Wicked and Dangerous
Page 7
Rachel stretched across the bed to pet the little hairball between his perky ears. The move exposed her breasts, and that’s all it took for his cock to go from half-awake to aching for action again. Wincing, he dragged in a calming breath. He had to give her pussy a break after he’d pounded her like a madman. Besides, while she was soft and sweet and sated would be a good time to ask her questions that might help him. Any information would be better than grasping in the dark.
“Valentino?” he asked. “Like the famous actor?”
“Yes. Like his namesake, Val seems to be well liked by the female felines in the neighborhood. The males . . . they turn their tails up at him. Val is also a little bit of a diva and likes his way. That’s a cat thing, but it’s even more of a Val thing. I found him as a stray when he was just a baby kitten. I was married to Owen, and he threw a fit. But I just couldn’t resist Val.”
That soft heart of hers again. Of course she’d take in a little runt with big green eyes that purred and rubbed against her leg. Rachel’s sweetness was part of her charm.
When had he last spent any time with a woman who had this kind of goodness? Probably during the Clinton administration. What did he know about family pets, nice girls, and comfortable beds? Jack squat. He needed to get his head on straight and do the job he’d come to do before he contemplated anything else. But what was there to think about? It wouldn’t be long before Xander and duty called, whisking him away. Rachel needed to fall for a great guy who would be there for her day in, day out. Not one who’d be jaunting off to another continent at a moment’s notice to stop the spread of industrial espionage or whatever shit S.I. Industries faced.
Even with all that running through his head, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing Rachel against him, kissing her forehead, then settling her face onto his shoulder. Her sigh of contentment made him harder.
“So, is Val the only friend who came with you from Florida?”
“Yes. After the divorce, Owen and I had a few ugly fights. My family lived nearby, and he tried to drag them into our dispute once. I didn’t love the principal of the school I worked for, and I couldn’t afford to stay in the house my ex-husband and I had bought together, so I started applying to schools all over the South. Lafayette Parish hired me.”
So if Owen lived in Florida, how could he have been in a bar in Lafayette yesterday, soliciting murder? It was possible. But likely?
But if he ruled the ex out, how many other suspects did he have? Zilch.
“It’s nice that you’ve made some friends here.”
She smiled. “Shonda has been great. I’m so glad that her brother is going to be all right. A couple of broken bones and a mild concussion, but he’ll heal up.”
“Good news.” He paused, brushing his fingers through her silky sable hair again. “You seem like such a kind person. I’ll bet you don’t have any enemies.”
Rachel lifted her head to look down at him and paused. “Not that I know of. I’m generally on better footing with Owen now. My family says he’s got a new girlfriend and that Carly has been good for him. I can’t think of anyone else I’ve exchanged any cross words with.”
“Know if his girlfriend’s jealous of you?”
“Why should she be?” Rachel shrugged. “I’m out of his life and have no interest in returning.”
Even if it didn’t seem likely, the sexually inept ex still remained his only suspect. Not that Decker wouldn’t love to nail his ass to the wall, but he worried that pinning this murder for hire on Owen might be a bit too easy, like saying the butler did it. If the guy lived in Florida, it would be awfully inconvenient to travel to Lafayette simply to solicit a murder. And obvious, too. Then again, maybe he’d simply called a sympathetic friend and convinced him to hire out this dirty work. Hard to know . . . Better to keep digging.
“I’ll bet you’re an expert at handling agitated parents,” he praised. “And your students must love you.”
“I’ve only been teaching here for a few months, but my interactions have been largely positive. Most of my parents are really involved in their kids’ lives, so that makes the partnering great.”
“You haven’t had any trouble with them?”
“No.”
“Like all your new neighbors?”
“The few I know, yeah. It’s a neighborhood of mostly young professionals, so everyone is busy doing their own thing.”
So unless she had some secret or silent hater, had seen something she shouldn’t have, or was the target of some random freak, Decker didn’t have any better suspects than Owen. Damn it, he had to get to a computer and find a picture of the guy, check his current whereabouts, see if that’s who’d plopped his hateful ass down on the barstool beside his and offered him mid-five figures to kill Rachel.
