"What are you doing?"
Dane's voice startled her and she yelped. She heard rattling noises then the small lamp on the bedside table clicked on. He stared at her. He didn't look sleepy or surprised. More than likely, he'd watched her progress across the room. The rat.
She refused to back down. "I've decided to sleep with you."
"Oh really?"
Marissa ripped off the bedcovers, straddled him, and placed her lips against his.
"I shouldn't be doing this," he mumbled. "Just one taste. Just one—"
His kiss was hungry, demanding. He shoved up her nightgown and cupped her breasts, breaking off the kiss to take a nipple into his mouth. Marissa cried out and clutched his shoulders. His tongue did marvelous things, wicked things she'd dreamed about for such a long time. She grasped his hips and strained against Dane, rubbing her tingling center against the hardness protected by his boxers. She wished he'd rip off her panties and her nightgown so she could press her flesh against his.
His hand crept inside her panties, found the throbbing nub, and stroked it. Sparks of sensation skittered through her.
Oh. My. God.
The reality of lovemaking was a hundred times better than she'd ever imagined.
"Damn it." He withdrew from her breasts and let the nightgown drop, but his thumb remained...stroking, stroking, stroking.
Thanks to Dane's mouth and hands, her nipples felt deliciously sensitive—even the rough cotton of the gown caused tiny ripples of sensation.
"Marissa..."
"Hmmm."
She was wet, ready, and willing...but Dane looked as if he might bolt from the bed. She removed her nightgown and leaned forward to offer him her breasts. He kept his wicked thumb on her clit, but his free hand cupped a breast. He leaned forward and sucked the nipple. Arrows of heat shot through her; she moaned.
"It feels good. I've never felt this way. It's all so amazing, but I feel like—well, I've read extensively on the subject of sex and I think what I'm looking for here is an orgasm."
He looked dumbfounded. Maybe he wasn't used to such plain talking when it came to sex, but she didn't want to waste time with a euphemistic approach to a normal and healthy function of the body. She'd been led to believe that men had a more practical mindset about having physical relations and she was surprised and frustrated at Dane's refusal to pursue what they both obviously wanted.
"An orgasm?" he asked.
"It comes from the Greek word, organ, which means 'to swell.' According to the dictionary, an orgasm is 'the climax to a sexual act.'"
"I know what an orgasm is."
"I suppose that's because you've had one," she complained. "I know there are plenty of ways to do it myself, but I've never indulged. I guess it's those stupid romance novels. I've always wanted to reach completion with a partner."
"That's admirable." Dane's voice sounded strangled, so Marissa glanced at him.
His eyes had that feral look again and she wondered what she'd said or done this time to invoke his wrath. Every time she thought she was having a normal discussion, he acted like she was speaking a foreign language.
He pursed his lips. "Since it's my fault you're all hot and bothered, I suppose I should do something about it." Her breath left in a whoosh and her heart kicked up a few beats. "Y-you'll finish making love to me?"
He flipped her onto her back and brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. "What exactly did you read in those romance novels?"
"Romance novels have all those lovely forever relationships and the sex is so good." She paused. "I read other kinds of books, too."
"Kama Sutra, right? I remember."
She nodded, inexplicably feeling shy. Reading about sex and performing the act were entirely different. Would Dane get impatient with her inexperience?
"Since you know all about the subject, you probably won't be too surprised when I do this."
He knelt between her legs and removed her panties.
He spread open her legs and placed his warm mouth on her very center. His tongue stroked her until she thought she'd go mad. He lifted his head. The sensations threatening to burst subsided.
"Dane!"
"Ssshhh." He sat up, untangled her hands from the sheets, and pushed them onto her aching breasts. "Touch yourself, Marissa."
She cupped her breasts, daring to pinch her own nipples. Waves of sensation enveloped her and she cried out. Dane slipped down between her legs, cupped her bottom, and drew her to his mouth. He licked, nipped, sucked, tortured...and paused.
Looking down, she met his dark gaze. "You turn me on," he said. "This turns me on." He kissed her clitoris and her thighs shook as sensations struck her like mini-lightning strikes.
