Of the Knowledge of Good and Evil (12 page)

She breathed a disbelieving laugh, and he realized that she thought he was talking to her. That was fine. Let her think he was in control. This close to her center, her scent was overwhelming him, and he wasn’t sure he could hold out much longer. He was terrified that he’d be overcome and plow into her with his aching erection instead of just pleasuring her with his mouth as he’d planned.

Her hands secured, he returned his attention to the prize before his face. The sun streaming through the windshield cast her skin in a display of diamonds, picking up on the caramel highlights and lowlights.

“You’re exquisite,” he breathed. She shifted uncomfortably, apparently anxious about his perusal, and he wondered who the hell she had been with in the past that no one had worshiped her like this. He knew he was going to do it frequently and for the rest of their lives.

The thought penetrated the lust-fog of his mind, and he nearly choked as he gasped. He was already thinking of the rest of his life with this woman? He frowned as he tried to think back to the past, to the first time he’d experienced the Impulse eight years ago.

He remembered in shock that he’d fallen deeply in love with Emily the moment he’d laid eyes on her and heard the Voice whisper “the One” to him. In comparison, falling for Dahlia was taking an eon.

Holy shit. He was falling for Dahlia! Despite her possibly evil nature, her secrets, her less-than-sweet personality.

And that was all the thinking he accomplished before the lust came roaring back in, with even more force now that he’d discovered he had strong feelings for the woman spread before him like a banquet.

He grinned and then blew a gentle stream of air over her, starting just below her belly button and then traveling down slowly until just reaching the top of her cleft. She wiggled again and moaned, so he resumed his stream of air, this time passing down her parted flesh and back up.

She cried out, and he heard her nails scrape across the dashboard and the leather of the seat back creak.

He closed the small distance between them and pressed a chaste kiss to the very top of her, right over that bud.

“Jericho,” she moaned. “Please, don’t tease me. I can’t take it anymore.”

He hadn’t realized he’d been teasing; he’d just been taking his time, enjoying her. But he couldn’t ignore her pleas, would give her anything she wanted, and so her returned to kiss her again. This time, nervously, with an open mouth over her bud and a swift swipe of his tongue.

He dimly heard her cry out so loudly it approached a scream, but his own guttural grunt overshadowed the noise she made.

Her taste.
He’d never encountered anything so perfect. So made exactly for him. He kissed her again, and again. His hands returned to her hips, digging in hard. He grew frantic, his kisses more rapid.

“Lick me,” she begged him.

He opened his mouth wide and lolly popped her from bottom to top. This time, there was no doubt that her cries had turned to screams.

“Jericho,
please
,” she whimpered. “I need — ”

It didn’t matter that she couldn’t finish her sentence. Jericho knew exactly what she needed. He licked her broadly one more time before focusing on her clit, lapping it in short strokes again and again. He heard himself moaning with every taste, louder and louder, and realized he was thrusting into the bench seat in time with his mouth. He was going to come, quickly, and harder than he ever had in his life.

He began thrusting harder, surging toward that finish that he needed more than he needed air. He simply
had
to finish at the same time that she did, and he could tell by her cries that she was close. She was repeating his name over and over in a prayerful litany.

Her hands returned to his hair, nails scraping across his scalp. He felt every muscle in her body tense, her breaths grow even shorter, her cries rise in pitch, and then she shattered beneath his tongue.

She arched from the door, grabbed his head and held him against her firmly while she undulated beneath his mouth. He sucked her nub between her lips and kissed her through the final waves of her orgasm, and he went over the edge too.

He shouted against her moist skin, stiffening and thrusting one final time. “Dahlia,” he groaned. “God, oh, Dahlia.” He muttered a stream of words he was unaware of, certain he was revealing feelings that he had not spoken of prior to this moment as he came and came and came.

Dahlia’s violent grip on his head turned to caressing just as the ability for complex thought returned to Jericho. She brushed her fingers through his hair and sighed.

