by Nina Bruhns
She was so soft and sweet. Perfect. He nibbled her lower lip.
He’d been an idiot. All this time he’d thought he was some hot stud jock, but he’d just been an idiot without her. Everything he’d thought he knew about women was wrong. Nothing from his past could compare with this feeling.
He tasted her upper lip, slowly, softly. Not to show that he could go slow and show off his football player stamina, but because he didn’t want this moment to end, ever.
He kissed the tip of her nose, her eyes, one after the other, her brows, then back to her lips again. He missed them already.
She pressed her lips against his, her hands came down from around his neck and tugged his shirt out of his jeans. Her slim fingers slipped under the material and splayed across his skin, sending more heat through his body.
He didn’t dare touch her tank top, didn’t dare touch her skin to skin, not yet. He kept kissing her, drinking in her sweetness, trying to settle his brain.
Then she opened up for him, and he was lost instantly. He explored her little by little, tongue to tongue, lip to lip, a sweet, slow dance of desire that brought his blood to the boiling point.
Her hands moved up his chest, her fingertips brushing across his nipples and making his cock jerk. He put his hands over hers and held them in place until she looked up to meet his eyes. “I want you. You matter to me.”
She searched his gaze. Then a smile that nearly stopped his heart stretched her lips for half a second before she raised her lips back to his.
The kiss changed tone, gathered steam. When a throaty moan escaped her, he lost some of his hesitancy, and all his need poured into the kiss.
Their lips separated only long enough for him to pull the tank top over her head. She was pushing his shirt off his shoulders. Then they were skin to skin, her pebbled nipples dragging against his chest as she moved against him.
He could lose it, he thought, before he ever got his pants off, an embarrassment that hadn’t happened to him since he’d been fourteen.
He picked her up and carried her to the couch, sat her on the wide arm. He bent to kiss his way down her chin, her neck, kissing, licking, sucking each nipple in turn as she let her head fall back, her hair cascading to her waist.
His fingers fumbled with her pants, pushed them down. He kissed his way down her belly while she kicked those pants away. Then he was on his knees in front of her, eye-to-eye with a lacy scrap of fabric that was so pretty he kissed her right through it.
Then that was no longer enough, so he tugged her panties off, needing to have his lips on her skin. His hands moved up to cup her from behind and settle her against his mouth. As he kissed his way up and down her seam, she braced herself on his shoulders.
“Joe.” Her single whispered word dripped with urgent desire.
He drew back a couple of inches and blew on her damp curls to further fan the flames.
* * *
He was mad at her for her calling him a jock all those times, so he was going to torture her to death. There was no other explanation for why he was going so agonizingly slowly.
Wendy dug her fingers into his skin as he licked her agonizing inch by inch. Her knees trembled.
“Lean back,” he said.
She braced herself on the couch cushion behind her, her feet coming off the ground. He was reaching for her ankles already, hooking her legs over his shoulders as he knelt in front of her.
The whole move took maybe three seconds, then his lips were back on her, his hot tongue parting her folds.
He explored her as thoroughly as if he were conducting a police investigation. He used his left hand to hold her open to him while he tortured her with his tongue. She was ready to explode into pieces even before he inserted two long fingers inside her and started to massage the back side of her clit from the inside.
She called his name as her body convulsed with pleasure, sweet fulfillment spreading through her.
He picked her up, laid her down on the couch, then stripped naked and took care of protection before stretching out next to her. They lay side by side, facing each other. He reached down and hooked her leg over his hip, opening her to him. Then, with endless gentleness, he eased inside her a fraction of an inch at a time, kissing and caressing her.
She thought she’d die of pleasure by the time he fully filled her. Then he shifted her, rose over her. He made love to her with such care and gentleness, it completely disarmed her. But when she felt her body reaching toward the peak again, he shifted their position once more, putting her on top.
“Ride me.”
The urgent whisper, raspy with undisguised need, was her undoing.
He held her hips in his large hands and positioned her over his hard cock, the swollen head just touching her wet opening. She lowered herself a sliver, just to take that head in. Dark fires burned in his gaze.
“More.” He wasn’t ordering. He was begging.
He was letting her have control. All control. That couldn’t be easy for him. He was a cop, used to being in charge. But somehow he knew this was what she needed to feel completely safe.
Experimentally, she pulled up until they were barely touching.
He groaned, but he didn’t force her back down, he didn’t shove up to surge into her. He waited, letting her decide what she was and wasn’t willing to give.
And she discovered that she was willing to give pretty much everything.
Slowly, slowly she lowered herself, letting him fill her, stretch her, inch by hard inch. And when she thought she couldn’t take more, she ground herself against him.
His back arched. His long fingers tightened on her hips. She was in control and she liked it.
He responded to her every move, caressed her hips, her buttocks, then reached up to her breasts as she leaned forward. His fingers worked miracles, teasing her nipples into aching, throbbing buds.
Then his hand moved back lower, parted her flesh again. He touched her so gently, so reverently, as if she were likely to break. That tenderness reached her as nothing else could have.
