JoJo was quiet for a time and Mark realized how insensitive he’d sounded. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t. You’re right. Tell me what Ben said.”
“Someone has been inside the Anderson home. Broke the lock on the back door, but stole nothing. Some dust under pictures in the foyer had been disturbed. Someone was looking at a picture of Anderson with Sally—the daughter he molested—on his lap.”
“Well, when I called the mental facility was closed. I’ll call again in the morning. I also checked on Sean. According to the motel owner where he last stayed, he did leave on a catch. Put a few things in the motel’s safe for storage. Not that it means much. He still could have bailed on his ship at the last minute. I’m not going to be able to get access to the major airlines’ passenger lists to see if I can track him on any flights out of Anchorage, but he would have needed a private plane to get off the smaller islands. I’ll look into that.”
Mark shook his head. “I’m not feeling Sean. Sean knows his father was a molester, if not a murderer. The person who would direct their anger at me and not at Jack Anderson is someone who has to deny what Anderson was, what he did to his daughter. It’s the only way I become the villain, a target of revenge.”
“A daughter for a father.”
“A little biblical for my tastes, but yes. I uncovered the truth and because I did, Anderson killed himself. Someone is upset enough by that to come after my daughter.”
“Which means we need to take a harder look at the Anderson family in general. Cousins, aunts, uncles. Friends of the family. Anyone who might have never believed what Anderson did to his daughter.”
“Yep. We’ll get started tomorrow.” He patted her leg, innocently, but as soon as his hand found her body a bolt of lust shot through his body. He decided he was a sick human being. His daughter in jeopardy. A case up in the air. A woman who didn’t even know what she wanted from him sexually and still he was lusting after her like a teenager with no control.
He stood and rubbed his hands against his jeans as if he could erase the memory of what it felt like to touch her.
“We’ll talk tomorrow. Determine a plan of attack.”
JoJo nodded, but she didn’t say anything. Instead she was staring at him as if he had the answer to a very important question. Mark felt devoid of answers.
“Okay,” he said. “See you.”
“Mark?”
He stopped on his path to his room, but he didn’t look at her. He was fairly certain that if he turned and looked at her he would end up picking her up, taking her to his room and laying her down on his bed. The thought of sinking into her, letting her take his weight, being connected to her in a way he couldn’t ever remember was so tempting it made his whole body ache.
“Yeah?”
“I would be willing to take…you, I mean. If you wanted to give.”
His head dropped to his chest. There it was. Such a perfect invitation. She was offering. He wasn’t seducing. There would be no guilt. Only pleasure. For him certainly. For her hopefully.
Mark went to her and crouched in front of where she sat on the couch. So still. So brave.
He reached up and cupped her face, then dropped his hand to her neck and rubbed the evidence of her conviction to remain removed from the world in a very significant way.
“Please, I have maybe an ounce of goodness in me. Let me use it tonight. Let me be noble.”
“You look so…lonely. So lost. I don’t like it.”
It felt like a sharp blow to his chest. Because she was right. He was lonely. But he did that to himself.
“And you would keep me company?”
After a pause, she nodded slowly.
“JoJo Hatcher, you are the most amazing woman I have ever known.” He raised himself so he could press his lips to hers. They were soft and giving and her taste was everything he remembered. But he had to let her go. He had to. For his own sanity. “But you’re not ready for this and there is that last ounce of goodness. I will see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
He nodded and straightened. “Okay.”
“Mark?”
“Yes.”
She shrugged. “I think you have more than an ounce.”
It wasn’t a night of unbridled passion, but it made him feel like a king nonetheless.
He brushed his fingers against the softness of her cheek and somehow, somewhere in what he thought was a cold and unfeeling heart, found the strength to walk way.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JOJO STARED UP at the ceiling, seeing nothing. Sophie was sound asleep in the bed next to her making deep-breathing noises that came close to snoring, but were too gentle.
JoJo hadn’t heard that sound in thirteen years.
Thirteen years since she’d lost her sister, her best friend and eventually her entire family.
Not to mention her ability to ever have a family in the future. To have a family you needed to be willing to have a relationship with a man. To have children you had to be willing to risk loving someone unconditionally.
She’d set herself up as an outcast and thought that was the way she wanted it. A single room in college, spending all her money on a one-room loft in the city instead of trying to live with someone. Keeping all her professional colleagues at a distance.
Even keeping all the people she called friends at a distance.
She thought she was content with how she was living her life, and maybe she was, until she met Mark. Now she knew that it could be different. If she wanted it to be.
“What a joke,” she whispered to the ceiling.
Sophie took another breath and gurgled another release of breath. JoJo closed her eyes as tears leaked out and dripped down into her hair.
She hadn’t even realized, hadn’t considered…how much she had missed that sound.
The sound of life. So close. So connected.
When Mark suggested the sleeping arrangements, she hadn’t even balked. Thinking about it now, that was odd for her. Yes, it made sense for her to stay with Sophie so she could provide around-the-clock protection, but she could have asked for a connecting room. But no, it had to be total protection. That it wasn’t even awkward was a testament to how well they got along.
