by J. E. Taylor
Steve turned back to her, shaking his leg and allowing a smirk to grace his lips at her answer.
“I have to go.” She hung up without waiting for an answer and crossed her legs, pointing toward the bathroom. “Does the plumbing work?”
Steve nodded. “It should.” He continued limping around the cottage, his leg hurting from the pins and needles prickling through his waking skin. He glanced at his watch and his eyes went wide. “Oh, Shit!” He stumbled toward the bathroom. “Jen, it’s after nine,” he said to the closed door.
The door flew open seconds later. “What time did you say it was?” Her eyes were wide.
“It’s nine-thirty.” He slid past her, closing the door behind him.
Steve came out a few minutes later. His clothing disheveled and he looked around the room. “I missed my first class.” He gathered his things.
“I don’t have my schedule with me.” Jennifer looked at him as she hand combed her hair.
“Neither do I.”
They stopped frantically running around the cabin and looked at each other. He started laughing first and then she joined in.
“No, you don’t understand,” he said through the laughter. “My boss is teaching the eight o’clock class.”
Her eyebrows went up as she continued to laugh. “Oooo, you’re in trouble,” she taunted.
He shot across the room and wrapped his arms around her. “It was worth it, waking up with you.” He kissed her and took her hand as he led her out of the cabin. “But I am going to get reamed, truly reamed,” he added locking the door.
“The food?”
“I’ll clean up later. I have to shoot over to the frat house and get my damn schedule.” He slid into his car and took off like a bat out of hell, leaving a dust cloud in his wake.
Chapter 13
Steve skidded to a halt in front of the fraternity house and ran in. Quickly changing into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, he reached for his schedule and a notebook, and flew back out. His cell began to ring as he turned the key in the ignition. He flipped the phone open and put it on speaker. “What?”
“It’s Professor Murphy. You missed my class this morning.”
“I overslept,” Steve grumbled, shifting gears. Late for his third class of the day—so much for being the model college student.
“Please tell me you at least have more information for me than you did yesterday,” Agent Murphy snapped into the phone.
“No,” Steve replied, and slid into a spot in the student parking lot. “I have to go. I’m late for my next class.” He heard his superior swear under his breath. “Pledging starts this week,” he added as he closed the door. “I’m sure I’ll have some more information for you before the end of the week.” He flipped the phone closed, consulted his schedule and headed in the general direction of the lecture hall. Many of the people he passed stopped and stared at him. Entering the building, he glanced down at his shirt and almost laughed aloud. It was inside out. Veering into the bathroom, he stripped and slipped the shirt on the right way and glanced in the mirror. His eye and cheek were purple with blue around the edges and his hair disheveled to the point of unruly. “No wonder everyone was staring.” He wet his hands and smoothed his hair back, combing it into place. Satisfied, he slipped out and into the back row of the lecture hall, hoping he’d go unnoticed.
“Good of you to join us. Mr. Williams, I presume?” The professor turned and stared him down.
Steve smiled awkwardly. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Every eye in the class turned in his direction.
“If you can’t make it in time for my class, you’d better drop out now because I will not tolerate tardiness. This is your one and only warning.” He turned back and continued where he had left off.
Steve opened his notebook and glanced around. Everyone had turned his or her attention back to the professor. Glancing at his schedule, he grimaced. He had public relations next. That must be a mistake. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the lecture, but his mind was restless. It kept wandering back to Jennifer.
“Are we boring you, Mr. Williams?”
Steve’s eyes flew open. “No, I listen better with my eyes closed.”
The professor pursed his lips. “If that is the case, what was I just discussing?”
“The Miranda rights and the effect they have on the interrogation process.”
The professor’s face turned red. With a nod of satisfaction, he continued the lecture.
Steve glanced at the student next to him and offered her a shrug. He focused his attention on the lecture and closed his eyes again, leaning back in the seat. As he half listened, his mind rattled off everything he learned the last couple of days. A nagging feeling gnawed in the pit of his stomach, masked by the pangs of hunger. Damn it, I’m missing something significant here. He leaned forward, doodling in his notebook.
