I stooped and picked up a box of broken Christmas ornaments. I straightened and looked at the chaos around me. Searching felt so pointless and yet we had to do it. We had to try every possible lead or else Nick would continue to plague me.
“Darlene, I doubt we’ll find body parts. Nick took dirty pictures. We’re probably looking for photographs.”
My sister raised a skeptical eyebrow, but she joined me in the search, the pointless, frustrating quest that left us filthy, cobweb-coated and sweaty. Worst of all, we came up empty-handed.
“I give up,” I said. “There’s nothing here. We might as well finish the bedroom while I think about it. Maybe something will come to mind while we work.”
Darlene pushed her bangs out of her eyes and smiled. “Now you’re talking.”
I yanked the curtains we’d originally come looking for out of a box marked Linen Closet, and followed Darlene back up the stairs. “Thanks for helping me look,” I said.
“I live to serve,” she called over her shoulder. “On to the boudoir!”
“Bedroom, Darlene. It’s a bedroom.”
“Whatever.”
We left the basement. I closed and locked the door behind us, then as an added precaution, pulled a kitchen chair over and wedged the back of it under the doorknob.
Darlene rolled her eyes. “It needs a dead bolt,” she said.
“This’ll have to do for now.”
Darlene picked up a glass from beside the sink and balanced it carefully on top of the diamond-cut doorknob. The flat edge was just long enough to support the glass.
“If we’re going to invent a home security system,” she said, “at least be a little creative. Now if he turns the knob, the glass will fall and break. You’ll hear it and call 9-1-1.”
I rolled my eyes. “Or the glass will fall, we’ll call the police and it’ll all be for nothing.”
“Work with me here, Sophie,” she said. “It’s part of the process. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“Whatever,” I said, doing my best imitation of her.
We climbed the stairs to my new bedroom, each carting items from my dresser and closet. For the next two hours we worked side by side, united in the effort to create something new and wonderful. I tried to focus on Nick and his search of the basement. What was he looking for?
Darlene and I threw quilts and comforters onto the new mattress and box spring. We draped gauzy curtains across the windows and piled pillows all the way across the bed. Darlene arranged the lighting, insisting on a pink lightbulb for the bedside table.
“Pink makes you look younger,” she insisted. “I think I have one. Wait right here.”
She vanished, the front door slamming behind her as she ran out to her car. Only Darlene would travel with pink light-bulbs, I thought. She returned with a brown paper bag, smiling triumphantly.
“I was going to take this home to my house,” she said, “for the same reason. I can stop on my way out to the subdivision and buy a replacement. I think you might need the pink light before I do.”
“Darlene! You’d think I was…”
Darlene raised an eyebrow. “Well,” she said, “aren’t you?”
I couldn’t look her in the eye. I felt myself blushing, and worse than that was the little smirk that crept across my lips, no matter how I hard I bit down on the inside of my cheek to stop it. Darlene was right and I was only making a bigger fool of myself by denying it.
Darlene saved me. She pretended to straighten a pillow and, with her head turned, said, “Make sure you lie on your back.”
“What?”
Darlene dropped the pillow pretense and turned around, her eyes sparkling. “Well, at your age, I’d be thinking that you’d want all the help you can get from gravity.”
“Darlene, what are you talking about? And what about my age? I’m only thirty-six.”
“Muscle tone doesn’t last forever, you know. All’s I’m saying is, you should lie on your back as much as possible. It smoothes the lines out so you look younger. If you’re on top looking down at him, well, there’s no telling what body parts will be sagging and drooping. First impressions are everything, Sophie!”
“Oh, my God,” I said, getting her now. “Darlene!”
She held up her hand. “Don’t bother thanking me,” she intoned solemnly. “After all, it’s what I do.”
The doorbell rang, startling us and preventing me from killing my sister. “It’s him,” I said.
“Well, it certainly isn’t Nick,” she answered. “He doesn’t ring doorbells. He just slithers under the door and makes himself at home.”
