Sam caught hold of her hands. “Enough, or I won’t make it to the final act of our love scene, and I have more exploring to do.” He slid his fingers inside the band of her leggings, then knelt to the floor and drew them slowly down her legs. “I’ve spent a good part of this semester wondering what you looked like naked.”
“Really?” Lillian didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or pleased while she gazed down at him, uncomfortably aware that the only item of clothing she currently wore was the skimpy pair of black lace bikini panties that matched the bra nestled among the clothes at her feet. He’d actually thought about her. Nude.
“Are you going to tell me you haven’t speculated on my six pack?”
Two could play this game. She smiled. “You have a six-pack?”
“From lifting weights and playing soccer.” Rising to his feet, he unzipped his pants, nearly tripped getting them off and stood before her in just his jockey shorts. “Come here.” When she hesitated, he took hold of her hand and ran it over his stomach, then slid it beneath the elastic of his shorts where his erection bulged and strained against the fabric. His eyes drifted shut when her hand closed around it. “Oh, God, Lilly.” He rested his forehead on her shoulder while she massaged him, his breathing hot and ragged against her bare skin. “No more.”
He caught hold of her hand, lifted it to his lips, then pressed her down onto the bed. She scooted back, gazed up at him looming over her. Watched silently while he tugged her panties down her legs, removed his shorts, then sat back on his haunches to study her. She nibbled at her lower lip, suddenly afraid the extra twelve years showed unmistakably on her fifty-year-old body. But the look on his face was not one of disappointment. Nor did he appear repulsed. His smile seemed that of a little boy who, upon opening his Christmas present, found exactly what he wanted.
Lillian relaxed. Though still apprehensive, she continued to grow more uncomfortable the longer he gazed at her. Her fingers clutched the pendant at her throat. “Is something wrong?”
Sam shook his head. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.” He slid his hands along the inside of her thighs, applied gentle pressure to pry her legs apart. On hands and knees, he crawled between them, leaving a trail of kisses while his fingertips stroked the sweet spot at their apex.
Lillian’s heart slammed against her chest wall. Her breath escaped in sharp, erratic puffs. When Sam placed his mouth between her legs, she nearly screamed. Never had Rusty done this for her. Pleasure was not something he had considered a part of sex. He had actually been more the slam, bam, thank you ma’am kind of lover. Sam’s tongue grazed back and forth across her sex, driving her to the brink of orgasm, then retreating only long enough to allow her a short reprieve before taking her to the edge again. Crying out or speaking was not something she had ever done during the process, but now she couldn’t help herself.
“Oh, Sam, what are you doing to me?”
He stopped long enough to ask, “Don’t you like it?”
“I… I love it, but what… happens if I…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word.
“Come?” Her quiet whimper brought a smile to his lips. “I want you to, Lilly. I want to taste you. All of you.”
While his mouth sucked and teased, her hips bucked and her fingers wound tight in his hair. The force of her first real oral orgasm punched into her so hard, she cried out his name, her fingers digging into the comforter beneath her. Before she could regain her senses, his mouth had captured hers and his erection was sliding deep into her wet passage. She could taste herself on his tongue, feel the intense pressure of him moving inside her.
“Oh, Sam. I’ve never felt like this. Don’t stop, please.” She wrapped her legs around his waist while he continued to drive himself into her. Harder. Faster.
“Tell me you love me, Lily,” he pleaded.
Her hips rose and fell with each thrust while his body pumped and his breath panted in her ear. “Yes, Sam, oh, yes.”
“Come with me.”
And she did. Her arms around his neck, she held tight while she flew with him through time and space in an explosion that drained every ounce of her strength. Left her weak and exhausted, yet happier than she had ever been in her life.
