The Keeper

Published by Phaze Books Also by Jane Leopold Quinn

Windy City Love Affair

This is an explicit and erotic novel intended for the enjoyment of adult readers. Please keep out of the hands of children.

www.Phaze.com

The Keeper A novella of erotic romance by

JANE LEOPOLD QUINN

The Keeper © 2008-9 by Jane Leopold Quinn All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

A Phaze Production Phaze Books 6470A Glenway Avenue, #109 Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222 Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC. To order additional copies of this book, contact: [email protected] www.Phaze.com Cover art © 2009 Celia Kyle Edited by Michelle Dowdey and Will Belegon eBook ISBN-13: 978-1-60659-131-4 First Edition – March, 2009 Printed in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Thank you to Judi David for the plot and character brainstorming to make this an even better story than it had been.

Chapter One Pete Rayne didn’t run from the thought of getting married. He just hadn’t met the right woman yet. He always figured, not to sound incestuous, that he’d marry a girl like his sisters. Blonde, blue-eyed, sweet and innocent looking. He never, in a million years, believed he’d seriously fall for the exact opposite. Sharon Timmons was someone else’s girlfriend, though. His partner’s, to be exact; off limits, untouchable, taboo. So, he didn’t touch. He just occasionally fantasized about her. However, the night his partner, Hank Crossman, followed the new woman in town, Nickie Grace, out of Nook’s, Pete knew it was time to make his move on Sharon. “Well,” he said to Sharon, “I guess it’s just you and me. Do you want to go home or stay a while longer?” She concentrated on drawing circles in the wet rings on the bar. “Like I didn’t see that coming a mile off.” “Dance with me, Share?” He couldn’t stand the dejected look on her face. “Oh, that’s all right.” Her brows drew together in a frown. “You don’t need to…” “Don’t think about it right now, honey. Let’s just dance.” He brushed her jaw, then raised his hand to her hair, and twisted his finger into the curls around her ear, his gaze following the movement. Pure silk, soft as clouds, he had to clench his fist to keep from clutching the strands and burying his face in her hair. Instead, he escorted her to the dance floor and wrapped her in his arms. He couldn’t believe it. It was just like his fantasies, except they involved being naked, in bed, with her on top. She folded into his embrace as if she belonged there. Her delicate body with its high, firm breasts, felt like heaven against his

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chest. Unbelievably, his arms shook more than they should have, so he tightened them and hunched over as if protecting her. He rested his cheek against her hair and pulled her even closer, one hand around her waist, the other cupping her nape. She must have just washed her hair because even in the smoky bar, the scent of it was fresh and lemony. Every delicious inch of her—breasts, belly, and thighs—crushed against him as they swayed to the music. There was no way she could mistake his sexual interest since his cock had grown hard and heated, but he tried his damnedest not to grind it into the cushion of her body. “Sharon, look at me,” he commanded in a husky whisper, pulling gently on her hair to tip up her chin, his breathing none too steady. “Share?” He tugged again. Crap. She’s shivering. Is she crying? She finally lifted her eyes to his. “No, no, I’m all right.” He could barely hear her over the jukebox. “You don’t have to do this.” “I don’t have to do anything, Share, but I want to kiss you.” Hank was an asshole for dumping her publicly like this. For so many reasons, some he didn’t quite understand, he wanted to make it better for her. They swayed to the beat of a Joe Nichols ballad. His chest expanded against her breasts. “Pete, it’s…” He lowered his head and murmured into her ear. “But, if you want, I’ll wait.” “Wait?” She tensed, pulled her arms from around his neck, and grasped his forearms. Her small hands on his arms made him feel strong and protective. “Until tomorrow night. How about we go to a movie tomorrow night?” He held back from taking advantage of how close his lips were to her ear. He really wanted to kiss the pretty little shell, and, oh fuck, he wanted to suck her earlobe between his teeth and bite… She clung to him. The noise and smoke of the bar disappeared, and it was as if they were alone. Some singer a long time ago said dancing was like making love standing up. Man, was he right. Maybe she’d like to dance naked. He groaned, the sound reverberating in his chest.

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When the song ended, and he reluctantly came to his senses, he steered her to the door and out into the steamy night. He was all heat, hot from the night and hot from Sharon. Extremely aroused, he stood very close to her at her car door, balancing one hand on the roof of the car and resting the other on her waist. She toyed with the buttons on his shirt. He held his breath when she pressed her palms against his chest, then lost it when she brushed her knuckles on his belly, just above his belt buckle. Her expression was surprisingly shy, which seemed odd for the experienced woman he thought she was. Is she playing me? Her fingers resting on his belt, she whispered, “Do we have to wait for tomorrow night for the kiss?” Her lips parted and pursed, her gaze focused on his mouth, and that was all she wrote. Instantly, his mouth connected full on with hers. Lightly—intense but delicate—he brushed his lips back and forth, learning her, tasting her. He fought his desire for more. He wanted to plunder, but the softness of her response kept him in check. He let her lead the way and kept his eyes narrowly open to watch her expression. Her eyes popped open. With a shivering sigh, her breasts rose against his chest. The kiss ended. They separated, both gasping raggedly. What’s wrong with me? He’d been turned on before, but he’d never had this much trouble breathing. She cupped his cheek, scraping her nails in his late night whiskers. “Wow,” she said. “Yeah,” he responded, feeling distinctly off kilter. She smiled at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow night?” “You bet,” he replied huskily. “I’ll call you.” Bracing his legs, he watched her pull out of the parking lot and drive down the street. “Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath. “I gotta talk to Hank.” There was no way he was going to let his partner have her back. Not after that kiss. **** “Hey, Rayne, it sure looked like you were gettin’ some last night.”

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Pete was barely in the door of the sheriff’s station before fellow Deputy Ron Zayboh opened his big mouth. He motioned the other man down the hallway toward the john. Zayboh followed, probably thinking he was going to get some juicy details. “If I’d known Hank was dumping the beautiful Ms. Timmons, I might ha…” Pete didn’t raise his voice, didn’t so much as put a hand on Ron, but just gave him a shoulder butt into the concrete block wall. “I’m not real fond of hearing that kind of talk, Zayboh,” he growled sotto voce. “So, shut the fuck up about Sharon.” “Hey, man, calm down.” Ron held his hands up, palms out in surrender. “It’s all right.” “No, it’s not all right. I don’t know what you and Hank talked about, but around me, she’s off limits to you. All of you, for that matter. Got it?” “Yeah, sure, man. I’m sorry. I was just jokin’ around.” Ron wasn’t a bad guy. In fact, Pete had also thought Sharon was easy. Any woman with a body like hers was, a gorgeous face, and who dated a lot just had to be easy. The question was why he was getting all bent out of shape about it. Because now she’s dating me, that's why. If the guys didn’t treat her with respect, well, then he’d beat them to a bloody pulp. “Okay, well, no more joking. Treat her respectfully.” He shot Ron a final glare. “Hey, no problem, Pete.” “Okay,” he grumbled in response. “O-kay.” Ron turned on his heel and hooked his thumbs in his gun belt in a show of nonchalance as he strolled back to the squad room. Zayboh had the last word, but since it was okay, Pete let it go. Now he wondered how many of the guys had she slept with. Hank, for sure. Well, he wasn’t going to ask her. Whom she’d been with before they hooked up was none of his business. Not that he liked it. It just was none of his business. Nevertheless, Hank had better not think he’s getting her back. Speaking of Hank, where the hell is he? They had rats to deal with. The night before, after Sharon drove off, the sheriff’s

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dispatcher had sent Pete to Nickie Grace’s house. Someone had peppered her porch with dead rats. She’d given in and spent the night at Hank’s house. Maybe he’d gotten lucky.

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Chapter Two Warm chocolate drizzled on her lips, the sweet, thick fudge sliding over her tongue and down her throat. She licked her lips and moaned at the rich, luscious scent that brought back memories of the bittersweet times of her childhood. Wriggling between the sheets, she burrowed deeper into her pillow, cocooned and safe in her little world of delicious chocolate delicacies. They’d never let her down. She didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t want to spoil the moment. Rolling over, she hugged the pillow to her chest and fought coming awake to the real world. In her dream, she’d been the chubby ten-year-old girl, stuffing herself full of hot fudge sundaes after school, hoping to erase the pain of her loneliness. Very early in life, Sharon had separated her reality into two parts. When other kids made fun of her weight, when she couldn’t catch her breath in gym class, when her fat jiggled as she ran around the track at school, she let chocolate, cookies, Hostess cupcakes, and Hershey bars lessen some of her pain. She would recite her litany of eating pleasures, and the sounds of laughter and taunts melted away; much like fudge melting in her mouth. Therefore, reality number one was the pain. Reality number two was the pleasure that kept reality number one at bay, at least temporarily. She woke up very slowly this morning, memories from the night before drifting back to her. The pain and the pleasure, just like her childhood. The extreme rejection of Hank walking out on her in front of everybody, and the unbelievable pleasure Pete showed her. Would that pleasure last longer than chocolate had? Probably not. ****

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Sharon was so happy to be outside in the fresh air after her shift was over. Her job as a dental assistant started at eight, the shift was over at three, and she usually grabbed only a quick yogurt for lunch in order to keep the appointments going. Wanting a normal career even if it wasn’t something glamorous, she’d worked hard for the specialized training in a steady job. One she could hold with pride. After her chaotic childhood, normalcy in her adulthood was of paramount importance. Glancing across the street, she spotted Pete talking to Hank, Nickie Grace, and another woman who was practically standing on top of him. It was like a punch to the gut. He was nice to her just last night, carried her away and kissed her as if he meant it. That was all right. She wasn’t invested in a relationship with Pete any more than she’d been with Hank. Guys were like that. You couldn’t trust them. “Hey, Share, wait up!” Pete shouted as he steadied his equipment belt and bounded across the street, totally abandoning the three people in the park. “You look great.” She couldn’t help smiling at his enthusiastic greeting, but she demurred, “I’m sure I look like hell after a full day at work, but thank you anyway.” “I’m not kidding. You look so cute. Your knees are adorable.” His glance roamed appreciatively over her, and his smile was infectious. She ate up his compliments. “Well, I hate baggy scrubs.” “I’ve never seen anyone else wear them as well as you do.” He placed both hands around her waist. Her body heated, and her expression turned serious. All she could do was grip his arms, her hands around his elbows to steady her. After years of being thin, she still couldn’t see herself as anything other than the chubby young girl. She thrilled at the feel of a big, strong man’s hands around her waist. It made her feel delicate and dainty. His gaze, sparkling with heat and sensuality, searched hers. “Your waist is so tiny.” She shivered in dismay. What if he found out the truth about her? The truth she was really a fat girl in a new body? He’d hate her. The blare of a car horn jolted her out of her frightening

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thoughts, and she glanced across the street to the people in the park. “Um, I won’t hold you to our date.” “Huh?” “If you have other plans, that’s okay.” She forced herself to keep her composure. “What do you mean?” His confusion seemed genuine, so she nodded toward Hank and the women. He followed her glance, ran his hands up to her shoulders, and stepped closer. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” His warm breath puffed against her forehead, but she couldn’t make herself look up at him. “Shit, you think I’d stand you up?” Her head popped up. “Well…” “No way.” He pulled her into a snug embrace and kissed her full on the mouth. At first, she stiffened, shocked he would kiss her in public in the daylight, but his lips softened hers. They were tender and sumptuous, better than last night. He didn’t give her a chance to answer before pulling her in more tightly and whispering in her ear, “God, I’ve been thinking about that since last night. Haven’t you?” She slowly raised her lashes and nearly fell to her knees at everything she saw in his green eyes, in his open and sincere expression. Confidence and sensuality. Oh, how she wanted him. “Tell me you’ve been thinking about this.” He sounded almost pleading as he tenderly touched his lips to hers. She was lost in his sipping and nipping mouth and clutched his shirtsleeves. Reluctantly coming up for air, she protested, “Pete, you’re on duty. You’ll get in trouble.” He chuckled, “What’re they going to do, arrest me?” “Oh, hell, I’ll bail you out.” She slid her arms around his waist, above his duty belt. Feeling more confident he wasn’t going to dump her, she hugged him tightly and nibbled at his lips, loving the firm, smooth texture. He had lips made for kissing. He smelled of light cologne, and tasted of the hard candy everyone knew he kept in his pockets. Strawberry, if she wasn’t mistaken.

