Voyeur (29 page)

Tommy's sake, he hoped maybe this was that change of pace Tommy had needed to get back in the game.

Propping up on one elbow, he shifted his gaze down to the woman beside him. She'd seemed so cool tonight—startlingly so—but now that they

were alone, he had to ask. "You stil okay, baby?"

Her expression looked no less than dreamy as she nodded. "That was .. . unbelievable. I've never . . . felt so ful ."

He couldn't hide his knowing grin. "I knew you'd love playing with two cocks."

"And in the end," she said, "when I looked at you, I swear your eyes fucked me as deeply as Tommy's cock. When I was between you both, on the floor, it was .. .
perfect
Like being fucked from the front
and
the back, those two beautiful cocks rubbing
in
me,
on
me, exactly where I needed them."

He couldn't help chuckling inside—he'd never seen Laura quite so animated or unguarded when it came to talking about such extreme sex. He had

a feeling she was stil a little drunk—on the wine or on him and Tommy, he didn't know—but he enjoyed her exuberance.

"You, my naughty little girl, were astounding." He leaned in for a short, sweet kiss.

"I just sort of... let myself go, I guess," she admitted happily.

Peering down at her in the firelight, he couldn’t help but think back—not only on this night, but on al the days and nights leading up to this. Normal y, he would keep this inside, but he knew he was a little drunk, too—on the wine
and
the woman—and hel , if Laura could be this open, so could he.

"Want to hear a secret, snowflake?" he whispered.

She nodded, smiling up at him through sleepy eyes.

"You excite me more than any woman ever has. And probably more than any woman ever wil ." What he'd wanted to give to her,
she'd
given to
him.

The sun shone through the window the next morning, forcing Laura’s eyes open. She lay in bed naked next to Braden, who was already awake and

peering over at her, his dark gaze gorgeous as ever, his hair rumpled and jaw covered in stubble. It was the kind of vision that made a woman

wonder if she was dreaming.

Which made her think back to ... something else that had seemed so surreal it
had
to have been a dream. Last night. "That didn’t real y happen, did it?"

Braden’s eyes widened with worry. "Oh God. Please don’t tel me you’re going to freak out and go al regretful on me."

She drew in her breath and stared up at the ceiling fan whirring above them. It
had
real y happened. She'd fucked two men's brains out last night.

Wow.

But before she proceeded to freaking out, she made herself stop and think through the situation. It had happened, and there was no taking it back

now. And she'd
let
it happen, had
wanted
it to happen. And it had been the most delicious experience of her life, no denying it. She didn't think she'd ever felt more powerful, more feminine, more desired, more like a woman of her own than she had last night.

She pul ed her gaze back down to the handsome man at her side. "A week ago, I couldn't have handled that, no way. But somehow, now, because

of you—I can. And I doubt its anything I'l ever do again, but I'm glad I did it, I'm glad you pushed me to. You made me feel things I never would have without you."

A slow smile unfurled across his face. “I’m so glad, baby," he said, pul ing her into his arms. "Because I want you to feel
everything.
I want you to be a woman who isn't afraid to seek her pleasure."

Despite herself, a slightly sheepish giggle leaked free. "Believe it or not, before we met, I
did
have sex, you know. I'm not
totally
as backward and old-fashioned as I probably seemed to you when we met."

"A lot?" he asked, looking curious.

"Wel . . . with guys I was in relationships with, yeah, sure." "But was it . . . like it is with me?"

She looked into his eyes, trying to read the real question there, trying to interpret his heart. But she didn't want to make the mistake of seeing more than actual y existed. "If you mean were there vibrators and third parties and shaving involved—you already know the answer to that."

"That's
not
what I mean. What I'm asking is—was it as . . .
intense
as it is between us?"

Intense.
That was putting it mildly. She shook her head. Then looked up at him, half teasing, half not. "You may have ruined me for al other men."

There was no mistaking his arrogant expression. "That wasn't my goal, but ..."

