Songbird's Call

by Herron, Rachael

  She felt his cock bulge against her pussy, protected only by the thin black fabric. She pressed back, tilting her pelvis so that he choked, groaning against her ear. “You don’t mind if I make noise?”

  Colin thrust himself forward, sounding like he agreed. “Jesus, Molly. What are you doing to me?”

  “Do you – please tell me you have a condom.”

  He reached sideways into the nightstand drawer. He ripped off the wrapper and rolled the condom on. Molly tried to help but found that her fine motor skills seemed to be affected by the nerves shooting through her body.

  When it was on, Colin moved to lie on his side. His hand cupped her cheek. “Are you sure? Because we can still stop.”

  “Very polite of you to ask.” Molly kissed him, hard. He tasted of salt and heat. Then she put both hands against his chest and rolled him onto his back on the enormous bed. In a motion that felt practically acrobatic, she slung off the panties at the same time as she straddled him. “But I don’t feel like stopping. Even out of pity, you big brute.”

  She took him into herself, fully, in one long stroke.

  Colin gave a shout and grabbed for her hips, pulling her deeper. Molly took a breath and dropped her forehead to his chest. “Just let me feel you for a second,” she said. “Please.”

  He stilled, and she could feel his cock getting even bigger – hotter – inside her. “Molly,” he said, the word sounding tight.

  She lifted her head and met his gaze.

  His eyes were black heat, and he searched her face. What was he looking for? Was he checking to see if she was okay?

  Because she was better than okay. She felt like she could have flown if she’d wanted to, but she didn’t want to – she just wanted this. Him inside her.

  “You’re incredible. I want to just look at you for the next ten years, is that okay?”

  Was it okay? Hell, yes. It was okay.

  She moved.

  Slowly at first. Her hips rocked slightly, and she pushed him deeper inside her.

  Then she rocked a little higher. His hands stayed on her hips, but he let her set the rhythm. She was so wet, so slick, and he was so hard – she felt powerful and gorgeous, and most of all, strong. Colin bit his lower lip, and sweat beaded at his hairline. His gaze intensified as his eyes narrowed, still focused on her, only on her. He was trying so hard to control himself, she could tell, and that made it hotter and sweeter.

  More now, more. She moved faster, pulling off him until she was right to the very edge of him, and then she slammed her hips forward, taking him again in one hard plunge. Colin’s hips lifted, rocking with her every move. She was in charge of the pace, but he met each thrust with force, and she knew she couldn’t take much more of him – he was deeper in her than any man had ever been, and she’d never felt this before – that with every thrust he pushed more air out of her lungs, and what if she died of having no breath by the end, and she didn’t care – she didn’t want anything in the whole world except this man, under her, inside her, so far inside that she didn’t know where she ended and he began. The orgasm curled inside her body, and pushing her clit against his pubic bone, hard and then harder, stroking herself more with every thrust, her pussy tightened until she wondered in an abstract way if she could actually hurt him by being too tight, and then everything that had been tight inside her exploded, and she came with a roar that she didn’t recognize as her own until she realized his voice had joined hers and they were both coming, both bursting into flame together, which made the fire blaze higher and she couldn’t breathe until he kissed her and then she could pull oxygen again from the air instead of where she’d been getting it – from him, from him, from Colin.

  She fell forward, pressing her face into the space between his neck and the pillow, inhaling their commingled scent. Her heart was beating so fast she was surprised it didn’t just stop in protest.

  Jesus.

  What had this guy done to her?

  Colin’s arms tightened around her, and she rose with him as his chest lifted with each breath.

  She closed her eyes, squinching them hard, trying to remember who she was when she had clothes on, when she wasn’t in this man’s arms, when she didn’t feel as amazing as she did right now.

  Molly felt invincible. She was stronger, braver, better than she’d ever been, and his arms around her made her even more indomitable. Strength tingled in her fingertips, running through her veins like a river.

  She lifted her face and grinned at him. “Now, that was a pity fuck.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  She was gone in the morning.

