My Hero

by Kelly, Sahara

  “Any theories, Max?” asked Struthers, quietly.

  Max shrugged. “Well, the ex is always the most obvious suspect. And it seems that it was a crime of considerable savagery. I’d guess some kind of passion would have to be involved. Nothing neat or arranged.”

  Struthers grinned. “You like those TV shows too, do you?”

  Max grinned back. “Yup. I have to admit, they’ve lured me in.” He gazed around the room. “You have to wonder about people’s motives. Why kill Sandra? Was it sex gone wrong? Did she piss him off? What made him snap and strangle her?”

  “Can’t imagine,” answered Struthers. “Standard answer would be temper. She didn’t seem to have much in the way of worldly goods, so greed wouldn’t work. I suppose revenge is a possibility, but who on earth would carry a grudge that far?”

  Max sighed. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

  “What don’t you know?” A voice jarred on Max’s thoughts and he looked up to see Cary Stiles leaning over his shoulder.

  “Oh, hello Cary.” Peta would be pissed at this interruption.

  “Good evening, all. Having a good time? Food all right?”

  “Hello, Cary. Yes, lovely meal. Struthers and I are just leaving, and these two are about to order.” Phoebe nodded at him, and Peta gave him that royal nod that Max assumed passed as an effusive greeting in her native land.

  “Good, good,” said Cary. “You folks need anything, be sure to call me, you hear?”

  Max tried to be civil. “Thanks. We will.”

  “Well, come on, Struthers. Time to be off. Oh, and Peta...” Phoebe was pushing away from the table and Cary held her chair for her.

  “I’m going to dump another load of flea-market stuff at your place, is that okay? I’ll make time later in the week to go through it all.”

  Peta willingly agreed. “Sure. The back door to the mudroom is unlocked. Just put it in there.”

  Farewells were said, and in a surprisingly short space of time given the crowd, Max and Peta were tucking in to generous portions of lasagna, bread sticks, a nice red wine, and a delicious antipasto.

  They were spared any more of Cary Stiles’s charm, since, after a lingering and soulful gaze at Peta, his work had demanded his attention.

  Max was glad to see him leave. Damned nuisance. Drooling over her like a dog over a bone. Max’s conscience gave him a karate chop. Well, damn, sure he was doing the same thing, but it was different. His conscience sniffed in disdain. He mentally told it to go fuck itself.

  “This is sooo good,” she mumbled.

  “Mmm. Beats the hell out of beans on toast any day.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it,” she said, around a mouthful of salad.

  “I’ll save that treat for some other time, I think,” he chuckled. “By the way, does Struthers have a first name?”

  Peta sipped her wine, and then watched as he topped up her glass. “Funny thing, that. I’ve never heard one. He’s always been Struthers, as long as I can remember. I’m sure he has one, but you know how these things work. Once you’re introduced as something, that’s how you stay in people’s minds.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

  “Names can be funny things, can’t they? Like, for example, take the name ‘Tuesday’. Now that’s something that ought to be outlawed. Calling a girl that.”

  He choked on his lasagna.

  “And the image it presents...well. I ask you. Tuesday. Of course there was Tuesday Weld. She was a pretty little thing. Not much in the way of assets, though. Do you remember her?”

  Her innocent grin didn’t fool Max for a minute. This woman was on a fishing trip and damned if he couldn’t see her rod and bait quite clearly. It was pointing directly at him.

  Of course, if she licked her lips once more like that, there’d be something pointing at her, too.

  He pretended to think. “Can’t say as I do. I’m not much of a one for old movies. “

  “Ah.”

  She giggled. It was an unusual sound, coming from her, and he was charmed. He wondered how many glasses of wine she’d had, and cast a surreptitious glance at the bottle. Not more than two, he calculated. But perhaps she was one of these people who got drunk on a couple of glasses of wine.

  In the old days, he’d have called her a cheap date. Now, she was just—delightful.

  “You’re a randy little devil, aren’t you, Max?”

