Reprise (9 page)

Chapter Eight

The truck coughed and wheezed as Mallory put it in park outside the old folks’ home. She pulled the key free and stepped out into the lot, reaching behind the seat to pull out the arrangement of daisies she’d picked up at the market.  Her dad liked fresh flowers in his room. He also liked the chocolate croissants from the bakery she lived overtop of, so a pink box of them was also tucked into a reusable grocery bag. Enough for her dad and the nurses on shift.

She made her way past the common area, giving smiles to the residents she’d known for a couple of years now. No one stopped her. The staff she saw all recognized her, said their hellos.

Her father’s room was dim, and a quick look confirmed that he was taking his midday nap. The blinds were drawn most of the way closed. In the half-light she tossed out the lilies that were starting to droop in the simple cylindrical vase and replaced them with the daisies, then she opened the box of croissants on the small table under the window. One of those deals you could wheel over and it sat across the lap of the person in bed.

That done, she settled into the recliner, the last piece of furniture left over from her childhood home, and studied the man sleeping in front of her.

This was good. He was always introspective and thoughtful when he first woke. He didn’t always know who she was but she just played along like she was any old visitor.

Before long her eyes strayed to the bottom of the window, where she could see glimpses of people walking by out in the courtyard—

“...he shot himself in the head. Out in that campground, south of town.”

“I knew he’d been sick, but I had no idea it was that bad.”

Mallory got to her feet with a frown and moved to close the door. Whoever was outside the door was discussing a pretty upsetting topic. No need to hear more.

“Harlon Junior’s apparently back in town already.”

“Really?” Now the voice was less shocked. More...giddy?

“Jessica saw them going into the Sheriff’s last night. He’s got some friend with him. She said they both look like ex-cons.”

Now she paused, hanging onto the knob and trying to hide behind the open door, ears peaked.

“Did she happen to notice the fit of those jeans?”

“I’m sure they still fit just as good.”

“I doubt it. He must be sixty by now!”

“His dad was a well-preserved man, too.” Then there was a stunned silence. “May he rest in peace, of course.”

Mallory frowned. Tiny’s dad? He wasn’t the one they were talking about—

“I can’t imagine getting to the point of offing yourself. But like you said, he was sick.”

“Harlon’s going to need some comforting, I bet.” Now the first one was giggling again, and Mallory had to shut the door. Gossiping drove her nuts, but that wasn’t the main reason. No, the Gray family had always been so wonderful to her. Better...better than her own blood, come to think of it.

-oOo-

“What are you doing here?”

Mallory lost her words. The big, important speech she’d rehearsed dissolving under the pissed off look on the face of the man in front of her.

“I asked; what are you doing here?”

She couldn’t tell him that her friend had told her where he lived. That she had been thinking of him for the last three weeks straight following their tryst in the cab of his rig. No, thinking all that over now she saw how pathetic and ridiculous it all was.

Down the hall from his apartment a door opened, laughing voices ringing down the corridor as his neighbors were apparently headed out for the evening. With a curse he caught her elbow and pulled her into his apartment, slamming the door behind her.

“What do you want?”

Jesus, Harlon sounded angry. And he looked furious. His brows were drawn together, lips a tight line. His shoulders looked tense, hands cranked into fists. It was then she noticed he was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, unbuttoned. Chest, stomach, and feet bare.

She licked her lips.

“Mallory?” he growled.

Well, at least he still remembered her name. “I wanted to see you again.”

“Why?”

She swallowed. “I...I just wanted to.”

“Look honey, we had fun. All right? It was good. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. But that’s all I’ve got to offer, okay?”

Her mouth hung open, shocked.

“Fuck. I knew it was too good to be true. You let go like that and then just leave, no attachments? I should have fucking known better.” He pushed a hand through his hair and turned away, stalking into what must have been a kitchen going by the vinyl flooring, off to the left.

What the hell just happened?

Starting to get rankled, Mallory followed. “What the hell is your problem?” she asked, stopping under the kitchen arch and crossing her arms.

He was shoving a carton of milk back in the fridge. “I’m on the road a lot. I don’t need a fucking woman chirping in my ear over how she hates being alone, blah blah blah. I don’t need a woman period. You meet me and then an hour later we’re fucking in my truck. That doesn’t lead to anything permanent, honey. That’s a fuck, nothing more.”

“What if that’s all I want, too?”

She could tell he hadn’t expected that, but his recovery time was impressive. “You say that now, but in a week you’re trying to pick out curtains.”

Her chin went up. “Don’t fucking flatter yourself. I’d hardly say you’re a prize as far as men go. All you’re good for is fucking, Harlon Gray.”

With that she turned on one heel, the steel spine receding and tears threatening to spring up in her eyes.

She got to the front door just as a large hand slammed down on the wood veneer, trapping her in his apartment.

Her pulse spiked.

“All I’m good for is fucking?” That voice was low and sounded dangerous, but it stopped the threatening waterworks from rushing down her cheeks.

No, something else got damp instead.

“You heard me,” she whispered. “Good for you.”

“You show up here and I’m supposed to believe all you want is a good fucking?”

“What else would I want from an old man?”

His hand went up to throw the deadbolt, even with her eyes, then in a flash she found her back to that door. Harlon Gray had her pinned in place, with one knee between her thighs, hands on each side of her shoulders. His body pushed against hers, and she couldn’t have gotten away if she tried.

But she didn’t want to.

“How often does that mouth get you in trouble?”

