Ripping his mouth from hers, he panted, “Eight. Look at me.”
She opened her eyes and met his dark, impassioned gaze. He moved over her with the lithe motions of a tiger stalking its prey. Excitement sizzled along her nerve endings.
“Nine.” He spread her legs, and the tip of his cock, rock solid and smooth as silk, pressed against her pussy. Her breaths were short pants as her body prepared. As the anticipation grew.
“Say it,” he whispered.
“Ten...”
He thrust into her just once, and her world shattered.
She clung to him as the sensual waves of the orgasm swept through her, continuing with each roll of his hips.
“You’re mine,” he growled in her ear as his speed increased. “Mine, Heather.”
She nodded in agreement. Her body belonged to him. Like a puppet, she responded to his every touch.
His arms wound around her, nearly crushing her. She wrapped her legs tight around his waist, her arms around his neck, and reveled in each harsh breath, each low grunt he uttered in her ear.
“Again. Come again. Let me feel it.” He tipped her ass up with his hands, and the new angle enabled him to push deeper than ever before.
This time the climax built slower, edging closer with each deep thrust of his cock. His balls bounced against her ass, his pelvic bone rubbed her clit.
“Yessss.” His teeth nipped her throat.
Her nails dug into his back.
Her toes tingled. She couldn’t breathe. She threw her head back and, when the first massive wave crested over her, Paul’s shout joined hers as they tumbled into the abyss. Together.
* * * * *
Heather stirred. Paul shifted a bit, hoping he wasn’t squishing her, but he wouldn’t let go. He couldn’t. Not after what they’d done this morning.
She was so responsive to him. Her natural submissiveness came out in full force, even though he doubted she even realized it. She’d even called him master in the heat of the moment. It thrilled him, yet at the same time saddened him to know the only time she did trust him was during sex.
He glanced at the clock and wondered how much more time would pass before she realized what he’d done. It was almost eleven. But, damn it, if need be he’d keep her in bed so sexually satiated she couldn’t move until Mike found Harold and locked the fucker away.
She mumbled and wiggled her ass against his groin. A rough groan squeezed from his throat, and he closed his eyes, loving the feel of her sweet little body, nice and warm next to him.
He’d wondered, on his fortieth birthday, if he really was over the hill, as all the decorations left in his cubicle at the station had stated. The way his body responded to Heather, he could officially say he was nowhere near the damn hill. Because even after giving her four orgasms and experiencing two of the best of his life, he was ready for round three.
“You’re insatiable,” Heather murmured and wiggled her ass again. “You’re like that pink rabbit.”
Paul chuckled and nibbled her shoulder. “The Energizer Bunny?”
She nodded. “Aye. He keeps goin’, and goin’, and goin’.”
He ran his hand over her hip, down into the damp fiery-red curls between her thighs. “What about you, honey? A little sore?”
“Mmm. Not when you do that.”
As he petted her like a kitten, her body relaxed in his arms. Yeah, he thought. A lifetime of this just might not be long enough. He loved it when her soft accent rolled over him whenever she murmured her pleasure. He loved her milky-white skin and the tiny tan freckles. He loved her. He just didn’t know how to convince her of that love.
“I have to get up.” She pushed the sheet aside, and he released her, assuming she needed the bathroom. But when she sat up on the edge of the bed, she asked, “What have you done?” then shot to her feet and turned on him, forehead drawn into a scowl.
“What’s wrong?”
She pointed an accusing finger at the clock. “You did this on purpose. To keep me from going to work, didn’t you?”
He shrugged. No use in denying it.
“Damn you.” She stomped from the room, and the bathroom door slammed.
He sighed and sat up on the edge of the bed. “Here we go again.”
Waiting until he heard the shower, he went into the bathroom and joined her in the tub.
“Get out o’ hear, you big oaf.” She shoved at his shoulder, but he didn’t budge. “I dinna want ye here.”
He held his patience and touched her cheek. “Heather, listen to me.”
“No! You dinna listen to me. I willna listen to you. I need this job.”
“You’re job is safe, sweetheart. I talked to Mr. Zimmerman first thing this morning and told him what happened last night.”
Her eyes went wide, and her face flushed with fury.
“Hold that temper two more seconds, love. I told him you were mugged, and we believe it’s the same man who broke into your bungalow. And I told him you are under twenty-four hour police protection until the man is found.”
“How dare—”
“And, he said to tell you not to worry about your job, no matter how long it takes. He put you on administrative leave at half salary. Your checks will be direct deposited in your account, as usual.”
Her mouth shut so hard her teeth clicked. But she still glared.
He couldn’t keep the smile in check, and he thought she might take a swing at him when he chuckled. Instead, she crossed her arms under those lovely breasts.
“You could’ve told me what you were doing instead of tricking me into staying in bed half the day.”
He licked his lips, wanting to get his mouth on the dusky nipples puckering under his gaze. “You would’ve only argued with me. You like arguing, don’t you?” He raised his gaze to her face to see a smile tugging at her lips. “Are you honestly complaining about my methods this morning?”
