For Just Cause

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For Just Cause Page 11

by Kara Lennox


  “I’m already protected,” she said when she saw what he was up to. “But I like it that you’re prepared for any situation, Mr. Boy Scout.”

  “And I’m no Boy Scout.” He opened the condom packet despite her assertion. “You should insist on this no matter what. From me or anybody else.” Although he had no reason to believe he would be a risk for her, because he was always careful, she didn’t know that.

  “You’re right, of course. I should know better.” She took the packet from him and pulled out the condom. “No reason this can’t be part of the fun.”

  She made it fun, smoothing the latex over him slowly, carefully, as if it were the most important, serious task in the world and she had to get it just right.

  “Oh, querida. You about done there?”

  She grinned. “I’m nowhere near done with you.” She shifted slightly, parting her legs so he rested between them.

  As much as he wanted to just bury himself in her, he was still half-afraid of hurting her. Though she’d proved she wasn’t quite the pampered, sheltered flower of a woman that she showed to the rest of the world, she was small. She had the slimmest hips of any woman he’d ever been with, which meant she might be small elsewhere, too. And not that he would brag, but he was a realist and he wasn’t exactly a pencil.

  He lifted himself up and rearranged them so he could caress her thighs, then the soft folds between her legs.

  “Mmm. I’m ready, you know. You don’t have to—”

  “I know I don’t have to do anything. I want to.”

  “Thought you were in a hurry.”

  “I’m on the edge,” he admitted. “But I do have control.” With that he dipped one finger inside her.

  She was warm and wet, and almost humming with pleasure, sighing and closing her eyes. As he delved deeper, he imagined his shaft sliding where his finger was and he had to bite his lip to distract himself. If the imagined pleasure was that good, what would it be like for real?

  Fingers wet with her juices, he lightly grazed her nub and earned a sharp gasp and an uncharacteristic giggle. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Claudia giggle before.

  “Billy! Don’t you dare end this early. I want you inside me when I…when I…oh.” She grabbed his hand and physically dragged it away from her body. “Now, Billy. No more messing around.”

  He loved his name on her lips. He would never tire of hearing her beg him to do her.

  “No more messin’ around.” He shifted into the cradle of her legs and poised himself at her entrance, taking a deep breath to prepare himself for the onslaught of sensation.

  Claudia grabbed on to both of his butt cheeks with those delicate but strong and capable hands, urging him closer. She would have enveloped him in one strong thrust if he’d allowed it. But he forced himself to take it slow, pushing inside her inch by inch, reveling in each new sensory impression. If this was going to be their only time together—and he had to recognize that possibility—he would make it count.

  She took him deep, all the way. They were a perfect fit. He paused and looked at her eyes, really seeing the color for the first time. The bright grass-green with flecks of gold reminded him of precious gems, fathomless and reflecting both determination and vulnerability.

  They remained that way for several long, deep breaths, locked together but not moving, staring into each other’s eyes. He couldn’t recall any other time he had joined with a woman this way, claiming not only her body, but her full, emotional attention.

  Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d made love anywhere but a dark bedroom, where seeing anyone’s eyes was impossible.

  Claudia wrapped her incredibly long legs around his hips, changing their angle of contact as she hooked her ankles together.

  He groaned in response as her muscles tightened on his shaft, and he hadn’t even started moving yet.

  But he did, slowly at first. She was warm and wet and tight around him, the slick friction of her womanhood a bold caress against his erection. He’d never felt anything like it. Which seemed crazy, but everything about this coupling was crazy, larger than life, the stuff of fantasy.

  She was his fantasy, that cool blonde type he’d always yearned for, though God knew why. Yet she wasn’t cool now. Her flesh burned hot beneath his hands where he gently squeezed her breasts and explored the intriguing angles and curves of her shoulder, her neck, her little pink ears with their understated gold hoop earrings.

  He needed to kiss her some more. Her lips were already swollen and rosy-pink from his earlier kisses, reminding him of her other lips. He claimed them again, a voracious, hard kiss that involved teeth and tongue. She gave as good as she got, proving her hunger was every bit as sharp as his. With each thrust of his hips, she raised up to greet him, tilting her pelvis to take him deeper still and making quiet mewling sounds in the back of her throat, as if she couldn’t quite contain her pleasure.

  When his climax came, it was explosive. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, stifling his triumphant cry as he came. Surge after surge of ecstasy moved through his body like an electric current. As the pleasure slowly subsided, he actually checked to make sure he was still breathing, that his heart was still beating.

  Men had been known to die in situations like this, but fortunately he had a strong constitution.

  He was embarrassed to realize he had no idea if she’d found her own release. The words Was it good for you? trembled on the tip of his tongue, but he resisted saying them aloud. He wasn’t some green kid bedding his first woman. He was savvy enough to pick up her thoughts on this episode without an interrogation.

  Billy angled himself to one side, suddenly conscious of his hundred and ninety pounds sprawled across her delicate frame. “Am I hurting you?”

  “Huh.” She said it like a laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

  He smiled, then blew on her chest to cool her. She was as damp with perspiration as he was. Though he was utterly spent, he still enjoyed watching her nipples pucker at the touch of his breath.

