Weddings Can Be Murder

by Christie Craig

  He stepped out of his pants, and they went flying through the air. The khakis landed right on top of her light blue denims. And something about the pile of clothes heaped together, as if they belonged together, made warmth fill her chest.

  She looked back at him wearing only his boxers. Remembering what he’d done to her, she motioned for him to turn.

  Not blinking an eye, he began a slow circle. “Meet your expectations?” he asked at half turn.

  She inhaled as her gaze followed the contours of his tight butt, and when he came around, she noticed the size of the bulge had grown behind the soft cotton material.

  She blinked. “You’ll do.”

  “Ouch. Now that was uncalled for.” He grabbed for her.

  She held up a hand. “The dishes aren’t done.”

  His tongue passed over his mouth, reminding her: And I want to taste you here. The ache between her legs grew. She yearned to be touched. And yes, to be tasted. She almost gave in, called the game over, when the sound of a door being opened and then closed chased all the wonderful, sexual bliss right out the window.

  The dogs barked.

  “Son? I brought your cameras back. Caught ol’ man Johnson doing exactly what his wife thought he was doing.”

  Carl wearing only boxers and a hard-on, tore out of the kitchen. “Got some good shots, too,” Carl’s dad said.

  “Stop right there!” Carl’s voice boomed.

  Joe offered Les another beer, but she turned it down. He knew she would. Twice in the last ten minutes he’d seen her reach to her chest to touch the ring. He’d love to personally remove that damn chain, but he didn’t dare. Frankly, he was surprised she’d even agreed to come over here to night. Almost as surprised as he was at himself for going over to her house today.

  Honestly, what were the chances of something actually working out here? His situation reeked of rebound. People would talk and accusations would fly. Never mind that he hadn’t loved Katie in the right way.

  And Les’s situation—well, it was just a damn waste that she preferred to hang on to the dead man than live in the present.

  She looked up, and he knew her words before she said them. “I should be going.”

  He nodded. “I understand.” No, he didn’t understand, but it wasn’t his place to question it, either. Well, at least not again. He’d had his say today in Les’s kitchen.

  She stood and gazed down at her dress. When she looked up, she smiled. And damn if her smile didn’t reach down into his gut and pull out a wad of courage. Screw the odds against them. Screw what people would think.

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

  “Tomorrow?” she asked.

  “To return the gifts. I just assumed you’d help me.”

  She blinked, indecision played in her eyes. “I guess I can.”

  He grinned. “I can’t wait to see what you wear.”

  Her smile widened. “I promise, I’ll dress normal.”

  Their gaze held—one of those moments that usually led to someplace better. Then she touched that damn ring.

  “Does that mean you won’t wear a dead man’s ring around your neck? Because that ring offends me a lot more than that damn ugly dress.” He hadn’t meant to say it—or maybe he had.

  Her green eyes shot fire at him. He almost apologized, but he realized maybe this was what Les needed, needed to get mad, needed for someone to force her to see the obvious.

  Her chin shot up. “How dare you judge me when you and Katie are the fuckedup ones. I mean, look at this. You’re coming on to me, and Katie’s off sleeping with some PI she just met.”

  “Katie’s doing what?” He took a second to digest what Les had said, and another second to realize it didn’t hurt near as much as it should have. Heck, it hardly hurt at all. “At least we’re living, Les. At least we’re not afraid—”

  “I’m not afraid.” Tears, angry tears, filled her eyes.

  “Prove it. Take the ring off. Take it off right now. Or let me take it off.” He went to pull the necklace when—

  She slapped him. His cheek stung like hell. Joe touched his face, not sure what shocked him more: her hitting him or his instant hard-on.

  Jeezus! Where the hell did this little perverted side of him pipe up from? Maybe it was just left over from their naked bathroom struggle. Maybe it was because one of her pumpkins, the one over her right breast, kept winking at him. He met her gaze. “Do you feel better?”

  “No!” She slapped him again. “Why did you have to be at that bar?”

