In This Town

by Beth Andrews

  She wasn’t. Not on the inside where it counted, where it mattered. She was too hard, too cynical. She reached for him, feeling exposed and vulnerable in just her bra and panties, her knees bent. He came to her, lay next to her and touched her. Her face—her eyebrows and nose and eyelids and cheeks and mouth and chin. Traced his finger down the line of her throat, up under her jaw to her ear.

  Tori squirmed, tried to kiss him but he leaned back. “I want to touch you,” he told her in that serious tone of his. “You deserve to be touched, to be worshipped.”

  Her throat clogged. She didn’t want to be worshipped. There was too much pressure in being up on that pedestal even as she craved the anonymity that came with being thought of as some sort of goddess. She’d spent so much of her life needing to be desired as if that alone would be enough to make up for what was lacking inside her.

  But she couldn’t stop Walker, not when what he was doing felt so good, so right. His hands were warm, his fingertips rough as they smoothed across her collarbone. He dipped his head, flicked the tip of his tongue across her skin, placed warm, openmouthed kisses along the upper edge of her breasts. Tugged her bra down. Her hands fisted into the bedspread as he gently pinched her nipples then took one into his mouth and sucked hard.

  Her hips lifted off the bed as she moaned. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sensations rolling through her, dangerous sensations that continued to build as he hooked his fingers under the edge of her panties and slid them down her legs. He caressed her lower belly, traced his finger around her belly button then moved down to touch her legs, inner thighs.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured. She’d been called beautiful before, had been told it many times during her life. But this was the first time it meant anything. Made her heart warm.

  Walker slid his hand up her inner thigh, settled between her legs, his fingers sure as he stroked her. He kissed her cheeks, then her mouth. Trailed his lips down her neck to her breast again as his fingers moved faster. Harder. Pressure built. Tori arched her back, seeking that release. He shifted so that he was kneeling over her. Her eyes opened and the look on his face alone was almost enough to send her over that edge. He continued stroking her as he slid one finger inside her. Her inner muscles contracted.

  “You going to come for me?” he asked, his voice a low murmur. An enticement. “Oh, yeah,” he breathed as he added another finger, stretching her. “You’re going to come for me.”

  She couldn’t resist his hands, his words. When he bent and gently bit her nipple, she flew apart and cried out his name.

  * * *

  WALKER CONTINUED TO work Tori’s body until she was spent; only then did he quickly take off his clothes and grab a condom from the case in his duffel bag. He was pleased and humbled when she reached for him, her body, that glorious body as wonderful as he’d imagined—even more so. Her skin flush, her eyes glazed with passion because of him. For him. And knowing she’d only ever been with one man before, it excited him, possibly more than it should have but he’d been telling the truth when he’d said he wanted to worship her. He wanted to take it slow and make it last for as long as he could.

  Wanted to make it special for her.

  But when he went into her arms she kissed him. A hot, hungry kiss, her hands smoothing across his shoulders, down his chest. Her touch drove him mad, her taste inflamed him. He returned it with a fervor he’d never experienced before. He quickly sheathed himself, seized her hips with both hands and shifted her to him, rubbed his tip against her entrance. Waited until she looked at him, until their eyes locked. And then he entered her.

  It was good, so damn good. She was hot and tight and everything he’d dreamed of. She arched her back with a sound that drove him insane, drove him to plunge into her again and again, harder and faster. She gripped his arms, her nails digging into his skin. Sweat coated their bodies, the scent of sex filled his nostrils.

  He watched her, hoping he could hold out long enough for her to come again, not sure that was possible when she was gasping underneath him, her body meeting each of his thrusts, her mouth open, her head tipped back slightly. He lifted her hips even more so he could go deeper and she convulsed and tightened around him, her body milking him even as she came.

  He quickly followed her over that edge, tumbling after her with a guttural cry.

  Walker wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He’d collapsed on top of Tori, felt the hard beating of her heart against his chest, felt her heavy breathing. Knowing he was probably squishing her, he tried to roll to the side but she held on to him.

  “I don’t want to crush you,” he said next to her ear.

  She squeezed him. “Not,” she said, sounding sleepy and satisfied. “I like it. I like feeling your weight pressing down on me, your skin against mine.”

  He smiled. Kissed her forehead. The tip of her nose. His heart tumbling when her lips curved in a satisfied, sweet smile.

  “I hope I wasn’t too rough,” he said, unable to keep the emotion out of his voice. He just hoped she didn’t hear it. “I meant to take my time.”

  Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him, a full, real smile that caused his stomach to tighten, his self-resolve not to fall for her to weaken. “I thought things were a bit rushed,” she said lightly.

  He grinned and flipped them over so that she straddled him. “Oh, yeah? Seems to me I wasn’t the only one in a rush.”

  “No, you weren’t the only one,” she admitted, the silky skin of her thighs rubbing against his hips. “But I hadn’t realized that wasn’t your A game.”

  “Hey, now, I didn’t say anything about it being a substandard effort.”

  “No, no,” she said, a thoughtful frown marring her forehead, “it was definitely a good effort.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Good?” He lifted his hips so she could feel his growing erection. “Is that a challenge?”