"But?"

He grinned hotly. "But I like thinking I've given you experiences no other guy ever has."

A short, wild laugh escaped her. "Congratulations, you have— about a hundred times over. Which reminds me, you don't have any other surprises

up your sleeve for me, do you? Other kinky activities, lingerie, toys?"

Stil smiling, he shook his head. "Afraid not. Unless you want me to come up with some."

"No shoes?" She raised her eyebrows. "Not that I want them, but you once insisted on my shoe size, so I expected you to haul them out at some point."

He gave his head a matter-of-fact tilt. "You said you'd throw them out into the snow. I didn’t want to waste a perfectly good pair of shoes."

She cast a smirking grin in reply just as his cel phone buzzed— across the room on the desk next to his laptop, where she guessed he’d left it

yesterday when he'd been catching up on work. She watched as he flipped back the covers and padded across the room to answer, so beautiful y

naked that her mouth began to water.

"Braden Stone," he said upon flipping the phone open.

She could tel it was a business cal , not only from the discussion but from the very tone he took—commanding and strong and authoritative—and

she understood
exactly
how he succeeded in toppling corporations. "That's not acceptable," he was saying, "and you're going to make it right.

Today. Within the hour, in fact."

She bit her lip, realizing that watching him give someone hel on the phone while he was peering out the window stark naked was perhaps, oddly,

one of the sexiest things she'd ever beheld. She was also forced to realize that what she'd shared with him last night had been no less than

profound.

She'd been trying to convince herself al along that this was just sex, just fun, just physical pleasure. But the worlds he'd opened to her now, the

generosity he'd shown her, the way he'd encouraged her and excited her and made her feel safe no matter what.. . She sighed, knowing beyond a

doubt that she was changed forever because of him. A sobering realization.

"Get back to me," he said, "and meanwhile, I'l cal Phil ips and First National." He flipped the phone shut and turned to face her, his voice returning to "normal Braden."

"I can't believe this, but it looks like
I’m
the one who has to work today. Some complications with a pending merger, and I need to make some cal s."

Laura drew in her breath. "It’s just as wel . I need to write, too."

She didn’t mention that after what they'd shared last night, he probably could have final y talked her into spending the day with him, in bed or out.

She didn’t mention it because this was a sign—a sign that she simply couldn’t let herself get any more attached to him than she already was.

She knew leaving would be difficult now, no two ways about it, but she couldn’t wal ow in that—she had to be a big girl. And working—as usual—

would be a good distraction from al the emotions swirling inside her.

"I have time for a quick breakfast, though, if you do," he offered.

She couldn’t help smiling. Distraction could start in a little while. For now, she was going to relish the opportunity to cling to him for just a little longer after last nights intimacies. She sat up and tossed the covers aside. "I think I could squeeze it in. Want to make it
together?"

He flashed a devilish grin. "Baby, I
always
like making it with
you."

Over an easy breakfast of scrambled eggs and English muffins, Laura felt his gaze.

"You look deep in thought."

She switched her glance from the snowscape out the window to the man across from her, caught. "Guess I'm stil just stunned by what I did last

night."

He lowered his chin, his expression chiding her.

"Don’t worry—stil no regrets. I'm just thinking how very
un-me
it was. For you, I guess it's no big deal, but for me, it's ... big."

She couldn't help being surprised when Braden set down his fork and stood up, walking around behind her chair to bend down and slide his arms

around her. He spoke softly in her ear. "What you did—what
we
did—is okay, honey. It didn't hurt anybody, it felt good, and hel , it might have even
helped
somebody."

Laura looked up at him, surprised.

"Last night might have gotten Tommy out of his funk over Marianne. He hadn’t had sex with anyone since then."

"Oh," she heard herself murmur.

Wow, was it possible their ménage a trois had real y held some humanitarian value? She was letting sarcasm taint her musings, but it
was
nice to think maybe it had helped Tommy overcome his heartbreak a little.

