“What’s wrong?” Luke’s voice was edged with concern. “If you’re having doubts, you don’t have to go through with this. We can stop anytime you want.”
“No. Believe me. I want to go through with this. You have no idea how much I want to go through with this.” She hesitated. She did not need to point out any more of her insecurities. “Let’s go in the bedroom where it’s more comfortable.” She took his hand and led him from the kitchen.
In the bedroom, she pulled him close again, letting her hands trail across those amazing abs. City lights filtered through the rain-splattered glass, but the room was more shadow than light. She spread her fingers across his flat, hard belly. Good Lord, those Abercrombie & Fitch models had nothing on him.
Luke pulled away. “Hold on.” He moved a switch on the wall. Blinds lowered over the windows with a soft whirring sound. He reached for the bedside lamp.
She put a hand on his arm. “How about lighting those candles instead?”
“I want to see you.” His voice was thick and hoarse and turned her on even more. But still.
“Ah, but that’s the thing. I’m not so sure I want to be seen.” Her eyes dropped to the floor. “My body’s not exactly perfect anymore.”
“Brooke.” Luke reached for the light and switched it on. “No one’s body is perfect. I want to see everything.” He stood there for a few long seconds, silently weighing some unspoken factors.
Brooke held her breath. Was he changing his mind?
Finally, he took a step backward and spoke. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Then we’ll see if you still want to sleep with me.” The stoic expression on his face told her he feared her rejection, and her heart swelled at the courage his offer had required. He shrugged out of his own shirt and turned around.
Brooke barely contained the breath that wanted to whoosh right out of her lungs at the sight of the angry scars that covered his back like badly matched patchwork. Despite the months that had passed since he incurred his injuries, some of the scars looked fresh and raw.
“Does it hurt?” The question came out in a whisper.
“Not much. The skin has no feeling in some spots, and is unusually sensitive in others. Sometimes it itches. It’s stiff.” He turned back around to face her. “Still interested?”
Had he really thought she wouldn’t be? If anything, his display of trust turned her on even more.
She nodded and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah.”
The smile spread over his face slowly, and then turned into a humorous leer. He wiggled an eyebrow back at her. “Your turn.”
Brooke grasped her sweatshirt and drew it up over her head. Luke’s eyes brightened as he stared at her breasts, held into a lovely and enticing position by a worth-every-nickel push-up bra. Her nipples tingled and tightened as if he’d touched them. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her jeans and slowly drew them down over her hips and legs. In just her string bikini, she stood in front of him, just out of reach.
“Take them off.” His demand was more breath than voice.
Brooke reached behind her and unhooked the bra. The straps slid down her arms as it fell to the floor. She bent to wiggle out of her panties and looked up at Luke. The hunger on his face as he surveyed her naked body wiped out all her doubts. Her blood began to hum again.
Standing before him as he stared at her, Brooke found the fact that she was nude and he was still mostly dressed erotic. He hadn’t moved, but the vein in the side of his neck bulged rhythmically with each beat of his heart.
Brooke stepped toward him and pressed her bare breasts up against his chest, rubbing her nipples against the coarse hair. He raised his hands tentatively to her shoulders and separated their bodies a few inches. Brooke watched, fascinated by the slight tremble in his fingers as he slowly stroked downward over her breast with one hand. He cradled her in his palm. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.
“I want to savor every bit of you. There’s no rush.” He whispered as his lips brushed her temple.
Actually, there was, and his statement only fueled the fire within her. Brooke was going to blow a fuse if she didn’t get him inside her soon. But Luke seemed content to just touch her breast, staring at his own hand as if he was completely fascinated with the weight and softness of her in his fingers. Brooke, however, had lots of other body parts that begged, yelled, clamored to be stroked. An ache that only Luke could satisfy.
He needed to feel the urgency that coursed through Brooke’s veins in a thick and hot rush.
She raised her eyes to his again and pressed a palm against his erection through his pants. His breath caught and quickened as her fingers worked the button of his jeans. She drew the zipper down carefully and freed him into her palm. Well, more than her palm. He was huge and heavy as she cradled him in her hand. Satin over steel.
His thumb moved to brush her nipple, and Brooke felt the tingle all the way deep into her belly. Urgency replaced her need to feel powerful. She drew his jeans down to his knees and pushed him backward toward the bed, his erection as impressive as a Manhattan high-rise. As she tossed his pants aside, his hand closed over hers. The veins in his forearm corded with tension. So much for him not being as aroused as her.
“Nightstand.” His words were guttural and strained.
Brooke reached into the drawer and drew out a box of condoms.
She handed him one and tossed the rest onto the nightstand. Vaguely she thought she should be nervous, but her belly only tightened with anticipation.
The foil was slippery in Luke’s sweaty fingers.
“Maybe I’d better get that.” She took it from him and tore open the package, wondering if she’d remember how to put one of these on. It had been many years since she’d needed to use a condom. Luckily, it turned out to be much like riding a bike, and the basic design hadn’t changed in two decades.
Brooke climbed on top of him and straddled his hips.
