Ending Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 3)

by Vickie McKeehan

  “It certainly never hurts my chances. Come on, Quinn, where’s your sense of adventure? Adventure isn’t just a ride in the air or a bounce at sea.”

  Recognizing her own words, she lifted her arms, draped them around his neck.

  He circled her waist in a liquid embrace. They swayed to the melody until soon she wasn’t sure where he began and she ended.

  Never known as light on her feet, she knew rhythm when she sensed it. The man knew what to do with his feet. She floated, dreamlike in a fog, caught up in the man, the tender way he held her, the way his body responded to the song and to her.

  When the track switched to In My Arms a faster tempo, Reese never missed stride but kept her hugged up as they took another spin around the room, this time at a faster pace.

  She wasn’t sure when his tongue began to trace along the pulse in her neck or zero in on that sensitive spot next to her ear. All she knew was she didn’t want him to ever stop this romantic gesture, so she tilted her head to give him better access.

  His mouth covered hers briefly until he suddenly stepped back. His hands tugged up his own T-shirt and sent it flying in a basketball arch across the room. “Miss Tyler, you’ve bought into part of the package. Now it’s time to check out the whole thing.”

  Quinn blinked in surprise as she stood watching the stuffy lawyer turn into one of the Chippendale dancers.

  With the drum beat soaring, he slowly unzipped his jeans, all the while keeping time to the music. His hips gyrated while at the same time, leg by leg, he kicked out of the denim. By the time the song changed to Looking for a Girl Reese was down to his boxers.

  Not to be outdone, Quinn returned the favor. She pulled her Tee up and over her head, tossing it in the air. Doing her best to keep the beat, she unhooked the front clasp of her bra, but kept it in place in a teasing fashion. Seductively, she moved first one shoulder, then the other.

  Reese let out a low whistle of encouragement.

  Striking a sexy pose, she let go of the bra and twirled it in time to the music. She unsnapped the top button of her jeans, slowly glided down the zipper.

  Reese narrowed his eyes as he watched her slither out of the pants one long leg at a time. He sucked in a breath when he realized she wore no underwear.

  They made a dive for each other.

  She ran her hands along his back, worked his boxers down and off.

  He tilted his head down and devoured.

  Her breath hitched.

  He felt her tremor right before he took the kiss lower. Adept fingers ran a line to her breast where they toyed with a nipple as he began a slow taste and lick along her neck.

  He backed her up in the direction of the sofa.

  Quinn grabbed his butt on the walk backwards until together they missed the couch entirely and slid down to the rug on the floor.

  Between mouthy kisses, she murmured, “Now. Reese. Now.”

  Body to body, he covered hers.

  She yanked his head down to her level, fed off his mouth.

  He nibbled his way down her neck again, nipping and biting before coming to a stop at one rippled peak. His tongue savored the texture before toying with its hardened point.

  He went after the other until it popped out firm and rigid.

  His fingers sought out the heat. Stroking, probing, he felt every layer by rising layer as he watched her climb, watched her eyes glaze over with pleasure. She cried out when she came.

  “Now, Reese, now—for God’s sake!”

  “Mmm, not yet. I need to taste you first.” He moved lower, used his tongue until he tormented a couple of low moans out of her. First in, then out, until he felt her body quake and shudder to another climax.

  With that, he rose over her, his mouth connected with hers again. He wrapped his hands around her hips and drove himself inside.

  Under him, this time, Quinn launched her own beat to match his. Fast, slow, and then long, slick strokes.

  The minute he felt her body quiver once again, he let himself go, flowing everything he had into her.

  Quinn breathed out a shaky breath. “God, how did you— hold out for that long? I came three times, that’s—unusual for me.”

  “Superior intellect?”

  She poked him in the ribs. “Show off. And what was that Chippendale routine? Work your way through law school as a dancer?”

  “Hey, who says a lawyer shouldn’t be able to take his best girl for a twirl on the dance floor every now and again?”

  She giggled in spite of herself before meeting his eyes. They were staring into hers.

  He leaned down, kissed her nose, then all at once reversed their positions until he was the one on the floor. “You have the most incredible body.” He ran his hands along her rear end and up her back, twirled some of that black silk through his long fingers.

  She gave him a mouthy, wet kiss. “You have a really nice ass.”

  He busted out laughing. “I get that a lot.”

  “You do not.”

  “You’ll never know, will you?”

  “You surprise me, Brennan.”

  “And you are way too serious, Tyler. You need to lighten up, get some spontaneity in your life.”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Like I’ve never heard that before,” she tossed back.

  Reluctantly, they started gathering up their clothes scattered all over the living room but they didn’t bother getting dressed. Naked, they made their way to the foyer, where Reese picked up one bag and Quinn the other.

  They lugged the stuff up the stairs. He watched her take point while he willingly followed her bare ass all the way up the steps.

  “I need that shower. Me first,” she declared.

  “Uh-uh. We shower—together. The hot water heater in this place looks like it was around in the ’40s.”

  Knowing it was true, she agreed, “Deal. If I remember correctly, the master bedroom is up here at the end of the hallway.”

