Mystic Hearts (31 page)

“Bedroom,”
she breathed and trailed kisses over his neck.

He
climbed a few steps and stopped. “I need to get something from the GTO first.”

She
hadn’t noticed the car. “You have a GTO?”

“I
do. Does it turn you on?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Eh…The
owner does.”

“I’ll
be right back.” He kissed her lips and lowered her.

She
intertwined her fingers behind his neck, not letting him release her. “No need.
I have a condom.”

Lines
formed on his forehead. “Just one?”

“A
box.”

“You’re
my type of woman.” He moved up a couple more steps and groaned, his expression
turning serious. “Do you mind if we talk first? I should tell you a few
things.”

His
words pinged around in her mind for a moment. “Okay, but just say no to
sprinkling bad mojo on what we have between us.”

Lines
etched his face and the corners of his mouth and his honeyed eyes filled with
worry.

She
slid down his delicious body until her feet touched the step. A
numbing-tingling awareness ran rampant through her body, even stinging the tips
of her fingers. “Okay,” she said, trying to control her shaky voice. Just a
moment ago she couldn’t wait to see him, but now his visit worried her. “Do you
want a glass of wine?”

“Does
it taste like the peach on your lips?”

She
placed a couple fingers on her mouth. “Yeah.”

“Okay,
but later, I want to sample the wine from other parts of your body.”

Goose
bumps pricked her skin and she flushed. “I have a case of wine.”

He
chuckled, tucked her to him, and caressed her arm. “Like I said, you’re my type
of woman.”

His
light-heartedness gave her hope whatever he had to say wouldn’t be a deal
breaker.

They
walked into the kitchen. Charlene moved away from his embrace to reach for a
sweater, hanging on the hook by the door.

“Are
you cold?”

She
sensed his appreciative gaze and peeked behind her. “No.”

“Then,
do you have to wear the sweater?”

She
thought it’d be awkward wearing a barely-there nightie while he talked. “No.”
She dropped her hand. “I don’t.”

“Good.”
He closed the distance between them and grasped her waist. The silk glided over
her skin, caressing her. “I’ll hurry, but first…” He bent, put his mouth on the
base of her throat, and nibbled.

She
closed her eyes and leaned her head back in response to the pleasure. Her
nipples went tight and liquid heat shot to her core. “Larry,” she breathed,
grasping his shoulders and locking her knees to prevent from falling. “We won’t
have a conversation if you keep this up.”

He
eased back and blew out a breath, heat blazing in his eyes. “You’re right.”

Standing
practically naked in front of him, while erotic and thrilling, put her on an
uneven playing field. “I have one condition, though.”

His
mouth curved. “Let’s have it.”

“I’m
at an unfair disadvantage.” She slid a finger down his cheek, tapped his chin,
and moved lower to his chest. “You can see most of me, but I can hardly see any
of you.”

His
low chuckle sent another shot of liquid heat low in her belly.

“You
want me to strip?”

“I
do.” She grinned.

He
slid one shoulder out of his shirt at a time, and tossed his shirt onto a chair.
His movements, the heat in his eyes, made it one of the most erotic acts she’d
ever seen.

Her
eyes traced over every dip and ridge in his abdomen, his chest, before landing
on the bruise from where the bullet hit his bulletproof vest. An ache pinched
her heart. If he hadn’t been wearing the vest…she shook her head, dismissing the
thought. She couldn’t go there. “I can’t believe what went down in the café.”

“I
know.” He sat down in the chair next to hers and shifted until he held the
outside of her thighs and his knees straddled hers. “This shooting wasn’t as
bad as the last. Jackson phoned that none of the bullets hit the building. Last
time, the McDowell Brothers had to repair the damage.”

He
gripped the wine bottle. “Want a glass?”

On
her nod, he filled a goblet and handed it to her, then poured his. “To us,” he
said, lifting his glass.

“To
us,” she repeated, wondering for the hundredth time what he was about to say.

The
intensity in his eyes lessened. The heat in them turned down to a lower simmer,
as his expression turned serious. She wasn’t ready to stop their fun banter. “You’re
not done disrobing.”

A
mischievous sparkle gleamed in his eyes. “I’m not?”

“No.
You see, I’m wearing a see-through thong under this nightie. This again puts me
at an unfair advantage.”

His
honey-colored eyes crinkled at the corner as his gaze slid over her body,
devouring every inch of her, and his face reddened. “I noticed. And as you’ll
see, I appreciate the outfit.”

She
flushed. “Then you better hurry, so we can get to it.”

He
choked on a sip of wine. “Damn, woman. You’re killing me. You’re full of
surprises.” He untied his boots, toed them off, and removed his socks before
standing. Undoing his belt, he stopped. “Should I dance to?”

“Okay.”
She giggled.

“Ha.
If only I had some rhythm. You should know I can’t dance.” He dropped his
jeans. Black material puffed up as if a pole lifted it. Her mouth watered and
the nerves between her legs jumped with joy.

 
“Should I remove my briefs?”

Yes, please.
“If you do, we
won’t talk.”

His
eyes went wide and excited. “No?”

“No.
I would be in your lap in a flash.”

“I’m
game,” he said, then cupped a breast and tweaked her nipple.

She
grasped his hand, holding him to her, and swallowed harshly. Stimulation made
it hard to breathe, to think, but he had something to tell her. “I want, but
later.”

“Deal.”
She sat.

He
rested in the chair beside her and straddled her knees. The tip of his penis
broke free of its confines. “This will be hard.”

She
giggled, “Already is,” and scratched his shaft with the tip of her finger as if
it was a cat’s chin.

