Rattling the Heat in Deadwood

by Ann Charles

  “Why do you think it’s my problem?”

  “Because of Tiffany.” My voice croaked a little while letting that deep-down truth free.

  He nodded slowly. “There it is. I knew it.” A smile curved the corner of his lips. “How many times have I said that you are different from Tiffany?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe once or twice.”

  He let out a bark of laughter. “Bullshit. I’ve said it several times and you know it.”

  “Okay, maybe three or four times.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “You are so damned complicated, woman.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s one of the things I love about you. You’re a puzzle I’m constantly trying to solve. As soon as I get the sides all pieced together, you blow into the room and send the pieces flying.”

  That didn’t sound like something to love, especially for a guy who liked to be in control of his world.

  I needed to finish saying what I’d started with this whole truth dump since Doc now planned on attending Christmas festivities with my family. “Doc, in the future, when my father talks to you about marrying his daughter, if you can just play along and know that I don’t expect you to follow through, I’d appreciate it. That would reduce my anxiety about you being around them tenfold.”

  “No.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean, no?”

  “I’m not going to lie to your father. That goes against my morals.”

  “Okay, then maybe you could—”

  “Violet, I’m not allergic to marriage.”

  The M word made me gulp. Here it was, that moment I’d been dreading for months. “Oh.”

  “I left Tiffany because of her obsessive, competitive nature. I got tired of her games. It just so happened that she brought up marriage when I was on my way out. One had nothing to do with the other.”

  “Oh,” I said again, my mouth too dry.

  “You and I are not dating here.”

  I stared at him barely breathing. “What are we doing then?”

  “We are building a relationship based on love and trust.” His gaze lowered to my boots. “And desire.”

  “Okay.” My heart thudded in my throat, still not certain if it should start pounding for joy.

  “If your father asks what my intentions are toward you,” he continued. “I’ll tell him that I’m going to do everything in my power to make his daughter happy and feel safe.”

  I nodded. Those were both good things.

  “If that leads to marriage,” he said, “then so be it.”

  If? IF? What did he mean, IF?!

  Doc grabbed the hem of my sweater and lifted it over my head, tossing it aside. “I’ll also tell him that I’m head over heels for his daughter.”

  He scooped me up and took me over to his bed, lowering me onto it. “That I can’t stop thinking about her day and night.”

  He pulled off one of my boots. “That I adore her two kids.”

  The other boot came next. “That I feel incredibly lucky she has set her sights on me.”

  He grabbed the waist of my yoga pants and dragged them down and off in one tug. “That I will take a bullet for her without thinking twice.”

  His gaze ogled me from head to toe, centering on my panties. “But I won’t tell him that I often fantasize about stripping her naked and burying myself between her soft thighs.”

  My libido sat up and roared.

  He snagged my underwear, yanking them down. They went the way of the rest of my clothes.

  “That my favorite place to be is inside of her, making her cry out in pleasure.”

  The front hook on my bra didn’t slow him for a moment. He let it fall open, leaving me lying there in my birthday suit, my brain sputtering from his verbal onslaught.

  “And I won’t tell him that the thought of losing her love feels like a knife piercing my chest.” He unbuttoned his jeans, stepping out of them.

  He crawled on the bed, hovering over me, his knee parting my legs. “Or that every time she looks at me with those stunning green eyes my heart races.”

  His head dipped, his tongue trailing up my cleavage. I buried my fingers in his hair, moaning as his tongue circled one breast and then the other, teasing without hitting the mark.

  “Or that her sexy voice is one of my favorite sounds.”

  His hand slid down my stomach, dipping lower.

  “Doc,” I whispered and moaned, lifting my hips to meet him.

  “Especially when she says my name while I’m making love to her.” His fingers explored, teasing, rubbing, making my body hum.

  He nuzzled my ear, his alluring scent and expert touch twisting together to make one hell of a tornado of need churning inside of me. I grasped his shoulders, writhing under his touch as my body tightened, pleasure spinning faster and faster.

