When Leslie Anne only stared blankly at Lucie, she didn’t mince words. “You don’t want your grandfather to have a heart attack, do you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then get over there right now.”
Before Leslie Anne took more than a couple of steps, Myrle saw her and screeched. “Oh, my poor child. My poor little Leslie Anne.” Myrle came rushing toward her great-niece, her arms outstretched. “Thank the good Lord my sister never lived to see this day.”
Lucie turned quickly to Charlie. “See if you can do something with Mrs. Poole. And get her daughter to help you. Ms. Poole’s bitching isn’t helping anyone, least of all her mother.” Celia Poole was acting like a hateful bitch, which Lucie suspected the woman was.
Without a word, Charlie Sentell moved into action, effectively cutting Myrle off before she reached Leslie Anne. Lucie breathed a brief sigh of relief, then gave Leslie Anne a nudge.
“You want to be treated like an adult, now’s your chance to act like one. Put your grandfather first. Think about what this is doing to him. You’re his number one priority. Go over there and show him you can handle this, even if you have to fake it. Understand?”
“Mama should be here,” Leslie Anne said. “Has anyone called her?”
“I’ll take care of that, you just do what I told you to do. Okay?”
“Okay.” Like a windup doll, Leslie Anne walked toward her grandfather.
Lucie ducked out of the room and into a secluded nook down the hallway. She dialed her cell phone. Dom Shea answered on the second ring.
“Dom, it’s Lucie. Look, we’ve got big trouble here at the Leslie Plantation and I need backup.”
“Vic and I will—”
“No, just send Vic. I want you to get in touch with Dante and Tessa Westbrook. When I call their cell phones, I keep getting voice mail. I don’t know what’s going on with them, but they need to get back here pronto. If necessary, go to Louisiana and bring them home.”
“What’s going on?”
“It seems somebody made more than a few phone calls this afternoon,” Lucie said. “This mystery person apparently informed all of the Westbrooks’ family and friends that Tessa was raped seventeen years ago and that Leslie Anne is Eddie Jay Nealy’s daughter.”
“Good God!”
“Oh, that’s not the half of it. I’ve got a houseful of weeping, half-hysterical family members here right now, the phone is ringing off the hook and it’s only a matter of time before the local press will be beating down the front gates.”
“Should we involve the sheriff?” Dom asked.
“Not yet. Just send Vic ASAP and then hunt down Dante and Tessa.”
THE MOST exhilarating sensation swept through Tessa, as if she’d been waiting a lifetime for this moment. To be with this one man. Tessa’s body tingled. Her nipples tightened. Her femininity moistened. Had she known this kind of sexual hunger when she’d been a teenager, before her life had been changed forever by the actions of a maniac? In the years since, she’d had sex on several occasions—to prove to herself that she hadn’t been scarred for life by the rape—and she’d found those liaisons pleasant enough, but void of any real passion.
“Tessa, are you sure?” Dante asked, his black eyes raking over her with a hunger she recognized as identical to her own. “If you have any doubts—”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” She held out her hand to him. “I want us to make love.”
He took her hand, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her. First her chin, then her cheeks. His lips grazed her temples and forehead. Sweet and tender. Hesitant, but not uncertain. He caressed her neck and glided his fingertips over her shoulders and down her arms, his touch featherlight and unbearably sensual. It amazed her that such a large, powerful man could be so gentle. He handled her as if she were made of spun glass. As if she were the rarest treasure on earth.
His incredible gentleness was her undoing.
The stirring of passion within her intensified. She yearned for more than tenderness, wanting Dante’s control to crumble. “I won’t break, you know,” she whispered in his ear just as his big hands hovered over her breasts.
He groaned, the sound animalistic. And he covered her breasts with his open palms, lifted them and rubbed his thumbs across her nipples. Even through the barriers of her silk blouse and lace bra, she felt the friction almost as if her breasts were bare. A yearning gasp escaped from her parted lips.
“I want to look at you,” he said. “I want to touch you and taste you all over.”
