Friday, August 22nd – 10:53 pm
At the sound of his name, Luys turned.
The porch light illuminated Avery standing in front of the entrance to her condo. Several wisps of hair fluttered around her flushed face from an outside breeze.
He quickly searched her features, the black jeans and t-shirt, the gray athletic shoes. No bruises. No scratches. “Are you okay?”
“I’m the one that should be asking you that.” She remained outside on the condo’s welcome mat.
He then noticed the small canister fisted in her hand and suspected it was a personal defense spray or taser of some type. “I was concerned when I knocked and you didn’t answer. I thought of the murder and—”
“Reacted?”
“Yes.”
“I’m fine. And safe.”
But she didn’t look fine. She looked winded and alarmed.
“Has something happened?
“No,” she quickly retorted.
She was lying. She was not good at it, but he did not pry further. Maybe in time, she would trust him.
“The door.” Eyes widening, she ran one hand across the side of the threshold. The metal strike plate rested drunkenly at an angle, wood frayed along one section of the jam, and both screws protruded from the side of the door at odd angles. “You broke it?” Her gaze flashed to him and back to the door. “Why?”
He grimaced. “As I had said, I was concerned...”
She worried her lip as she stepped inside and attempted to shut the door. After the fourth try, she gave up and let the door creep open, leaving an inch wide gap.
“It won’t close,” he stated the obvious. By overreacting, he had placed her in a vulnerable spot. He had also ruined the door to the point that repairing the jam would require more than a screwdriver and a few extra screws. “I’ll call a maintenance company.”
“No, I already have one on my phone.” As she dialed the number, she paced back and forth. Then she sank down on a living room chair and stared at the door. After a moment, she left a message. “I don't know how long they’ll be.”
“They might not respond until tomorrow.”
“That’s not going to work. I can’t sleep here with the door broken.” She worried her lip again. “Not when someone was just murdered.”
“No, you can’t.”
“I know, it’s—”
“Dangerous,” they said simultaneously.
“I dislike the idea of you waiting here even if a company gets here within the next several hours. You must stay at my place for the night. You’ll be safe there. It’s the least I can do.”
She looked everywhere but at him as she stuffed her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. “I don’t know. I can always get a room at a nearby hotel. There should be a vacancy.”
“And an added expense. I have an extra room.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I will, of course, pay for whatever damages that are incurred.”
He should not be trying to convince her to stay under the same roof. Having her sleeping in the next room would try his self-restraint. The flawless complexion of her skin, her light blue eyes with flecks of gray, and the way her lips curved to one side when she smiled. Then there was her independence and a vulnerability she failed to shield completely. If he were not careful, he would find himself addicted, vanquished, undone. Five years of celibacy magnified this growing need and longing.
He needed to be stronger. His background and history demanded more of him.
None of this would have happened if he had remained calm. He should have waited, been patient, checked back on her instead of rampaging into her home. This caring for her was not good for either of them. It was dangerous. It was even deadly.
“At least stay until they can fix the door. It’s not safe to be alone without the protection of a locked door. Not after...”
She searched his face with intense eyes. Something in his expression must have reassured her because she nodded. “Okay. Give me a second. I’ll get a change of clothes.”
After disappearing into her room, she came out and patted a large bag slung over one shoulder. “Just a few valuables in case someone decides to enter and steal some things.” She made a face. “If they want to take my silverware, they’re welcome to it. Pretty much everything in here is replaceable. Thank God for insurance.”
When she brushed past him into his condo, her scent wrapped around him while her proximity threw him off balance. He was not used to sharing his quarters with anyone, never mind a person of the opposite sex. No one had stepped over the threshold in this home other than an occasional home repair company. With Avery feet away, the rooms seemed far smaller than a few hours ago.
As she stepped deeper into his home, a glass case on a table against the wall caught her attention. She paused and peered inside. Luys stepped up beside her and remained silent as she stared down at the large silver cross on top of a deep red velvet cloth with a thick chain wrapped to one side. In its center rested a large, roughly faceted ruby about the size of a thumbprint. The design around the stone was well worn, but a person could distinguish several vines twining from a primitive face and down the cross’ four arms. He suspected she found the face grotesque with the ruby protruding from its open mouth.
She glanced over to him. “This is really unusual.”
“It has been in the family for a very long time.”
“It’s beautiful in an ugly sort of way.”
“Thank you, I think.” He smiled.
Avery chuckled. “Just being honest.”
She leaned over the medallion. She probably found it strange that he had it under glass and a focal point in the room, but there had been no time to move it to a private part of the condo.
She turned and faced him. “Do you know how old it is?”
“No,” he lied, deciding the truth would generate more questions from her and lies from him.