He raised his head, turned into her palm and kissed her before forcing himself upright on wobbly arms. He let out a shaky breath as he held out his right arm and beckoned her to him. She wrestled her pants back up — Jericho barely stopped a groan of complaint as she covered herself — and moved immediately though slowly into the curve of his body, wrapping her arms around him from the side and resting her head on his heaving chest. His arm curled around her and pulled her even closer, and he buried his nose in her hair while he tried to catch his breath.

“That was — ” Dahlia began and then stopped.

Jericho closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, waiting for her verdict.

“The best thing I’ve ever experienced,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her. He could swear she sounded shocked and a little unsteady, and not just from the physical portion of what had just happened.

Jericho breathed a sigh of relief and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “For me, too,” he whispered into her hair. And it had been. To his shame, he again made an immediate comparison to what his short encounter with Emily had been like. Both women had blown his mind, but Emily was sweet, fragile, and if Jericho was honest, not very passionate. The few days they’d been together, Jericho had felt the need to handle her like spun glass. And, unlike with Dahlia, he had been able to control himself enough with Emily to actually handle her gently. With Dahlia, he lost all control. “I didn’t hurt you did I?” he asked quickly. God, he couldn’t even remember how rough he’d been.

She pulled away and looked at him frankly. “Are you kidding me? No! And if you get any less enthusiastic, I’ll kick your ass.” And then she promptly snuggled back into his chest.

They held each other for several minutes. He eventually heard Dahlia begin to breathe evenly and realized she had fallen asleep.

He smiled and kissed her hair again, and keeping her just where she was, turned on the car and pointed them toward home.

• • •

Dahlia was warm, cozy, and more relaxed than she could remember being in nearly a decade. But she was being nudged persistently by someone who was going to die.

She groaned in warning and snuggled closer to the warmth next to her. The warmth chuckled, and Dahlia snapped to wakefulness.

Before her now-wide-open eyes was the t-shirt-clad chest of the man who had just shown her how things should be between a man and a woman. Holy shit, had that been incredible. She’d been with a lot of men in her quest to feel a connection, enough that next to the practically virginal Jericho she felt ashamed, and also regretful, but she had never known anything like that.

She smiled slowly into Jericho’s chest, breathed in his masculine scent and cuddled in closer.

“Sweetheart, we’re home,” Jericho said in a strained voice while his arm tightened about her and drew her closer. His lips fell to her hair fervently, and he kissed her once, twice, a third time before Dahlia raised her head and met his descending lips with her own. She sighed against him and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth. She groaned, her arms moving to come around him —

“They’re home, they’re home,” Gabriel shouted excitedly from somewhere outside the truck.

Dahlia jerked back, but Jericho was more relaxed, pressing one final kiss to her forehead and preventing her from pulling away from him completely. He smiled at her softly, and then he turned from her to open the car door, revealing a jumping-bean version of her son.

Gabriel bounced from foot to foot while Jericho climbed down. As soon as Jericho moved aside, Gabriel launched himself into the truck and at her.

All of the air oof-ed out of her, and then she returned her son’s hug, looking at Jericho over Gabriel’s mop of brown hair. He watched them through wary, squinty eyes before smiling reluctantly. She found herself smiling back, and for a second — just a second — she allowed herself to fantasize that they were a family. Gabriel was their son; this was their home; they belonged to each other.

It was such a powerful image it brought tears to her eyes. She tightened her hug involuntarily, and Gabriel squirmed.

“
Mamá
!” he protested. “Too tight!”

She loosened her arms. “Sorry,
mijo
.”

“Where’d you get a
truck
?” he asked excitedly, bouncing up and down on her lap.

Before she could open her mouth, Jericho opened his. “It’s
your
truck,” he said. Gabriel’s head swiveled around to him like a little owl. “What do you think?” Jericho asked.

Dahlia shot him a warning glare, but he pointedly ignored it, all of his attention focused on Gabriel.

“Really?” Gabriel squealed. “Can I drive it?”

Jericho quickly hid a smile and looked at her with an open face and shrugged. Gabriel turned toward her too, wearing an almost identical expression.