It should have been.
They weren’t friends of the same age. JoJo was her father’s employee. It should have been incredibly odd for both of them to get changed into their pajamas while the other was in the bathroom brushing her teeth. Sharing shampoo and toothpaste.
And mascara, as JoJo had noticed that Sophie’s eyelashes had thickened earlier this afternoon.
Even when they changed hotels, not sharing one of the suite rooms had become unthinkable. They were officially roomies.
JoJo turned her head and stared at the lump on the bed. So completely trusting. No thoughts about anyone bad in the world who wanted to hurt her. Someone who had followed her to Chicago to send another note. JoJo wanted to shake Sophie until she woke and tell her how wrong she was. How there were so many bad people who could do horrible, horrible things to a teenage girl.
Instead JoJo let her sleep. The burden of knowing what was out there was hers to hold alone.
No, she thought. Not just hold. Clutch. Imprison. Lock away. Until all the pain and all the fear and all the knowledge of what could be comprised the sum total of all her parts.
Had she actually offered herself to Mark? Did she for a second believe he would take her up on it? In truth, she knew he wouldn’t. He liked to imagine he wasn’t the best man in the room. That he was darker and harder than anyone else. But he wasn’t. That was only one side. One side of so many, and all of his sides added up to yield a good man.
He’d looked so lost when he’d headed to his bedroom. As if he had nowhere else to turn and no one else to go to. As if he’d failed. Not just to protect Sophie, but to be the man he obviously wanted to be for his daughter.
She’d thought about holding him, comforting him. Letting him take comfor
t in her. She thought doing so would be noble.
Hell, she thought she was a damn sacrificial virgin.
That wasn’t entirely true. When he was being noble and refused her, that was what he didn’t realize. He didn’t understand that deep inside she wanted to be sacrificed. She wanted to be seduced. It would have been so easy, to have the decision taken away from her.
She wouldn’t be betraying Julia, she would simply be succumbing to charms of an impossibly sexy man. How could she be blamed for that? How could she let the guilt interfere with what she imagined would be incredible pleasure?
This time, when she closed her eyes there were no tears. Just the image of what Mark would look like without his shirt. Or his pants. How he would feel under her hands. What it would be like to have him touch her.
No, JoJo didn’t think that giving herself to Mark would in any way be a sacrifice. The problem was, he’d given her no out, no wiggle room to let him take control of the situation. Any choice she made was hers to own.
JoJo tossed back the covers of the bed and swung her legs around until her bare feet were touching the carpet. She could see the mound under the covers breathing deeply, if a little less quietly. She tried to imagine what Sophie would think if she knew that they had more in common than Sophie could possibly imagine. Two virgins: one girl, one woman.
No doubt that if Sophie knew, the girl would think her less fierce. Certainly less brave. Because there was a certain amount of bravery involved the first time. Knowing there would be pain, but choosing to act despite it.
JoJo wasn’t exactly certain when she had become such an extreme coward.
Standing, she felt as if her body was suddenly acting on its own accord. Like it knew where it wanted to go and what it wanted before she did. Soundlessly, she made her way across the room, opening and closing the door behind her without so much as a click of the knob.
Moonlight broke through the curtains and made patterns on the furniture and carpet as she walked the distance to the door to Mark’s bedroom. Standing in front of it, she could feel her heart rate accelerate. She couldn’t tell if it was from fear or excitement.
It wasn’t the sex that excited her. As good as he made her feel with just a kiss or a touch, she didn’t imagine the actual act would bring much feeling beyond some discomfort. It wasn’t the physical act, it was the idea of being changed. Of becoming more normal. Of maybe someday coming to understand that sex was okay. Pleasure was okay.
Being connected to someone, intimately, was okay.
JoJo opened the door and stepped into the room. This time she didn’t worry about the sound as she closed it behind her. She imagined she would need to wake him. Maybe even need to shake his arm or tug on his blankets, depending on how soundly he slept.
But as soon as she closed the door, his head turned in her direction. She could see his eyes in the moonlight, open and alert, staring at her.
“I want to do this.” Her voice was low, nearly broken. She tried again. “Please don’t send me away. I want to do this.”
For a moment he didn’t say anything. Instead he moved over to the other side of the bed and lifted the covers in invitation. She walked to the bed and, looking down on him, she felt a crazy need to groan a little.
He wasn’t wearing a T-shirt. His chest was covered with dark hair that swirled around his nipples and the defined muscles of his pecks and abs.
“Are you wearing shorts?”
“No.”
Which meant he was naked. All the way. Under the blanket. She’d never acted like such a virgin in her life. She even crossed an arm over her stomach and took hold of her other wrist.
“Take off your clothes.”
Right, she thought. Because that was how it had to happen. Him all the way naked. Her all the way naked. She shuffled her feet.
“I don’t want you naked so I can look at you,” he said, even as he reached over and turned on the light. “Although I will very much enjoy seeing you. This is for you. You need to come to me naked. No barriers, Jo.”
