“I have to have you. Now,” he rumbled in her ear.
“Please,” she whispered hoarsely.
Needing no further enticement, he grabbed her under her arms and hoisted her out of the water and onto the dock. She scooted back and stretched out on the sun-baked boards as he climbed up the ladder. Dripping water onto her, he crawled closer until he hovered over her, his knees imprisoning her thighs and his hands on either side of her head. Her eyes met his and burned with a desire that matched the need flaming inside him. She reached for the waistband of his briefs and dragged the wet fabric down his hips. Then she touched him, wrapping her fingers around his heat, and he nearly exploded.
He caught her mouth with his and ravaged her with his kiss. Time and space ceased to exist. All that mattered was Olivia, the feel of her body arching and writhing beneath him, the pounding need to fill her and have her body wrap him in her warmth. He skimmed his hands over her body, hooked her panties with his fingers and pulled them down her legs in one long, swift motion. Olivia’s hand roamed over his back and buttocks, testing and squeezing and driving him out of his mind. When their clothes had been discarded, she opened her legs for him, and he nestled against her, groaning in sweet agony.
He stroked her tender skin and found her slick and ready for him. Desire coiled tighter in him, ready to burst, and he sealed her mouth with another deep kiss.
“Please, Reyn. Now.” She raised her hips, echoing her words with her body.
He raised his head and peered into her eyes, seeking confirmation, permission—and receiving both. Holding her gaze, he positioned himself and slowly guided the tip of his erection into her. She stretched to accommodate him, her body tight as he tried to slide deeper. And met resistance.
His body screamed for release, and it took all his strength not to drive himself deep and hard. Gently he tried again, and Olivia winced.
Dear God, he was hurting her. As if she were a—
He froze, icy horror splashing him when the truth penetrated his haze of lust. With tense, jerky movements, he pulled away from her and clambered to his feet. Plowing his hands through his hair, he sucked in a steadying breath.
“You’re a virgin.” His voice was filled with anger and accusation, and she flinched.
“Y-yes.”
He sucked in a deep breath, trying to control the tension wringing his body. Damn it, he still wanted her, even knowing what it would cost him. And cost her.
“Why didn’t you say something?” he growled.
“I… Why does it matter? What difference does it make to you?” She crossed her arms over her breasts, hugging herself, and drew her legs up close to her body. He saw her shiver, despite the scalding sun, and pain squeezed his chest.
“It matters. It just does.” He snatched up his wet underwear, gritting his teeth. His body still throbbed with unfulfilled need, and knowing he could do nothing about it made him madder.
“I don’t understand. If I’m willing to—”
“But I’m not willing.” He continued dressing while Olivia stared at him with wounded eyes. Sucking in a deep breath, he turned to her, trying to organize his thoughts despite the riot of emotions and yearning still battling inside him. “I don’t want to be your first. I don’t want you to have any emotional connection to me.” He sighed and met her querying look with a hard gaze. “A woman’s first time is…special. Something she never forgets. I don’t want to be special to you. It has to be only sex.”
She stared at him silently, her eyes glittering with tears.
He shoved his feet in his shoes and turned toward the woods. The rustle of clothes told him she was finally dressing. He screwed up the nerve to face her again. “Olivia, I’m sorry. This is just how it has to be.”
He waited for her to glance up before continuing. He wanted to make sure she understood what he had to say next. “Don’t fall in love with me. I’m not what you want or need in your life, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
She shook her head. A deep V creased her brow over sad eyes. “Why won’t you let me in? What are you afraid of?”
His heart slammed against his ribs, and he tensed. “I’m not afraid. But you should be.”
Olivia watched Reyn retreat into the woods, her wet clothes chafing her sensitized skin. She quivered with frustration, disappointment and unfulfilled longing. The irony of her situation bubbled from her in a harsh laugh. She finally wanted to give herself to a man, had found a man whom she respected and trusted enough to give her virginity to. And that same honor and nobility stopped him from finishing the act.
Despite her dissatisfaction, she respected Reyn all the more because of his convictions and restraint. She should probably thank him for having more control than she could muster. He was right that she’d attach certain significance to her first sexual experience and hold her first lover in a special regard. Knowing that Reyn would be leaving for Atlanta eventually spun their involvement in a new light. Realizing they’d likely never share the same priority of home and family made it easier to accept his abrupt break in their lovemaking.
But, damn it, her body still craved his touch. She closed her eyes and remembered the sensual feel of his hands and mouth on her skin, her breasts. Her stomach performed a long, slow roll, and shivers of exhilaration spread through her body again. The anticipation of their joining had been sweeter and more urgent than anything she’d ever experienced. If only she could break through his defenses, help him resolve whatever made him feel he would let her down. If only they could…
Disgusted with her pointless wishing, she slapped her hand on the hot wood of the dock and shoved to her feet. She padded down the rough planking toward the shore then gingerly picked her way through the prickly pine straw and grass toward the woods.
She needed to clean up and get ready for class. She needed to stop lusting over Reyn and realize a fling with her favorite fantasy man would be a mistake. He was unlikely to change his mind, and she didn’t need to fall for someone who couldn’t—wouldn’t—commit to her. A few moments of ecstasy was not worth the heartache she was bound to feel when he left. And he would leave. Of that, she was certain.