  “Am I?” His lips curved in a smile, unable to resist the impish mischief peeking out from her gray eyes. It was good to see her enjoying herself. Even if he did have to pull the knives out afterwards.

  “Oh yes. And you can get away with it, because you’re so bloody gorgeous.” She blinked. “Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud.”

  He looked smug. “Too late. You did. You think I’m gorgeous.”

  She blushed. “Damn. I think it’s time to go home.”

  Max couldn’t have agreed more.

  Chapter Twelve

  The glow of the porch light welcomed them as he carried her carefully to her front door.

  Peta was happy. She was in no pain, she was in Max’s arms, and he was about to take her into her own home. And close the door behind them. It was the stuff of fantasies, dreams and some very hot images that she’d tried to stifle.

  All to no avail. He only had to walk in the room and she felt her hormones stir, and when he touched her—well—they went from stir to high-speed blend in half a second.

  Just like they were doing right now.

  He was still grinning at her unwise comment, having looked at her in the car a couple of times and shaken his head. “Gorgeous, huh?”

  “You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?”

  “Nope.” His grin had widened, and was still there as he fumbled with her keys and her weight.

  She kept her hands around his neck and let him fumble. The hell with it. She was enjoying herself.

  One hand cautiously slipped to the back of his head and she permitted herself the luxury of running her fingers through the hair that tumbled over his collar. It was longer than fashionable and she’d kill him if he cut it.

  Soft and silky, it fluttered around her hand, and she stared at the mix of colors, not realizing that he’d paused at her touch.

  “Peta,” he whispered, tugging her close.

  “Mmm?”

  “I like it when you do that.”

  “Me too,” she answered idly. Her hand kept up its stroking move and she watched it until her vision was blocked. By Max’s face.

  “Perhaps you might like this as well...”

  And he kissed her.

  Catching her by surprise, his lips met hers, warm and sweet, sending a shiver of pleasure through her body. She couldn’t help herself from responding. It was, after all, what she’d craved since he first walked into her office at Mayfield Masterpieces.

  And it lived up to every expectation and then some.

  He just brushed her mouth at first, holding her tightly in his arms. She slipped her other hand more comfortably around him, and felt his tongue as it licked at her lips.

  “Open for me,” he murmured.

  She obliged. Parting her lips she let him in. Eagerly and willingly, she welcomed him, tasting wine and Italian food and Max. Sweet, sweet Max.

  He was tentative at first, moving around her mouth, learning her, just flicking his tongue against hers as if in encouragement. She flicked back and suddenly his kiss deepened.

  With a groan he slid her down his body, carefully lowering her to her own feet, but never allowing their lips to separate.

  His hands came up to her face and cradled it, moving it, angling it so that he could plunge deep. She shuddered as his touch became more demanding, his tongue darting around hers, coiling and teasing her.

  She touched his cheek with her palm, loving the slight roughness, the raspy stubble that grew there.

  He smelled good.
Like leather and man and heat. It was an intoxicating combination, and on top of the wine, just about knocked her off her feet.

  She rocked back and gasped as she inadvertently put her weight on her injured ankle.

  “Damn. This is no place to do this.” Max wrenched his mouth away from hers, opened the door and picked her up again, carrying her inside and kicking the front door shut behind him with his heel.

  The darkness of her hallway surrounded them as the light from the porch faded into obscurity. By mutual consent, they gravitated back into each other’s arms, lips meeting lips, sighs echoing sighs.

  The kiss heated up, and Peta moaned as his hands tugged her hips against him. His mouth devoured her, and she offered herself up willingly. This was Max. She was finally getting a good taste of the man of her dreams, and it was everything she’d wanted and more.

  Her brain struggled to assimilate the information while her body just struggled. She wriggled against him, feeling his cock against her through the layers of their clothing.

  In that instant, she knew that this would be the night. This would be her chance to fulfill her fantasies. So what if it was a one-night stand? So what if he left her tomorrow for someone else? She’d have this night to remember, and to judge by the hardness she was grinding herself against, it would be a hell of a night.

