by BJ Wane
Picking up the bag of belongings he had gathered from the smoke-ruined apartment, she padded into the attached bathroom marveling at how far she’d come in such a short time. And all due to someone she never would have believed could slip past her shield of independence.
Nothing to do about it now except go forward, she mused as she went through the meager remains of clothing left to her. Two pairs of pants, jeans and slacks, one long-sleeved top, a tee shirt and a pullover sweater. The only underwear she now possessed were the ripped panties lying on the bedroom floor. “I’m a perv,” she muttered as a heated thrill swept through her that she denied aloud. “He might like to go commando, but not me.” First on her agenda today was a shopping trip into Billings. Make that second, she amended when her stomach growled.
Lillian helped herself to a shower and dressed in the jeans and top before opening her purse to see what make-up items she might still have inside. Right off she realized her phone was missing and prayed it had dropped out when Mitchell picked up her bag. She found him in the torn-apart kitchen, his cell to his ear as he flicked her an assessing, head-to-toe look before finishing his call.
“Thanks, Maggie. I’ll be in by noon. What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as he clicked off.
“You know, I may have come around to your way of thinking when it comes to sex, but I still dislike how you can read me with such accuracy. It’s just creepy.”
“Deal with it and answer my question.”
Okay, this part of his bossiness she did not care for. “Look, Mitchell…”
He stalked toward her but she held her ground, lifting her chin as he stood toe to toe with her. “Someone was upstairs with you, while you were sleeping, vulnerable to whatever crime he wanted to commit. Stow your objections to my officiousness until we figure out who, and why.”
Lillian took a deep, calming breath and nodded. Pointing out the danger to her last night of an even worse crime than breaking and entering doused her annoyance with the effectiveness of a splash of cold water to the face. “Fine, for now. My cell is missing. It probably fell out in the apartment. I need to get in and look for it.”
He shook his head with a frown. “I picked up your purse by the top and kept it closed, but we’ll check. If we don’t find it, our first stop is the sheriff’s office.”
“Don’t you have to get to work?” she asked as he steered her out the front door.
“Not for a few hours. The clinic’s receptionist is rescheduling my morning appointments. This, and you are more important.”
She tried not to read too much into that grumbled statement that gave her a warm fuzzy. They didn’t find her phone in the smoke-damaged apartment, or any clothing that didn’t reek to the point of rendering it unsalvageable, so they drove to the precinct where Grayson was waiting for them. “What’s on your phone that someone would take such a risk for?” Grayson questioned as he wrote down her information.
“There’s nothing of importance on it, no banking information or credit cards. I’m very careful about that, so it had to be random.”
“No, it didn’t.” Grayson leaned back in his chair, removed the toothpick from his mouth and dropped a bombshell on her. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Brad McCabe being in the hospital, recovering from a brain bleed caused by a concussion, would you?”
Shock drained the blood from Lillian’s face, and it was only Mitchell’s large hand closing over hers on the armrest of the chair that kept her grounded as she worked her mind around that startling information. “I had no idea,” she murmured. “I swear, he was fine when I left, maybe a little dazed, but good enough to continue his tirade against my leaving.” She looked from the sheriff to Mitchell, resigned to reliving that morning for their benefit. “My sister was pronounced brain dead that morning, following six weeks in a coma and…” She paused, refusing to mention Brad’s blackmail, the reason she stayed. “And I’d had enough, wanted out to be alone to grieve. You should understand that,” she said to Mitchell, her tone accusatory with frustration.
“Continue,” was all he said.
Shrugging, she gave them the bare bones. “He came home to find me packed up, ready to go except for two large paintings I was carrying downstairs. I wasn’t expecting him, but he’d heard about Liana. He came at me, the first time he ever went for my face, and I realized how far he was willing to go this time. After the kick to my ribs, I managed to get up and swing the one painting I still held at him. The frame caught his temple and he went down. I ran out with him well enough to curse me, able to get help if he needed it. That was weeks ago.”
There was no censure or criticism on either man’s face. Grayson kept writing as he replied, “Since that’s out of my jurisdiction, I can’t get a doctor’s report. I’m waiting to hear back from his brother, hoping he’ll be open to talking.”
Lillian scoffed. “Don’t count on it. Bryan idolizes his baby brother, covers for him every time Brad gets so much as a speeding ticket.” Pushing to her feet, she gave in to the need for fresh air. “I have things to do. Are we done here?”
“For now.” Grayson nodded at Mitchell and he clasped her hand again and led her out.
As soon as they stepped out of the small precinct, she rounded on him, insisting, “I’m fine, before you ask. If you’ll take me back to get my car, you can get to work.”
“After breakfast. So you know,” he added, setting out toward the diner, “you will eventually have to reveal the rest of the story between you and McCabe.”
Lillian didn’t reply. She had enough to think about to keep her on edge for a while.