Following the well-worn path toward her house, she tried to focus on her classes, on the investigation, on anything except the sense of incompleteness for their aborted lovemaking.
The coroner’s mention of a skull fracture definitely made Claire’s death suspicious. So why hadn’t—
The snap of a twig behind her yanked her from her musings.
But before she could turn to see who followed her, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, another snaking around her waist.
Olivia tried to scream, but the hand smothered her breath. Her captor jerked her backward, and she stumbled. When she fell, the hand slipped off her mouth, and she released a shattering scream. As she was hauled to her feet, she glimpsed a man in hunting camouflage and wearing a black ski mask.
“Shut up,” he growled. Again he clamped a hand over her mouth. She wiggled and twisted, trying desperately to free herself. But his unrelenting hold squeezed tighter. Her lungs burned with the need for air. Her vision dimmed, and panic swelled in her chest.
Oh God, I don’t want to die!
Chapter Nine
Reyn sat on Gram’s front porch steps and raked his fingers through his damp hair. Giving in to Olivia’s tempting offer of sex had been foolish and costly. Now he knew what he was missing. Now he knew the satiny feel of her skin and the dizzying sensation of her legs wrapped around him. He knew how her soft moans of pleasure inflamed him and—
A scream rang from the woods and startled a mourning dove from its roost on Gram’s clothesline. Alarm prickled the back of his neck.
Curiosity killed the cat.
“Olivia!” He sprang from the porch and sprinted toward the woods. Low-hanging limbs slapped his face and chest. He stumbled twice, tripped by the vines and roots in the path. But he didn’t slow his pace. He couldn’t.
Instinct told him Oli
via’s scream didn’t mean she’d seen a snake. When he reached the bayou, he staggered to a stop and scanned the surface of the water. He saw nothing, not a ripple, not a flash of color indicating where she might be. Over the thundering of his heart, he heard leaves rustle in the woods.
“Olivia!” He darted into the trees, following the path to her house. “Olivia, answer me!” He squinted in the bright sun that peeked between the branches, occasionally blinding him. Shielding his eyes, he spotted a commotion ahead of him.
His gut pitched. Someone had Olivia.
Horror washed through him, chilled him to the marrow. He poured on every ounce of speed he had, leaping over a fallen tree. “Let her go!”
The masked man jerked his head toward Reyn when he shouted.
Releasing her, the man fled to a nearby four-wheeler.
Olivia crumpled to the ground.
Reyn rushed to her and dropped to his knees at her side. “Olivia, are you…all right?”
He panted for breath while raking his gaze over her, looking for evidence of injury. She, too, gasped for breath. The bastard had been smothering or choking her. She raised a shaky finger and pointed toward the man, escaping on his four-wheeler.
“Stop him,” she rasped.
He glanced over his shoulder at the man who was getting away, and anger boiled inside him. With the other man’s lead on the four-wheeler, Reyn couldn’t catch the attacker now. And he wouldn’t leave Olivia until he was certain she was all right.
Smoothing her hair back from her face, he met her wild, frightened eyes, and his chest tightened. “Are you hurt?”
Tears hovered on her lashes, but she blinked them back. “He would have killed me if you hadn’t—”
He drew her into his arms and held her close. “Did you recognize him?”
“No,” she mumbled into his chest. “His face was covered. I was so scared that I didn’t think about—” Her voice broke.
“Shh. It’s okay.” He hugged her closer, and a tremor shook him. After a moment, he gently pushed her away, scanning her body again for bruises or cuts. “Can you stand? Do you need a doctor?”
“Yes and no. I’ll be fine…in another minute. I just need to…catch my breath…and quit shaking.”
He heaved a ragged sigh then clenched his teeth. “That settles it. You’re out of this investigation.”
Fire flared in her eyes. “Not a chance! I want to help catch that jerk.”
“Are you out of your mind? He just tried to kill you. What makes you think he won’t try again?”
Olivia jutted out her chin, though he saw shadows of trepidation in her eyes. “I won’t let him intimidate me. We have to find this guy and make him pay for what he’s done. To me and to your mother.”
For all her foolish stubbornness, he admired her guts, her loyalty. He balled his hand in a fist to stop himself from drawing her chin up to kiss her pouting, defiant mouth.
“No arguments. You’re out. This is my fight. And we’ll let the sheriff look into finding the guy who attacked you.”
“Reyn,” she started, her disagreement blazing from her gold eyes. He held up a hand to forestall her protest.
“And I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know that maniac is caught.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Kinda hard to keep me out of the investigation and keep me in your sight at the same time.”
Her expression was smug, and he grimaced. Damn it, she was right. “Okay, you win. But I am going to stick close to you. I don’t want anything like this to happen again.”
She didn’t answer, but her gaze lowered to his lips and lingered there. Her pupils dilated like those of a cat ready to pounce. Heat swirled through him. He knew she was thinking the same thing that echoed through his mind. How the hell were they supposed to spend every minute together and keep their hands to themselves? Just looking at her, seeing the haze of desire darken her eyes to the color of whiskey, had him ready to spontaneously combust. It took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to cover her with his body and finish what they’d started at the bayou.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” she said, her voice husky.