  “And,” he whispered in my ear as his fingers strummed and delved, filling me. “I would never tell that I lie awake at night, thinking about all of the places on her body that I like to lick.” He pulled his hand away, making me cry out in complaint. “And taste.”

  His lips moved lower, his tongue taking over where his fingers had lit me up seconds before. My fingers laced through his hair, holding on for dear life as he licked and sucked and turned me inside out.

  There were no more words then, only moans and my loud cry when I arched off the bed. Then I sank back down while waves of pleasure rippled through me.

  He stood long enough to peel off his shirt. Then he was back, pulling me to the edge of the bed.

  “My boots?” I asked, knowing how much he liked me to wear them during sex.

  “There’s no time for them tonight, vixen.”

  I sat up. “You sure.”

  He shed his briefs. “Positive.”

  “I could bend over for the soap,” I flirted.

  “Not this time.” He fell onto the bed next to me and pulled me on top of him. “I want to watch your face as I make you mine tonight.”

  I straddled him. “Possessive. I like it.”

  But first, I wanted to show him how much his words made me burn for him. I leaned over him, kissing him slowly. I sucked his tongue into my mouth, tangling mine with his while I linked my fingers in his and held his hands flat against the mattress. He groaned, moving his hips, searching for me.

  “Not yet,” I said.

  I rubbed my bare chest over his, teasing him with brushes of my body from top to bottom. My kisses were wet and wild in the pre-feeding frenzy.

  “Violet,” he gasped after I slid along his length. His voice was husky, guttural with want.

  I reached down and cupped, stroked, gripped. “Is this what you fantasize about?” I whispered, my teeth tugging on his earlobe.

  “Yes,” he groaned. “Now, please!”

  “Not yet.” I wasn’t done showing him how much I loved him. I circled his lips with my tongue and then stared down at him until his gaze met mine. His lids were heavy with lust, his eyes dilated with desire. Seeing Doc locked in the throes of passion nearly made me lose hold of my own control.

  “Doc,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I only kept you from my family out of fear of losing you.” I lowered my mouth, kissing him slowly, making love to his lips.

  He took me by the face, pushing me away enough to say, “I’d walk through Hell for you, Violet. You won’t lose me that easily.” Then he kissed me back.

  While his tongue was busy stroking mine, I slid down onto him.

  His breath caught, his eyes widened.

  I smiled against his lips, lifting and lowering again.

  His head tipped back, his eyes closing. “Oh, God, Boots,” he rasped. His hands spanned my hips and helped me along, pulling and pushing, faster and faster.

  He beat me to the punch this time, bowing under me, all of his muscles locked as he cursed at the ceiling. I kept rocking my hips, drawing it out for him. When he finished shuddering and returned to earth, he fli
pped me onto my back and shoved me inch by inch up the bed until my body locked around him. I moaned and quaked, my hands clenching onto his shoulders, my body pulsing.

  Then there was silence, broken only by our heavy breathing.

  Outside his window, the snow fell.

  Doc’s body spanned mine, keeping me warm as the heat of desire waned. “Violet.”

  “Yeah?” I ran my fingernails up and down his back.

  “I love you.”

  I smiled at the ceiling, my heart kicking up its heels in joy. “I love you, too.”

  “Does the idea of marrying a medium scare you?”

  My heart stopped mid-kick. “Uh, no.”

  “Good.”

  I waited for him to say something else, like maybe ask if I wanted to marry a medium anytime soon, but nothing else came. I kept stroking his back, realizing that I was okay with no proposal. It was too soon. We had a lot to work through before that next step, including two kids who weren’t ready for me to turn a lover into a husband. Just knowing marriage was an option for the future was enough for now.

  But that didn’t stop me from asking, “Does the idea of marrying an executioner scare you?”

  “A bit.”

  My fingers paused. “It does?”

