Passion In The First Degree

by Carla Cassidy

  His skin smelled of wildness, of sweet clean winds and hot endless nights. Shelby fought a sudden, crazy impulse to flick out her tongue and taste him, lick his chest and swallow the flavor of him. For years the events of that night so long ago had melded together in her head, making it difficult for her to separate the emotional shock of seeing a murder and the momentous event of making love to Billy.

  Now, with the two events separated in her mind, she was able to remember the splendor of Billy taking her, possessing her, and she realized he’d been right when he’d said he would have her again. She wanted him again, somehow felt she needed to make love with him again and bring things full circle.

  Only this time she wouldn’t be a starry-eyed youth expecting love forever more. She was a grown woman, willing to accept that she wanted Billy, desired him on a physical level, needed to make love to him one last time to banish the power of the memories of that first time.

  Her hands knew the way of her mind and slid across the broad expanse of his chest. At the same time she pressed her lips against his skin, giving in to her need to taste him. She felt his immediate response, a tightening of his muscles as the pace of his heartbeat accelerated.

  “Shelby.” It was a warning, his voice low and husky.

  She knew he was giving her a chance to think…to stop what she was starting. She didn’t want to stop. Again she moved her lips against his bronzed chest, tasting the slight saltiness of his skin.

  “Shelby.” This time it wasn’t a warning, but rather a whispered, deep-throated moan. His hands, which moments before had been caressing to comfort, now moved differently—slower, languid and sensual.

  She raised her head, her gaze meeting his, wondering if her eyes reflected the same kind of want, of need that his did. She’d thought it impossible that she’d ever want to make love to him again. Now she realized it was impossible not to. He’d been under her skin for twelve long years, like a chigger burrowing deeper and deeper. Surely as a woman making love to Billy she could finally put the act, the passion in its proper perspective rather than building it to bigger-than-life proportions as she had so many years before.

  His eyes flamed into hers, smoldering promises of passion as his lips descended to claim hers in a kiss of fire. It was not a kiss to tantalize or cajole, but rather one to possess and consume.

  Shelby returned the kiss fully, this time not afraid of his hunger but rather reveling in it, a responding hunger throbbing inside her. As the kiss ended, once again her gaze sought his. “Billy, make love to me,” she said softly. It was important that this be her decision, a conscious choice, rather than an uncontrollable explosion as it had been before, where she felt she’d had no will.

  If possible, his eyes appeared to darken at her request. “Are you sure, Shelby?” He trailed a finger down her cheek, following the curve of her jaw. “From what you’ve told me about the night of Mama Royce’s death, you came here seeking comfort and instead got me. You came here tonight to share your memories with me. I don’t want you to be confused about what you want. What we did years ago was a mistake, two kids lost in their grief reaching out to each other in a way neither of us knew how to handle. I don’t want this to be a mistake.”

  Shelby frowned, knowing he was right. Making love to him years ago had been a mistake, an experience neither of them had anticipated or completely understood. She’d come to him then, needing him to banish her fear, bury her memories of something heinous. But now the horror was separate from the desire and she knew exactly what she wanted. “Billy, it’s not a mistake.”

  Eyes still darkened, features unreadable, he stood. “Not here,” he said, and bent over and scooped her up in his arms. “I want you in my room. I told you the next time I have you will be in my bed.”

  Heat suffused her as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips against the shadowed hollow of his neck. There was a sense of lightness, an inevitability, as if in her heart she had known from the moment she’d heard his voice on her phone that this was what was destined to happen between them.

  In all the years she’d visited the shanty, she’d never been in Billy’s room. It had been his private space, a sanctuary even Mama Royce had respected. As he carried her across the threshold, she had a vague impression of stark masculinity. Like Parker’s room, this one held a dresser and a bed, only the bed was a double one covered in navy blue sheets. A low-wattage lamp sat on the nightstand, the glow softening the starkness of the room. A four-blade ceiling fan stirred the warm air.