She ducked her head, and her wet hair blocked his view of her eyes. Then she nudged his chest with her shoulder. “Jerk.”
He laughed and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her against his chest. She dropped her arms and hugged him in return. He sighed in relief. He’d expected more of a fight.
“What else did you do? Any word from your partner?”
“Harold went to the Bayview Hospital yesterday evening. Used yet another alias and false address. He was long gone by the time Mike contacted the doctor. Harold’s fingers weren’t broken, but very badly bruised.”
“Damn.”
Paul kissed her forehead. “Yeah.”
“Anything else?”
“I’ve been thinking about what Harold said to you in the garage. About hiding behind a boyfriend.”
She tipped her head back and looked at him. She seemed very calm, considering their line of conversation. Maybe she was starting to trust him?
“And?”
“I think we need to make him think you’re here alone.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t understand. You’ve planted yourself here as my personal watchdog.”
“Turn around.” He turned her by the shoulders and reached for the shampoo. “And don’t start getting snippy again.” He lathered her hair and, when he felt her tense shoulders relax against his chest, he smiled. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m still going to be your watchdog,” he said with a smirk. “But I’m going to get my truck out of your driveway. Rinse.”
She ducked under the spray and soapy rivulets streamed down her back, over that luscious ass he couldn’t keep his hands off of.
She sent him a frown over her shoulder when he slicked his fingers over her soft butt cheeks. “What makes you think he’ll try the house again?” When she reached for the conditioner, he took it from her hands and worked it into her hair.
“What he said to you yesterday. ‘No one to rescue you.’ I think he knows I’ve been here. He’s been watching your house. That’s why he chose to attack you while you were alone in the garage.”
/> “And he’s just going to believe you’ve gone? After yesterday?”
“Well, darlin’, that’s where that temper of yours comes into play.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Rinse.” He nudged her back under the water. “We’re going to have a fight. We just have to make sure the timing is perfect.”
Chapter Ten
Paul paced the living room. He couldn’t sit still. Tonight was the night. He felt it. Harold was out there. The back of his neck felt tight. The little hairs on his arms prickled.
And the timing seemed right. A few days had passed since the attempted rape at the garage. Enough time for things to settle down, or for Harold to assume they had. Judging by the criminal’s previous habits, the time between attacks was shortening with each failed attempt.
Tonight had to be the night, but if not, several days without his truck around should help prod Harold into action.
His cell phone buzzed, and he fumbled it from his belt then glanced at his watch. Seven-thirty p.m. It felt like hours since Heather had dozed off in his arms and he’d deposited her on the bed, but less than forty-five minutes had passed.
“Baxter here.”
“Hey, buddy. It’s Jon.”
Sinking onto the sofa, Paul propped his feet on the coffee table. “Hey. Something wrong?”
Jon chuckled. “Actually I was calling to see how our patient is doing. How’s she coping?”
Scraping his hands over his face, Paul sighed. “I don’t know. You were right about the mood swings. She’s ticked off that I’m not letting her go to work, which I can understand. But...”
“But?”
“Hell, Jon, I’m not good at all this open up and tell me your feelings shit.”
Jon’s laughter on the other end of the line made Paul want to punch him.
“I told her I loved her,” he blurted out.
The laughter stopped. “Oh? How did she take that?”
“She called me a jerk.”
“Okay.”
“She thought I said it to trick her into doing what I wanted her to do. She doesn’t believe me.”
“From what you’ve told me, I suspect she may not be ready to hear declarations of love. She’s been through a lot, Paul. With a rapist after her, she’s got enough to handle.”
“Dang it, I know that.” Pushing to his feet, Paul started pacing again. “But I feel it’s something more. Something deeper. It’s like, every morning she’s surprised I’m still here. I think she expects me to vanish into thin air.”
“Hmm.” Paul could almost picture Jon slipping off his glasses and leaning back in his chair with that particular look he gets when he’s mulling over a situation. “Didn’t you tell me she’s a widow?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how her husband died? Was it sudden, by any chance?”
“She said he had a brain tumor. A few days from diagnosis to death.” And then realization struck him. “Oh.”
“Mmm hmm. She does expect you to disappear.”
“Abandonment.”
“Classic symptom for widows. Especially ones that lose their spouses at a young age without warning. Here today, gone tomorrow.”
“But I’m not going to leave her, so how do I convince her of that?”
“That might be a whole lot harder than you’d think. You, my friend, have one of the most dangerous jobs out there. You put your life on the line every single day. There’s absolutely no guarantee you’ll come home each night.”
“Fuck.” He stopped and glanced at the closed bedroom door. Was that the problem? Was she afraid he’d get killed? That no matter what he professed, he wouldn’t always be there? Shit, there were never any guarantees. Was she willing to live her life alone instead of taking any chances at all?
“You can always change careers.”
“Very funny.”
“Give her time, Paul,” Jon said, his voice serious. “She’s a tough little lady, but she’s going through a lot. Between the recent attacks and her history, can you honestly blame her for being a little gun-shy?”
