‘I’d love to stay and chat, but a hot shower and my bed are better company right now,’ she said, tossing her cup in the trash. ‘I’ll see you all tomorrow. Alan, José, be careful tonight.’
To her surprise, Gabe followed her outside. He wrapped a hand around her upper arm, not tightly, but with a caressing motion that she felt through her sweater to her nipples. ‘No,’ he said in a voice that brooked no argument, a voice that sent erotic thrills down her spine. ‘You’re coming back with me.’
12
This time, Felicia got to see the inside of Gabe’s hotel room. To her surprise, it was a full suite, with a canopied king-sized bed, separate sitting area with comfortable chairs and a kitchenette, and what, at her quick glance, looked to be an extra-large bathroom. Everything was in shades of deep burgundy and gold, the bed canopy and swagged curtains a rich brocade. The art on the walls, rather than being generic hotel art, were prints of Italian Renaissance cities.
She commented, and he said, ‘They were overbooked when I got here, so they gave me the honeymoon suite. And, since the Addison Radisson doesn’t seem to be a big draw for honeymooners, they haven’t kicked me out of it yet.’
‘Handy, that,’ she murmured, and was rewarded with another of his smouldering looks.
‘I hadn’t thought of it that way…until now.’
Felicia dropped her bag on the long, low, pale wooden dresser and reached up to release her hair from its ponytail. As her hair tumbled around her face, she choked at the smell. Shit. Literally.
Gabe moved towards her, and she instinctively took a step back.
‘Not changing your mind, are you?’
Good lord, no! If he didn’t touch her soon, she’d implode. But she was still a woman, and vanity held sway. ‘No, no! It’s just –’ Hell. She took a deep breath and plunged in. ‘I haven’t really cleaned up since this afternoon, and I’m – my hair is – kind of, um, smelly.’
His smile was wicked, but she wasn’t prepared for what happened next. He moved faster than she anticipated, and all she could manage was a squeak of aroused surprise when he hoisted her into his arms.
‘That’s easy enough to fix,’ he said. He nuzzled the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder, the rasp of his five o’clock shadow making her catch her breath.
She closed her eyes, swimming on the sensation, and, when he set her down again, they were in the bathroom. He could distract her to the point that she didn’t even know what room she was in. Impressive.
‘I’ve already had fantasies about you in this shower,’ he said between light, nibbling kisses. Then he broke away to turn on the water in the large glass-fronted shower. It was obviously built for two, with a shower head on each side and a tiled seat along one end.
In the time it took for him to adjust the temperature, she’d stripped out of her clothes. When he turned back, she was naked.
His eyes darkened, from slate blue to nearly black. His gaze travelled the length of her, down and then slowly up again, and she shivered, feeling it as keenly as if it were his hands traversing her bare flesh.
‘You,’ he said, ‘are exquisite.’ His gaze never leaving hers, he, too, began to strip.
She played his game, locking eyes with him, exchanging all the lustful thoughts they’d both been thinking over the past week. Only when he was also nude did she break his stare and admire him.
He was just as she’d imagined him that very first day: the dusting of hair on his chest was gold-tipped, mirroring the hair on his head. And his cock. Well. Oh my. Half-hard already, cut, thick at the base and tapering to the smooth mushroom-cap head. All she could think about was having it deep inside her.
After some long, excruciatingly exciting foreplay, that was.
In two steps she was right in front of him, and she could finally indulge in the fantasy she’d had when she first met him. Splaying her fingers, she slowly ran her hands up his chest, through the hair, and tugged gently on it. He didn’t move. He just watched her, waiting to see what she would do next. She brushed her palms over his nipples, and was rewarded by his indrawn breath and the involuntary twitch of his hips. Oh good.
‘I suggest,’ he said, ‘that you get your gorgeous ass into the shower, because in a minute I’m not going to be willing to wait for the shower, and the floor tiles are probably very cold.’