His caressing hands never left her for a second as she began moving faster, her back arching, her head falling back. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she flew into a million little pieces, at the same time as he pushed deeper yet and groaned his release, pulsating inside her.
When they could both breathe again, he tugged her down on top of him and embraced her, her head tucked into the crook of his neck. Their hearts beat next to each other, their breathing synchronizing.
“Shower?” he asked a while later when their bodies began to cool.
“When I can move.”
He carried her to the downstairs bathroom that had a shower unit tucked into the corner, turned on the water, and didn’t set her down until they were under the spray.
They soaped and washed each other, each movement filled with intimacy and caring. She could no longer deny the connection between them, or the fact that he’d gotten to her somehow, had breached all her defenses.
After they dried and dressed, he took her by the hand. “Stay down here with me?”
She nodded.
They settled on the sofa, her head on his shoulder, his arms around her. He pulled a blanket over them, enclosing them in a cocoon of warmth. She felt content and safe with him.
Which he ruined by saying, “Marry me.”
Her head snapped up. “What?”
“Marry me.”
“I can’t.” She shook her head, bewildered.
“Why?”
Because she didn’t want to give herself into a man’s control. She didn’t want to be so-and-so’s wife. She didn’t want a husband making decisions for her, controlling her finances, deciding what she could and couldn’t do. She didn’t think she could ever trust anyone that much. “I just can’t.”
He didn’t get angry at the rejection.
“I’m not going to marry you, Joe,” she repeated, to make sure he understood.
“That’s what you
said about sleeping with me,” he said, and took her lips in a soft kiss.
Deathblow: Chapter Twenty-One
While Wendy scheduled a sweet sixteen birthday party photo assignment the next morning, Joe was following up on leads. The shootout in the diner’s parking lot was all over the news, Keith’s photo and a picture of the van he drove plastered next to every newscaster. Calls were pouring in, people reporting when and where they might have seen him. Ninety-nine percent of those calls wouldn’t amount to anything, but Joe was determined to find something that would lead him to Keith.
He stayed home, working from his kitchen table through the morning while Wendy worked on her new business and took care of Justin. They had lunch together, then Justin went down for a nap.
Joe waited for her at the bottom of the stairs and pulled her into his arms. “I’ve wanted to do this all morning.”
He kissed her.
Okay, he wanted to do more than this all morning. But if a hot kiss was all they could have at the moment, he would take it. He kissed her until her arms went around his neck, until she clung to him, before he let her go.
She gave him a dreamy smile. “I’m still not going to marry you.”
“But you’ll move in with me permanently?”
“I’m my own person. I have my own place.”
“You could think of this place as your own. We’ll put your name on a couple of rooms.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess, the kitchen and the laundry room?”
“If you want to be the boss in the bedroom, just say it.” He coughed. “Dominatrix.” Coughed again.
That got her laughing. Which was good. He wanted to give her some lightness in the middle of all this mess.
He moved to kiss her again, but his laptop pinged. “I better check on that.”
She nodded and walked away from him, back to her own work.
Joe opened another e-mail from Leila, notes and contact info from calls that had come in on the hotline, people who thought they might have seen Keith or the van. Joe started down the list and worked on callbacks for the next two hours without break, until Wendy padded back to the kitchen.
“I have an idea.”
His gaze dipped to her perfect breasts. “Does it involve us being naked?”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She shook her head, smiling, but then the smile disappeared from her face as she said, “I have an idea for catching Keith.”
His X-rated thoughts evaporated. “No.”
“You don’t even know what I want to say.”
“We’re not using you as bait.”
She stood there all solemn and determined, sticking her chin out. “This is my problem. My life. My son’s life. I want to be the one making the decisions that affect my family.”
Oh hell, she was right. “It’d better be a hell of a plan.”
“We’ll make it work.”
He watched her for a few seconds, the confident tilt of her chin. “I have to say, I like the new, strong, sexy-chick thing you have going.” And then he kissed her to prove it.
* * *
Keith sat in the beach house, alone in the cold. The damned place had no heat, and with the wind coming off the ocean, early May still had plenty of chill in it. He’d bought an electric heater at the nearest department store, but it did little to warm up the living room that stood open to the kitchen and the stairs that sucked all the heat up to the second floor. He didn’t want to go back for a bigger unit. The shooting, along with his name and description, was all over the radio. He’d heard it in the car. It was probably all over TV too. He didn’t want anyone to recognize him.
Rage held his muscles rigid.
Wendy had betrayed him.
She’d betrayed him to her bastard cop.
Keith shifted on his seat. She’d had her chance. He’d offered to forgive her everything, had offered a way for the two of them to be together. Stupid bitch didn’t get it.
He couldn’t stand the thought of her with the cop. Picturing another man’s hands on her pumped his blood pressure so high, he felt dizzy.
If he couldn’t have her, nobody could. He knew where they lived.