Oh, good God, they couldn’t be serious. “No!” she shouted. “Are you both crazy?”

“Ah,
ma
— ” Gabriel started in that whiney voice kids get when they want something outrageous.

“She said no, buddy,” Jericho said, keeping his tone light. “Come on and help me carry some supplies into the backyard. I need your muscles.”

And, like he hadn’t been perched on the edge of an epic tantrum, Gabriel bounced out of the truck and followed Jericho to its bed emitting happy chatter.

Dahlia blinked. She was geared up, ready for some heavy parenting, and in four small words, Jericho had handled the situation for her. She closed her eyes. Oh, how badly she wanted the family fantasy. She had been without help all this time. In two short days, she feared she’d grown too dependent on Jericho’s help.

She turned her head and saw that Jericho was lifting construction beams from the loaded bed of the truck. Gabriel was carrying a bag of small supplies. She frowned. Just how soundly had she slept? She didn’t remember stopping for supplies. And why the hell did they even have supplies?

Jericho saw her watching them through the rear window and flashed a crooked grin that caused butterflies to dance in her stomach. He tossed three beams over his shoulder, balanced them with a gloved hand and then walked around the truck, Gabriel on his heels. “Come on, sleepyhead,” he called to her as he passed.

Dahlia stumbled from the truck and went around to the bed to stare in bemusement at the overflow of construction supplies and equipment. She could only manage one beam.

She turned dumbly and followed Jericho and her son into the back yard. “What’s all this stuff for?” she asked, recognizing the warning in her question. She knew something was up.

He winked at her. “I placed a call and arranged for pickup while you slept. I’ll be able to fix the roof before nightfall.”

She widened her eyes. A fixed roof?

“There are some groceries in the cab behind the seat,” he continued. “Why don’t you grab some and take them into the kitchen?”

Dahlia’s stomach rumbled in response, and she realized she hadn’t had lunch in all the … excitement of the day. Jericho smiled at her. “There’s some ready-made stuff, too, so you can eat something now.”

Without another word, Dahlia turned on her heel and walked back to the truck, her thoughts in turmoil.

Her jaw dropped as she peered behind the seat. He’d gotten enough groceries to feed three families.

She needed air. Now. Right now.

She stumbled into the house, knowing if she killed Jericho in front of her son she would cause psychological damage. Esperanza heard her and called to her from the kitchen. Dahlia walked in, ready to let loose to the woman Dahlia knew would understand her feelings.

She skidded to a stop. The kitchen gleamed, and there was a new gas-range stove and stainless steel refrigerator.

She stopped in her tracks. “
¿Que es todo esto?
” she said, asking Esperanza what those were.

“
Nuestro nuevo refrigerador y la estufa
,” Esperanza said, rubbing her hands together with childlike glee.

Well, yes, Dahlia could see that they were a refrigerator and stove. The real question was, what the hell were they doing in her kitchen?

Jericho came into the kitchen at that moment, carrying all of the groceries in his arms, a loaded tool belt slung low around his hips. “Oh, good,” he said. “They came.”

Dahlia spun around, suddenly way more angry than she remembered being in her life. With forced calm, she said, “Can I speak with you in the hall?”

Jericho’s eyes immediately clouded with guardedness, but he nodded, placed the rest of the groceries on the counter where Esperanza was already working putting them away in the commercial-grade fridge.

As soon as they had the relative privacy of the hallway, Dahlia blew up. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Jericho sighed wearily, and not in surprise, which meant he knew she wouldn’t be happy with the extravagant gift … and he’d done it anyway. Her anger reached new levels.

“Look, Dahlia, I can’t stand the thought of you and Gabriel living in this house the way it is.”

Shame at the condition she was living in — that
Gabriel
was having to live in — flooded her. “Well,
Jericho
,” she spat his name at him, immediately going on the offense, “you don’t get a vote. You’re taking me away soon, and then you’ll never see us again, so just send it all back and
stop doing this shit
!” The final words had escalated to a screech, and Dahlia tried to force herself to calm down.