  He had a real woody going on right now.

  She raised her hand as if to hit him again. “You flirted with me. You rubbed the back of my hand with your thumb.”

  Her palm came at him. He caught her wrist. “If you hit me again, I’m going to kiss you, and it probably won’t stop with a kiss. I’m not joking,” he warned. “As fuckedup as this sounds, I’m totally turned on by a girl wearing a pumpkin tablecloth and slapping the shit out of me.”

  He let her go, praying she’d do it, praying she’d test him.

  She did.

  Her hand struck, stung like hell, and he had her in his arms before her palm left his cheek. He backed her up against the wall and kissed her. It was a hot, opened-mouthed kind of kiss. The kind that didn’t stop with just lips and tongue. And thank God, he wasn’t the only one participating. They were going down. And fast. His dick got harder.

  Before he knew what was happening, Les had her hands inside his shirt, yanking at his belt and then his pants. When she slung his belt across the room, he grabbed the hem of her hideously ugly dress and pulled it over her head.

  She stood there, breathing hard, wearing the red underwear he’d seen on Katie’s bed. He wanted to look, but she slammed him back against the wall and started kissing him again.

  Then came the voice, telling him this was wrong. He might have listened, too, if Les hadn’t slipped her hand in his pants.

  Lost in the feel of her hand sliding over his cock, he unhooked her bra and the flimsy fabric dropped between them. Stepping out of his jeans, now pushed around his ankles, he walked her to the sofa where he fell on top of her. He held her wrists and she ground her pelvis against his dick. Pulling those pink nipples into his mouth, he tasted heaven. Then he felt the ring burrowing a hole in his chest.

  He started to pull the damn thing off himself, but he knew he couldn’t do that. She had to do it. It had to be her choice.

  Or could he ignore it?

  He couldn’t ignore it. He shot off the sofa. “Take it off, Les. Take the ring off.”

  She looked at him, so damn sexy, and he wanted her, wanted to yank those red panties off and…He couldn’t.

  “Take it off,” he said through gritted teeth. “Take it off, or get your tablecloth back on and leave.”

  Katie’s gaze searched for anything to use as cover. She eyed the heap of clothes in the dining room, but didn’t know if she could be seen if she tried to grab them. Swinging around, she pulled open the pantry door and hid behind it. Hid, as in tried to become one with the cans of pork and beans.

  “What’s wrong?” Carl’s dad’s voice echoed.

  “Not a damn thing,” Carl said. “Just go.”

  “What’s going…” His dad’s voice faded. Had he seen all the clothes on the floor?

  “Good-bye, Dad.”

  Carl’s voice reeked of frustration. Katie moved farther into the pantry. She heard a door being opened and then shut. Had Buck gone?

  Footsteps echoed. “I am so sorry,” Carl said.

  She stayed behind the pantry door, but stuck her head out.

  Carl appeared at the kitchen entrance. “He’s gone.”

  She nodded, and knew her face and probably the top half of her body were the same color as the cans of tomatoes. Another curse of being fair-skinned.

  He tilted his head to the side, as if to see around the door. “Come out, Red.” His voice didn’t hold any of the remnants of frustration he’d used on
his dad. Nope, Carl’s tone went straight back to playful. He motioned to the sink. “We got dishes to finish.”

  She worry-nipped her lip. “Did he know someone was here?”

  Humor danced in his eyes as he glanced at the front of his boxers. “He might have figured it out.”

  “Oh,” she moaned, and ducked behind the door again.

  “Red?”

  She peered at him from the side of the door. He crooked his finger at her to move away from it.

  “Do you think he knew it was me?” She would call herself a fool for playing such a stupid game, but right then, the heat in Carl’s eyes reminded her how much fun it had been.

  “Does it matter?” He motioned for her to come out again and gave her a soft, sexy smile. Then he pulled her from behind the pantry door and backed her up against the sink.

  Kissing her softly, he whispered, “Do we finish the dishes or leave them for later?” His arms came around her.