Keith spat on the heater and watched the saliva sizzle. His woman and kid inside that cop’s house. It wasn’t right. They were all over there like some goddamn happy family while he was sitting here, freezing his ass off. They had everything; he had nothing. It wasn’t fair.
Joe Kessler needed to be taught not to go after another man’s woman. And Wendy needed to be taught not to be a whoring bitch.
Keith shut off the heater and stood, then strode out of the drafty summer house. He had the black van parked behind the house, with a new license plate. He’d switched plates with a pickup in a mall parking lot earlier.
He opened the back of the van, looked at the row of five-gallon cans filled with gasoline. He closed the door, then patted his pocket. He had plenty of matches.
* * *
“I’m sorry,” Wendy whispered into the cell as she stood in Joe’s kitchen. “The police made me do it. I didn’t trick you, I swear. They knew I was going to meet you at the diner. They probably tapped the phone.”
“Maybe they’re listening now,” Keith snapped on the other end.
“I’m on Joe’s cell phone. He’s in the shower.” She was relieved Keith had picked up at last. She’d been trying for hours, but kept receiving messages that the number she dialed wasn’t accepting calls at the moment.
Long seconds of silence passed on the other end before Keith said, “You need to get away from those people.”
“Yes.”
“You need to meet me.”
“Where? I can get out after Joe goes to sleep.”
“You can’t trust anyone but me.”
“I know.”
“I’m the only one who cares about you and Justin. We need to be together again.”
“I want that.”
“Then you’ll bring Justin?”
That was a trick question. Keith knew she wouldn’t leave without her son. If she said she was going alone, he would know that she was lying. “I’m bringing Justin. I’ll bundle him up in the car. He probably won’t even wake up.”
“All right. I want you to drive south on Route 1. Take the Oxford exit. Pull over at the end of the off-ramp. How fast can you get there?”
“In another hour?” She wanted to give the police enough time to set up a trap. “Joe will probably head off to sleep once he gets out of the bathroom. He looked pretty beat.”
“This time, be there,” Keith said, and then the line went dead.
Joe was standing next to her. She passed him back the phone he’d given her. He made a call, listened. “Okay. Thanks.”
He put the phone away, a grim expression on his face. “The paint on the murder weapon in the Brogevich case is a perfect match to the paint in the hallway in your apartment building. Keith is officially wanted for murder.”
A cold shiver ran down her spine.
Joe kissed her eyebrow. “The tracking worked on the call. His cell was activated in Philadelphia. As soon as the call ended, he went off-line again.”
“How does he do that?”
“Takes the battery out. Looks like he knows that cell phones can be tracked even when they’re powered off. They’re not really powered off. If they were, the phone would lose track of time and other things. When you power off, the screen is powered off. But the phone still checks in with the nearest tower periodically. That can be tracked.”
“What do we do now?” She rubbed her hands together, her fingertips icy cold.
He took her hands and warmed them inside his. “You relax. I’ll set up everything.”
He kissed her on the lips this time, then went to work on that.
She fed Justin dinner, then called Sophie and asked if she could come over to watch him for a couple of hours. Putting Keith behind bars was t
he right thing to do. No matter what happened tonight, he would be out of their lives. She left Justin with his cheesy macaroni, then ran upstairs and grabbed some towels from the bathroom.
She rolled them up on her way back down the stairs and put Justin’s red coat on the roll, zipped up in the front. She tugged Justin’s hat over the end that hung out on top. Then she took her gun from the top of the fridge, slipped it into the car seat, placed the towel-roll kid on top, and strapped it in.
“Looking good,” Joe said as he came up behind her. “Everybody is getting into position. I called Amber. She’s coming over with Max. Jack is bringing Ashley and Maddie over, and he’ll stick around, hang out with the women and the kids.” He pulled her into his arms. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes. I have to. I need to end this.”
Sophie arrived first, with Peaches, which delighted Justin no end but made Pirate Prince shoot out the back door with an irritated hiss. Then Jack came with Ashley and seven-year-old Maddie. Amber popped in last, Max wide-eyed with excitement at the idea of a party.
And as Wendy stood in the middle of the small crowd, she couldn’t believe that everybody was here for her. She wasn’t alone. She was never going to be alone again. Her eyes misted as the women moved in for hugs and wished her safety, promising to watch over Justin.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Sophie said. “I’d be too chicken.”
Amber nodded. “Knock him dead.”
Wendy kissed Justin good night, a little longer than usual, then hurried to Joe, who was waiting for her by the front door. He had a bulletproof vest for her. “I want you to wear this.”
She shrugged into the vest with his help. “Thanks.”
“I could go in your place.”
“He’s not going to fall for that again. He’s not going to approach the car unless he clearly sees me behind the wheel.”
Joe nodded with reluctance. “I still hate this.”
“In another hour, it’ll be all over.”
He kissed her again. “All right. You drive down Route 1. I’ll drive the back roads. I’ll be in position by the time you get there. The second he shows, we’ll take him down. Keep your head down. Stay safe.”