A few minutes later, they cleared the dishes together, then parted ways with a kiss, and Laura padded to the computer as she watched her lover

disappear up the stairs to his own work.

As she pul ed up her book’s file, she found herself realizing that Braden’s mere hug had assuaged her lingering concerns over her actions,

somehow made it al better. But where would she be when his hugs were nowhere to be found?

The truth was—if she and Braden had had a future, she wasn’t so sure she'd have any concerns over last night at al . Heel made their threesome

seem
more
than okay—he'd made it seem truly
right
So if anything was real y bothering her, it was likely the fact That she’d had the most intimate, outrageous sex of her life with two guys she would soon never see again.

Be a big girl,
she reminded herself.
People have affairs all the time and don’t self-destruct over it.
People probably had ménages a trois al the time as
parts
of their affairs without fal ing apart. She didn’t personal y know any of the latter, but she was sure they existed. She'd al owed herself into this world of sexual decadence—now she had to come out the other side unscathed.

But she feared last night had bonded her with Braden in an almost frightening way. She'd had to trust him so much to let herself go to such

extremes. She'd had to open herself so deeply, uncovering parts of herself
she'd
never even seen, let alone shared with anyone else. And when she took the time to remember and realize al she'd shared with him, she couldn't deny the ugly truth: leaving him behind was going to hurt even more

than she'd ever imagined.

* * *

kil er?"

She gasped, and he squeezed her hand.

"I'm kidding, honey. I'm kidding.” Then he added a knee pat for good measure. "Relax and tel me what's on your mind."

She let out a sigh, then admitted what she'd done. "I went to Aunt Mimsey this afternoon, and I told her to run. I told her she was a suspect

and that, although the evidence is thin, the cops know." When the authorities had come to investigate Hawthorne's murder; everyone in the

Dorchesters' household, plus Riley, had been thoroughly interviewed. It had come up that both Mr. Dorchester and Edna the housekeeper

had heard Hawthorne yel ing at Aunt Mimsey and later found out how angry she was about it. Riley had been forced to admit the same. And

although no one claimed to have
liked
Hawthorne, Aunt Mimsey was the only person in the vicinity who'd been found to have a grudge

against him.

Sloane didn't appear in the least surprised. "How did she respond?"

"Very calmly. She refused to be frightened, simply stating that she hadn't done anything wrong."

"Do you believe her?"

Riley hesitated. She could stil scarcely comprehend that anyone could think Aunt Mimsey a kil er

Sloane lifted her chin with one bent finger "You can tel me, Riley. It'l stay between us—I promise."

Riley's heart warmed. She'd been so afraid Sloane would want to hold Aunt Mimsey accountable. To him, she probably seemed like nothing

more than a dotty old woman—he had no way of knowing how loving and kind she could be.

"I real y can't fathom Aunt Mimsey hurting anyone," Riley said, "even if certain evidence does point in her direction. She can barely stand to kil an insect. In fact, she got into a horrible argument with Hawthorne last summer when he was using those spiked mole traps to stop an

infestation, insisting that they were cruel and—" Riley stopped, cringed. "I just incriminated her more, didn't I?"

He shrugged. "I'l keep the mole trap incident to myself."

"Thank you," she said, reaching up to give him a short kiss— which quickly turned passionate and left Riley breathless when it was through.

"But between you and me," Sloane said, "I'm afraid the cops may start taking a closer look at Mimsey soon, out of desperation, if no other clues turn up."

"Then we have to find more clues," she replied vehemently.

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"I have an idea." She lifted one finger in the air and offered a short, triumphant nod.

Sloane looked doubtful and spoke dryly. "I can't wait to hear."

"We stay out here al night."

He blinked in the moonlight. "And hope the clue fairy drops a few on us?"

"I was thinking," she began, "about al the things we've found—the stolen items and Hawthorne's body. When were they put in the places we found them—around the yard and in the secret garden? It couldn't have been during the day—because we've been out quite frequently in the