He snatches the black hood for himself, and a dark chuckle drums in his chest. “Return of the Peacock Princess and the Masked Man.” A dangerous smile expands on his lips.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any rope lying around, would you?”
Shep loosens his tie aggressively until it comes undone. “I’ve got something that will work just fine.”
Then he’s on me again with those heated kisses. Shep’s tongue works me over until it feels as if my mouth goes numb from the pleasure of it all. He leads me blindly to his bedroom and flicks on the light, landing us onto the cool comforter of his bed, a white duvet filled with down feathers—so not what I pictured his chamber of lust to look like. Shep carefully pulls my dress over my head and lands it gently to the floor, his eyes stuck on mine—and props to him, considering that strapless number he just plucked off had a built-in shelf bra. And now that the girls are free, I’m ten times more electrified than I was before. His eyes drift down my torso, and his lips rise on the sides with approval. I take his warm, thick hands and lead them over my body, encouraging him to explore all of my newly exposed places and he does.
The heat builds between us like a furnace, and I pull him in by the back of the neck, diving my mouth back over his where it belongs. The scent of his skin, the whiskey, that heady cologne of his sets my skin on fire with lust and wanting. My fingers get to work, fiddling with those stubborn buttons, evicting his shirt, unbuckling his belt, yanking open his pants, and I stop abruptly.
“I don’t want to see your face,” I pant, hardly able to contain my excitement. In record time, Shep has his hood in place, and I my feathers—and before you can say beg, borrow, or steal, he has my hands roped behind my back and attached to the bedpost with his tie. Something in me knew that a deviant like Shep had a post at the edge of his bed to secure his prey. If I had to guess, this was definitely not his first triple-X rodeo.
His kisses soften just a bit. He’s doing something with his arm, slapping the nightstand, opening drawers, and then it hits me.
OH MY GOD, HE’S GOING FOR A CONDOM! This just hit DEFCON 1.
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Now what? Now West Virginia pays for my foray into whiskey and organic raw honey. Damn those bitter brides for showing up and ushering me into an era of murder and S and M. Wait a minute…
Shep cups my cheeks sweetly in his palms and kisses me tenderly, so very sweetly I moan from the pleasure of it. This right here is what that darn drink should taste like. Shep and his hot honey kisses are enough to drive traffic to any licensed liquor establishment. But right now, I don’t want to share an ounce of this man. He’s all mine, and in a few moments, I’ll be all his in ways I never expected.
His hands drip down my body, heated and deliberate, as his fingers work themselves into my flesh, offering a soft massage, and it feels like heaven. Shep takes a gentle bite out of my lip, pulling it out and nibbling me senseless with his kisses. There is something intimate and moving about this moment between us. When you think about it, I practically grew up with Shep in my life. He was the annoying brother I never had—Marlin was already out of the house by the time I was ten, and for the record, he has never annoyed me—with the exception of this moment, niggling in the back of my mind while I’m with my dream man.
My dream man?
Wow.
Those are loaded words. But you know what? Shepherd Collins is—and if I’m honest—always has been the man of my dreams.
His tongue lashes over mine, and we both moan at the very same time, pulling away just enough to look into one another’s drugged eyes.
A terrible banging sound emanates from the front door, and on cue our eyes widen with horror.
Shep relaxes his lips back to mine. “They’ll go away.” He trails his juicy kisses right to my ear, but the knocking starts up again, and this time there’s the muffled cry of voices to go along with it.
“You’d better get that.” My adrenaline kicks in ten times harder at the thought of a lunatic trying to storm their way in.
Shep jumps to his feet, snatching his mask off and buttoning his pants in haste. “I’ll be right back.” He stalks off to the rhythm of the jackhammering taking place.
I can’t imagine who that could be. What the hell kind of friends does Shep have, anyway? That ex-girlfriend I met back at the Black Bear comes to mind. Was it really a coincidence that we met that psycho on the night of the murder? I’m beginning to think not.
