Beth Kery
Page 18
“We’re not going anywhere for a while.”
“Did you come up with your dad?” Tim asked as he put his glove back on his hand.
Shane felt his irritation rise but he tried to contain it. Tim was just being neighborly, not nosy. “Nah, Dad’s still in Chicago. I’m here with a friend.”
Tim nodded. “Don’t suppose you need any more firewood?”
Shane forced his lips into a grin, thoughts of a warm, soft Laura lying in bed making it difficult for him to concentrate on chitchat. “ ’Fraid not. You’ve kept Dad pretty well supplied it looks like. We’re keeping nice and toasty.”
Tim started to reply but stopped abruptly when he glanced to the left of Shane.
“Oh. This must be your friend.”
Shane froze as Tim removed his Brewers hat, revealing a thatch of straw-colored hair. “Hello, ma’am.”
Shane sucked air into his lungs and turned slowly toward Laura.
It was no wonder Tim looked so flustered, Shane thought grudgingly. She looked gorgeous wearing sweatpants and one of his old sweatshirts, a sexy, tousled mane of dark hair spilling around her back and shoulders. Her cheeks still glowed lividly pink from their lovemaking.
She looked exactly like what she was—a woman who had just crawled out of bed after being well loved.
Her green eyes flickered up to meet his glower ever so briefly before she looked at Tim. She opened her lush lips and Shane was sure she was about to scream at the top of her lungs that Shane had kidnapped her . . . to beg Tim Brandt to get her the hell away from him.
“Hello,” she said instead, her voice low and husky. “It’s really coming down, isn’t it?”
Tim’s sallow cheeks turned every bit as pink as Laura’s. He stepped back and shoved his hat back on his head. “Supposed to get a foot and a half to two feet by the time it’s through. Well, I’ll let you folks get back to whatever you were do—” Tim stopped abruptly, reddening even deeper. “Have a good evening, then,” he finished awkwardly before he turned.
Laura said “Good evening,” at the same time that Shane offered his thanks. He shut the door and double-locked it as his fury slowly mounted.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?” he asked once he’d slowly turned to face her.
Her lips fell open in surprise. “I wasn’t doing anything. I just said hello.”
He took one step closer to her, forcing her to tilt her head back to look up at him. “I told you not to move. You agreed.”
“Shane, I could have begged that man to take me with him, but I didn’t. Did you think about that?”
“Yeah. I thought about it. And so did you. I could tell when you looked at me before you talked to him,” he said grimly before he walked away. He took out some of his irritation on the logs in the fire as he stirred them with a poker with unnecessary force, causing sparks to fly everywhere like a swarm of tiny glowing bugs.
“So what if I did think about it? Would it be surprising? You did bring me here against my will, Shane.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he said over his shoulder with a pointed glare. “What if whoever had been at the door hadn’t been Neighbor Tim? I told you to stay where you were for your safety, not because I was trying to bully you.”
“You are bullying me, Shane! How else would you describe what you’ve done by bringing me here? Handcuffing me, tying me to a bed—”
“Making you scream,” he finished through clenched teeth as he turned and faced her. She paled beneath her pink cheeks. “Don’t be pissed off at me for giving you what you want.”
“What I want? You think that’s what I want?” she asked shrilly. “You’re crazy, Shane Dominic!”
Shane closed his eyes briefly, trying to reign in his temper. The poker clattered loudly when he tossed it back in the metal holder. “Are you really going to stand there and try to tell me you didn’t like that?” He gave a meaningful nod toward the bedroom.
“I-I didn’t say that.”
“You think that’s what I want?” Shane repeated her words as he came toward her. He wondered just how pissed off he looked when she took one step back before she steeled herself and held her ground. He grasped her shoulders. “When I ask you to do something for your safety and you agree, I expect you to keep your promise.”
“You don’t really expect that someone would come out to this cabin and try to . . . attack us or something, do you?”
“I don’t know what to expect. That’s the problem. Maybe you never noticed, baby, but Huey wasn’t a nice guy. Neither were his buddies. One of them broke into your house and just yesterday pulled a gun on you. Do you remember that?” She didn’t answer, but Shane hadn’t really expected her to, either, given his sarcastic tone. “And since you refuse to tell me the truth about any of that, it’s not too surprising that I don’t know what to expect, is it? Now. Tell me that if I ask you to do something like, ‘stay in the bedroom and don’t move’ ever again, you’ll do it and not just say you will. I’ll turn you over my knee the next time you pull something like that!”
“Shane—”
“Promise me.”
“Oh, all right,” she replied exasperatedly. “I promise. There. Are you happy?”
“No. Not really.”
“Why not?”
“What did you mean when you implied that being dominated wasn’t what you want? Did Huey force you to have sex that way?”
Her face stiffened. “No, Shane. It wasn’t like that.”
He nodded his head slowly, his eyes taking in every nuance of her features. He felt her shoulder muscles tense beneath his fingertips.
“Then tell me how it was,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. He easily sensed her anxiety but he wasn’t going to let her get away until she answered him. She lowered her gaze to his collar, denying him access to her expressive eyes.