  “Well,” he said.

  “Exactly,” she said.

  He didn’t want to play games with Claudia. So though it might not be hip to be so straightforward, he told her exactly what was on his mind.

  “That was one for the history books.”

  She smiled, and even gave a little chuckle. “Yup.”

  “You’re incredible.”

  “Thank you. I’ve definitely had worse than you.”

  Now that they’d caught their breath, Billy became more aware of their surroundings—the hum of the air conditioner, the muffled traffic outside, a siren in the distance.

  This was the trickiest moment of sex—how to end it. This was usually the time a woman would express her emotions, wanting to nail down the exact nature of their relationship, the exact degree of his commitment, which, he admitted, was usually zero.

  Under ordinary circumstances, Billy was keen to escape the minefield of postcoital conversation. He usually invented some place he needed to be.

  Claudia knew his schedule. She knew he wanted to meet with the Project Justice team and regroup, find a new angle for proving Mary-Francis’s innocence to the district attorney. It would be perfectly natural for him to look at his watch, spring to his feet and declare he had to get going because a woman’s life was at stake.

  But he didn’t move. It felt amazing to lie there with Claudia in his arms, relaxed and open like he’d never seen her.

  “How soon before Kimmy checks on us?” Billy asked.

  “A few more minutes.”

  “Good.” Oddly, he was the one who felt like talking. “Um, Claudia…I take it bringing men into your office on your lunch hour isn’t the norm for you.”

  “Nooo. There are only so many ‘suicidal’ emergency appointments I can claim before Kimmy would get suspicious.”

  “You could just tell her the truth.”

  “If this ever got to be a regular option for me, I guess I’d have to. But I’
ll cross that bridge when I come to it, if I ever do.”

  She sure didn’t sound as though she was pressing for a commitment. He should be delighted, but for some reason he wasn’t. Maybe because she didn’t sound as though she was pressing for a repeat performance, either.

  “I haven’t had a regular man in my life in a very long time,” she mused. “College, in fact.”

  That seemed off. A woman like Claudia could wink and crook her little finger and have just about any man she wanted. “Why not?”

  “I told you before. Most men, I can tell exactly what they’re thinking, and it’s not pretty. But there was one man who fooled me.”

  More than one, now, he wanted to add. They had already proved she couldn’t read him. He knew he was supposed to encourage her to elaborate. But this was one of the tricky parts. She would trust him with some intimate secret, then he was expected to reciprocate.

  That was how it worked in the undercover world, as well. And he was a much better player at this game than she realized.

  “This man appeared to be exactly the sort of guy I was looking for.”

  “And it turned out he had a string of girlfriends, I bet,” Billy said. “Was he one of those chameleon types, who could be whatever a woman wanted him to be?”

  “Exactly. But that string of girlfriends? They were all dead.”

  “Wh—what?” Suddenly the conversation had become more demanding than the standard after-sex banter.

  “My last boyfriend was a serial killer. He locked his victims in a warehouse and hunted them with a bow and arrow. I was next on his list, and he would have carried out his plans for me, if one of his victims hadn’t escaped and summoned help.”

  “Your last boyfriend was Raymond Bass?” Everybody knew about that case. It had generated worldwide publicity. “Oh, my God, now I know why your real name sounded familiar to me. You identified him. You testified.”

  “Yup. Pretty funny, me a wannabe psychologist and I couldn’t spot the deadly sociopath I was dating. Having sex with.”

  Billy didn’t want to think about Claudia having sex with anyone but him. He squeezed his eyes closed, willing the mental image away. “Some guys are just really, really good at what they do.” It was the only comforting sentiment he could come up with.

  “I’ve come to realize that.”

  Suddenly her choice of a lover’s tryst made a lot of sense. She didn’t trust him. She couldn’t read him, therefore he might be a psycho killer.

  “I need to know, Billy,” she said with aching sincerity. “You’re hiding something from me, something about your past, and until I know what it is, I won’t feel safe. I can’t feel safe.”

  Now came the part where he reassured her that he wasn’t some crazy killer, that she should trust him. That she was welcome to know anything about him.

  That wasn’t going to happen.

  He felt a keen sense of disappointment that he couldn’t make her happy in this respect. But no matter how compelling her need to get inside his head—and it did go beyond mere curiosity, he had to admit—he couldn’t oblige her.

  “I’m not a serial killer.” He could at least go that far. “Daniel had me investigated six ways to Sunday before I could be a part of Project Justice.”

  His argument failed to convince her. He could see it in the pleading way she looked at him.

  “I’m not going to confess all my sins to you, Claudia. I don’t need a therapist. If I feel a need to confess something, I’ll see a priest.”

  She nodded, quietly accepting his decision. “If you change your mind, I’m always here. I won’t judge.”

  Yeah, she would. He’d been a macho cop determined to bring down a bad guy, and he’d made a foolhardy decision that had cost an innocent woman her life.

  She wouldn’t be human if she didn’t judge him based on that. It was hideous.

  Time for him to leave. He sat up with one final caress to her hair, then began searching for his clothes.

