Trial by Fire (10 page)

“We fit,” he murmured, face taut with desire.

“Yes, we do.”

A hand crept under the edge of her T-shirt, skimmed her ribs. “May I touch you?”

“Please, yes!”

His eyes darkened as his palm slid upward, over the plane of her belly, higher still. His fingers brushed the swell of her breasts, a light caress. He lingered, tracing their shape, then rubbed a thumb over one nipple, causing it to peak under the sheer fabric of her bra. First one nipple, then the other. Teasing, rubbing, sending sparks zipping through her limbs. She went boneless at just that slight attention, a sigh of pleasure escaping her lips.

“I want to see you.” Not a question this time. His voice had thickened, husky with arousal, low and seductive.

Kat’s blood sang, pounded in her ears, between her thighs. At her nod, he pushed up the T-shirt. With an expert flick, he opened the front clasp of her bra and parted the silky cups. Cool air kissed her overheated skin, and the dusky rose nipples tightened to perfect cones.

“My God, you’re beautiful.” Touching her with reverence, he brushed one breast with gentle fingers. Kneading, weighing her flesh in his work-roughened palm.

Being exposed like this to him totally turned her on. So did his unguarded expression of awe no man could fake. She arched her back, craving his touch, saying without words she needed more, anything he was willing to give.

Groaning, he accepted, bending his head. “So pretty.” A puff of his warm breath fanned across the sensitive point, followed by a flick of his tongue. “So sweet.”

His mouth claimed her breast, tongue rasping the nipple. Teeth grazing, spiraling the sparks into flames. Every nerve ending leapt in delight as he sucked, paying homage to a feminine part of her Rod had always scorned as too much. Imperfect.

But not for Howard. Unhappy memories of what’s-his-name poofed to dust as her lover’s palm traveled to her tummy. Fingers circled the diamond stud. Toyed with the waistband of her jeans, dipping slightly inside. Asking permission, waiting. Reaching between them, she unbuttoned and unzipped, granting him access. On fire . . .

Capable fingers delved into her panties, swept through the curls at the apex of her thighs. Parted the slick, bare folds of her sex, already wet for him.

“Jesus,” he gasped, pupils dilating. “You shave
there.
”

Pleased by his lusty reaction, she gave a low, throaty laugh. “Personal preference. Less is more and all that. You like?”

“Pretty Katherine, you tie me in knots. Let me make you feel good.”

She took that as an enthusiastic
yes.

It didn’t escape her notice that Howard was deriving satisfaction simply from pleasuring her. A man seeing to her needs above his own. And that was saying a helluva lot, considering the massive proof of his need resting against her side.

Two fingers slid between the lips of her sex, stroking, creating magic unfurling in her center to bloom outward. They thrust inside, then out. In and out. Spreading the dewy moisture, swirling the wet pearl of her clit. Taking time to spoil her as no man had before. Just a simple caress for her alone, only giving.

She moaned, clutching his broad back, her knees falling wide open. His fingers pumped her channel in a faster rhythm, mimicking the action of his absent cock. Showing her an inkling of what could be if she accepted all of him. Driving into her soaking wet sex, the motion and the wicked little sucking sounds setting her entire body ablaze.

“That’s it, let yourself go. Come for me.”

The erotic command, dripping with male dominance, hurled Kat over the edge and into space. She cried out, the orgasm washing though her with blinding intensity. Spasm after spasm shook her as her sex pulsed, far surpassing every secret fantasy she’d ever harbored about how great the right man could make her feel someday.

“Oh, Howard, yes,
yes
!”

Helpless, she gave herself over to him, undulating until he’d wrung every drop from her body. Until she lay spent, vision clearing, gazing up into his very smug face. At last, he slid his hand from her jeans.

“Well!” She smiled, floating in bliss. “So
that’s
what an orgasm is supposed to be like!”

Howard blinked. “What?”

Heat crept up her neck, but she couldn’t hold back the grin. “You heard me.”

