For a little while, she was sure she could kiss Dean all night. She floated, her head spun, her mouth devoured, as his did. He touched her, raking the palm of his hand over her breasts, caressing her thigh, and soon the kiss was not enough. She knew what she wanted and so did Dean.
He stood slowly, took her hand and assisted her to her feet. "No couches this time," he said.
The idea of taking Dean into her bed made her shiver. She'd been thinking about it all day. Dean naked beneath the sheets. Her sheets. Her body against his from head to toe. She led him to the hallway, her hand still in his, and walked toward her bedroom. They didn't run, they didn't hurry. They had all night, and no matter how anxious she was to lie beneath Dean, there was no need to rush.
Before they'd gone far, he began to unzip her dress. He moved slowly, the zipper descending an inch or so with each step they took. Again Reva shivered.
She didn't turn on the overhead fixture in her bedroom, but the lamp in the hallway shed enough light into the room to gently illuminate her elaborately fashioned iron-post bed and, as she turned, Dean. Like everything else tonight, the light was perfect. She deserved a few perfect nights, and she'd had so few.
Her back to Dean, she drew down the quilt she slept beneath every night to expose plain white sheets.
When she turned to face Dean again, he slipped her unzipped dress over her shoulders and down. It fell to the floor and she kicked it away. She stood before him in black panties and bra and her high-heeled shoes. He took a moment to study her thoroughly, and finally he smiled.
"You have turned my world upside down, Reva Macklin."
"Is that a good thing?" she whispered.
"I haven't decided yet." He took her in his arms and kissed her again, as if he was hungry for her after being away for a long time. She knew how he felt. How could she need him so much when she'd lived without him all her life?
He unfastened the bra and gently removed it. It dropped to the floor to land silently beside her dress. Dean lowered her to the bed, moving slowly, deliberately, hovering above her as he moved his mouth to her breasts to lick and suckle and arouse.
Reva closed her eyes and allowed herself to simply feel. Dean's warm mouth, the cool sheet at her back, Dean's hands, his body above hers. It all worked together, like a well-choreographed dance. Every shift of his mouth, every flicker of his tongue, made the relentless beat in her gut increase. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
Dean was still completely dressed, and if he touched her, she was going to come.
She began to tug gently on his shirt, silently telling him to take it off. He did, sitting up and yanking the shirt off and tossing it aside, then removing her shoes and hooking one finger through the waistband of her panties. Those he removed slowly, an inch at a time, kissing her as the last of her clothing shifted down. He kissed her mouth, her breasts, her stomach, as he inched the underwear down with attentive fingers.
When the underwear was finally tossed aside, Dean ran his hands up the inside of her legs, parting them tenderly. Reva's heart thundered, and the thrum at her core grew more insistent.
Dean kissed her inner thigh, and Reva closed her eyes and sighed. Everything he did to her aroused her more, every touch was gentle and yet powerful. She wanted it to end, and yet she didn't. If she could grab on to this feeling and keep it all night, she would. He kept her on the brink, shivering with anticipation. Ripples of pleasure fluttered through her body from head to toe.
When he brought his mouth to her most intimate place, she arched in surprise, then moaned in pleasure. The little sound escaped from deep in her throat, and she could not stop it. His tongue flickered and she shattered, grasping the sheet in her hands and crying out hoarsely as he continued to make love to her with his tongue.
Sated and drained, she could barely breathe. Her knees shook. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure Dean could hear it.
He crept up slowly, strangely graceful for such a large man.
"You're not even undressed," she said with a lazy smile. She reached for his belt buckle. "Yet."
* * *
Dean grabbed a condom from his wallet as Reva finished undressing him. With her hands on his body, her mouth kissing his, it had been easy to allow himself to believe that nothing else mattered beyond what was happening right now.
She was so beautiful—warm skin on white sheets, silky hair spread across the bed, smile sexy and shy. Yes, shy, even now.
Her hands were not shy. She touched him, exploring with curious, arousing fingers. She wasn't satisfied until he was as naked as she was, until there was nothing between them. Flesh on flesh, heartbeats racing, outside world forgotten for the night.
His cell phone, a few feet away with his pants, began to ring.
"Don't answer it," Reva whispered, as if the person on the other end of the phone might hear.
"Don't worry."
He kissed her, and she answered with passion. No more shyness as her tongue danced with his, as her hand rested on his hip. After a few rings, the phone went silent.
Reva playfully snatched the condom from his hand and opened the foil package. When she removed the condom itself from the package, she pursed her lips and lifted the thing to catch the light. "I think there's something wrong with this."
Dean groaned. "It's blue." He'd grabbed a couple of condoms from the box Clint had delivered to Somerset, not paying any attention at all to details. His mind had been elsewhere at the time. He hadn't been at all certain he'd need one. There was another condom in his wallet. It probably glowed in the dark. "But it'll have to do." He'd waited as long as he could.
Reva smiled as she helped him sheath himself, her hands driving him beyond the point of no return. He needed to be inside her this time, to make her scream again, to feel her contract around him. She wanted to feel like a woman, she wanted a night to remember. He was damn well going to do his best to give that night to her.
