."

  Her hands flew to her buttons. "I'll do it."

  "Uh-uh. That's my job."

  She dropped her hands, swallowed. "Okay."

  He undid the last few buttons on her white shirt and pushed it off her shoulders, exposing a cotton bra with a front closure. He opened its clasp, and his breath, already ragged, stopped in his throat.

  Hell, he didn't know why she even bothered with the bra. Her breasts were high, full, and perfect. "You're beautiful." And the night ahead, the control required, was beginning to look more like work every minute. He lifted his eyes to look at her face.

  She had her eyelids clenched tight.

  Okay, the lady's nervous, maybe even scared.

  He knew his way around that.

  He traced one plump breast with his index finger, chose a nipple, and rolled it gently between his thumb and forefinger. When it hardened into a tight, willing nub, he leaned forward and licked it, determinedly ignoring the clamor behind his own zipper. Time enough for that, and the longer his cock stayed behind metal, the better. Even the thought of its release, the jut of it rubbing against soft flesh after so long, made his blood pound. He gripped Addy at the waist, licked her other nipple and drew it fully into his mouth, used his tongue to lash, taste, and savor.

  "Oh, God." She plunged her fingers into his hair, and pulled him closer.

  He suckled her, deeply, lightly, deeply again, then took the nipple between his teeth to nibble and tease. His own blood crashing in his ears, he lifted his head. This time their gazes met and locked. "You taste like heaven."

  "Then there's no oxygen there, because I, uh, can't breathe."

  "You don't have to breathe." He popped the top button on her jeans, unzipped her. "Lie back," he instructed. She did what he asked, and he pulled off the denim, then her plain cotton panties. When he went to work on his own shirt buttons, she watched his every move.

  When he didn't do a damn thing about removing his jeans, she reached for his zipper. "Later," he said, and leaned over her. "Right now, all I want to do is kiss you. All over. Starting here." He took her mouth, and she gave it willingly.

  A loser in bed? No way.

  He kissed her deeply, and their tongues circled and searched, tasted each other, instantly demanded more. He slid down, nuzzled her nipple, the tight bud of it sweet and hard against his lips, came back up to her mouth.

  Addy moaned, her body jerking as if she didn't know what to do with it, her hands scrabbling over his back, one moment uncertain, then sliding surely inside his jeans to claw at his bare buttocks.

  A sheen of perspiration bonded their bodies like shimmering glue, and Cade pulled back, desperate to fill his lungs with air, with control. "You're killing me. This is killing me," he murmured. "You're too hot. Too soon."

  "I, uh... am." She spoke as if she didn't believe her own words.

  He looked at her wide, shocked eyes, the mad spiked hair, then down to where moisture gilded her pubis, and shook his head, tried to rattle some willpower into place.

  He knelt between her legs, braced himself over her, and kissed her mouth, her neck, her shoulders, each breast in turn, her navel...

  Aroused to insanity, he moved his head lower, crazed by the scent of her, the wildness that simmered under her skin, the soft moans now coming from over his head.

  He cupped her boldly, opened her to stroke her clitoris, play in the wet, sweet rush that his probing caused. She was wonderful. And he was dying. Hard to the point of breaking, so focused, he couldn't think past the open, willing body under him.

  "Spread your legs." His voice sounded husky, ragged in his ears.

  She did what he asked.

  "Wider, sweetheart, wider." When she complied, he bent his head to her pubis, took the engorged nub deep, and caressed her with his tongue.

  Every muscle in his body taut to restrain his own release, he gave her a long deep stroke, another... until she squirmed under his tongue. Lifted toward his mouth.

  "That's it," he murmured into her flesh. "Let it go. It's beautiful. Let it go." She bucked high, and he held her to him.

  He heard a long aching moan, and a prayer. "Oh, God. Oh, God."

  She collapsed back onto his bed, her breathing a series of gusts and gasps. His own breath the same, he raised himself, took his weight on his forearms and looked down at her, wanting to see her eyes, what was in them.

  But before she opened them, she moaned again.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  Her eyes opened, all shadowy and sated. She touched his face. "I'm way beyond okay. That was like... like being a kite in a hurricane." She stretched then, a movement that brought her lower body into close contact with his penis, which in its current state was hard enough to cut diamonds.

  He rolled himself to her side and focused on the unlit overhead light fixture. As a distraction, it was a bust. Damn, he hurt.

  She sat up immediately. "You didn't... I mean you're still—"

  "Ready, willing, and able? Yeah." He covered his eyes with an arm, tried some deep breathing.

  "I don't get it."

  "No condoms. And I didn't figure you'd be on the pill." He had to grind the words out, because the breathing thing wasn't going too well.

  "I'm not."

  He closed his eyes, nodded from under his arm.

