Through Her Touch (Mind's Eye Book 5)

by Deborah Camp

  “Levi,” she breathed his name, then sucked it back in. “Levi.”

  He caught her head between his hands and waited for her to open her eyes and focus on him before he spoke. “Turn around, brace your hands on the wall, stick out your butt. Do it. Now. For me.”

  She gathered in a breath to tell him to go screw himself for talking to her like she was his slave instead of his lover, but his for me stayed her burst of anger. Bobbing her head once, she turned around and assumed the position. He ran his hands down her sides, then back up to cup her breasts and pinch her nipples between his first two fingers. His erection slid up and down between her cheeks.

  “You’re heaven to me,” he said, his voice barely loud enough to be heard above the patter of water echoing off the tile. “I know I give you hell, but I give you this, too.” He let go of one of her breasts to take hold of his stiff member and notch the head of it inside her. “All of it. All of me.” He drove in, lifting her onto her toes again, making her shudder at the swift totality of his invasion.

  “God, Levi.” She reached one hand back in a reactive motion, resting it on his hip in a silent request to wait a moment for her body to accept him, adjust to him.

  He kissed her nape as his free hand smoothed down her slick skin to between her legs. He massaged the sensitive nub there, softly at first and slowly, but then rougher, quicker. She arched, her backside bumping against his hard stomach. He pulled out of her a few inches and then thrust into her again. Hard. She cried out, but not from pain. Pleasure engulfed her, streamed out of her from the massage of his fingers on her clitoris and the piston motion of his cock inside her.

  Slamming both hands against the shower wall, she stiffened her knees and leg muscles, taking the pounding. He gripped one of her shoulders and her opposite hip, his fingers digging in, holding her steady while he took his pleasure. He grunted with each plunge and the very sound of those guttural releases spurred her mounting passion. She added her animalistic sounds to his, breathing out moans and emitting sobbing little cries of his name and how he felt.

  “Again . . . oh, yeah . . . right there . . . deeper . . . I’m . . . oh, Lord . . . I’m!”

  “I know, I know,” he growled, bucking into her so hard that she stumbled a little. “Take it, Tru. Fuck, fuck, oh, baby, fuck me.”

  He came in a gush of swear words and semen that pummeled her ears and oozed down her inner thighs. She came in a torrent of mewling sounds and tremors that liquefied her knees. He caught her around the waist and they sank together to the shower floor in a puddle of quivering, spent passion.

  “Holy fuck,” he murmured against her wet hair.

  “Ditto.” It was all she could force past her numb lips. She sat between his bent knees and leaned back against his chest. He cupped her, petting her between her thighs, making her smile and give a little giggle because it was like he was patting her puss and thinking, Good girl.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Us.”

  “You thought that was funny?”

  “No.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I thought that was mind blowing.” She braced her hands on his knees. “Let’s get out of here and dry off.”

  He forced himself to his feet with an exaggerated groan and hauled her up, too. Trudy stepped out of the stall while he shut off the various nozzles. She held a towel out and he wrapped it around his waist. She lifted up on her toes to kiss his smiling lips.

  “You’re handsome. I don’t know if I’ve told you that before or not.”

  He fashioned a speculative expression as he tucked the ends of the towel at his hips. “I believe you’ve mentioned it a time or two.”

  She glided her fingertips along his Adonis lines. “I’m particularly fascinated by the way your body does this. Makes me hot.”

  “Oh?” His brows lifted in interest. He flicked her nipples and they gathered into tight pearls. “I like the way your body does that. Makes me hot.”

  “That’s good,” she said, giving him a foxy smile in the face of his wolfish one.

  “Yeah. It is.” He lifted her breast and bent to nip at her, run his tongue across her, suck hard on her. A frisson of white-hot sensation zipped from her nipple to her core. His hands moved under her arms and he lifted her off her feet.

  With a startled cry, Trudy wrapped her legs around him and he carried her to the padded vanity bench, sitting her there. He kneeled before her on the teal-colored, fuzzy rug, pulled her legs apart and dived right in. His tongue breached her and his lips kissed and sucked her.

