Stranger in My House (A Murder In Texas)

by Mari Manning

  Grabbing her hand, he pulled her to the stairs. “The bed’s this way.”

  A flash of uncertainty crossed her face.

  Shit. “Are you coming?” he asked.

  Her eyes flicked to the front of his pants. “Yes.”

  His relief was so strong he could have lifted a thousand pounds with it.

  He pulled her up the stairs, fumbling impatiently with the locks until they burst into the coach house and nearly tumbled over the back of the sofa. He’d bribed Brittany to dust, pick up the clothes on his bedroom floor, and wash his sheets.

  Her eyes slid to the bedroom and the neatly made bed. “You did this for me?”

  “Yeah.” The word sounded like a croak.

  “You were sure I’d come?”

  He knew a trick question when he heard it. He met her eyes. “Hoped.”

  She studied him.

  He jerked his chin at her dress. “Take it off, baby. Let me see you.”

  “Oh.” She seemed startled.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” Her arms dropped slowly to her hips, and her dress slid down and puddled at her feet.

  She had the body of a goddess—full breasts and round hips. Small waist. Flat stomach. He unhooked her bra. “You are amazing,” he said.

  She blushed. “What about you?”

  He shot her a boyish grin. “Come and get me.”

  “Okay.” Solemnly, she undid the buttons of his shirt and unbuckled his belt, while his hands roamed her perfect body. Her fingers hesitated at the waistband of his khakis.

  He pulled her close and slipped his hands into the back of her panties. He kneaded her bottom, letting the tips of his fingers linger in the dampness between her legs.

  Her arm jerked. Zip! His pants fell around his ankles. Good girl.

  He slipped out of his Top-Siders and kicked the pants away. He was naked except for the shirt hanging off his shoulders and briefs that were doing a very bad job of containing him.

  “Oh,” she said, and reached for him.

  One touch, and he was going to embarrass himself. “Hold your horses,” he growled.

  He scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom. His arms released her a few inches over the bed, and she landed with a bounce. He expected a squeal or a giggle, but she seemed stunned.

  Shit. Kirby wasn’t his usual good-time girl. She was a lady cop. A lady. And a lady liked to be coaxed. He reined it in just a little.

  He got down on the bed before he lost her, trailed his hand down her chest, around her breasts, across her flat waist, over her mound, lingering there for a moment before continuing his exploration of her body.

  He reached her feet. “Let’s get rid of these.” He slipped off her sandals, then leaned down and kissed the tops of her toes. Her knees slipped open a few inches.

  He’d need more space than that to get where he wanted to be.

  His fingers traced the lean muscles of her calves, the bump of her knees, kneaded her downy thighs, teased the elastic legs of her panties. He dropped his head and kissed her nipples. He took one into his mouth and suckled the honeyed bud, pulling it between his lips, flicking it with his tongue until she squirmed. Then he went to work on the other breast.

  “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful, baby.” He whispered the words against her skin.

  Her dark eyes watched him under half-closed lids. Her knees moved a little farther apart.

  She was almost there. He slipped a finger inside her panties, then inside her. She was hot and wet. Tight. Ready. His hand made lazy circles around the hard nub of her until her bottom pulled off the bed. He chuckled before he touched her, giving her a little of what she was begging him for.

  A moan escaped her lips. “Seth,” she gasped.

  “I can’t wait, either, baby.” He pulled down his briefs. His penis sprang free.

  Her eyes widened. Her fingers slipped from his waist and sheathed him. “You’re hot.”

  And ready to explode. He pushed away her hand, snatched a condom from the bedside table, slid it on.

  “Come here,” he said, and stretched out beside her on the bed. He yanked her panties off. Lifted her leg to his waist so he could feel the heat and dampness of her with his cock. Her mouth worked against his neck, and he dipped his head for a kiss. Her breath came in gasps; her heart fluttered against his chest. She was as hot for him as he was for her.

  With a quick flip, he rolled her onto her back, landing between her legs, her sweet knees squeezing his hips. Ah, heaven.