  The heat of his body met hers, the feel of his hard sex upon her belly, and she was aching to call the game over. Almost. She turned and dropped her hands in the water.

  He moved closer, dipping his hand beneath the floating suds and curling his fingers around hers. “Let me help you.” He pulled the last and only fork from the water, squirted it with the sprayer, dried it, and dropped it in the drawer. With a look of triumph lighting his brown eyes, he turned to her. “Pay up.”

  “Are you sure there’s no more dishes? Where’s your fork?” she teased, hoping to draw this out a few more minutes—just until she found her nerve. She had a hunch she’d probably left it in the pantry.

  “My fork’s already in the drawer.” He eyed her panties, then her bra. “Come on, Red.”

  Okay, she couldn’t stop now. She reached back to unhook her bra. As soon as she released it, she remembered all the things she’d have liked to change about her body. The freckles. The way her right breast seemed to be a little larger than the left. And her butt always seemed a little big.

  The bra slipped off her shoulders, caught on her nipples, whispered down her arms, then fluttered to the tile floor.

  Carl’s breath deepened as he looked at her naked breasts.

  “Do you have any idea how angry I am with myself right now?” he asked.

  The urge to cover herself hit strong. She fought it. And held her arms to her sides and let him look. “Why?”

  “I can’t begin to count the number of women I’ve turned down who offered to help with the dishes.”

  His teasing calmed her, and she grinned. “See the advantages of being metro?”

  “Well, I’m all metro now. Doing dishes. Eating quiche. Wearing pink. Two prissy dogs.” He hooked his thumbs inside the elastic band of his boxers and slid them off.

  His sex, hard, and slightly larger than she was accustomed to, bounced upward. Embarrassed by his nudity even when he wasn’t, she raised her eyes.

  “Would you like me to turn around?”

  She did, but was too abashed to say so. “That’s okay.”

  He stepped closer and pulled out the sink stopper. “Dishes are done. But we still have one article of clothing left.” His hand, still damp with dishwater, moved down her abdomen and toyed with the top of her panties. “Can I have the plea sure of removing them? Or is this against your rules?”

  All her gumption seemed to have been sucked down the drain with the water. “I think you left your fork in the living room.”

  He kissed her softly on the mouth, then knelt in front of her. His lips found her belly button. He ran a finger over the silk and lace of her panties. Then he caught the elastic of her panties, beside her crotch, and slid his finger inside. She jumped when his finger slipped between the folds of her sex.

  “You’re so wet. Lean against the counter, Red.” He looked up when she didn’t move instantly. “Now, you play by my rules.”

  She started to suggest they go to the bedroom, but something about his voice, his demanding tone, made her want to obey. He was the master. She his…sex slave. Fantasies arose. A yearning spiraled between her legs and she leaned back.

  “Spread your legs a little wider.”

  She slid her foot to the left. He pulled her panties to the side. She felt his breath on her sex. Heat rushed to her cheeks, but she stayed where she was. His finger brushed over her again, fireworks of plea sure shooting deep in her abdomen. Her knees buckled. She would have fallen if he hadn’t stood up and caught her.

  Then holding her up, his lips met hers. “Breathe, Red.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Katie inhaled. The scent of her sex lay on his mouth, so close to hers. A fire of want and need pulsed between her legs. A fire Carl Hades had started, a fire only he could put out.

  “Can we take this to the bedroom?” he asked. “Or do you have more chores for us? And believe me, sweetheart, I’m not complaining.”

  “Bedroom.” She pressed her hands to his chest and watched as her fingers moved over the hard wall of muscle. She stopped when she came to an ugly scar on his left shoulder that she hadn’t noticed until now. Meeting his eyes, she sensed the pain he must have felt. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to the angry mark.

  He leaned down and picked her up; she wrapped her legs around him, and they moved into his bedroom.

  He laid her on his bed, opened a drawer on the bedside table, and dropped some foil packages beside the lamp. Then, totally naked, totally gorgeous, he stretched out beside her.