She cupped her breasts and wound her fingers around her areolas, grasping the turgid peaks. "And this?" she asked in a tremulous whisper.
"Especially that."
His sigh coasted down her stomach. She wiggled closer until she felt the heat of his mouth hovering above her woman's core. "More," she demanded, arching so his lips skimmed her swollen nub.
"More," he agreed then lowered his head and suckled. Hard. She came, an explosion of pleasure so immense, she screamed, and trembled against the lips that attempted to soothe her pulsing center. Then he suckled again, hard and fast, licking and nipping until another orgasm claimed her. Sweat trickled down her neck, her body felt as if it had imploded then pieced back together by an inept surgeon, and ragged joy filled her. Making love with Dane was all she had imagined...and more.
What would actual intercourse feel like? The idea of him slipping inside her wet heat, stroking, thrusting, pumping...she swallowed her gasp of unexpected desire. Two orgasms and she was ready for a third. She was ready to give Dane the same pleasure he'd given her.
But Dane didn't enter her. Instead, he crawled beside her and cuddled with her as she recovered. She had never imagined the absolute bliss of an orgasm. No wonder women talked about them all the time.
"I feel wonderful," she murmured. She stretched then looked at the man who had introduced her to a marvelous version of making love. "What about you? Shouldn't we continue? Surely you need—"
"I can handle it."
"Literally?"
Dane grinned. "Very funny."
Marissa looked at his boxers. His hard-on tented the material. Boldly, she stroked him through the boxers and smiled when his shaft jumped at her touch. "It's your turn, Dane. Then mine again."
His brow lifted. "Again?"
"Is there an orgasm limit?"
"Hell, no."
She reached inside his boxer shorts and grasped the smooth, hard flesh of his penis. She wondered how it would feel in her mouth, if Dane would get as much pleasure from oral sex as she had. She grabbed the top of his boxers and tugged them down.
"Dane!" Tuesday's voice sounded panicked from the other side of the door. He pounded a fist against the thin wood. "You better get out here, man."
Twelve
DANE TOSSED THE sheets over Marissa and leapt from the bed, his heart pounding. What fresh hell had descended upon them now? He pulled open the door and blinked. Tuesday was covered in....
"Are you...what the...is that peanut butter?"
"Just on the left side." Tuesday pointed to his legs. "I got eggs down here and potato salad between my toes. It's nasty, too. Is that shit supposed to be fuzzy and green?"
"Uh...no." Dane swallowed the rumbling laugh in his throat. Tuesday didn't look as if he'd appreciate any form of joy right now. "How did you..." He cleared his throat. "...get that, uh, way?"
"Dane, Jr. That dog done tore up the kitchen. I opened the fridge to get a Coke and he thought it was Christmas at the dog pound. His big ass pushed me down and he tried to jump inside. All the shelves broke and everything fell on the floor. Where I was laying."He wiggled his hips. "Damn. I think there's a pickle in my shorts."
Dane pressed his lips together in an attempt to prevent the threatening guffaws.
It didn't
work.
He laughed so hard his guts ached.
"Hey, man, this would only be funny if it happened to you. I need help getting those animals under control."
"Why is peanut butter in the refrigerator?" asked Marissa. She scooted around Dane and pinned Tuesday with her curious stare.
Dane was relieved to see she'd donned her nightgown. Knowing her, she'd walk around naked, unashamed of her body, and spout off the scientific facts of orgasms—in Latin.
"Wouldn't it get too hard to spread on the bread?"
"Miss M? Whatcha doin' in there?"
Dane placed a hand over her mouth before she blurted out the truth. "Just talking."
"Uh-huh. Talking. Yeah." Tuesday cocked an eyebrow, but his mock ire was ruined by the slash of ketchup on his forehead. "Do you s'pose you can talk downstairs and help me clean up? I don't think cats are supposed to eat butter."
