Dancing with Fire

by Susan Kearney

  Light and airy, she advanced and retreated in a seductive rhythm that set off a spiraling need. He thought they’d kiss, work their way down to the chaise cushion, but she spun circles around him, her palm caressing his cheek, her hair blowing in his face. And as she danced, she undressed him.

  He barely had the presence of mind to pull a condom from his wallet and put it on before she placed both hands on his shoulders and jumped onto him, taking him inside her. No slow easing into lovemaking for Kaylin. She was like a wild woman, all tongue and touch and flaming heat.

  “You’re insane,” he groaned, slowly lowering them to the chaise cushion. “I could have dropped you.”

  “You didn’t.” She leaned over him and laughed, a slow, delighted laugh that echoed over the river. “Just lie there, and let me do what I want. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He raised his hands to her breasts and feathered her flesh with soft caresses. Then she rode him as he lay on the chaise, the sounds of the river floating in his ears.

  “You feel so good,” she whispered and tilted her hips to provide friction along his length. “Ah . . . that’s better. Yes?”

  “Yes.” He would have said anything if it encouraged her to keep doing what she was doing. Stronger than she looked, Kaylin clenched him with her thighs, gripped his shoulders with her hands.

  And she felt so good that he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on. She leaned forward, and he skimmed his hands over her back and buttocks. Her breasts stroked his chest, her breath against his neck.

  Not yet.

  His muscles tensed. Gathered.

  Hang on.

  She rode him hot and hard. His blood pumped furiously. His breath caught in his throat even as his lungs gasped for air. He actually went light-headed. And still he held back.

  He wanted this to be good for her.

  He would wait.

  And wait.

  Even if the waiting killed him.

  And it very well might. Lord help him, she was so strong. So determined. So damned lovely that he was going to burst.

  He bit his bottom lip. But she took that tiny bit of control away, too, kissing him, her tongue lashing his, demanding, giving, taking.

  He yanked his head away. “Stop.”

  “No.”

  One more move, and he’d be a goner.

  “I need you now,” she demanded. “I’m . . . ah . . . ahh.”

  Her muscles clenched around him, and he let loose with a savage groan. His thoughts splintered. His whole body lunged upward with the explosion. They were damn lucky he didn’t tumble them into the river.

  She didn’t stop moving throughout her pleasure. Didn’t stop kissing him as they lay on the padded cushion. It was as if passion had annihilated her usual reserve. “This is good. Good. Good. Good.”

  Her words inspired him. Although he’d orgasmed, he stayed hard. Hard enough for her to keep riding him. Hard enough for his head to spin. Hard enough to realize that they didn’t have to stop.

  Wow. She was lovely. Insane. Amazing. And hot. Plus, oh could she move her hips. But she’d had her fun with him for long enough.

  “My turn.”

  “Huh?”

  “My turn to play with you.” He placed his hand between them and parted her slick folds.

  “Wait,” she whispered. “I’m so sensitive—”

  “Good.”

  He slid his finger back and forth as he pumped in and out of her. Now that she’d taken off the edge, he controlled the pace. “Faster,” she urged.

  “Sure,” he agreed but kept up the same slow moves. And he watched her eyes widen, as she realized he had no intention of speeding up. At least not yet.

  “I’m . . . not sure . . . I can—”

  “You can. You will.” He didn’t change his speed at all. Instead, he let the tension build until she squeezed her eyes shut, until her breath came in pants, until he ramped up his own needs to the max.

  And when he could no longer control his hips, he moved faster, his fingers more urgent. She might have remained on top, but he controlled the action. If the first orgasm had been solid gold, this went platinum. Pleasure slashed over him, under him, through him. His breath spilled in a rush, and he tipped up his chin, his gaze taking in the stars. And as he burst free inside her, he knew that in the entire universe, he was meant to be right here, right now, with this woman.

  He lost track of everything. For long moments, there were only Kaylin and Sawyer. And an infinite sky.

  “That was fun.”

  Fun? He sighed. To him she was everything. To her . . . he was fun.

  They weren’t playing on a level field, and he reminded himself to give her time. Time to catch up. Because he was in way over his head. And he didn’t want to go under all by himself.

  22

  KAYLIN FELT Sawyer stiffen and withdraw from her, but she didn’t have a clue why. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “What could be wrong?” He chuckled, his tone light and playful, and she relaxed as he tugged her against him.

  The dock tipped beneath her, but she quickly readjusted her balance. “You were wonderful. Thank you.” She snuggled against him and placed her cheek against his chest, loving the stars over their heads, the sounds of the river rippling against the dock, and the gentle breeze on her bare skin.

  But when his arms closed around her again, he did so a beat too slowly. Either something was bothering him or she was over-analyzing.

  While they made love, everything had been fine. But now, as silence lapsed between them, the awkwardness left her confused. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

  What had she done? She had been on the aggressive side.

  “Did I shock you?”

  “You can shock me like that any time,” he teased.

  Kaylin didn’t know what to think. Perhaps it would come to her later. Right now, she simply wanted to snuggle a bit, then shower and go to bed. It had been a long day. A memorable day. Between finding her long-lost grandmother and Sawyer’s lovemaking . . . she’d go to bed happier than any night since her father had died.

