Dangerously in Love

by Kimbrough, Michele

  As he roamed the halls, he ran into Rosemary. “How do I get out of here?”

  Rosemary showed him the way. As he went, he noticed the architectural details of the house. They were magnificent. Just then, he had an idea how he’d finish the landscape.

  Lightning flashed. A storm rolled in, and rain beat against the house like a million rapid taps of an old manual typewriter. Gabe and Ty were scurrying to the truck. Hill stood at the door, looking at the landscape. He was pleased with the work they’d done. It was almost finished. Then he’d get far away from the Church residence.

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something was wrong.

  16

  It was one in the morning. Hill careened from lane to lane, maneuvering around the slow moving traffic. He was in a hurry, and it seemed nobody else was. There weren’t many vehicles on the road, but there was a pocket of traffic that just barely hit the speed limit, slowing him down—and keeping him from getting to her quickly.

  He was in a hurry because Caitlin had called. She said she’d had trouble sleeping again. When he answered, his voice was groggy.

  He said, “Yeah, who’s calling?”

  She said, “Cate.”

  He popped up as if spring-loaded and sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?”

  “Come see me,” she said simply.

  His tires crunched along the gravel driveway at the rear end of the property. Caitlin had told him to park back there, and she’d meet him in the golf cart to ride him to the main house. Rosemary was asleep in her quarters, and the other help had gone home for the evening.

  As Hill strolled through the foyer and down the long corridor with Caitlin, he couldn’t help but admire the fine art hanging on her beautifully painted walls—Picasso, Warhol, Ortiz. Exotic rugs accentuated each room. As he admired the blonde-stained floor boards, Caitlin told him that some of them had been reclaimed from the old cathedral where the famous Fr. Montegne once studied. Exposed beams were also stained in the same color. Iron spindles adorned the staircase. The ceilings were high, the chandeliers hung low.

  Off to the right, moonlight poured into the sunroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows allowed light, no matter how scarce, to brighten the space. It was furnished sparingly but expensively. A fireplace—large and white with an ornate mantle and exposed brick—was the focal point. “If it was rare or unique,” Caitlin explained, “Adam had to have it.”

  “What’s going on, Caitlin?” Hill asked, concerned something had happened. “You sounded distraught on the phone. . .” He followed her down the hall, admiring the way her long stride swayed her hips. Instead of her usual floral scent, a cool fresh fragrance trailed her.

  She pushed through the kitchen door and led him to the massive den. “Can I get you something to drink?” She bit down on her bottom lip, her ankles crossed as she stood, looking as if she’d spin into a pirouette at any moment.

  “No.” He looked around, taking in his environment. He was uncomfortable standing in Adam’s home, thinking about all the things he wanted to do with his wife. It was reckless, too, them being there together—Hill could feel the tension in the air. Suppose Adam came home unexpectedly? What if Adam had cameras hidden in the house, which was something Hill imagined Adam would do? Then what?

  She pushed her hair away from her face with one practiced sweep of her hand. “You can sit if you’d like.”

  She noticed how far away from her he sat—deliberately. The rugged scent of his body drew her nearer to him. She scooted closer and closer until she could feel his breath against her skin.

  “You can touch me,” she said, gazing into eyes that seemed surprised at her boldness. She reached for his hand and pressed it against her heart. A fierce possessiveness came over him, and he grabbed hold of her, his fingers caressing, stroking, and taunting her. There was nothing more exquisite than the feel of his hands caressing her body. And Hill’s touch was warm and inviting. It was a sensation like no other. Her body pleaded silently for him to take her—here and now. But he pulled back, releasing her from the warmth of his touch.

  “I’m not going to break,” she said as she stood in front of him, unbuttoning her sleeveless shirtdress to unveil full, plump breasts. She ran her hands over his smooth, chiseled chest and gazed into his eyes. His hands explored her body from her neck down to her hips. His lips pressed tenderly against her bare shoulder.