  That was the crazy thing.

  Colin had gone to sleep holding her tight. Usually he didn’t like to sleep right up next to someone, but her body had been just right (God, in so many ways) and they’d fit each other. He’d wrapped himself around her after they’d laughed for what felt like an hour, and she’d given this deep, full-body sigh.

  “You have to stay here,” he’d said.

  “I do?”

  “You have to stay right here in my arms. Right where you are.” He’d kissed the side of her head.

  “Hmmph. Is that an order?” Her voice had sounded tight, suddenly.

  He’d made his words lighter. “It’s the law. You can’t do anything but stay here and sleep well.”

  “And what if I don’t? You’ll arrest me?”

  Colin had nodded slowly. “Yep. You’re doomed unless you do as I say.”

  She’d moved position so that she was resting on his shoulder, and he’d kissed her forehead. She’d made the cutest snerfling noise, and then she’d wriggled against him, pressing harder into his body. The last thing he remembered was wondering if she took cream in her coffee and if he had bacon to go with the eggs he’d fix her in the morning.

  Then he’d woken up to an empty bed.

  Colin had always been a light sleeper, and it had gotten worse with his job. So many years of working nights meant that even now that he didn’t have to work dogwatch, he still usually woke at any small noise. Hyper-vigilance was a bitch. He’d had a cat for years – Sammy Joe, he still missed her grumpy yowls – and just the sound of the cat leaping off his bed to the hardwood floor used to wake him. That tiny click of nails had been enough to jolt him awake.

  But Molly getting up, putting on her clothes and leaving, that hadn’t stirred him.

  And where had she gone? He checked every room, not that he had many in the small house. He checked each deck – he used to date a woman who liked to meditate naked out there (it had been her best trait).

  The decks were all empty.

  Molly didn’t have a car. Had she taken his from where they’d left it, at the overlook above the folly? That would be fine, if she’d needed it. He had a spare truck he used to transport building supplies. But she should have asked, if only to keep him from worrying.

  Without even taking the time to shower, he pulled on last night’s clothes. He remembered the feeling of her fingers at his fly. Just find her. There was no time to fantasize about the goddess who had ended up in his bed last night. Better to find that goddess and make sure she was okay.

  In the old pickup, he drove to the outlook. The Chevelle was still there.

  Damn it.

  Now he was worried.

  A woman left a man’s bed without saying goodbye if she had to get home to someone else or if she didn’t really want to be there in the first place.

  Colin was pretty damn sure she didn’t have a man in town, though he couldn’t be positive, of course. She’d been back more than six weeks. That was long enough to form attachments. Something spiny sprouted thorns in his chest. What if she was dating someone else? He held the steering wheel so tightly his fingers cramped.

  Surely he couldn’t be jealous. He’d always thought it was the weakest of all emotions. No point to it, just a waste of time and energy.

  Unless you were thinking about Molly Darling kissing someone else.

  T
hat kind of jealousy might be stupid but it wasn’t a waste. No, it was spurring him on, making his foot press harder on the accelerator.

  He sped into town, watching the sides of the road carefully. Why didn’t he have her damn cell-phone number? He called the Golden Spike but no one answered, which was just as well. What would he have said to Nate if he’d picked up? Hey, I slept with your girlfriend’s sister, and now I can’t find her. That wouldn’t fly, no way in hell.

  He called Nikki next, keeping his phone low in his lap, putting it on speaker – if any of his constituents saw him using a phone as he drove, he’d get voted right out. Citizens nowadays tended to like a sheriff who followed both the letter and the spirit of the law.

  “Hey. Have you seen Molly this morning?”

  “Molly?”

  “You know the one.” Colin palmed the wheel and took the corner smoothly. “I’m worried.”

  “You’re worried about Molly? The person you’ve barely spoken to since she hired me? What am I missing? Were you on a date and she pulled a runner?”

  Colin didn’t say anything. He considered hanging up. He’d check Molly’s hotel room next, but it wasn’t like he’d have any way of verifying if she was inside or not, not unless he clued Adele in. Freaking sisters.