“You’ve never had an orgasm before? Be serious.”

“I am, like a heart attack. I’ve, um, gotten as far as the warm, fuzzy feeling, but—” She made a face. “I guess I thought that’s all I was capable of reaching. Until you.”

His brows rose. “Wow, you must’ve dated some real jerks.”

She gave him an arch look, body still humming. “One jerk in particular. I’m starting to realize how much of a shit Rod truly was.”

He snorted. “Rod? Now that’s what I call ironic, especially if he couldn’t make his woman happy.”

“Hmm. Speaking of making your lover happy.” Reaching between them, she caressed the rock-hard erection pushing at his zipper. Lord, she couldn’t wait to get her hands on him. “Your turn, big guy.”

To her surprise, Howard took her wrist and gently removed her hand, bringing it to his lips. Regret shining in his eyes, he kissed her fingers. She realized, despite his arousal, he was letting her off the hook.

Uh-oh.

“Why not? Did I do something wrong?” Self-conscious, she sat up and began to straighten her clothing.

“No, angel. I have my reasons, the first being today was about you. I wanted us to get to know each other a bit, show you a good time.”

“You’ve certainly succeeded! And the other reasons? ”
God, please don’t let him say it’s not working for him. That he’ll call sometime when we both know he won’t and—

“I believe we have the start of something special between us, Kat,” he said softly. “I want us to get off on the right foot.”

Relief and joy turned her muscles to jelly. Thank goodness they were still sitting. “Me, too.” Unable to keep from touching him, she reached out to explore his rugged face. She traced the scar at his temple, the line of his strong jaw, the fullness of his sensual lips. “I know we just met, but I feel like I found a missing part of myself. Crazy, huh?”

Well, if any admission was going to send a man screaming for parts unknown, that ought to do the trick. Instead, Howard stayed put, his expression open. Points for the big guy.

“Not to me, because I feel the same way. But I won’t lie to you about where my life is right now. I need to explain, then you should take some time to think about what I said before we go any further.”

Oh, boy. Here comes the proverbial brick over the skull.

“Go ahead.” She kept her expression neutral.
Just don’t make me deduct points.

Stretching his long legs out in front of him, he hesitated. Groped for the right words. “I’m not looking for a one-night stand, Kat.”

“Good news, otherwise I’d have to send you home with a serious case of blue balls.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “I’m not implying you would’ve settled for meaningless sex, either. If I’d believed that, we wouldn’t be here. I’m not in my twenties anymore, and I’m done with feeling cheap and used.”

He was so serious, she couldn’t resist teasing him. “Gosh, isn’t that usually the woman’s line?”

“Very funny.” He plucked at a blade of dead grass, staring at her thoughtfully. “Being alone sucks. Don’t you ever get tired of waking up to the same four empty walls, day after day?”

“Sure, who doesn’t? Somehow, though, I have trouble picturing you all by your lonesome.”

Even as she spoke, she began to suspect Howard was referring to more than being without female companionship, whether he realized it or not. No, his loneliness ran much deeper, had a wider scope than most people’s. Considering what he’d revealed about his childhood—and he’d likely left out the most horrific parts—a person didn’t have to be a genius to figure why a great catch like Howard was still single.

Any good teacher could tell you an abused child will carry feelings of inadequacy and fear of abandonment into adulthood. In many cases, all his life. She could be wrong about this in regard to Howard, but she didn’t think so. His next words seemed to confirm her suspicions.

“It’s easy to remain alone when you aim low. No strings, easy sex. Then when she leaves, your heart doesn’t take a beating in the process.”

“And how well did that theory work for you?”

“Can’t you guess?” By now, he was picking his patch of grass bald, studying the decimated spot as though it held a profound secret. “One day, I woke up next to a stranger and hated what my personal life had become. Instead of a stud, I felt like the world’s biggest slut. I was miserable, and I wanted
more.
So I asked her to stay for breakfast.”