“Laura?”
“Why do you want to hurt me this way? Why do you want to hurt yourself?” she asked in a rush of frustration.
“The answer to how it was between you and Huey will hurt me. Is that what you’re saying?” he prodded.
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
Shane’s heart began to thud in his ears when she pulled out of his hold and turned toward the bedroom. His grip loosened and slid down her arms, but he caught her hand at the last minute, stilling her.
“I care too much about you to just let this go.”
His gentle pull on her arm had caused her dark, lustrous hair to fall forward, obscuring her face. He saw her shoulders rise as she took a slow, deep breath.
“It’s not going to work, Shane.”
Bitter fury rose like bile in his throat when he heard the glacial quality of her tone. The distant, untouchable woman was back, making him doubt his sanity in recalling the Laura he’d just been holding in his arms minutes ago, the warm, generous, sexy creature with the sweet touch and sublime smile.
“What’s not going to work?”
“What you’re trying to do by bringing me here. You’re not going to succeed in seducing me to your cause . . . convince me to tell you something that will assist in the FBI’s investigation of the CPD.”
“Is that what you really think this is all about? The Bureau’s investigation?”
Despite the fact that she wore a baggy sweatshirt and her hair was a wild tangle she looked as regal and impervious as a queen when she turned and met his stare with chin held high.
“That’s what you told me it was about in front of my house yesterday. You brought me to this cabin, tied me to that bed . . . and used our past together to try to break down my defenses and get me to tell you some detail that will bolster your floundering investigation. But like I said—it’s not going to work.”
“Is that right?” Shane growled as he narrowed the distance between them.
“Yes.”
“So nothing I do or say for the next few days is going to penetrate that heart of ice, is that right, Laura?”
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“Call it whatever you want. You’ve got a losing hand, Shane.”
“That’s a pretty cocky statement coming from someone who hasn’t even figured out the game yet.”
He took a small measure of satisfaction in seeing her eyes widen. He smiled grimly as he tightened his hold on her hand and pulled her back to the bedroom with him. “I’ll tell you what I do have—two more nights. The game isn’t over yet.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Laura took refuge in silence as Shane restrained her to the bed once again by her wrists. She didn’t struggle but she didn’t help his cause, either, letting her arms go limp and heavy and giving him her best bored, contemptuous stare. Within the first week of her association with Huey Mays, she’d practiced and honed that look until it was sheer perfection.
Unfortunately, while that glare literally wilted Huey it just bounced right off the surface of Shane’s confident, bold personality.
She fumed at the evidence, even though a small voice in her head told her she was the one who deserved the disdain. Apparently she needed to gird herself for battle against a part of herself—not Shane.
How dare he accuse her of having a heart of ice? Her heart was clearly hot and gullible, not to mention perfidious. Shane was the one with a frozen stone lying behind that beautiful chest of his—the same chest that she’d snuggled against so warmly not ten minutes ago while his low laughter vibrated into her cheek. Now he was back to tying her up to this bed again, his expression fixed and furious.
How could she have been so stupid? How could she have just allowed that man, Tim, to walk away without asking him to take her with him? What if Moody had noticed that she’d left town so soon after Huey’s death? How many people had she endangered with a childhood infatuation that stubbornly refused to die?
Shane had lulled her with his soft caresses, erotic love play and sultry kisses. She’d been bewitched by his whispered temptations to let go . . . to give him control. He’d forced her to forget herself until she’d been luxuriating in his strong arms, remembering the old times together . . . falling deeper and deeper into his sensual trap.
She didn’t even bother to watch him once he’d restrained her wrists and walked to the other side of the room. She just stared up at the ceiling, willing herself not to think . . . not to feel. A whimper of protest left her throat, however, when Shane matter-of-factly jerked down her sweatpants a moment later, pulled them off, and tossed them next to her on the bed.
He held something in his right hand but she couldn’t make out what it was as he grabbed one of her ankles.
“What are you doing?” she asked when he laced both of her feet through what looked like thin black straps. The next thing she knew he pulled them up her legs, almost as if he were putting a pair of underwear on her. He didn’t respond but merely went about his task in a brisk, businesslike manner. It wasn’t until he’d pulled up the straps near her waist that she felt one of them slide snugly into her butt crack like a thong.
Laura’s breath stuck in her throat when he pressed something against her labia with his fingers and fastened the black straps against her hips. Her eyes went wide when she saw what was pressed just above her clit—a one-by-two-inch little golden bee.
“Wha—”
“It’s a vibrator.”
Her gaze flew up to meet Shane’s stare. He must have noticed her perplexed expression. He didn’t say anything else though, just reached once again for her sweatpants and laced her ankles through them. When he’d secured them around her waist once again he unhooked her wrist cuffs from the restraints.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?” she asked, injecting as much contempt into her tone as possible to cover her confusion.
“I’ll show you. Just stand up.”
Laura realized when she stood that a thin cord was attached both to the golden bee on her pussy and a black box that Shane carried in his hand. She knew that Shane would be triumphant to know it—and that pissed her off as much as anything—but the sight of that thin black cord linking her and Shane together and the slight weight of the little bee on her clit created a slow, hot simmer of anticipation in her pussy.