“No. I’m just afraid that once this creep is behind bars, she’ll throw me out for good.” He sat back down on the sofa and laid his head back.
“I wish I could tell you you’re wrong, but only time will tell. As a psychiatrist I can assure you that the harm done to her can’t be healed overnight. She simply might not be ready for another long-term relationship.”
“Yeah, great. Thanks for the pep talk, buddy.”
Jon chuckled. “If there’s anything else I can do, you’ve got my number.”
“Yes. And...thanks.”
“Anytime, Paul.”
* * * * *
Heather stared at the seam of light streaming through the darkened bedroom from the doorway. Her eyes stung with tears she refused to shed. No more damn tears.
Despite the closed door, she’d heard every word Paul said to that shrink. She was furious he’d talk about her behind her back, yet... She bit her lip and blinked rapidly.
He really did love her. And he was right. When she’d heard him utter the word abandonment, everything fell into place in her head. She hadn’t fully understood until now exactly why she was so sure Paul would leave her. She’d never consciously thought about the fact that she felt abandoned by Davie. The idea was ludicrous, even though it was true.
They’d been so close, so happy. So much in love. They’d been planning a big party for their anniversary and looking for a house outside of the city. They’d...been thinking about adopting a dog....
Heather sniffled and rolled to her side, hugging her pillow.
Davie’s death wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Just a screwy twist of fate. The doctors said he’d probably had the tumor for years, but until it grew enough to be felt, which made it too massive to operate on, no one would’ve ever suspected. But they’d had those years together, then...gone.
I’m not going to leave her, so how do I convince her of that? Paul’s words ripped at her heart and terrified her more than he could possibly know. He could never convince her that he wouldn’t leave...somehow. If Davie’s death had taught her nothing else, it proved that some things were out of her control. There were no guarantees. Something could, and probably would, separate them.
She had to protect herself against that possibility. She didn’t know if she could survive losing another lover the way she’d lost Davie.
* * * * *
“Heather.” A gentle hand nudged her shoulder. “Honey, wake up. It’s time.”
She rolled onto her back and blinked up at Paul through the dim light streaming in the door. “It’s the middle of the night,” she mumbled and pulled a pillow over her head.
Paul laughed, and the bed dipped as he sat next to her. “No, love. It’s late evening, and time for you to throw me out.” He swept away the covers, and then his big, warm hand settled on her hip.
“Throw yourself out. I’m tired.” And she didn’t know if she had it in her to stage a fight. Not tonight. Last night, sure. Earlier she’d been looking forward to yelling at him on the front lawn. But tonight, after hearing his phone conversation, she wanted to be held in his arms and convinced of his sincerity.
“Honey.” His voice was a low rumble that made her physically ache inside. “Let’s get this done.”
Resigned that he’d neither hug her nor let her sleep until he had his way, she pushed the pillow off her head and sat up. “Okay.”
He stood and held out his hand to help her off the bed, then backed away while she pulled on her shorts and T-shirt. When she was ready, he dumped a pile of clothes out of his gym bag and carried them into the front room.
At the front door he flipped on the lights. She blinked at the brightness and frowned. “Just blind me,” she mumbled.
He grinned. “Here. Take these so you can throw them at me.” She took the clothes from him, wrapping her arms around them, and looked into his eyes. His hands settled on
her arms, and his gaze was so intense it felt like a physical touch. “I’ll be gone no more than twenty-five minutes. As soon as you come inside, I want you to set the alarm and shut off all the lights. Stay away from the windows. I’ll call you from my cell phone when I’m outside, so you can disengage the alarm and let me in.”
She nodded. Fear coiled cold and slick in her belly. What if something happened to him? What if Harold was waiting out there for him? “What if you’re not back in time?”
His hands tightened on her arms. “I will be. But, if I’m not back in a half hour, I want you to call my partner. I programmed his number into memory 2 on your phone. Mike knows what’s going on tonight, and he’ll be here in minutes.”
“How...” Her throat was too tight. She cleared it. “How do you know this’ll work?”
Paul shook his head. “I don’t, honey. But what have we got to lose?”
“Harold might not be out there. This could all be for nothing.”
“Maybe, but you being alone seems to be the only thing that draws him out of hiding.”
Panic welled up inside her. “Why can’t you just hide cops in the bushes outside? Wait ’til he shows up?”
Paul’s mouth descended on hers and stopped her frantic flow of words. She gripped the pile of clothing in her arms, wishing she could cling to him. As much as it pained her to feel so helpless, she didn’t want him to leave. Didn’t want to be left alone while Harold could be lurking outside.
“If he’s watching the house as I suspect he is, he’d spot an influx of police. Everything will be all right, honey,” he said when he pulled back, but still held her upper arms in a comforting grip. “Half hour at the most.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have some friends that own a house a few miles from here. They’re letting me park the truck in their garage. Then as soon as I make certain I’m not followed, I’ll come back by way of the beach.”
She glanced down to see him wearing white running shoes instead of his normal black cowboy boots.
Anna Leigh Keaton & Madison Layle - Incognito 04 - Healing Heather Page 10