  Her father. She hadn’t even thought about him tonight. But she didn’t need to swim in guilt. It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t always save a place in her heart to love him. But she was beginning to heal, to push back the pain, to live once again in the moment while planning for the future. Dad would have wanted that.

  “What are you thinking?” Sawyer asked.

  “After Mom died, Dad helped us get through it. He told us we’d always miss her, always remember her, and that she’d live on inside our memories. And when I missed her most, I’d pretend she was in the next room, that when I spoke to her she listened to me.”

  “I barely remember my parents. Just scents. Voices. I’m not even sure if my memories are my own or made up from looking at pictures of them.”

  “We’re a mess, aren’t we?” She picked up her shirt and yanked it over her head, stuffed her panties and bra in her purse, and donned her slacks.

  Sawyer stood and dressed, too, but remained silent. She’d probably pulled down his mood with her comment. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I know I shouldn’t feel guilty for enjoying myself, but—”

  “It’s normal.” He sounded sympathetic, understanding. “After my folks died, I ate a piece of cake and thought it was delicious. Then I felt terrible because my parents were dead and couldn’t eat cake.” He’d been so young when he’d lost his parents, but the pain must have been awful, maybe worse since he couldn’t take in what had happened. “It’s not rational, but I’ve never eaten cake again.”

  “Saying sorry seems inadequate.” She slipped her arms around him and hugged him, then let go.

  “I’m not immune to pain, Kaylin. I get it. You
don’t need to hide your feelings from me. They are what they are.” He took her hand in his and gently cupped her cheek with the other. Moonlight glinted in his eyes. “You’ll muddle through the grieving process the best way you know how.”

  “When does it end?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  She thought of her mother. She still mourned her death. Her chest tightened. “It doesn’t end.”

  “But we adapt. We go on. We love, and we live. What else can we do?”

  “We make love like there’s no tomorrow.” Kaylin wasn’t certain in the darkness, but she thought he stiffened. She didn’t intend to hurt him. “I didn’t mean to imply I made love because I wanted to escape the pain of my father’s death. It wasn’t like that. In fact, I sort of forgot about it, that’s why the guilt hit me. I’m alive, and he isn’t.”

  He spoke gently. “It’s okay.”

  But it wasn’t okay. She had the feeling she’d missed something important, as though an idea was just beyond her grasp. She probably just needed sleep. Maybe she’d figure it out later.

  After they’d gone inside the house, she showered, towel-dried her hair, pulled on PJs, and slid between the sheets. She wasn’t used to sleeping anywhere but home. Every wind-creaked branch slapping the house, every drop of water in the pipes, and every hum of the A/C kept her awake.

  Maybe it was her fault. She shouldn’t have slept on the way home from Orlando. Perhaps a glass of milk would help her relax. She tossed off the covers, slipped into a robe, and opened her bedroom door. Sawyer’s room, right across the hall, had no light reflecting under the door. Unwilling to risk waking him or anyone else in the house, she didn’t turn on a light.

  Instead, she padded barefoot down the hall and kept her hand on the banister as she descended the stairs. She didn’t want to wake Billy on the side porch, either, so she felt her way past the foyer and dining area and headed for the kitchen.

  The tinkling sound of glass falling behind her had her spinning around.

  Someone was breaking in.

  She jerked forward to run upstairs and warn her sisters, but that would mean racing past the front door, where it sounded like the intruders were coming in.

  She could shout. But would anyone hear her? And if they did, would her sisters end up heading straight toward the intruders?

  Calling 9-1-1 for help seemed the wisest choice.

  She’d left her cell phone upstairs in her purse. A thud that sounded like it came from the dining room shot her into double time.

  Heart slamming her ribs, Kaylin dashed for the land line in the kitchen. She’d seen a phone on the counter. Or had it been on the wall? She didn’t dare turn on the light and reveal her presence. Didn’t dare make a sound. She had to get help.

  If the same people who’d broken into her house had already found them again, they must be watching them constantly. Moving here, staying in the same neighborhood, had been stupid. They were all in danger. She should have just packed up her sisters and left the state.

  Where the hell was the phone?

  Her fingers skimmed the counter. She bumped into a potted plant, a blender, a phone book. An object rolled. A pen. In the darkness she heard it skitter and ping as it hit the floor.

  Damn.

  She held her breath. Didn’t move a muscle.

  But they’d heard it. A flashlight beam hit her in the face, blinding her.

  “Don’t move, or I’ll shoot.” It was a man’s gruff voice.

  Terrified, she held still, so scared her throat tightened, and she couldn’t utter any warning. And with the light in her eyes, she couldn’t see anything.

  “Turn around.”

  Shaking so hard she almost fell, Kaylin turned around, her back to the intruder. Any moment she expected to hear a gunshot and braced for the agony of a bullet ripping through her.

  At the same time, she prayed her sisters would stay safely asleep. That whatever these intruders wanted they would take from her instead.

  Approaching footsteps made her tremble. A man grabbed her hands, yanked them behind her back and used heavy tape, maybe duct tape, to bind her wrists. Next he slapped more tape over her mouth, forced her to kneel, and bound her ankles.