“What about you?” she asked, cutting into his thoughts.
Decker opened his mouth to give her a bullshit reply, but paused. He was already lying to her about his reason for being at that bar, his reason for going home with her, his reason for staying. For some damn reason, he didn’t want to lie about this, too.
“I don’t have many friends beyond Xander and Javier. A few of their local buddies are cool. I’ve spent a lot of time on tours and missions all over the world. A lot of the guys I considered friends didn’t make it home. I’ve got my share of enemies. I’ve got a ruthless streak. If anyone fucks with me or mine, we’re going to have problems.”
Rachel pulled back a bit. He drew her close again and held in a curse.
Oops, probably too much. Likely, he’d scared the hell out of her. He tried to laugh it off and hoped she bought it.
“God, that made me sound like I live in a cave, eat raw game, and beat my chest.”
She giggled, at ease once more. He let out a relieved breath.
“Maybe a little. I was trying to ask you why you’re in Lafayette. Is this a temporary stop?” she asked.
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “That depends some on the Santiago brothers. I’ve been here a few months, and I’ll be here at least another few days. That’s the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I was a kid.”
Her gaze slid away, and he didn’t have to guess that she was telling herself right now not to get attached to him, not to see any sort of future. Normally, he’d applaud that insight. Now, for some reason it absolutely pissed him off.
“But I like Lafayette well enough. Xander and Javier seem really content to cozy up to their new bride and wait for their baby to come. I don’t see them leaving her side anytime soon, and she likes it here, so I might be here a lot longer.”
“So they really share a wife?” she whispered, sounding a bit scandalized.
Crap, he’d seen shit that would shock her to her pretty pink toes. Probably done a few things that would incite the same reaction.
“Yep. They’re fairly open about it among their friends. Her mother wasn’t keen on the idea at first, but she’s come around. You probably would have thought Xander was an ass before London. Javier was a fucking train wreck. They both need her, and she’s got a heart big enough for two.”
“I’ll bet they scandalize their neighbors.”
Since Xander had been really persistent about seducing London in their backyard over the summer, and she and Javier had almost been caught fucking in the car in their driveway a few weeks ago? “No doubt.”
Rachel smiled and braced her chin on his chest again. “You’re easy to talk to.”
“You are, too,” he answered honestly. “Sorry if I got a little, um . . . demanding earlier. I promise I won’t drag you off by your hair—at least not often.”
“Did you hear me complaining?”
“Hmm . . .” He pretended to cock his head in thought. “Unless ‘please, don’t stop’ is some new code for ‘no,’ then I guess not.”
Even in the dim light, he could see a faint flush crawl up her cheeks. “In fact, it was . . . wow.”
He cupped her chin and brushed a thumb over her slightly swollen lip.
“It was pretty ‘wow’ for me, too, beautiful.”
And he meant that. It wasn’t because of her spectacular technique or her deviant sexual kink. It definitely wasn’t because she dressed as scantily as a Hollywood Boulevard hooker. It wasn’t at all because she knew how to seduce a man in sixty seconds or less. It was precisely because none of those things were true about Rachel.
She had permanence stamped all over her, and he wasn’t a staying sort of man. He was going to have to be careful not to hurt her if—no, when—he left. Why lie to himself? This cozy feeling would pass, right? Probably, but . . . he didn’t want to know why the idea of parting ways with her made him somewhere between grumpy and enraged.
“Tired?” she asked with a smile.
“No.”
“Hungry or thirsty?”
“No.” He grinned. “Ask me if I’m horny.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I hate that word.”
“Ask me if I want to fuck you again.”
Rachel hesitated, then with an impish smile, she lifted the blanket covering them both and tried to peer down at his cock, but it had to be too dark for her to see. To make sure she didn’t miss even an inch of his cock throbbing for her, Decker threw back the soft sheets and handmade quilt and took himself in hand.