Reva's smile faded as he caressed her. Her eyes closed and she sighed. When he guided himself to her, she lifted her hips and urged him deeper, faster. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and she arched up and into him. Tight and hot, she took him in.
They found a rhythm, their own rhythm, and danced on the edge of perfection. They danced gently until their bodies took over and demanded more. They mated, mindless and fierce, until together they reached the end. Reva cried out beneath him, held on tight while her body quivered and her inner muscles milked him. He went over the edge with her, lost in the pleasure of release.
She continued to hold him as their heartbeats and breathing slowed. Drained and boneless, they clung to one another.
Reva moved first, raking her fingertips through his hair.
"You're blue," she whispered, a smile in her voice.
Dean lifted his head and looked at the woman beneath him, the woman he remained joined to. And he wished with all his heart that things were different. If she didn't have a past with Eddie Pinchon, if he hadn't promised her he wouldn't stay, if he hadn't lied by not telling her why he was here, everything would be different. A week ago he'd have sworn to anyone who'd listen that he didn't want a woman in his life. He'd tried a couple of times, and it hadn't worked. There had never been a woman as important as the job. Besides, he'd been tied down much of his life by the brothers and sister he'd practically raised, and to be shackled forever … well, it wasn't for him.
So why did Reva make him wish for the brass ring?
* * *
"You have to go," Reva whispered reluctantly. Dean was stretched out beside her, quiet and very much at home in her bed.
"Why?"
"Because people are watching. Miss Evelyn is surely waiting for your return like an overprotective mother. You've been here long enough for dinner, maybe a movie on television and a little smooching."
"Just a little?" he rolled toward her, kissed her, cupped her breast in one hand and teased the nipple with his thumb.
Reva shuddered. How could she possibly want him again? "J
ust a little," she murmured.
"I don't want to go," he said, and he proved it to her with another kiss and those wandering hands.
"You can come back," she said. "I'll open Cooper's window for you. You're a cop. You should be good at sneaking around after dark."
Dean went still. His hands, his mouth, even his breathing. For a moment it all stopped. "I'm not actually a cop, not in the sense you mean," he said in a low voice.
"You said…"
"I said I was in law enforcement. I'm a deputy U.S. marshal."
"Oh." She had no idea what that meant. "So what do you do exactly?"
"I'm currently in the fugitive-apprehension unit. The U.S. Marshals Service also handles federal court security and the witness-protection program, among other things."
"Fugitive apprehension. You chase bad guys?"
"That's one way to put it."
She smiled and touched his face. For some reason she loved to touch Dean's face. Hard here, soft there, masculine everywhere. "I bet you're very good at what you do."
"Usually," he said. He watched her face as if searching for … something.
"I can see where it might be very stressful and you would need a vacation now and then."
"Until I came here, I hadn't taken a real vacation in years."
"Well, then, we'll just have to make sure it's a memorable one."
"Already there."
She smiled and rose lazily. Oh, she didn't want to let him go, not even for a little while. "Come on. Up and at 'em."
He raised his eyebrows and she laughed. When had she ever laughed like this? Never. Not with a man, anyway. "Once everyone sees you go home, they'll settle into their own little beds for the night, satisfied that all is well in their little town."
"And I can sneak back through Cooper's window."
"Yeah." She could handle the gossip if it was only her. She'd been through worse! But she wasn't going to let Cooper's life be tainted by a mother who did not behave properly. She wouldn't give her neighbors anything to talk about.
"You go home and have a nice short chat with your landlady, and I'll call Tewanda and tell her what a sweet and well-behaved date you were, and then you can sneak into the house and we'll have the rest of the night."
Dean did not look convinced. "I am thirty-five years old and I have never crawled through any window to get laid."
"You don't have to come back if you don't want to," she said, knowing without a doubt that he would return to her tonight. "I'll just … read the paper." She reached over and snagged the newspaper from her bedside table. She'd started to read it a couple of times, but had never gotten far. It had been a busy week.
Dean looked at the paper in her hand. "What is that?"
"The Somerset Sentinel," she said. "Delivered to my door every Thursday afternoon." She showed him the front page, where the huge headline screamed, Two Nabbed For Illegal Deer Hunting.
"Don't you get a Nashville or a Knoxville paper?"
"No."
He was silent for a moment. "Where do you get your news? CNN? One of the other cable news channels?"
She shook her head. "Nope. It's too much for Cooper to handle, all those channels. I have an antenna on the house, so I can pick up one of the Cross City stations."
"What about … news?"
"This is a very strange conversation to be carrying on naked," she said with a smile.
"I'm curious."
How much of herself should she give to Dean? Her body? No problem. Her heart? No way. Her trust?
Maybe.
"Sometimes people come to a small town to hide," she said softly. "To escape from the world you see on the news. The truth is, I don't want to know what's going on in the world. The news is depressing. If anything of consequence happens, I'll find out sooner or later."
"You're hiding," he whispered.
"Yeah."
"From what?"
She laid her hand on his chest and sighed. "Tonight is not a night for sharing secrets, remember?"
"What about tomorrow?"