  “I want you, Hill.” She let the dress drop to the floor as she reached for his hand and pressed it against her breasts. Her gaze pleaded for him to consume her—and she hoped with all hope that he could see her burning desire.

  “I know it’s wrong . . . I know you shouldn’t be here. But I. . .” she began.

  Before she could say anything else, Hill glided his thumb along Caitlin’s bottom lip, her mouth opening to his touch. He pulled her body tightly to his and kissed her with a craving that made her muscles clench. Heat rushed down her spine in waves. His rugged scent was intoxicating. She grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head closer, pressing hard against his mouth, sucking his lips, his tongue, his earlobe, his neck with such urgent desperation she could hardly catch her breath.

  Nothing in that moment existed except the two of them. Their intensity grew. Their passion was all-encompassing. Their breath and their heartbeats synched. Warm quivers raced through her body as quiet moans of desire escaped her. She pressed her hands against his chest, her fingers roaming along his hard, chiseled muscle.

  “What are we doing?” she asked.

  “Waiting for you to tell me to stop,” he answered, caressing her ear. He pressed his mouth softly against hers. Their tongues plunged and receded, teasing and taunting each other.

  Caitlin leaned into his touch. “Don’t. . .” she said, as he kissed her neck and shoulder. “Stop.”

  He pulled back, attempting to arrest his arousal, but it was much too late. He was too far gone, and his desire for her was hot, heavy, and pulsing with need.

  She ran her hands down his muscular arms, his veins protruding as if he’d just worked out. “Why’d you stop? Don’t you want me?” she asked, looking up at him with an innocent gaze.

  “You asked me to stop.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “You said, don’t. And then you said, stop. Sounded to me like a big fat ‘no’.”

  She chuckled. “Sorry, I was trying to catch my breath. I said don’t stop—but you had me so wound up, I guess there was a gigantic pause in between.”

  “Yeah, there was.”

  She reached her hand between his thighs and rubbed until the swelling in his jeans pressed hard against her hand. Hill grabbed her hands and clutched them behind her back, pulling her body against his. He leaned into her, lingering near her mouth, teasing her, nibbling her lips softly, sucking and kissing them. His tongue twirled around hers, and she surrendered to his kiss—his hunger and passion consuming her. Hill had brought his appetite, and he was more than she’d expected, demanding more than she thought she had to give.

  “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he said. The cherry blossom scent of her hair drifted toward him as he carried her to the polished dining table and lay her body on top of it, pulling her to the edge. He dropped his jeans and boxers to the floor and stepped out of them. His hardness had grown longer, its girth, even thicker.

  “Do you want it, baby?” he asked.

  She thought she’d said yes. But she wasn’t sure. Her body was still reeling from the unbridled pleasure his incredible tongue gave her. She was afraid that if she’d spoken, the only thing he might have heard was gibberish punctuated by moans of pleasure. So she nodded and grabbed hold of his beautifully firm butt, pulling him closer to her. He teased, rubbing against her throbbing sweet spot. The anticipation was bewitchingly sexy.

  After the condom wrapper had dropped to the floor, the swell of his desire filled her with slow gentle thrusts. She watched his eyes close and his face contort pleasure. He frequently licked his lips as he groan
ed with longing, moving his hips into her, pushing so deeply that she could feel him against her cervix—a sensation that nearly catapulted her to another dimension. Talk about screaming someone’s name. She thought everybody within a square mile of them now knew Hill’s name. Each swerve of her hips was a plea for him not to stop. She pulled him into her harder and faster until she could feel every inch of him pulsating inside of her. Grinding, pumping, gyrating.

  Sweat dripped from his forehead onto her breasts. The dining table groaned and wailed under the pressure of their bodies thrashing against each other. The sensational thrill, titillating tingles, aching throbs, and overwhelming desire—all of it—she didn’t want it to end.