  As he placed her in the center of the bed, she realized the sheets smelled of him, the wonderful, mysterious scent she found so intoxicating. He didn’t join her, but rather stood at the side of the bed, his gaze as potent as a caress.

  “Billy?” She raised her arms toward him, beckoning him to come to her.

  He shook his head. “Just let me look at you for a minute,” he said, his voice deep, husky with desire.

  Shelby had never known the power of a gaze, but as Billy’s lingered on her, she felt her body responding. Muscles weakened, nerves tingled and heat coiled within her.

  “Shelby, you are so beautiful.” He leaned over and touched her lips with his. This kiss was different than any she’d shared with him before. Soft and tender, his lips made love to hers, and when he finished with her mouth, he moved to her ear, then down her jawline, evoking fire where he touched.

  As his mouth caressed her, his fingers worked the buttons on her blouse, stopping only when the last one had been unfastened. At that moment Shelby realized there would be no violent eruption of passion this time. He intended to take the time to seduce her slowly…completely. This thought sent a shiver of anticipation rippling through her.

  It seemed it took him forever to remove her clothing. Each inch of skin that was bared immediately was covered by his mouth and hands. By the time he removed his jeans and joined her on the bed, Shelby was at a fever pitch. Never had she felt so alive. Never had she wanted a man more. But when he moved to position himself above her, she shook her head and pushed him aside. “Not yet,” she said, wanting to kiss him, caress him, drive him insane as he had just done to her.

  Shelby pushed him down on his back, then explored his body in awe. Sleek muscle beneath warm skin, a broad chest covered with soft hair, his strength and masculinity sent her own desire winging higher as she touched, caressed and kissed him.

  With a low, deep groan, he rolled her over on her back, hovering above her for a single second before sinking slowly into her. Shelby wrapped her legs around him, wanting to keep him locked inside her forever. Tears filled her eyes as she felt his heart beating the same frantic rhythm as her own. As he moved against her, her breaths quickened, matching his as he took her spiraling out of control.

  Afterward they sprawled side by side on the bed, the ceiling fan cooling their heated bodies as their breathing slowly returned to normal.

  “If you say I told you so, I’ll slap you,” Shelby said, turning on her side to gaze at him.

  His lips curled up in a sexy smile that sent a shiver of delight dancing through her. “I won’t say I told you so because I wasn’t sure this would happen again.”

  She propped herself up on her elbow and stared at him in surprise. “You certainly acted sure. In fact, you were quite arrogant on the subject.”

  His grin widened. “Ah, there you go again, Shelby, turning my head with all your sweet talk.”

  “That’s one thing different this time from the last time,” she said thoughtfully.

  His smile fell away. “What?”

  “This time I won’t make the mistake of confusing sex and love.” For just a moment Shelby felt a swift arrow through her heart as she remembered the innocent she had been when she and Billy had first made love.

  Billy reached out and caressed her face then cupped her chin with his hand. “I didn’t handle things very well that night.” He remembered at the time he had needed to distance himself from her, make her understand he could
never be anything in her life.

  She was a Longsford and he was swamp scum. And if he had any notion that any relationship could grow between them all he had to do was remember Tyler, cold in his grave. Swamp and town didn’t mix, at least not in Black Bayou. He moved his hand away from her face, realizing that touching her rekindled a flame inside him.

  “We were children, Billy, both of us grieving for a woman we loved.” She placed a hand on his chest, her fingers twirling strands of hair. “I was angry with you for a long time after that night. I felt as if you’d taken something from me, but now I realize my bad feelings had nothing to do with what happened between us.” She sighed, her expression troubled. “Every time I thought about that night, I’d get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and I blamed that on you. Now I know it wasn’t you at all, it was repressed memories of what I saw in the swamp.” She shivered, her eyes taking on a haunted glaze.

  Unable to help himself, Billy pulled her into his arms, wishing he could erase that night of horror from her mind, take her back to the innocence she’d once possessed. As she nestled against him, her cheek against his chest, he felt an odd surge of guilt. “I used you to ease my grief the night Mama Royce died.”