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When they finally ended the kiss in order to breathe properly, he explained the morning’s events and the other woman in the park. She voiced a million questions. Did they have any suspects? Where were Nickie and her sister staying? At Hank’s? Would someone really hurt Nickie, did he think? Had Hank tried to fix Pete up with the sister? He shook his head. “Nope. Hank and I had a talk this morning.” She stiffened, anger flaring. “Oh, so I’m just going to be passed around—?” He cupped her cheek in his palm. She tried to turn her head. “No! Share, how can you even think that?” He frowned in confusion. Oh, my God. She was giving too much away, letting him see her vulnerable side. “It would be nice if he would talk to me.” “Shit. I thought he had. I’m so sorry, Sharon.” He glanced across the street at his partner then back at her. Struggling to get her poise back, she couldn’t let her insecure panic show. “I’m sure he will then,” she said, as much to assure herself as Pete. “Will you come over and meet everyone?” He gazed at her searchingly. “Then we’ll talk about tonight.” **** Instead of going to the movies, Pete and Sharon agreed to go dancing at Nook’s with Hank, Nickie, and Bobbie. Nickie’s sister was visiting for the weekend. Pete wasn’t usually much of a dancer, but there’d be Sharon, music, and beer. What more did a guy need? It was friggin’ disco night. When the girls started dancing, there wasn’t another woman in the place for him. He’d known Sharon for a few years and always believed her to be a knockout with a killer bod. They’d just never been in the same place, same time romantically. Then Hank got there first. There was more to her than he’d thought. Hell, there was a lot more to her. She wasn’t just a natural-born flirt, a party girl.

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She had a different side to her, one he doubted even Hank had seen. An insecurity, vulnerability, and loneliness. These tugged at his heartstrings and brought out a protective instinct in him. Its depth surprised him. While she danced with the other gals, their eyes locked and stayed locked. He’d teased her, looking down, shading his eyes in mock embarrassment. She’d thrown her head back and laughed, adding an extra few brazen wiggles that gave him a mild heart attack. The jukebox blared. All the women sang— “…pleasures in the night…” Nickie and Bobbie’s short skirts were hot, but Sharon’s long, sleek, form-fitting dress made him hungry to peel it off and get to the luscious body underneath. Her spectacular figure weaved sinuously, bumping and grinding to the music. When she tapped hips with the sisters, lifting her arms and shimmying, his cock hardened painfully behind the zipper in his jeans. He nearly exploded. Then she smiled at him, a flirty, private smile and held his gaze for several beats. He’d never liked disco as much as he did watching Sharon dance to it. “…I’m so excited, and I just can’t hide it…” Oh, yeah. “…now go, walk out the door…” “Not a chance, baby!” he mouthed, watching a smile bloom on her face. She raised her hands to her hair, threaded her fingers through the long strands, and closed her eyes in what looked like ecstasy. The little witch was driving him insane, and he loved it. The song changed to Slow Hand. Oh, fuck, he wasn’t going to make it. “…come and go in a heated rush…” Oh, yeah, he was heating up all right but had no intention of rushing. He plowed his way to the dance floor and swept her possessively into his arms. “I want you out of that dress,” he growled the minute he held her close enough to press his lips against her ear. Her light, flowery scent, combined with the unmistakable heady musk of arousal, dizzied him. Ripe breasts rose sharply against his chest with her gasp, and he nuzzled at her neck, biting her earlobe then sucking away the sting. Her silky hair, loose and flowing around her shoulders, tickling his

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nose, would look fantastic spread out on his pillow. Or, if she liked to be on top, the heavy mass of it would float around his chest, his cock, and caress his balls. He was no longer in any kind of control. He couldn’t stop himself from stroking over her lush hips to fill his palms with her ass, wanting the round, firm cheeks in his hands. His groan drowned out by thumping downbeats, but her shiver proved she heard it. Her face, lips pouty, moist, and open, eyes wide and glittering with sensual promise, tipped up to his. Shit. There was nothing but a soft, thin, cotton dress over her ass. He traced the narrow bands over her hipbones. A thong. She was wearing a God-blessed thong. It almost drove him to his knees. He stopped moving, other couples bouncing off them. She flicked a questioning gaze up at him, but it quickly turned into a heavy-lidded, smoldering, knowing gaze. They were at the same place, at the same time. She’d done half the work arousing herself with the dancing and all the work arousing him. He leaned down to feather his breath over her ear. “Let’s go.” She nodded, but her expression was oddly uncertain and serious. She wrapped her fingers around his biceps, caressed under the tight sleeves of his T-shirt. After a moment of intense scrutiny, she finally whispered back, “Yes.”

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Chapter Three Sharon had no idea why she was so frightened. Not of Pete. Of herself. Maybe they’d better get things straight, like Hank had at the beginning of their short relationship. “Pete?” It barely came out. She had to clear her throat and say it again. She tried to pull out of his arms, but he wouldn’t let her go. “Yes, honey?” Oh, crap. Now she didn’t know how to say it. She wanted so badly to kiss him again. They sat parked in his car, at a river overlook. Thank goodness, no teenagers were there. It wouldn’t look good to catch a deputy making out at the historical marker of the town founder’s grave. He pushed his seat back. “Come here,” he invited, holding out a hand for hers and patting his thigh. “There’s plenty of room.” “Pete,” she started again. “This is just casual. I mean, between us.” His lips tightened. There wasn’t much light, just a faux flame lantern commemorating the grave, but she could see his expression well enough. Plowing on, she said, “I just broke up with Hank and don’t want to move too fast.” “We don’t have to move fast, Share, but will you come here? I want very much to put my arms around you.” He smiled. “I want very much to have your arms around me,” she admitted with a sigh, shifting over to his seat. He grabbed her waist and helped hoist her the final inches to sit on his lap. His thighs were hard and muscled. His chest was hard, too. He was hot, almost steamy, and she forgot what she was worried about. His big palm roamed from her waist to the side of her breast. She stiffened again. She didn’t understand why she was

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so uncertain. Men had touched her breasts before. Quit thinking he’s different. He’s just another man. “Relax, honey.” He nuzzled her neck, but stilled his hand. “You’re so beautiful.” His lips skimmed her skin. Her mouth opened in a soft moan. He turned her face and took her lips, tenderly at first. When she increased the pressure, he deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She drove her fingers into his hair, holding his head steady, imprisoning it. She’d been kissed before, kissed well, but Pete was in a class by himself. He was confident and skilled, although, from his fractured breathing and the little sounds in his throat, he seemed to be slightly out of control. Like she was. He pulled her closer. She pressed her breasts against the warm, firm wall of his chest, suckling his tongue. They joined in rhythmically undulating, rubbing their bodies against each other’s. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips and tongue down her neck. He cupped her breast in a possessive hand. She easily fit in his grasp, though she’d had implants a couple years before. Her nipple poked the center of his gently kneading palm. “Oh Pete, yes.” With his other hand, he lowered the strap of her tank dress, pulling it down her arm far enough to release her breast, baring it to his eyes. She watched him balance her, watched him flick his thumb over, back and forth, teasing her hard nipple. She shuddered, squirmed in his lap. Her head lolled back. Her hand joined his, and she raised her other hand to grip the hair at the back of his neck. His thumb flicked. She moaned his name. He smoothed the soft velvety skin surrounding her nipple. “Do you like that, baby?” He sounded choked. She couldn’t see his face, just the side of his cheek. His gaze seemed locked on her breast. “Yes.” She sighed more than spoke. His finger and thumb compressed. “Oh, yes.” “Yes,” he murmured. “More,” she begged.

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“More,” he agreed. He pinched and rocked her. “So sweet.” When his fingers released her, she had only a second to cry out before his mouth took their place. The surge of her body pushed her breast into his face. All she felt was his tongue, the rhythm of his lips drawing on her. She hissed her pleasure. He tipped her back to make it easier to get to her and feasted, at the same time pulling the remaining strap down to free her other breast. “God, Share,” he intoned reverently. She released his hair and lay draped over his arm, the straps at her elbows, unable to lift her arms for any reason. Imprisoned. She could only feel and enjoy. He took turns wetting each nipple. Jolts raced over her skin, roiled through her blood, and settled in her pussy. Her clit throbbed each time he drew on her, each time his tongue swiped the tip. Her hips swayed, the movement quickening her arousal. His hand slipped under her skirt, pushing it to her thighs. He found the silk panel over her mound, traced it to the edge where it no longer covered anything, and pushed aside the strap of her thong to stroke her wet pussy. Then he speared his long, thick fingers between her lips, rubbing her clit, circling it easily because she was so wet. She whimpered. Her hips bumped, shoving at his hand. He settled into suckling her nipple, hard, then gently, then deeply. To double her torment, he persistently teased her vaginal opening. “Pete, Pete…” She was trapped, her arms plastered to her sides. His mouth on her breast. His hand in her pussy. He rimmed her, around and around, thrusting two—it had to be two—fingers inside her. Just barely inside, but stretching her. Pulsating in and out, driving her crazy. “Pete! Please—!” He interrupted the sucking of her nipple to murmur, “Please what, sweetheart? What do you want?” His fingers never stopped. “Fuck me.” “You mean like this?” Two fingers. Jesus God, two fingers pushed all the way inside her. She opened her mouth in a scream that died on the way out. It didn’t take much. All he needed to do was to caress the sweet spot deep inside, and she started coming. Quickly, so

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quickly. She squeezed his arm between her thighs, sending a message to stay where he was. “Baby, I want to get you in a bed.” He kissed her, his mouth eating at hers, his tongue thrusting, hers thrusting back. Coming down from the high of climax, she shook, realizing she was half-naked in the town make-out location. She moaned and buried her face in his neck. “Oh, my God, Pete. I can’t believe that just happened.” “Believe it, Share. I hope you want it to happen again, but next time, I want a bed. With both of us naked and my cock buried so far up inside you it won’t find its way out.” All she could do for a moment was whimper. “I’d better get up.” **** Pete slipped his twitching fingers from the sweet, hot embrace of her cunt and savored every tauntingly slow inch of the journey. Gazing into her eyes, he put his fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean. He laughed out loud at the look on her face. So surprised. “Oh, baby, your look is priceless.” “It’s just that I’ve never seen anyone do that.” “Any time, my dear. You taste delicious.” She placed her palm along his jaw, rubbed her thumb across his lips. Jesus, he wanted her. She had to feel his cock on her ass. Every wiggle, every squirm rubbed him the right way. However, crazy as it sounded, he was enjoying her reactions. He shifted in the seat. “Oh, Pete, I’m sorry if I’m too heavy.” “You feel just fine right where you are, honey,” he responded, pulling her in close again. “Do you want me to do something for you?” She ran her fingers up and down the center of his chest and caressed his nipples through the soft cotton of his T-shirt. He hissed in response. “Man, do I ever, but this isn’t the place.” “Do you want to go back to my house?”

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He jerked roughly when he heard the chirp of his cell phone. “Shit.” He had to juggle her to lean forward to where he’d put the phone on the dashboard. “Rayne.” He listened for a few seconds. “Okay, Mol. Yeah, I’ll be there.” He wrapped his hand around her neck and tipped her chin up. Then he ran a finger down the furrow between her brows. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I have to go, when I’d rather be doing this.” He brushed his lips over hers, back and forth. When she started to moan and amp up her response, he knew he’d better quit, or they’d start up again. “What happened?” she whispered, her voice none too steady. “Zayboh’s on call, but he didn’t answer his cell. He’s gonna get his butt kicked. Luckily for me, I answered,” he said, the sarcasm clear in his voice. “I’m really sorry, but I have to take you home.” “I understand. It’s okay.” “No, it’s not okay,” he said as he settled her back on her side of the car and started the engine. “We’ll have another time. I hope.” “You bet we will.” He leaned over and gave her another long, gentle kiss. “Shit,” he muttered against her lips. “I’ve gotta go.” When they reached her house, he gave her one final kiss. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Okay?”

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Chapter Four The minute Sharon got inside her place the phone rang. She hardly had a chance to catch her breath before answering. Glancing at the kitchen clock, her stomach clutched with worry. There was only one person who would be calling her this late. “Hello?” “Sharon, you gotta come home right now.” She leaned on her counter and took a deep breath, biting back her automatic irritable response of what now? Focusing her attention on the Hunks of HGTV calendar hanging on her kitchen wall, she finally said, “Mom, what’s the matter? Why are you calling so late?” “Your father’s back.” She doubled over as if the breath violently punched out of her lungs. Her head reeled. Her legs folded, and she had to plop down onto the floor. “Did you hear me? Are you there?” She tried to make her voice as even as possible. “Yes, I heard you.” “Well, he wants to see you.” Breathing deeply, her mouth wide open to take in as much air as possible, she fought the nausea and anger roiling in her stomach. “Is that so?” “Can you come here?” She caught her mother’s anxiety. “Is he standing there right now?” “Yeah.” “Why did he come back?” She was asking questions to delay thinking or acting. “Here, he wants to talk to you.” Sharon clicked the phone off and sat there, shaking. There was no way she wanted to talk to him. The very last time she

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saw him she was ten years old. Sixteen years without him, without any word about or from him. She tried to repress the nausea, the tears, the pain, and the reminders of the despair at his rejection so many years before. As an adult, she’d read enough to realize his leaving wasn’t her fault, but the chubby little girl still inside her feared it was. How incestuous that was at its base. Damn it, she didn’t care. Let her mother handle him. She didn’t care if she ever saw him again. He wasn’t going to get another chance to hurt her. Her phone rang again. Her first thought was to let it ring, but she answered. “I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She hung up again. And in case that didn’t get her message across well enough, she unplugged the phone. Oh, God, what if this had happened when Pete was here? He would have been out the door in a second, never to see again. She spent the rest of the night in her dancing clothes, huddled on the couch. Every time she dozed off, she jerked awake in a heart-thumping state of anxiety. This would spell the end of any relationship, even short term, with Pete. What guy would sign up for this kind of personal trauma? Son of a bitch, Alan Timmons did it again. He took something good in her life and trashed it. Again. In the morning, after a long, emotionally raw night, she made coffee. She wasn’t ready for reality yet, but she plugged her phone back in. She heard it ringing when she was in the bathroom. Showering and washing her hair went a little way toward making her feel half-way normal. She didn’t have to work that day, so she put on lightweight, long, drawstring pants and a tank top. She might as well try to be comfortable physically, since emotional comfort would be impossible. Eventually, she couldn’t put it off any longer. She listened to her voice mails. Sure enough, her mother had called again. Her father wanted her to come home. Well, she wasn’t going to jump to do his bidding. He’d been gone sixteen years and didn’t deserve to boss her around. She called her mother. “I’m not running back there to see him. You know where I live. He can find me if he wants to.”

