Passionate Kisses

by Various

  “I’ve got it, thanks.” Trav took a sip of his beer. “Pretty earrings, Liz.”

  She felt the dangling spirals. “Thank you.”

  Ryan growled, and Trav merely laughed. “It’s too easy,” Trav said. “Just too easy.”

  Liz looked between the two brothers. She’d never understand men.

  “See what you’re getting into,” Maggie warned with a laugh.

  Liz took a healthy swallow of wine. “Bring it on.”

  All three brothers laughed.

  ~ ~ ~

  Late that night, Liz stood on Ryan’s doorstep. She’d left the barbecue hours ago, but hadn’t been able to sleep. She just kept replaying that kiss at Trav’s house. She called him on her cell, so he’d know it was her at the door at this late hour. She heard his footsteps, and the door swung open.

  He smiled wolfishly. “Miss me?”

  She said nothing, merely stepped inside and peeled off her tank top.

  In an instant, he was on her, hands roaming up and down her bare back as he kissed her, hot and demanding. He pulled back to look her in the eye. “No thank you notes this time.”

  “No thank you notes,” she agreed. She licked her lips as she stared at his mouth.

  He nibbled gently along her ear. “Tell me what you want.” His voice vibrated in her ear, making her shiver.

  “I wanted to join you in that shower today,” she admitted.

  He grabbed her hand, and they raced up the stairs. Liz giggled over his urgency. He turned on the water, and while it heated, he peeled off her shorts, groaned at her silk no-line panties and peeled them down too, pausing to kiss her intimately below. Her knees gave out. Steam billowed out from the shower. “Shower,” she croaked.

  He stripped and stepped into the shower, setting a condom on the edge of the tub. She caught a glance at the puckered scar on his shoulder.

  She joined him in the shower and ran a hand over the scar. “How did this happen?”

  “Old wound from when I was a cop.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, silencing any further questions with a demanding kiss. His knowing hand proceeded to remind her why her late night visit had been a very good idea.

  Within minutes, she was wild for him and practically climbed his body, wrapping her arms and legs around him.

  “Not yet.” He set her down to grab the condom while she ran her hand up and down his magnificent erection. “You’re killing me.” He quickly rolled it on and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs tight around him. He matched her urgency as they came together, finding a natural rhythm. She felt wonderful and free, so very free.

  After they were both sated and overheated from the water and each other, Ryan snagged a towel and wrapped her in it. She stepped out of the shower.

  He wrapped a towel around his waist and joined her. “I love that you have a wild side.”

  “I do?” He’d once said she was the opposite of wild.

  “You look all buttoned up to the rest of the world, but with me you’re just yourself. Right? Wild on the inside.”

  Liz smiled. “That’s right.” She liked that description. She’d never thought of herself that way, but Ryan brought that out in her. “I’ll be right back.”

  She ran downstairs for her purse. Back in his room, she pulled a black lace cami and short set from her purse and dressed. Another purchase from the Secret store. After he’d seen her in her Snoopy T-shirt, she didn’t want him to think she only wore frumpy T-shirts to bed.

  “Nice,” he said from across the room, where he’d pulled on some fresh briefs. She smiled and headed for the bathroom with the small overnight kit of toiletries she’d tucked in her purse. She brushed her teeth and flossed. She had just started to brush out her hair when he grabbed her from behind. She shrieked.

  “You scared me!”

  “You look hot in black.” He turned her and kissed her.

  She pulled away, her heart still racing. “I have to finish—”

  “After,” he told her before his lips met hers. She moaned as she sank into the kiss, knowing she was lost.

  She woke before dawn again, unable to let herself get too used to him, to the intimacy of spending the morning together. He was sprawled on his back, one arm thrown across her stomach. She gently lifted his arm and shifted out from under it. Then she slipped out of bed, turned, and neatly folded her side of the bed. Ryan was still in a deep sleep. She was tempted to wake him for more love-making—sex, call it what it is—but she needed to keep it casual.

  Fun night.