  She raised her head and smiled at him. “And I used you to hide in, to escape from what I’d seen earlier. We’re even, Billy.” She pressed her lips against his neck and his response was immediate. He wanted her again.

  This time there was little foreplay. She was as ready as he and arched against him with an abandoned splendor that stole his breath from him. It was madness, sheer madness to want her so, and the fact that she was a willing participant in the madness only increased his hunger.

  Later, sated momentarily once again, he held her against him as she slept. Her body curved against his in complete trust and he felt a flare of protectiveness that tightened his arms around her.

  Since the time he’d met her so many years before, Shelby Longsford had held his fascination like no other person. She’d been the fairy princess living in the castle, and as a youth he’d never been able to understand what drove her out of the castle and into the swamp.

  It was only as he had grown older that he’d realized he’d been far more wealthy than her in areas unrelated to power and money. Mama Royce had been Billy’s wealth, one he’d shared with the little princess. Secretly it had filled Billy with pride, that despite her family’s wealth, her beautiful home and expensive toys, he’d had something she didn’t, he had something she needed.

  He was glad he’d shared Mama Royce with her, knew the connection with his grandmother had helped mold and shape the woman Shelby had become. He hoped some of Mama Royce’s inner strength had been passed on to Shelby. He had a feeling before this was all over, she was going to need every ounce of inner strength she could find.

  SHELBY AWOKE SUDDENLY, unsure what had pulled her from sleep. A whisper of light seeped in through the window, letting her know dawn was just starting to break. Billy slept next to her, his body warmly surrounding her. For a moment she didn’t move, merely savoring the feel of him so close to her.

  She shifted her position, turning so she could see him as he slept. Even in sleep there seemed to be a tensed wariness about him. No hint of vulnerability softened his features. Such a solitary man. A man who kept his feelings secret, shared his soul with nobody. If she hadn’t seen him with Mama Royce years ago, and more recently with Parker, she would have easily believed Jonathon LaJune’s assessment that Billy didn’t know how to love.

  Frowning, she eased away from him. She had to get home. Besides, it was sheer foolishness to be fantasizing about love and Billy. She’d made that mistake once. She would never make it again. What she and Billy shared was a curious physical attraction, a strong chemical pull that was based on lust. She’d finish this case, then go on with her life, and she’d have two memories of making love to Billy, pleasant memories to warm a cold wintry night. She grabbed her clothes from the floor and dressed, her back turned toward the bed.

  “You aren’t thinking of sneaking out of here, are you?”

  She whirled around and finished buttoning her blouse. “I’ve got to get home.”

  He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, his smile as sexy in the purple of dawn as it had been in the shadows of the night. “Why not stay and I’ll make us some breakfast…after.”

  Despite the intimacies they had already shared, a blush warmed Shelby’s face. “I really should get home before everyone is awake at the house.”

  The smile died quickly. He stood and reached for his jeans. “I’ll walk you back.”

  “That’s not necessary,” she protested.

  “Don’t be a fool. There’s a murderer loose in the swamp and it’s not even light yet.” He pulled up his jeans and zipped them. “I’ll walk you back,” he repeated in a tone that brooked no argument.

  They walked through the swamp toward the mansion in silence. Shelby didn’t know what had caused the sudden tension that rolled off him, and so didn’t know how to ease it. They didn’t speak until they reached the manicured grass of the Longsford lawn.

  Shelby turned to him, unsure what to say, hating that he always managed to keep her off-balance. “Thanks for walking me back,” she finally said.

  He bowed. “The lovely princess is successfully led through the evil forest by the troll. All is well in the kingdom.” His mocking smile fell away and he leaned forward and cupped Shelby’s face in his hands. “Shelby, you remembered the look on Layne Rocharee’s face when he died. That means you were close enough to see the face of the monster who murdered him.” He tapped the side of her head with his index finger. “The answers to everything are in there. You have the key to my exoneration buried in your memories. That makes you vitally important to me, and a genuine threat to the murderer.” He kissed her forehead, then turned and, making no sound, disappeared into the swamp.