Mitchell hated that cloud of shame that darkened Lillian’s eyes whenever he mentioned her ex. She wasn’t a meek woman, or gullible, which meant there was a reason she’d stayed with the bastard after the first abusive incident. He tried not to push her for answers – at first because it was none of his business and he had believed he would never see her again after she left his cabin. Since then, he’d been waging a battle with himself over his growing interest in her and how far he was willing to let it go. He never considered another committed relationship was in the cards for him, and had been content with being among the lucky few who got to spend years with that one special person everyone hoped they would meet.
After taking her back to his place, he drove to the clinic admitting he wanted it all again, this time with someone who was the complete opposite of his beloved Abbie and yet, perfect for him as much as his wife had been. Lillian would keep him on his toes, challenge his dominant side and fill the void Abbie’s death had left in his life. He didn’t question how he could love two such opposite women, not after learning the hard way how short life really was. He didn’t go looking for another relationship, but he wasn’t going to waste any more time denying what was staring him in the face after she’d come so close to real harm from that fire.
Mitchell went into his office before seeing the first patient and checked his calendar for the week. The clinic appointments were light, but he started his new once-a-week position as the on-call trauma surgeon at All Saints Hospital in Billings on Friday. As much as he had reaped the benefits of an easier, slower professional pace since relocating here, he had discovered he didn’t want to let his surgical skills lapse all together. Seeing no appointments scheduled as of yet on Wednesday afternoon, he blocked those hours off, planning to take Kurt up on his offer to bring Lillian out to the ranch for a ride. Leslie, a grade school teacher, was off this week for spring break, and the more he could aid Lillian in cultivating friendships here, the easier it would be to talk her into staying.
Between now and then, he was sure he could come up with a scene to take her mind off her troubles and demonstrate, once again, how much she enjoyed his sexual kinks.
For the first time since losing Abbie, Mitchell returned home after work without dreading the emptiness waiting for him. With signs of spring popping up came longer days and he found Lillian on the back porch perched in front of her
easel wearing a paint-splattered smock and sad expression. She looked up as he stepped outside and those expressive eyes masked whatever she had been thinking about as a small smile tilted the corners of her lips.
“What’s up, Doc?”
“My hunger.” It was his turn to grin when arousal swirled in her eyes. “For dinner first, pet.” She didn’t disappoint him when she scowled.
“Why must you continue using that ridiculous nickname? I’m not hungry. Go away.” She waved her hand, dismissing him and picked up a paint brush.
It was then he noticed how pale she was, the dark circles under her eyes. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he asked, “Are you feeling okay?”
She shrugged him off, irritation lacing her voice as she replied without pausing in brandishing the bright blue paint onto the canvas. “You’re not my doctor anymore, remember? You ditched me, so you don’t get to ask about my health.”
“It’s not ethical to sleep with a patient,” he returned, his cool rebuke drawing a flush over her face that looked better than the fatigue. That hadn’t been his main concern at the time but acknowledging his deeper feelings didn’t negate that motive.
A chagrined wince crossed her face. “I didn’t think of that.” The doorbell chimed and she flicked him a rueful glance, arching her head back. “That’s the pizza I ordered. I hope you like the works. It’s already paid for.”
Mitchell pivoted to go back inside, tossing over his shoulder, “Evasive truths are the same as lying and have consequences. I’ll get it.”
“Saying I’m not hungry when I am doesn’t count,” she argued to his back.
Lillian’s buttocks clenched at that threat regardless of his mild tone. Needing a few minutes to get herself together, she soaked her brushes and brought her supplies inside, putting everything in the spare bedroom. She heard Mitchell talking to the delivery person then the front door close as she strolled into his bedroom. Upon exploring the house after she returned from a shopping trip into Billings, she discovered the kitchen wasn’t the only room in the middle of a renovation. The second bathroom was stripped to the studs, leaving the master bath her only choice.
Her eyes went to the king size bed as she started across the room, the objects lying on the navy comforter halting her in her tracks with a heated stare. She took two steps closer before Mitchell appeared in the door, her nipples puckering in defiance of the rest of her going hot and then cold. Pointing, she demanded to know, “What is that?” She recognized the anal dildo, just not the other, odd thingy that was giving her conniptions.
“A vibrating butt plug.” An amused brow winged up as he gave her a bland look.
She released an exasperated breath. “The other thing. And you’re so not putting that fat object up my butt.”
“You liked the anal beads,” he reminded her.
Unable to deny that logic, she drew a breath for patience and replied slowly, “Those were a lot smaller and you took me by surprise. What is that wheel with pointed spokes?”
Walking over to the bed, he picked up the item that popped up goosebumps along her arms with one look, and not the good kind. “It’s an e-stim pinwheel. Don’t worry, I know how to use it safely, and where. Pizza’s getting cold.”
Electrical stimulation? A shiver went through her. It was unfair how good he was at stirring her curiosity and lust with a few words accompanied by one of those intent looks.
“Same goes for the plug. There’s an enema under the bathroom sink, if that’s a concern,” he tossed out casually.