  And then he walked away.

  God. He hadn’t raped her. Hadn’t hurt her. Hadn’t asked even one question. But everyone else was asleep, and he appeared to be heading upstairs toward her sisters, Mitzy, and Sawyer.

  She’d failed to warn them. She’d been too scared to shout a warning, waited too long. Now they’d left her gagged and bound, but she had to get help.

  Getting to a knife and sawing through the duct tape would take too long. She had to move fast.

  Kaylin inched toward the side porch. If she could get to Billy, wake him up, maybe he could slip away and call for help. Kaylin tried to stand, but learned she needed a wall to lean on. She rolled to a corner, wedged her back against two walls and pushed to her feet. Then she jumped forward, the sound of her feet loud in her ears.

  Without her arms to balance her, she almost toppled. But thanks to her dancer’s muscles, she stayed upright.

  But she couldn’t hop quietly. Surely they would hear her? But what else could she do? Her sisters were in danger. She needed to do something fast.

  She jumped her way down the hall and fell once, knocking the wind from her lungs. From the dining room, she saw the shadows of several men sneaking upstairs.

  Go, Kaylin. Get down. Roll.

  Kaylin inched, rolled, and squirmed to Billy’s room to find his door locked. She kicked with her feet, praying he’d wake up. But either he was a deep sleeper, or she didn’t make enough noise.

  Kaylin placed her back against his door, shoved to her feet, twisted the knob with her hands, and pushed. The door opened, and she fell into the sun porch. She couldn’t see much in the dark, but Randy woke up, came over, and licked her face.

  Where was Billy?

  Kaylin scrambled to the bed as the moon came out from behind a cloud. The bed was empty.

  Billy wasn’t here.

  And she’d wasted all that time. All her energy. On nothing.

  She heard a short scream. Lia. And Becca crying. Thumps. Then a deep voice issuing orders. Randy started to growl.

  Lights came on all over the upstairs. She saw masked men wearing dark clothing and gloves marching her sisters and Mitzy, their hands taped behind their backs, down the stairs. Anger and frustration ripped through her.

  Hope that Sawyer had escaped died when he clumped down next. He must have put up a fight because blood poured down the side of his face. She had only seconds to do something before they realized she’d left the kitchen.

  Kaylin made her way to the outside door. She found the knob, opened the porch door that led outside, and toppled through it. Then she rolled like crazy, bumping down the steps, over the lawn. Shouts all over the house warned her they’d discovered her absence. Frantic, she rolled toward the river. If she could make it to the water and hide long enough to soak the stickiness off the duct tape, she might free herself.

  Her plan was a long shot. But it was better than doing nothing.

  Almost there, she tumbled over stickers and what was most likely an ant hill. The fire ants stung, the agony of the bites making her eyes water. Too many ant bites could kill her, the poison rendering her unconscious. But the pain, while severe, kept her going. Finally, she made it to the sea wall and tipped over the edge, splashing into the river.

  The water, cool and dark, soothed her at first. But between her spinning head, the ant bites, and her tied hands and feet, Kaylin lost track of up and down. She pumped her feet in a dolphin kick and shot back to the surface. She drew air in through her nose and sank.

  Damn. Had she rolled herself into the river only to drown? Now was a fi
ne time to consider that possibility.

  She jerked her wrists, trying to twist the tape back and forth to allow the water to dissolve the stickiness. But if her plan was working, it was too damn slow for her to notice. She gasped more air and somersaulted, threading her hips and feet through her bound arms and coming up with her hands in front of her. She clawed the tape from her mouth and drew in desperately needed deep breaths.

  Men swarmed into the backyard shining their flashlights, the beams sweeping over the grass, the dock, and the water. She ducked and surfaced beneath the dock.

  Swimming with her hands in front of her was easier. She no longer feared drowning and tried to use her teeth on her taped wrists. But it didn’t work. She kept sinking and having to come up for air.

  Kaylin ducked three times before she succeeded in using her bound hands to undo her feet. Progress. She could kick better now. While she waited for the men to leave the backyard, she worked the duct tape at her wrists with her teeth. Finally she found an edge. Peeled.

  And she was free.

  Now what?

  She eased up the ladder and onto the dock. A man stood guard on the driveway, just outside the open garage door. Solid fences lined both sides of the yard.

  She either had to call for help or go in and save her sisters herself. Getting to a phone didn’t look like it was possible.

  But what could Kaylin do against at least four armed men? She recalled an oar leaning up against the boat house and grabbed it. Not that an oar would do much good against a gun. Still, she felt better with the makeshift weapon in her hands.

  If she could take out the guy on the driveway, she could run across the street for help. Clutching the oar, she moved along the fence line, where her shadow merged with the darkness. Several times she stepped on sharp things, a rock, a branch, but she didn’t cry out.

  Her heartbeat battered her ribs. Every sound seemed too loud. The guy on the driveway was facing her, but paid no attention as he lit a cigarette. In the flash of his lighter, she could see he wore a dark mask, dark clothing, and gloves. She didn’t see a weapon, but he could have one tucked into a pocket or in the waistband of his pants.