  Sure enough they entered a large room with a hideous, ornate gold rococo bed taking up a good portion of the space. The two nightstands on either side had the same matching gold legs as the bed.

  “Oh, my God, I forgot about this.”

  “You mean the ugly furniture.”

  “Yeah, another thing we might have in common. You recognize bad taste when you see it.”

  Reese dropped his gear on the floor. “All it needs is one of those red canopies and I’d swear we were in a brothel.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And how many brothels have you seen up close and personal?”

  He’d walked right into that one. “Well, whoever decorated this room I don’t think it was wife material, as in Baylee’s mom, Sarah Moreland.”

  “Like minds and all that because that’s what I was thinking. Ick, you don’t actually believe Alana and Jessica ever slept…” But all of a sudden another image popped into her brain, one she didn’t want to think about, one where she remembered Ella and William Scott sharing this very bedroom for six weeks during one summer vacation when Ella had finagled an invite. William Scott hadn’t declined the opportunity of having a willing partner for the duration of the trip either.

  “I’m not sleeping in here,” Quinn announced. “There’s a perfectly good room down the hall, smaller maybe but...” She trotted off, peering into the other rooms.

  She found the middle bedroom, one with mission-style furniture painted a pale but conservative yellow much more to her liking.

  Reese trailed in and said, “Ah, much better. At least we won’t wake up thinking we’re in a cheap motel room in Vegas.”

  But Quinn took one look at the unmade bed where the sheets and covers were thrown back every which way as though someone had just crawled out of it and said, “We need to change the bedding. I’ll go see if there are any clean sheets in the linen closet. You strip off what’s on the bed.”

  “Typical. You get what you want out of me and turn bossy.”

  “Hmm, let me get my whip out then
,” she replied, rolling her eyes. She headed into the bathroom and soon came back with a mixed color assortment. “This is it, a pea green bottom sheet with bright purple for the top.”

  “Colorful,” Reese said as he bundled up the used bedding. “This entire place looks like it was decorated in the ’70s.”

  “Maybe even the ’60s. I know for certain the house was built in the ’40s.” She unfolded the green sheet; let it drift down to the mattress before tucking it in and under. “You know, I bet Dylan and Baylee were the first ones who’ve actually stayed here for any length of time in probably five or six years. As far as I know Mr. Williams stopped coming after Baylee left home.”

  “That must be why everything’s covered in several layers of dust. Why did you guys completely stop coming over here anyway?”

  She shrugged. “Once we moved out, the three of us just never made it back.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It didn’t seem right. Baylee’s dad threw a fit when he found out she’d left home. There was about a year there when he blamed me. Of course, he was right. If I hadn’t taken the leap…” She abruptly stopped in mid-sentence and got busy working on getting the bed ready.

  Her reluctance didn’t escape Reese. For some reason, she obviously did not want to revisit that time period when she’d left home. Instead of asking any more questions, though, out of the corner of his eye, he watched those lithe arms, her firm breasts, flat stomach, watched that nude body bend and twist over the bed.

  The minute they got the last corner of sheet in place, Reese nipped her around the waist and backed her toward the bathroom.

  She squealed like a kid, pumped a fist in the air. “Shower sex? Yessss!” She ran her hands up and over the muscles in his shoulders, and then latched on to his ass again. “You take pretty good care of yourself, Brennan—for a desk-jockey lawyer.”

  “Backatcha, Tyler, for a doctor.” He reached around her to start the water. While it took the ancient hot water heater forever to warm up, he made use of the time.

  His mouth ravaged hers.

  Slanting a look down at those dark eyes, he lowered his head, slicking his tongue along her breasts. “Love these,” he muttered. To prove it, he took a rosy peak into his mouth, savored it until it grew rigid.

  Her nipples already throbbed from his sucking motion. By the time her head lolled back in a sated state, he picked her up, stepped into the tub under the spray.

  Quinn already wanted him inside her.

  Dropping her to her feet, he began an assault on her mouth again.

  Between wet kisses, emphasizing each word, Quinn told him, “You’re such a dirty boy, Brennan. Let me take care of that.” She began to soap his rear end.

  “Good. ’Cause I plan to get a lot dirtier.”

  They took turns soaping each other while hands and fingers massaged, kneaded, explored slick and wet skin.

  “Now, Reese,” And with that she reached down, started working him into her. She climbed aboard, rode him hard and fast. Her eyes glazed over with white hot light while blasts of silver burst through her.

  He leaned her back against the tile, slipped his hands under her bottom and gripped her hips. With that, one deep thrust after another, he drove them drowning into bliss.

  Later, as they toweled off, Quinn told him, “Remind me not to do that with you standing up again. My legs are shaking. I think I saw stars.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You would,” she mumbled, but returned his grin with one of her own.

  She had no intentions of sharing any more than that. It had simply been sex, nothing more, she reminded herself as she crawled between clean, crisp sheets, and fell exhausted into slumber.

  CHAPTER 13

  Even though the slap stung, it had been well worth it.

  Quinn hated her stepfather, Ross, with a passion that came from knowing how the man looked at her each and every time he got within ten feet.

  It had been that way now for a couple of years.