* * *
KADE TOOK A long drag of the cigarette. The sting of nicotine pierced his lungs and his lips curved in a satisfied smile. Oh yeah. Cancer sticks? Hah! He took another drag and blew out a thin stream of smoke.
"Clerk at the convenience store didn't recognize Michael's picture, but she nailed Lillian. Said she left in some kind of white or beige sedan. Maybe."
The pleasure of smoking diminished. Kade eyed his eager, young counterpart and sighed. "It's seven o'clock on a Friday morning." He looked at Pete's empty hands. "Where the hell's my coffee?"
For a fraction of a second, Pete's eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.
That's it, kid. Show some spirit.
Then his features smoothed and he squared his shoulders. "Of course, sir. Sorry, sir." He marched into the convenience store in a near military posture.
Kade rolled his eyes. The pup was still in cadet mode. He wondered how long it would take before the boy showed some backbone. He leaned against the brick wall and puffed on his cigarette, thinking about the first time he'd demanded coffee from Lillie....
His newly appointed partner, longtime object of lust, and fresh-from-the-academy trainee was settling in at her tiny cubicle when he'd rounded the corner and barked, "I want some coffee."
She looked at him, smiled sweetly, and said, "I take mine with cream and two sugars. Thanks."
Yeah. Lillie passed the coffee test, the very first time, with flying colors. And he'd gotten her that coffee, damn it, just like she'd known he would. On that day, he'd felt a terrible strange, tender feeling. It persisted, too, worming its way into his stone heart and, later on, it was what made him push her away.
He'd been too much of an asshole to say that he loved her more than his next breath. He'd been too goddamned afraid. She left him and soon after, Michael had escaped prison and she'd followed him here—to the very place where it had all began.
"Your coffee, sir." Pete handed him a Styrofoam cup.
Kade sipped and grimaced. "Tastes like motor oil." "I believe that's the special ingredient, sir."
Surprised, Kade looked at Pete and grinned. Maybe the pup had gumption, after all.
* * *
TUESDAY SAT ON the couch and tried to convince DJ to let go of the TV remote. "You're slobberin', man. Doggie saliva ain't good for electronics." He patted the Dane's head. "C'mon, buddy, drop the remote."
The dog bounded off the couch and ran around the living room.
Tuesday stayed on the couch and watched the dog's antics. "Man was not meant to use the controls on the television. Those are just for show."
DJ ran toward the picture windows, turned around, skidded across the carpet, and headed up the stairs.
"Shit." Disgusted and amused, Tuesday jogged toward the staircase. The phone rang. He paused, with one foot on the first step, and looked at the fancy mobile phone trilling in its holder.
Marissa and Dane had gone house hunting, but they hadn't given him instructions, much beyond Dane's terse, "Don't let those mongrels in the kitchen again, damn it." They were due back in time for dinner, and Marissa had promised to bring Chinese food.
Thuds, growls, and yips drifted down to him. Great. What furry hooligan had gotten the remote now?
The phone rang again.
"You better stop chewing on that," he yelled. "I ain't playing!" He hurried to the phone. "Hello?"
"Tuesday?"
The shaking whisper caused chills to trail his spine. "Slane? Baby girl, what's wrong?" He'd given her the phone number yesterday, telling her to only call it if it was an emergency.
"Jeremy. He...hurt me. Bad. I didn't have the money." He flinched. He'd promised her the money, but he wanted to earn it from Miss M. Guilt twisted through him...he'd put his pride before his sister's life. "Where's Momma?"
"I don't know. She washed her hands of me, Tuesday. You the only who loves me. You the only who wants to help." Tuesday grimaced. His mother took the "tough love" concept to new levels. No child who did drugs, had premarital sex, joined gangs, or sassed her, stayed under her roof. He'd bailed at age sixteen, found a job, his own place, and dropped out of high school. If Slane had gone to Momma, the woman would've said, "Help your ownself, child."
"Where are you?"
"I'm here. Right here. Where I always am. Where are you?" She sounded exhausted.
Fear drove a spike into his heart. "Wake up, Slane. Can you get to the hospital?"