  “I’ve seen you in action, Killer. I’d be lying if I said that your skill with a weapon doesn’t make my balls tuck up a little, especially when you’re swinging your war hammer.”

  I chuckled.

  He lifted his head. “But it’s sexy as hell at the same time.”

  His cell phone rang from somewhere in the room. He pushed off the bed, grabbing his phone from his dresser, looking down at the screen. “Damn. Playtime is over, I guess,” he said, answering with, “Hey, Coop.”

  He glanced over at me. “Yeah, she’s here.”

  “Got it. Give us about fifteen minutes.” He hung up and tossed the phone on the bed next to me, pulling on his briefs. “We have to get you home, Cinderella.”

  I sat up, noticing his phone case. I lifted it, holding it up in the light. On the case was my picture from last Halloween in my Morticia Addams costume. Someone must have taken the shot while I wasn’t paying attention, probably Natalie. I vaguely remember her taking some pictures of her cousins, who were visiting at that time. At the bottom of my picture were the words: Cara Mia.

  “What’s this?” I asked, holding up his phone.

  He shrugged on his shirt, his smile sheepish. “Natalie sent me that picture. I liked it.”

  “You made a phone case with my picture?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why, Doc,” I said, grinning. “You are such an old romantic.”

  “What can I say, Tish? I’m smitten.”

  I went up on my knees, naked still, holding out my arms. “Come here, Gomez.”

  His eyes narrowed as he neared. “Why?”

  “I want to show you how much I love you.”

  “We don’t have time for sex. Coop’s waiting.”

  Cooper could chill. I caught Doc’s arm and pulled him closer, sliding one hand around the back of his neck. I kissed him with all of the emotion I could muster. While I worked my magic, my other hand slid south, my nails scraping over his briefs, bringing him back to life. I leaned back, smiling. “Who said anything about sex?”

  He stared down at my mouth. “Uhhh.”

  I slid off the bed and kneeled in front of him. Hooking my fingers in his briefs, I tugged them down. “If I do this right, it should only take a few minutes.”

  I winked up at him, licking my lips.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed.

  I took him in hand … and followed with my mouth.

  I did it right.

  It didn’t take long at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sunday, December 9th

  Not even the sight of Cooper standing at the coffee maker first thing the next morning could drag me down after the trip to the moon in Doc’s bedroom.

  “What is that piercing sound coming from you?” he said, glaring at me. He’d added a faded red flannel shirt to his usual early morning attire of sweatpants. “It’s like wind is leaking from your ears.”

  “It’s called whistling.” I bumped him aside, reaching for a mug. “Some detective you are.”

  “Why are you whistling after yesterday’s debacle?”

  I shrugged. “When life gives you lemons, grab some tequila and salt and have a fiesta.” Actually, I preferred limes with my shots.

  “Shut up, Parker.” He moved to the table, dropping into a chair.

  “Ah, what’s wrong, Mr. Grumpy Pants?”

  “Considering your situation, I can’t see any reason for you to be whistling. We’re all fucked.”

  How was he fucked? I was the one who would be charged with murder and forced to wear bright orange for decades.

  I shrugged off his doom and gloom. “If you must know, I’m whistling because I got laid.”

  He cringed. “Jesus, Parker. Stop, please, before you make my ears bleed.”

  “You should try it sometime,” I continued. “Maybe then you’d stop acting like you have a golf club jammed up your ass.”

  He set his cup down on the table with a clunk. “You’re as bad as living with my uncle.”

  “Not quite. If I was even close to Harvey’s level of candor, I’d be giving you the nitty-gritty details of my sexual escapades.” I grabbed the milk from the fridge. “Including smells and tastes.”

  He pointed at me, giving me a gunslinger squint. “Don’t even think of it.”

  “Listen, Coop. If you’re going to share coffee with me every morning, we might as well drop the niceties.” I poured the milk and took it back to the fridge.

  “That’s ‘Cooper’ to you. Better yet, ‘Detective Cooper’ first thing in the morning.”