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“Baby, don’t be like that. He really wants to see you.” “Does it make any difference to you that I don’t want to see him?” “Will you at least talk to him on the phone?” “No.” It sounded like her mother had been crying. God, when would those two figure it out? Then a thought hit her. “Mom, is he back for good?” “No. I don’t know. Maybe. What am I supposed to tell him?” Linda Timmons whined. “Mother, I’m sorry for you, but I don’t want to see him. Now I have to leave. I have things to do,” she said definitively. “But Sharon—” “Sorry, Mom, I’ve gotta go.” She hung up. To keep from getting any more calls, she grabbed her purse and car keys and slammed the door shut behind her. Just when her life was in order and a great guy like Pete was in it, this had to happen. She barely tolerated her mother, let alone the thought of her longmissing father. **** Pete had been thinking about Sharon all day. The combination of her sexiness with the surprising sweetness and vulnerability was what kept him intrigued. He’d bet his last dollar she wasn’t as sexually easy as the guys thought. Sure, she’d hooked up with Hank, but they’d been steady for a few months. She was off work today, so he decided to swing by her place in the afternoon. Maybe they could make plans for later. When he pulled up in front of her house, she was standing in the open driver’s side door of her car, looking over the top at a man and a woman. For some reason, she looked like she was barricading herself behind the car. Her tense facial expression and her body language said stay away. The standoff aspect of the scene was familiar to a cop. Domestic disputes were dangerous, and he forced himself into the proper frame of mind. As he sauntered over, he scrutinized the couple. The woman looked similar to Sharon, enough to be a relative. A trashy version of Sharon: big, teased up hair, lots of makeup, tight

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Capri pants, and an off the shoulder blouse. Even though the woman was trying to look young, he figured her for Sharon’s mother rather than a sister. The man’s clothing was clean, but he looked scruffy and gaunt, like an aging rocker. What was alarming was Sharon’s face. It was beet red, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes wide in anger. He called her name in a cool, calm voice, giving her warning he was near. He repeated it, as he got closer. On the third time, she straightened and finally spared him a glance. It seemed to take her a minute to recollect who he was, and it broke his heart. Sharon opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the woman said, “What’d you do, Sharon? Call the cops?” “No. Pete, what’re you doing here?” she asked defensively. “I came by to take you out to dinner. Are you all right?” “Um…I’m fine.” It was an obvious lie. He strode up next to her and slid his arm around her waist. She was shaking, cold even in the heat of the summer day. “Sharon, we came to talk to you. Alone,” said the woman. “Honey, what’s going on? Do you want me to get rid of these people?” “Tell him who we are,” the woman demanded. Sharon turned stiffly toward him, her gaze frightened and unfocused. “Come on over here. Let’s talk,” he suggested, urging her away from the car and the people who were obviously upsetting her. “Stay over there,” he ordered the couple, using an authoritative voice that you learned in his profession. When he got her to the other side of the street, he turned her so they were out of her sightline, but he could keep an eye on them. “Share.” He cupped her shoulders to steady her. “It’s okay now. What’s the matter?” She chewed on her lower lip and wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Who are they? Are they threatening you? Do you want me to get you out of here?” She shook her head, a fast shake. “Pete, I’m okay. Maybe you’d better go. There’s nothing for you to be involved in.” “I don’t want to leave you. You look terrified.” “I’m not really afraid,” she said in a low, quiet voice.

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“Tell me what’s going on.” She hesitated. “It’s all right. Let me help you.” Her shoulders slumped, a breath burst out of her. “They’re my parents.” “And it’s not a good thing they’re here,” he added, figuring that much out. “You’re shaking, honey. I can take you to my place.” “No. Thanks, Pete, but I can handle this by myself.” “You don’t have to.” “But I can. I’ll talk to you later.” She was dismissing him. He didn’t have any right to interfere in her life. He hadn’t known her long, but she was obviously in distress. He also recognized a courageous woman. She was shaking out of her shoes, but was going back into the fight. “Call me. If you don’t call me by tonight, I'm calling you.” He gently massaged her shoulders. Man, are they tight. “Okay,” she finally agreed, relaxing somewhat under his ministrations. Reluctantly, he left, checking his rear view mirror as long as she was in sight. She’d started back across the street toward the couple. It sure didn’t look like the same type of relationship he had with his family. They wouldn’t have been glaring at one another over the top of a car. At least not with the animosity he’d sensed back there. He’d just have to trust her and check on her later. Count on it.

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Chapter Five Sharon had to get her act together before she talked to her mother and father. A surge of rage boiled up in her at the thought of seeing that man and even calling him father. He didn’t deserve that name. “Can we go inside and talk, Sharon?” Linda asked. She didn’t want them in her home. “There’s a picnic table.” She pointed to a little park across the street. “We can go over there.” They walked silently to the table. The man she refused to call father, Alan, hadn’t said a word yet. She sat on one side of the table, and Alan and Linda sat together on the other. “Why did you come back now?” “Honey, your dad came back to see you.” “Isn’t it a little late?” Sharon let the hostility come out loud and clear. “You haven’t said anything. Where have you been all these years?” “I’ve been traveling around.” His voice sounded rusty. He had to clear it a couple of times just for that short sentence. “Did you think I’d be happy to see you?” Her rage was the only thing holding her together. At least it kept her from crying. “Yeah, I kinda thought you would be.” “Well, you’re wrong. You left us a long time ago. There’s never been a word from you; not through birthdays and Christmases, graduation, Mother’s Days—nothing.” Her teeth clenched, her lips drawing tight and flat. He didn’t respond. “You have nothing to say for yourself, do you?” “You turned into a beautiful woman, Sharon.” “A big difference from the chubby ten year old you left, huh?” she snapped bitterly. He folded his hands in the prayer position on the table in front of him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

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“Were we so terrible you had to run away? Was I so terrible?” she lashed out. “Sharon, honey,” Linda interrupted. “Don’t defend him, Mother. Make him answer. Why did you leave us?” Alan glanced at Linda. “Go ahead and tell her.” Linda slumped forward, leaning her elbows on the table’s rough surface. “Your mother went with another man.” Sharon gasped, her mouth hanging open before she shut it with a snap. It was the very last thing she expected to hear. Not much louder than a whisper, she asked, “So you just left me without a word? No goodbye? No I love you, but I have to leave?” “That was probably wrong of me,” he offered weakly. “Oh, boy. Wrong? You left me to suffer all these years thinking it was because of me? That I’d done something wrong. That I was too fat and ugly.” “Fat and ugly? Why would you think that?” Memories flooded back. Memories she had pushed out years before. “Because you were always telling me to stop eating so much. Because you were always making fun of me. You called me Tubs! You never shut up about it.” “I was just kidding around, baby.” “Don’t call me baby! Destroying a little child like that is not just kidding around.” She pushed herself off the bench, stood, and twirled in a circle. Frenetically, she cried, “Do you like me better now that I’m thinner? Now that I have a figure. I wasn’t perfect, so you didn’t like me?” “Sharon.” Her mother finally spoke again. “Don’t be so dramatic. It wasn’t about you. It was about me.” Frustrated and deflated, she balanced her fists on her hips and struggled to hold in the tears. “And how would a ten year old girl know that? All I knew was one day you were here, the next you were gone. It was just cruel. No father who loves his child would make fun of her the way you did.” “But, honey, he’s sorry now, and he’s back.” “For good?” Alan and Linda exchanged uneasy glances.

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“Let me tell you a little story, Alan,” she said venomously. “Yeah, I was chubby at ten. I stayed chubby through much of high school, until my junior year. A guidance counselor at school talked to me, helped me deal with my weight. When I lost it, I turned pretty. Who knew? Suddenly boys who’d never noticed me before or who made fun of me wanted to date me. They wanted to fuck me.” Both her parents jolted at the crude word. “Yeah, they wanted to fuck me. I hope you’re proud of me now.” She wasn’t going to tell Alan she didn’t sleep with any of the guys. Let him suffer. “I’m sorry,” Alan muttered. “The boys gave me the attention I was starving for. It was better than food.” “I was mad at your mother.” “So you just threw me away.” “What do you want me to say? I’ve said I was sorry.” “I can’t talk about this any more. I don’t care what you do. Just don’t do it around me.” Warm tears trickled down her cheeks. She turned her face away, not wanting them to see her weakness. “Can’t we try to make it up?” This from Linda. Maybe they should see how she really felt. Maybe they should see how their actions hurt her. She turned back, looked each of them directly in the eye, and said, “You’ve hurt me more than you want to believe. You casually tell me the reason you left and expect me to understand. And now you think I’ll just forget it and make up?” The tears fell freely. “I need to go. You, Alan, can go to hell. If you take him back, Mother, you’re stupider than I imagined.” Stalking away, she scrambled into her car and drove off with no idea where she was going. She didn’t give into the shakes until she pulled into a wooded rest area along the highway. It wasn’t long before a police cruiser pulled up behind her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she commanded herself to get control back. If Pete were to find out this whole sordid story, he’d be sickened. He had a wonderful, close family, and he wouldn’t want to deal with her baggage. She knew he was there but still jerked at the tap on the passenger side window.

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“Can I get in?” he asked. She nodded without looking at him. He climbed in, settled his duty belt comfortably, and pushed the seat all the way back to make room for his long legs. “Are you all right?” “Yeah,” she replied sullenly. He leaned back, rested his clasped hands on his middle, and stared out the front window. She sighed and rubbed her temple. She was going to have to talk to him. He’d come over at just the wrong time and had seen how distressed she’d been. Why would he want to be involved in this? He didn’t know her well enough. “That man was my father. He left when I was ten. I haven’t seen him since.” “You mean he just showed up after—?” “Sixteen years. Yes. I’m twenty-six. It’s been sixteen years.” “You haven’t seen him in all those years, and he just showed up now,” he repeated. “Yup.” Maybe he wouldn’t ask anything more. Reliving her childhood pain and fear and the resulting depression exhausted her. Mentally, she’d come so far in her life. After the confrontation with her parents, she wanted to shove it all away again. If she refused to talk about it, Pete would lose interest and leave. She caught a quick breath before it came out in a sob. Was there no one to care for her? Just stop. Pete’s not the one. Don’t set yourself up for disappointment. Then he did the most unexpected thing. He wrapped his hand around her neck, his warm hand, and tugged her over. He helped her over the space between the bucket seats and installed her in his lap. She’d been there before, but what he did next was totally nonsexual and totally wonderful. He urged her head down to his shoulder, petted her hair, and cradled her face in his palm. His thumb brushed idly across her cheek. She started shivering again. No one had ever comforted her this way. He didn’t say anything, but his silent sympathy soothed her. The fist she’d been pressing against the middle of her chest slowly relaxed. She closed her eyes and breathed in his clean,

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male scent while his fingertips caressed her and his warm breath wafted over her skin. Torn—she didn’t want to be weak, but the urge to cry on his strong shoulder took over. His gentle fingers smoothed across her face, her cheeks. He traced down her nose, over her eyebrows. It wasn’t sexual. He didn’t touch her lips. His hold surrounded her in warmth and protection. Patiently, undemanding, he gave her time and the mental space to open up. Her tears trickled out. She started to dash them away, but there were too many. She buried her face in his shirt, thinking briefly it was his uniform shirt, but it was too late. Her emotions unleashed and nothing could stop them. “Tell me about it, Share,” he said when her tears died down a little. “I was a chubby little girl,” she tentatively began. “My parents fought so loudly. Yelled, called each other names, and threw pots and pans. I kept my head down and ate. Just mindlessly stuffed my mouth until it was all gone. I tried to be invisible.” “But you weren’t, were you?” “He made fun of me. Oh, God, this is so embarrassing. You don’t want to hear this,” she said with a sob. He pulled her in tighter. “It’s okay, baby.” She gripped the front of his shirt with a sweaty fist. “He called me Tubs. Isn’t that sick? I can’t imagine destroying your child that way, but at the time, all I knew was I wasn’t good enough. That I disgusted him.” “What about your mother?” he asked; his voice gentle. “She was too busy yelling at him.” “She didn’t protect you?” Sharon squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. “Oh, God, baby, I’d have punched his lights out for you.” She shook her head again. “I mean it. I’ve taken a lot of kids out of abusive situations.” “You didn’t hit anyone, did you?” She finally ventured to look up at him. All she saw was his strong jaw. He wasn’t looking at her; he was gazing out the front window. The pulse beat in his throat, and she wanted to bite it and take some of his strength.