  “Depends,” she purred. “Are you up for it?”

  He slowly tugged her toward him. “I think I can manage.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  SITTING ON TOP of a picnic table in the café’s empty parking lot, Anthony stared at the back door, hoping she’d come out. Hoping just as hard she wouldn’t.

  But then the door opened and there she was. Jessica. Her hair a pale beacon in the night. She lifted her cell phone as if to call or text someone and he stood, raised his hand. Even from this distance he could see the frown marring her face but she lowered her phone and walked toward him.

  “Anthony,” she said, her eyes wary as she took him in, noticed the six-pack on the table, three left, “what are you doing here?”

  “I was just driving around,” he lied, wiping his damp palms down the front of his jeans, “and thought I’d see if you need a ride home.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You’re drinking and driving?”

  Shit. He should’ve left the beer in the Jeep. “I just had a couple.” Just enough to take the edge off, to make it that much easier to forget how he’d spoken to his parents, how he’d hurt his mother’s feelings. Just enough to make him brave enough to come here, to face Jessica.

  She studied him as if she could see through all his bullshit. Which she probably could. She was savvy and smart and more mature than most girls his own age. Of course, now he realized that she’d had to grow up quickly because of her drug-addicted mother, that she hadn’t had an easy life, that it had made her hard and cynical. Made it difficult for her to trust others, even with the truth of who she was.

  The door opened again and one of the older waitresses came out. Jess shifted and dragged him into the shadows as the lights at the café went off. He froze. She was close enough he could smell her perfume. Feel her warm, soft hand on his arm. The waitress crossed the parking lot, got into her car and drove off, leaving them alone.

  The night was warm and still, the sky dotted with stars and Jess was next to him. It was a mistake, a big one, being here with her, but he didn’t care anymore. His father had
made a worse mistake, had done something so wrong Anthony would never forgive him so why couldn’t he be with Jess? Why did he have to play by the rules when his father didn’t?

  Jess eased away from him, stepping out of the shadows so that the lights from the parking lot illuminated her profile. “I don’t think you should be driving,” she said, biting her lower lip.

  “No, you’re right,” he said quickly, knowing he had to do something, say something quick to convince her to stay. To not walk away from him. “I won’t. Is your uncle coming to get you?”

  “I was about to call him but then I saw you…” She shrugged, seemed unsure and nervous. He didn’t want to scare her.

  “Do you want to sit down?” he asked, retaking his place on the table. “Talk for a little bit?”

  He held his breath but she gave one of those shrugs again. Her phone buzzed and she checked it. Probably a message from that kid she was dating. But she didn’t take it. Instead she shut it off and sat next to Anthony.

  “You want a beer?” he asked.

  “You can get in trouble giving a minor alcohol,” she said, staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. Who knew? Maybe he had.

  He nudged her gently. “Come on, we both know you drink.”

  She’d admitted that much truth to him. Their last night together things had gotten pretty heated between them and she’d put the brakes on. Had admitted she’d been with a lot of guys, had partied.

  “I don’t drink anymore,” she said firmly.

  He twisted the top off another beer, took a long drink. “Playing it straight and narrow, huh?”

  “Just trying to change my ways. Be a better person.” He could feel her studying him, felt her bare thigh brush against his outer leg when she shifted. “Why are you here, Anthony?” she asked quietly.

  He faced her, his heart pounding, his throat dry. “I miss you,” he blurted, the truth he’d denied to even himself since he’d found out her real age. It was humiliating. She was a kid…just a kid and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. To stop wishing things were different.

  “We weren’t together that long,” she pointed out, though her voice shook. “You should’ve moved on by now.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” he asked. “Don’t you think I want to move on? God, Jess, I think about you all the time. I feel like some sort of pervert. I mean, you’re only sixteen.” He shook his head in disgust. “If you were twenty-six and I was thirty-one it wouldn’t even matter.”

  But it did matter. And he hated that he felt like some sleazeball predator who lusted after young girls because that wasn’t it at all. It was Jess. Only Jess. Christ, the next thing he knew he’d be caught on Dateline or something.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jess said, though he knew she felt the same about him. Had seen how she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t watching, how hurt she’d been when he’d been with Mackenzie. “I’m with Tanner now.”

  “But you’re not,” Anthony pointed out, turning to her. “Right now, you’re here with me. Not him.”

  He kissed her. She stilled for a moment, and then she kissed him back. It was hesitant but it was enough to give him hope and he deepened the kiss, eased her back until she was lying on the table, her legs hanging over the edge. He kissed her again and again, his hands roaming over her hip, the curve of her breast. Kissing her, touching her, he didn’t have to think about what his father had done, didn’t have to worry about if being with Jess was wrong or right.

  It felt right. It felt all too right.

  He slid his hand up her shirt, cupped her breast, and she squirmed beneath him. It took him a moment to realize she wasn’t squirming because she liked it but that she was also pushing against his chest, trying to break the kiss. For a moment, one brief, terrifying moment, he ignored her. Thought about not stopping. About taking what he wanted.