The sound of voices float down the hall, and I lean in as much as my bound wrists will allow. Shep certainly paid attention in Boy Scouts when it came to his knots. It’s becoming painfully clear—I’m not getting out of these restraints on my own without losing my hands at the wrist. And, seeing that I enjoy the little things in life, such as wiping my own bottom and turning the pages of a paperback on occasion, in no way am I willing to sever an appendage.
A woman’s voice hikes to the ceiling.
Knew it! It’s the psychotic ex, and she’s here to finish off Shep like she tried but failed by a Barry-Larson-mile the night I accidentally stumbled upon a homicide gone wrong. Dear God, she’s going to smell the sex on him, and then she’ll sense my presence the way most psychotics do and come back and shoot me in the chest several times the way she did poor Dirty Boy! I’m going to die naked and tied to a bed with a silly mask fashioned of bird feathers—alone. Not even my dignity will be left to comfort me.
An involuntary yelp escapes me as the visual of my impending death replays like a B-movie gone awry. How is this my life?
“What’s that sound?” the female asks as her voice grows with intensity. “Is someone here?” The clatter of high heels heads in this direction, and in lieu of hiding under the covers, I opt to hold my breath. Dear God, don’t let this hurt. I swear I will spit shine your heavenly shoes, sweep the gold dust off your streets. Heck, I volunteer to be the caretaker of every peacock south of the rainbow bridge if you allow me to survive this fiasco!
Shep grumbles something, and it almost sounds as if he’s arguing with another man.
“Don’t you tell me what to do,” the woman snips, and the hair on the back of my neck rises as if trying to crawl right off my body.
Wait a minute—I recognize that snippy, hostile, bitter as brass balls voice.
A redheaded terror pokes her head into the room and lets out a hard groan before bouncing back out.
Holy crap. It’s not Shep’s psycho ex-girlfriend—it’s my psycho sister, Lex!
She shouts something garbled to Shep about a naked, masked coed tied to a bedpost before her heels clack back this way. “Wait a minute! Is that Serena’s purse?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he says it cool, yet evasive. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen about twelve girls on campus with one just like it.”
Good going, Shep. Way to think on your feet.
“That’s Serena’s phone case.” Rumbling noises ensue. “So help me God, if this is Serena’s,” she roars as footsteps scurry back in this direction.
No, no, no!
I struggle to free myself as Lex storms into the room with Shep and Axel hot on her heels. Axel takes one look at the bouncing states just north of West Virginia and grunts his way right back down the hall.
“Serena?” Lex hobbles over as if she were injured and whips off my mask. “Oh my God!” she howls so loud one might think she just took a bullet. “Your brother is a pervert, Axel!” Lex is quick to toss a blanket over me and free my wrists in less than three seconds flat. When it comes to rescuing her baby sister, there ain’t no Boy Scout on the planet whose knot could prosper.
Shep drops his head as Lex plucks me off the bed and whisks me into the living room.
Lex gives my shoulders a good rattle. “What in the hell are you thinking?”
I grimace at the three horrified faces staring back at me. Of course, Shep is horrified for quite another reason. I’m pretty sure Lex isn’t leaving without his balls in her handbag.
“I d
on’t know what I was thinking!” I hop free of my sister’s demonic grip. “Shep is my professor. This was for school,” I wail without really putting too much thought into it. Deep, deep regret. “It’s extra credit,” I say weakly, mostly to amuse Shep, but according to the size of his eyes, that’s backfired, too.
Lex moans as if I just kicked her in the gut as she turns to Shep, slow and filled with a seething hatred so palpable never has anyone ever been hated more in all the world.
“How dare you use your position of power to lure my poor, sweet, virgin of a sister into your lair where you stripped her naked and tied her up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey! To a bedpost no less!” She attempts to dive her way to Shep—presumably to claw his eyes out—and yet Axel intercepts.
“Virgin?” Shep practically mouths the word my way.
“Yes,” I hiss. “What did you think? That I was some frat house hussy? I’m not giving away West Virginia for free, you know.”
