Covet fa-1

by J. R. Ward

  “Oh, please…”

  She braced herself on her heels as he slipped the top button free, unzipped and swept the denim down her legs. Her panties were black and he stopped and just stared at them on her body. “Good…lord,” he murmured.

  His hands actually shook as he reached out and ran his fingertips across her belly. She waited for him to kiss her again…or move over on top of her…or take her panties off…“Is there anything wrong?” she said hoarsely.

  “No…not at all…I just can't get enough of looking at you.”

  Finally, he came up to her lips. Licking into her mouth, he settled on her with his full weight, his bare chest on hers, their legs intertwining. Together, they found a rhythm, an erotic arch and retreat that sexed her up until she was gasping and so was he.

  “Please…Vin…”

  As he kissed her, his hand eased down her hip and over her thigh, then brushed across the stretch of her panties. “I need to feel you—” he said.

  She took his forearm and pushed down, moving his fingers to her core, dragging them across her covered heat. As she shuddered and let her legs fall to the sides even more, he took his mouth to her breast and suckled at her…while he rubbed at what covered her. “More,” she said.

  Slipping under the delicate edge, he found her softness and cursed hard, his body snapping tight from head to foot, his teeth gritting, the cords in his neck tightening up starkly. “Oh…Christ…” he said. “Oh…damn.” Abruptly, he pulled back and looked down at himself.

  “What?” she asked breathlessly.

  “I think I just had an orgasm.”

  As he flushed, she started to smile and couldn't stop. “You did?”

  He shook his head at her. “Right, okay, that's not a good thing at a time like this. Five minutes from now? Perfect. At this moment? Not so hot.”

  “Well, it makes me feel sexy,” she said, smoothing her hand down his face.

  “You don't need any help with that.”

  Marie-Terese let her touch slide slowly over his chest and his hard stomach, then down farther, over his belt and onto his…

  Vin threw his head back and moaned, his pecs flexing, his torso curving up. “Shit.”

  Moving her palm up and down on his erection, she tucked her face into his neck and bit down a little. “I don't think it's going to slow you up much.”

  His rib cage contracted, breath shooting out of his mouth. “I gotta get naked.”

  “I should hope so.”

  His hands were rough on his belt and his fly, and his slacks hit the floor at the speed of light. Black briefs cupped his sex—barely. His erection was a long ridge crammed over to one side, the head fighting to get free of the waistband that held it in.

  Before he could lie back, she reached out and tugged those briefs down his hard thighs, springing his arousal. He had orgasmed and the glossy, weeping tip of him made her even more ready for what was coming fast.

  Wrapping her hand around his shaft, she stroked his sex and looked up, watching as he planted one palm against the wall and let his head fall loose. He moved with her, and she glanced across at the mirror, watching what his back looked like as his hips swung forward and back, the clenching and releasing of his torso muscles and the way his spine undulated in a wave the most erotic thing she'd ever seen…

  Marie-Terese let go of him, took off her panties, and stretched out beside him. Ready. Vin righted his head and stared at her from under his brows, his silvery eyes lit up bright as a flash of steel in the midday sun.

  They both remembered the same thing at the same time. “Do you have a—”

  “I have a condom—”

  Thank you, God, she thought as he went to his wallet and took out one of those Tiffany blue Trojan packets. She was on the Pill, courtesy of her regularly visiting a doc-in-the-box in town, and she'd just had a checkup, but no matter how attracted she was to Vin, she wasn't going to be reckless with her own body with anyone.

  Safe sex was the only way.

  And watching him protect them both was sexy as hell. When he was done, they resumed the position they'd been in before, her back against the duvet, him half on top of her, half to the side. The condom was chilly against her thigh, leaving a quickly cooling trail, and she wished she'd had a moment to feel his sex for real somewhere on her. But then he was fully on top of her and between her legs, the head of him nudging at the heart of her.

  She stared into his eyes as she guided him in.

  How right it was. How filling and spectacular the joining. How wondrous to meet his stare and see reflected in it the same things she was feeling—the glorious shock at how well they fit, the coiling need to go even further…

  And there was another surprise for her: For once it didn't hurt because her body actually wanted this.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in a guttural voice.

  “More than okay.”

  Marie-Terese wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close as they began to move together. Her last sight before she squeezed her lids shut was of them in the mirror, their bodies wrapped around each other, her legs split wide, his hips doing the driving. As she met her own eyes, her reflection was a shock. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair tangled around his heavy arm and her lip? parted. She looked very much like a woman with a good partner.

  Which made sense. This was sex the good old-fashioned way—between two people who wanted to be together for no other reason than that it was the right thing at the right time for both of them.

  When what the mirror was showing grew wavy from tears that sprang to her eyes, she closed the sight of them off and turned her face into his shoulder.

  Somehow, he managed to hug her and still keep up the rhythm.

