French Quarter (25 page)

Then his arms closed warm around her and she lay her forehead over on his shoulder—trying to recover from the exhaustion of coming.

Slowly, she gathered her strength and rose up off of him, choosing to stay that way, up on her knees, until she felt his semen leaking down onto her thigh. One last command. “Rub your come into me,” she whispered.

He looked in her eyes, his own gaze dark and as filled with smoldering lust as she suspected her own had become. Then he shifted his attention to her pussy, lifting both hands to slowly smear the fluid onto her inner thighs as she straddled him. Finally, he drew his wet hands to her breasts, moving his palms in slick circles on her welcoming mounds. She closed her eyes and basked in the raw sensation of taking him into her in an entirely different, oh-so-sensuous way.

When he’d finished, she glanced over her shoulder to see the three cheerleaders still on the stage—all of them were naked now but for the ribbons in their hair. The room was awash in their moans as they slid colored vibrators in and out of each other’s pussies.

“Is Mistress Liz ready to get the hell outta here and go back to my place where I can fuck her some more?”

She turned back to Jack’s dark, hypnotizing gaze. “Mmm, yes, I think Mistress Liz is retired for the evening.” She let a small smile make its way to her lips. “But she hopes she surprised you. Excited you.”

He simply shook his head, as if in disbelief. “You have to ask?” he said as he zipped her dress back into place.

“I just want to hear it.”

She climbed off him, still feeling sexy in her leather and boots. He zipped himself up, too, then took her hand and led her to the door. Once they were outside, back in the wild hustle and bustle and neon of Bourbon Street, he turned to her. “I
loved
what you just did back there. I love
everything
you do to me, baby. I love helpin’ you explore this hot, dirty part of you. And I can’t get enough of you.”

Another arrow of hope pierced Liz’s heart. A man who couldn’t get enough of her might stick around for a while. But she tried not to dwell on a hope that seemed so dangerous, so thin—other lovers had professed devotion to her in the heat of the moment only to regret it later. So she just concentrated on the moment, since that had been working for her well enough so far. She concentrated on the sights and sounds and smells of the Quarter as they walked hand in hand through the party district, and then she focused on the quiet, the dark, the sultry night air, as they traversed the opposite end of Bourbon where Jack’s apartment was located.

Of course, all of that was about
him
. She might like to think she was taking in other things, but all of those sights, sounds, tastes, smells—they were Jack’s life, Jack’s world. And she couldn’t wait to get to his place, where she intended to give him all the pleasure he could handle.

* * * * *

“Move in with me.”

She opened her eyes the next morning to find Jack lying next to her, propped on one elbow. Both of them were naked and Liz could scarcely recall a time when she’d slept more peacefully than these last few nights with Jack. But his words shook her from sleep, startling her.

He kept making this request—a request she would surely dream about if it wasn’t being made only because she had a madman stalking her. What to say? She simply shook her head. “You’re sweet to ask, but…”

“But nothing, damn it. I want you here. Want you with me.”

His dark eyes shone so sincere.
He wanted her with him
. Didn’t that say it all, wasn’t it what she wanted so desperately to hear? She was still so afraid of getting hurt, and moving in with him had somehow come to represent that total surrender, the final act of putting herself out there, at risk, but in that early morning moment of weakness, she could no longer turn him down. “Okay,” she said, letting out a breath, realizing she was really doing this, really accepting his invitation. “Yes, okay.”

Lifting one hand to her cheek, he lowered his mouth on hers, kissing her long and hard and passionately. Then he whispered, “I never want you to be afraid of anything again.”

* * * * *

As Jack ate a sandwich at his desk that day, working through lunch, he felt more at ease than he had in a week. He couldn’t deny the reason why, which was two-fold. Liz was going to move in with him, which meant Todd could no longer bother her. And it also meant that this woman he’d fallen for so quickly and completely was coming into his life in a whole new way. Dare he think a permanent way? That was probably too far ahead to be thinking, so for now he’d just be happy with what he had—Liz in his apartment, his bed, full time. He’d wake up with her in the morning and go to sleep with her at night. They’d eat together, shower together…hell, just
be
together.

Wadding the deli wrappings and tossing them to the garbage can beside his desk, he turned his attention back to his work. He had some surveillance videos to look through, and even fast forwarding through them when nothing important was happening still took a lot of time—and he wanted to get through them all as quickly as possible and get home early today. He intended to show up at Lynda’s house with a bunch of empty boxes and get Liz out of there and into his bed tonight.

* * * * *

Liz called in sick for work. She’d driven home in a pair of Jack’s gym shorts and one of his T-shirts with every intention of changing into a suit and making her way to the ad agency, but by the time she’d showered, she realized that if she was really going to move in with Jack, she needed to just do it, today.

For one thing, if she had all day at work to dwell on her decision, she might talk herself out of it. And even if it was scary as hell, she didn’t want to change her mind. She realized now that she wanted desperately, madly, to live with her lover, to give him a chance to fall as deeply in love with her as she was with him. Maybe, despite all her fears, she had a chance at real happiness with a man who truly understood her and accepted her and encouraged her to be her own woman.

The very idea of living with him filled her with crazy naïve schoolgirl wishes. She wanted to see him all the time, wanted to cook for him, wanted even to do inane things like fold his socks and underwear for him. She just wanted to delve as deeply into him as he would allow her to, and if she was going to do this, she had to do it the way she’d done everything else the last week or so—she had to go for it completely.

That led to the other reason for skipping work today. She could go to Todd’s while he was at the office, gather more of her things, and start moving stuff into Jack’s place before he even got home tonight. He’d already given her a key, and he always said he loved her surprises, so she hoped he’d love this one, too. She wanted to be there waiting for him when he walked in the door after a long day of investigating. She thought she’d greet him in a baby doll nightie with a glass of wine. As exciting as last night had been, now the idea of just making love to him at home, alone, sounded perfect to her.