  A garbled sound rumbled from her throat as she clutched at his hair and fell back against the vanity. “Levi, no . . . . wait . . . oh, yes. There, baby. Right there.” Bright colors burst behind her eyelids as the pleasure of his cunning, hot, vociferous mouth dissolved her into bits of tremors and pieces of delirium. When her thoughts gelled again and she opened her eyes, it was to view his smiling face, his mouth and chin glistening. He ran his tongue around his lips and winked at her.

  “You taste so good, baby. Like candy.”

  She shook her head at his precociousness. “Liar.”

  “Uh-uh.” He widened his blue eyes. “Better than chocolate.”

  She fell back against the vanity, her arms and legs flung out and limp. “I’m spent. I can’t move another muscle.”

  Laughing at her melodrama, he lifted her into his arms, carried her to the bed, and tossed her onto it. He shed the towel, giving it a toss, as well. Crawling onto the sheet-covered mattress, he wrapped his arms around her. Their bodies were damp and their wet hair straggled over their foreheads. Time slowed to the consistency of syrup. Trudy snuggled closer to him, kissing his shoulder, his chin, his jaw.

  “We’re a pair, aren’t we, Mr. Wolfe?”

  He pressed his face into the crook of her neck and released a long, contented sigh. It was all the answer she needed.

  Chapter 13

  “Have you received any communication from Sheriff Rocknell or any Arkansas investigators lately?” Trudy asked at breakfast the next morning.

  Levi peeked at her over the top of the newspaper he was reading. “No. Why?”

  “Because Chason told me that the Arkansas state police have interviewed him, Sunshine, and Perchance. I’m going to call Quintara today to see if they’ve talked to her yet.”

  “They haven’t. I spoke to Quintara yesterday. She would have mentioned it.”

  Yawning, Trudy reached for another blueberry and sour cream muffin. She’d only gotten a few hours’ sleep last night. Levi had awakened her after three for another round of love-making; this time slow and sensuous. They were at it for an hour or more. She vaguely recalled glancing at the bedside clock to find that it was almost five. Good thing she didn’t have anything important on her agenda today. She stifled another yawn.

  “Still sleepy?” Levi cracked. “Didn’t you get enough rest last night?”

  Without looking at him, she lifted one hand and one, outspoken finger. He chuckled and went back to reading the newspaper.

  “Did Bolt say what the police officer asked him about?”

  “His near-miss with death,” she said. “I take it that they’re investigating to determine if the others were accidents or murders.” She rested her chin in her palm and stared at the front page of the newspaper without really seeing it. How could Levi be so chipper this morning? He hadn’t slept much either. Of course, he was a “morning” person, always rising before eight and ready for a run or a workout in the gym. He sprang out of bed. She rolled out of it. “What should I tell them if they call me? Should I be open and honest about what I’ve experienced or wait to see how they receive my information before I blurt out everything?”

  He lowered the newspaper. “Be truthful. If they don’t like what you say or don’t believe you, fuck ʼem.”

  She shook her head at his cockiness and a grin poked at the corners of her mouth.

  “You can’t be concerned about their perception of you. They’re asking for y
our opinion and any information you have, so you tell them.” He folded the paper and placed it beside his cup of coffee just as Wes came forward to set a plate of eggs, ham, and toast in front of him. “Thanks, Wes. Looks good and smells better.”

  “Sure you don’t want some, Trudy?” Wes asked.

  “No, thanks. I’ll just pig out on these muffins.” She selected another. “They’re delicious. I could use another cup of coffee, though.”

  “You got it,” Wes said, already jogging up the steps to the raised kitchen for the carafe.

  Trudy’s phone, lying on the table near her, beeped and she checked out the number before picking it up. “It’s Chason,” she told Levi. “Hello?”

  “Good morning. I hope I’m not calling too early.”

  “No. How’s everything there? Did you get your security detail back on the job? Have you seen anyone suspicious lurking around?”