“Whoa.”
He gripped her wrist. “Not yet.”

The
electricity in the air snapped around them. She had no idea hanging out with a
man could be so fun, exhilarating. “I’m sorry. I can’t resist. Go.”

The
laugh lines around his eyes disappeared. He stared at his glass. “I want to
tell you the rest of what happened between my father and me.”

By
the seriousness of his voice, she sensed how much he needed to be able to talk
without interruption. She draped an elbow over the chair’s back to prevent
temptation.

His
eyes drifted to her chest, desire shining before focusing on her face. “I told
you I killed my father.”

“Yes,”
she said, a lump parked in her throat and her mouth went dry.

“That’s
only half true. My father held my hand on the gun. My finger was on the trigger
when he applied pressure to discharge it.”

Charlene
gaped.
What type of man does that to his
son?

No
words were spoken for several minutes. She thought maybe he wanted to say more.
When he remained silent, she tried to figure out why he withheld the details
earlier. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I
didn’t want you to think I was weak.”

She
closed an eye and tried to comprehend his thoughts. “Come again?”

His
stern expression softened into a smile. “I plan to, shortly.”

She
swatted his bare knee at his irony. “Did you think the way the shooting
happened makes a difference?”

“The
thought crossed my mind. My father held my hand on the gun.” Larry rested his elbows
on his thighs, his hands hung between his knees. He looked beaten. “How does a
man not move his hand?”

“He
didn’t let you!” Larry’s insistence that he was the bad guy in what happened to
his father tore at her heart and infuriated her. Larry didn’t deserve any of
the responsibility. “Why do you blame yourself for what he did?”

“It’s
as if I shot and killed him.”

“Whoa!
Back up, big guy.” She dropped to her knees in front of him and covered his
hands with hers. “You did nothing wrong. He was sick. Any person in their right
mind would see what a prize you are. You continually help your mother when she
faults you, disowns you. Wait a sec.” She kissed his lips and uncurled.

This
situation demanded the harder stuff. She reached into the cabinet above the
refrigerator and pulled out a bottle and two shot glasses. Tequila would remove
Larry’s funk. She filled the glasses and set one on the table. “Drink.”

He
eyed her for a second and downed the liquid.

She
handed him the other. “This one, too.”

“You’re
not having any?”

“I’m
not the one who needs to shake off a twisted father. Drink.”

His
throat moved. The glass hit the table with a clink. The wrinkled skin between
his eyes smoothed out.

“Better?”

He
pulled his lips inward. She craved to touch them, but not until he said his
fill.

“That
day,” Larry’s voice was sullen, “when Ben gripped my hand, just before he made
me squeeze the trigger, Dad said, “I don’t deserve to live. Be a better man
than me.”

“What
an awful person.” Charlene filled the glasses again and placed them on the
table, one for him, the other for her, and sat. “Is he the reason you don’t
like the name Ben?”

Larry
nodded. “Which reminds me, did you ever figure out why you called me Ben?”

She
had, but admitting it was embarrassing “I vaguely remember. I thought you were
the teen who had died at Greenwood Manor.”

His
eyebrows scrunched. “How’d you know about him?” He waved a hand. “Doesn’t
matter, but why did you think that?”

“I
have no clue. Like everything that night, weird objects, strange occurrences
materializing…” She shook her head. “Did you know a witch flew over the moon?”

He
smirked.

“Yep.
And the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland visited.” She giggled. “I’m surprised I
remembered. Actually, I didn’t until now.”

“That
wine was potent.”

“That
it was. Since we’re airing stuff out, I have a question.”

“Okay.”
His voice sounded tight.

“Did
you put a tracker on my cell or my car?” She didn’t remember what source Celine
said the guys used, just that they did.

“Huh?”
After a short pause, he said, “No. I haven’t.”

She
narrowed her eye and gave him her world-class stink-eye. “Are you sure?”

A
low chuckle erupted. “Yes. You should have given Randy the eye. We would have
extracted more information sooner.”

Laughing,
she said, “It works every time.” Gratitude for Larry’s honesty washed over her
at the same time disappointment struck. “I wish I knew why Randy is loyal to
Andrew. I doubt he’ll ever be forthcoming.”

“One
day, maybe he will tell you.”

Since
Randy hadn’t yet, she seriously doubted he would. “Has he said any more since
his arrest?”

“No.
He’s been released with the understanding if he made contact with Smith without
informing the authorities, charges will be brought against him for aiding and
abetting, and obstruction.”

This
conversation needed to end. She was done talking about anything related to
Andrew. She rose.

“Are
you going somewhere?” There was an upward lilt in the end of the last word that
told her he knew what she was up to.

“I
am.” Tucking a hand inside the band of her panties, she pulled out a foil
packet, and grinned.

“Wow.
My dream girl.” He straightened, reaching for her.

She
pressed a hand to his right shoulder, staying him.

His
intake of ragged breath sent a shiver down her spine and jostled the daring
minx, craving to be set free. She ripped the packet open.

A
hiss of satisfaction escaped him, encouraging her to continue. She pulled his
shaft out of his briefs and rolled the condom over him and shifted to remove
her panties.

He
slid his hands around her waist, stopping her, and wrapped her in his warm
comfort. Holding onto her butt, he stood.

“I
want you in me,” she whispered.

“Always
in such a hurry?” He kissed her earlobe.

“With
you, yes. Maybe one day the sizzle will die.”

“Doubtful.”
His voice was strained.

A
hand towel hung on a cabinet door. He snatched it and covered the chair’s seat.