* * *
Sam woke up to an empty bed and glanced at the clock, his heart racing. 7:38 p.m. Breathed a sigh of relief. Plenty of time yet. This was his weekend with Ben. Ben and Kiesha had gone to a school dance, so Sam wasn’t expected to pick him up until eleven when the dance ended. That gave him some time to reflect on what had just happened. He lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes, could hear activity in the kitchen. Evidently, little Joey hadn’t remained asleep for very long. Just as well. He needed to get the letter to the CHP. However, as he pulled on his trousers, he considered the one thing he wanted to do first.
When he entered the kitchen, Joey was sitting in his carrier on the counter and Lillian was heating a bottle of formula. She wore a white, terrycloth robe, and while he leaned against the doorjamb, he speculated as to whether or not she wore anything under it. He hadn’t planned on getting her into bed when he’d arrived with their dinner pizza, but some things just worked out for the best. At least, he thought so. How Lillian felt about their impromptu bout of amazing sex remained to be seen.
Embarrassed. When she turned around, he saw it written all over her beautiful face. First, in her fearful smile, then the nibbling at her bottom lip. Her nervous tell. She watched him approach, her gaze a little too fearful for his liking.
He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re not sorry, are you? Because I’m not.”
She smiled tentatively at first, then grinned and shook her head. “No, Sam, I’m not sorry, not in the least.” Moisture glistened in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much like a woman of the world in my whole life.”
He pulled her into his arms, lifted her off the floor and whirled her around. When they were both dizzy with laughter, he stopped and kissed her mouth with all the love he had in him. “I love you, Lilly.”
She smiled up at him and brushed her fingers along his cheek. “I was afraid you might’ve had second thoughts about that when you woke up.”
“None whatsoever.” He glanced toward the small chalkboard on the wall beside the fridge, noted the words Birthday Party with tomorrow’s date underlined. He walked toward it, erased her grocery list written beneath the line and received a frown for his action. “Do you remember the equation I gave you to memorize?” She nodded. “What is it?” he asked.
Her eyebrows puckered when he picked up a piece of chalk. “X equals Sam.” She watched warily as he wrote it on the board and waited. “Y equals Lillian.” Too tentative, he thought, as he gazed at her. She licked her lips, chewed on her bottom one. He didn’t say anything, merely waited for her to finish. “X plus Y equals Love,” she whispered.
“Good.” Below the equation, he drew two conjoined hearts containing their initials. He knew it was juvenile, but he wanted to make a point. He turned to face her. “I love you, Lilly.”
“Sam, are you sure?”
He watched as several tears slid silently through her lashes. “As sure as I am that one plus one equal two.”
Lillian threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Sam. I do believe I am falling in love with you. You’ll have to forgive me if I seem a bit unsure. I know I’ve never been in love before… at least, not if it feels like this.”
“Me, neither.”
While Joey watched intently and giggled in his carrier, Sam danced Lillian around the room. Considered dropping to one knee and proposing on the spot, but thought that might be too much for one evening. Besides, he didn’t have a ring, and he wanted to do that part right. When she stopped suddenly to gaze at the chalkboard, then backed out of his embrace, he nearly panicked, afraid she might erase the equation.
“Tomorrow is my 50th birthday,” she said softly.
Had he not been able to convince her that their age differ
ence meant nothing to him? “Lilly, please—”
“Amanda is giving a birthday party for me at the San Sebastian Country Club.” She turned around and took hold of his hands. “I want you to come.”
He knew his mouth hung open, and that he sported a foolish, completely idiotic expression on his face. Damn. “I have Ben—”
“Bring him. And his girlfriend, too.”
Panic shot through him like a bolt of lightning. How would her daughter react to him as her mother’s suitor? “Are you sure?” The astonishment he felt must have been evident in his voice because she squeezed his hands.
“No announcements, I promise, but I would like to have a friend at my side when I arrive at the party with a baby in my arms.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lillian’s invitation was all Sam could think about during his ride to the nearest CHP station with the letter from Joey’s grandmother. No way was their relationship going to stay a secret after she introduced him to her daughter’s guests tomorrow. A cold sensation settled in the pit of his stomach, much like the one he’d felt on his first day before a classroom full of disinterested high school students. Part of him was ecstatic. The other part was scared to death.
