by Petrova, Em
Her blood curdled in her veins, slowing everything.
She let out a banshee scream.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Linc was halfway back to his truck, a certain spring in his step with thoughts about possibilities, when he heard the scream. Images of crazed escaped convicts filled his head as he turned and raced back to her house. Her house was right next to the new prison, after all, and if anybody knew what got into convicts’ heads, it was Linc. Flinging the door open, he crashed inside only to find Vanessa huddled by the wall staring—horrified—at something across the room.
An old rag doll sat on her bed, a creepy looking thing with one button eye and a crooked mouth.
“Vanessa?” He kept his voice tentative, not willing to terrify her.
“That’s not my doll. I didn’t put it there.” She still stared, stricken, and Linc pulled her into his arms, shielding her face. It was a creepy doll, but it was just a doll. Still, his inner alarms clanged.
“Do you know where it came from?”
“No idea,” she breathed into his shirt, warm air puffing across his chest.
He squeezed her gently, then strode across the room to pick it up. He put it in a trash bag and left it on the porch. She was obviously upset about it, and he was horrorstruck on her behalf. It was only a doll, but the fact someone had left it on her bed sent a message he didn’t particularly want to decipher.
Linc walked through the house, checking doors and windows to make sure they were all locked, Vanessa on his heels. He didn’t want to leave her alone. Whoever left it might be back.
He felt useless. The doors and windows were all locked, and he couldn’t figure out how anyone had gotten in. So he couldn’t figure out a way to keep them out.
If it was an escaped convict from the prison, they would have heard something about an escapee, wouldn’t they? Could it be a trustee, or someone the prison systems didn’t know was missing yet?
“You want me to call Sheriff Hughes?” He swallowed back his pride. Her safety was worth more than an old grudge.
She chewed on her lip. “And tell him what? Someone gave me a doll?”
“Someone broke into your house.” He tried to keep his voice calm because he didn’t want to scare her, but it was fucking with his head.
Vanessa shook her head. “No, I’ll check with Sam and the other girls. Maybe they left it here for me, because of the diary or something.”
“Should have called,” he muttered.
She swallowed and looked at Linc, her brown eyes wide. “My ghost wouldn’t have done that, would she?”
“Not typically. I don’t know of any ghosts in Mystic who conjure stuff. I know it happens, but… I don’t think so.” His gut told him that wasn’t it, but he couldn’t explain that. He looked at her, really looked, and saw her face was pale and she still trembled. “Do you want me to stay with you?”
Her eyes snapped to his, and she nodded slowly. “You don’t have to do anything. But that would be nice, if you would just be here.”
He jumped at the chance. This was something he could do. He eyeballed her loveseat. Vanessa didn’t have a full-sized couch, but he supposed he could make that work. Linc’s frame was too big for it to be comfortable, but he figured he could do this for her.
“You don’t have to sleep there,” she whispered, as if she knew his thoughts.
“I don’t want to presume.”
“You can sleep in my bed. I’ll wear something appropriate.” She was blushing, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her it didn’t matter what she wore, his thoughts would be far from appropriate.
“Alright.”
As she went into the bathroom to brush her teeth, Linc looked out the window, still curious about who had been in her house. He thought he saw a movement in the shadows but wasn’t sure. He wasn’t willing to leave Vanessa alone to investigate, so he just crossed his arms and stared, making it clear to whatever it was that he was here, he was with her, and she was protected. Besides, it was probably nothing. But a tickle of unease slithered up his spine as he stared into the darkness.
When Vanessa came out of the bathroom, Linc went in and washed his face, scrubbing his teeth with his finger. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. Would he ever feel like he was good enough for a woman like Vanessa? If someone were messing with her, and he figured out who, would that make him good enough? Not likely.
She seemed to think he was okay, but she didn’t know yet. He would have to tell her.
But not tonight.
It was too much for one night. She was already scared; he wasn’t going to add to it. Letting a killer spend the night wasn’t likely to ease her nerves any.