  He drew her breath into his mouth and gave it back, making her dizzy and sending her blood pressure skyrocketing. Trying to absorb all the sensations of this fabulous kiss was overloading her poor brain, and finally, she just gave up and surrendered.

  She let the moment take her. The moment—and the man.

  His hands were everywhere, stroking, seeking, brushing her backside and her sweater. She muttered in distress as he finally pulled back.

  “Peta,” he rasped. “I want more. I want you.”

  “Oh heavens, Max, you idiot. Can’t you tell I want you too?” She was tempted to smack him. How polished a seducer was he if he couldn’t sense by her actions that she was hot, ready, and wanted it now, please.

  Right now. Right here. On the hall floor, up against the hall wall, anywhere at all would be just fine. As long as it was within the next five seconds.

  But he was having have none of that. He shed his leather coat, tugged her free of her parka, tossed both jackets towards the hallstand and swept her up in his arms once more.

  Peta noticed the pile of clothing out of the corner of her eye and chuckled to herself. The usually dexterous and smooth Mr. Wolfe had missed his target. Good. Perhaps she was rattling him as much as he was rattling her.

  She couldn’t see his eyes as he carried her up the stairs to her room, but she could feel the heat of his body against her palm where it lay at the back of his neck. Her own flesh was rapidly approaching boiling point, and her legs were aching. Not from the injury this time, but from the need which flooded her. The need to spread her legs wide and welcome him home.

  He laid her on her bed, letting her legs dangle free over the edge, and followed her, lowering himself between her thighs and resting his weight on her breasts. She loved it and reached to pull him even closer.

  His lips returned to hers, fiercely now, his tongue a live thing that felt as if it had been waiting for the chance to dive into her mouth and settle down there.

  “Max,” she moaned, gasping for breath but unwilling to stop his kiss.

  He moved away slightly, and she almost cried.

  “Are you sure you want this, Peta?”

  Was she sure? Was she sure? She was writhing beneath him in a dreadfully wanton display of raging lust and he was asking if she was sure?

  She snorted. “If you can’t tell, then I want to know who you are and what you’ve done with Max Wolfe.”

  “Just checking.”

  His hands flew to her sweater and began undoing the buttons.

  She watched him, loving the gleam in his hot hazel eyes, the way he determinedly freed her from the clinging folds of her clothes, and feeling the wetness between her legs as her need grew.

  “Damn, how many clothes do you have on, for chrissake?” He’d stripped away her cardigan and found her thermal shirt beneath. “Is this a test or something? Undress the woman before the poor guy explodes?”

  She giggled. “Yep. You have to want me badly enough to find me.”

  “Oh no problem there, darlin’,” he muttered, unsnapping her jeans. “No problem there at all. I want...I...”

  His voice trailed off as he finally revealed her bra. “Oh, yeah. I want these.”

  He lowered his head and licked her nipple through the thin silk.

  She groaned at the feel of it, the hot pleasure of his touch on her sensitive breasts. “God, Max...”

  “So good, honey, so good,” he muttered. He kept his head lowered and offered the same attention to the other peak, bringing her nipples to an almost painful level of arousal and wetting the fabric of her bra.

  He moved back a little and just looked at them. “Lovely, Peta. ”

  “Um...they’re nowhere near Tuesday’s breasts, you know, Max.” She couldn’t help her reaction. She knew she wasn’t overly well endowed in the mammary department.

  “That’s okay. Today’s will do just fine.”

  “No, no, I meant—“

  His hands found the latch between the cups and opened it, baring her, and driving all thoughts of witty repartee clean out of her head.

  She’d loved his touch through the silk. She loved his touch to her naked skin even more. She could feel the heat now, the movement of his tongue as he found her nipple and played with it, sucking it between his lips and letting it pop back out again.

  He seemed fascinated by them, moving from one to the other, bringing each to the heights of arousal and then transferring his attentions to the other one. Peta was dizzy from his touch. Her pussy was beginning to ache and each and every swipe with that tongue of his was echoed by a dart of pleasure deep in her belly.