The shower was the perfect temperature and, after the sweaty stinky day and the chilly evening, Felicia couldn’t stifle a moan of pure delight as the hot water cascaded down.
‘Wow, and I’ve barely touched you yet,’ Gabe said, shutting the glass door behind him.
‘You’re that good, obviously,’ Felicia said, pulling him towards her.
Once again, they were pressed against each other, only this time there was no barrier of clothes between them and no frustrating stake-out to get back to. His chest hair grazed her nipples as he moved, running his tongue along her neck to swipe up water. She tossed her head back, letting the shower spray soak her hair and face as if she were under a waterfall. He took that as an invitation to work his way down to her breasts.
Felicia pressed one hand against the shower wall and grabbed a towel bar with the other, not trusting her legs to keep her upright. He pressed her breasts together and suckled both nipples at the same time, grazing the tender areolas with his facial hair. Her skin was so sensitised already that the water running down her body felt as if he touched her everywhere.
Her groping hands found a bar of blue-green soap with a scent like a fresh sea breeze. She lathered up her hands, then rubbed them along his shoulders and back.
In response, he released her breasts and grabbed a bottle of shampoo. ‘Turn around,’ he said.
Before she did, she couldn’t resist running her soapy hands along the length of his now-hard cock, delighting in its weight and heat and the small noises he made.
He lathered up her hair with a shampoo that smelt of citrus and herbs, giving her a scalp massage at the same time, and even that felt damn good. She pressed back against him, and his soapy cock snuggled into the crack of her ass, rubbing against her tailbone. He responded by sliding up and down against her. Abandoning her hair, he reached for her nipples again, pinching and teasing as she ground back against him.
They broke apart long enough for her to rinse her hair before the shampoo dripped into her eyes. By the time she was done, he’d lathered up his hands with the ocean-scented soap and was sliding his hands here, there, everywhere, slipping across her sensitised flesh. Toying with her nipples. Dipping along her ass, teasing just a little farther down. Dropping to his knees, he encircled her legs and massaged them, starting at her ankles and ending at the juncture of her thighs, first one, then the other.
Excruciating. His touch was driving her wild, but he was touching everywhere except where she really wanted him to, where she needed him to.
He stood, just briefly, to unhook one of the shower heads and bring the nozzle back down with him, to sluice the soap off her legs.
Unable to bear it any longer, she rested one foot on the tiled bench, giving him access to her core. He ran a finger lightly over her pussy lips. ‘You’re drenched,’ he said, ‘and not just from the water.’
If he didn’t touch her there soon, she was going to have to take matters into her own hands. She expected his fingers, or perhaps his mouth. She didn’t expect him to raise the nozzle, directing the spray up the inside of her thigh, all the way up until the steady stream of water flowed over her needy clit. Then he adjusted the stream, so it pulsed rhythmically, urging her higher, closer.
Spirals of passion formed in her clit, radiating outwards. So close…
‘Not yet,’ he said, and she would have screamed if he hadn’t added, ‘The first time is on my tongue.’ He dropped the nozzle and found her clit with his mouth, at the same time sliding a finger into her dark wetness. His tongue flicked across her swollen bud, again and again, and then she did scream as the orgasm melted her insides.
He
stood, still keeping his hand against her, the finger inside her and his thumb against her clit urging her to another climax.
She reached blindly for his cock, wanting to return the favour, but he pulled her over to the bench and sat down.
‘Turn around,’ he said again.
She complied, easing her legs apart to straddle him, facing backwards, at the gentle insistence of his hands on her thighs.
‘The very first day I met you, you bent over to pick something up, and all I could think about was doing this,’ he said.
She tried to say ‘yoga’, but all that came out was a strangled gasp as he eased her down along the solid length of him. She guessed what he wanted. She bent forwards at the waist until her palms rested on the shower floor. Despite the yoga classes, she could feel the stretch in her thighs, the slight tension adding its own edge to her arousal.
‘God, you’re so limber,’ he murmured.