  “You were? I was kidding.”

  “Never mind.”

  “Did she stay the night with you or something?”

  It was too embarrassing to even answer.

  He heard his sister laugh uproariously. “And now she’s in the wind? What did you do? You’ve always snored, but has it really gotten so bad that you’d chase away a perfectly nice girl?”

  “Forget it. She probably just went on a walk.” What if that was it? What if she’d walked down the cliff to the folly? He hadn’t actually looked down there. “You working at the café today?”

  “You suddenly the employment police? No, wait. You’ve always been that.”

  “Whatever. Just text me if you see her.”

  “Oh, I see. You’re the Molly police.”

  “And you’re annoying.” He hung up to the sound of her laughter.

  God. What if Molly had fallen from the cliff’s edge?

  He had a sudden image of her, standing at the edge where they’d stood together, her dark hair blowing back, her chin up as she smelled the air. Then in his mind’s eye, she toppled, falling, wheeling until she hit the rocks below.

  How many calls had he been on like that in his career? Seven? Eight? The worst had been a young German tourist. His blond hair had turned red, and his new wife had been hysterical. He’d never forgotten that, the idea that somewhere in Germany there was a woman who associated Northern California with unbearable tragedy, not a happy honeymoon.

  He was almost at the café. One quick check, and he’d find out if she’d made it home. Even if he had to jimmy the lock on her door himself.

  This was not good. After a man got laid as spectacularly as he had, he should have a grin stuck on his face for at least the next forty-eight hours. He shouldn’t have this sinking feeling.

  But then he saw her.

  In front of the grocery store, there she was, just walking. All in one perfect piece. She was wearing a different shirt – a red button-down plaid shirt that made her look like a cowgirl – and a denim skirt. Cowboy boots. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and it still looked wet. She’d had time to shower, then, and get herself looking cute as hell. The relief that she wasn’t smashed on the rocks next to the folly was strong, as strong as the physical urge to yank the truck over and park badly, diagonal to the curb, which he did. His own parking enforcement – Polly White took her job exceedingly seriously – wouldn’t let him get away with this if he was caught. She’d write the sheriff a ticket without thinking twice. But he didn’t give a crap.

  Colin placed himself in Molly’s walking path. She had her head down and was looking at her phone.

  “Hey.”

  She looked up, appearing startled. “Hey, yourself.”

  “Coffee, huh?” He knew he didn’t sound friendly as he gestured to her coffee cup, and he didn’t care. What she’d done was rude. Discourteous. And Jesus, he didn’t know how worried he’d been until he saw her looking as pretty as a daisy and just as unconcerned.

  “I usually get it from Nate at the bar, but there was no one around, and I was feeling lazy. The market coffee is pretty good, it turns out. You’d think with the three coffee makers I put in a café, I could use one of those, but I’m reluctant to get a single stain on anything before we open. Silly, huh?”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Back to town.” She looked down at her body as if to check that she was where she thought she was. “Right here.”

  Colin straightened, and if he had been on the job, this was where he would put a hand on his hip, just resting on the butt of his gun, never a threat, only a reminder. “And how did you get back to town?”

  Molly frowned. “Didn’t you get my note?”

  “Seeing as how I have all these questions, I’d go with no.” Lord, he sounded like an ass.

  “I left it on the counter in the kitchen. In front of, ironically, the coffee maker. I thought for sure that would be the first place you’d look.”

  Funny. The first place he’d looked was in his own bed. “Didn’t see it. And you haven’t answered my question of how you got back here.”

  Her frown got deeper. “Am I being interrogated?”

  “I’d appreciate it if you just answered the question.”

  “Fine. I grabbed a ride.”

  “As in, you hitchhiked?” Irritation rankled. She didn’t have to check with him first. She owed him nothing. He had no right to be irritated about a damn thing, and yet he was.