  Chason chuckled. “So many questions! I have my security guards back on duty and they haven’t seen anyone tailing me, other than my fans, of course. That’s why I called. I wanted you to know that I’m fine. And I wanted to thank you again for alerting me. I must admit that I have felt some bad vibes from time to time, but they’re fleeting. It’s annoying, but not worrying.”

  Trudy sent Wes a quick smile when he poured her a fresh cup of coffee and then topped off Levi’s. She could feel Levi’s steady gaze on her, but she avoided engaging it. “Trust your gut and stay safe.”

  “I will. Same to you, Trudy.”

  “Thanks. Let us know if anything else happens. The more we all know about this, the safer we all will be.” She’d used the plural on purpose and mostly for Levi’s benefit. “’Bye, Chason.” She set down the phone and her gaze swept up to confront Levi’s rock-hard jaw and flinty eyes. “It’s good he has security guarding him again.”

  He took a sip of the coffee. “Did you glean anything else from the stalker when you channeled him?”

  “Not much. He doesn’t believe that Chason is psychic. He thinks it’s all a scam. He said he wanted to rip out Chason’s throat and watch him bleed.”

  Wes cleared his throat and headed for the laundry room. Levi grinned at him.

  “Not great breakfast conversation, huh, Wes?” he asked Wes’s back before looking at Trudy again. “That’s stepping up the violence. Either he’s escalating or he hates Chason more than the others.”

  “He thinks that Chason has made himself the center of attention.”

  “He’s jealous?”

  “Could be. He’s doing all the work and Chason’s getting all the attention.” She finished off her third muffin and vowed she wouldn’t have a fourth. At least, not until lunch. “What’s on your schedule today, Mr. Wolfe?”

  “Meetings.” He made a comical face. “I have a couple of radio program appearances lined up this afternoon.”

  She nodded. He did several of those a month for radio stations across the U.S. and Canada, answering questions from call-ins.

  “I’m going to a job site this afternoon. It’s that big office building I’ve told you about in Brookhaven. We’ve invested sixteen million in it and the overtime is killing us. I need to kick some ass and see where we can trim expenses, but I should be home by five-thirty or six. You want to go out to dinner? Maybe see a movie?”

  “With our entourage of security guards?” She sneered at him. “No, thanks.”

  “Tru, they aren’t that noticeable.”

  “They are to me.”

  “I suggest you get used to them because you’re going to have security from now on.” He turned his attention away from her and to his breakfast.

  “Even when this kook has been caught?”

  “Even then.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve told you. You’re more public now. I have security with me when I’m out and so will you.” He shot her a quelling glare when she gathered in a breath to protest. “No negotiations about this, Trudy. We talked about it before we were married and I told you how it would be.”

  She lolled back in her chair and finished off her muffin. He was right. He’d warned her that his spotlight would shine on her, too, and that she would need someone to keep overzealous fans and rude bullies away from her. Still, it was more bothersome than she’d expected. Being part of Levi Wolfe’s orbit was certainly more life-altering than she’d imagined.

  “Chason said that the state police officer heading up the investigation is Gloria Moore.”

  “Really?” His forkful of ham stopped midway to his mouth. “I’ve met her.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes. I helped locate the body of a murdered councilman in Arkansas a few years ago and she was one of the officers involved in it. She seemed to be fairly open-minded and respectful. Shouldn’t be difficult being interviewed by her.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  He finished his breakfast, then stood and buttoned his jacket. “Come on out and play with me tonight, baby. I promise you won’t even notice the security guys. I’ll keep your mind occupied.”

  His smile melted her heart even more than his promise. “Dinner and a movie?”

  He moved closer and kissed her. “Absolutely. You can pick the movie.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.” He kissed her again, one hand cupping the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss. Straightening from her, he glanced toward the laundry area where Wes was probably ironing. “We’re going out to eat tonight, Wes!”

  “Gotcha, boss,” Wes called out from the other room.

  “That’s settled then. Dress casual. Underwear is optional.”