I felt the shiver of revulsion ripple over me as I headed down the stairs. Darlene must’ve felt the same way I did. She was muttering under her breath, but all I heard was the occasional “bastard” and “no good son of a bitch.”
I stopped suddenly on the last landing and Darlene ran into me, almost propelling me down the remaining four steps.
“What’s wrong?”
“Listen, if that is Gray, don’t say anything about the basement. Let me tell him later.”
Darlene nodded. “It’d be a shame to go to all this trouble only to ruin the mood with bad news. All right. I’ll keep a zipped lip.”
“Thanks, Dar,” I said, and really meant it. “I owe you.”
“Use the light and lie on your back,” she whispered as we approached the front door.
“Darlene!” I peeked out through the peephole and saw Gray jab impatiently at the doorbell again. “It’s him,” I whispered.
“I told you Nick wouldn’t ring the doorbell,” she said.
I unlocked the door and swung it wide. Gray smiled. “What took you so long?”
“We were changing a lightbulb,” Darlene answered. “And now, if you two will excuse me, I have to return to the store and buy a replacement bulb before I head home. I’m seeing Wendell later.”
Gray frowned, trying to make sense of Darlene, but she didn’t linger to field questions. She was out the door and down the driveway before he could turn to me and say, “Lightbulb?”
I shook my head and grabbed his hand, pulling him inside the doorway. “Never mind,” I said. “It would take too long to explain. So, what are you doing here? I thought you’d still be at the station or following leads.”
The unmistakable odor of Chinese food began to permeate the room, and as I watched, Gray brought a brown paper bag from behind his back and held it out to me.
“I’ve done all I can tonight. They’ll page me if something comes in. I thought you might be hungry,” he said. “I didn’t know what you’d want, so I got a little bit of everything. You do like Chinese food, I hope?”
I was ready to rip the bag out of his hand, but managed to restrain myself. “Love it,” I answered.
He smiled. “I do like a woman with a healthy appetite.”
Somehow I no longer felt he was talking about the food. Perhaps it was the chemistry that had invaded the room, drawing me to him, making me aware of every detail of his appearance, filling me with an anticipation that far outweighed my hunger for lo mein.
“Plates,” I murmured. “We need plates.” I turned and walked away from him, stopping a few feet from the entrance to the dining room and looking back to see what was keeping him from following me.
He hadn’t moved at all. He was watching me, the smile on his face slowly vanishing as his expression changed to one I couldn’t read. He turned and carefully placed the bag on the table beside the door.
“Come here,” he said.
It was the tone, the urgency and strength that made me move without question toward him, walking right into his embrace. His arms opened enough to fold me tightly against his chest, and then locked with equal intensity. When he bent his head to kiss me, I melted into him, exploring his mouth with my tongue, hungry for the taste of him.
We stood by the front door, and then leaned against it as his kisses grew into a fire that weakened us both. I felt his tongue
searching my mouth, promising me more, and then demanding the same in return.
My hands slid up his body, wrapping around his back and pulling him into me. I felt him grow hard, heard the low moan in his throat, and knew with certainty that the Chinese food would grow cold sitting on my table. I wanted Gray Evans as I had never wanted any man. The feelings that surged up inside my body were totally foreign and frightening in their intensity.
His tongue found my ear, circling the outer rim, darting behind and around, resting briefly on the fleshy lobe before I felt the sharp pain and pleasurable sensation of his teeth nibbling, teasing and insisting.
I felt my nipples grow taut, hardening as I brushed against his chest. My head swirled as Gray moved, touching me, tasting me and driving me slowly out of my mind.
“I want you,” he whispered. “Now.”
I felt my body answer him. I told him everything he wanted to know without uttering a word. I reached for his hand and turned, leading him toward the staircase, not sure that we would even make it to the landing before I had to tear his clothes off and see him standing in front of me, naked and hardened with desire.