  She hated the looks he gave her almost as much as she hated the way he smelled. He had fat, chunky fingers that always seemed to be wet and sticky when he touched her.

  Not that she let him get close enough to touch her very often.

  But sometimes at meals it was difficult to avoid him passing her a dish where his fingers might invariably linger for a little too long.

  Ever since she’d starting getting a chest, Ross Jennetti had become an even greater nemesis than he had been before. It got so bad at one point she’d taken to putting the chair from her desk in front of her bedroom door at night when she slept.

  She also kept her ever-present, trusty softball bat at the side of her bed where she could get to it just in case Ross ever got past the first line of defense. A propped-up chair, after all, wasn’t much of a deterrent to ward off the advances of a determined, six-foot-one inch man.

  That’s why there were nights she merely dozed, especially when Ella lit out for parts unknown and left her alone in the house with only Jennetti as her guardian. During those times it was left up to her to see that she never ended up spending much time in the same room with him for very long.

  It was even more important that she never let Jennetti get inside her bedroom.

  Even if it meant taking a slap, a slap was better than the alternative.

  That’s when she got into the habit of using a sharp tongue as a weapon. Slinging insults at the guy seemed to keep him at arm’s length. Even if it meant a slap across the face.

  Most times it worked.

  But tonight, she woke to find him standing over her, a hand to her mouth. She fought to reach the titanium bat, but felt the sting of another slap before his hands held her shoulders down, pinning her to the bed.

  She could handle the slap, but his body on top of hers made it difficult to breathe. She bucked. She kicked because Ross wanted to…

  Reese came awake at the sound of Quinn flaying about in bed next to him. Once again she didn’t seem to be awake but dreaming.

  Or was it a nightmare?

  Thrashing and turning her head to and fro, she was fighting an imaginary combatant. Her head bobbed and weaved as if she were in a fight for her life. Her body primed to take a blow.

  “Baby, come on now, wake up. Quinn…”

  He took a right jab to the jaw. Her ferocity and determination to land another punch had him capturing her arms. Not fully awake, he wasn’t quick enough to dodge another shot to the chin.

  Finally he straddled her. “Quinn, come out of it. You’re dreaming, honey. Come on, wake up.”

  Her eyes popped open. “Reese. Reese. You aren’t…get off of me! I can’t breathe!”

  “Not until you promise not to whack me again. You were dreaming.”

  “What? I… I…” She tried to erase the image of Ross on top of her and his sweaty hands gripping her legs. “Bad dream.”

  “No kidding. How often does it come back to you?”

  “Too often,” She breathed out and scooped hair out of her face, a face beaded now with perspiration. She hadn’t yet realized what she’d admitted.

  Still fog-brained, still shaky, she mumbled, “Water. I need some water.”

  He got up, went into the bathroom, turned the faucet to cold, and soaked a washcloth under the tap. On the way back to the bed, he dug into the gear they’d brought for a bottle of water.

  By the time he handed off the cool compress for her face, Quinn was sitting upright, the sheet draped over her crossed legs.

  As she wiped the sweat from her face, he uncapped the water.

  “When did it happen?”

  He did his best to sound calm even though he was anything but. He saw her swallow hard before chugging down half the bottle. She took several deep breaths as if buying time.

  He waited what seemed like an hour, as an old-fashioned clock on the nightstand ticked off the loud, eternal minutes.

  “This is one reason I never
let guys spend the night.”

  “Never?”

  “No. I’m careful no one is ever around to…see me like this.”

  “You’ve been reliving this for what…? Ten years? Longer? When did it happen?”

  “First time, I was thirteen.”

  Reese sucked in a breath. A child, she’d been nothing more than a child. He wanted to hit something, preferably the bastard who’d touched her. But that wouldn’t do either one of them any good tonight.

  Instead, he gritted his teeth. “And you never told Kit and Baylee.” It wasn’t a question.

  “No.” She thought she saw disappointment on his face and tried to explain. “Look, the first time I was so ashamed. I thought they might no longer want to be friends if they found out.” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to take the chance.”

  “You know differently now though.”

  “Yes, but back then I was still awed by the fact that they were my friends. They were the only two people in the world that really mattered to me. I didn’t want them to…to be disappointed in me or embarrassed for me.”

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he was tempted to move closer, wrap her up, but judging by the look on her face, she needed some space and some room to breathe. Finally giving up the secret she’d been holding back for so long had to cost her dearly in terms of emotions.

  It wasn’t lost on Reese that to share what had happened showed a remarkable sign of trust on her part. Even if she wasn’t fully aware of it now, he was.

  “And the second time?”

  “The second time, I was a little stronger, a little bigger, and bloodied his nose. I was three weeks shy of my sixteenth birthday. I got out of there that night, packed up some clothes and spent two weeks living in the cabana house over at Baylee’s until I got a job in a coffee house and found my own place to live with some money I’d been squirreling away for emergencies.”

  “Baylee and Kit didn’t ask a bunch of questions or want to know details of why you chose then to finally bolt and get out of there?” Knowing those two women, he couldn’t imagine that they wouldn’t want to know every aspect, every detail.