“Too bad. You’ve got one.”
Pursing her lips in an irritated frown, she dusted off her shorts. “Does that mean you’re going to class with me tonight?”
“Looks like.”
“Then get the lead out, hot stuff. I don’t want to be late.” With that, she started toward her house.
Reyn caught her arm. “We still have to report this attack to the sheriff.”
Her shoulders drooped, and she sighed. “I know.”
He followed her back to her house, where they called the sheriff and waited on her porch swing for an officer to arrive.
Sheriff Anders responded to their call a few minutes later. “Looks like whoever left that threatening note tried to make good on it, eh?” The sheriff slipped off his sunglasses as he stepped into the shade of the porch. “That should make things easy. We have a report back on the fingerprints from the note.”
Olivia cast a quick glance to Reyn.
“And?” Reyn prompted.
“Besides your prints and hers, most of what we got was smudged. ’Cept one. Belongs to Hank Harrison.”
“Hank?” Olivia gasped. “There has to be some mistake. He wouldn’t—” She turned toward Reyn, her face drawn, and he knew she was remembering his deductions from a few nights before. The missing marker. Hank’s knowledge that the threat was in a note.
Olivia shook her head violently, crimson staining her cheeks. “The man who grabbed me was not Hank. Wrong height, wrong voice, wrong everything. Hank didn’t do this. He wouldn’t—”
“He could have hired someone,” the sheriff interrupted.
“No!” Her eyes flashed angrily. “There is some other explanation for his fingerprint on that note. Hank is not a threat to me. He’s family.”
Reyn clenched his teeth. As much as he respected, admired Olivia’s dedication and love for her family, he knew firsthand that sometimes family members failed. Sometimes family loyalty wasn’t enough. He prayed her blind faith in her stepfather didn’t end up getting her killed. If he had anything to say about it, she’d never get the chance to test her theory.
“One way to find out. Let’s talk to Hank, get your statement, take a look at the scene of the attack.” The sheriff took out a pen and a notepad, and Olivia ushered him inside.
Hank pressed his mouth in a tight grimace. He swiped a hand over his face with a sigh, sinking back in the living room couch.
“Yeah. I left the note. I was trying to scare you away from this nosing around you’re doing.” He turned to the sheriff’s deputy and aimed a finger at him. “But I had nothing to do with this attack on her. You heard Mel say I was at the auto shop. My time card will show that and so will Mrs. Skinner. She was hovering over me the whole time I was working on her car…like she knew squat about spark plugs,” he grumbled.
Olivia’s mind whirled. She squeezed her hands in tight fists. Hank left the note? Reyn’s instincts had been right, but she’d been blinded to the truth by her stubborn pride. Hank was family. Never mind that he claimed to have done it to scare her away from the investigation of Claire’s death. Never mind that in some convoluted way he thought he was protecting her. Hank had frightened her, broken her car window, toyed with her emotions. Fury burned her gut.
Hank turned to her, an apology in his eyes. “Jelly Bean, I’m sorry. It’s just that after I left the diner that morning you approached us, I started thinking about the hostilities you stirred up and…and the timing of some things.”
She avoided Reyn’s gaze, afraid she’d see an I-told-you-so look that would only infuriate her more.
“If what you say is right,” Hank continued, “your daddy died before he finished investigating the Erikson fire. I may be way off here. I mean, nobody asked questions when he died—at least not that I recall…but hell, Liv, I just got a bad feeling and I thought…maybe
it wasn’t an accident.”
“Why not just talk to me about it? Why scare the bejeezus out of me and break my windshield?”
“I’ve told you a hundred times, I’ll help you buy a new car. Something more reliable.”
“I don’t want help buying a new car. I’ll do it on my own or not at all. Just answer my question. Why the threat?”
Hank pressed his mouth in a grim line and glanced at Reyn before answering. “I didn’t think you’d listen to me if I just warned you away. In all your years, you’ve never followed my advice. Not about your car, not about going away for school, not about Billy Russell or—”
“All right, you’ve made your point.” Slapping her hands on her legs, she rose from the couch. “Well, now that one mystery is solved, I’ll leave you gentlemen to catch the creep who jumped me in the woods.” Her tone could have frozen lava. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m late for class.”
“Do you think it’s a good idea to go to class tonight after what happened in the woods?” Hank asked.
She spun to face him. “Yes. I think it’s an excellent idea. I refuse to let you or anyone manipulate or terrorize me. I will not be bullied into submission.”
No one spoke for a moment as she divided her angry glare among the three men in the living room.
“I’m going to class with her.” Reyn spoke quietly, his tone calm but adamant. “In fact, I plan to stick real close to her until this guy is caught.”
She gritted her teeth. She’d almost forgotten her self-appointed bodyguard. With a huff, she headed out to her car. “Fine. Come if you insist. It’s your time you’re wasting.”
She jerked the front door open and heard the sheriff give a long, low whistle. “That’s one hot little firecracker you got there, Harrison.”
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