He needed to get back in the good graces of his fraternity brothers in the next couple of days. He had alienated Bill and that wasn’t a wise thing to do—after all, he was the president of the fraternity. Click. Steve looked up. How was it that the president of his fraternity wasn’t dating a sorority girl? He leaned back in the seat and pretended to focus on the professor. He couldn’t play this game with Jennifer anymore, not if he wanted to remain close to Bill Tyler. He closed his eyes at the next thought, his head dipping slightly. I’m gonna need to use my relationship with Jennifer. He smiled slightly. Sometimes this job does suck.
Steve checked his watch. He still had a few minutes until class was over. He took the syllabus out. Damn, he’d have to do some work this semester if he couldn’t crack the case before long. He sighed, looking back at his notebook. He stared at the paper. His eyes darted around the room and back down at his doodling. He blinked and looked again. Scrawled across the middle of the paper in red were words that stunned him.
She is mine.
The handwriting definitely wasn’t his. He had written Jennifer’s name several times on the paper and they all had the crisp sharp edges of the blue ballpoint pen he held. Those words hadn’t been there when he opened the notebook. Fuzzy edges, like a felt tip pen on a paper towel. He flipped the page, and then flipped through all the pages. The deep red scrawl reminding him of blood graced every single page in the composition booklet. He slammed the notebook closed, gaining the attention of the room once again.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Williams?” The professor asked, obviously annoyed at the interruption.
Steve fumbled this time. He looked down at his notebook and back up again, trying not to shiver noticeably. “I… ah… no. No problem.”
The professor studied him and then looked around. “That concludes today’s lecture.”
Steve bolted out of the room before the professor could get another barb in. He walked unsteadily out of the building and toward the adjacent lecture hall where his next class was. Preoccupied with the crimson scribbles in his notebook, he nearly plowed someone over. “Sorry,” he mumbled absently without really seeing the person he had almost flattened.
“Steve?”
Her voice brought him back and he snapped his head toward her. His eyes still haunted by what he had seen.
“Are you okay?” Jennifer asked. He hadn’t even noticed her. He hadn’t noticed anyone.
“I… ah...” His eyes shot between her and the notebook. “I don’t know.”
“What’s wrong?”
He glanced at the notebook, afraid to open it.
“What happened?”
He shook his head and looked around. “Something really weird. It doesn’t fit in my black and white world.”
Jennifer raised her eyebrows.
He took a breath and held it while opening the notebook. The words glared out among the doodles.
She is mine.
He flipped through the pages, showing her the bleed-through letters gracing each sheet. “It wasn’t there when I opened the notebook.”
Jennife
r stared at his doodles then up at him in confusion. “You wrote my name, several times.”
Steve blinked and stepped back. He looked from the page to her. He flipped to a page he hadn’t doodled on and held it up for her to see.
“It’s blank,” she replied, looking at him like he was just shy of a full deck.
“You can’t see that?” He stepped back again.
“See what?”
He scanned the paper and then raised his eyes to her as an urge took hold. He leaned over and planted a kiss. As he pulled away, he held up the notebook.
He must die.
Jennifer’s eyes went wide. She saw the words and they terrified her. They seemed to be bleeding on the page itself.
He closed the notebook. “Not very black and white, now is it?”
Jennifer shook her head. “He must die? What does that mean?”
Steve’s brow creased. He flipped the notebook open. “It says, she is mine.”
Jennifer looked down.
He must die.
“I’m seeing He must die and it looks like the page is bleeding.”
Jennifer’s flesh broke out in goose bumps as Steve closed the notebook. He flipped his wrist so he could see the face of his watch. “I’ve got a class starting any minute.”
“So do I.”
Steve sighed, his eyes flipping between her and the notebook as though he were debating whether to go to class or take the time to analyze the problem.