  It seemed hours before he raised his head and grinned at her. “Sweet,” he said.

  “More,” she answered.

  His eyes flared and he slipped her bra away from her, returning to her jeans and shoes and easing both away, taking care not to hurt her ankle. She realized he could probably whack the bloody thing with a hammer and she wouldn’t feel it.

  Her pain right now was one of need, an overwhelming, almost violent desire to get his cock inside her.

  His hands slid down her thighs, pulling her panties along with them and leaving her naked on the bed.

  And damn him, he was still dressed.

  “Max,” she whispered. “You too.”

  He smiled, a hot and sensual smile that did wonderful things for his mouth and her heart. “Help me?”

  Sure. Gimme some scissors, a knife, a machete. She’d have those clothes off him and his body stripped bare in ten seconds or less.

  “Of course.” She sat up and found herself nose-to-chest with him. Nose to a very nice chest. Which was presently covered by a sweater. Not acceptable.

  She wanted the real thing.

  Tentatively, she slipped her hands beneath the wool and found skin. Blazing hot and hard skin. Swallowing, she moved her hands up, indicating that he should get the damned thing off. It was nice and soft, and a very pretty shade of ecru, that would be a perfect match for the carpet she wanted to see it lying on. Or anything else, for that matter, as long as it wasn’t on him.

  He obliged, tugging it the rest of the way up and over his head, letting it drop to the floor.

  And there it was. That fabulous, wonderful chest of his, firm and hard, and just dusted with some glittering hairs. Exactly the way she liked chests to look. His nipples were flat brown disks and she eagerly explored them with her fingertips, brushing them at first, then growing more bold as he responded with a slight shudder.

  “Am I...is that...do you like that?” she asked. It was risky, but she let her eyes meet his.

  Oh goodness. Yes. He certainly looked like a ma
n who “liked” it.

  His cheeks were flushed, his lips a little apart, and he had a predatory look in his eyes that was not dissimilar to the animal whose name he bore.

  “You really are a wolf, aren’t you Max?”

  “Only with you,” he growled back.

  She grinned and reached for his pants. They were tighter than tight across his cock, and she carefully unfastened them and spread the fly apart, revealing his briefs, which were struggling to contain that part of him she wanted more than anything.

  “Oh dear. It looks most uncomfortable. Let’s see what we can do about it.” Gently, she eased the briefs away from him, leaning down and pushing both them and his jeans lower onto his thighs.

  His cock nearly took her eye out as she released him, and she moved her head aside with a gasp. “Bloody hell.” The wine had loosened her tongue and she said the first thing that came into her mind. “It’ll never fit.”

  He grinned tautly. “Oh yes it will. Like it was made for you, honey.”

  She stared at him. “Are you sure?”

  “Not a doubt in my mind.”

  She returned her gaze to his cock, and wondered again at its size. It seemed enormous to her, although she admittedly had little to compare it against. It jutted towards her from its nest of sandy hair, and she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for it.

  “Do you mind if I...?”

  “Peta,” he sighed. “I don’t mind anything you do. I am yours. Use me as you wish. But...”

  She looked up again as he paused.

  “Be gentle with me?”

  She snickered. “Right. Of course.”

  And strangely enough, she was gentle with him. Fascinated by the ridges and veins of his cock, she explored it, running her fingers over its silky hardness and then discovering his balls beneath. She’d never had the chance to get quite so familiar with a man’s personal parts, and she took full advantage of it.

  Only when a little groan distracted her, did she look up.

  “Honey, you’re killing me here. How about you let me play for a while now? Fair is fair.”

  With a smooth move, he pushed her backwards onto the bed and took over. And God, did he take over.

  Suddenly, she was surrounded by his heat, and the feel of his naked body next to hers. She felt her sex begin to weep hot tears as he swept his hands over her, and she bit back a cry as he found her nipples once again. My goodness, did he like to play with her nipples.