Well, Sam, this is what you wanted, isn’t it? After all, secrets don’t remain secrets forever.
Sam dropped off the letter with a Detective Ramos, then after driving around for the better part of an hour, he finally parked his motorcycle in front of the junior high school gym. He was early. Could still hear the band playing through the building’s open doors and windows. He didn’t dare go in. Ben would be mortified, and the last thing Sam wanted to do was embarrass his son. So, he waited, his body exquisitely tired and yet refreshed and alive as it hadn’t been in years. Maybe never. A feeling like none other, and no doubt due entirely to the mixture of extraordinary love and mind-boggling sex.
The sudden quiet that permeated the air surrounded him with an aura of peace. That is, until several hundred seventh and eighth graders emerged from the building, then either scattered in an equal number of directions or milled around waiting for their rides. Sam watched Ben walk hand in hand with Kiesha Spencer toward her father’s car. Wondered how her parents felt about his son’s attentions to their daughter. He doubted serious was a word to describe Ben’s interest in the girl, but she was important enough for him to work at bettering his grades to impress her. Sam wasn’t going to mess with success.
He waved as Ben hurried toward him. “Have fun?”
Ben nodded, then turned to wave one last time at Kiesha when her father drove past them. He grinned at Sam. “We danced every dance together.”
“Speaking of dances, we’ve been invited to a birthday party tomorrow. It’s for a… friend of mine, and if you’d like to, you may bring Kiesha.”
Ben gazed suspiciously at him. “I didn’t know you had any friends.”
“Thanks a lot.” Sam handed Ben a helmet. “She’s a special lady I’ve been seeing lately, and I’d like you to meet her.”
Ben went suddenly quiet. “Do I have to?”
“I helped you get to first base with Kiesha. I think you owe me.” Sam waited while Ben rolled his eyes and sighed as only a twelve-year-old could do. “It would mean a lot to me, Ben.”
“Does Mom know about her?”
“Her name is Lillian, and no, I haven’t told your mother. I haven’t told anyone but you.”
* * *
“What do I do now?”
Jorgé had spent the remainder of the day asking himself that question every hour on the hour. Neither drink nor drugs could smother the terror he felt as the day wore on and all hope of Mariah’s return faded. He beat his fist into the palm of his hand while he wandered around the apartment. Into the kitchen, through the living room and into the bedroom. Then back to the kitchen to start again, all the while hoping some sort of inspiration would hit. Either that, or Mariah would walk through the door with José in the carrier, kneel at his feet and beg his forgiveness.
Like that was going to happen.
Fact was, she had left him. Not only that, she had taken the one thing that would save him from those two crazy Mexicans—José’s carrier containing the mask. Without it, he was a dead man. No way could he talk them out of killing him. He had to run. Problem was, he didn’t have much money. Mariah had obviously taken José’s college fund, and the couple hundred dollars from his last paycheck wouldn’t get him very far. Maybe he could sell the gun back to Rudy. No, that would be stupid. He might need it for protection.
Where do you think you can go, huh? You need to get the carrier back.
Getting the carrier back would mean finding Mariah and apologizing to her. Maybe even groveling. Could he do that?
It beats getting killed.
Jorgé couldn’t argue with that. If Mariah had run away as he suspected, she would have gone to her mother’s home in Fresno. She wasn’t brave enough to go anywhere else by herself. That his mother-in-law didn’t like him was a given, but he wasn’t necessarily interested in a reconciliation with her daughter. All he needed was enough time to get the mask and the money out of the carrier. Then he could be off to Mexico, and Mariah and her mother could be free of him.
With that plan in mind, he stepped into the hallway, shut the door behind him and inserted his key in the deadbolt lock. Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. Jorgé’s heart shot into his throat. He stared at the door, not daring to turn around. Or breathe. He closed his eyes. How could Carlos and his friend have found out so quickly?