  Thank you.

  ~ ~ ~

  Ryan drove with Trav to a Norwalk Tigers game and puzzled over Liz. She’d come over five nights in a row only to take off her clothes, do it, and leave while he was sleeping. He was usually the one who left early with some excuse after sex. It was pissing him off.

  And they never went out anywhere. She’d declined his dinner invitation again, said she was busy this weekend. He was beginning to think she only wanted him for sex. He stopped at a light and blew out an exasperated breath. There was no way around it.

  He was a boy toy.

  “You okay there?” Trav asked. “Mooning over Liz?”

  Ryan socked him in the arm. “Shut up.”

  Trav chuckled.

  By the time he parked and they found their seats, Ryan told himself to forget trying to figure out Liz. It was what it was. End of story.

  He bought them some popcorn from a passing vendor. It was a great night for a game. Not too hot.

  “I saw Dad,” Trav said, looking straight ahead.

  Ryan stared at him. “You too?”

  “Yeah.” Trav ate his popcorn and watched the field.

  “So, why’d you do it?”

  “Curious, I guess. Shane said he’d been sober for a while.”

  Ryan waited in silence for Trav to spill. He didn’t. Just kept eating popcorn, reading the scoreboard trivia quiz.

  “What’d he want?” Ryan finally asked.

  “He apologized—”

  “Like that makes it all better.”

  Trav sat up straighter in his seat. “Game’s starting. They’ve got some good players. This guy pitched a no-hitter last week.”

  Ryan let it go. What do I care about the old man? I didn’t need him then, and I sure as hell don’t need him now. “You following the Tigers now?”

  “I pick ’em up on the radio.”

  Strange. Trav was a die-hard Yankees fan, unlike most every other person in Connecticut that held true to the Red Sox. He’d never known Trav to follow minor league ball. The Tigers weren’t even affiliated with the Yanks.

  He focused on the game again. The pitcher was phenomenal. The inning ended, and the Tigers took the bat.

  “Rodriguez had a two ninety-seven batting average last year,” Trav said. “This year, he’s looking good to top it. He’s at two sixty-five.”

  Ryan stared at his brother, who stared unblinking at the batter.

  Rodriguez got a hit. The crowd cheered. Trav merely turned to see who was up next. “Bryant,” he said. “Last year he had ten home runs, batting average two fifty-eight.”

  “You get all that from the radio?” Ryan asked.

  “Nah,” Trav said, never taking his eyes off the batter, “I looked them up online.”

  “You did research?” Since when did Trav care so much about minor league ball? Is he betting?

  “Yeah.” Trav muttered the stats of the next batter.

  “Why?”

  “Why not?” He chomped on some popcorn, his eyes glued to the field.

  Which was no kind of answer. Ryan dropped it. Trav would spill sooner or later. He always did. Whatever the reason was, Ryan just hoped it was on the right side of the law.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Friday night Ryan had a job checking out a cheating spouse only two towns away. Maybe if he got home early enough, he could stop by Liz’s place, surprise her. Otherwise, it didn’t look like he’d see her this weekend. She’d alread
y told him she had plans with Rachel tomorrow night.

  He locked up his house and headed for his car. He slid into the driver’s seat, then paused to pull out his cell. He’d text Liz, let her know he could be back a little early. The passenger side door of his car suddenly opened and then slammed shut. What the—he did a double take. Liz was in his car.

  “Liz? What are you doing?”

  “I wanted to see for myself what you do.” She clutched a giant purse tight to her chest like she was afraid he’d kick her out.

  “I told you what I do.”

  “I want to see if it’s as awful as it sounds.” She pulled an insulated cooler from her purse and set it on the floor.

  He stared at her. “Where’s your car?”

  “I parked at Maggie’s place so no one would get suspicious.” Her eyes darted around, looking for anyone that might be nearby.

  Suspicious that we’re seeing each other? It’s like she’s embarrassed to be seen with me. That’s a first.