  But she felt him about to erupt, his head falling back a little as he reached that moment just before orgasm, that moment when he wanted to hold back. The struggle was there as he slowed and pulled back a little, brushing tenderly against the wet folds of her sex with the plump head of his burning desire. And there it was, as her temperature rose and her body tensed—an orgasm that gripped her body so completely that she yelled out his name once more, clutching his body with all her might. His sweet release came explosively after hers, and he fell forward, laying his head against her breasts, quivering a little, breathing deeply. His heart pounded so hard and fast, she could almost feel it.

  Just as their bodies were descending from that orgasmic high, Caitlin kissed him sweetly on the mouth and said, “No one must know, Hill. You mustn’t tell anyone about us.”

  “I hadn’t planned on telling anyone.”

  She smiled.

  “But I’m not comfortable at all with this arrangement . . . being in another man’s house with his wife.”

  It’s okay. Don’t. . .” she rubbed his arms trying to soothe away his concerns. “Don’t worry, Hill. I would never put you in a compromising position. I’d never have asked you over if there was any chance Adam would return home while you were here. All I know is I want to be with you. Nothing else matters.”

  “Well, yeah, something else does matter, Cate. His name is Adam. And as much as I enjoyed making love tonight—and believe me, it was an experience to be had—if he’d come home, he would have had every right to kill me.”

  “Adam doesn’t own a gun. You have nothing to worry about, Hill. Nothing.”

  Hill nodded, although he knew Adam didn’t need a gun to harm him. The element of surprise was all Adam needed, as he had already proven.

  “We could set up the bungalow with a mattress if you want,” she offered. “Adam never goes in there. And you could park your truck where it’s parked now. It wouldn’t be discovered back there. Nobody would see you or know you’re here.”

  “Then see to it,” he said, grinning and caressing her back.

  They heard something stirring in the distance. Caitlin tapped Hill’s shoulder so that he’d get up. He pulled out of her first, then raised his body, wishing it didn’t have to end.

  “Could it be Adam?” Hill asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe. Or could just be a raccoon or something.”

  “I should leave.”

  “Take me with you,” she said before she could stop herself.

  17

  Hill jumped up, trying to wake Caitlin but unable to. Her arms flailed as she screamed and kicked. He grabbed her arms, but she kicked him in the groin. He bent over, writhing in pain. It took a moment for the aching to pass. She popped up, sweating, breathing heavily. Her face went red, a vein protruding prominently from her forehead. Hill got her some water, and she guzzled it down, choking a little towards the end. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Are you okay?” Hill asked.

  “That nightmare. It had stopped for a while. Since I’ve been with you, I hadn’t had the bad dreams. But now they’re back.”

  He sat beside her and held her close. Her body trembled. She rubbed her hands over her face and sighed with her hands in her lap, chin to her chest. He caressed her arms, trying to calm her. She was clearly unnerved. She couldn’t stop shaking. Her heart raced, body quaked, and hands trembled. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. But it didn’t help—it only served to bring forth a vision of those raisin-like eyes staring at her.

  Caitlin pushed her hair behind her ears. Then without a word, she leaned into Hill’s arms, tears spilling onto his bare chest. He held her so close he thought he’d squeeze the life right out of her. Her voice, tremulous, uttered, “Hill, I love . . . how safe I feel with you.”

  “I’ll protect you, baby. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

  “Hill?”

  “Yes?” he said, caressing her back, comforting her.

  She kissed him tenderly and laid her head against his chest again. “Is it possible to love someone so deeply so quickly?”

  Of course it was possible, but she had admitted before that she didn’t even know what love was. So how could she possibly know if she loved him? He wasn’t sure how to answer her. I love you, too? Did he love her? He remained silent, holding her close, feeling her body finally relax. She hadn’t told him anything about what had her so frightened, but now that she was calm, he didn’t want to bring it up and cause her to think about it or relive it.

  “Hill?” She stood in front of him.