Dressed in shorts and a tank top suitable to the hot day of hard work that lay ahead, she’d gathered a few boxes from Lynda’s garage, then ate an early lunch before getting to work, since she didn’t want to be interrupted once she started the business of moving.

Now she made her way around the hedges to the house she used to share with Todd. She still had her key, so she only needed to gather her stuff and go. There would still be big things, like furniture, but she could take the smaller things she’d contributed to their household: her CDs, her books, some new sheets she’d bought but not yet opened, the small painting she’d bought in Paris when she’d vacationed there with girlfriends during college. They weren’t things she needed this very minute, but they were things she
wanted
. Things which, once she had them back in her possession, would help her feel less and less connected with Todd and the farce of a life they’d shared.

Stepping in the front door, she noticed how things had been let go in her absence. The floors hadn’t been swept or vacuumed, fast food wrappers and white napkins lay strewn across the coffee table. Even the couch cushions seemed in disarray.

But none of that was her problem—it only made her even more eager to get her belongings out of there.

Taking one of the boxes to the bookshelves in the corner, she began methodically scanning the shelves and retrieving the volumes that were hers. The stereo set next to the bookcase, so after closing up a box of books, she reached behind her for another box and repeated the process, finding the CDs she’d brought into the relationship, and loading them neatly inside. After kneeling over it to close it up, she got to her feet, ready to head upstairs. That’s when she saw Todd sitting in a wingback chair by the window.

She flinched—damn it! He was just sitting there watching her. For how long? “What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped.

He tilted his head smugly. “I live here.”

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“I called in sick.”

She let out a sigh. What were the chances? “You look fine to me.”

“Well, I’m not. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m heartbroken.”

She drew a deep breath, then let it back out.
Be calm
. He seemed a little more normal today. Snotty, but not crazy. “I’m sorry about that, and sorry to have burst in on you. I’ll just take my things and go.”

He glanced at the boxes she’d filled. “Really, Elizabeth, you could have called. I’m not going to hold your books for ransom or anything.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, given the way you’ve reacted to this whole thing, I wasn’t sure.”

He actually smiled. “Need help carrying them over to Lynda’s? Books are heavy. I’m happy to help.”

She didn’t know quite what to think. Was it possible Jack had actually gotten through to him the other night, that he was really going to leave her alone now? Was it possible he was being sincere, trying to end things on a civil note? She wanted to believe that, but in her heart, she couldn’t quite take that step. “Thanks anyway,” she said, “but I can carry them.” She picked up the CD box and headed for the door. She’d half-expected him to follow her or detain her somehow, but when she stopped to look back, he still sat comfortably in the chair. “And just so you know, I won’t be next door anymore.” She wanted to make sure he wouldn’t bother Lynda—the last thing she wanted was to heap trouble or danger on her friend.

“Where are you moving?”

She sighed. “What difference does it make?”

He pierced her with his suspicious gaze. “I bet I know. I bet you’re moving in with that Neanderthal of yours.” When she didn’t reply, he lifted his hand to his chin, stroking an imaginary beard. “Now that troubles me.”

She simply turned back to the door, murmured, “Sorry to hear that,” shifted the box to one hip, and reached down for the knob.

“I don’t want you living with that guy.”

The smart thing would be to ignore him, just keep going. Yet somehow she couldn’t. She was so tired of letting him push her around. He’d been doing it since they’d met and now that she’d started fighting back, she couldn’t seem
not
to. “Well, where I live is really none of your business anymore.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not, but I’d advise against moving in with him.”

She blinked, wondering what the hell he had up his sleeve. “Oh?”

“I know some things about your Neanderthal man.”

She didn’t reply, simply stood there by the door, waiting for him to go on.

“I know things like where he works, where he lives.”

She let out a disgusted sigh. She had no idea whether he was telling the truth or not, whether it was even possible for him to know, but… “What are you getting at?”

“Do you know, Elizabeth, that a guy can learn how to do practically anything these days on the Internet?”

What on earth was he talking about? She was about to give up finding out and had just reached for the doorknob once more when he said, “Do you know that a person can find out how to make a simple bomb with just a few clicks of the mouse?”

Liz felt all the blood drain from her cheeks. She finally lowered the heavy box to the hardwood floor. She put her hands on her hips and tried to sound stronger than she felt. “What the fuck are you talking about, Todd? Spit it out. Exactly what are you trying to say?”

He made a
tsk
ing sound. “Such language. Maybe you aren’t my perfect little wife, after all.”

“About time you got that message.”

He simply chuckled. “I didn’t mean that. I can forgive the occasional slip, darling, unlike you. But either way, whether or not you and I get back together right now, I don’t want you living with that guy. And if you do move in with him, Elizabeth, I promise you’ll regret it. Or, I should say,
he
will. And I’ll know if you do it—trust me, I’ll know.”

 Liz simply stared at him. To think she’d been foolish enough to believe he’d been acting reasonable there for a few minutes. God, he was truly psychotic. As that and his threat against Jack began to sink thoroughly into her skin, she knew she had to get out of there—now. She couldn’t stand being in Todd’s presence for one more minute. She opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, then hurried across the yard toward Lynda’s with the box in her arms, no longer caring if she got the rest of her stuff back, ever. She just wanted Todd out of her life.

Letting herself into Lynda’s, she dropped the box just inside the door and turned the lock, then plopped onto the couch. She’d been so close, so close to really having him out of her life. She’d thought by day’s end she’d be moved into Jack’s, where a wonderful new existence of happiness and acceptance and freedom could begin.
Now
what was she supposed to do?