When he jerked the ends her blouse up and out of her slacks, she shivered with anticipation and when he undid the small pearl buttons, she studied his large dark hands. Long, broad fingers. A dusting of black hair. Amy’s father’s onyx and diamond ring shimmered on the third finger of Dante’s left hand.
Don’t think about Amy, Tessa told herself. Don’t let thoughts of another woman ruin this time with Dante.
He removed her blouse, but when he reached to unhook the front closure on her bra, she pushed his hands aside and reached out to him. Their gazes collided. She smiled and undid one button on his shirt, and then another and another. And when she had his shirt completely undone, he yanked it out of his trousers and pulled it off.
His hard, muscular chest tempted her beyond reason. When she rubbed her fingertips over his tiny male nipples, he sucked in his breath. She delved her fingers through the thicket of dark, curly hair that spread out over his upper chest forming the top of a “T” while the lower half tapered off over his lean belly and inside his pants. While she savored the feel of him, his strength and pure masculinity, he unhooked her bra and spread it apart. She slid her hands down his sides and unbuckled his belt, her fingers trembling ever so slightly in her haste to undress him.
With both of them bare from the waist up, Dante pulled her against him, pressing her breasts into his chest as he kissed her. All gentleness was gone, replaced by raging hunger. This was what she wanted, what she needed. Tessa participated fully in the savage kiss, his fierce hunger feeding hers. Their tongues mated in a wild dance, their hands exploring, enticing, arousing.
They tore at each other’s remaining clothing, flinging garments onto the floor and down toward the foot of the bed. When they were totally naked, Dante tossed Tessa onto her back, then straddled her hips. As he stared down at her, she gazed up at him. Perspiration dotted his forehead and upper lip. Lust shimmered in his eyes.
He hovered over her, big and dark and powerful. All man. His swollen sex jutted forward, just barely touching her mound.
Tessa’s heartbeat thundered in her ears.
“God, honey, I don’t have any condoms.” Dante groaned. His shoulders sagged.
“I don’t think I can wait for you to go out somewhere and buy a pack,” she told him truthfully.
“Are you saying—”
She lifted herself up and reached for his penis, the actions simultaneous. She pressed on the small of his back as she guided him into her, then she bucked up just enough to take him completely inside her body. He moaned roughly and thrust into her deep and hard.
Nothing had ever felt so good, so right, as having Dante inside her. She clung to his shoulders, her nails biting into his flesh, clamping down on his rock-hard muscles. He slid his hands under her hips and lifted her up, taking her completely, filling her to the hilt. Whimpering gasps and sighs of pleasure escaped from her lips as he lunged and retreated repeatedly, building the tension inside her quickly. Her body joined his, setting an identical rhythm, moving together as if they’d made love countless times and knew one another the way only old lovers did.
Rapidly losing control, his movements frantically increasing in speed and roughness, Dante hammered into her. And she loved it. Her whole body came alive as it never had before, bursting with energy, expanding and contracting, milking him with feminine strength. Her climax hit her with earthshattering force. As she cried out and fell apart, Dante
came, his orgasm intensifying her pleasure.
She held on to him as his body melted into hers, a heavy yet precious weight on top of her. When he rolled over and off her, he curled his arm around her and brought her close, then kissed her. She snuggled against him and sighed. The lingering scent of her perfume mingled with the faint scent of his aftershave. Both blended with the odor of perspiration and sex. A sweet contentment settled over Tessa and she refused to allow any doubts or uncertainties to rob her of this sweetness. She laid her hand over Dante’s heart, loving the way touching him made her feel.
They rested there for endless moments, neither of them speaking, only holding each other. And then Dante broke the silence.
“Are you hungry?”
She laughed. “Now that you mention it…”
“Why don’t we take a shower, then find a restaurant? I’m suddenly starving.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Reluctantly, she eased away from him and sat up in bed. “Do you want the bathroom first or—”
He shot up, grabbed her hand and pulled her out of bed with him when he got up. “Let’s shower together,” he told her. “It’ll save time and—” he winked at her “—I’ll even wash your hair for you.” His gaze traveled down to the apex between her thighs.