  “You won’t like my job,” he said. “I’ll stop by your place when I get back.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She stuck her chin out.

  “I work better solo,” he said patiently. “I have to be silent, unseen.”

  Liz sank even further into the seat. “I promise I won’t blow your cover.”

  He rolled his eyes. She watched too many cop shows. “Suit yourself.” He started the car and pulled out of the driveway.

  She peeked over the dashboard and, noting the lack of possible suspects in town, sat up in her seat.

  He smiled despite the added difficulty for tonight’s assignment. “Since I’m stuck with you…” He didn’t miss her quick smile before she immediately covered with a serious expression. “Ground rules: one, you stay quiet. Two, you stay in the car and do not get involved. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  She wore a yellow short-sleeve shirt buttoned up to her neck—he fought the urge to unbutton it, just a little, just enough. Or better yet, have her unbutton it since he was driving. Her black pants ended mid-calf, an ironed crease on each leg. Probably black silk underneath. He’d noticed her panties usually matched the pants. He liked knowing what lay underneath her buttoned-up clothes.

  He turned the radio to a classic rock station. They drove for a while, silent except for the music. He wouldn’t exactly call this going out in public, since they were stuck in a car, working, but at least they’d left the bedroom. It was a step closer to going public. No one had ever avoided being seen with him before.

  “Would you like a drink?” Liz asked, holding up her cooler. “I’ve got water, iced tea, lemonade, and Dr. Pepper.”

  He glanced over at her. “I can’t believe you brought all that stuff.”

  “I came prepared. Why, what do you bring to a stakeout?”

  He pointed to the to-go coffee cup in his cup holder. “That.”

  “Just coffee? What if you get hungry?”

  “It’s not a picnic. I’m working here.”

  She was silent, and he glanced over. Her eyes were lit with anger, and she took a slow, deep breath. He was surprisingly good at ruffling her feathers, though he didn’t always mean to.

  “Last chance before I put the cooler away,” she finally said when she’d gotten back to her usual controlled state. It made him want to get her ruffled up again. But he couldn’t afford to get distracted on the job.

  “I’ll take water, thanks.” He turned onto a long road through a canopy of trees, where only a few mansions stood elegantly on either side of the road.

  “Wow,” she breathed. She set his water next to his to-go cup and opened a lemonade for herself. “Are all of your clients rich?”

  He shrugged. “Usually. Those are the people who can afford a private investigator before they split the assets in a divorce.” He pulled to the very end of the street and backed into a little-used fire-access road. “I’m waiting for a Mercedes SL to pull out of number three.”

  She rummaged through that giant purse of hers and emerged with what looked like a Ziploc bag of homemade granola. “Organic trail mix?”

  “No, thanks.”

  She shrugged and popped some in her mouth. “Mmph!” She held up a finger and resealed the bag. “I also have, let’s see”—she rummaged further in the bottomless pit of her purse—“protein bars to keep up our strength, two apples, mints, and gum.”

  He raised his brows. “That’s all?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I’m afraid so. I didn’t know what you’d like—”

  He silenced her with a kiss. Damn, she tasted good. He broke the kiss and eyed the back seat. Considered how long until Idiot Husband went for his regular Friday night lay.

  “You are a distraction.” He tapped her nose lightly.

  She shut her purse with a snap and smacked him in the chest with it.

  Oof. “Hey!”

  “You kissed me. I’m perfectly happy to wait here like a top-secret private investigator.”

  His lips twitched on top-secret. It wasn’t exactly a classified federal investigation.

  “That purse is heavy,” he said. “What else you got in there?”

  She opened her purse and held it out toward him.

  “Whoa,” he muttered. It was like an Emergency Survival Kit had thrown up in her purse: Ziploc bags of granola, apples, Band-Aids, Neosporin, Tylenol, tissues, a huge wallet, pepper spray, cell phone, brush, compact mirror, first aid kit, flashlight, batteries (for the flashlight?), a Swiss army knife, a lighter. Some shiny foil caught his eye. Did Liz pack condoms? He got hard thinking about it and considered the back seat again. He shifted the apples out of the way to get a closer look at the foil—two compact emergency blankets. Damn.