He let himself out of the bathroom and walked over to her bed. She was lying down under the covers, expectantly. Linc took off his shirt and dropped his pants, slipping between the covers to sidle up next to her warm softness. Unable to resist, he draped his arm over her. Then he tugged her closer.
She felt so good next to him like this. As her warmth seeped into his skin, she let out a sigh of contentment, and Linc’s eyes grew heavy.
In prison, Linc had learned to sleep with one eye open. It wasn’t about the cliché prison gang-bangs, although there was some of that going on in other cells, but his possessions would come up missing if he went to sleep, or bored pranksters would do something to him. So he had always been in a state of constant awareness, and it was a habit he still practiced.
But that night, with Vanessa in his arms, he slept better than he’d slept in almost a decade.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Vanessa woke the next morning hugging a warmth that made her insides boil. She’d dreamt of Linc all night long, and the ache between her legs told her she wanted to do more than just dream about him. So when she realized she was hugging his torso and had her legs wrapped around one of his calves, she at first was embarrassed. Then she realized his fingers were drawing lazy circles on her back, giving her goose bumps and probably the cause of all the heat.
She raised her head and found him reading the diary, totally absorbed in it, while absently stroking her back as she slept.
It was pretty awesome.
She’d left the diary on her nightstand and told Linc last night he could read it if he wanted. The intimacy of waking up with him like this, as if they woke up together all the time, was just mouth-watering.
Vanessa realized she had to pee, and since she was sleeping against the wall, that meant she had to climb over Linc to get out of bed. She would have to rub all over his hard body, and possible morning wood, in order to get there.
She was willing to make that sacrifice.
Vanessa started wiggling, and Linc put the book down to help. He smiled at her—a warm, sleepy smile. “Good morning,” he said, his voice a little husky. Vanessa tossed her leg over him and shifted, and his smile faded into something else.
“Good morning.” She wanted to throw a ‘sexy’ at the end but was tired of being shameless around him, no matter how she felt about it. But once she was straddling him, Linc’s hands came up to her hips and held her in place.
Hallelujah. Morning wood.
Linc’s blue eyes darkened as they focused on her lips, and she licked them. Fuck it. She could be shameless. She was horny as hell. “Sleep well?” Her own voice had a purposeful husky tone to it, an attempt at seduction.
“Yeah.” His fingers tightened their grip before loosening and reaching around to grab handfuls of her ass. Vanessa lowered herself to her elbows on either side of his head, feeling the crush of her breasts against his chest, her nipples puckering shamelessly in response. “I haven’t slept that good in a while,” he groaned at her, his eyes falling to her breasts smashed against him.
She ignored the morning breath she probably had and went for the kiss. His lips melded against hers in a powerful union while his hands continued squeezing and kneading her ass. Needy, Vanessa gyrated her pelvis against his erection, listening to the moans and grunt
s coming from him, swallowing them with relish. She had never affected Ian the way she was affecting Linc. As traitorous as it was to think of her ex at this moment, she couldn’t not compare the two. Again.
For instance, when Linc let out a wild growl and twisted them so he was on top and in total control—that was something Ian would never do.
And she loved it.
She giggled as Linc hovered over her, a wild gleam in his eyes as he captured her hands above her head, breathing heavily. His hips between her thighs, Vanessa wrapped her legs around him and hooked her legs together.
And then Linc attacked.
His mouth pressed down on hers as his body pushed hers into the mattress, and Vanessa had never felt so wanted in her life. Linc was working her mouth over like the air he needed to live, and Vanessa gave in to him willingly. When one of his hands roamed to her breast, tweaking a nipple before squeezing it, she felt the jolt to her core and let out a moan to rival his.
“Fuck, Van,” he muttered into her mouth before raining kisses down her chest. He stopped at her breasts, cradling them in his massive paws, kissing and licking them. Every swipe of his rough tongue sent a wave of lust crashing through her until Vanessa was a puddle of sensations. Her hands gripped his hair, but it only seemed to spur him on. “Feel good?” he murmured before going lower.
