Slow Burn

by Ednah Walters

  He palmed her cheeks to hold her head in place and took possession of her mouth. For three days, he had dreamt about this. Ron had pushed himself mentally at work and physically at the gym to the point of exhaustion, only to have her invade his dreams. If he’d thought that all he needed to get her out of his system was a good lay, he would have found release somewhere else. Right from the beginning, he’d known it was more than sex with Ashley. Known and fought it because he’d taken his mother and uncle’s way of life as the norm, never letting anyone get close. It was liberating to let go.

  He gripped her head and plundered her mouth as he intended to do her body. Their heavy breathing, sighs and groans filled the room as their needs spiraled out of control. The desire to cherish and please clashed with the wild urge to conquer and claim. The former won hands down and he slowed to a languid pace. Nibbling, teasing and savoring. He intended to make up for the last three days.

  Finally, he lifted his head, and whispered, “Are there surveillance cameras in this room?”

  “Are you kidding?” she breathed out. “No audio either. Here or the one upstairs.”

  He leaned back and glanced around. It was big by bathroom standards, but not in the same class as the one upstairs. He didn’t want her freaking out because of her claustrophobia. “I want to make love to you right here, right now.”

  “Me too.”

  “Later we can move to the one upstairs.” A sweet, radiant smile curved her lips as she ran a finger down his nose, then across his lips. He pulled her finger into his mouth and rested a hand on her soft thigh. Her muscles trembled under his palms. He moved up under her dress, caressing her lace-covered hip, her stomach, the small of her back. Her responses, the tiny moans, the arching of her back, were fascinating.

  “Your skin is so soft. Like nothing I’ve ever felt.”

  “You say the nicest things.” She stilled his hand, stood up and straddled him then tugged at his black tee shirt and pulled it off. His breath grew rugged when she ran her palms along his arms, past her shoulders and down his bare back to his belted pants. “You’re beautifully built. Hot. Everything about you is hot.”

  His erection pulsed and throbbed, needing her so much it was a physical pain. The silkiness of her skin begged for his touch. He slid a hand under her dress, again, stroking, creeping higher. Relieving her of dress and bra gave him exactly what he wanted, her naked.

  The perfection of her body held him spellbound but just for a moment. He continued stroking her skin, teasing her nipples while she gasped and trembled. He could never get tired of watching her respond to his touch.

  He leaned forward to nuzzle the gentle swell of her stomach, which was right in front of his face. She smelled good. He took a deep breath, savoring the heady scent of her arousal. His hands lowered and gripped her lacy thong bikini. This time, he slid it down, past her long, supple legs. He lifted her leg and rested it on the rim of the tub while kissing her soft inner thigh. He slid on his knees and rested her raised leg on his shoulder. Then he grabbed her bare ass and found her, drawing her swollen knob of pleasure into his mouth.

  Ashley moaned, or maybe she protested, he wasn’t sure. But the way her fingers forked through his hair, gripped his head and pressed his face against her mound, he highly doubted it. Her nails dug into his scalp, her hips writhing as he licked and lapped, pushed and coaxed until her body convulsed. He absorbed her pleasure, not relenting, loving her hitching breath, the tremors that shook her body. Finally, he lifted his head and looked up, but her eyes were closed in ecstasy. Keeping a steady arm around her waist, he stood and kissed her, long and hard, making her taste her juices on his lips.

  He eased off to fumble with his pants, but his trembling eagerness made the task difficult. “I need to stop this habit of making love to you partially clothed,” he growled.

  “Don’t you dare. I love your style. Slow or fast, you always know what I need.” She nudged his hand aside and undid the belt. Then she shoved everything, jeans and underwear, all the way to his ankle and yanked them off, his shoes, too. Still bent, her hand closed around him, her thumb delicately rubbing the tip of his shaft. “So delicate yet firm and powerful.”

  He closed his large hand over hers as she pumped him, gripped tightly for a brief moment before easing her hand off him and pulled her up. “Not now. I need to be inside you, babe. Right now.”