  “Thumb out and everything. I haven’t done that in years. My sisters and I used to hike down Mount Millson and hitch back up to the car when we were done, and it always felt like we were an inch away from getting murdered. But a hundred per cent of the time, the people who picked us up were nice. Just like this morning! I met a guy who’s a strawberry farmer in the spring and a beach bum in Hawaii in the fall.”

  Colin had a whole string of new images in his mind, and he didn’t like any of them. Molly dead in all manner of ways, stabbing, gunshot. He’d seen too many awful ways of dying. “Well, that was stupid.”

  “Thanks.” Molly’s bright expression vanished, and it didn’t look in danger of coming back anytime soon. “That’s always what a girl wants to hear from the guy whose bed she recently climbed out of.”

  “I was worried.”

  “So you get to say what I do? How many hitchhikers have been killed in your county, anyway? More than ten?”

  He kept his mouth closed tightly.

  “That many, huh?”

  “Yeah, well, you got lucky.”

  Molly took a long sip of her coffee while considering him. Colin had the distinct feeling he was coming up short, and that was a feeling he really didn’t like.

  “No,” she finally said. “You got lucky.”

  He snorted. He couldn’t help it. “I did. You’re right. That I did. Why didn’t you just wake me?”

  Her thumb played with the plastic top of the coffee cup. “I don’t know. You were sleeping so peacefully, and I didn’t want to disturb you. I couldn’t sleep, and then I got to thinking about the thermometer for the walk-in, and I just wanted to get back to work.”

  “Yep, that’s what all the girls say.”

  She laughed, and Colin felt like the sun had come out, even though it was still hiding in the fog. “Come out to breakfast with me.”

  “No, thanks. I really do have work to do.”

  “Just put it off.”

  “I’m good.”

  Why the hell was it so important that she do what he wanted? Colin was annoyed at himself, and if their places were reversed, he’d blow himself off, too. But he couldn’t stop pushing. One more time. “You have to eat.” He tried to soften it. “Right?”<
br />
  “You know, I’ve got this pretty human trait of not wanting to do anything I’m told I have to do.” Any trace of humor was gone completely from her voice. “So I’ll see you later.”

  Colin stepped out of her path as she moved forward resolutely. The way she said see you later could have easily been substituted with fuck off.

  And he deserved it.

  He watched the prettiest girl in town unlock the front door of the café and let herself in.

  He was a complete and utter idiot.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Molly got three steps into the café before her knees started shaking. She went behind the counter, set down her coffee cup carefully, and pressed her hands flat against the wood.

  Big talk. That’s all it was. Bravado.

  Had she wanted to have breakfast with him? Of course. She wanted to go get bagels with him. She wanted to find out if he preferred regular or fluffy cream cheese. (It had to be regular, right?)

  Had she wanted to stay in bed with him? Of course she had. He’d pulled her into his arms, spooning her perfectly, his heat exactly right to keep her warm, the feeling of his breath in her hair making her want to stay there for the next thirty or forty years.

  And then he’d told her to stay.

  Which was exactly why she had run.

  Darling Bay, if she were to make a real go of this, was a place she had to stand on her own two feet. She’d been trying for so long to get her life right, screwing it up over and over again. When she was in the band, every move she’d made had been carefully ordered by her father or Adele. After the band broke up, her boyfriend at the time, a class-A jerk, had insisted that she joined the gym with him to get in shape. He’d signed her up for nutrition class. When she’d expressed interest in the topic, he’d talked her into going to school. And when she’d graduated with her degree, he’d dumped her for a Pilates instructor who had boobs the size and shape of Texas grapefruits. Her next boyfriend took her on her first cruise where she’d been delighted to chat with the onboard nutritionist (and then to cry on her shoulder when she caught her boyfriend in their stateroom with a redhead from Argentina). Rick, Molly’s last boyfriend, the one who took all her money in the protein-shake scheme, had been the worst. Drunks were said to have to hit bottom before coming up, and Rick had been her lowest point. She’d let a man make her think she was worth nothing. He’d said terrible things to her, and she’d believed them.