Her cheeks flushed, but she wasn’t really embarrassed. She loved the way Dante was looking at her, as if he wanted her again already. She threw her arms around his neck and rubbed herself against him. “In that case, I say one good turn deserves another.”
Laughing, Dante swept her up into his arms and carried her into the bathroom.
ALL HELL HAS BROKEN LOOSE at the old Leslie Plantation, and it’s completely my doing. I created this havoc by simply making a few telephone calls to certain people, beginning with Olivia and Myrle. But I didn’t stop there, with G.W.’s girlfriend and sister-in-law. Oh, no. I knew that in order to stir things up enough to keep G.W. off balance and show Leslie Anne the nightmare her life would become, I had to reveal the ugly truth to enough people so that word would soon spread throughout Fairport. And it has.
Lucie Evans and Vic Noble were doing an admirable job of keeping the hounds at bay, so to speak. But they finally had to call in the sheriff to post deputies at the front gates to keep the press from scaling the walls. By morning, the story of Tessa Westbrook’s rape seventeen year ago and Leslie Anne’s true parentage will be front-page news. Even G.W. can’t stop it. Not now.
I must concentrate on Leslie Anne, push her little by little, but not so much that anyone becomes suspicious. They’ll be watching her like a hawk, so I’ll have to be careful and strike when she’s alone. I thought she would fall apart this evening, but she didn’t. Instead of demanding attention by acting out, she conducted herself quite well, her greatest concern apparently for her grandfather. The girl is made of strong stuff, so pushing her over the edge might prove impossible. In that case, I’ll move right along to Plan B. Whether she kills herself or I do it for her doesn’t really matter. The end result will be the same. Leslie Anne will be dead. Tessa will be devastated and inconsolable. And I’ll have rid myself of the two major obstacles standing between me and what I want.
DANTE CONCENTRATED completely on Tessa and for the first time since he’d been young and in love with Amy, he felt more than sexual desire for a woman. Maybe it wasn’t love, but it sure as hell was something pretty powerful. Had Tessa stirred to life a long dormant emotion inside him solely because she reminded him so much of Amy? Or was it because she had suffered unbearably at the hands of the same monster who had killed Amy? He didn’t know for sure. But one thing he did know was that he liked Tessa for herself and truly admired her. What strength and determination it must have taken for her to have survived Nealy’s brutality. And not only survived, but recovered. She’d built a good life for herself and her child. How many women could love the child of the man who had raped and tortured her? But Tessa Westbrook was no ordinary woman. She was a rare breed.
When they entered the bathroom, he turned on the shower, stepped into the tub and held out his hand for Tessa. She took his hand and joined him. She looked so small and delicate standing there naked, her long hair hanging across one shoulder, the ends resting against the rise of her breast. He leaned down and licked the nipple. Sighing, she arched her back and threaded her fingers through his hair.
While the warm water sprayed down over them, Dante closed his eyes and kissed a path from Tessa’s breast, over her belly and across the front of first one thigh and then the other. When he stood up and opened his eyes, she swayed toward him. He caught her with one hand, sliding it around her waist, then pulled her to him slowly, letting the passion between them continue to build.
“I’m going to bathe you.” He nipped her earlobe. “Turn around and I’ll start with your back.”
While she pivoted around, he removed the small bar of soap from its wrapper, reached around Tessa and yanked a washcloth off the rack at the back of the tub enclosure. He lathered the cloth, then lifted his hand, anticipating not only the pleasure he would give her, but the pleasure he would receive in return. When he looked at her back, his hand paused midair. Tessa’s body was smooth, sleek perfection, except for a series of thin white scars that crisscrossed her back and buttocks.
My God!
“They’re very faint now,” Tessa said. “Years ago they were hideous.”