  He got protection from his pants but she took it from his hand, ripped the package open and rolled it on him. Then she budged him gently and he flopped back on the toilet lid. Once again, she took his throbbing shaft in her hand. Slowly, she lowered herself and guided him inside her hot, wet and yielding folds. A hiss escaped his mouth as her tight sheath hugged him.

  “Are you okay?” she whispered.

  “Oh yes, babe. You feel good. Perfect.”

  “No. You’re the perfect one.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and started riding him, her movements slow and deep. He cupped her breasts, dragged his tongue over her nipples one at a time, suckling them tenderly. Then her movements changed, becoming rapid as she rocked, rose and fell on him. He almost lost it when she arched her back, leaned back to grab his thighs behind her and danced circles on his shaft, her half-closed eyes locked with his.

  For the first time in his life Ron felt exposed, vulnerable. He didn’t know this crazy power she had over his mind and body, but he wasn’t going to fight it. Actually, it was kind of liberating to be at her mercy—seduced by the sexy sounds coming from her mouth and her jerking hips, completely unmanned by the little muscles inside her massaging him. She had him bad, had him bucking and writhing, sweating and groaning her name as they raced to the finish.

  She stiffened and jerked violently, almost unsheathing him. He pulled her to him and cried out in a voice he hardly recognized as his own. Intense pleasure shot through his body in quick succession, rendering him helpless.

  He held her tight, for how long he didn’t know. He didn’t want to let her go. Or stop loving her. Or share her with anyone. He now knew what he wanted, and it was much more than an occasional sex. He had to have exclusive rights to her.

  Even as the thoughts formed, Ron knew it wasn’t fair to Ashley. He still hadn’t come clean about the rumors about his father and the fire. He’d meant to three days ago, but had ditched the idea after talking to his mother and doing some thorough soul-searching. If Ashley knew the truth, she might end their association. He wasn’t taking that chance. The truth must wait until later. He must have time to show her that what they had was special.

  His heart thundered in his chest, except it wasn’t with excitement this time. It was pure, unadulterated dread. Relationships beyond the bedroom were a mystery to him. He’d never had one nor met a woman who inspired him to ask for one. Yet with this woman, he wanted much more. Somehow, she had stormed past his defenses and imbedded herself in his very essence. All he had to do was accept it, deal with it.

  He smoothed damp hair away from her face and took a deep breath, not sure how to broach the subject. “I love make-up sex.”

  Crap, that wasn’t what he’d meant to say. But Ashley rescued him from coming up with a better opening when she laughed and her nether muscles tightened around him. He wasn’t surprised when blood rushed to his groin, again. He hoped it would always be like that with them.

  She kissed his chest and leaned back to look into his face, her eyes luminous. “I wouldn’t know about that, but since you like it so much, we should fight more often. And I should be on top every time we make up.”

  “On top huh? Love to control the pace, don’t you?”

  She giggled. “It gives me more freedom.”

  “And leaves my hands free for these babies.” He cupped her breasts and paid tribute to her taut, responsive nipples with his teeth and tongue and grinned when she caught her breath. “On the other hand, you haven’t seen all of my tricks yet.”

  “Hmm, sounds promising. Want to show me more?” She wiggled her eyebrows when he lo
oked up. “I’ve been told I’m a quick study.”

  He loved the way she wasn’t afraid to show him that she wanted him. Ron laughed and pulled her closer to nuzzle the side of her face.

  ***

  An hour later, they left the bathroom. Ashley’s eyes darted to the areas in the room with surveillance cameras. Thank goodness their system had no audio component. They never curbed their enthusiasm when they made love.

  “If that punk comes anywhere near you again, let me know,” Ron said from behind her. “Where are the sketches?”

  Ron was ticked that she hadn’t told him about the incident with Vaughn outside the hospital. The way he was going on, she wished she hadn’t mentioned it. She hobbled to the table where she’d kept the sketches and slapped them in his hand. “You’re overreacting. Vaughn wouldn’t physically hurt me. That’s not his style.”

  “What would you know about his style? You only met him twice.”