Lex gives an indignant huff. “I don’t know jack about West Virginia. But you were certainly about to give it all away for free with a side of stuffing and gravy. You were hogtied, for God’s sake! Is that how you want your first time to go down?” She sucks in a quick breath. “My God, it didn’t go down, did it? You two didn’t…” Her fingers do a quirky little dance between us, symbolizing the obscene.
“No,” I’m quick to defend my feathered honor. “We were just getting to the good part when the two of you busybodies rammed in here as if you were on a vaginal recognizance mission.”
Both Lex and Axel cringe at that one as I hop my way to Shep’s side in this oversized cape Lex has swaddled me in.
“I’m going to have sex with Shep, and neither of you is going to stop me!” I bellow, and all the color bleeds out of my sister’s face as she grows white-hot with rage.
Shep clears his throat and takes a meager step back. “Now let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We hadn’t gotten that far in the evening and who knows—”
Lex stalks her way forward. “Oh, you shut up.” She might be talking to him, but her beady, angry eyes never leave mine. “Get your things. You’re coming home with us.”
“The hell I am,” I shout it loud and clear, and even the neighbor’s dog across the street gives a howl of approval. “I’m staying and surrendering my West Virginia to this man right here.” I accidentally point to Axel before twitching my finger to the next testosterone-laden being in this room.
Lex gags and indulges in a wild blinking spree.
Shep steps in and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Maybe we should talk about this.”
“Oh, shut up, Shep!” I take an aggressive step toward my sister. “Instead of happily losing my virginity on this fine evening, you’ve turned this entire night into a dumpster fire. You may never tell me who I can and can’t bed because I am not a child. I am a grown woman who—”
Lex cuts me off at the pass. “Who lets a man—who by the way is in an authoritative position, manipulate you into disguising yourself with feathers, then displays you on his bed like roped cattle!”
“Enough!” Axel scissors his hands in a quick referee-like motion. “Lex, she’s a grown woman. If she wants to sleep with my pervert of a brother, so be it.” He takes a moment to glare at Shep. “But that’s not what we came for.” He pulls Lex in, and they speak wordlessly to one another with their eyes. It’s eerie, but Lex and Axel have always indulged in that telepathic communication style reserved for better halves the world over.
“What is it?” My heart thumps into my throat, and I come close to vomiting it out. “Did something happen to Sunday? To the baby?”
“No,” Lex reassures me with a softer tone, but those eyes of hers still let me know she’s beyond livid. “It’s about the murder investigation. They’ve cleared the transient of any wrongdoing.”
Axel takes a breath. “They have another set of suspects they’re looking into.”
I clutch my chest in anticipation. “Who are they?”
Lex looks from Shep to me. “It’s the two of you. Congratulations, Shep and Serena. There’s another fine mess you’ve dragged yourself into. You’re at the top of the suspect list.”
Shepherd
Suspects.
It took another hour for Lex and Axel to take off, but only because Lex insisted she wasn’t leaving without her sister—the virgin. Holy hell, what in the heck was I thinking? A virgin? It’s been so long since I’ve felt the need to ask anyone that it honestly never crossed my mind. But, of course, she is. Under that tough girl exterior, under that gorgeous exterior, Serena Maxfield is a sweet, innocent girl—one I was all too eager to defile.
I knew I shouldn’t have had that extra glass of wine with dinner. And then, shooting whiskey like it was a fountain drink once I got home didn’t help either. But as much as I’d like to blame it on the booze, there was a far more biological reason I was unstoppably determined to have her. I’m attracted to Serena—and not just physically. There’s an emotional connection there as well.
The truth is, I could have walked into the Black Bear, or The Sloppy Pelican for that matter if I really wanted to get the job done, and there were probably a plethora of women willing to close the deal. But I’ve never been that way. I’m not wired to thrust my way through every dry spell. I need meaning behind the madness, only then am I truly where I want to be.
I thought I had that with Carmella. Carm and I fit into a nice, neat box. Same education, same friends, same tastes in music, food, and movies, and yet something about the two of us felt forced. I can’t say it wasn’t a relief when she announced we should see other people. Being with her was like a dizzying carousel I couldn’t get off of, couldn’t quite break the gravitational pull. Hell, I never put the effort in. I got comfortable. We both did. Sure, my ego took a hit when she chose that drowned rat over me, but to hell with it. I’ve moved on. Haven’t I? And have I moved on with Serena of all people?