“I missed my first class. I can’t miss the next one,” Jennifer said, reading the look on his face. “Neither can you.”
Steve nodded. They walked without talking and when they both turned into the same lecture hall, Jennifer raised an eyebrow.
“Public relations?”
“I guess my boss thought I needed it.” He shrugged and took the seat next to her in the back row.
Jennifer put her hand over her mouth to stifle the laugh.
“Fuck you,” he whispered. He looked at his notebook. “Do you have a piece of paper?” He didn’t want to open the notebook again.
Jennifer ripped off a sheet from her pad and handed it to him.
The class surprised Steve. It was actually interesting. He glanced at Jennifer and raised his eyebrows, nodded and shrugged at one point. She just smiled in return. He slid the notes into the notebook without opening it and stood at the end of class. “That wasn’t bad.”
“Communications classes aren’t all fun and games.”
“Yes, they are,” he said. He walked outside. “You should try criminal law sometime.”
Jennifer hit him in the arm with her pad and stopped when Steve sent a glare her way.
“We have company. It’s time to act, babe.”
“You have got to be the cockiest son of a bitch I ever met,” Jennifer said, loud enough to be heard by Tracy and Bill, who were now less than thirty feet from them.
Steve stopped and turned toward her. “Look who’s talking.” He took a threatening step toward her. “Princess.” He spat the words at her. “You’re just a pampered bitch.”
Jennifer reached up to slap his face and Steve caught her hand easily. Tracy and Bill sprinted to reach them.
Steve dropped his notebook and yanked her to him, wrapping his arm around her waist and looking into her green eyes. “You should try a real man some time.” He planted a kiss on her, crushing her lips under his.
Tracy and Bill stopped short, their mouths hanging open. Jennifer’s free hand slowly slid up his arm and around his neck.
Jennifer could feel his heart beating against her as he kissed her in mock anger. He slowly released her wrist and plunged his hand into her thick hair. The kiss deepened. Jen lost herself in the heat of it, forgetting she was supposed to be acting, forgetting the words she read in the notebook. She just melted into him.
Steve pulled away and the edges of his lips curled in a slight smile as their eyes met. He stepped away and picked up the notebook.
Jennifer’s face flushed and her chest rose and fell noticeably. The urge to fly into his arms again overwhelmed her, but she resisted. Tracy and Bill misinterpreted the intensity of her stare, thinking she was livid.
Bill reached to grab Steve. “Son of a bitch.”
Steve reacted, knocking his arm away. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned Bill and glanced back at Jennifer.
“Fuck you,” Jennifer blurted, her voice hoarse, her chest heaving a little less.
Steve raised his eyebrow and in two strides was standing over her again. “When?”
Jennifer saw Bill start toward Steve. “Back off, Bill, I can handle this,” she said, her eyes returning back to Steve’s. Steve winked down at her and she had to suppress the smile that wanted to surface.
Bill stopped short and exchanged a look with Tracy.
“You couldn’t handle it,” she shot up at Steve.
“Want to bet?” he asked, his voice low and sultry, making her break out in shivers of anticipation.
“You aren’t man enough.”
“Oh, yes, I am.” He took her in his arms and kissed her again. This time it was slow and seductive, his hands sliding around her waist, pulling her close. “I can handle you any time I want,” he said, pulling his lips away from hers. “Right, babe?” He smiled down at her.
“Like you did yesterday?” She smiled up at him and they turned to look at Bill and Tracy. They looked identical, arms hanging by their sides, mouths agape and eyes wide. “Or last night.” She grinned at her roommate.
“You bitch,” Tracy gasped, staring at Jennifer. “I was so worried about you last night.”
Jennifer smiled at Steve. “I was in good hands.”
“So this was all a game?” Bill asked, gawking between Jennifer and Steve.
“Pretty much,” Steve answered.
“You let me hit you?”
“I didn’t see it coming; otherwise you wouldn’t have touched me.” Steve looked down into Jennifer’s eyes. He moved so he stood next to her with one arm around her waist, facing Tracy and Bill.
