Succubi Are Forever (32 page)

And with a town as small as Bluebonnet . . . everyone talked. She hadn’t slept with Dane, but that didn’t matter. She’d tried going to the police when the pictures first went up, but her mother had been so upset and sheriff had looked at her like she was trash, and she’d dropped the entire thing rather than acknowledge that the pictures were of her and Dane. At the time, she’d hoped it’ll all just go away. No such luck.. Everyone in town assumed she had slept with Dane, blown him in the closet at a party, and they looked at her like she was dirt. In their eyes, she was dirt. The town slut. It had taken patience, a stiff upper lip, and years of a quiet existence as the town’s librarian before she’d managed to grasp a semblance of her reputation again.

Beth Ann put down the scissors and leaned over the back of the chair, smiling into the mirror at Miranda’s frown. “Well, you’ve got three weeks to burn, and your infamous ex is back in town. You can pretty much do what you want and you won’t be here to suffer the repercussions. So what do you want to do? TP his house? Key his car? I’m sure we can think up something totally juvenile and completely satisfying.”

Miranda stared down at the pamphlet, at Dane’s confident smile. But what she saw was pictures of herself on a webpage, in e-mails forwarded to thousands of people. Tossed up on the Internet and forever linked to her name. Pictures of his hand down her pants, her breasts angled at the camera like twin beacons.

And she stared at Dane’s casual, confident brochure smile again.
Professional survival training
, the pamphlet read.

Casanova Croft, kicked off of the Las Vegas Flush for sleeping with the owner’s wife.

Professional survival training.
Professional.

“I think I want revenge,” Miranda blurted, then turned to stare up at her friend. “I know it’s not rational, and I don’t even care. Is that crazy?”

“Not at all,” soothed Beth Ann. “What did you have in mind?”

Miranda held up the brochure, an idea forming. “I want to ruin his career like he did mine.”

“I’m listening, honey.”

Miranda flipped open the pamphlet. “They’re just starting a business, right? What if pictures of Dane Croft surfaced on the Internet? Naked pictures of him? Naked, compromising pictures of him?” The idea began to grow in her mind, and she jumped out of the chair, almost trembling with excitement. “Naked, compromising pictures of him in a survival situation?”

Her best friend’s blond brows furrowed together. “And where would you get such pictures?”

“I’d take them myself.”

Beth Ann raised an eyebrow. “And just how are you going to do that?”

Miranda held up the brochure triumphantly. “I’m going to sign up for a survival course and use the legendary Boobs of Bluebonnet against him. Casanova Croft won’t stand a chance.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

“I’ve never been wise around Dane Croft,” Miranda said, thinking of the last time she’d seen him.

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Chad announced, shoving Miranda and Dane toward his bedroom closet. Giggling teenagers surrounded them, and Miranda felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment, but she didn’t let go of Dane’s hand.

Dane nudged Chad and grinned. “Do me a favor, bro, and skip the timer.”

Chad smirked.

She could have protested, said she wasn’t that kind of girl, but she said nothing, not even when the door shut behind them. She wanted to be that kind of girl with Dane.

Chad’s closet smelled like sweaty football gear and dirty clothes. It was crammed full of boxes and clothing on hangers, the single flickering lightbulb overhead not offering much in the way of light. She wrinkled her nose at the musty smell of the closet and waited, her breath catching. Would Dane make a move on her tonight? They’d flirted for weeks, held hands for the last one, and kissed under the bleachers. Given time, she knew she wanted him to be the one to take her overdue virginity.

But time was the one thing they didn’t have. They’d graduated earlier that evening and after the cap and gown ceremony, they’d headed to Chad’s for the last senior fling.

It was now or never.

She gestured at the light overhead as it flickered again. “Should we turn that off?”

“Leave it on. I like looking at you.” Dane’s hand gave hers a squeeze and he smiled at her. “You okay?”

Yes, she wanted to say. I’m fine. Did you have a nice time at graduation? But it came out as a whimper, the words lodged in her throat.

Dane chuckled at that. “I guess I should be telling you ‘Happy eighteenth birthday,’” he said. “You’re as old as me now.”

Eighteen, and they’d be going off to college soon. The thought ran through her mind, urgent curls of heat rushing through her. Instead of responding, she pulled him close and began to kiss him instead, her mouth seeking his.

“Whoa,” Dane whispered, but his hands went to her ass and he pulled her against him, grinding his hips against her own. His tongue slid into her mouth, delving deep and tasting her in the sweetest kiss she’d ever had. His mouth pulled away from hers after a long moment and he breathed hard in her ear. “Damn, Miranda.”

Her own breath thrilled at that, and she slid her leg between his . . . and stumbled, landing on him.

He cursed, trying to shift his weight, pinned between a row of jackets and a stack of boxes.

“Sorry,” she whispered meekly, shaking her high-heeled boot. “I think my shoe got caught in his helmet.”

They fumbled in the cramped quarters, and Miranda grabbed onto a shelf and pulled herself up, then turned to remove the football helmet from her boot.

Dane shifted behind her, his hands sliding around her waist. “That’s better,” he whispered against her neck. Something tickled at her waist, where her shirt rode up—his fingers.

Her hand covered his, and she moved it farther up under her shirt, quivering with pleasure. “Touch me, Dane. Please.”

“Love to,” he whispered in her ear, and pressed a kiss against her neck, making her squirm. “You are the hottest damn thing in this town, Miranda Hill.”

“You know it, Dane Croft,” she whispered, craning her neck so his tongue could glide along her throat. Heat pulsed through her body. She didn’t protest when his hands slid to her shirt and pulled it over her head in the near darkness. She even unhooked her own bra, since his fingers fumbled at her back for a long moment. But then his hands were cupping her breasts, his fingers warm against her skin. Fingers teased her nipples and she gasped, lifting her arms and twining them around his bent head.

From behind her, he pressed a kiss against her bare shoulder and she could feel his erection against her jeans. His fingers tweaked her nipples again, and her breath caught in response. “Dane,” she whispered. “God, do that again.”

“I’ll do even better,” he said against her neck. One hand grasping her full breast, his other slid down her belly and undid the button on her jeans. Her entire body tensed, tingles of excitement running through her. Was he going to touch her . . . there?

His fingertips slid into her panties, brushed the curls of her sex, and she let out a whimper of delight. Two seconds later, his fingertips slipped into her panties. One finger swept past the lips of her sex, grazed her clit. Oh yes. His hand squeezed her breast at the same time that he stroked her there, and her entire body stiffened, the anticipation of being in the closet with him rushing her toward an orgasm—

Click.

Miranda froze in place. Dane continued to finger her, biting at her shoulder, and she pulled away from him, sliding his hand out of her panties. “Did you hear that?”

His hands reached for her, brushed against her breasts again. “Didn’t hear anything.”

“I thought I heard a noise,” she said softly, staring at the closet door. It was still shut, and the doorknob didn’t move. Overhead, the light flickered again. Nothing. Maybe she was imagining things. Paranoid at being caught. If she listened hard, she could hear her classmates giggling in the other room, waiting for them to emerge.

She started to protest, but he bit her shoulder and pleasure crashed over her, and she didn’t protest when his hand slid back into her panties once more.

Looking back, she had been so very, very dumb. She should have guessed that Dane would have hidden a camera in that damn closet. Should have guessed that he’d want all his buddies to see that he’d gotten into curvy Miranda Hill’s panties and made her writhe against his hand in a closet. She hadn’t blown him, either, but no one would believe that from looking at the photos.

And she should have guessed that he’d disappear as soon as the NHL came calling. Who was she to him? No one, it seemed, but a quickie in the closet.