“Excuse me, sir. Do you live here?”
No accent. Jorgé turned around slowly to face two men in police uniforms, their bodies blocking the stairway and the only exit from the building. Not Carlos and his boss, but equally dangerous. Had he been found out? Had old man Kessler discovered the fake mask and sent the police after him? Damn but he had the most piss-poor luck lately. Since it was obvious he either lived here or was robbing the place, he chose the truth.
“Yes.”
“What’s your name?”
Jorgé’s hand tightened on the canvas handles of the duffle bag. Stay calm. “Jorgé Molina.”
The officer nodded to his partner. “Are you related to a Mariah Molina?”
Mariah? Why did they want to know about Mariah? Oh, God. Had she gone to the police about their fight? Made a complaint? Jorgé swallowed carefully before answering. “She’s my wife. What’s this about?”
“Are you going somewhere, Mr. Molina?” the officer asked, indicating the duffle bag.
Jorgé’s ability to think on his feet was barely comparable to his ability to keep a job, so in this instance, he decided to stick with the truth. Again. “My wife’s gone to her mother’s house in Fresno. I’m leaving to join her. Is there a problem?”
“There was an accident out on Highway 56 early Thursday morning. A tanker truck hit a Greyhound bus. Mariah Molina was identified as one of the passengers. I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but your wife is dead.”
“What?” Mariah was on a bus? Mariah was dead? Jorgé stared at the pained expression on the policeman’s face. “Are you sure it was Mariah?”
“This letter was among her effects.”
The officer extended an envelope toward him, but Jorgé could only stare at the man’s hand. He didn’t have to fake the shock he felt. He shook his head. It was too unbelievable, yet he knew in his heart it was true. Mariah had left him, taken a bus in the dead of night to escape her abusive husband and run off to her mother. Now she was dead, and he felt like the heel he was for every hostile, wicked thought he’d ever had about leaving her and their son behind and fleeing to freedom in Mexico.
At least these policemen weren’t here to arrest him for beating his wife or stealing the mask… Shit. The mask.
“What about my son? What about José?”
“Your son was the only survivor of the accident.”
Jorgé only half listened while the officer explained the circumstance
s surrounding his son’s miraculous survival. It took all his strength to continue standing and not slide to the floor, weak with relief. Not only had his son lived through the crash, but evidently the carrier had come through it in one piece as well. That meant the mask and the money were safe. He just had to get them.
“Where is he? I want to see my son. I want to bring him home.”
“Your son was released by the hospital into the care of Child Protective Services.” The officer handed him a card. “Their office is closed right now, but you can call this number in the morning and make arrangements to retrieve your son.”
Damn.
* * *
“Kiesha says she can come, but how are we supposed to pick up her up on your motorcycle?”
Sam could already see that Ben was going to be difficult, and while he didn’t want to expose Lillian to his son’s rude behavior, he didn’t want to back out of the invitation either. They had worked out the logistics of attending the event, including transportation details, before he’d left her house last night. If Kiesha could come, then Lillian would drive them all in her car. If not, he would meet her at the country club. Now he almost wished the girl’s father had said no, whereby he could return Ben to his mother’s care early and attend the party alone.
“Lillian is going to pick us up first, then we’ll stop for Kiesha on our way to the country club. Did you get her address?”
Ben held out a yellow sticky note. “Do I have to get dressed up?”
“It’s golf, swimming, and a casual dinner dance. Dress accordingly.”
Ben was obviously unhappy about being dragged to a grown-up party, Sam thought, even with his semi-girlfriend along for company. Though Sam suspected that was not the only issue on his son’s mind.
“You’re never going to get back together with Mom, are you?”
Sam had hoped Ben would eventually accept the fact that his parent’s divorce was final. Evidently, that was not the case. Still, after ten years, it was time for Ben to realize that he and Rachel were not going to get back together again. Whether Lillian was in the picture or not.
An Equation For Murder Page 18