She could only utter, “Shit, yes,” as he tongued her belly, slipping it around her navel while he kissed it.
And went lower.
Christ. This was something Ian never did. Well, he did it once, but that was it. He said he didn’t like it. Whatever. Once he made that declaration, she quit going down on him, and that was that. But holy fuck. Linc was doing it!
He just looked at first, breathing hard, his shoulders parting her thighs while his fingers toyed with her folds, exploring. When the callouses on his fingertips rasped across her clit, she came unglued, arching her back off the bed.
“There it is…” he mumbled to himself before attacking it with his tongue in rapid flicking motions.
Her orgasm was almost instantaneous and had her writhing under him as he tried to hold her still while he wreaked the havoc of his tongue on her. When she was finished, he stayed down there, watching her with a funny look on his face.
When she could speak, she offered a weak, “Thanks.”
He smirked at her and kissed the inside of her thigh. “I’m glad you liked that.” The smirk turned devilish as he continued, “Because I’m doing it again.” Then, with one long swipe of his tongue, he was giving it another go, and she was climbing again. A slower, more torturous climb, one that had her gasping and panting needily as he feasted and teased with his tongue, utilizing his teeth by nipping gently, and finally his fingers.
She was lost to the machinations, only able to feel the sensations as he toyed with her, and together they discovered exactly how he could make her come undone.
When he was finished, Linc climbed back up her body while Vanessa heaved great panting breaths of air into her lungs. He kissed her again, swooping his tongue inside her mouth to plant the taste of her on her tongue, and she loved it. It was something she would cherish—his taste and her taste together.
“I’m going to make breakfast,” he said before launching himself out of bed, and she suddenly felt cold. She watched him go into the kitchen, his long, powerful body at home in her house.
He didn’t want anything in return? That was weird. He’d said last night that he wanted to take his time with her—not go too fast—but surely, a blowjob was in order after that, right?
She padded after him into the kitchen and watched while he got her skillet out and then turned to the fridge to get stuff for breakfast. He whistled happily, his erection tenting his boxers as he worked.
“You don’t want me to do anything about that?” she asked, eyeballing the massive shaft pointing at her from between his legs.
He adjusted himself, and she only felt greedy as his tip peeked out over the waistband of his shorts.
“Oh, believe me, I do, but at the same time, I still want to take things slow.” To his credit, he did look regretful. “Just give it some time. It will go away.” The coarseness of his voice wasn’t lost on Vanessa, and she heard the desire there.
She didn’t understand. They were both willing adults, weren’t they? “Why?” It was obvious he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.
He stilled his movements, putting eggs and cheese on the countertop. He took a step toward her and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, stroking her cheek with his knuckle. She could still smell herself.
“Because I don’t want there to be any regrets with you.” The earnestness in his eyes was something she could feel, almost, and she believed him. Deciding not to push things anymore, she finally sighed.
“Okay. Fine. I won’t molest you. But Jesus, God. Put your pants back on and quit tempting a girl.” She eyeballed his tip, smooth and purple, still sticking up out of his shorts, and licked her lips. Watching the flame of desire in his eyes with relish, she spun on her heel to go to the bathroom as he chuckled and walked back into the living room to put on his jeans.
***
Vanessa had the best day ever. And it couldn’t all be blamed on the fabulous orgasms Linc had given her. It was the intimacy they shared as Linc read the diary, curled up in her bed, while Vanessa worked on her laptop on the loveseat.
Her beta readers hated the ending of Stirred, but she didn’t blame them. Part of her wanted to change it, but part of her was enjoying where the third and final part of the trilogy was going. The heroine was finding herself and managing to strike up a romance with her handyman. Where the romance with Cole was more erotic in nature, the sex coming before the feelings, the relationship with the handyman was a slow burn, way more meaningful. Because, yeah, truth is stranger than fiction. Besides, she thought it was a compliment to her writing that the readers were invested in her characters enough to cry when they died. Nobody could give her a compelling enough reason to resurrect him, so she let Cole stay dead.