Grasping her hips, he guided her up and down again, slowly. When he was buried in her, she couldn’t resist a little hip twitch, grinding down. He groaned her name. Her thighs were still rubbery from the several orgasms, but she did her best, rising and falling on his cock, revelling in the sensation as she moved over it. One of his hands reached around, applying just the right amount of pressure to her clit.
‘What an incredible view,’ he panted. ‘You have a stunning ass. I can see your pussy lips dragging along my penis, then swallowing me back inside. My God, Felicia.’
She barely heard him. Her head swam, not just from her upside-down position, but also from the rumbling approach of another orgasm from deep inside her. As relentless as a bullet train, it loomed, advancing, until she cried out again, grinding and bucking against the length of him inside her. A moment later, she felt him achieve his release.
He helped her up and they caught their breath, surrounded by the steam and pounding water. They spent a few minutes cleaning up again, and then patted each other dry with fluffy white towels, paying special attention to the most sensitive areas.
After leaving the towels on the bathroom floor, they collapsed on the bed.
‘Hungry?’ Gabe asked.
‘Good lord, no, not after that Mexican food.’
‘Thirsty?’
‘What’ve you got?’ she said.
He got up and opened the mini-fridge. ‘Champagne,’ he said, holding up a split bottle.
‘Sold.’
They clinked glasses before drinking. ‘Here’s to a successful night of skulking,’ Gabe said.
Felicia allowed herself a moment to savour the delicious bubbles. ‘It certainly was an adventure.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘How did you get into the Sanctuary, anyway?’
She wanted to be stern, wanted to be concerned, but his cheeky grin stripped away her reserve.
‘I picked the lock on the service entrance door,’ he admitted. ‘A skill retained from my ill-spent youth. I did lock it behind me, though.’
The earnestness of his statement made her laugh. ‘Did you know that Lance was planning something?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘I suspected something might happen, but I didn’t know who. Just figured I’d be there to find out. What about you?’
‘Same thing. We knew Alan needed back-up, but we couldn’t afford to hire anyone, so José, Mel and I decided to stay on site and help.’
‘Did you think I was involved?’
His quiet but direct question gave her pause. But she believed in ruthless truthfulness, and now was probably the best time to lay it all out. ‘You were on my list,’ she said. ‘Things started happening just around the time you showed up.’
‘Tell me everything that’s happened that’s been suspicious,’ he said.
Naked, he walked across the room and grabbed his laptop. She lounged on the bed and ogled his butt, not even processing his question until he was back on the bed and the laptop was open.
She listed everything she could think of, from the ocelot cage being left open to the sewage leak to the vandalism, throwing in a few things that might or might not have been involved, such as the mysterious sprinkler problems.
‘So much of it could have other explanations,’ she said, running a frustrated hand through her half-dry hair. ‘We had a passel of kids on site when the fire alarm went off. The sprinklers were just old. The sewage leak – well, there were kids on site that day too.’
‘Anything else suspicious besides things breaking or going wrong?’
‘Well, the donors have been kind of flaky recently; it’s been an uphill battle to sell tickets to the fundraiser or get donations. But they could be reacting to what’s been going wrong.’
‘I thought you were trying to keep everything under wraps,’ he pointed out.
‘As much as we can, yes.’ She sighed. ‘Word still leaks out – the press catches wind of things here and there. Rumours start. It doesn’t have to be anything specific. People sometimes just pick up on the vibes.’
‘Now that sounds Californian, sweetheart,’ he teased. ‘Gonna read my aura next?’
Felicia had the pillow in her hand before he could react, smacking him on the head. He looked affronted. Carefully, he closed the laptop and set it on the night table. She was just starting to wonder if she’d over-stepped her bounds when a pillow that had fallen off the bed at some point came flying at her.
She shrieked and pummelled him again, and he caught her arm, and they tussled. Very quickly, however, the tussling turned to a different kind of play and, very soon after that, her shrieks turned into cries of passion.