His hand slid across her belly and down between her legs, gently exploring and testing. He needn’t have worried. She was more than ready. She was so far beyond ready; she was going to finish all by herself if he didn’t get a move on.
And damn, wouldn’t that be a shame?
One finger slid inside of her, and he tensed. As she moved to lower herself onto him, his hands gripped her hips, stopping her descent.
“What’s wrong?” Brooke panted, trying to keep the edge of irritation out of her voice. So close and yet so far away.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” His face tinged red, both from exertion and a faint trace of embarrassment. “I’m a… a big guy, and you’re so… ah… small.”
Brooke could not contain the short burst of laughter that shot from her lips. She quickly covered her mouth to stifle any further giggles. If there was one steadfast rule about men and sex, it was that a woman shouldn’t laugh when they talk about their man parts. It tended to spoil the mood.
Luke raised one brow.
“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. Really.” She took a deep breath and calmed herself. She did not want to talk. She wanted his huge erection inside her right now, rubbing her where she ached, but he was so darned considerate. “Trust me. I’m going to appreciate everything you’ve got for me.” With that last statement she took him into her body in one long stroke.
Holy…
He filled her completely. She held still, letting her body adjust to his presence.
Whoever said that size didn’t matter was so full of shit.
Brooke rose and eased down on him. Luke’s body snapped tight and arched up off the bed. Sweat beaded his forehead and chest. His hands reached up to cup her breasts. Callused thumbs stroked her nipples.
With palms flattened on his stomach, she moved again, savoring the feel of the slow stroke inside her body.
He pulled her down to his chest and breathed in her ear, “Brooke.”
Luke’s hands grasped her hips. Fingers circled around to s
queeze her ass. His chest heaved as she slid up and down on his chest. “Easy. Don’t want it to end this soon.”
But Brooke couldn’t control the movement of her hips. They pulsed faster until Luke wrapped both arms around her and, with a quick roll, flipped her onto her back.
He slowed his movements, but Brooke was already too far gone to stop.
“No. Faster. Please.” Almost there.
He grunted and rose over her. Supporting his weight with his arms, he drove into her. Brooke clutched at his shoulders as the climax built. The pressure increased until she could barely breathe.
Sweat mingled. Luke’s hips thrust faster. Her body slid on the sheets. Brooke reached for the headboard and held on.
Brooke closed her eyes as bright, multi-colored lights flashed and pulsed behind her eyelids. Tension coiled deep in her belly. Her body jerked and she closed tight around him as pleasure burst through her core, flooding her veins with heat.
Luke’s back arched, and his body stiffened for a long moment. Then he groaned, shuddered, and collapsed on top of her. “Thank God.”
He drew his elbows under his arms and supported his weight. Then neither of them moved as they both sucked air into their deprived lungs.
Finally, Brooke opened her eyes. She planted her hand in the center of his chest. His heart hammered against her palm. Luke smiled and leaned down to kiss her on the lips. “Thank you.”
“I think that’s my line.” Brooke grinned back at him. His face was more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. Her hand stroked down his rib cage. He could use a little weight, but the man was fit.
“That was amazing, but I’d envisioned something a little… slower.”
“Sorry. Couldn’t wait any longer.” Brooke twirled her fingertip in the hair on his chest. “We could always do it again.”
“Practice does make perfect.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The shadow of the three-story brick building fell over his car. In the darkness, rain sluiced off the windshield. He stared through the rivulets at the apartments in front of him. What would be seen by some as an inconvenience tonight was a blessing to him. The downpour would obscure visibility and keep people inside.
The apartment complex, comprised of three buildings surrounding a courtyard full of crabgrass, was large enough that residents surely did not know all their neighbors. Scraggly shrubs flanked the entrances. The parking lot made up the fourth side of the square. Each building had its own secure entry. Guests needed to be buzzed inside. But he knew all he had to do was wait.
Selena, the waitress in 12B, started her shift at 10:00 p.m. He checked the luminous dial of his Timex. She should be coming out any minute.
A young woman appeared in the glassed-in lobby. Right on time. He flipped up the hood of his jacket, reached for his door handle, and got out of his car. Rain pelted nylon as he sprinted for the building. His boots splashed in shallow puddles. He reached the door just as she was exiting.
“Here you are.” As polite and sweet as usual, the pretty brunette held the door open with one white waitress shoe while popping up an umbrella.
“Thanks.” He kept his face turned down and his shoulders hunched over as he stepped inside and shook the water from his jacket, dog-fashion. Huddled under her umbrella, the waitress jogged to her car. Lovely. He’d spent some time watching her before he’d selected Maddie as his prize this year. Perhaps that hadn’t been the best decision.
One he could rectify at some point. Not now, though. He already had his hands full tonight.
He waited until Selena drove off, then lingered a few more minutes. The rest was a bit tricky, but if he could pull it off…
Well, Brooke was going to get quite a shock.
He wished he could have seen her reaction when she found the mannequin. All this preparation was like tenderizing her, letting her marinate in her own terror until she was ready to be his main course.
All was dark and quiet. He shoved a large rock between the door and the jamb, holding it open. Then he returned to his car.