  “What happened here?” She touched his scar.

  “Bullet,” he answered, and passed his finger over her nipple.

  “Did it hurt?” She moaned at the feel of his touch.

  “Let’s not talk about that. I need to know what I can do for you that will blow your mind, Red.”

  Feeling braver, she reached down and wrapped her hand around his long, hard shaft. “Can you think of a place this might go?”

  He pulled his hot, smooth sex from her fist. “There’s one little problem with that.”

  “Problem?”

  “Ahh, Red. The moment I’m inside you, I’m going to blow. It’s going to be as embarrassing as hell, but there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.” His touch lowered, and he slipped his fingers inside her panties. “So here’s my plan.” He passed his finger over her, and Katie raised her hips to meet his touch.

  “You’re so wet.” He slipped the panties down her legs. He leaned on his elbow to look at her. “And finally naked.”

  “What’s the plan?” she asked, wanting to feel him inside her. She brushed her fingers down his chest, and then lower. She wrapped her hand around his throbbing shaft and moved her fist up and down.

  “I can’t take it.” He pulled back and hissed. “Here’s the deal. I’m going to help you cross over, then I’m going to climb on top and come right behind you. And I can guarantee you, I’m not going to last five seconds.”

  She wasn’t sure she could last five seconds, either. “But—”

  “Let me finish. In five minutes, maybe not even that long, we’ll do it again. And then I promise, I’ll give it to you as hard and as long as you want it.”

  He kissed her, then—moist kisses that slowly moved from her lips to her breasts. He ran his tongue around her nipple, sucking, then he began traveling downward, kissing her, inch by inch.

  He kissed her stomach, her navel, and the sides of each of her thighs. Then he was between her legs. Where he’d said he really wanted to taste. Where she really wanted him to taste.

  He spread her thighs farther apart. “You’re beautiful everywhere.” He slipped one finger inside. She jutted up her hips and the plea sure that had been building all night, or maybe since she’d cuddled up on the cot with him in the dark, came in waves. Oh yes, she’d wanted this since she’d first laid eyes on him.

  His tongue moved slowly over her sex, once, twice. She shattered. And it was she who was embarrassed when she couldn’t control the moans escaping her throat.

  “Looks lik
e you enjoyed doing the dishes as much as I did.” He snatched a condom, and before she realized it, he’d positioned himself between her legs.

  He brushed her hair from her face. “Just remember, I already apologized for this.” He entered her in one hard thrust and there was a second of nothing but rightness. Him. Her.

  He moved in and then out. Her body made room for him. She waited for his next thrust and she moved with him. In. Out.

  “Wrap your legs around me!” He gritted out the words.

  She did. He pumped into her again. Deeper. The length of him stretched her, filled her to the navel. Her breath caught. Another orgasm beckoned, her hips rose, but his body hardened. The noise escaping his lips was primal. She smiled at the realization he’d been right; she hadn’t crossed over this time.

  “I’m sorry,” he ground out, and rolled them on their sides. “I knew that was going to happen.”

  “And then,” Les swiped at her tear-streaked cheeks, “he said I either had to take the necklace off or leave.”

  Les knew she should shut up, that some things weren’t meant to be shared, but if she didn’t tell someone, she would explode. “I almost took it off. I swear, I almost did it and then…” Another wave of tears flooded her eyes. “Then I jumped off the sofa, got dressed and ran out. A big part of me didn’t want to leave, but because I loved Mike…Why the fuck did he have to die?”

  Les buried her face in her hands. Then she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. She peered through her fingers at the concerned face of her listener.

  “I like my new shoes,” Mimi said, but then with the tenderness of a loving grandma, she pulled Les into her arms, and as Les cried on her grandma’s shoulder, she wondered if Mimi didn’t somehow understand more than she could communicate.

  The music clicking off woke him up. Opening his eyes, Tabitha’s killer realized his headache had faded. Now maybe he could think clearer, focus on what he needed to do.