* * *
Alan set down his coffee cup, sighed like the weight of the world (or at least SCCS) was on his shoulders and said, ‘Time to do another round. See you all later.’ The vet-clinic door clanged heavily shut behind him.
‘I’ll do a round in this area in a minute,’ José said.
Once the ex-cop was gone, he glanced at Mel. ‘Hey, do you want to walk with me?’ he asked in a tone of voice that, to Mel, clearly translated as: ‘Hey, do you want to see if we can find a little privacy?’
She managed a tired ghost of a smile. ‘I’m pretty beat. I’ll see you tomorrow. Or later today – I’m pretty sure it’s after midnight.’
To her own ears, her voice sounded a little strained from the effort of not sounding unreasonably pissy, but apparently José didn’t notice. The vet just shrugged and said, ‘Good night, Mel. Lance.’ Then he wandered off.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Mel snorted, half in amusement, half in annoyance. ‘That arrogant…’ Mel glanced over at Lance, then switched to Vietnamese to add a few more choice adjectives. She knew she was overreacting, but the outburst seemed to relieve tension that had as much to do with all the evening’s crazy events as with José. She cut herself off when she realised Lance was laughing hysterically. ‘You speak Vietnamese?’
‘Didn’t need to. Some things sound the same in any language.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t worry about him. I thought you were great out there. Girls who kick ass are hot.’
Normally, Mel wasn’t crazy about being called a girl, but the compliment made her smile. ‘Thank you, Lance. You were very brave yourself.’
He shrugged and looked away. ‘You do what you gotta do. Besides, I ain’t scared of Caramel. I feed her, so she likes me.’
‘I meant telling us about your friends. That took guts.’
He shrugged again and took a great interest in the cracked vinyl flooring, or maybe his sneakers.
Of course this wasn’t easy for him, Mel realised. By choosing to side with the Sanctuary, he’d turned his back on his earlier life completely. It was easy to say, from the outside, that he’d made the right decision. But part of him must be wondering if he had. She wanted him to know he had other friends. Real, solid friends. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘That coffee was pretty crap. Want to come back to my place for a real cup, and hang out for a bit?’
13
Any doubts Mel still harboured were dispelled when Lance
met her pets. Phu Dog greeted him like a long-lost best friend, but that was nothing unusual. Everybody in Phu Dog’s reality was his best friend ever. More importantly, while Lance was still cross-legged on the battered hardwood floor of the living room making friends and laughing over the curious appearance of a golden retriever/corgi cross, Gypsy crept out from under the futon couch.
The little grey tabby had come from an animal shelter, where she’d arrived with injuries consistent with having been kicked by someone large. The only other male visitor she’d reveal herself to at all was José, and she wouldn’t get too close.
She slunk up towards Lance, but held back until he noticed her, said, ‘Hi, little girl,’ and held out his hand. One moment Gypsy was performing the curious-but-aloof-cat dance, the next she’d crawled into Lance’s lap, purring.
Her heart melting, Mel tiptoed away to make the coffee.
When she returned, she set the lacquered tray on the low table in front of the sofa. He gently removed Gypsy from his lap and stood. As he shucked off his hoodie, he winced, and Mel was horrified to see a rusty smear on the back of his T-shirt. ‘What happened?’
He twisted around to look over his shoulder. ‘Oh, that. Happened when I got caught on the wall. It’s nothin’.’
She heard the studied nonchalance in his voice, but his wince had already betrayed him. ‘Let me get some hydrogen peroxide so we can get that cleaned up.’
When she re-entered the living room, she nearly dropped her First Aid kit. He’d stripped off the T-shirt. She’d expected a few tattoos, so the barbed wire around both biceps came as no surprise. The elaborate dragon whose head sent flames flickering around his left nipple and whose body trailed down his muscular chest and ripped belly, with the tail dipping under his trousers, on the other hand, was rather more than she’d expected.
‘That’s, uh, beautiful,’ she managed.
Cat Scratch Fever Page 14