"There is no tomorrow." She leaned in and kissed him, sweetly at first, then with lips parted and tongues dueling. When she took her mouth from his, she reminded him, "There's only tonight."
* * *
Chapter 13
« ^ »
Dean said good-night at the door, mindful of the fact that there were probably dozens of eyes on him and Reva at the moment. They were both fully dressed and illuminated by the porch light for the prying eyes that watched from windows all around the neighborhood.
Reva offered her hand as if for a good-night handshake. Dean took the hand, pulled her to him and kissed her thoroughly. It wasn't a quick kiss, and it definitely didn't qualify as friendly. It was a kiss that made him want to walk right back inside the house and take up where they'd left off.
When he released her, he grinned and said, "I have a reputation to uphold."
"You have no reputation at all here in Somerset."
"I do now."
He turned and walked away, resisting the urge to run. The sooner he got this charade over with, the sooner he'd be back in Reva's bed.
As he crossed the street, he took his cell phone from his pocket and checked for messages. Alan, who had terrible timing, had left a terse "Call me" on Dean's voice mail.
Dean dialed Alan's number as he stepped onto the sidewalk. "What's up?" he asked when his partner answered with a surly "Penner."
"We know why Pinchon came back to his old stomping grounds after he escaped," Alan said. "Rumor is there's money from a deal that went down right before he was arrested. Lots of it. A quarter of a million dollars, we hear, and it's missing. Pinchon's looking for it. If the rumor is true, that's why he's here visiting with all his old pals, instead of taking off for parts unknown."
"Then he should be easy to find." Dean stopped in the front yard. The air smelled of spring, the crickets sang their own tune, and a breeze wafted gently through ancient tree limbs. There was peace here. The kind of deep-down, real peace he had never known. Was it the place? Or was it Reva?
"We'll get him sooner or later," Alan said.
"It's already later." Dean leaned against the trunk of an old oak. He wouldn't rest easy until Pinchon was behind bars again where he belonged. "Reva doesn't even know Pinchon's out of prison."
"I'm sure she'd like you to believe that," Alan responded.
"She doesn't read a decent newspaper, and she doesn't have cable TV. She's isolated herself here."
Alan was silent for a moment. "Let's say you're right and Reva Macklin has no idea Pinchon escaped. If you tell her he's out, I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts she'll run and hide."
"Yeah. I think she's terrified of him."
Alan sighed, obviously disgusted. "That's not what I meant. If there is money missing, maybe she has it. Where did she get the cash to open a restaurant, anyway?"
"No," Dean said. "That's not possible. I told her tonight that I'm a deputy marshal, and she didn't even blink."
"Did you tell her why you're there?"
Dean's heart sank. "No."
"Trust me, that news will get more than a blink out of her."
He knew Alan was right. Still… "She doesn't have the money, and she's not waiting for Eddie to show up and take up where he left off."
There was a moment of silence before Alan asked softly, "Are you sleeping with her?"
"Not at the moment."
Alan spat out a few curses that would have Boone blushing, then took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll be there tomorrow afternoon. You're getting out of town."
"No."
"I'm not going to sit back and watch you throw your career away over a woman!"
"I'm not throwing anything away."
"You're walking a very fine line, Dean." That was the truth.
"I assume someone is already checking into Reva's finances to see if they can come up with money she shouldn't have."
"Yep. It'll take a couple of days, though
. Be careful," he added in a calmer voice. "I don't want to have to break in another partner."
"I'll be careful." Dean ended the call, then turned off the cell phone. If Alan tried to call again, he could leave a message.
Careful. Dean Sinclair was nothing if not careful.
Loving Reva was the least-cautious thing he'd ever done.
* * *
Reva sat on Cooper's bed, wearing a rose-colored robe and nothing else. She'd opened the window a few minutes ago. A gentle spring breeze washed over her as she waited for Dean to return.
Like it or not, she was changed yet again. She wasn't the same woman she'd been before Dean Sinclair came to town. Something inside her, the woman she had buried, was breaking free. At this very moment emotions she'd denied herself for a very long time were growing. She could almost feel them, warm and tingling and fragile.
And foolish. Dean wasn't just a cop, he was some kind of federal marshal. She should be terrified that he might find out about her past.
But she wasn't. They had no future, no past. They only had now.
An unpleasant thought made her heart lurch. What if Dean didn't come back? He certainly didn't have to, and he hadn't actually said he would. Maybe he was finished with her and didn't feel the need to return.
She should be divinely satisfied and sleeping the dreamless sleep of the well loved. Why did she need and want more so desperately that the very thought of Dean made her body respond in ways she'd forgotten were possible?
Why was she so afraid he wouldn't come back?
The last thing she wanted or needed was an emotional attachment to Dean Sinclair. She sighed as she kept her eyes on the open window and the night beyond. It was too late for that worry. If she had been the kind of woman who could give her body and not her heart, she would have found a man to warm her bed years ago. But that's not who she was. When she gave of herself, she gave everything. Heart, body and soul. Dean could never know this. If he knew, he'd either run from her in terror, or he'd think they might have something beyond this affair.
ON DEAN'S WATCH Page 14