  He settled her under him, her thighs beneath his hips, her breasts against his ribs, her mouth kissing his neck. A perfect fit. He pushed her legs wide and found her heat and wetness. His penis pressed against her. She wasn’t lifting her hips to open for him, so he reached between her legs and rubbed gently.

  She cried out, and her eyes flew open. She was coming without him!

  “Christ,” he muttered. “Wait for me.”

  He lifted her hips, and with a hard thrust, he pushed himself inside her. She was the tightest woman he’d ever screwed. For a moment, her body resisted him, then he was buried in her.

  She winced.

  The roar started in the pit of his stomach. “Fuck!”

  Chapter Twenty

  Kirby was busted. She knew it before Seth rolled away from her, before he sprang off the bed like it was on fire, before he began to spit words at her like a machine gun.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You lied to me!” He stared down at her spread-eagle body.

  She sat up, curled into a ball, covering her breasts with her arms and the dark hair between her legs with her hip. “Uh, do you have a shirt or a robe or something?”

  “Why? I’m not going to see anything I haven’t already enjoyed.” He was rumpled and ruffled and royally pissed.

  “I don’t know why you’re so heated up. This is just business as usual for you.”

  He tossed his shirt at her but didn’t shield his flushed body or rapidly shrinking erection. He yanked off the condom and slammed it into the wastepaper basket.

  “Business as usual for me? Like lying is for you and your sister?”

  He hated her. She’d never again feel his weight on her, the urgent push of his thighs, the rasp of his sex-drunk voice. She’d never see his naked perfection or smell his skin or taste his lips. She’d never know the pleasure of his body, the promise just beyond her grasp. She pulled his shirt over her shoulders, its lingering warmth more torture than relief.

  “There are not a lot of twenty-five-year-old virgins. I didn’t want you to think there’s something wrong with me.”

  “Is there?”

  She shook her head.

  “I want to hear some words.”

  “I lived with Grandy all my life. He was old-fashioned, and I didn’t want to sneak…or lie. Since he died last year, it’s been…I mean, I’ve been, uh, sad.”

  His expression softened. “Are you bleeding?”

  “I-I’m not sure.” Her cheeks burned.

  “The bathroom’s that way,” he said, nodding over his shoulder.

  She didn’t move. Couldn’t.

  “Come on.” He pulled her off the bed and pushed her into the bathroom. She tried to shut the door. He pushed in behind her.

  The bathroom was old and small. Over an ancient washstand, a tarnished mirror hung askew. She met her eyes—dark and sad and unsure—then raised them to Seth’s guarded gaze.

  “Why do you hate virgins?”

  The mirror reflected his penis coming to life. “I don’t hate virgins.” He followed the direction of her eyes. An eyebrow rose. “Can’t you tell?”

  “Strictly speaking, I’m not a virgin.”

  He pulled his shirt off her. “That’s right, you’re not.” His voice was low and husky, but he was not smiling.

  “Seth. Answer me.”

  His eyes didn’t waver from hers; his expression never softened. “I don’t do happily ever after. That’s what m
ost virgins are waiting for.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just don’t, Kirby. Leave it alone.”

  She studied him, studied his stiff shoulders, his narrowed, wary eyes. You’re afraid. But she didn’t say it. He’d deny it. Then he’d send her back to the house and never come near her again. She gave him a nonchalant shrug. “Understood.”

  He nodded, then reached behind a mildewed curtain. The rumble of falling water filled the bathroom. “Into the shower with you.”

  While he watched? Not a chance. “I just need a washcloth and a little privacy.”

  “Just do what I say.”

  “It’ll just take me a few seconds—”

  He pulled the curtain back. Steam rose in soft clouds from an old claw-foot tub. “Let’s go.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she stepped into the tub. So did he.

  “Seth?”

  A genuine smile lit his face. He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Since the damage is done, so to speak, and we have an understanding, there’s no reason to end the evening just yet… Unless you’ve had enough?”

  Enough? Blessed relief washed over her.