  As Marie-Terese pitched over the edge of pleasure and went into the kind of free fall she had only a vague memory of, she held on to the man responsible for the way she felt and let herself go. Her climax milked another one out of his sex and she felt utter satisfaction as he shuddered and kicked—

  Except then everything went wrong. For a split second, she thought of what she had been doing for money, and that was all it took to ruin it: A cold gust blew into her chest and spread out from there until all her veins were frozen and her muscles drew tight against bones of ice.

  Vin stilled as if he had sensed the change in her and he lifted his head from her hair. “Talk to me.”

  She opened her mouth. But nothing would come out.

  “It's okay,” he said softly, catching her tears with his fingertips. “This has to be hard for you. Even if it felt right, it has to be hard.”

  She struggled to catch her breath, not from exertion, but from the effort of not flying apart. “What if it all comes back every time I'm…”

  With you, she wanted to finish, but that seemed a bit much. For God's sake, she didn't know whether she was still going to be in this town next week.

  He kissed her. “Other memories will take the place of all that. It's going to take time, but it will happen.”

  She glanced at the mirror and thought of the way he moved. As she recalled the feel and sight of him, the cold retreated some, ushered out of her by a wave of warmth.

  “I hope you're right,” she said, running her hands through his hair. “I really do.”

  Chapter 24

  As they lay together, Vin covered Marie-Terese up with the best blanket he had: his own body. Damn, it felt good to be all crammed on his little bed with her, although he had to be careful with his hands and where they went. With so much exposed deliciously soft female skin so close to him…

  After two orgasms, only one of which had been on time, he was still hard. And hungry. But he was not going to pressure her in any way.

  So yeah, he watched where his palms went as he stroked her slowly, and he kept his hips out of the way, and he trained his eyes across the room instead of on, say, her perfect pink nipples.

  “I'm sorry about the crying,” she said, as if she knew he was worried.


  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  She pressed her lips to his pec. “You did plenty.”

  Well, if that didn't make him go all big dog in his chest. “I'd like to do it again sometime.”

  “Would you?”

  “Soon.”

  The smile she gave him was bright as a rainbow. “Too bad you had only the one condom.”

  “Talk about tragic.”

  They stayed side by side until the cold breeze coming in through the window over took the hot drift from the vent above the bed.

  “You're cold,” he said, rubbing the goose bumps on her arm.

  “I'm comfortable, though.”

  He reached over her and picked up her shirt off the floor. As he helped her into it, he paused to watch her breasts sway.

  “You should never wear a bra. Ever.”

  She laughed as she did up her buttons, and after he handed her the fleece she'd worn, he picked up her panties.

  Oh, for God's sakes…he wanted to keep them. Which made him a perv and a jerk, but that was the caveman for you: He wanted something of his woman’s with him.

  Except she wasn't his, was she. For fuck's sake, what woman in her right mind would sign on for a guy who'd just dumped his would-be fiancee? Yeah, real stable right there.

  “I believe these are yours,” he murmured, handing over the slip of black with care.

  “Yes, they would be.” She took them and treated him to one hell of a show as she put the things on — not because she was being deliberately erotic, but because to him she was pretty frickin' edible any way she came and no matter what she did.

  The whole thing made him think about when he'd taken her jeans off. He'd stopped at that point and stared at her for so long because he'd wanted to go down on her right then and there: He'd been struck motionless by visions of moving her hips to the edge of the mattress and kneeling on the floor in front of her and taking his damn time with her.

  In some ways, though, oral sex was more intimate than the whole penetration thing, and he'd been concerned that being with him would bring up bad memories for her. Which was exactly what had happened.

  But hopefully there would be other times. Shortly. And a lot of them.

  When he was dressed, and her bra was tucked in her pocket, they walked out of his old room, arm in arm, and as he passed the mirror, he took the picture of the Madonna with him, slipping it into his jacket.

  Downstairs, he turned off the lights and lowered the heat, and when they got to the front door, he paused and looked around. “I should clean this place up.”

  He had a feeling he wouldn't act on the impulse, however. Even though he had a crew of men he could send over to rip out all of the old crap and demo the baths and kitchen, he had a terrible inertia problem when it came to the house. In a lot of ways, it sucked the will to live right out of him.

  On the way back to the Iron Mask, he held Marie-Terese's hand the whole time, except for when he had to shift.

  Pulling into the club's parking lot, he glanced over. As she stared out her window, the line of her chin and the way her hair fell over her shoulder were incredibly beautiful.

  And then he realized what she was looking at. The alley on the far side that was cordoned off with crime scene tape.

  “You want me to follow you home?” he said.

  She nodded, her eyes still locked on where those kids had been killed. “Would you mind?”

  “I would love to.” Man, trust from a woman could make a guy feel tall as a mountain. Marie-Terese turned to face him. “Thank you…for everything.”

  He leaned in slowly, in case kissing so close to where she had worked was going to be too much. She didn't move out of the way, though, and as their lips met briefly, he inhaled deep. Clean laundry and fresh woman. That was what she smelled like. Better than any perfume ever made. “Can I see you again?” he asked.