His heart pounded now, a thrumming beat keeping track of time lost.
"I'm so tired, T. So tired. I gotta take a nap."
"No! No, Slane. Are you at Jeremy's?"
"He's gonna kill me," she admitted in a little-girl voice. "Whose blood is this? So much blood..."
The phone clicked off and the dial tone buzzed in his ear. How was he going to get to his sister? He had no transportation, no friends to come get him, no way to get hold of Dane or Marissa. Damn it, why hadn’t he gotten their cell phone numbers? His gaze traveled around the house, looking for some sort of inspiration. Then he saw the business card emblazoned with the TeenCenter logo lying on top of the television. He snatched it up and dialed. Hold on, baby girl. Just hold on....
* * *
MICHAEL FEENEY BROODED. Sooner or later, Lillie's sister would return. He watched the driveway from the edge of the forest, waiting. She'd left earlier with that asshole who'd ruined his chances to kidnap her. Screw secretive maneuvers. When they returned, he'd kill that interfering bastard and grab the bitch. She was sweet as honey, that one, a morsel he needed to bait the trap, but maybe he'd take a little taste.
Wouldn't that chap Lillie's perfect ass? Oh, she'd be jealous. She'd hate him for fucking her sister. But hadn't he shown her deep devotion time and again? She always wanted more, demanded more, needed more.
Women. He shook his head and grinned at the insensibilities of women in general and of his Lillie in particular. Never satisfied. But that was the price paid by men all over the world.
Dust churned and his gaze jerked to the dirt road. He lifted the rifle and sighted the car in his scope. Damn it. He didn't recognize the vehicle, but the dark-skinned woman in it wasn't his target. The nondescript sedan skidded to a stop in front of the house and a young black male ran from it and jumped in the still-running car. The sedan sped away.
His gaze turned toward the now empty house.
Michael grinned.
He clicked on the rifle's safety, looped the strap over his shoulder, and strolled out of the woods.
Thirteen
BRENT FOLLOWED LILLIE into the kitchen and watched her rummage around in the fridge. His gaze landed on her luscious behind. He hadn't touched her since they'd made love on the floor last night. They'd spent the day at the pool, then in the late afternoon, came home to make sandwiches and laze around. She was a pro at avoiding subjects she didn't want to talk about and refused to tell him why she was in trouble. Despite their attempts to relax, the tension was so thin and taut, he knew it was a matter of time before it snapped.
She asked about nine zillion questions about Dane and studied his apartment like a med sch
ool student studying anatomy. At the same time she was dragging information out of Brent, she refused to reveal anything about herself.
Brent didn't want to think about the man named Kade who owned her heart. Lillie might not want to admit it, but she harbored love for this guy. Maybe she believed she was through with the relationship and maybe she would heal her broken heart...damn it. As much as he wanted to believe it, he knew she wasn't done with Kade.
Jealousy pricked his heart. What kind of asshole turned away such a beautiful woman? Yeah, she had great looks, but her insides were better. She was funny with a streak of goofy, smart—she'd just kicked his ass at Scrabble—and self-protective.
"When do you think we can check out your house? Is it going to be a bitch to clean?"
"No. Most of the rooms are empty." He looked at the wall so she wouldn't catch him checking out her form. "There's no reason we can't go out there tonight. You'll get to meet Dane and Marissa's little brood."
Her head popped up so fast she banged it on the top of the fridge. "Ouch!" She grabbed her skull and whipped around to look at him. "She has a brood? A brood?"
Brent blinked at the ferocity of her tone. "The four-legged variety. She and Dane adopted eight animals from one of the shelters."
"Oh." She returned to the fridge.
"Don't like kids, huh?"
"Sure I do. It's just...um, cleaning up after them is a lot of work."
"Yeah. Or maybe you know Marissa and you were freaked by the fact she might have kids."
She straightened and looked at him over her shoulder. "Why would I know Marissa?"
Brent shrugged, but his instincts hummed. He was on the right path. Her distress was related to Marissa. "So you don't know Marissa Vanderson?"
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