She gasped. “I don’t think I need to ask.”
Her voice suddenly sounded throaty, and it turned him on even more.
“I want you again, Rachel.” He lifted her hand from his chest and eased it down to his hard cock.
He died a small, shuddering death when she wrapped her fingers around him and stroked softly, down and up his sensitive length, then brushed over the tingling head. When she bent to kiss his shoulder, his chest, another tremor wracked his body.
It didn’t make sense. He’d spent three days in bed with a Victoria’s Secret model last time he’d been in Manhattan. Besides being gorgeous, Mandy was experienced, voracious, and unapologetic. She never expected anything more than an orgasm. Normally, she was his kind of girl.
The fine trembling in Rachel’s fingers told Decker that touching him meant something to her and that it was important to her to give him pleasure. And that was revving up his libido more effectively than skimpy lingerie.
Was he getting older and going traditional? Or had he crossed from sentimental right into sappy? It hadn’t escaped Decker that Rachel trusted him with her body when she hadn’t trusted any other man but her husband. He was as moved by her nervousness, her care, and her goodness as he was by her lush tits—and that was saying something. She had a great rack.
He felt . . . stuck on this woman and had every intention of staying by her side, not only to protect her, but until he could figure out why being with her smacked him with the force of a two-by-four to the forehead.
“I want you, too.” In the dark, she closed her eyes and smiled a bit shyly.
Instead of annoying him or making him wish they could just skip to the fucking, Decker found an answering smile stretching his lips. So sweet. So honest in her every response. He felt a bit guilty for lying to her about his reasons for picking her up at the bar, for being here with her now. But he couldn’t apologize for wanting to shield her from a potentially ugly fate and keep her safe. Until this played out, he’d thoroughly enjoy her goodness.
“I want to suck . . .” She glanced down and swallowed, watching her fingers slowly move over his aching dick.
His breath caught. Holy fuck! Even the hint that she wanted her mouth on him made him harder than steel-reinforced concrete.
“My cock?”
“I’m not used to that word.” Her voice trembled, and her hand shook. “But yes.”
He thrust his hands in her hair and led her down to his waiting erection. “Be my guest.”
Her back stiffened, and she tensed against him. “Don’t laugh at me, but I don’t know how.”
Dumbass Owen hadn’t ever sank in between those luscious lips? Given what Rachel had said about her ex, Decker wondered if the moron had even tried or had he found that a time-consuming waste, too? Owen’s loss was absolutely his gain.
“There’s no right or wrong way. Open wide, suck deep, and do what feels natural.”
“All right.” She looked adorably nervous, and he loved the idea that he would be the first inside her plump, pink lips. Yes, it was caveman of him. So fucking what?
Rachel didn’t hesitate or study the situation. She had a lot of gumption when she wanted to; he was learning that already. In fact, he liked her for it.
Then her lips closed around the head of his cock, and he wasn’t thinking anything anymore.
She had to stretch wide to fit her lips around the swollen mushroom head, and the sight of it sent a hot rush of blood south, engorging him even more. He’d had plenty of blow jobs in his life, but this one was different.
Because she was different. No denying that.
If he hadn’t been solicited to kill Rachel and had simply run into her in a bar, he would have taken a long look at her, licked his lips, and kept walking. She was attractive, no doubt. As well as warm and kind—two things he would have sworn he didn’t need in a sexual partner.
But at his age, maybe it was time to realize that life really was about more than the next adrenaline rush of danger and getting laid.
Hell, listen to him, all mature and shit. Decker rolled his eyes. Actually, they rolled into the back of his head as Rachel sighed, sucked back up his length with a flat, wide tongue, then opened around his girth to take him even deeper. God, she wasn’t spectacular at it, and that didn’t fucking matter at all. Knowing that she was trying, that she was trusting him, that she was giving him something she’d never given anyone . . . all of that turned him on. If she’d been insanely good at it, too, he would probably—
Oh hell, he’d thought too soon. Suddenly, she found a coordinated rhythm, a steady up-down that encompassed most of his shaft, paid extra attention to the head, then—fuck!—she cupped his balls. Now that was beyond stunning.
