Dangerously in Love (6 page)

Samantha expected the morning sun to break through and wake her from her deep slumber. For the first night in a week, she’d finally gotten a good night’s rest. She looked at the bedside clock. It was flashing 12:00. She sighed and reached for Bill’s cell phone which lay on his bedside table. Hers was in her purse, probably downstairs. The time read seven-thirty. She hurriedly threw back the covers and rushed into the bathroom. Hugging the commode, she retched and gagged. This was the third day in a row that she had woken up queasy. She couldn’t figure out what she’d eaten that had made her so sick, but she knew one thing for sure—she wasn’t about to eat anything now.

“Honey? You okay?” Bill shouted from the bed. He had told her before that she needed to see a doctor. He was worried she’d become dehydrated, but Samantha was more concerned that it was too close to her wedding day. She didn’t want to be sick or hospitalized or anything of that sort. So she juiced and cleansed and came up with all sorts of home remedies. Yet, upon waking, she still had to race to the bathroom, heaving and retching.

She had a few more dry heaves before she was able to say, “Yeah, just more of the same.”

She flushed the toilet, stood up and gargled, then hopped into the shower, basking in the feel of the hot water on her skin, relaxing and soothing. She stood directly under the flow, saturating her hair, then shampooed and conditioned. Out of the shower, she flossed, brushed her teeth, and moisturized. When she walked into the bedroom, Bill wasn’t there. She found her purse on the floor and pulled out her cell phone to check the time. Eight-fifteen.

She looked out the window. Rain. Again. She pulled on her boy shorts, Levi’s and black V-neck T-shirt and slipped on her flip flops—not the plastic beach type, but the bedazzled ones. Hurrying down the stairs, her braless jiggle was apparent.

“Bill?” She rushed past the dining room. “Honey?” She sped through the kitchen. “Bill?” Into the living room. “Honey!”

Bill emerged from the basement with his phone in hand, still in his robe and slippers. She kissed him on the mouth, leaving a glossy residue. She wiped it with her thumb, then leaned against the wall, watching Bill type a message on his phone.

“It’s the warehouse,” Bill explained. “We’re short again.”

“Not today, Bill. You can’t fly out there today.”

“I’d be back before Mom and Dad’s plane touches down . . . tomorrow.”

“No, Bill. You know what always happens. Once you’re out there, you’ll get pulled for who-knows-what. It’s just two days before our wedding. No, you can’t go.”

Bill pulled her into a hug and kissed her lips softly. “I
have
to go, Samantha. I promise I’ll come directly home, and I’ll make sure I’m not available for emergency fill-ins. Besides, your day is so full, you won’t even notice I’m gone,” he said, trying to reassure her.

Samantha sighed and pushed past him. Bill shook his head, looking at her scornfully. “Samantha, I’m not trying to fight with you today. It’s
my
division. If they can’t count on me, then who?”

“You took time off for your wedding. They shouldn’t even be calling you. Why can’t they get someone else?”

“Because there is no one else. I
have
to do this, Samantha. And, as much as I want you to be okay with this, I’m going whether you support my decision or not.” He walked away.

What was the use in arguing with him or getting angry? She had come to understand that his job was stressful and demanding. Whether she liked it or not, he was going.

“Fine. I’ll drive you to the airport.”

“Love you.” He managed a tight-lipped grin as he continued toward the bedroom.

Hill didn’t know what was going on, but he knew better than to ask any questions. He pushed his wheelbarrow to the pile of heavy stones he needed to move and loaded them into it one by one. He looked up at the window, but Caitlin wasn’t there. As he moved about, trying to finish his checklist of tasks before the rain came, he noticed the harried activity around the house.

Adam was walking toward Hill, who looked around to make sure none of his tools were laying nearby. After his first encounter with the man, he’d told Gabe and Ty to make sure the tool trailer was always locked. He didn’t want to give Adam another opportunity to ambush him. Not again. He wanted to be always ready for him.

Hill stood tall as Adam approached. At nearly six feet tall and two hundred twenty pounds of solid muscle, most people were intimidated by his stature alone.
Most people
. Adam Church wasn’t one of them.

“Can you help us out?” Adam asked. It wasn’t a question, but more of a command because he walked away before Hill had an opportunity to respond.

Hill followed Adam into the basement through an outside door. There were two other men already down there. A foul odor hit Hill in the face the moment he entered the basement. He gagged, barely able to stave off vomiting. But he managed. He saw several large trunks lined up. The two men picked up one of them and hauled it upstairs and out to the U-Haul truck. He and Adam picked up another. It was heavier than Hill had expected. Luckily, he still wore his work gloves, so he was able to grip the trunk steadily.

After the last trunk was loaded onto the truck, Adam invited them all into his study for a cigar and a drink. Hill seriously considered declining, but curiosity got the best of him. As they walked through the rambling home, Caitlin walked down the stairs, gliding as if someone were carrying her. Adam awaited her at the bottom of the staircase and kissed her as she took the last step. Hill looked away. As they continued on, Hill snatched a glance. Caitlin did the same, brushing her arm against his as they passed.

Hill stood in the doorway, leaning against its frame. Adam noticed and walked toward him, putting his arm around Hill’s shoulder and ushering him into the study. He patted Hill’s shoulder as he introduced him to the rest of his crew. Adam clipped a cigar and handed it to Hill then lit it.

There were lots of things Hill didn’t like about this day—moving the trunks that clearly served as caskets, watching Adam kiss Caitlin, and fraternizing with criminals who, three years ago, he might have defended. But what he did seem to enjoy was the cigar. It had a sweet aroma and left a grapelike taste on his lips. He really enjoyed it far better than the first time he and Adam had had a cigar together. This time there wasn’t any pain and blood involved.

Through the plumes of smoke, Hill noticed Adam’s full bookcases. He wondered if Adam read any of those books. He walked closer to look at the titles on the spine. There were a lot of the classics, bound in leather. He knew that was mostly a decorative touch. He bent down to look at the books on the lower shelves.

“Looking for something?” Adam asked.

Hill shook his head. “I appreciate the cigar and the liquor,” he said then threw back the cognac. It went down quite smoothly. He set the snifter on the desk. “But you have me on a tight deadline, so I should get back to it. I’m sure I can find my way out.”

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.

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 groaned 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.