“What did she say?”

“She said, ‘I don’t eat breakfast, Harry.’”

“Ouch.”

He gave a humorless laugh. “Lesson learned, right? That was the last time I was with anybody, over a year ago.”

“A year! Wow.” She joined him in his therapeutic weed plucking, thrilled by his self-imposed abstinence and doing her best not to show it. “Tell me, what great wisdom did your year bring? What’s changed?”

Scooting close, he ran a palm down her arm. “I met you.”

A shiver of delight zinged along her spine, tempered by a healthy dose of caution and her own hard lessons. “Which means what, exactly?”

“Do you like bacon?” A small smile played about his sensual lips.

“And eggs.” She arched a brow. “I also like waffles, French toast, and pancakes. Not all in one morning, of course.”

“Good to know. Movies, dinner, long walks in the park?”

“Check, check, and check. Okay, what’s the catch?”

The question seemed to surprise him, but he quickly recovered. “No catch. We muddle through this thing together, like regular people, pass or fail. Obviously, I have a huge learning curve with the long-term deal, and I have to admit the idea scares me a little. You might get tired of putting up with me, but I’m willing to try, for you.” Leaning forward, he gave her a slow, sexy kiss. “What do you think?”

“Mmm. I’d say the idea has promise,” she mused, warming inside.

His gaze darkened. “There are things you don’t know about me. Things that might change your mind—”

“Relax, Howie.” She patted his hand. “It’s a little early for the buzz kill.”

“But—”

“Are you wanted by the IRS or FBI?”

“Um, no.”

“Being sued for child support by a former fling?”

He flinched. “Not even possible.”

“Do you have warts on your ass or a penis the size of a number-two pencil?”

Howard’s mouth began to curve upward in response to her teasing. “
Definitely
not.”

“STDs?”

He laughed aloud, threw a wad of dead grass at her head. “Brat.”

“Then the rest can wait. All in good time, right?”

Howard studied her for a long moment, sobering. “I suppose it can,” he said, sounding relieved. He stood, offered his hand. “I guess we should go clean up our mess.”

With a twinge of disappointment, she accepted his hand and pulled herself up. Stalling a bit, she shook the grass out of her hair and brushed off her jeans. Though they’d been gone quite a while, the hours had passed quickly. The sun was beginning to dip in the sky. A wonderful interlude, over much too soon.

She followed him down the path to their picnic site. He scooped up the sack with their leftovers, tossed the empty water bottles inside, and retrieved his denim jacket.

“Ready?” His expression was closed, unreadable.

“Sure.” Not.

On the walk back to the Harley, Howard went quiet. He dumped the sack into a garbage can by the parking lot, but at least he took her hand in his.

What was going on in his head? The second thoughts of a serial bachelor? Or was he brooding about his secrets and how she might react once they got to know each other better?

Everyone has a past. Besides, the lieutenant had been nothing but thoughtful and kind. He’d brought her pleasure all afternoon, while denying himself the one thing she knew for a fact he wanted.

Howard Paxton was a
good
man.

Too good to be true.

They walked right past him. Never noticed death lounging at a table no more than twenty feet from the lieutenant’s ride.

“Well, looky here.” Frank grinned, lighting a smoke. “Caught up in paradise already.”

Almost made him feel sorry for the big sonofabitch. He knew firsthand the hell a man’s faithless whore could put him through.

Course, sympathy for the almighty Howard Paxton might come easier if the bastard weren’t responsible for every goddamned thing going to shit. All his fault.

He’d pay. Watching him suffer as Frank fucked over his life was going to be a riot. Seeing the shock on his face when he figured out who and why, as satisfying as a pair of lips sucking his cock.

Watching the horror fade from the motherfucker’s eyes as he died, orgasmic.

“Play the game, Frankie boy.”

All things in good fuckin’ time.

6

Kat.

Sweet Jesus Christ, she was good for him.