Tracy kept swinging her gaze back and forth, digesting the information.
“I have half a mind to belt you again,” Bill said. He put his arm around Tracy’s shoulders.
Steve shrugged. “We got tired of people trying to set us up on blind dates and when you told me who you wanted me to meet, well…” he paused, shrugged, and glanced down at her. “We were neighbors as kids and our parents kept in touch. I called her and gave her the heads-up.”
“You knew each other?” Tracy gasped.
“Yep,” Jennifer said.
Tracy put her hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes. “So you planned this all along?”
Jennifer just smiled.
Steve glanced at her. “Yes.”
Jennifer looked up at him, knowing her fondness was visible in her eyes.
“So we were right,” Tracy said smugly.
“As much as I hate to admit it, yeah, you were right,” Jennifer said to her roommate.
Bill looked at his watch. “Trac, we have to boogie.” He glanced at the two of them and shook his head. “I’ll see you back at the frat house.” He pointed at Steve and broke out in a wide grin.
Steve escorted Jennifer to his car, his arm firmly planted around her waist. “You do improv pretty well.” He grinned as he opened the car door for her.
Jennifer hesitated. “My car is over there.” She pointed.
“I know. Get in,” he replied, and watched her slip into the passenger seat.
He drove back to the cottage. “I’ve got to clean up the mess from last night,” he explained, turning off the car. “You can go down on the dock or whatever while I take care of the food, okay?”
“I can help, you know,” Jennifer said.
“If you come inside with me, I won’t do what I came here to do.”
“So you can’t handle it.” She smiled, daring him to shirk his duties.
Steve returned her salacious grin. “I can handle
you just fine.”
“Really?”
Steve looked at his watch and then up at her. “Really?” He headed to the door.
Jennifer followed and watched him flip the light switch. The light went on in response and he looked over his shoulder at her. “They finally turned my service back on. I’ve got all the modern conveniences now.”
He grabbed a garbage bag and dropped the barely-touched to-go containers in, tying it closed. He put the silverware and wine glasses in the sink and looked at the half-empty bottle of wine. Shaking his head slightly, he poured it down the sink. As he walked out of the kitchen, he picked up the cuffs on the edge of the table, walking toward her with a wicked smile.
“What did you say about handcuffs yesterday afternoon?” He dangled them from his index finger.
“Oh, no, you don’t! I’m still pissed at you for chaining me to the chair.” Jennifer started to back away from him toward the bedroom.
“You were adventurous enough to come inside.” He went after her, catching her easily, tossing the cuffs on the bed, and stripping her shirt and bra off.
Jennifer laughed when he picked her up and put her on the bed.
He grabbed her wrist and slid the cuffs on lightly. He threaded the cuff through the bars on the headboard and secured her free wrist, grinning down at her.
His blue eyes sparkled and the smile on his face made her tremble. “Are you going to interrogate me again?” Her voice slightly shook.
He ran his hands gently from her wrists down her arms, slowly, touching her skin with his fingertips. “Oh, yes,” he whispered and leaned down to kiss her. “Every inch of your lovely body.” He kissed her neck and nibbled on her ear, chuckling softly at the shiver coursing through her. He ran the tip of his tongue down her neckline, gently stroking her breast in his hand. Moving his mouth to her nipple, he ran his tongue around it playfully. He continued his interrogation of her body with his hands and mouth, loving her like she never thought possible.
Wave after wave of ecstasy coursed through her at his hands, making her gasp and shiver, moan and climax over and over until she begged for him.
He slid inside her, his eyes wild with passion, his face flushed with heat, but he took his time, moving his hips slowly, watching her face as she peaked again, this time calling his name. He closed his eyes and let the passion sweep him away, arching into her with his own internal explosion, her name on his lips. He trembled, his muscles shuddering into relaxation. “My god,” he breathed and reached for the keys on the dresser, unlocking the cuffs.