  Ducking her head, she picked her purse up from the floor. “I hope so.”

  With a last, too-quick smile, she sprang the door, got out, and went over to her car. Instead of using a security fob, she unlocked the thing using the actual key, and it took forever for the fucking thing to start.

  He didn't like that Camry of hers. Way too unreliable.

  And while he was at it, he didn't like how she'd avoided his eyes just now.

  When her car finally decided to get with the program, she took off and he rode her bumper out of downtown and into another section of suburban houses. He knew immediately which one was hers: the little Cape Cod with the bars over every window, even those on the second floor. The car parked parallel to the curb right in front was no doubt the babysitter's.

  Vin waited at the foot of the driveway while the garage door went up and she drove inside. As the panels trundled shut, he hoped he would catch another glimpse of her, but she stayed in the car.

  Which was no doubt safer, and therefore a very good thing.

  He waited some more.

  And then there she was at the window in the kitchen, lifting her hand in a wave. Returning the good-bye, he waved and put his hand over the horn to give a little beep…but then stopped, figuring she wouldn't appreciate any attention being drawn to her.

  He headed off with a frown cranking his eyebrows together, her situation chillingly obvious. She was still running from that ex-husband of hers…running not just scared, but terrified, and expecting at some point to be found. For God's sake, she wasn't even chancing it by opening her car door until she was locked in the garage.

  His first thought was that he wanted to build her a fortress and arm the fucking place with a platoon of soldiers like Jim.

  His next was of the way she'd answered his question before she'd left his car:

  Can I see you again? I hope so.

  She was going to bolt. Whether or not those two deaths last night had anything to do with her, she was going to pull a runner. And the idea of never seeing her again, of not knowing what happened to her, of not doing anything to help, panicked the shit out of him.

  About fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the Commodore's garage and parked next to his black Range Rover. For some reason, as he got into the elevator, echoes of the nightmare he'd had about Devina came back and he heard that voice again:

  You're mine, Vin. And I always take what Is mine.

  On the twenty-eighth floor, he stepped out into the corridor—

  Vin stopped. The door to his duplex was open and voices were coming out of his place. A number of them.

  It was hard to believe Devina had gotten movers to come over this late—it was past midnight, for fuck's sake. So what the hell was going on?

  Striding over, ready to give whoever was in his digs a hard time and then some, Vin burst inside with all proverbial guns blazing.

  Cops.

  There were four cops standing in his front hall, and they all looked over at him at the same time. Holy shit, it had finally happened. All those bribes to city officials, all the misrepresentations, all the tax evasions…it had finally caught up with him.

  “Can I help you, Officers?” he said, going total poker face.

  “He's here,” one of them called out.

  As he wondered how many were in his study, his eyes shifted to the living room—

  With a whispered curse, he took halting steps forward and gripped the carved jamb of the archway. The place looked like it had been hit with gale-force winds, furniture tipped out of place, paintings hanging cockeyed, liquor bottles smashed.

  “Where's Devina?” he asked.

  “In the hospital,” someone answered.

  “She's what?”

  “Hospital.”

  He turned to the cop who had spoken. The guy was built like a bulldog, and with the hard expression he had on his face, he looked like one, too.

  “Is she okay? What happened?” Vin eyed the handcuffs that were being undipped from the man's belt. “What do you need those for?”

  “You're under arrest for assau
lt and battery. Please show me your hands.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You are under arrest for assault and battery.” The cop didn't wait for compliance, but grabbed Vin's right wrist and slapped the cuff over it. A quick wrench and Vin was locked in. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney”—now the guy's voice grew wry—“one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as I've stated them?”

  “I haven't been here since this afternoon! And the last time I saw Devina, she was leaving—”

  “Do you understand your rights?”

  “I didn't do any of this!”

  “Do you understand your rights?”

  Vin hadn't been arrested for years, but it was like riding a fucking bicycle; it all came back to him. Except for one salient part—back then, he'd known precisely why he was being taken into custody because he'd actually commited the crime.

  “Answer me something,” he demanded as he wheeled around to confront the badge. “Why do you think I hurt her?”

  “Because she said you did, and going by the busted knuckles on your right hand, I'd say you were in an altercation very recently.”

  Devina…had lied. Big time. “I didn't hit her. Ever. I had no reason to.”

  “Oh, really? You mean when she told you she'd been with your buddy, that didn't tick you off? Hard to believe.”

  “My buddy?”

  “Let's get you booked. And then you can call your lawyer.” The cop glanced around the ruined living room—which still managed to look expensive, even as trashed as it was. “Something tells me you won't be needing a public defender.”

  Chapter 25

  Jim woke up on Sunday lying on his side, with Dog tucked into his chest, and the television on mute in the background.

  The on-the-side part and the soundless TV were standard operating procedure. Dog, however, was a nice addition: Warm, friendly, and he smelled like summer air for some reason. The only time it got a little disorientating was when Dog dreamed, his paws twitching, his jaw working, muffled growls or woofs coming every once in a while.