  “I have a private bathroom through that door,” she said, pointing.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll swing by home, grab a shower.”

  She froze, very briefly, but he could tell his impending abandonment took her by surprise. However, she quickly covered her reaction. “Okay. I’ll just freshen up, then.” She grabbed a throw from the back of the sofa and wrapped herself in it, sari style, knotting it just above her breasts. “Keep me posted on the case, and let me know if you need me.”

  “I will.” He stood, unselfconscious about his nudity, and gathered up his clothes. She nodded and disappeared through a carved oak door with a brass plaque marked Private.

  Billy blew out a breath. He felt like a complete shit. But hadn’t he known Claudia would ultimately want something he wasn’t prepared to give?

  CHAPTER NINE

  CLAUDIA TURNED THE water as hot as she could stand it and stood under the spray, scrubbing herself vigorously with her bath puff and green-tea-scented shower gel until her skin was pink. She washed her hair, too, wanting to make sure no remnant of Billy’s scent remained on her.

  Not only would it be hard to explain to Kimmy, who was far too bright and curious for her own good, but any remaining eau de Billy would remind Claudia of him.

  She didn’t want to be reminded of her idiocy in having midday office sex with Billy.

  As she rinsed the shampoo, she hummed a song from an old musical about washing a man out of her hair, only she was washing him out of her life, too. She was done.

  If she had to see him professionally, that was one thing. She could handle that. But no more intimate meals, no more confessions and definitely no more sex.

  She had told Billy things no one knew about her, not even her best girlfriends. These were things she’d sworn to herself she would never reveal. If anyone found out she had unwittingly dated a serial killer, it could destroy her credibility. It could end her career.

  Claudia had been on the news when Raymond was arrested. She’d been the one to go to the police with her suspicions when she’d seen a sketch of the suspected serial killer on the news, and the media had found out. She had testified in court.

  When it was all over, she’d had her name legally changed, attended grad school in a different state and radically altered her appearance.

  Daniel knew. She’d had to explain the name change, which Mitch had ferreted out when he’d done a background check on her. Neither Daniel nor Mitch would ever reveal her secret, of that she was pretty sure.

  But a lover—soon to be officially an ex-lover, she supposed—was a different matter altogether.

  Why had she been so stupid as to put herself in such a vulnerable position? But she knew that answer. She’d hoped that by revealing more of herself, Billy would feel comfortable opening up to her. Instead, he’d closed himself off even more tightly.

  She didn’t know Billy, not really. He had one secret that she knew of, and if he had one, he could have a hundred. Some people were very good at compartmentalizing their lives. A man could be a regular churchgoer, loving to his wife and kids, a pillar of the community, and on the side he could be stalking underage girls.

  She didn’t want to believe anything bad about Billy. But if he did engage in some deviant behavior, how would she know? She was pretty good at spotting when people were off-kilter. They often gave themselves away with odd quirks, or by being almost too perfect in other ways.

  But she couldn’t always ferret out the truth. No one could. Especially when people possessed that weird ability to hide their feelings, the ability that both Billy and Raymond displayed.

  Billy had caused someone’s death. She knew that. Not knowing the whole story simply wasn’t an acceptable option for her, not if she was going to get involved with him.

  So she wouldn’t get involved. Period. Let those secrets remain between him and his priest—if he even had a…

  Oh, my God.

  She turned off the water and quickly dried off, then climbed back into her suit. The
pale turquoise skirt and jacket weren’t as crisp as when she’d started out this morning, but they would have to do.

  Still barefoot, she padded across her office to her desk and picked up the phone, dialing Billy’s number from memory. “C’mon, pick up.”

  The call rolled over to voice mail. Had he intentionally refused to take her call because he was afraid she would try to turn their tryst into more than he wanted it to be? Or maybe he was driving or still in the shower. She had to stop overthinking this and do what she’d set out to do.

  “Billy, it’s Claudia. I thought of something, another avenue to investigate. Give me a call when you can and I’ll explain.” After she hung up, she realized she should have just told his voice mail of the epiphany she’d had in the shower. Now he would have to call her back.

  Had she subconsciously withheld the information so he would have to call her back? Because he would. He might want to keep his distance from her, but when it came to the case, if he thought she had helpful information, he wouldn’t hesitate just because their brief experimentation had ended in stalemate.

  Claudia had appointments all afternoon, people she’d been shuffling around for days since she got involved in the quest to prove Mary-Francis’s innocence. She did her best to concentrate on her patients’ problems, to give them the very best she could. But it was hard to focus on the angst of a colleague’s teenage daughter over a breakup with her boyfriend when Mary-Francis was headed for a lethal injection and the man she supposedly murdered was out there somewhere.

  Between appointments, she checked her cell phone, and also checked with Kimmy in case Billy had called her office number. But she didn’t hear from him.

  It wasn’t until she was straightening up her office at the end of the day that she discovered why. His cell phone was wedged between two sofa cushions. He must have silenced the ringer, because she hadn’t heard it ringing when she’d called it earlier.

  She didn’t have a home number for him, and the Project Justice offices would be closed by now. But she did have an address.

 

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