My gut grinds as if it’s true. A part of me desperately wants it to be true. Despite our banter, there has always been a playful undercurrent of affection. At least on my part. And just having her in my life again has made it that much brighter. With Serena around, it’s as if everything that was crooked is suddenly straight. I’ve been thinking about her nonstop since that fated, deadly night—wanting to comfort her, wanting to simply be near her to have her comfort me. But I can’t get a good read on her feelings.
Is she really that into me and what we could have together, or am I simply a means to an end? An able body ready and willing to invade West Virginia? I bow my head into my hands a moment as a body falls into the booth across from me.
The Sloppy Pelican isn’t where I wanted to be this afternoon, but Marlin insisted we meet up to discuss the case before Serena and I are taken in for further interrogation. The place is teeming with people looking to escape the summer heat. The AC is on high, and the scent of fresh fried everything fills my senses. Usually I’m up for eating the entire left side of the menu, but my appetite has dwindled considerably no thanks to last night.
I hate that Axel and Lex barged in like that. I feel terrible for Serena. I texted her for an hour after she was hauled out of there, apologizing profusely for my behavior. I’m sure Lex is putting together a rock solid legal case that will land me in the most violent prison in the country. I have no doubt I’ll pay dearly for what I’ve put her sister through.
“Morning, sweetie,” a female voice calls from behind, and I’m both stunned and afraid to see Serena landing in the seat beside me. Her hair is lively as it springs over her shoulders as if it too were glad to see me. She’s donned a pair of denim shorts so very short that I’m sure they qualify as a swimsuit somewhere in the world. And that white tank top she’s paired it with shows off a bright pink bikini top underneath. It looks as if she just dropped by on her way to the beach. I’d love to join her if I didn’t think it would lead to getting my man parts chopped off by her sister—or her brother. I’m pretty sure that’s set
to happen regardless.
Marlin takes off his hat and tips it her way. “Hey, hey, the gang’s all here.”
It is quickly becoming apparent that Marlin Maxfield has zero clue that I had his baby sister tied to my bed last night, naked, her face cleverly disguised with feathers. Because if he did, I’m sure that whole hey, hey routine would have ended in gunfire.
Serena wraps her leg around mine underneath the table, and I shoot her a quick glance. But she’s not looking at me. She’s staring dead ahead at her brother.
“What’s up, big bro? This sounded serious.”
“Yes, it is”—he looks incredulous that she had to point it out—“I’m surprised Axel and Lex didn’t stop by last night and fill you in like they said they would.” Marlin is the exact representation of his sisters in male skin, older, far more unruly with his hair a little longer than it probably should be, his three-day scruff going every which way, but he shares the same green eyes, his hair a touch less crimson. In fact, it looks black as pitch from this vantage point. And on top of all that, he’s only slightly less unhinged than Lex. I don’t think I’d peg Serena with the cerebral slight, but then, I haven’t been introduced to every facet of her yet. I’m hoping that side doesn’t exist.
Serena and I exchange a brief glance. Neither of us says a word.
“Anyway”—Marlin nods to the waitress who brings us each a glass of lemonade—“I talked to my buddy in homicide, and they’re reviewing the footage of you and Barry Larson having a tussle at the door that night.”
Serena shakes her head furiously. “It wasn’t a tussle. We bumped into one another, and a few insults were exchanged.”
I can’t help but grunt and shed a greasy grin. “Sounds like a typical Friday night for you.”
Her foot taps hard over mine like a punishment, and as much as I hate to admit it, I think I like where this is headed.
“Nevertheless”—Marlin lifts a finger—“they said the footage showed something.” He points to his sister. “That’s your cue, darlin’, to fill me in on what comes next. I hate looking stupid in front of my friends in blue. If you’re keeping something from me, now is the time to share it.”
Summer Breeze Kisses Page 72