Reaching over, she turned off the lamp. But when she straightened, she pulled her T-shirt up and over her head. With no bra, she knew he could see her shape. The curve of her breasts. Then, before she could think about it, she pushed down her cotton pajama bottoms and stepped out of them, too.
She didn’t like wearing underwear to bed, so there was nothing. Just the curve of her waist, the weight of breasts. Her bottom and thighs. The dark blond swirl of curls between her legs, which always reminded her she wasn’t a brunette.
“You’re beautiful.”
She shrugged and swallowed and wondered whether he would chase after her if she ran from the room. Probably not. So instead of running she kneeled on the bed and stretched out on her side, facing him.
She could see his nose and his eyes and his chin. She could instantly feel his body heat. Or was her nervous agitation causing her to flush?
She saw his hand move and wondered what he might touch first. His palm rested on her cheek. For the briefest moment, she thought she felt his hand trembling. Oddly, it gave her some comfort.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. One hundred percent.” It wasn’t a lie. She felt trepidation, anxiety and anticipation. She still wasn’t absolutely certain she wasn’t going to run, but she knew without a doubt that she wanted this.
Wanted him.
“I don’t know…how good it might be for you….”
Mark chuckled. “Sweetheart, I’m not a virgin. And even if I was, here is a nasty little fact. It’s always good for men.”
“I just meant…”
“I know what you meant. Now hush and let me handle this. I’ve never taken a virgin before and I’m scared out of my mind.”
She cupped his cheek in her palm. “Don’t be scared. You can do it.”
His eyes met hers and she saw a promise in them. One that excited her. Then his gaze was moving up and down her body, but more with an assessing manner than an admiring one.
“I’m not a turkey you’re going to carve up.”
“The beginning is the same. It’s a question of where to start on such delicious flesh.” He moved toward her and she was overcome again by the heat of him. As if he was a living fire that would consume her.
One hand slipped over her waist and settled on her back. The other he used to prop his head on his fist. She waited for him to start but he seemed to content to let his eyes drift over her face. She was about to force some kind of action when he bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.
She liked that. Then he teased her lips with his until she opened her mouth and his tongue was dipping inside. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, so she kept them to herself. One under the pillow, the other laying along her side. But she figured it was appropriate to touch him and after fifteen years of curiosity, now was a pretty good chance to find out what a man felt like. The first place she wanted to go was down low.
She was finally about to meet the Penis.
As she reached down, he broke the kiss and turned onto his back. “Hold on.”
She waited a few breaths, hoping he would turn back toward her. When he didn’t, she grew worried. “You’re not chickening out, are you?”
“No,” he groaned, his forearm covering his face. “Will you just give me a minute? This is a big deal.”
“Yeah. For me!”
He turned back to her, his face serious. “Is that what you think? That this isn’t a big deal for me, too? Then you’re wrong. It is. I’m just… I’m really… I don’t want to scare you.”
“I’m a virgin, not an idiot. I know what’s down there.”
“Yes, but you don’t know how much. Let’s try this first.”
He took her hand and placed it around his back. She could feel his body tighten and then relax. Then he circled her waist again and nudged her closer until their knees touched, then their thighs, then their middles. Until her breasts were pressed into his chest and his lips w
ere nuzzling the spot under her ear while she took in the depth and breadth of him.
His erection pressed against her belly. Long and thick and hard. Yes, maybe this was a better way to meet the Penis. She could let her body get used to it before she had to deal with the reality of it being inside her.
Her legs shifted and so did his until one heavy thigh was between her legs. He pressed it firmly against her and the pressure of his body there was thrilling, even more thrilling than his hand had been.
He rolled her slightly onto her back, but not all the way, and she was glad. She wasn’t ready to feel what it meant to have someone on top of her, covering her completely and pushing her into the mattress. Instead they were still mostly on their sides but her shoulder was turned away, which gave him access to her breasts.
He brought his hand up around her body, skimming her buttocks and back and stomach until it settled on her breast. He cupped her right boob and played with it. Stroked it and let his fingers dance around it until her nipple was hard and aching. She wanted him to touch that pointed nipple, pinch it. She’d read enough in books, seen enough in movies, she knew what was supposed to happen and she wanted to know how all of it felt.
But instead of feeling his fingers, he dropped his head and she felt his mouth. His tongue licked the hard flesh and her body shuttered in response. She could feel his thigh again right in the center of her. So firm and unforgiving. His penis, now slightly less foreign and mysterious, was still pressed into her belly like a massive elephant in the room that neither of them had any intention of discussing.
His mouth drew on her, sucked her in, and she could feel it all the way down her stomach and between her legs. Until his mouth shifted and he was sucking on her other breast. Lips and tongue. So wet and soft. But then there was the rough edge of his teeth. It was better than she’d imagined. So different from touching herself, when she knew what her moves would be in advance.
Mark was unpredictable. Where he touched her, where he kissed her, where he licked her.
Where he sucked on her.
Restless, she twisted her body to take in more. Her leg locked around his one heavy thigh and she pressed herself against him. It felt so good to do that she did it again, until she found an even rocking rhythm that matched his mouth on hers. The thrust of his tongue against hers.
For the First Time Page 19