  "It's all right." He felt the bed move, but ignored it, kept his eyes closed. For sure, opening them to see a naked Addy wouldn't be a good idea.

  But they popped open real quick when his zipper went down. "Jesus, what are you doing?"

  She put her hand inside his pants, felt him through his shorts. He groaned, sucked in his gut.

  "What do you think I'm doing?" She bent her head, kissed him slowly and rubbed his hard, aching cock. When she raised her head, she smiled down at him. It wasn't the smile of a reticent girl, it was the seductive, teasing smile of a woman with sex on her mind and in her eyes.

  "I don't think—"

  She put a finger across his lips and shook her head.

  Cade shut up.

  She tugged at
his jeans and briefs. Not with a lot of finesse, he noted, but those strong arms of hers were efficient.

  When she circled him with her fingers, his head fell back against the pillow as if he'd been slugged. His body thrummed, ached to go with the flow, let Addy give him—

  Too much, too soon.

  He rallied himself, covered her hand with his. "Addy," he ground out, "you don't know what you're doing."

  "Did I hurt you, hold too tight?"

  "No, it's not that, but making a man come... like that is a bit... advanced."

  "Well then, Professor Harding, you'll be glad to know I'm a graduate of late-night TV."

  * * *

  Addy woke to a blaze of morning sun, Cade's leanly muscled body pressed to her back, his arm resting across her waist. She closed her eyes against the light, and snuggled deeper into the pillow.

  Last night played in her mind like a badly edited movie, all shaky camera shots, stops and starts, blur and focus—a crazy mind-bending swirl of hot images and even hotter bodies. She'd never have believed she'd do what she'd done, take what she'd taken, give what she'd given. And, with Cade, she'd do it all again—and again—in a heartbeat.

  She pulled his hand to her naked tummy, held it there, and wiggled her behind into his groin. He hardened against her buttocks. She grinned. The man had to be on autopilot, because he didn't wake up, just pulled her closer and slept on. His breath ruffled her hair, sending a sultry breeze through the sensual fog she'd woken in. Eyes still tightly closed against the morning, she worked herself closer to his long, hard body, now so relaxed against her own. It hadn't been relaxed last night.

  He was like her lake, she thought, wildly frenzied by a sudden wind, then growing calm and warm under a lazy-making sun.

  A smile, one she couldn't have stopped if she tried, played across her mouth. Her body hummed in a kind of peace, all languid and honeylike. She was happy.

  Happy. Happy. Happy.

  More herself than she'd been in days. She'd heard about sexual afterglow, but she'd never experienced it. Never experienced fore-glow either—she smiled wider—until Cade.

  Thank you, thank you, whoever up there is in charge of the Department of Earthly Delights.

  Yes, they'd handed her a sexual master. If she could, she'd tie him to the bed, lock him in Cabin Six, and keep him forever—just for fun and games. And every day after they'd had wild and crazy sex, he'd teach her to read.

  She stretched, opened her eyes.

  A shadow moved across the carpet, and she watched it idly, until her chest constricted on an indrawn breath.

  No.

  She didn't want to think, didn't want to move from the cocoon of warmth and denial she'd been in since last night. Since Cade took her body and made it reach and fly.

  And he'd listened to her, so intently, those calm eyes of his remaining level and without judgment. He'd believed her—or at least said he did. But when he knew what she wanted from him, what then?

  Oh, yeah, Addy the problem solver, what then?

  She had no idea.

  What she knew for certain was that if Gus and Beauty refused to listen to reason, she needed something stronger, a serious threat.

  Cade was that threat.

  Not that he was a sure thing. If he refused to go along with her plan, insisted on calling the police immediately...

  Fear snaked up her throat; she swallowed it. She couldn't afford fear. She had one goal, to keep Beauty and Gus safe—which meant stopping them from killing Bliss.

  The shadow crept relentlessly across the floor, darkened the base of the fridge at the far end of the room, edged upward to dim the shine on the maple cupboards above the sink, then slowly spread the weight of its gloom over the lightness in her heart.

  Behind her, she heard a grumbled moan, and the hand she'd taken to her midriff moved up to cup a breast, toy with her nipple. "M-m-m. Nice."

  Her breath caught and the sensual fog drifted, fell like a cloak over her worries, her dread.

  He'd give her more, do to her what he'd done last night. Touch her in that way he did. Take her away. His hand slid across her tummy, down, until his fingers combed through her curls, stroked her, caressed her. She closed her eyes, began to dance to the magic in his hands.

  "No."

  Brain engaged, she stumbled out of bed, eyes wide and dry, chest heaving, body tight and hungry. She ignored it all. She stared down at Cade; his heavy dark hair looked as if she'd cut it herself, all rumpled and spiky. His eyes fixed on her, confused and not quite awake. The sheet covering his lower body didn't cover what she'd just said no to.