  “That’s a lot of stuff,” he said.

  She snapped her purse shut. “I like to be prepared.”

  Ryan noticed movement at number three. “Here’s our guy.” He waited for his mark, Harvey Boomer, to pull down the street before following from a safe distance. Liz was quiet as he maneuvered through local roads. It didn’t take long. Harvey didn’t go far for his mistress. He pulled up to a fancy restaurant one town over.

  “I’m going to get some pictures,” he said. “Stay in the car.”

  He went in, pressed a fifty into the maître d’s hand, and parked himself by the restroom. He pulled a microcamera from his pocket and snapped a few pictures of Harvey and the petite blond half his age. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, even in this high-end clientele restaurant. Now he just needed some pictures of them going into a hotel or her place, anywhere that said they were alone together would be the proof he needed.

  He left through the kitchen and out the back door. When he returned to the car, he told her, “Just one more stop. I need some evidence that they’re sleeping together.”

  Her lips pressed tightly together. “Ryan, you are meant for better things.” She put a hand on his arm. “Truly helping people. Like you did as a police officer.”

  He turned away, looking straight out the window. “I can’t go back to that. I froze, Liz. That little girl could’ve been killed.”

  “What little girl?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He never talked about it.

  Liz waited quietly. Several minutes passed.

  “Nice try,” he said, “but I’m fine with silence.”

  “Just tell me, and then you can ask me whatever you want.”

  He turned to her. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” She tilted her head to the side and gave him a small smile.

  Where to begin with that one? Why do you leave while I sleep? Why won’t you go out in public with me?

  He exhaled sharply. “This is just between you and me.”

  She nodded.

  “I got a call of a domestic disturbance; someone heard a shot. So, we get there, door’s wide open, and me and my partner Joe walk into this apartment. The place is a total shithole, like the kids have
been on their own for a while, and this kid, this twelve-year-old boy, is holding a gun on some teenage punk. The punk has already been shot in the leg, but takes one look at us and throws himself out the window.”

  Liz gasped.

  “It was the first floor. He was fine. Least we didn’t see him when we came out. Anyway, our main concern is disarming this kid, who’s still waving the pistol around, his eyes big and scared, but now he’s pointing it at us.”

  He paused, the painful memory coming back to him, clear as yesterday. Liz stroked his arm.

  “And his sister…” His voice roughened, and he cleared his throat. “This two-year-old still in her Pooh bear pajamas comes out of her bedroom right toward us. She says, ‘I’m hungry.’ I froze, Liz. I should’ve moved in on that boy, but when I saw her, all I could think about is this innocent getting caught in the fray. Joe moved, tackled the boy, and the gun went off, catching me in the shoulder.”

  “What happened to the kids?” she asked.

  “The girl was shipped off to her grandmother down south. The boy went to juvie for shooting a kid and a police officer. So I quit the force. I just couldn’t report to a job that had me facing down a kid. Stakeouts on cheating spouses are a cakewalk compared to that.”

  “I suppose they are.” She looked thoughtful. “You could still work as a cop in a low-crime area, or, I don’t know, something besides spying on people having sex with the wrong people.”

  When she said it like that, his job sounded perverted. “It’s more than that,” he said. “I’m helping people. I give them answers, no questions asked. It’s peace of mind. Plus it helps them in the divorce proceedings.”

  She said nothing, but he registered the disappointment in her eyes.

  “Besides, cops can’t freeze up,” he said. “Your turn.”

  “Okay, ask me anything.” She fidgeted with her purse, rubbing the strap nervously between two fingers.

  Are you embarrassed to be seen with me? Actually, I’m not sure I want to know.

  He went with something else that had been bugging him ever since that stupid dance class. “Do you ever think you should be with Shane instead of me?”

  “What? No! Shane’s a friend. Kissing him would be like kissing my brother.”