And he hasn’t even turned the damn vibrator on yet, Laura thought resentfully as she followed him into the living room.
Shane pulled out one of the backless bar stools tucked beneath the high shelf of the kitchen counter. He nodded once, indicating he wanted her to sit down on it.
The living, dining, and kitchen area of the cabin all coexisted in the open space of the great room. The place where she sat overlooked the kitchen but also was close enough to the living room fire for Laura to appreciate the warmth.
“What are you going to do?” Laura asked uneasily.
“Make dinner.” She blinked in surprise at his unexpected answer. He placed the black box on the lower shelf of the kitchen counter and added a log to the fire before going to the kitchen. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“No. I don’t drink.”
He made a face as he reached for the bottle of wine on the counter and flung open a drawer. “You used to have a glass of wine once in a while.”
“Times change,” she replied coldly, refusing to watch him as he uncorked the bottle. Even though she and Huey essentially led separate existences, being around his alcoholic excesses over the years had tended to put a damper on her enjoyment of even a good glass of wine. She refused to comment when Shane set down a wineglass filled with the crimson liquid in front of her. He said nothing about her disgusted look but merely began to go about the business of preparing their meal.
Despite her attempts to remain aloof she couldn’t help but be curious when she saw all the ingredients that Shane had put on the counter: a pork tenderloin wrapped in white butcher’s paper, a box of Buttery brand premium crackers, salt, pepper, eggs, cooking oil, an enormous skillet, a cutting board, and a meat tenderizer.
“You’re not . . .”
“What?” Shane asked casually when her voice faded off.
“You’re not going to make your mother’s breaded pork tenderloins, are you?”
“You remember that, too?”
Her gaze skated up to his face. His blue eyes seemed to glow with amusement as he regarded her.
“Obviously I remember.”
His mouth twitched slightly and Laura suddenly knew for a fact that he was still irritated with her. “I almost forgot.”
“The recipe?” Laura wondered.
“No. This.”
She jumped slightly when he flipped the switch on the black box and the bee began to vibrate against her sensitive labia and clit. She made a choking sound at the powerful sensation. Having never used a vibrator she hadn’t expected the precision of the little instrument. Heat flooded her cheeks.
“Giving you a nice little buzz, baby?”
She dragged her gaze up to see Shane studying her reaction with a heavy-lidded stare.
“Too much, I think. You’ve got a sensitive little clit, haven’t you?” he murmured as he turned a small dial on the box. Laura breathed in raggedly when the golden bee began to buzz less strenuously. Against her will she pressed her pelvis forward in the stool, hungry for more of the delicious sensation. When she saw Shane’s eyelids narrow she forced her face into a neutral expression. She picked up the glass of wine in front of her and took a healthy swallow without ever telling herself to do so.
Shane smiled without a trace of irritation this time and resumed his meal preparation.
Laura sat there in mounting misery for the next several minutes, trying to think of anything but the bee buzzing industriously on her clit and silently scolding her hips for moving against her will, making tiny little hungry undulations against the vibrator.
“You okay, baby?” Shane asked. He’d just ground the enti
re box of Buttery crackers into fine crumbs in a bowl using the head of the meat tenderizer and an astonishing display of flexing muscle and male exuberance. He picked up the knife and began cutting the loin. “Do you want another glass of wine?”
Laura stared down at her empty glass and blinked in surprise. “Shane, have you ever actually made your mother’s tenderloins before?”
“No. But I told her I was making them this weekend and she gave me the recipe. Why? Am I doing something wrong?”
Laura pressed her mouth together in annoyance. She felt dampness on her upper lip and knew that it came from that damn little bee, not the warmth of the fire on her back.
“You’re cutting the meat too thin.”
“More like that?” he asked, adjusting the knife on the tenderloin. He glanced up at her for confirmation and Laura nodded. “I forgot my mom taught you how to make them.”
“You did not,” Laura muttered. She’d tried to sound disgusted but the combined effects of the buzzing bee, the glass of wine, and the novelty of watching Shane cook a meal for them made her voice sound bemused instead of annoyed. “Joey went on about them so much after having them at your house that Elizabeth asked me if I’d like to learn how to make them so Joey could have them at home.”
“I don’t get why she didn’t offer to show Joey how to do it,” Shane mumbled.
“You know I cooked for everyone after my mom died.”
“Yeah. I do.”
Laura glanced up at his tone only to find him watching her steadily. He resumed cutting the meat almost immediately. “Derrick shouldn’t have allowed that.”
“For me to cook?” Laura asked in amazement.
“Not just cook. Cook for everyone. Take care of everyone. You were just a little girl yourself. Who was taking care of you?”
Laura shrugged. “My mother taught me to do all of those things. My father and Derrick grew up in Cuba. It’s a different culture. Women do things like that for men.”
Shane’s raised eyebrows told her he wasn’t buying her argument.
“I wanted to cook for them. I wanted to look out for Joey . . . and especially for Peter. Mom’s and Dad’s death hit him hardest of all.”