I walked up the steps, my fingers fumbling to undo the buttons of my shirt. I pulled it off and tossed it over the rail as we moved. That stopped him. He grabbed me, swinging me sideways into the wall, pinning me as his fingers reached for the clasp of my black lace bra and undid it.
As the flimsy garment gave way and fell across my shoulders, he yanked it off, his eyes riveted to my breasts.
“God, yes,” he whispered, and took my nipples between his fingers, rolling and pinching them into tight balls of sensation. He bent his head and slipped one bud into his mouth, sucking and running his tongue over the ultratender tip.
I slid my fingers across his temples, down his neck and across his shoulders, pulling him to me and then pushing him away with almost one movement.
“Not here,” I whispered.
Gray raised his head and smiled into my eyes. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, “it will be here, there and everywhere I can take you. It will be tonight and tomorrow and next week.” His blue-gray eyes deepened into a smoky dark gray. “This may be the first time, but it will not be the last.”
My heart pounded. My knees felt as if they would give way. I wanted him everywhere—inside me, on top of me, behind me. I wanted all of him. I wanted to sink into him and give myself up to him. I wanted to make him sob with pleasure and groan with the agony of wanting me. I wanted all of him and I wanted it now.
I grabbed at the navy-blue T-shirt he wore and yanked it out of his waistband, pulling until he had no choice but to raise his hands and bend to let me tug it off. I tossed it aside and stopped, staring at the man who stood before me. Even in the dim light of the stair landing I could see the sheen of his tanned skin and the firm definition of muscles well accustomed to exercise and activity.
He saw me watching him and smiled. “Will it do?” he asked.
I ran my fingers across the fine hair that covered his chest and abdomen, marveling at the soft, feathery feel under my fingertips. I reached up and touched one nipple, felt it tighten, and then sucked the tip into my mouth, doing to him what I had felt him do to me.
I heard his sharp intake of breath, felt his hands tighten around my waist, and tried not to let go as he pulled me into him.
“You’ve made your point,” he whispered. “All right. Not here.”
He scooped me up in his arms, effortlessly carrying me the rest of the way up the stairs and down the hallway to my new bedroom. He lay me down on top of the quilts, capturing my wrists with one strong hand and pulling my arms up over my head. With his free hand he began to explore my body, trailing his fingertips across my cheek, down my neck and over my breasts, circling my stomach and dipping below the waistband of my jeans.
He released my hands and unzipped my jeans, pulling them off with a swift and practiced motion. He stood there at the foot of my bed, examining me and taking in every detail before returning to lie beside me. He touched every inch of exposed skin, following his fingers with his tongue and bringing me as close to the edge of control as he could without tipping me over. Somehow the man knew just where to draw the line, just how to bring me quivering to the point of no return.
“Please,” I heard myself beg.
He smiled softly. “Please what?” he whispered.
“Please,” I said again. I squirmed, struggling to get out of his grasp, longing to do the same things to him that he was doing to me.
“Do you like it when I do this?” he asked, flicking his tongue over the tip of one nipple.
“God, yes!” I cried softly.
“How about this?” His tongue traveled the length of my stomach, edging its way ever closer to the center of my body, skirting around and then teasing the inside of my thighs. “Do you like this?” he whispered.
My body was exploding with the waves of desire that built, one after another, threatening to overwhelm me with their intensity. It took every ounce of willpower I could find to push him away.
“Not so fast,” I whispered. I slid back from him, rising up on my elbows and resting against the mound of pillows that Darlene had taken such care to arrange. Gray gave me a puzzled look, tilting his head to one side and waiting.
I nodded my head in the direction of his legs. “Stand up,” I said. “Right there, at the foot of the bed.”
Gray smiled and did as I asked. I took my time, studying the tall, lean torso, savoring the way the whorls of hair disappeared below his waistband, and letting my gaze become a caress.