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His chest jumped with his chuckle. “Man, I wanted to, but I stayed in professional mode. Do you want me to beat up your father?” “Yeah,” she said in a small voice. “I kinda do.” “You got it, babe. Now, what’s the rest of the story? When did he leave?” She slumped against him, deflated again. “I was in fourth grade. I came home from school, and he and Mom were fighting, as usual. He yelled, ‘I’m going out!’ She yelled, ‘Good riddance.’ He never came back.” “My God.” “We kept waiting, every day, for a long time. Then I think my mother got some note or phone call or something, and I could tell she’d quit waiting. Other men started coming around, and I kept eating.” She shuddered. “Share,” he asked, not hiding his suspicion. “Did any of the men touch you?” She hesitated. “It’s okay to tell me.”

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Chapter Six “One tried,” she said, so softly she wondered if he heard. “He said he liked…um…meaty little girls.” “Oh, baby.” He tightened his arms around her. “I kicked him in the shin and ran away.” “Good going,” he exclaimed. “That’s my brave girl. I’m so proud of you. You survived and flourished and made a nice life for yourself.” “It wasn’t easy. I made a lot of mistakes along the way.” “We all do, honey.” “You haven’t. I’ve heard you talking. You have a wonderful family, a good job here, and lots of friends.” “There’s one mistake I made.” “What?” She expected to hear about a failed marriage or an illegitimate child. “I didn’t ask you out before Hank did.” She moaned and buried her face deeper into his chest. She felt him sucking her into him. He was too good to be real. “I mean it, Share. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” She went limp, expelling the pent up breath she’d been struggling to hold in. “Thank you, Pete.” “You’re welcome, Sharon,” he replied solemnly. **** Pete fumed. How could a father be so cruel? His father would never have treated daughters that way. He had nine siblings, older and younger, all different sizes. If any one kid dared to make fun of another in that kind of personal, insulting way, they’d get a big talking to by Mom or Pop. He had every intention of making love to Sharon Timmons and making her feel cared for and safe. She’d told him how a

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counselor had helped her turn things around. Now, she’s the beautiful, alluring woman of his dreams. Of course, those weren’t her words. He had a feeling she didn’t see herself as gorgeous and sexy. He was going to make it his mission in life to change that attitude. His cell phone chirped. Damn it. Unbelievable timing. “Rayne. Yeah, Route 20 and Marion Street. Okay. I’m heading there now. 10-4.” He opened the car door but paused before getting out. “Auto versus truck at Twenty and Marion. I’ve gotta go.” “Injuries?” she asked. “Yeah, two ambulances are there already.” “Oh, my God, it must be serious. I can go with you.” He swung one leg out the door. “I took CPR courses at the Red Cross since I work in the medical field. I might be able to help. Do something.” He gazed back at her tear-streaked face. Even with her problems, she thought of other people and wanted to go to an accident scene with him. His already high respect for her, shot up. “It might be pretty bad.” She was already leaning forward to start her ignition. “I work in people’s mouths. I can take it.” He met her eyes. She nodded and gave him a brief smile. “Go. We’ve gotta hurry. I’ll follow you.” He leaned back in and chucked her under the chin. “Later, babe,” he promised. He didn’t have any more time to waste; not that being with her was a waste of time. He tore out of the rest stop, tires throwing gravel, and raced, lights and sirens, the ten miles to the scene. What he found there was horrifyingly more than he’d expected. A pickup hit an SUV full of kids. Jesus. He pulled his car onto the side of the road, already blocked by other cop cars and ambulances. Sirens were off, and the only sounds were paramedics eerily making brief comments to each other and the squawk of the official radios. The sheriff spotted him and motioned him over. “There were six kids in the SUV. Four are still in it.”

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“Shit,” Pete muttered, then glanced over his shoulder at Sharon’s car coming to a stop, several yards down the road. Smart girl to keep her car out of the way of the emergency vehicles. “Here, miss, you can’t come over here. It’s an accident scene,” the sheriff yelled at Sharon. “Sheriff,” Pete said. “She’s trained in CPR and might be able to help.” “Well, search for the other two kids. Jesus, how far can they have been thrown?” Pete grabbed Sharon’s hand. “Share, two kids were thrown from the SUV. Start there.” He pointed to the barbed wire fence between the drainage ditch and the cornfield. “Walk several yards in one direction, into the cornfield a few feet, and back in the other direction. I’ll take the other side. Shout out if you find anything.” She nodded and headed for her task, her face grim. **** Sharon tried to quell her shaking. Two children were out here. Please God, keep them alive. While she stepped carefully, she listened for anything other than wind sighing through corn stalks. Any little moan or whimper. It became strangely quiet as she went further into the field. She couldn’t see or hear what was going on at the highway. Maybe her search parameters were too small. Maybe she should go farther up and down on each side. She started calling, gently. Maybe if a child heard a voice, they would make a sound. Her heart thudded at the thought of an injured kid lying out here, alone and frightened. “I’m here to help you. Call out, if you can. Cry. I’ll hear you.” Back and forth, she tramped. Her eyes stung from holding back tears. They wouldn’t do any good and would just hinder the search. Flies and gnats bombarded her face and arms. She fanned them away. Nipping from bugs was minor compared to the search. Sweat dripped down her face. The sun was straight overhead, beating down on the stifling cornfield. Maybe they’re both on the other side of the road? Just when she feared she wouldn’t find anyone, she heard the sound.

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Like a baby bird’s chirp. She straightened, turned in the direction she heard it, and closed her eyes in concentration. There it was again. Clearer. She shoved aside corn stalks, heading toward the sound. Oh, God. A small body lying flat in the dirt. Silent, but with big blue eyes staring up at her. Alive! She immediately shouted back toward the highway. “Here! Over here. I found one!” She ripped off her tank top, to wave above the corn so they could get a location on her. She had a bra on, thank God, but she would have used her top anyway. Finding the child was more important than bare boobs. Kneeling at the boy’s side, she glanced over his dirty, tear-streaked face and torn T-shirt. “Are you gonna help me?” he whimpered. “Yes, honey. Be still. The paramedics are coming.” She cupped his face in her palms. He was shifting, and she wanted him to hold steady. “Does anything hurt?” She glanced down his torso and legs. They were stretched out straight and didn’t look broken. Same with his arms, but you couldn’t tell for sure until he was X-rayed. She slid a hand carefully under his head to feel for blood, but didn’t feel anything hot and sticky. “Am I gonna die?” “Oh, no, honey.” Oh, God, oh, God. “You’re gonna be fine. I promise you. Help’s coming.” Hurry up. His eyes started to close. “Sweetie, what’s your name? Can you tell me?” She didn’t want him to go to sleep or lose consciousness. “Bradley,” he whispered. “Wow, that’s a big name for a little boy. How old are you?” He paused, as if trying to remember. “Six,” he finally announced. “And three quarters.” She smiled at him. Please God, let him make it. “You’re not such a little boy after all, are you? You’re grown up to know what three quarters means.” It felt like it’d been hours. Finally, the paramedics crashed their way through the cornfield to them. She immediately backed off, but kept eye contact with Bradley. His gaze was ferociously needy. She covered her mouth with shaky fingers to stifle a sob then quickly bared her teeth in a

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smile to comfort him. “It’s all right, it’s all right,” she said, again and again. The medical personnel got an oxygen mask on him and an IV started, then transferred him to a stretcher and began to make their way out of the cornfield. Having already remembered to put her tank top back on, she followed. Just before they put him in the ambulance, she squeezed his little hand. “It’ll be okay now, Bradley. You’re a brave little boy. They’ll take care of you.” Thankfully, Pete came out of the field on the other side of the road, helping to carry a stretcher. Her heart turned cold. This one, also a little boy, wasn’t moving and his eyes were not open. The paramedic glanced at her and said quietly, “He’s alive.” Then he jumped in, closed the door, and the ambulance peeled out, its siren blaring. A second later, her knees gave way. She folded to the ground, covering her face with grimy hands. “Share, are you all right?” Pete squatted next to her. “I’m fine,” she said shakily. “It’s just a reaction. Oh, God, what happened?” He helped her to stand but kept his arm around her waist in case she buckled again. “Guy in the pickup was drunk, lost control, and hit the SUV on the driver’s side.” She glanced over at the large vehicle. Its front end smashed almost flat on the driver’s side and all the air bags had deployed. How in the hell were the kids thrown? Then she spotted the pickup driver. Unbelievably, he was arguing with a deputy. Their voices carried clearly. “I’m not drunk. I had one beer.” Hands cuffed behind him and shoved back against a squad car. “Maybe three, but I’m not drunk!” “Shut up.” “It’s not my fault.” “How do you figure that?” “They pulled out in front of me.” “And you were speeding and too drunk to stop in time?” “Yeah.” He didn’t sound repentant at all. Sharon had heard enough. Her father drank too much and nothing was ever his fault. This son of a bitch drove drunk and

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caused an accident that could have killed children. For the two kids to end up so far from the SUV, he must have been going very fast, considering the car had practically been at a stand still. Her breath came in short gasps, and her heart thumped in her throat. She moved toward him. Someone grabbed at her arm. It must have been Pete. She shrugged him off and kept going. “You asshole. You bastard. Who the hell do you think you are to be so irresponsible?” she screeched. “What if you’d killed them?” “Share, honey, leave it be.” “Kids are supposed to be protected. A guy like this doesn’t belong on the road.” She yanked her arm away from him. “That’s the trouble with men like him. They think they have a right to do whatever they want and hurt anyone in their path.” “We’ve got him, honey. He’ll go to jail.” She stalked right up to the worthless piece of shit. The worst part of it was that he physically resembled her father, especially as she’d seen him today. Skinny, ill-fitting clothes, too-long hair. She stifled a sob. Part of her knew she was attacking him because of that, but he still deserved it. “He’d better go to jail,” she snarled, nose to nose with him. “Lady, get out of my face!” He tried to twist his shoulders to push her away. She raised her hands, but before they landed, Pete picked her straight up in the air, and turned her around to face the other direction. “Hey,” she barked. He bent his head close and whispered in her ear, “Share, calm down. We’ve got him. He’s toast.”

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Chapter Seven Sharon insisted on going to the hospital to check up on the kids. The two thrown from the SUV were holding their own, although in serious condition. He admired her tactics. She knew how to bypass the ER admittance desk, casually walking through as if she belonged. The woman had cojones. Even though he was in uniform, he followed her lead, enjoying just watching her operate. By the time she’d assured herself of the two boys’ well being, he was off duty. Pete let them in through the front door of his house. She wandered into the living room, lit by the table lamp he always kept on, and distractedly drifted fingertips over furniture and across the spines of books on the shelves. She gazed at photos of his family. He hoped she noticed not every sibling had a svelte figure. She turned and stepped into his arms, offering her lips, still sweet and salty from her dried tears. He covered her mouth, teased her lips open, and waited tentatively to learn her mood, to learn how she wanted this to go. Sweet and loving, or fast and hot? Her fingers fisted on the back of his shirt, tightened then she opened her mouth, and sucked him home. She wanted all of the above. Cupping both hands in her hair, he angled her head, ravishing her mouth. He was very aware of his height and breadth towering over her slenderness. Her soft, full breasts crushed against his hard chest. Shit, he still had his duty belt on. A man can’t make love with all his equipment in the way. “Just a minute, Share. Let me take this off. Don’t lose the mood.” He quickly unbuckled the belt. “Your gun?” she murmured.