  A startled laugh tumbled from her that made him grin. “Go to work, perv.”

  He sent her a wicked wink before swaggering out of the penthouse.

  On Monday Arkansas State Police Lt. Gloria Moore called Quintara and set up an interview for the next day. On Wednesday she contacted Levi and set up interviews for him and Trudy that Friday. She met with Levi at eight-thirty so that she wouldn’t impede on his work day too much. Her appointment with Trudy was at one-thirty, ruining any chance of Trudy having lunch. She barely got down toast and coffee for breakfast.

  “I don’t know why I get so tied in knots when I’m going to talk to law enforcement,” Trudy said to Wes. She picked up Mouse’s tennis ball and tossed it across the living room. Mouse scampered after it. “It’s not like I’ve committed a crime.”

  Wes ran a dust mop around the free-standing fireplace and dodged Mouse as she came running to Trudy with the ball in her mouth. The fuzzy yellow ball was about the size of her head. “Don’t you think it has something to do with how they will treat you? Levi has told me about some law enforcement officers openly making fun of him.” Wes chuckled, darkly. “Which doesn’t go over well with Levi.”

  Trudy huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. As in, he tells them where they can stuff it and storms out.”

  “Can’t really blame him – or you. Why cooperate with someone who doesn’t believe anything you have to say? He says this police officer is different, though. She was respectful and polite.”

  “Yes, he said the meeting he had with her this morning went well. But he didn’t have a lot he could tell her. This is mostly all on me, since he can’t contact the victims.”

  “I wonder why.” Wes propped one muscled arm on the mop. “Why dead psychics won’t respond to him?”

  “I haven’t a clue. Actually, I don’t understand a lot of what we’re able to do, which doesn’t help when officers ask us about it. They want specifics and proof and we’re just not able to supply them. No wonder that a lot of them think we’re fakes.”

  “I admit that when I first met Levi, I thought he was full of it.” Wes grinned, and Trudy could tell he was remembering those early days of their acquaintance. “Then I saw him on a television program – might have been Sissy Franklin’s show – and I thought there might be something to him. Maybe he was just good at reading body language and speech patterns.”


  “Oh, he can do all of that, too,” she assured him.

  “I went to one of his public appearances and that’s when he sold me. I could tell by the audience members that he was revealing things that no one could have known. Those people could have been ‘plants,’ but I didn’t think so. When he told me about his parents and I could see the disdain he felt for his father for paying people to pretend to be healed by him, I knew that Levi would never resort to such trickery.”

  Trudy wrestled the ball from Mouse. “I’m going to put her in the laundry room so that she’s not being a pest when the police officer is here.”

  “Good idea.”

  She carried Mouse to the laundry area where they also kept the dog’s bed. Placing her in the tufted, pink bed, Trudy held her hand up, palm facing the Chihuahua. “You stay in here and no whining and scratching at the door.” She wagged a finger at her. “I mean it, Mouse. Take a nap or something.” Spying the container of dog treats on the shelf above the washer and dryer, she opened it and tossed one of the dog-shaped cookies to her. “There, spoiled rotten. Chew on that.”

  When she entered the living room again, two sharp knocks sounded on the front door. Trudy’s heart jumped and she swallowed the cottony taste in her mouth.

  “She’s right on time,” Wes said, taking a moment to place the mop in the utility closet before striding to the door. He opened it, nodding at the security guard and the woman standing there. “Hello. You must be Lt. Moore.”

  “I’ve checked her identification,” the security guard said.

  “Very good. Please, won’t you come in? I’m Wes Statler, Mr. and Mrs. Wolfe’s major-domo.”

  Gloria Moore stood no more than five feet and a couple of inches tall. Dressed in a nondescript tan skirt and jacket and sensible low heels, she was strictly business. Her silky black hair was as straight as a ruler and stopped in a blunt cut just above her shoulders. She had a stocky build and darkly tanned skin. At first glance, Trudy thought she was Eurasian, but on closer examination as she welcomed the woman into her home and shook her hand, she revised that assessment.