  "We have to talk," she blurted, feeling the flush of their morning encounter on her face, like a hot, damp, very red towel. Half crazy with wanting sex and wanting safety for her friends, she said, "I have things to say. Things that need to be said, before... before anything."

  "Good morning to you, too." He finger-combed his hair and leaned back against the headboard. "Talk wasn't how I planned to start the day, but what the hell." He sat up and set those terrible, beautiful eyes of his on her as if she were sin and he were a devil in training. Her stomach did a drop and roll. Did another when his gaze traveled lazily over her naked body, from bed-head to un-painted toenails.

  Oh, lord, this is so wrong.

  A woman needed to be on her toes if she were to hold her own under those damn green eyes of his. And there wasn't much chance of getting the upper hand when the scent of sex in the room was so strong it was as if it had been sprayed—for about an hour.—out of one of those atomizer things.

  "I'm going to take a shower," she said, deciding on a mini-retreat to get her act together. But when she bent to gather up her clothes, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her to the rumpled bed.

  "Not before I do this." He kissed her forehead, her face, under her ear, ran a hand down her back and over her naked butt in a long possessive caress. "Thank you, Addy," he murmured close to her ear. "Last night was spectacular." He let her go.

  "Ditto," she said, and jumped to her feet before she weakened—or did that tying-him-to-the-bed routine.

  "Ditto?" he echoed. He raised his brows, a smile and a frown dueling across his morning-stubbled face. "That's it? Ditto?"

  "It was good... okay? But until we finish what we started last night—"

  "I thought we finished damn well."

  "You know what I mean." She pulled her mouth into a serious line, ignored the heated blush searing up from her collarbone.

  He looked as though he were going to argue, nodded instead, his face tightening to acceptance and at the same time reluctant. "Yes, I know what you mean." He gestured toward the bathroom. "Go take your shower." He got up and slid into his jeans—no briefs. "I'll give Redge a quick morning bathroom break, then I'll have mine." He pulled a shirt on, called Redge from his corner behind the kitchen counter, and headed for the door. "Then, Mizz Wartenski, we can talk all you like."

  He walked out without another word.

  Chapter 17

  Fifteen minutes later, Addy, showered, dressed, and hot coffee in hand, watched him come up the cabin path, and her stomach instantly filled with butterflies and leftover desire. Her heart felt like a rose pressed in a Bible. That scared her more than anything. This wasn't the time for hearts or flowers.

  Dear God, tell me I'm not stupid enough to fall for the first man who gives me an orgasm.

  God must have been busy, because he didn't answer. She blew out a noisy breath, took a long swig of too-hot coffee, and walked away from the window to sit at the table.

  Cade came in, Redge at his heels. "Hey," he said, and smiled.

  He did that a lot, she noticed, and his smiles always had that just-for-you quality that made the hair on the back of her neck ruffle. "Hey back," she said, and drank some coffee to douse the stars she knew were in her eyes. "I made coffee."

  "My kind of woman, but I'll have that shower first. Keep it hot."

  Five minutes later, he stepped into the room toweli
ng his dark hair. He wore jeans, a blue shirt, unbuttoned, and he hadn't shaved. He made Addy's mouth water, but didn't take her off course.

  He poured himself a cup of coffee, sat across the table from her, and calmly leveled those unnervingly intelligent eyes on her. "Chapter Two. Let's hear it," he said.

  "I think, if it's okay with you, I'll start with the favor I want from you. Work back from there."

  "Fair enough."

  "I have some, uh, friends coming to Star Lake. They'll be here in a day or so."

  "Uh-huh."

  She took a breath, ignored the boulder of conscience rolling through the thickness in her chest. "It's Beauty and Gus."

  Cade's brows shot up, and he set his coffee on the table. Frowning, he said, "Let me get this straight. Last night you told me you hadn't seen either Gus or Beauty since the murder, and now they're dropping in for a summer vacation?"

  "Not a vacation, exactly. And not exactly dropping in." She took a deep breath, reached across the table and took his hand, gripped it tight "They're coming here to kill Frank Bliss, and I want you—need you—to help me stop them."

  * * *

  At Sea-Tac, Grover waited nervously for Bliss near the bookstore on the main concourse, not sure he'd recognize him after the years he'd spent in jail.

  Everything that had gone wrong in his life was this man's fault. Everything. If Frank Bliss hadn't called Sandra that day, told her Grover was "humping his prostitute mother and had the state paying for it," things would be different. Belle might still be alive, and Josh would be in the loving care of his grandmother.

  Grover tried to forget, control the twisted needs that had once made him betray everything he believed in, but Bliss wouldn't let him.

  The weight of him, what he knew, circled Grover's neck like a mile of spiked iron chains. Having Bliss in your life was like dying slowly, a drop of blood at a time.