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“I usually keep it on top of the fridge, but this’ll work for now,” he said as he placed it on the top of the bookshelf. “I need to see you, darlin’.” He trailed his fingers down her back to her waist then lower to cup her ass and press her hips against his stiff dick. Her head rolled back submissively, her mouth open on a moan. His brain spun wildly when she rocked over his cock. Oh, yeah. She didn’t have many clothes on, just the thin pants, tank top, and underwear. He pushed his fingers inside the elastic waist, inside the band of her panties, and slid them down and off her hips. Goddamn. Her bare ass, firm and round, filled his palms. He squeezed. “Oh, Pete, my turn.” She headed for his shirt buttons, flicking them open from the waist up. He enjoyed her hands as she took time to caress his skin between every button. Her fingers became more and more bold, tugging on his chest hair, plucking and strumming his nipples. She worked them as a man plays with a woman’s nipples. He was totally into it, the spearing pleasure finding its way deep into the base of his cock, into his balls. He slid her top and bra straps off her shoulders, trapping her arms tightly to her body. It freed her breasts, those beautiful, full, luscious breasts. He lifted her, bringing her nipples closer to his mouth. “I’d rather do this to you.” The tip of his tongue swirled over the deep rose, distended skin. Her breath came fast. “Christ, why are we out here?” “Where should we be?” She was affected too, her voice a whimper. He met her gaze. Her eyes sparkled then fell to half-mast inviting a kiss. “I’ll show you, you little tease,” he responded. She shrieked as he hoisted her and tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. She felt so right, almost naked compared to his clothed state. Her pants were dangling off her knees, and his hand landed firmly on her ass. Her smooth and sexy buck-naked ass. ****

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The backs of her knees hit the side of the bed, and Sharon bounced as he came down on top. Before becoming too heavy for her, he rolled to his side and wrangled her down with a strong, uniform-clad thigh. “Share, you wouldn’t believe how much I wanted to get you here—in my clutches, heh heh,” he chuckled wickedly. His fingers skimmed from her waist to palm her breast. That gentle weight—her breath hitched, catching on a moan and her heart opened to him like a field of flowers turning to greet the sun. She closed her eyes and arched up into him. Her breasts were sensitive. He tenderly curved his fingers around her soft flesh, holding her in a delicate embrace. “Kiss me,” she begged. His lips tipped in a lopsided smile. “Yes, ma’am.” He took her mouth with the same lightly passionate touch as his hand on her breast, as if he intended to leisurely enjoy her. Her skin simmered from the moist trail of his tongue. “Pete.” She clutched his shoulders, cupped his nape, shivered at the warm swipe of his tongue over and around the shell of her ear. He delicately pinched and rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger. She lost her breath in the sensations heating her belly. His lips wended their way to join his fingers at her nipple. He stilled over her breast, his fitful, scorching breath on her bare skin bathing the sensitive nub. He nipped a gentle, firm compression of his teeth on the tip of her breast. “Ahh.” Her head spun, dazed by the pleasures. His steamy mouth had completely wetted her skin, and he blew a whisper of breath over her nipple. She shivered, arched, and slid her fingers through the dark blond strands of his hair to hold him to her. “Oh, Pete,” she moaned. He nuzzled between her breasts, licking and nibbling at her while pushing her clothes completely off and tossing them on the floor. Then he leaned over her, staring reverently at her breasts. A flush heated her skin; her heart stuttered. She’d been proud of her breasts since the implants, but a thought flitted through her mind. Would Pete have cared for them before? She’d been lucky,

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though. The stitches perfectly hid in the creases underneath, and her skin, as well as her nipples, had retained sensitivity. Instead of kissing her breasts, as she’d expected, he brushed her lips with his tongue. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered over her. “Not just your breasts. You. Your eyes, your mouth.” It was as if he knew her fears. Oh, God, he’s so sweet. She touched her tongue to his, setting off a passionate firestorm. **** Their lovemaking was fast and intense. Pete got himself out of his clothes, into a condom, and slid his hungry, greedy cock inside her. “I’m sorry.” He groaned the words. “I want you so bad. Next time I’ll take more time.” Jesus, her pussy’s fine. It held him, pumped and massaged his dick. Heat from deep inside his belly rippled through his veins and nerves. He found her neck, sucked the delicate skin between his teeth. Wanted her lips. Found them. Took them fiercely. Groaned into her open mouth. He felt it coming, felt it rip up hot through his cock; boiling, thick, explosive. “Jesus.” His spine stiffened, thigh muscles tightened, and he spurted deep inside her sweet, hot cunt. “Oh God, baby,” he gasped. He rolled to his side, pulling her along. Her head rested on his shoulder as he ran his fingers through her hair, through the curls, straightening them. He panted, his chest expanding shakily. She quivered. It certainly couldn’t be him trembling like that. Holy… Being inside her was electrifying. Was it trite to say it was the best he’d ever had? But it was. Her body was the sexual home he’d never had before. Something amazing had just happened between them. She had to have shared it too. Exhausted, he needed to close his eyes just for a second, keep her close to his side, to cuddle her. Seduced by the soft bed and darkness, they dozed nestled together like puppies, his head nesting on her hair. **** Sharon awoke. Where was she? His body blanketed her, his heat sizzling along her spine. Hard knees and hard thighs nudged

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the backs of her legs, and a rigid cock nestled against her ass. Oh, right. Now she knew where she was. With Pete. One side of her mouth tipped up in a private smirky smile. They’d done it once then passed out, but boy had it been a good one. It seems she’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her, and it hadn’t taken long for either of them to come. She scraped her teeth across her lower lip. It was still dark inside the bedroom, but brightening outside. She could see the dim outlines of furniture. He rustled in his sleep, nudging his hips against her backside and reminding her, as if she could forget, she wanted more of his wonderful cock but even more than that, just lying in his arms felt safe. She rolled to face him, and he surprised her with open eyes and smiling lips. Dare she allow herself to feel so sheltered? With anyone? “Sorry I passed out,” he murmured. “It was a big day. Lots going on. We were both drained,” she responded. His grin widened, triggering her answering one. She snuggled against his chest and ran her palm over the bulge in his upper arm. Squeezing it, she asked, “Do you work out?” “Yeah,” he murmured sleepily. “Mostly I run, but I lift weights too.” “Tell me about your family. You have a lot of brothers and sisters, don’t you?” He traced her collarbone with a fingertip and chuckled. “Oh, yeah, I have eight.” “Eight!” “Yeah. I was the fifth, right in the middle.” “What in the world was that like growing up? I can’t even imagine a house full of kids like that.” “It was chaos. Of the best kind. We fought, wrestled, and raced our horses like lunatics.” “Horses? Did you live on a farm?” “A ranch outside Flagstaff, Arizona.” “You’re a cowboy!” She smiled appreciatively. Closing her eyes, she stretched her neck in reaction to the gentle fingers tracing invisible lines on the rounded upper curves of her breasts.

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“Yup, ma’am, I’m a bona fide cowpoke.” “How in the world did you get here to Iowa then?” She ruffled her fingers through the light colored hair at the center of his muscled chest. “Well, honey, I wanted to go into law enforcement and was accepted at the University of Nebraska. After graduating, I worked in Lincoln for five years before coming to Parkersburg. A little lower, a little slower,” he intoned when her hand hovered over his belly button. She grasped his cock and balls together in one hand, gently massaging them. Kissing his chest, she purred, “Where are your condoms? I think you’re gonna need one.” He reached behind him to pull one off the nightstand then drew her closer, running his hands around her sides and back before tucking them around her ass and pulling her belly against his cock. Giggling, “By George, I think you’re ready.” She took the packet from him, tore it open, and slowly and agonizingly sheathed him. He was able to plunge inside her easily; she was as ready for him as he was for her. Her giggle died on a groan when he rolled to his back, and she ended upright, balanced on his cock, his fingers grasping her hips. She leaned back so his penis rubbed fully against her Gspot. “Oh, God, that feels good.” She moaned the words, her eyes closed in ecstasy. “Glad to be of service, ma’am.” His eyes closed, too. He guided her up and down on his cock, leisurely at first, then faster as their breathing became short and strained. She couldn’t stand another second of the wonderful agony and slid her fingers to her clit. The little nub was so tender that she came with a mere touch, doubling over in the pleasure. “Pete,” she wailed at the delicious feeling of his throbbing cock pumping into her. He pulled her all the way down to lie on top of him, her head over his heart. It had never been like this before. Oh, she’d had pleasure with other men, but she’d never allowed any of them to know as much about her as Pete did. She’d always feared their reaction if they knew the truth about her family. Not

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so with Pete. He must have been appalled, but he’d been nothing but sensitive and nonjudgmental. She kissed the center of his chest in gratitude. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You’re welcome, but what for exactly? My manly prowess?” Shaking with silent laughter, she said, “Yes, of course your manly prowess.” Raising her face to his, she took his lips and lost herself in the kiss. He cupped the back of her head, cradling it while he nipped and sipped at her mouth. I could do this forever. He rolled her onto her back again, held her tightly, and touched his lips to her cheeks and eyes, brushing them down her nose. “Go to sleep a little while longer. It’s not quite morning yet. I’ll make sure you get to work on time,” he assured her.

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Chapter Eight Sharon was in the lab sterilizing instruments when the intercom buzzed. She dried her hands before answering the phone. “Yes?” “Pete Rayne is up front to see you, Sharon.” “Pete? Okay, I’ll be right there.” Her lips lifted in a little Cheshire cat smile. Last night had been wonderful. They’d held each other and made love most of the night, and she wasn’t even tired. Well, maybe just a little. If she wasn’t careful, she could start feeling something for the man. His showing up here at her work might be proof he cared, too. When she rounded the corner into reception, she gasped at the sight of the white bandage over his forehead. “What happened, Pete? Are you all right?” “Can we go outside and talk for a bit?” His voice strained. She glanced back at the reception desk, where the two person office staff was watching them closely. “I’m taking a break. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He closed his hand around her elbow and steered her out the door. “Let’s go over there.” He pointed across River Road to the park and led her to a bench. “Share, I wanted to tell you before you started hearing about it from other people.” “Are you all right?” He was developing a black eye, with the bruise coming from under the bandage. He gripped both her hands and said, “I was shot.” “Holy God.” Her heart thudded heavily. She clutched at him. He was steady. She was not. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but he wouldn’t let go of her hands. “Pete, what happened?” “I’m all right. Just a bit of a headache, obviously,” he replied in a husky voice, not quite as steady as he pretended. “Pete, what happened?” she repeated.

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**** In as dispassionate a voice as he could muster, Pete related the events of the past few hours. He’d never been shot before, not even shot at. He was pretty spooked by the incident, but he didn’t want Sharon to worry. “Nickie was kidnapped this morning.” “My God, is she all right?” “Yes. She was shaken up and has some cuts and bruises, but other than that, she’s okay.” “Does Hank know?” “Yeah. He’s okay. Physically.” “But you were the only one shot?” “No.” He absently rubbed the bandage on his forehead and winced. She caressed him, her palm cupping the side of his face. Her expression almost broke his self-possession. “I’m really all right. The bullet just grazed my temple.” “But you’re cut.” She gently rubbed a thumb at the corner of his eye. “Glass.” “Pete, just tell me how it happened.” She bit nervously at her lower lip. “It’s such a crazy story.” He set his jaw and took her hands again. “An anonymous call came in to dispatch that Nickie had been kidnapped and was being held for ransom. Hank and I got to her house and started a search. Grant Carey showed up.” “Grant? Why was he there?” “He said he’d heard the call on his scanner. We searched the house, heard Dog barking from the basement. When Hank opened the door, Dog raced outside and attacked Grant. Hank pulled the dog off, who then took off out of the yard. Then he came back. It was like he was Lassie giving us a message to follow him.” “Why’d he attack Grant?” “You’ll see. We followed Dog to Grant’s trailer.” “Oh, no.” Her mouth formed an O of surprise. “Yeah. Grant had kidnapped her and tied her up in his trailer.”

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“How did you get shot?” “Hank was inside negotiating with Grant. I was going to take a shot at him through the window. He spotted me and shot out the glass.” “And Grant?” “I got a shot off. He’s in serious but stable condition.” “You were the only one beside him who was injured?” “Yeah. Like I said, Nickie has cuts and bruises, but she’ll be okay.” Sharon looked stunned. And scared. Maybe being the girlfriend of a cop was too much for her. Not every woman could take the worry of it. He didn’t want to lose her. Not over this. Not over anything. He’d been holding his breath while Hank dated her, waiting and watching, knowing Hank’s girlfriends never lasted. He wanted to be there to pick up the pieces. Sharon was his now, and he intended to keep her. “I’m fine, Share. It wasn’t serious. I just have a slight headache.” He brushed a fingertip across the groove of her frown. “Did you have a CAT scan?” He smiled at her anxious question. “An X-ray was all I needed. Really, honey, I’m all right. It didn’t even bleed much, it was so shallow.” She took a shaky breath and sucked on her lower lip. Her gaze investigated every inch of his face. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. Her arms went around his waist, her fingers clutching the material of his shirt. He smiled as he cuddled her, nuzzling her hair and whispering soothing sounds. She cared about him, too. He didn’t know if it was as much as he cared for her, but it was enough for now. **** Sharon drove out to Nickie’s house after Pete and Hank’s dad, Mark, left town. Hank had run from his feelings of guilt, believing Grant would never have hurt Nickie if their childhood history had been different. Hank and Grant’s older brother had been best friends in high school, but when the brother died in a swimming accident, Hank suddenly left town. Grant felt

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abandoned and became jealous of anyone Hank was seriously involved with. “Let’s have some coffee,” Nickie suggested, interrupting her packing. They settled across from each other in the kitchen, steaming cups in hand and a plate of sliced pound cake in the center of the table. “Are you going back to Chicago for good?” Sharon asked. “No, actually I’m coming back in a week or two,” Nickie said. “What if Pete and Mark can’t find Hank, or he won’t come back?” “You know,” Nickie changed the subject. “I never meant for all this to happen between Hank and me. I didn’t know until much later that you and he had been dating.” Sharon waved her hand dismissively. “I always knew Hank and I weren’t serious. Until you came along, he’d never been with anyone very long. It was obvious, almost from the beginning that he felt differently about you. More permanent.” “But it must have looked like I rolled into town and… I’m sorry if you were hurt.” “Honestly? I was at first, but Pete was there for me.” Sharon couldn’t help the smile quirking her lips. “In so many ways.” “I’m glad,” Nickie responded. “Pete’s a nice man.” “Yeah, very nice. I’ve never been with anyone like him.” “He’s protective of you.” Sharon rested her elbows on the table and cradled the coffee cup between her palms. “He is protective and supportive. He even met my family and didn’t run screaming into the night.” Nickie laughed. “That’s kind of a good sign, don’t you think? Hank and my sister butted heads a little, but I think they’ll get along.” “Do you plan to come back to stay permanently?” Nickie nodded. “I’m in love with Hank. I think he cares for me, too, but he feels too much guilt right now about Grant and too much pain about his father. I’m hoping Mark and Pete can talk some sense into him and bring him home.” “I’m sure he loves you.”