“Take them off,” I said, indicating the worn blue jeans.
The game was on. Gray slowly unbuttoned the top button of his pants, his eyes never leaving mine, his look a challenge. Who would last the longest? Who could prolong their desire, lengthening it into an almost unbearable tease of longing and sexual desire?
Gray’s fingers caressed the next button, easing it open, revealing a flash of gray briefs beneath the denim. His eyes never wavered. He slid his fingers slowly down the line of his fly, opening each button with slow, deliberate care. It was an invitation.
With elaborate ease, he worked the jeans down over his slender hips, letting them fall down around his ankles as he slowly stepped out of them and stood before me in gray silk boxers. They barely contained the bulge that grew as he stood and hooked his thumbs under his waistband, pulling the sexy underwear slowly down past his thighs.
He stepped out of them and straightened, unselfconscious, totally aware that I was watching him and staring at the erection that indicated just how aroused he was.
He smiled. I smiled. He waited and I slowly licked my lips.
“Come here,” I whispered.
“My pleasure,” he said softly.
“Oh, no,” I muttered under my breath, “I believe the pleasure will be all mine.”
Gray lowered himself onto the bed, covering my body with his. His tongue found the tip of my collarbone and he slowly began working his way up my neck, sending electric shocks throughout my body as he teased and flicked his way toward my lips.
I was losing what self-control I had, giving myself over to his knowing touch while still trying desperately to keep some part of myself insulated and protected from the feelings that accompanied Gray’s lovemaking. I wanted him but I didn’t want to lose myself to him.
Gray moved down my body, his tongue everywhere, his fingers slipping between my legs, teasing and investigating, entering me with a sure, deft touch that made me cry out with pleasure.
He lifted his head then, looked up at me and smiled slowly. Still watching my face, he lowered his head and let his tongue begin to follow his knowing fingers.
I shuddered, my hands reaching reflexively toward his head, caressing him as his tongue found every tiny, desire-filled spot. I felt my back arch as I moved into him. I moaned, calling his name softly as my body gave up every secret it possessed.
“Please,” I heard myself
whimper. “Don’t.”
His tongue insisted. His fingers moved deep inside me. I lost track of time and place and everything else but the feel of him slowly bringing me closer and closer to a shattering climax.
He felt it, too. He brought me time and again to the edge, only to back off at the final moment, waiting, then building again.
I pulled at him. I begged. “Please. Now. Inside me. Please.” But it was no use. Gray Evans was on a mission to make me lose my mind, and I was his hopeless prisoner.
Just as I thought it would never end, he raised his head, looked at me and said very softly, “Let go, Sophie.”
I felt tears well up in my eyes. I wanted him. I wanted this, and yet part of me wanted to shield myself from such emotion.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere. Let it happen, Soph.”
He waited for a brief moment, searching my face for some sign, some signal that I had heard and understood him. Then, apparently satisfied, he lowered his head again and I felt my body sing beneath his touch. This time, as Gray worked his careful magic, I forgot to think, forgot to protect myself and indeed forgot everything but the pure desire that swept throughout my body.
He felt the climax coming almost before I did, and murmured something soothing as my body arched against him again, racked with the building waves of pleasure.
“Now, Sophie!” I heard him say. I called his name and the world exploded into a tidal surge of color and longing.
I grabbed his shoulders with an urgency that would not be denied now. I pulled at him, calling his name and begging as he hovered over me. I felt my body lunge to meet his, and gasped as he entered me, hard and forceful, his own desire making him take me with an urgency that stole my breath away.
“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie,” he cried, using my name to punctuate his thrusts, driving deeper inside me as his desire mounted.
We moved together, each feeling the surge of pleasure building, our bodies communicating in a timeless bond of need and longing. I watched his face, feeling him swell inside me as he came closer and closer to climax. With a cry, Gray thrust into me and exploded, taking me with him over the edge.
Sophie’s Last Stand Page 17