  Okay, she brought that on herself. “Never mind. Anyway, I’m only guessing that the man in my dreams and Vaughn’s driver are the same person. I could be mistaken.”

  His attention shifted to the sketches. Slowly, he studied each page. “But you recalled his scarred face, and in your dream, your mother was responsible for scarring him. I’d like to hear what Dr. Vogel has to say about that. May I borrow this one?” He indicated the sketch with the unscarred profile of Vaughn’s driver.

  “Why? Eddie’s already checking into the man’s background.”

  Ron’s brow rose. “Your cousin?”

  Ashley nodded and told him what Eddie had uncovered.

  “Do you think he’ll agree to share his information with Kenny?”

  “I don’t know. Eddie is a law unto himself, so I can’t promise anything. When we spoke, he was planning on paying Kenny a visit.”

  “That’s even better. Kenny prefers to work with the local law enforcement rather than his former colleagues at the bureau. He might also want to show this sketch to the man who works at the Sunset Marquis Hotel to see if Frankie Higgins was the man he saw talking to Dunn. Then we’ll have something tangible to link the Doyles to this mess.” He explained what his mother told him about Doyle’s attempt to buy the house ten years ago.

  Ashley shook her head. “That would make what Vaughn did so weird.”

  “What? Offering you a ride?”

  “No, hon. Vaughn has decided to support local art. He’s the new benefactor of The César Chavez Children’s Museum.” His eyes progressively darkened as she explained what Josh and Micah had told her.

  “How much is he pledging?” he asked when she finished.

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “Nothing.” He walked to where he’d left his firefighter clothes and slipped the sketch in the pocket of his jacket.

  Not liking his attitude, her gaze stayed on him. “You aren’t thinking of confronting Vaughn, are you? We don’t have any proof yet that he and his father are the bad guys here.”

  He shot her a sharp look. “We’ll see.” Then he turned to survey the broken pieces of glass. “Where’s the broom and dustpan?”

  Ashley got up. “I’ll get it.”

  “No, stay put. In fact, you shouldn’t put your weight on that foot. Where’re your cleaning things?”

  She settled back on the stool. “In the closet next to the bathroom door.” She watched him walk away, admiring the confidence he exuded. Would she ever get tired of looking at him? He was such a beautiful man.

  An idea started to form in her head, brought a grin on her lips. Yeah, why not. She hobbled to the table where her cameras were and picked up one. She lifted it and aimed at Ron as he walked back to the kitchen area, broom and dustpan in hand.

  Ron cocked a brow at her. “What are you doing?”

  “Capturing the moment.” Her finger twitched and the shutter opened and closed. “Don’t you know a man tinkering about in the kitchen is considered very sexy?”

  He stopped, wriggled his eyebrows. “Want me to take my shirt off?”

  She grinned and clicked. “Would you?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Please.” She moved until she had a clear view of him sweeping the debris off the counter and into the pan. Click, click, went her camera. The photos would go into her personal collection. She didn’t know how long their relationship would last, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a few mementos along the way. Something to hold on to once he was gone. “Women will die to own you.”

  “Too bad. I’m a one woman man, and I’m already taken.” He leaned against the broom, his expression becoming serious. “Do you remember what you told me about being filthy the night of the fire?”

  Ashley noted the change in his voice and put the camera down. “Yes. It didn’t make sense.”

  “It should once you hear this. My great-grandfather ran a speakeasy under Carlyle House during prohibition.”

  Her eyes widened. “No way. I researched the house, and that wasn’t in the archived newspaper articles.”

  “It’s a family secret, which explains why my family fought selling the house all these years and where my grandmother got the money to start Neumann Security. I mean, my great-grandfather was a doctor, but in those days, doctors didn’t make that much money.” He swept the broken piece of glass onto the dustpan and dumped them in the garbage as he talked. “After my mother confessed, Kenny and I went snooping. It took us a while to find the door hidden in the basement. It’s impossible to tell it’s there. Just a second.” He went to return the broom and the dustpan in the storage closet.