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“I’m just going back to Chicago to get my winter clothes. Then I’ll be back in Hank’s life whether he wants it or not.” Nickie laughed warily. “I’m sounding pretty confident, aren’t I?” “Who knows anything for sure when a man’s involved?” As the days passed, and Pete was still out of town looking for Hank, Sharon couldn’t get that thought out of her mind. It had always been her pattern not to trust the men in her life. She had no basis for it, no history of trust. Was Pete any different? Yes. Had any other man comforted her with an embrace? Had she ever asked for it or even allowed it? No to both. Pete was different. He didn’t ask leave to offer sympathy. Kindness and empathy were hard-wired into him. Oh, it would be so easy to surrender. Could she afford to risk her heart? He wasn’t like any man she’d ever met. He was confident and strong without being cocky or overbearing, and he’d always treated her with respect and affection. She didn’t know if she could risk getting closer to him, but she also didn’t know if she could let him go. What if he was the one? Grant could have killed him. He could die in the line of duty any day. Her body shuddered in a frisson of fear for him. He had to come back. She wanted to see his face again. To know he was safe. At least that. They’d work out the relationship in good time. Just bring him home safely. That’s all she asked.

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Chapter Nine Three months later “Hey, Share, you tired?” Pete gathered her close and dipped his hand from her waist to her hip, stroking over the curve of her bottom. She usually loved the way he touched her, but this time, she barely noticed the direction his hand had taken. The elevator doors opened onto a salmon-colored, marble-floored foyer and a mahogany half round table with an immense arrangement of flowers gracing the top. “Pete, what in the world did you do? Are you sure this is our room?” Blown away by the splendor, she absently fingered a petal, sniffing the fragrance appreciatively. The flowers were real. The room, she glimpsed through the arched entryway was as stunningly beautiful as the ones in the pages of an expensive home décor magazine. “Suite.” “Uh, yeah, sweet. And huge.” She angled her head for a glimpse into the living room. “Suite. It’s not a room, it’s a suite.” He sounded rather pleased with himself. She’d seen him slip the key card into a slot in the elevator, but it really hadn’t registered in her brain. Hank and Nickie’s wedding preparations and the drive to Chicago from Parkersburg happened in a flurry of excitement. Being here with Pete was wonderful and scary at the same time. She’d fallen hard for him. Did he feel the same? “It’s ours. Do you like it?” “Like it? What’s not to like, except the fear they’re going to come up and throw us out.”

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“You saw me use the key card. It’s no mistake,” he replied good naturedly, tightening his arm around her. “It’s amazing, that’s what it is,” she sighed. He ushered her through the entry hall and into the living room. A highly polished, cherry wood floor was the perfect foil for pristine white-on-white couches and jewel-toned chairs resting on faded antique Oriental rugs. It was so lovely. All she could do was shake her head in admiration. “You all right, honey?” His wide palm comfortably cupped her hip. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Nestling against his sheltering heat, she ordered herself to get control and not act like a country idiot seeing her first hotel suite. Even if she was, and it was, she didn’t have to advertise her hick-ness. “Well, I want everything to be perfect for you,” he murmured, turning her to face him. His white smile was teasing, and his golden-green eyes sparkled with mischief. Smiling at him, she thought, for the millionth time, how good looking he was. Classic features: strong jaw, straight teeth, vertical slash of a nose, dark blond hair perpetually unkempt because he always ran his fingers through it. Who would have imagined, in her job as a dental assistant that cleaning the teeth of her boyfriend would be a turn on? When he opened his mouth and she slipped in the saliva ejector, and even when she ordered him to spit, she had to keep her mind firmly on business. It was a testament to his innate sensuousness. Or her deeply-seated weakness. She tried not to roll her eyes at that notion. “It is October, and it is Michigan Avenue. The wind was pretty fierce out there.” “No, I’m fine,” she repeated. Move on, Share. Get a grip and start acting as if you know what you’re doing. She missed the heat of him when he left her to open tall, louvered double doors leading into a palatial bedroom. She’d thought the living room was outstanding. It was obvious the bedroom was the money room. A king-size bed with four delicately carved posts shrouded with filmy, white draperies, dominated the room. That was all she had a chance to see before his arms slid around her

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waist. He stepped into her field of vision and turned her face toward him. “Share, are you sure you don’t need something? Warming up? Me?” he murmured, his voice resonant with promise. His forefinger smoothed down the bridge of her nose and brushed over her lips to tap her chin twice. Just that delicate, sweet caress spun curls of heat through her body. He did this to her, made her feel safe and special. And scared the hell out of her with his intensity and sincerity. Her body warmed and instinctively melted further into his embrace, into a kiss, a sensuous, consuming onslaught of lips, teeth, and tongue. “Mmm.” She loved when he kissed her, loved the brushing and massaging of sensitive lips, loved just closing her eyes and relaxing into the heat of his masculine body. It was like coming home. She could kiss this man for hours. He was good at it, too. He didn’t rush things. She reveled in his toying and teasing. Even though he was always quickly aroused, his cock hard and throbbing, she loved that he still cared enough to take his time to arouse her to the very edge before tipping her over. There’d never been anyone like him in her life, and there never would be again. So, shoving her fear that this too shall pass down into the farthest depths of her heart, she advised herself to enjoy what she had at this moment. Tucking herself closely into the hard, muscular plane of his body, flattening her breasts against the softness of his suede blazer, she slid her arms around his waist and squeezed her fingers inside the back waistband of his jeans, stretching, reaching for his butt. She groaned at the flex of his hips, his rampant cock pressure-squeezed against her belly. Their sexual energies meshed so wonderfully, their desire for each other endless. He’d rescued her emotionally when Hank defected to Nickie, and physically when her father had shown up unexpectedly. They’d been together for a few months now, but sometimes she felt like such an inadequate mess she feared no one would ever truly care for her. The abandonment by her father when she was a child left a huge hole in her heart. Was

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Pete Rayne the man to fill that hole? Or would he come to his senses soon and run screaming from the chaos that was her life. Just enjoy the weekend. When she was with him, she forgot Hank’s last name, forgot about every other man. He, as usual, looked scrumptious. In his thigh-hugging jeans and chocolate-colored blazer over a crisp pink—of all colors— dress shirt, you’d never know he was a sheriff’s deputy in a small, hick county in Iowa. Very scrumptious, as a matter of fact. He nudged her with his body, edging her backward. “Wait a second, Pete.” She giggled and placed a hand on the middle of his chest. “What time is it?” “It’s about three, and, yes, we have time for this,” he whispered as he persistently prodded her toward the bed. “When do we have to be there?” She asked in a breathy, uneven whisper, meaning the wedding rehearsal. “Seven.” He nibbled along her jaw, down her neck. “And how long will it take to get there?” She tried to concentrate on getting the information. “Nickie said ten minutes by cab, so ten minutes plus five to get to the lobby and get a cab, makes fifteen minutes. That means we leave at six forty-five. How long do you need to dress?” he murmured directly into her ear. “Oh, at least an hour.” “How about forty-five minutes?” he teased, unbuttoning her blouse. He hadn’t even touched her bare skin yet, and she was hot and aroused. “I don’t know if that’s enough.” “Thirty.” What’d he say? Thirty? His negotiating technique was exquisite. And shameless. “Forty,” she groaned. They haggled like this all the time. She was amazed how quickly she’d learned to get ready, his mouth and his cock the perfect rewards for rushing the makeup. “I’ll give you the forty-five since I’m such a good guy, so we have three hours. Are you hungry?” The switch in subject threw her for a second. “Kind of,” she responded. “There should be a basket of goodies out in the living room.”

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“I’m not that hungry. Come here.” She pushed him down onto his back and began getting him out of his clothes so she could have her way with him.

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Chapter Ten Pete awoke to an empty bed. Smiling contentedly, he stretched his long body to lie on propped up pillows on the fourposter. His girl, an expensive hotel suite, a long weekend, life doesn’t get any better than that. The sounds of the running shower tempted him, but they’d never get to the rehearsal if he joined her there. He cared too much about his partner to screw up any part of this wedding. Even though Hank had played the field, he’d been emotionally isolated until Nickie came along and turned him into a onewoman man. Pete couldn’t be happier to see this wedding. Now he needed to accept the fact he, himself, was becoming domesticated. This weekend, he was going to test the waters to see if Sharon felt the same. The shower stopped, and a towel-clad head peeked around the doorway. “Come on, slug,” she teased. “Time to get duded up.” Then she whisked back into the bathroom. She’s right, damn it. He levered himself out of bed and sauntered into the steamy room. “Want some privacy before I start my makeup?” Did he ever. “Just a minute, okay?” The bathroom itself was immense—green marble counters, a black floor which must be heated because his toes were toasty, separate shower and giant tub. He had plans for that tub. Later. He showered and shaved at the second sink while she finished her hair. He had to remind himself to be careful with the razor, because all he really wanted to do was ogle her. Standing at the sink next to her, doing mundane tasks like getting ready to go out, felt so comfortable. Ho boy am I whipped. “Fifteen minutes, pal.” She tapped the counter to get his attention, a smug smile stealing across her features. In the mirror, he held her gaze for a long moment. Promising things,

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sensuous things, before she strolled out. Hank. Hank and Nickie’s wedding. He had to keep reminding himself why they were here. “Holy shit,” he blurted when he came out of the bathroom a moment later. The dress she was zipping up lovingly hugged every one of her gorgeous curves. “Is this all right?” she asked, peering at herself in the mirror. “Is it too tight? Too low cut?” She tugged at the line of material across her breasts. He had to shake himself. As beautiful and stacked as she was, he had to remember she was uncomfortable with compliments, especially about her breasts. Unbelievable, but true. She was a girl who looked good in anything she wore, but put her in a sexy dress and stilettos, and she was breathtaking. He wasn’t sure why she didn't see it, however. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that dress. You look beautiful, honey. Classy. Mouthwatering, as a matter of fact.” He moved toward her as if being pulled by velvet ropes. Mm, now there’s an idea. Tying her arms above her head and feasting on her spectacular naked body. Later. The contrast in the mirror aroused him even more; the darkhaired, petite, curvy Sharon dwarfed by his larger body standing right behind. “Jesus, you’re making me hard just looking at you. I gotta back off, or we’ll never get out of this room.” He placed his hands lightly around her waist and winked at her reflection. “You’re sure we have to go?” “Yes, baby.” She rolled her eyes, but smiled back. “We’re getting down to the wire. You’d really better hurry.” “One thing, Share, are you all right with this? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” After all, he got her on the rebound from Hank. A pink flush grew from her breasts up her neck. Her lips parted, and he saw a flash of embarrassment in her eyes. He really wanted her to be all right and held his breath at his need for her to be okay with this wedding. She gazed back at him, her deep blue eyes intensely calm and serious. “I’m just fine with the way things turned out, Pete.” “Me too.” Relieved, he angled his head to brush his lips over her shoulder and nip at her neck.

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“Hey, do not be leaving any hickeys on me, sweetheart!” She giggled and scrambled away. “Not to mention, I don’t want any wet spots on the back of my dress.” “Baby, if there are any, it’s your fault.” He gazed down the length of his body to his cock, already jutting out, a small drop of pearly liquid oozing on the crest. Without raising his head, he watched her watch him. Her breasts rose and fell roughly, and a flush of arousal tinted her cheeks. God, she’ll outshine the bride in that dress. The dark, icy blue color set off her pale skin and dark hair. He loved it when she wore her hair loose and full around her face and shoulders. She was so hot. And sweet. Beautiful, with a combination of shy sensuality. He held his breath, ground his back teeth, and tried to quick freeze his libido. Hank and Nickie. We’re here for their wedding. Focus on that.