“Well, it looks like something you’d find in a museum. It has to be older than a good century. If I had to guess, I’d say the medieval period, but it could just as easily be a good replica of an artifact since I’m no historian. I’m sure it has a great deal of history if you have it protected under glass. Do you know much of its history?”
“No. I’m sure it is of little consequence,” he lied again. “Our ancestors were a religious lot but not very adventurous.”
As she continued to stare at the medallion, he took in her bowed head. Her auburn hair glowed like warm cinnamon against the light of a nearby lamp as it curved over her shoulder and flowed like liquid halfway down her back. Her t-shirt clung to her breasts and abdomen, while her black jeans, torn at one knee, clung lovingly to her thighs and hips. Her figure was curvy but athletic and a perfect fit in his arms.
He thought back to their kiss and its brevity. He wanted to kiss her again, but this time not light and fleeting, but rather filled with lust and need.
Her scent wrapped around him again. Sunlight, flowers, and a hint of something earthy. He stopped himself from moving closer, and the spell collapsed as she stepped into the center of the living room.
Avery dropped her bag by the sofa. “Oh, I forgot you had a kitten!”
Eyes softening and teeth flashing a smile, she scooped the long-haired tortoiseshell in her arms and rubbed the kitten's chin with an index finger. Then she paused, her hand hovering over the cat’s bandaged tail as she glanced his way. “What’s wrong with him/her?”
“She’s fine now. They had to dock her tail at the vet.”
“Why?”
“I found her on the side of the road on my way to Flagstaff. The vet seems to think someone threw her out of a moving car with the injuries she sustained. Clover will be fine, though. It turned out her tail was the only major damage that needed to be fixed.”
A look of utter disgust washed across her delicate features. “Seriously. Who does that?”
“Not someone I would consider knowing.” He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “There’s much darkness and hate out there, all wrapped up in fear. I find the idea of doing such a thing unfathomable.”
“And why the name Clover?”
“I like to think she found a four-leaf clover when I found her. Or maybe it’s the other way around.” With a self-deprecating smile, he shrugged again. But in truth, he’d always had a fondness for animals. They were honest and rarely killed their own.
She gently stroked Clover’s head. The cat’s purr rumbled from her tiny chest. “If you ever need someone to cat sit, I’d be more than happy.”
“I might take you up on that,” he replied, unable to take his gaze off the way she stroked the kitten. “Sometimes I have to travel for work. And I need to visit my brother one day soon. I have a fake rock in the gravel by the door with a key. You can let yourself in, and I’m sure Clover would want the company.”
“Ahh, giving away secrets. You trust me not to steal anything in your place?” she teased with a smile.
His gaze lingered on the way she fondled Clover. “I have a good idea I can trust you. Cats are an excellent judge of character.”
Her smile dimmed. “I used to have a dog.”
He waited, hoping she’d reveal a bit about herself. He sensed she didn’t open up to many people and was pleased when she expanded.
“His name was Dozer. A golden.” She smiled fondly down at the cat. “We were the best of buddies for the longest time. Then the vet diagnosed him with congenital heart failure, and I eventually had to have him euthanized.”
“I’m sorry. Pets become part of the family.” He walked over and rubbed the kitten’s ear with a finger and thumb. “And no interest in another?”
Her brow creased. “No. I got far too attached to him. I don’t want to go through that pain again. I know he was only a dog but having another wouldn’t be fair.”
“Fair? Why?”
She flushed, looking disconcerted. “I don’t have time for one. I’m always at work. A dog deserves to go out for walks. He deserves more—”
She abruptly stopped, shook her head, then stared up at him with an earnest expression and another emotion he couldn’t read. Disappointment? Regret? He wasn’t sure. Then something changed in their depths, and her hand stilled on the kitten.
His pulse broke into a full-blown gallop, and his groin tightened. The auburn waves with cinnamon undertones framed a face both beautiful and vulnerable. Their fingers brushed as he took Clover from her hands and placed the kitten on the ground. When he rose, the distance between them somehow seemed to have diminished. Inches separated them, not feet.
She did not step away when he skimmed an index finger along several strands of hair by the long sweep of her neck. When he edged closer and brushed a thumb over her full bottom lip, she still didn’t retreat. He noticed her hitch of breath, her shiver, and the almost indiscernible lift of her chin.
Desire, thick, palatable, and unmistakable, animated from her eyes.
He dipped his head and caught her mouth in a slow, exploratory kiss—a glide of skin back and forth as their breath mingled.
Her fingers clutched his upper arm as she leaned into him, her breasts first pressing against his chest and then her hips molding against his own. With her other hand, she grasped his nape and slid her fingers into his hair, urging his head lower.