  “Hey, you asked why I was smiling when shit is about to hit the fan. I could give you some mumbo-jumbo like they write on those motivational calendars.” I dropped into the chair opposite him. “Or I could tell the truth and only the truth, so help me God.”

  He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Are you done?”

  “For now.” I sipped my coffee, grinning like a monkey with two bananas.

  “Good. What time am I picking you up today?” he asked.

  We had houses to see in spite of the snow, which had quit falling shortly after Doc and I had returned to Aunt Zoe’s last night. While eating leftovers, Cooper had offered to drive today. I’d hesitated, since we’d be riding in one of the Deadwood Police Durangos, which might encourage more nicknames from the other cops. However, Doc reminded me of the steep hills and snow-packed roads, and the meaty snow tires on Cooper’s vehicle.

  “Natalie said she’d be ready around noon. Does that work for you?”

  He scowled at me. “Does she really need to go with us?”

  That earned a frown from me. “Don’t you enjoy her company?” And by “enjoy,” I meant pined for her every waking moment.

  “You know I do. But …” Lines filled his face.

  “But what?”

  “We might run into someone, and I’d rather she not be there if that happens.”

  “You mean Detective Hawke?”

  “No.”

  Who else would he … I met his steely gaze. “Oh.”

  He nodded once.

  “So, you don’t want Nat to see you pull a Scooby-Doo and leap into my arms when a wispy villain appears?”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Come on, Scoob,” I said in my best Shaggy imitation. “Like, you can do this, man.”

  “Hilarious, Shaggy.”

  I leaned forward, grinning in spite of his scowl. “We could have Natalie wear big round glasses and an orange sweater and yell, ‘Jinkies!’ when the ghost appears.”

  “Parker,” he warned.

  “How about if I promise to pack some extra Scooby snacks for the day?”

  “That’s it. I don’t care if you are Nyce’s woman, I’m
going to teach your son to start leaving the toilet seat up.”

  I laughed, looking up as Aunt Zoe walked into the kitchen in her robe and slippers.

  She paused, looking back and forth between Cooper and me, her brow wrinkling. “Violet, dear, are you delirious with fever?”

  That made me laugh harder.

  “She got laid,” Cooper told her, draining his coffee in one gulp.

  “Ah. That is one of the side effects of leaving her alone with Doc for too long.”

  He stood, taking his coffee cup to the sink. “I’m going to hop in the shower if neither of you need it.”

  I was still chuckling as he left the room. “Good morning,” I said, puckering up for Aunt Zoe.

  “Dang,” she said, coming closer and lowering her cheek to my lips. “Doc must have really gotten the job done.”

  I fanned myself, sighing dramatically.

  She headed for the coffee maker. “Must be nice.”

  “Yes, it was. Doc Nyce.” I giggled.

  “Is there tequila in that cup?”

  “Not yet, but the day is young.” I sobered, a smile still warming my cheeks. “We talked about the M-word.”

  “You and Cooper? How’s Doc going to feel about that,” she joked, joining me at the table.

  “He didn’t ask me to marry him or anything like that,” I said quietly, glancing over toward the dining room to make sure we didn’t have little eavesdroppers. “But he made it clear that he’s not averse to it.”

  “Great. Did he have someone in mind?” She grinned.

  “You’re on fire this morning,” I said, squeezing her hand.

  “When you’re hot, you’re hot.”

  “We should call the fire department and have them send the captain over with his hose.”

  “If he brings that hose anywhere near me, I’ll tie it in a knot.”

  “You might’ve already done that when you gave him hell on the porch yesterday and sent him packing.”

  She groaned and massaged her temples. “Don’t remind me of that disaster. That son of a bitch thinks that because I’ve let him come over for supper a couple of times he has a leg up on any other man interested in me.”

  I rested my chin on my palm. “Does he?”

  She huffed at me. “Yes, dammit.”

  “Are you going to tell him that?”

  She shook her head. “Reid is trouble.”