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Chapter Eleven After the rehearsal and dinner, the boys and girls separated. Nickie’s sister was an actress in the Chicago theater scene and knew all the hot drinking and dancing spots. Bobbie took them to a specialized bar and introduced Sharon to chocolate martinis. By the time she got back to the penthouse, she felt extremely buzzed; her joints relaxed, her libido shrieking. The place was so amazing and glamorous. Pete wasn’t in yet, so she prowled around the living room, glancing out the French doors at the skyline. Wouldn’t making love on the terrace in the summer be awesome? Wandering into the bedroom, she grazed her fingertips over the luxurious bedding, noticing a maid, who’d nestled a tray of chocolates and fruit in front of the pillows, more than the wrapped mint at lesser hotels, had neatened it up. The bathroom was now clean too. A basket of scented soaps and oils sat prominently on the counter, thick candles in dishes with matches at the ready. The scene was set for heavy seduction. However, if he didn’t get back soon, he’d lose his window of sexual opportunity. She’d be dead asleep. She draped her dress over a chair, planning to lie down on the comfy chaise longue, pull the afghan over her, and just close her eyes for a minute. **** “Oh, shit. Share, are you here?” Dreaming. A thunderous sound jolted her awake, like a bull tearing through the sophisticated penthouse space. “Share, where are you?” She groaned a greeting. At least she thought she did. In her dream she did. For some reason her eyes wouldn’t open, thanks

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to numerous chocolate martinis. He’d never be able to find her if she couldn’t open her eyes. “Honey? Sweetie? Are you awake?” His voice, the deep, sexy timbre of his voice, crawled rousingly through her. Her weak and relaxed limbs belied the tension in her breasts, and she moaned at the rhythmic fluttering pulse of her clit. His big body hovered over her. She turned her head, and, without opening her eyes, mumbled, “Didja have a good time?” “Oh, baby, yeah.” His voice was all low and husky. She wrinkled up her nose. “Uh. Stinky cigar.” Feebly lifting her hand off her stomach, she waved it in his direction. “So sleepy, baby,” she murmured. “Shit, yur sleepin’. Little Willie’s gotta go to bed lonely?” “Unh, yeah.” She drifted off again. **** Crap. Light. Pete slit open one eye and immediately saw the person he wanted to wake up with forever. She lay on her stomach, face turned toward him, dark hair in wild disarray around her head. She was snoring. So cute. Little, dainty sounds, but still snoring. He rolled toward her and pressed his lips to her shoulder. Nudging aside the sheet, he encountered her back. Hallelujah, bare, bare, bare. Heart pounding and instantly awake. At least he was. He groaned at the peremptory, thick beat of the blood in his cock when he nuzzled the sheet past her ass. Oh, bonus. A beautiful round ass in a hot little thong. Coming up on hands and knees, he licked and nibbled down her spine and straddled her thighs, admiring the contrast of his heavy, dusky, engorged morning cock poised over her soft, white cheeks. Oh, man. He rubbed its head, smoothing the moist, sensitive crest across her velvety skin, down the tempting, mysterious line. Dark thoughts churned. Delicately, he slipped his forefinger underneath the elastic band lying over the little dimples, right above the curve of her ass. Traced it. Pulled it. Watched it pull out of her crack. He groaned. His hips surged, his brain clamored with a message of fuck her now.

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She squirmed and moaned, coming awake, fingers fisting in the sheets. He could tell the second she became aware of him. Aware of him lying over her like a blanket. “Little Willie?” she murmured sleepily, obviously not up to brilliant conversation yet. Didn’t matter, neither was he. He licked his suddenly dry lips. “Yeah, Little Willie’s hurtin’,” he said in husky, pseudo despair. “He needs some soothin’.” “What exactly does LW want?” she murmured, sweet as honey. They’d played the LW game almost from the beginning. Little Willie was definitely not little. Especially right now. LW wanted desperately, needed desperately to slide into her. He lowered his chest to drape his body over hers, to envelope her in his searing heat and drifted every little word sensually and sizzling into her ear, “Baby, LW wants what he always wants— your hot, luscious, sweet pussy.” He traced a path with his fingertips over her shoulders, down her spine to her waist. Hands around her waist, he yanked her ass up in the air, leaned forward, and filled his palms with her breasts. She wriggled; her delicious body ecstasy in his arms. “But, first, we gotta get you nekked.” He tugged. Together, they wrestled her out of the thong. His heart and dick expanded in tandem. The woman had the body of a goddess, and now the goddess that was Sharon Timmons was bare-assed naked and shifting restlessly beneath him, trying to turn over. “No, baby, I want you this way.” He pressed his palm firmly in the small of her back. She stilled. “Pete?” “S’okay, sweetheart.” He reached around her waist to slide two fingers over her pussy lips and capture her clit. She whimpered, arching her butt into grinding contact with his dick. He sat back on his heels, pulling her up onto his thighs. One hand continued fondling her cleft. The other cupped a breast and stroked gently, circling her nipple without touching the tip. “Yes,” she moaned, rolling her head back and forth on his shoulder. He pinched, relentlessly increasing the pressure.

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“Oh God, more,” she pleaded. “Harder.” “You’re not the boss’a me,” he whispered into her ear, as he did what she asked anyway. “Yesss.” “Do you want Little Willie, baby?” “Big,” she huffed. “I want Big Willie.” Her body writhed continuously against his chest, working her butt into his groin. “Where?” It was becoming harder to talk, even in a husky whisper. Nestled between her ass cheeks, his cock throbbed. If he didn’t fuck her soon, he’d die. Die a horrible, painful death. “Where do you want him, baby?” he groaned the words. “Inside me,” she sobbed. “In my pussy. Oh, God, Pete, fuck me nowww.” He pushed her forward again, shoulders flat to the bed, ass tilted up. Roughly spreading her thighs with his, he knelt between them and found her silky hole. Sliding a finger in, he hissed in a breath at the smooth, slick, hot interior of her cunt. Withdrawing, he tickled her clit. She pressed her face into the pillow and wrapped her hands around the nape of her neck. With long, low, and agonizingly sexy moans and wiggles, she thrust and ground her ass against him. “Baby, please.” “Okay, okay,” he growled. He pulled back and squeezed his cock inside her, one slow inch at a time. For about two heartbeats. Then, all sense of self-control failed. He rammed himself in, hard, threw his head back, and shouted. He stilled, cock buried deeply. Back arched. Eyes closed. He gripped her hips, holding her in place. “Pete,” she moaned. He heard her low, guttural cry. What was left of his rational mind, snapped. “Share,” he groaned. Dropping over her back, caging her in with hands braced next to her shoulders, he withdrew. And thrust. Pumped back into her. Tried to fill his lungs with air. Felt her taut around his prick, felt the searing, rhythmic pressure of her deep within his soul. Felt her heartbeat in the flesh of her tight cunt. She grunted. He grunted. The flutters of her interior muscles squeezed and massaged him, which only made him wilder. He continued

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in his frenzied bucking and thrusting until scorching heat hammered his balls, and his release exploded in a convulsive, rip-roaring orgasm. “Jesus, baby,” he gasped, “You can be the boss of me.” Crashing to his side, pulling her with him, he clamped his arm heavily around her waist. Her skin was pink with arousal, and a fine perspiration coated her body. God, she’s one exceptional woman. **** After dozing and more loving, Sharon was glad Pete ordered a room service breakfast. Here, they were in this absolutely fabulous penthouse suite, and they’d hardly left the bedroom. At least now, a table was set up in the living room, before the French doors leading to the terrace. That lovely terrace. A cold wind shook the leaves of the trees outside and rattled the panes of glass, but they were toasty warm inside, all wrapped up in the thick terry cloth hotel robes. “Remember that first night?” he asked as he forked a large bite of omelet into his mouth. “You mean at Nook’s?” A pang like a shard of ice settled in her stomach. Why would he bring that up now? “Yeah.” She stared at her plate. That was the night Hank ditched her for Nickie. She’d been shocked and devastated. Nevertheless, it was also the night she’d first danced with Pete and the first time he kissed her. Glancing at him now, she didn’t know if he was reminding her of the bad part or the good part, but his golden gaze warmed her from the heart to the tips of her fingers and toes. “I was just thinking about the crazy way things happened that night.” “Yeah, it was uncomfortable to say the least,” she murmured. “I’m glad Hank left when he did. He did me a favor.” She couldn’t help but quirk her lips in a smile. As painful as it had been to have Hank walk out on her, she’d ultimately gotten the better bargain in Pete. He was so handsome, fair to her

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dark, tall and thickly muscled to her soft, petite femininity. Even his morning stubble was gorgeous, actually sparkling in the rays from sunrise over Lake Michigan. He rose from the table and strode over to the stereo housed in the media armoire. “I brought some CDs,” he said as he turned on the system and started one playing. “Come on.” He held out his hand to her. “Dance with me, Share?” She bit the corner of her lower lip. That’s what he’d said that night. She remembered it clearly. He’d raised a hand to her hair and twisted his finger into the curls around her ear, then brushed his knuckle across her cheek, tickling her with the strand of hair. This time, he just pulled her close, tugging her into contact with his body, twining his arms around her waist. The thick robes and heavy knots of the ties pressed into her stomach. Or was that his penis? She slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest, sighing with happiness. He was a man who knew how to hug. His long, muscled arms sheltered her, as they had that night. It had been the start. Of something good, as the saying goes. Her heart had still been pounding in the embarrassment of the whole bar witnessing her humiliation. His dancing, or rather swaying back and forth, shuffling his feet from side to side, went a long way to start her healing. Now she considered herself completely recovered, with Pete Rayne the doctor who cured her. “But you just danced with me to make me feel better.” Forget about all that old stuff. You’re in the here and now, and you’re the happiest you’ve ever been. She raised her face to find him smiling down at her. He tightened his arms. “Maybe I wanted me to feel better. I don’t think I realized until I took you in my arms how much I’d wanted you there.” “You hardly ever talked to me the whole time I was with Hank.” “That doesn’t mean I never noticed you.” His husky, heated words enticed her. He circled her ear with his fingers and then wrapped them around to cup her head. “But you were my buddy’s girlfriend. Off limits.”

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She shimmied uncontrollably. Leaning her head back, eyes closed, she just enjoyed his light massaging of her scalp. “You wore a short skirt and a tank top that night. I was desperate to find out what was underneath.” “You were?” She was almost insensate with the sensuousness of his hands in her hair, stroking her head. She loved that. “Yeah.” He lightly brushed his lips over hers, peppering little butterfly kisses along her jaw. “And the next night you had on that long, tight, black dress. Even though covered from neck to ankle, I could still see every curve. I was really ready to…well, you know.” He gave a pained snort. “Find out what was underneath?” she teased and giggled when he gently bit her on the side of her neck, where it met her shoulder. She even enjoyed the scrape of his morning whiskers across her tender skin. “Yeah, and I love your hair down, lying over your shoulders.” He traced the strands. “You know, these robes are too thick, and the knots are jabbing. I wanna feel your skin.” He slid warm fingers under her robe, pressing in insistent little circles over her satiny shoulders. She responded by trailing kisses up the center of his chest. Leaning back in his arms, she tugged at the tie. When it loosened, she parted the lapels of his robe and swept her hands across his chest, following them with more kisses over his hard pecs. Little whimpering sounds escaped her throat. He shuddered. His deep groan reverberated through the muscle and skin of his chest. That shudder aroused her, almost more than anything else. To know how deeply she affected him by her lovemaking was an aphrodisiac. As if she needed one with him. “I love looking at you,” she murmured, dragging her fingers down, sweeping the front of the robe completely open. Looking at his magnificent body was a pleasure. The furrow down the middle of his chest, the firm, rounded ridges of muscle on either side. “Even your tummy button is hot. Cute. A cute little innie for such a big guy.” She wiggled her thumb in the hollow and sneaked a peek up at him.