Dante dropped the washcloth. It hit the bottom of the tub with a squishy flop. “Oh, babe…” He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her fiercely. Protectively. Tears stung his eyes as he imagined how she’d gotten those numerous scars.
“The doctors said that he used a whip of some kind,” she said unemotionally. “Judging from the injuries themselves, they believe he whipped me repeatedly.”
“Tessa, my sweet Tessa.” With his arms wrapped around her, he lowered his head and kissed her shoulder.
“Let’s not waste our time talking about him or what happened. Please…” She turned in Dante’s arms, stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “I know what happened to me because of what I’ve been told, but I have no memory of it. In a way, I’m very lucky that I can’t remember. The way things are, I don’t have to relive that time.”
Dante kissed her. Devoured her. He’d never felt as protective and possessive about a woman. Not since Amy.
Before he realized what she intended to do, Tessa took charge. She kissed his chest, then his belly and as she eased down in front of him, she circled his penis and drew it toward her mouth. He hadn’t known how much he wanted her to do this until she licked him from tip to root and then back up again. Groaning as he grew harder by the minute, he closed his eyes and allowed her free rein. Her mouth closed over him, sealing around him like a moist glove. After only a few minutes of her constant attention, he grabbed her head and held her tightly while he came. He felt as if the top of his head had exploded. She withdrew from him slowly and licked her lips. He reached down and dragged her up his body and held her off her feet until they were eye to eye. She wrapped her legs around his waist, leaned into him and kissed him passionately.
When she came up for air, he said, “Didn’t you say earlier that one good turn deserves another?” He bent over and picked up the washcloth. “But first, I’m going to give you that bath I promised.”
He moved the cloth over her with reverence, worshipping her body, striving to give her pleasure with each touch. She surrendered herself to his care and he took great pride in the fact that she trusted him so completely.
When they eventually stepped out of the tub, Dante dried her slowly, then himself quickly. With her hair only towel dried, he lifted her into his arms and carried her back to bed. When she lay before him, he spread her thighs apart and knelt between them. She tensed. He reached up and tweaked each nipple. She gasped.
“Relax, honey. Relax and enjoy.”
She did relax, but only for a moment. When his tongue touched her intimately, she cried out and arched her back, lifting her hips. He took her
actions as an invitation to finish what he’d started. He concentrated completely on one small area of her body.
She smelled clean and fresh. And tasted musky and sweet.
He made love to her with his mouth, using his tongue, his lips and his teeth. She writhed and whimpered and her feminine folds flooded with delicious moisture.
Within minutes, he felt the tension building rapidly inside her and sensed that she was on the edge. Increasing the speed and strength of his strokes, he brought her to a throbbing climax. Her body shook with release and all the while he continued the deep, penetrating lunges. She cried out and grabbed his head, her fingers digging through his hair. While she floated back down to earth, he lifted his head.
“You are so wonderful,” he told her. “I love making love to you.”
“Oh, Dante…Dante…”
Lowering his head again, he petted her with his tongue, running the tip around the outer perimeter of her mound. And that’s when he noticed something peculiar, something he hadn’t seen until that very moment. There in the crease where her left thigh joined her body, and barely noticeable, was a small, leaf-shaped birthmark, two shades darker than her natural skin tone. Dante froze. He lifted his head and stared at the birthmark.
It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. He shut his eyes, then reopened them and looked again. But there it was. He reached out and traced the outline of the oval, leaf-shaped birthmark.
Tessa giggled. “That tickles.”
“You have a birthmark right there.” He touched it with his fingertip.
“Yes, I know.”
Amy Smith had a birthmark identical to the one on Tessa Westbrook.
“Dante, are you all right? Is something wrong?”
The motel telephone rang.
“Who the hell?” Dante kissed Tessa’s birthmark, his heart beating ninety to nothing. “I’d better get that. It could be important. Although I don’t know why whoever’s calling wouldn’t have used our cell phones.”
“I turned them off after we got back here to the motel,” Tessa told him. “We needed some time when the world couldn’t reach us.”
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