  Ashley tried to recall anything about the house and came up blank. How had she made it to that room ten years ago? “Are there other doors leading to it?”

  “Probably. I’m amazed you didn’t hurt yourself in that dingy room. It’s huge and full of crates and storage boxes, broken down tables and chairs. Someone in my family built a wall to hide the secret underground entrance that connects it to the storm drainage system, but moisture has seeped into the concrete and it’s crumbling. I wish I knew about the whole speakeasy thing when I was younger.”

  From his excited expression, he would have enjoyed exploring those underground rooms. Maybe visiting the place might jog her memory. Before she could ask Ron, the doorbell rang.

  Ron held up a hand to stop her from answering it and walked to the door. When he removed the stool and opened it, Officer Kilpatrick said, “I’m sorry to intrude, but I need to talk to Ms. Fitzgerald right away.”

  Something in Kilpatrick’s voice had Ashley hurrying to the door. She slipped her hand through Ron’s. Touching him gave her a modicum of comfort as she braced for whatever news the officer brought.

  “What is it?” Ashley asked.

  “We just got a call from Sanchez with some good, or bad, news. Depending on how you look at it.”

  “What news?” Ron said.

  “A body of a man matching Dunn’s description washed up on Corona del Mar State Beach earlier today. They fed the fingerprints into IAFIS database and the name that came up was Evan Ironside, a local private investigator. A couple of our people paid his office a visit and discovered that he uses several aliases, including Dunn.”

  “Was his death…?” Ashley didn’t finish the sentence, but Officer Kilpatrick understood what she was asking.

  “Natural? They don’t have anything conclusive yet, but they’re not ruling out foul play. However, we’ve been ordered to end the stakeout. With Dunn dead, the captain said we have no reason to be here, Ms. Fitzgerald. I’m sorry.”

  Ashley couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Ron had gone tense beside her, too. “What if whoever hired him is still out there?” he snapped.

  “I understand how you feel, but I don’t make the decisions, Mr. Noble. I just follow orders.”

  “Can we talk to Officer Sanchez?” Ashley asked.

  Kilpatrick shook her head. “I don’t know. You could try calling her. But I do know she’s busy at the moment. She’ll be here tomorrow
to talk to both of you.”

  “We’ll be here,” Ashley said.

  “Until four, then we have an appointment downtown.” Ron pulled out a card from his wallet and passed it to the woman. “She can reach us by my cell phone.”

  “Or mine,” Ashley added.

  “A team from our precinct will be here in the morning to dismantle the surveillance system. I’m sorry we didn’t get to Dunn first.” She nodded and left.

  Ron propped the door shut and turned to peer at Ashley’s face. Worried and confused, she wondered if her eyes had given her away.

  “Hey.” He rubbed her upper arms.

  The soothing warmth from his hands steadied her. “This is all so strange.”

  “What is?”

  “Remember I mentioned a detective my aunt hired ten years ago to investigate the fire?”

  “Yes. You said he found nothing.”

  “That’s what he told her. But he must have. His name was Evan Ironside.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Ashley was still thinking about Evan ‘Dunn’ Ironside the next day as she and Ron climbed the stairs to Dr. Reuben’s office. Obviously, Dunn’s claim that he’d found nothing during his investigation of the fire was false. Someone must have convinced him to lie. More than ever, Ashley wanted to know what happened that night.

  “This way, please.” Dr. Reuben’s assistant, a stylish forty-something brunette with a beaming smile, opened a door and indicated to Ashley and Ron to enter. “The doctor will be with you shortly. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. The phone is on the side table.” With another flash of a smile, she was gone.

  Ashley hugged her arms and turned to survey Dr. Reuben’s psychotherapy room. The few times she’d consulted with the doctor, they’d used a different office. This room was surprisingly homey. A sofa, a loveseat and a coffee table sat in the middle of the room with two leather chairs and a chaise lounge near a window. Gilded lamps sat on the side tables, and next to them, a vase of flowers. A few collectibles shared space with psychology books on shelves. With the ceiling fan turning at a low speed, the room was cool without being uncomfortable.