  “You can say no, Kirby. I’ll understand.”

  Yes. Yes, yes, yes, multiplied by a million. She lifted herself on her toes and nuzzled the base of his throat. “More, please,” she whispered. His manhood saluted her like a seasoned soldier.

  “For a first timer, you sure know how to turn a guy on.” He produced a bar of soap. “Time for me to return the favor.”

  He soaped her arms, her shoulders, her waist. Beneath his sudsy palms, goose bumps rose on her skin. She closed her eyes and rested her hands on his shoulders to steady wobbly knees. He was teasing her. Avoiding her breasts and the throbbing nub between her legs that screamed for his touch.

  “Are you sure I need all this soap? I’m not sweaty or anything,” she purred. She thrust her hips close to him and rubbed his erection.

  He chuckled. “I’ll be the judge of that.” His slick palms slid to her breasts, circling until she wiggled and gasped. His hands covered her nipples, squeezing them gently between his thumbs and forefingers. Desire shot straight from her breasts to her groin.

  She fell against him. “Let’s go back to bed.”

  “Quiet. I can’t concentrate.” He turned her around.

  “What are you doing?”

  His soft mouth pressed against her back. “Hush, baby. I’m making you feel good. Okay?”

  “Seth, I don’t—”

  “I won’t hurt you. Trust me.”

  She had no choice. She wanted him naked and touching her. She wanted him pleased and sated. She wanted him close in all the ways she could imagine and all the ways she’d yet to learn.

  Slick hands glided over her bottom, and confident fingers pushed her lips apart and slipped inside her. His belly pressed against her spine. His penis pushed at her waist. But that was all. Except for the bold fingers between her legs. Fingers that knew what to touch and how. She forgot to breathe.

  Her body tightened, throbbed. She needed him to rub her again. Her bottom pushed and wiggled against his hips.

  “Ready to try it again?” His breath was hot against her neck. His voice raspy and sexy and deep.

  She nodded.

  “That’s my girl.”

  He grabbed a towel from the rack, rubbed her dry, then himself and pulled her into the bedroom. She lay on the bed and watched him slip on another condom, her gaze drifting across his broad back and tight ass, the bulge between his legs. Soon it would be between hers. Her flesh pulsed at the thought. Touch me.

  The bed sagged. He knelt between her legs. His hands pressed against her thighs, spreading them wide.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to close her knees.

  He held her legs still, not taking his eyes off the throbbing core of her. “I’ve never had a virgin before, but since you’ve landed in my bed, that makes me your teacher.”

  She tried to twist her hip. “What does that mean?”

  He held her knees down. “It means I intend to make sure you don’t wait another twenty-five years before you spread your legs for a man.”

  “You don’t have to do this.” A small, squeaky protest that got swallowed by a gasp of pleasure as he bent his head and traced her folds with the tip of his tongue until she forgot to breathe and her body squirmed around him.

  When she begged, “Please, Seth,” he caressed and circled and played with her. His thumbs drew soft swirls on the insides of her thighs; a finger slipped inside her, then two. He stretched and stroked until she was hot and wet and every nerve ending was alive with need.

  “Move your hips for me, baby.” His breath was warm.

  “I can’t.”

  “Move your hips.”

  She obeyed. Pushing herself against his tongue, feeling the resistance of his fingers still buried deep inside her. His mouth, so wily and sure, traced the small nub of her desire.

  “Come on, baby. If you want it, you have to take it.”

  She did. Her hips thrust against his mouth. She was brazen and scandalous. Legs open. Seth’s mouth on her most private possession. She pushed faster, feeling the coil of her pleasure as a glorious ache and an unnamed need. An obsession.

  Abruptly, he pulled away from her.

  She gasped. “Seth? What—”

  “I’m coming, baby. It’s okay.” He rose on his knees and covered her with his body. His mouth found hers.

  She opened her eyes, gazed up at him.

  Half-lidded blue eyes studied her. Then he smiled lazily. “Ready?”

  His erection was hard and hot. The twist of her desire damp and deep. “Yes.”