“I’ve waited for so long...” he murmured against her lips.
“How long?” she breathed against his mouth.
“From the moment I saw you.”
“Why didn’t you do something—say something?”
“Because...because the timing was all wrong.”
“Why do—”
He cut off her words with a deep kiss. He didn’t want to talk, and he especially didn’t want to think. He wanted to ignore his thoughts—the smart and ethical notion of walking away, of turning his back, of keeping away from Avery.
But...
He groaned and urged her closer. With a shaking hand, he ran a palm over her spine, down the dip at the small of her back, and still lower until he palmed her ass. He couldn’t get enough of her.
She moaned, lifting her other hand to anchor his head as she met his kiss with equal fever, fitting her hips perfectly against his.
Before he lost it, he drew back, dragged in a ragged breath, and muttered against her temple. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“To hell with good ideas.”
At her words and the heat in her eyes, his chest expanded, his erection thickened, and intense hunger swept through his insides, painful and exciting at the same time. At the way her fingers massaged his scalp, curled through his hair, she’d turned him into a junky and complete addict for her touch, for her kiss.
She tugged his head down again to meet his lips in a hot, mind-altering kiss. He did not fight her, did not push her away. He did what he promised he would not do.
He caved to his body’s needs, to the longing of being with Avery, of feeling connected to another human, no matter how brief.
She pulled back. “Your bedroom?”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he tugged Avery toward the hallway, down the hall, and into his bedroom. He did not bother with lights. The moonlight would be sufficient.
He then gently draped her across the bed, where her hair fanned across the comforter. The mattress dipped as he followed her across the bed until he cupped his knees against her outer thighs and eased down over her body to kiss her again.
She groaned into his mouth and arched her hips against his. His whole body shook with need as he caught the hem of her shirt. She lifted her arms to help him tug it free. The garment fell to the side. Her bra came next. Moonlight, though faint, caressed her body in silver-blue light and illuminated the beauty of her breasts, their fullness, their taut peaks.
More clothes followed. Then there was skin. Blessed beautiful skin. Silken legs against his rougher thighs and calves. Arms, stomach, hips, everywhere gorgeous, impossibly erotic, silky skin. Nothing compared to a woman’s body, a woman’s passion, or a woman’s touch. A woman like Avery.
He caressed the sweep of her hips, the sharp angles of her knees, elbows, shoulders, and the softer curves that molded over his hard body. Every move and touch from him dragged a groan, a sigh, a gasp of pleasure from her lips. She made him feel like an expert when he was a fraud and an amateur.
Cradled between Avery’s legs, resting the bulk of his weight on his elbows, he stared down at her lips, parted enough to show the edge of her teeth and tongue. They were perfect. Swollen. Kissable... God’s blood. Teeth gritted, slowly, carefully, he entered her. As his gaze drifted to her eyes, he eased deeper into her body. She was tight, fitting around him in such a way that it tore the breath from his lungs. He was so close to coming, and he had done nothing, not really.
Eyes widening, she gasped, then stilled.
He bunched the sheets within a fist. “Am I hurting you?”
“No... no...” Avery breathed, shocked he would think that. “It’s just that—It’s just that you feel so good!” she admitted in a whisper as she adjusted to his thickness and felt like she was going to explode with pleasure.
He touched his brow to hers, the act surprisingly intimate and tender, before kissing her temple, the corner of her lips, then nibbling an erotic path along her jawline to the pulse below her ear for a moment. Then he returned to her mouth, sliding his tongue inside, wet, hot, urgent, and breathtaking.
When he adjusted his hips again, she sucked in a breath and arched again into him, loving how he filled her, moved inside her.
Then matching each beat of her heart, his pace quickened. She grabbed his shoulders, dug her fingers into his skin, and wrapped both legs around his hips, gasping at how the movement pulled him deeper into her body.
Slowly, he moved, each thrust and retreat measured and expert in dragging out her body’s response. She wanted to climb inside him. Desire clutched at her insides, stoked a mind-numbing need. She cried out, clawing at his shoulders, his hair, his back, tightening her legs around him as a climax roared through her, sending waves ricocheting through her limbs and tightening her body until she thought she’d explode from the pleasure.
Seconds later, he clutched her hips, his fingers almost painful as he gasped and shuddered, his back slick with sweat bowing beneath her palms.
Her pounding heart calmed, the blinding hot passion moments before eased, then abruptly cooled. Luys twisted to the side and pulled her along with him to where her head rested against his shoulder. Being in his embrace felt too good, too intimate, and wrong. Avery eased away from his body and stared up at the ceiling. The enormity of what she had done smacked her hard. There was no alcohol, no traumatic event, or moment that gave her an excuse…