  “Yes, baby?”

  “Make love to me.”

  She let the robe he’d given her fall to the floor, revealing her nakedness. Hill licked his lips, imagining the things he would do to her. Before he could respond, she’d removed his robe, dropped to her knees, and had taken him into her mouth. He groaned, his hands cupping her head.

  ***

  A gruesome haze hovered, still, lifeless. Caitlin sat quietly at the kitchen table, sipping coffee across from Hill. She tried not to get lost in his eyes. The way he looked at her, even his voice, relaxed and soothed her. There was something about how he held her hand with such gentleness that calmed her anxiety.

  She looked into Hill’s thoughtful eyes. He reached out to her, caressing her arm.

  “I don’t know why anybody would have wanted to kill him. He was a good guy. A regular Joe,” she emoted.

  “Who? Who was killed?” Hill asked, confused, baffled by her random statement.

  “He’d asked me to take him to the airport,” she said. “He forgot his briefcase in my car.” She hadn’t meant to be so forthcoming, but she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

  “Who did? Are you telling me about your dream?”

  “No. David—my cousin. He left his briefcase in my car, so I was trying to . . .” she swallowed hard, trying to control the emotion that had resurfaced. She took a deep breath then continued. “When I tried to return his briefcase, I saw . . . I—I, uh. . .” she sniffed and wiped away the tears that fell. “It was so terrifying, Hill.”

  He placed his other hand on top of hers. His hands were soft against them. He moved and sat beside her.

  “I hid,” she continued.

  “So no one saw you?”

  She thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think so. Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “One of them looked at me and told me I’d picked a bad day to drop by. But I’m not sure if he was talking to me or David’s ex-wife.”

  Hill raised an eyebrow, trying his best to follow what she was telling him, but he was lost. “What do you mean? His wife was alive, and one of the men was talking to her?”

  “No. She was dead. I hid behind her dead body, between the wooden slats . . . you know, the unfinished part of the basement where the insulation goes. I was wedged in there, and I used her body to shield mine. But to me, it seemed like that man looked me dead in the eyes when he said what he said. Then he reached for Beth’s hair and touched her face, but he was looking me right in the eyes. But I’m not sure whether he actually saw me.”

  “Would you be able to describe him?”

  She shook her head slowly. “I only remember his eyes.”


  “You said ‘one of the men.’ How many were there?”

  She shrugged.

  “Two, three, four?”

  She shrugged again. “Why are you asking me so many questions?” Caitlin asked.

  “I’m just trying to figure out what happened to you, that’s all.”

  “I don’t know why anybody would want to kill him. He was a good guy, trying to work things out with his ex-wife.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “He was my cousin. They killed my cousin, his ex-wife, and his father.”

  “His father? Your uncle? The uncle you said I remind you of?”

  She nodded.

  “So this happened three years ago?”

  She nodded again. “It keeps replaying in my mind over and over and over again. Then it shows up in my dreams. Just the one man with the beady eyes and bad breath. Him . . . he frightens me.”

  He pulled her into a hug. “What did the police say?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t talk to the police about it. I didn’t talk to anybody about it. All I wanted to do was disappear and fall off the face of the earth, never to be found.”

  She reflected on that moment when she’d fled. She’d needed to hurry out of there. What if the men came back? Would they kill her if they found her there? She hadn’t wanted to stick around to find out. She had twenty dollars in her glove compartment, a half tank of gas, a dead cell phone, and dangerous people most likely following her. How far could she go with twenty dollars and a half tank of gas? She’d watched enough TV to know she couldn’t use her debit cards, even if she had them. She could be tracked that way.

  She’d driven to Midway Airport and parked in the hourly parking, figuring she could park there for a couple of hours just to figure things out. She’d found a space all the way in the back row where there wouldn’t be a lot of foot traffic, but she was still surrounded by other cars. She reclined her seat a little bit, remembering the man with the beady eyes and work boots.