Sheets of rain poured down on him as he pulled the tarp-wrapped bundle out of the trunk. He staggered. The woman was much heavier than the mannequin he’d stashed in Brooke’s basement, but she was more pliant. He shifted his grip, and pain shot through his wrist. Normally, he’d be able to lift her deadweight without issue, but the earlier adventure at Brooke’s house had taken its toll. Too bad he hadn’t had time to kill the stupid dog that tripped him.
Rain dripped from the visor of his hood as he stumbled across twenty feet of concrete to the entrance. He toed the door open and scanned the stairwell. No one above or below. Using the handrail for balance, he took her down one flight.
He turned and nudged the basement door open with the back of his shoulder. In the dim light of an emergency-exit sign, two pairs of washers and dryers were lined up on one side. The storage units on the right were cheap, chain-link jobs, more dog kennels than proper storage lockers. Tenants secured their bikes, skis, and other outdoor gear with combination locks. The cloying scent of fabric softener mixed with the smell of mildew.
He carried her toward the far corner, just beyond the laundry area, and stretched her out on the floor. Holding the loose end of the plastic with one boot, he gave the body a shove with his other. She rolled over twice, the tarp falling away, her arms slapping onto the cement with a fleshy sound. The neatly folded sheet he’d stashed inside the tarp with her fell loose. He dragged her by the armpits to the corner and propped her up. Then he shook out the sheet, covered her body, and folded the edge over her head. Her face, once so pretty, was too battered to interest him any longer, but he hardened at the memory of how it got that way. His fists alternately pummeling her face and encircling her throat while he pumped between her flailing legs. The whimpers rasping from her bloody lips had sounded just like the mewling of a dying kitten.
The whole time he’d pictured Brooke’s face and body in place of his victim.
What would it be like to render such a strong woman helpless? To invade her body in every way he could envision. He had quite an imagination and plenty of experience to call on.
His hand drifted to his crotch. He stopped himself. He needed to practice self-control before his time with Brooke came. Their night together couldn’t be a repeat of tonight’s premature finish. No. He had big plans for Brooke.
He adjusted the sheet over the bloody face. Now for the finishing touches. He threaded the earring through the hole in her ear. He struggled to hook the tiny backing with his latex-gloved fingers. He jammed it onto the post. There. From his pocket, he drew a necklace. Sterling silver glimmered in the emergency-exit light. He fastened the chain around her neck and adjusted the pendant to the center of her naked chest, right over the name he’d carved in her skin.
Perfect.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Luke stumbled down a smoke-filled stairwell. Pain blasted through his back. With every step, the unwieldy load of guilt he carried grew heavier. He staggered under its weight. His lungs screamed. His head reeled. The toe of a wing-tip caught on a tread. He tripped, grabbing the metal handrail to steady himself.
Pausing for two deep breaths of foul air, Luke swayed.
Can’t stop now.
He gathered his panic and harnessed it to propel him forward again. A concrete landing. A one-eighty. Another flight of steps. He turned again, his aching thighs rubbering out on him. Another group of people rushed past. An elbow brushed his ribs, the small jostle enough to throw his stride off again.
An older man coughed. He wiped soot from his face with the sleeve of a silk shirt and squinted at Luke through the haze. “Can I help you?” he asked in Spanish.
But Luke couldn’t let him. Couldn’t let go of the railing. If he stopped to think, he’d never get moving again. He shook his head and continued downward, spiraling into nothing.
Luke jerked awake, his body covered with a film of sweat. His breath came in pants and his heart hammered
against his rib cage. His eyes darted around the strange room. The nightmare had been as vivid as usual, in full color and surround sound, and it was a few minutes before he oriented himself in his bedroom. In bed. With a very naked Brooke. Her hand rested on his chest. The top of her breast swelled over the edge of the comforter.
Thank God he hadn’t fallen out of bed, and what a shame he needed to move.
But the adrenaline that rushed through his veins like class-five rapids demanded a physical outlet. Sleep would be impossible for the remainder of the night. As would lying still and trying to pretend it hadn’t happened. Folding back the warm down blanket, he eased his body away from Brooke and toward the edge of the bed.
“Luke?”
He glanced over at Brooke’s tousled head as she sat up behind him. The concern in her eyes sent a flood of humiliation through him. “Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep.”
“Everything is not fine. You look like you just ran the fifteen-hundred meter.” The slight edge of anger in her voice took Luke by surprise. “And I will certainly not go back to sleep.”
He paused, reluctant to share any of the gory details about his horrific experience. Brooke had enough of her own terrible memories to carry. Part of him wanted to unload some of his guilt and pain, but Brooke didn’t need more violent images in her head. Besides, talking about it didn’t really help. It just made him think about it more, and his epic failure was the last thing he wanted to reflect on.
Plus, he liked keeping her separate from his nightmares. She made him laugh, made him forget sometimes, just for a little while, what had happened over there. Well, maybe forget was too strong a word. He’d never forget. But when she was nearby, those memories weren’t always front and center in his mind.
She Can Scream Page 20