Lillian didn’t embarrass easily, but the matter-of-fact way he said that made her face burn. Spinning around, she went into the bathroom and slammed the door, the deep rumble of his laugh defusing her abashed indignation. She’d just stepped under the hot spray of one showerhead in the spacious marbled shower when she heard the door open. Peering through the smokey glass, she watched Mitchell walk in and start undressing.
Her pulse jumped as he joined her, all six-foot-four inches of naked, lean muscled male, and she went damp with wanting him, whether he was right for her or not. “I thought you were hungry for food first.” She cast a pointed glance at his jutting erection.
Wrapping a hand around his cock, he stroked up and then down as he closed the shower door behind him and moved up to her. “I am, which is why I’m here to speed you along.” Reaching up with his free hand, he turned the spray to the side and picked up the soap, crowding her so close her back bumped the wall and his chest hair tickled her nipples.
Steam billowed around them as he released his brick-hard flesh and soaped his hands. There were definitely benefits to their new living arrangement, Lillian contemplated as he ran his sudsy palms over her breasts. “We’re going to be in here longer if you keep that up.”
“Not much longer. You have such sensitive nipples.” He pulled on the soapy buds, elongating her nipples before releasing them with a plop.
Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and let him have his way until he soaped her pubic curls then lifted her right leg, placing her foot on the corner seat. Lillian opened her eyes to watch him pick up a razor and recalled seeing several women at the club with shaved mounds, wondering what the draw was. It seemed more of a hassle than beneficial, but if that’s what he wanted before moving this along, she wouldn’t argue.
“I can do it. All you had to do was tell me.” She reached to take the razor from his hand but he held it out of her reach with a shake of his head.
“I know you can, but not this time.”
She narrowed her eyes but that implacable stare never wavered. “Has anyone ever said no to you?” she grumbled with an exasperated breath.
“My mother, and you. Hold still. I don’t want to nick you.”
Lillian braced her hands on his shoulders, reminding him, “I despise arrogant men.”
“You’re sounding like a broken record, pet.” Mitchell didn’t look up as he swiped the razor through the suds, removing a patch of red curls. Tightening her hands on his shoulders, she thought about kicking him until he drawled, “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“God, I hate that you can read me so well. All this fuss. Can’t we just have sex?”
“It’ll be worth it. Besides, I like to play.” He removed another swath and then another before running a finger over the newly bared skin, shocking her with the intense sensations that light touch unleashed.
“Holy shit!” she exclaimed.
He did glance up then, his damp hair clinging to his neck, his eyes sparking with amusement. “You should know by now how well I know women’s bodies.” His gaze turned serious, his look intense as he stated, “Stick with me, Lillian, and I’ll make sure you won’t regret it.”
Lillian wasn’t sure how much he meant by that statement, but the thrill that warmed her chest and curled her toes proved how effectively he had wormed his way past her guard. “I-I might have to give that some thought, Doc.”
“You do that. In the meantime, pizza’s getting cold.”
Mitchell tested her endurance as he finished ridding her of every pubic hair covering her labia and sprinkled between her buttocks. She was so turned on by the time he finished, she almost exploded in climax when he aimed the shower spray on her exposed, tender flesh and ran his hand from front to back, wiping away the suds. She jerked her hips, trying to press against his palm for relief, but he pulled back and turned off the shower before the tiny pulses inside her pussy could take wing and send her flying.
She opened her mouth to protest only to have him cover her lips with a stern rebuke. “One complaint and I’ll show you how painful orgasm denial can be. Now,” he dropped his hand and opened the shower door, “come on. I’m hungry.”
Since that threat lacked the same promise of titillation as a spanking, she buttoned her lips and let him engulf her in a large towel. “That’s my girl,” he murmured with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he rubbed her briskly from shoulders to feet and she remained silent. He tugged her out of the bathroom
and she vowed to get the upper hand at one of these encounters someday soon.
Mitchell saw her take in the pizza box on the bed next to the anal dildo, but she kept quiet and he would bet she was plotting to get even, somehow, someday. He looked forward to her trying. “Bend over so I can insert the plug,” he ordered, sliding his hands to press between her shoulders. Those dark eyes flared and her lips tightened before curling in a taunting smile as she braced her hands on the bed.
“Was it my threat that turned you so compliant?” he asked, picking up the already lubed toy and then spreading her cheeks.
“Nope. I’m hungry too.” To his surprise, she flipped open the box and picked up a slice of pizza while leaning on her other hand.
Amused, he chuckled, pushing the plug past the tight resistance of her sphincter as she took a bite, chewing slowing with low hums of pleasure as he worked the vibrator inside her. She’d just taken a second bite as he gave that last inch a hard push, the fully embedded toy shaking her enough she wheezed, trying to swallow.
“You’re not going to choke on me, are you?” He helped her up and handed her one of the sodas he’d brought in with the pizza.
Red-faced, she gulped it down, her eyes watering as she shuffled her feet. “That was uncalled for,” she growled, handing him back the can.