And if she did this for very long, he’d be totally done for.
“Rachel, beautiful . . .” He slid his fingers deeper into her hair and curled them into fists, gently tugging on her hair. “Baby, slowly. You don’t want to—Oh, shit!” He hissed in a long breath, then tensed and shuddered. She might be a novice, but she’d quickly conquered that inexpert thing. That had to be one of the shortest learning curves in history.
“I’m doing it right?” she murmured, then licked the head like a damn ice cream cone, over and over and . . .
Jesus, she was killing him.
“Oh, yeah,” he gasped. “And then some.”
She giggled. “You sound distressed.”
No shit. “That is not funny.”
“Maybe not to you . . .” Rachel flashed a coy smile at him, clearly happy with herself, before she set back to her task.
Decker closed his eyes and let the slow, burning heat of her mouth surround him. An intense suction that made him shudder came next. He jolted under her leisurely bobbing head. When her tongue lapped around the sensitive head, then a tender drag of her teeth followed, he groaned aloud and nearly hit the roof.
He’d had better in his life . . . maybe. He couldn’t really remember right now. But no woman had ever paid so much attention to his reactions, adjusted so quickly, all to so obviously please him. That reality set him ablaze.
Swallowing back another groan of pleasure clawing up from his chest, he tried to nudge her away. Of course, his hips had other ideas, thrusting up into her sweet, pouty mouth and making his cock right at home.
“Rachel, you need to stop.”
“Why?”
He focused in on her sparkling eyes and swollen lips before she engulfed him again. With a groan, he closed his eyes and indulged for a moment, shafting her lips with his steely length for a few sublime seconds. Then he tugged on her hair just enough to bring her away from his cock and sat up.
“If I have to pick where I’m coming n
ext, it’s going to be deep inside that tight pussy again, beautiful. Lie back for me.” Decker rose to his knees and nudged her to her back. “Spread your legs.”
“But I was having fun,” she protested, not complying with his demand.
“I promise you can have more fun later.” Because there was no way he didn’t want to immerse himself between her silken lips again.
Then he didn’t give her another opportunity to talk. With his own body, he urged her back, eclipsing her. Decker looked down at her, tousled dark curls, rosy cheeks, sweet lips, pleading eyes. Christ, he wanted this woman.
When he’d first heard that some ass-hat wanted her dead, he had felt an undeniable urge to keep her alive. When he’d seen her picture, the itch to have her under him had broken out across his body like allover hives he knew he’d have to scratch away. Now that he’d seen her, met her, talked to her, fucked her . . . maybe a few nights with her might not be enough, after all.
Well, wasn’t this quite a U-turn from his attitude the previous afternoon? But damn it, he was always packing up, moving on, setting out for the next “big adventure.” Color him cynical, but adventure often wound up with him chasing trigger-happy dirtbags in third-world shitholes and either freezing his ass off, sweating to death, or picking sand out of some really uncomfortable places. At thirty-three, wasn’t it time to stop playing the grown-up version of cops and robbers and latch on to something real? Wasn’t it time to stop settling for Ms. Right-now?
Rachel was looking pretty damn real and right for him. He wanted to lay her out, fuck her, exhaust her, wake her up, and do it again until she was happily spent and clinging to him. Yeah, that sounded like an awesome version of paradise.
Tearing into a fresh condom, Decker rolled it down the desperate flesh of his cock. He didn’t waste time with niceties except to check that she was wet and ready. The pair of fingers encountered slick, swollen flesh. Oh yeah, they were a go. She wasn’t just wet, but juicy. Perfect.
Lining himself up, he pushed in one inch at a time, checking for discomfort. Her body had quickly adjusted to his size because she didn’t have any difficulty taking every bit of him on the first agonizing thrust. But slow and steady had won that race. The urge to sprint to the finish now was strong—because when didn’t coming inside a gorgeous woman feel good?—but he wanted to see her go off like a fireworks show first.