  She lingered for a moment at the edge of the copse, his parting words upsetting her. Was the answer to all the murders trapped in her mind? And how much of Billy’s desire was a result of that fact? She was his hope for acquittal and that meant she was a danger to somebody else.

  With a troubled sigh she walked to the house and up on the porch. She jumped as she realized somebody was sitting in the rocking chair. “Mama? What are you doing out here?”

  Clad in a nightgown, without her customary makeup, Celia looked older than her years. “I couldn’t sleep. I often have bouts of insomnia.” She gazed at Shelby, her blue eyes clear and sharp. “I saw you coming out of the swamp with that man. I hope you aren’t getting in too deep with him, doing things to shame our family. The busybodies in this town would never stop talking if they could see you now.”

  Shelby sighed wearily. “Mama, I’m a big girl. I know what I’m doing and I don’t care about the busybodies.”

  “Are you so sure Billy Royce is innocent in Tyler’s and Fayrene’s murders?” Celia’s chair creaked as she rocked forward. “There’s been stories about his father and mother and their deaths. They say blood will tell.”

  “Billy isn’t guilty. He’s simply not capable of that kind of crime.”

  Celia smiled and shook her head. “Shelby, no matter how well you think you know a man, you can never be sure you know his heart’s darkness, his secret passions.” She smiled again. “Men are a strange breed, darling girl.” With another creak of the rocker, Celia stood. “I think I can sleep now.” She started for the door, then paused and turned back to Shelby. “Make sure you shower before breakfast to get the smell of the swamp off you. You know how your father is, and I don’t want to start the day off with him in one of his moods.”

  Shelby nodded, and her mother left the porch and disappeared into the house. Yes, she knew how her father was, and that’s what frightened her. If what she suspected was true, she had seen the swamp serpent and had been so traumatized she’d repressed the memory. Seeing a murder was frightening, but seeing a murder being committed by somebody she k
new would be horrifying enough to drive the memory away. She knew that’s what had happened. She had seen the face of the monster, and it had been familiar… so familiar she had repressed it, unable to withstand the damage to her psyche. Somehow she had to retrieve that memory and hope that while she had been looking at the murderer, the murderer hadn’t been looking at her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Bob! Wait up.” Shelby ran down the sidewalk toward the sheriff, who stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. “I was just going to the station to find you,” she said, pausing a moment to catch her breath.

  “I was on my way to Martha’s. Why don’t you let me buy you some lunch?”

  Shelby hesitated, aware that Bob’s lunch offer was prompted by feelings less than professional. “We’ll go dutch,” she said, aware he got the message by the look of disappointment that crossed his face.

  “How’s the shoulder?” Bob asked as they walked toward the popular eating establishment.

  “Healing nicely, although still a little stiff.” She murmured her thanks as he opened the door to the restaurant and ushered her inside.

  As usual at the noon hour, Martha’s was packed with people on their lunch breaks. Three-piece suiters ate next to blue-collar workers, their chatter and clinking dinnerware creating a din. Martha waved to them as she rang up a customer at the cash register. Bob led Shelby to a just-emptied table in the center of the room. “So, why were you on your way to the station to find me?” he asked as they settled in their chairs across from one another.

  “I was wondering if there were autopsy and other reports from all of the swamp serpent murders and if I could get copies of everything you have on them.”

  He looked at her in surprise. “Why would you want to have them? Surely they can’t have a bearing on Billy’s case.”

  Shelby shrugged, unwilling to say too much. “Until Billy is proclaimed innocent, everything has a bearing on his case.”

  They paused in their conversation when the waitress came to their table. Shelby ordered a salad and Bob got the daily special of Cajun chicken. When the waitress had departed, Bob looked at Shelby thoughtfully. “You’ve found something that ties Fayrene and Tyler to the swamp serpent, haven’t you?”