  She raised her hips to him, the brush of his skin against her reigniting her desire. He entered her slowly, pushing gently into her, making her gasp and wiggle beneath him. She pressed her mouth to his jaw, needing a taste of his salty skin. Her hands slid down his back, riding over thick muscles and a narrow waist, squeezing hard buttocks. “Shit, baby, you’re driving me crazy.”

  She pushed her hips into him, offered him all of her, felt the beginning of her own unraveling.

  “You’re so tight.” He raised himself on his arms and thrust hard.

  She gasped. He was deep inside, filling every inch of her. His hot skin burned her, his breath perfumed her face, his penis, buried deep, pierced a bubble of emotions she’d not known existed. Quivering joy, mutual pleasure, and…tenderness.

  He pulled her thighs to his waist. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  She clung to him like a needy baby, her body aching for whatever was coming next. He drove into her, widening, thrusting deep, deeper. She met him, push for push, straining against his body until she contracted around him. Pleasure gripped her in waves.

  The night had revealed, finally, its secret, and it spun over her and around them both. This secret of two bodies and one desire.

  “Oh, baby.”

  She opened her eyes and watched a parade of emotions march across his handsome face—intensity, triumph, pleasure, and, finally, peace. He collapsed, his damp skin coming to rest against hers.

  He opened his eyes, still darkened by desire, and smiled. She smiled back. Dangerous words floated in her head: I love you.

  …

  The rumble of distant thunder woke Kirby. She opened her eyes and surprised Seth.

  Propped on an elbow, he was studying her. In that first flash of sight, she captured his creased forehead, knitted brows, puffy lower lip worried by his teeth. Then his gaze met hers, and his expression smoothed. He kissed her nose.

  “Are you sore?”

  “Not too bad.” She pulled the sheet over her breasts. “Why are you staring at me?”

  “Wondering why a hot lady cop like you never found a guy to settle down with.”

  In daybreak’s gray light, his skin was pale, his face shadowed by dark stubble, a lock of black hair hanging over his eyes.

  Tantalizing and teasing, tre
acherous…tempting. Her lover.

  “You got a thing for cops?” She trailed a finger down his corded arm.

  “I got a thing for ladies who pack. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “None of the guys I brought home hit the mark with Grandy. And none of the solid citizens Grandy dug up worked for me.”

  He lifted her hair and let it fall through his fingers. “Were they all bucktoothed and fat?”

  Scott’s cherubic face flashed in her head followed by a stab of guilt. “Of course not. I’m just a romantic, I guess.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I want a man who will be my soul mate.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Someone who makes me feel like I’m half of a whole.”

  He frowned. “What made you change your mind about waiting?” His voice was sharp with warning.

  Keep it light. “I’m getting old, I guess. What if I never find him?”

  He dropped his eyes and studied the pillows. “So what would a guy have to do to be your soul mate?”

  She could feel his interest, his longing, his loneliness. Her heart contracted. “I don’t know.”

  “How will you know you’ve met him if you don’t know what you’re looking for?”

  “Not everything is under our control, Seth,” she said softly. “It’s not a job interview. It’s love.”

  He stiffened. “Love is just a word.”

  “Maybe.”

  His eyes iced over, turned hard.

  She backed down. A little. “I want a man who will be my best friend. Everything else is negotiable.”

  A bolt of lightning cracked over the coach house. He studied the black clouds plowing across the sky. “You should go before it starts pouring.”

  She let her hand drop away from his arm and tried to push away her disappointment. “Sure thing.”

  The bathroom floor was a wasteland of damp towels and one black shirt. A bar of soap rested in the sink, the shower curtain was flung aside, water dripped from the faucet. In the mirror she stared at tangled hair and swollen lips and naked breasts. Her gaze rose to the blank space where Seth had been when he’d decided to forgive her, to teach her, to take her. The lesson had been an easy one—do this, move that, touch this, kiss that. He’d known everything but why. She refocused on the mirror. The dark eyes gazing back at her were dazed.