  His breathing ragged, his hands shaking, he jack-knifed to a sitting position. “What’s the problem?” he asked more harshly than he intended but damn it, now he felt guilty.

  “I told you,” she said, her own voice unsteady as she straightened her shirt, “I’m with Tanner now. He’s my boyfriend.”

  Anthony sneered. He felt pissed off and mean and out of control. “Yeah? Well, your boyfriend doesn’t have to know,” he said, reaching for her again.

  She slapped his hands. “Don’t be a dick.”

  “Look, what’s the problem? It’s not like you’re a virgin. You’ve slept with plenty of guys. What’s one more?”

  Even in the darkness he could see her face lose color, see the hurt in her eyes. He felt sick to his stomach, disgusted with himself.

  Jess wrapped her arms around herself. “I used to think you were something special,” she said quietly. “I used to think, to dream that maybe, when I was older, we’d get back together. But you’re nothing but a spoiled brat. You know what you need, Anthony?”

  “Yeah. I need to get laid. Not a lecture.”

  “You think you have it so rough? You think that what your dad did a hundred years ago gives you the right to act like an asshole? To treat me like a whore?”

  Her voice wobbled and the beer he had drank churned in his stomach. Shame filled him. “Jess, I—”

  “Don’t. Just…don’t. I know it’s been a rough couple of weeks for you and I would’ve been happy to have been there for you as a friend,” she said, stressing the last word. “As someone who cared about you, who wanted to help you. You think you’re the only person to go through something crappy? Sometimes life sucks. But you get through it. And I’ve learned it’s how you get through it that shows what kind of person you are.” She shook her head at him. “You’re nothing but a spoiled, egotistical kid. Grow up.”

  And she walked away, calling her uncle to come and get her, leaving Anthony alone with his beer and his regrets.

  * * *

  WALKER ENTERED THE café, the folder he’d put together in his hand. He was still having problems processing what the contents in it meant.

  For the first time, he hoped…prayed…he was wrong.

  He spied Tori immediately, talking with an elderly gentleman. She must’ve sensed Walker’s eyes on her because she tensed and slowly turned, then said one more thing to her customer and crossed toward Walker.

  “Good afternoon, Detective,” she said, as if he was just another man for her to flirt with, to manipulate. “You’re a little late for lunch but I’m sure we can find something delicious for you. Booth or table?”

  But he wasn’t going to let her play that game with him, not when he could see the nerves in her eyes, could tell she wasn’t as in control of her emotions as she wanted him to believe.

  “I woke up alone.”

  He scowled. He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to get personal at all.

  She blinked, glanced around as if to make sure no one had overheard him. “Yes, well, I wake up alone every day. Now, a table or a booth?”

  He’d reached for her. Had wanted to make love to her again but she was gone.

  Walker had been furious. She’d left without a word after they’d spent the night together, after they’d made love three times, each one better than the last. They’d eaten cold pizza, had laughed and talked and touched and kissed.

  So he’d tried to push her out of his mind and gotten back to the job at hand. He’d gone through Dale’s police interview again, had double-checked timelines, studied the photos, including the personal ones Tim Sullivan had given him.

  And he’d found the truth.

  “Look,” Tori said, “some of us have work to get to so if you’re not here to eat, I suggest you find somewhere else to be. We have a no loitering policy.”

  He wanted to drag her out of there, make her tell him what was going on in that head of hers. Force her to stop playing her games. But she was right. He had a job to do.

  “I need to speak with Miss Vitello,” he said, already brushing past Tori. “Is she in the kitchen?”


  “Hey,” Tori said, hurrying after him. She caught him as he went into the tiny alcove that separated the dining room from the kitchen. She held his arm. “You can’t go back there. Employees only. And why do you need to talk with Celeste?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is this about the case?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss the details,” he said, knowing those details were going to tear Tori’s world apart. “But it’s imperative I speak with Miss Vitello so either you go get her or I will.”

  “Fine,” she snapped. “Wait here.”

  He didn’t, he followed her into the kitchen. It smelled good and was a lot messier than it’d been when Tori had made him that sandwich. A large, bald man was chopping something at the counter and Celeste was at the grill.

  Tori whirled on him. “I told you to wait out there.”

  He barely spared her a glance. “Miss Vitello,” he said as Celeste glanced curiously from him to Tori and back to him again. “I need to speak to you. Privately.”

  Frowning, she set her spatula down. “Of course. Joe,” she called to the bald man. “Can you take over for a few minutes?”

  “Sure thing,” Joe said.

  “We can speak in my office,” Celeste said as she led him out. “Can I get you anything to drink? Some coffee?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Tori was hot on their heels. “What’s going on?”

  Walker stopped and faced her while Celeste disappeared into a room at the end of the hall. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  “If it’s about the case against my family, it damn well does concern me.”

  “I just need to get a few things clarified from Miss Vitello.”

  “Well, then you can do that while I’m in the room.” And she stormed ahead of him.

  “…just fine,” Celeste was saying as he stepped into the small office. Both women looked at him and Celeste patted Tori’s hand. “Go on. Take a seat.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Walker said tightly.