Linc’s distracting erection managed to stay hidden, but his tousled hair, charming dimple, and rock-hard muscles were on display all day. In spite of that, Vanessa managed to get almost six thousand words written on the sequel to Stirred and had an enormous sense of accomplishment. She was calling it Mixed.
At various points throughout the day, she would look up at him for inspiration. He’d be lounging in her bed, legs out in front of him, holding the diary on his tight stomach, enthralled in the reading. She could relate. In her mind, she tried to switch the diary with her romance novel she’d loaned him, and that picture was fun, too.
When Vanessa got up to make sandwiches, Linc followed her into the kitchen, tapping the diary against his chin in thought.
“Have you told many people about this?”
“Sure. It’s not a secret. I think it’s cool. The Bitches know about it, and I told my dad. I think I told Chaz that night at the bar because I thought he might know the Evans. At some point, I should probably get it back to the right family. They might want it, you know?”
“I’m just wondering about that doll last night,” he mused. “Do you think someone who knew about the diary might be trying to scare you by using a doll that could have belonged to the little sister?”
Vanessa had managed to shove thoughts of the creepy doll last night out of her mind, preferring instead to think Linc was staying with her today because he liked her company. But reality rushed in on her, raising goose bumps on her arms.
“Why would someone try to scare me?” Granted, her dad didn’t want her to move here in the first place, but he’d seemed resigned to it when he left the other day, and her friends all seemed glad she’d moved here.
Linc only shrugged, watching her pile slices of lunch meat on bread. “Somebody’s fucking with you. We just need to figure out who, especially if you’re not going to call the sheriff.”
Meeting the sheriff had been stra
nge to Vanessa, and she didn’t fully trust the man. He’d seemed to be taunting Linc with something, and it was unprofessional as hell. He seemed to have a hidden agenda somehow, and the thought crossed her mind he might be behind this. She dismissed it quickly, though. That was stupid. But her distrust lingered.
Vanessa remembered the phone calls she’d been getting but didn’t want Linc to completely freak out. If he knew someone had seen them the other night, he would go nuts. She didn’t like the idea that someone might not like her enough to break into her home and scare the shit out of her, though. She much preferred the ghost angle. Even if Linc didn’t think her ghost would do something like this, she preferred to believe her ‘motherly’ ghost was giving her a doll to play with.
As she finished the sandwiches, Vanessa thought about the Book Bitches. She’d gotten closer to Samantha and Tiffany than the rest, but Kristie, Melanie, and Wren didn’t seem like the types to resort to scaring her to get her to leave. She didn’t think Melanie had a mean bone in her body, and Wren and Kristie seemed up front enough to just tell her they didn’t like her.
And her dad would resort to guilt tactics to get her to go home—faking a heart attack or something.
There was that note they’d found at the museum. Coupled with the phone calls, ghosts, and the doll, it all added up to some incessant weirdness.
“What about the prison warden? Has he said anything to you? He might want your land or something for the compound,” Linc mused.
“No, I’ve never spoken to the man. Besides, it was for sale when he bought that property, and it was dirt cheap, too. He totally could have gotten it when he wanted it, if that’s what this was about. Besides, wardens don’t do the purchasing, do they?”
Linc nodded his head in agreement. “Have you noticed anything else?”
She thought about it. “Just the squeaky door. And you put that back up, so it’s squeaking again. But other than that, I think that’s about it.”
His face grew stern, almost comically so. “I didn’t put it back up.”
Chills raced up her spine. Linc had taken the door off way back when he’d started working on her house. He said he would replace it with a door more in keeping with the style of the house, but it had gone back up the day her dad was there, unloading stuff. Vanessa had stacked a bunch of tools and things in front of it to keep it from opening and banging shut in the night.