Her heart quickened again, tilting her head back to look up into his dark eyes. They were heated. Very heated.

She swallowed again. “Usually it gets me out of trouble, actually.” She hadn’t intended for that double entendre. She didn’t even recognize it as one until he barked out a laugh, crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes.

“You are so over your head you don’t even know which way is down.”

Her hands had been stuck down at her sides, but now they came up, resting in the center of his chest. His head titled down to watch as she pushed both palms outwards, moving over the soft skin under its carpet of thick hair, the skin stretched taut by all the muscle underneath. He took a deep breath, and her hands moved lower over his stomach, with the limited room she had.

“Mallory...” he growled, but that was all. She’d taken that condescending smile off his face, at least. Now he looked intent. And heated.

“Too bad you’re not interested,” she mused, watching his face as her hands smoothed up over his skin again, running over both nipples at the same time. “I guess I could go find someone else to—”

She was cut off as her head snapped back against the door. No, that was inaccurate. It was pushed back, Harlon’s mouth crushing hers so violently her entire body was rendered immobile. That tongue spiked into her mouth, taking and owning, making her moan and hook her hands on the back of his neck to keep him close. He tasted like dinner. Not that he was delicious, but she guessed he’d just finished dinner when she arrived.  It was in his mouth, some kind of red meat. It made her mouth water.

He kept his hands pressed to the door behind her, the strength of that kiss muscling her head into place. With every thrust and stroke of his tongue she felt him all over and throughout her body, the ghosts of that night in the truck overtaking her senses.

Yes, this was what she wanted. This was why she’d shaved her legs and put on sexier underwear.

She unclasped her hands and pushed at the neck of his open shirt. He moved his hands just to let the flannel hit the carpet, then they slammed against the door so roughly it shook.

She wasn’t scared. She was more turned on. As her hands ran over his broad, silky back he leaned into her tighter, chest meeting hers so hard and rigid. She was burning with need to have his rough hands on her, clutching and grasping, but they stayed pressed to the door.

Fine. She’d be the one to start progressing things.

Fingers trembling, Mallory’s hands left his back, sliding around his ribs, dipping low over his stomach. The hair that led downwards was soft on the backs of her fingers as she pushed them into the waistband of his low-slung jeans.

His only reaction was to move his hips back, mouth still covering hers.

She plucked at the button until it came free, then pulled the halves apart. The zipper came down, giving her ample room to slide her hand inside...

She groaned as he did. Her palm contacted the evidence of his arousal through the cotton of his underwear, straining upward at the elastic waistband. She pulled the elastic away from his drum-tight stomach and shoved her hand downward, palming that flesh and fisting tightly. His hips pistoned against the hold, then back into it.

Damp warmth rushed between her legs. He was groaning, pumping into her grip with such force it made her knees weak. Made her body throb, particularly between her legs. She wanted him in her, doing just this.

It seemed like it had been an hour, but the moment she parted their mouths she instantly missed the contact. He put his forehead to hers, face down, breathing heavy, eyes closed. And still those hips moved...

Shoving him away, she dropped to her knees on the short-pile carpeting and took him in her mouth. She wasn’t intimidated by his experience anymore, not right then. She was running the show now.

Mallory ran her tongue around that smooth head, then sucked it into her mouth, as far back as she could.

“Fuck!” It was expelled on a gasp of air, her confidence swelling.

He stumbled back, angling to the right, hitting the wall across from the kitchen entry. She went with him, not losing his cock from her mouth. He held his weight on bent legs, knees to each side of her. With one hand she grasped the thick root of him, the other braced again his hard thigh to keep her balance. And when both of his hands went to her hair, getting tangled and pulling to get her moving the way he wanted she moaned again. Not a whimper, not at all.

With a grunt, just when she was sure he was close to finishing, he pulled upward on her with hands, and popped free of her mouth as she cried out. There was pain along her scalp but it heightened the arousal that was burning her up.

With one dip and surge she found herself over his shoulder, suddenly looking at his back and the floor. She was dimly aware that she’d squealed from the suddenness of it, but as she strode off down the hallway the alarm wore off. The previous excitement ebbed back into place, especially as she realized they were in his bedroom.

The world spun and she bounced onto her back, the springs of the mattress squeaking. The support and mattress were just stacked on the floor so the drop from his shoulder had been enough to make her stomach get that elevator jumpiness, but it was gone when he fell to the bed with knees to each side of her thighs, trapping her.

That heavy cock still jutted out from his jeans, yet it didn’t get in the way as his hands went to the fly of her jeans. She wiggled to help him get them down her legs then off her feet, taking her tennis shoes with them. He left her panties in place again, eyes resting on the scrap of baby blue satin for long enough that she wondered how lame it actually was. They were just bikini-style bottoms, but the fabric was nice.

He loomed over her, eyes running up her torso. Weight on one hand he worked the buttons of her blouse open, revealing the matching baby blue bra. Not padded, just satiny like the panties.

Now his half-smile was slow. One hand ran down her side, over her ribs, and her back arched. Oh Christ, yes. That was what she wanted; those hands scraping her skin.  That hand cupped her ass, snagging the smooth fabric. And that was erotic, too.

Then his hand tucked inside to squeeze a cheek and she gasped. Something about his palm being inside her underwear was intimate, proprietary. “These are cute,” he growled, eyes coming up to hers.

She didn’t know what to make of that. A slight chill raced over her skin, wondering if he was making fun of her for something.

“You don’t need sexy underwear though, Mal. Just so you know. Naked really is the best turn on.”