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His narrowed gaze seemed to watch her hands. His lashes fluttered; his fingers pressed harder. “Yeah, baby…” “And here’s the pièce de résistance.” His belly quivered under her hands. The space below his navel, long and flat, led to the sweet, soft darker hair at his groin. That was where the magic began. She grasped his cock with both hands, earning another deep groan and a pump of his hips. “I love looking at you too, baby.” His voice was an unsteady whisper. He tugged her robe open and did her one better, brushing it off her shoulders. It didn’t hit the floor. It hung up on the crooks of her arms, because she wouldn’t give up her prize—his penis. He pulled her against him. Her breasts flattened. She shimmied, abrading her nipples on his chest hair, feeling their hard little points poke his muscles. His cock filled her hands. She opened them and palmed him tightly, rolling him back and forth on her belly. He was already aroused, the slit at the crest weeping, a drop of semen perched there. She brushed her thumb over it, felt his cock harden and thicken. “Oh, baby, baby,” she moaned. “All right, that’s it,” he groaned. He lifted her off her feet, carrying her to the couch. He bounced in a flurry of thick, white cotton to a sitting position on the sofa. Expertly, he maneuvered her to straddle his thighs, his hands around her waist. “Mmm, I like this,” she giggled. Both robes completely open, she looked down at herself, shuddering at the sexy sight of her round breasts, their dark nipples arrayed before him like an offering. She made it one. “Pete,” she moaned, cupping her breast. “Suck my nipples.” She hunched her shoulders in anticipation of the pleasure. “Please.” They ached for the lovely, sweet, wet suckle of his lips. “Come here, sweetheart.” Hands under her arms, he urged her up his body so her breasts were lip level and suckled her nipple into his mouth. Her heart stopped. His eyes closed in concentration, his strong features softened. The draw of his mouth, the swipe of his tongue, the nip of his teeth on the tip made her tremble, made her clit flutter and throb with each heartbeat. She grasped his penis, positioned it right, and took it, just the tip of it, inside her vagina.

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“Pete, Pete. My God,” her whimper matched his growl, which vibrated from his mouth across the skin of her breast. That first feel of stretching, of opening her body for him, was glorious. Her thighs quivered, her eyes fluttered shut. She didn’t know how long she could hold herself up like this when all she wanted was to sink down and bury his cock deep inside. “Jesus, baby, you’re killing me.” He dropped his head to the back of the couch. “God, that feels good.” He pulsed, filling her a little more. More deeply and thickly. Right now. She needed him right now. No more teasing. No more playing. “Fuck me, Pete,” she whispered into his ear, her teeth gritted, and voice hoarse with passion. The next second, she was on the floor, on her back, his cock hard inside her. At the same moment, he took her lips, ate at them with big wet swipes of his tongue, thrusting it in partnership with the thrusts of his cock. He pushed her hard with his hips, nudged hers up higher so he could go deeper. She locked her legs around his waist, arms around his neck to hang on. He thrust and fucked. Fierce grunts sounded like they came all the way from his gut, intensifying her excitement until her shouts matched his bellows. Her vaginal walls contracted. How she could feel the delicate pulsating along with his pounding cock, she didn’t know. Insane with her need, she twisted her body to take every inch of him. His thrusts became longer, harder, more amazingly powerful. He came with a guttural shout and with the sensation of hot, thick, liquid jets filling her full. Huffing and puffing, his chest expanding, struggling for air, he finally rolled them to their sides. Still joined, but at least all that muscle mass wasn’t crushing her. “Jesus, Share, are you all right?” his murmur barely above a whisper. “Oh, God, yes, mmm.” She choked with the surprised emotion of her love for him, the longing for the returning of that love. “I can’t move,” he added. “Mm mm. No.” He slid the side of his robe over her body and snuggled her up close to his chest.

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She wanted to giggle, cry, or howl with the unutterable pleasure of being with this man. His heat and breath buffeting her face; his hard arm against her back, pulling her into him. There was nowhere else on earth she’d rather be.

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Chapter Twelve Pete stood at the front of the chapel next to his friend and partner, Hank Crossman. He angled his stance so he could watch Sharon during the ceremony. She outshone the bride. The shimmering golden dress displayed every one of her considerable attributes in a very classy way. Her stunning profile shown to advantage by her hairdo—a sophisticated knot on top of her head, little tendrils curling around her ears and nape. He looked forward to shaking all the pins out later, in the privacy of the penthouse. This best man thing was going to be a piece of cake. Stand with his friend, hand him the wedding rings, and toast the happy couple at the reception. However, his scalp prickled with the emotion of the occasion. Hank had fought his feelings for Nickie, had to be chased down in the next state, and then convinced by his father not to let the golden opportunity of the love of a woman like Nickie get away. ...your life will be full of peace and joy... Pete filled his lungs with a shuddery, uneven breath at the sight of Sharon’s rapt face. The setting sun through the stained glass window above the altar dappled her skin with a golden light. ...comfort her, honor and keep... She was uncertain about him. From what he could figure out, other men had used her insecurities, loneliness, and beauty for their own purposes. He found he had this great need inside him to protect her, to reassure her he loved... ...wherever you go, you will always return to one another. ...her. Oh, God. His mother always told him it would hit him in the gut when it happened. Some of his siblings were in loving relationships, but after all these years he’d been afraid he

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was immune. Sharon was special; he’d known that all along. He was now beginning to understand how special. Silence. She returned his gaze, her lips parted. She raised her hand to her neck, gave him the finger. Huh? He frowned. She waggled her finger. The ring. She was signaling him? The ring! Oh, Christ, I mean cripes. He was in a church, after all. He glanced at Hank, who waited patiently, his hand out palm up, a distinctly nonreligious smirk on his face. Shi...shoot. He rustled in his jacket pocket for the rings, flop sweat popping out above his upper lip. Here, here they are. No worries. Crisis averted. He got through the rest of the ceremony without further embarrassment. Whom love has joined, let none put asunder. His heart pounded. You don’t discover you’re in love every day, especially in a place as momentous as your friend’s wedding. Hank and Nickie had flown back down the short aisle, and guests already clustered around them. His job was over— except for the toast, and he had that down pat. She stood at her place in the chapel, obviously waiting for him. Would she believe it when he told her he was in love with her? The grin on her face told him she hadn’t forgotten his gaffe with the ring. Well, he’d been distracted big time, looking at her. **** Pete Rayne sporting a tux set her heart to tripping and turned her body to kindling. Six foot two of broad shoulders, long legs, and tousled blond hair. The man was scrumptious. Sharon felt so proud walking into the banquet room on his arm. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man. She wasn’t going to wallow in the let down she’d undoubtedly have soon, once their affair was over. They were having amazing sex, but no promises for the future made. She only had him for now. He snagged two glasses of champagne and led her straight to the dance floor. The number was fast, but he slid his arm around her waist as if it was slow dancing, the cold of the goblet resting on her back.

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“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmured as he nuzzled her cheek. “Did you buy this dress in Parkersburg?” “Thank you, my dear,” she replied in a singsong rhythm. “Actually, I did see a couple of things I liked at home, but I drove into Des Moines and found this one.” He noticed. Both the ice blue dress from last night and this one, cost much more than she usually spent, but she wanted him to be proud of her. She felt like a princess in the amber sheath with the kicky little ruffle around her knees. The matching beaded silk sweater didn’t warm her as much as cover the spaghetti straps during the chapel service. “Well, your dress looks very fine, young lady. And I’m not just saying that because I want to get you out of it ASAP.” He gazed down at her, his hazel eyes warm, his smile sensual and provocative. “Whew,” she purred, leaning against him. “I need something to cool me down.” “On my account, I hope.” “Oh, yeah.” After all the guests took their seats, it was his province to offer the wedding toast. She had no idea what he’d say, but he liked his partner Hank a lot. He said he’d given toasts at his brothers’ weddings back in Arizona before he moved to Iowa, so it was no sweat. Clinking a champagne goblet with a fork, he held the glass out. “Well, what can I say about this outgoing, fun-loving guy?” Most of the assembled crowd, including her, burst out laughing at this hyperbole. Hank narrowed his eyes and glared at Pete. “Oh, wait, that’s a whole other speech about someone else.” He beamed, pretending to dig through the inside breast pocket of his jacket. “Seriously, I’ve known Hank Crossman for over three years and have been his partner for most of that time. He sincerely loves his job and is a great investigator.” He raised his glass to his lips, as if finished. Just when everyone followed suit, Pete lowered the glass and held it out again. Groans abounded. “I know for a fact he fell for Nickie Grace the minute he laid eyes on her. I was there. But I’m not sure she did the same.”

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A smiling Nickie looked up at Pete and shook her head slightly. “Okay,” he went on, his lips quirking in a huge smile. “She didn’t.” Hank scowled, waving his hand in a let’s speed it up sign. “Just hold it up a minute, buddy,” he said with a laugh then let his voice get serious. “I am very happy Hank and Nickie found each other and the warmth of their extended families.” He tipped his glass in the direction of Nickie’s parents and sister, then turned to acknowledge Hank’s dad. “May they have many happy years and many beautiful children together. And thank you, guys, it’s been an honor being your best man.” He held up his glass again. “To love and its reward.” “To love!” echoed around the room. Surreptitiously dabbing at her tears, Sharon said, “That was lovely.” They clinked glasses and sipped. “Thank you, honey.” He bent to her and brushed his lips over a wet drop set to roll down her cheek. His warm breath bathed the side of her face, and she felt suspended in time. The moment was sweet, even though her feelings jumbled. They seemed so close to something wonderful, but would a day like this ever come for her? Pete cared about her, but did he care enough or was he still looking around? She silently repeated what was becoming her mantra. Enjoy it while you’ve got it. After dinner, the music began, and Pete and Hank goofed around. It was hysterical to see the two big, strapping hunk-oramas dancing with each other, clowning around, certainly not unsure about their sexuality. The bride approached her. “You look gorgeous, Nickie.” And she did. Her wedding gown was a strapless, narrow fitting sheath to her ankles. She had a terrific figure, but Sharon wondered about the little pooch of her stomach. Just thinking of Hank as a father made her smile. He’d been a wild man until Nickie came to town. Since then, he hadn’t looked at another woman. “Thank you, Sharon. I hope you’re having a good time.” “Oh, yes. Pete’s making sure of that.”

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They both turned toward the still dancing men and rolled their eyes, laughing so hard they cried. “If we didn’t know better, I’d say they made a cute couple,” Nickie had to shout, since the crowd had started cheering the idiots on. Then she motioned Sharon back to the table, where she sat with a palm over her belly. That’s when Sharon was sure Nickie was pregnant. “You know, I love him so much.” “I know. I see how you are together,” Sharon responded. Nickie’s fair skin flushed and layered with sheen of sweat. “Are you all right? Do you want me to get him?” “I’m really fine. You can probably guess what’s going on.” Nickie lightly patted her tummy. “He’s so happy. I think he’s really surprised at how happy.” “Nickie, he needs you. He always has. He just didn’t know you until now.” Sharon gave Nickie’s arm a reassuring pat, telling her with more than words alone that she wasn’t jealous or angry Hank was with Nickie now. “Now, let’s go get those guys before they run off on the honeymoon together.” “Good idea. After all, I want to dance with my husband.” Nickie charged onto the dance floor to claim him. Sharon, right behind her, tapped Pete’s shoulder. “May we cut in?”

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Chapter Thirteen “I’d like a dance with Sharon, if you don’t mind.” Before anyone could object, Hank swept her away with an arm around her waist and grasped her hand in the traditional waltz position. She glanced toward Nickie, who smiled and nodded at them as she took Pete’s arm. Their heads tipped together. She saw Nickie say something to him, saw him look back at her. He didn’t look jealous, just thoughtful. This was the first time she’d been alone with Hank since their breakup. Even that had only consisted of his uncomfortable announcement to her that he had feelings for Nickie. “Congratulations, Hank,” Sharon said. “Sharon, I’m going to say one more time I’m sorry about us. I hope you’re not still too mad at me.” “I’m not mad.” They hadn’t moved far. Hank was kind of like Pete in the dancing department. Sway and shuffle. “I knew we were just dating. I don’t think I ever expected it to last.” He raised an eyebrow in mock dismay. “Oh, come on, Hank, you know you weren’t a one-woman man. You played the field big time,” she laughed goodnaturedly. She could afford to be generous. “Yeah, I guess I did.” “But the night I saw you chase Nickie out of Nook’s, I knew something was different for you. You never would have chased another woman like that. You didn’t need to.” He had the grace to keep silent. They shuffled around in a circle. “Nickie’s pregnant.” He couldn’t keep his smile down, white teeth gleaming against his tan. “I guessed.” She laughed out loud. “God, you look pleased with yourself.” “Yeah.”

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“Nickie’s good for you. You’re so in love with each other.” “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I love her. I can’t believe I’m actually saying this out loud to another human being.” “It’s all right.” She patted his shoulder. He was taller than Pete, by a couple of inches, and she couldn’t believe she’d once thought they fit together perfectly. With Pete’s height, it was much easier to put her arms around his shoulders. Oh, she was so over Hank. “Just love both of them.” “Pete’s crazy about you.” She closed her eyes a moment, savoring that possibility, fighting and failing to keep a smile off her face. “I really hope so.” “I wish you everything good, Sharon.” Hank’s voice took on a husky seriousness. “He’s a great guy.” “Yeah, I think so.” “Lousy dancer…” They were still laughing when they separated. “Congratulations, you two,” she said to Hank. “Have a wonderful honeymoon.” She headed to the ladies’ room, needing some alone time, away from the crowd. Lots to think about. Pete. Maybe a future with Pete? Maybe her luck was changing, and she had Hank and Nickie to thank for that. Leaving the ladies’ room, she decided she wasn’t quite ready to return to the reception. She detoured to the hotel bar, finding an empty stool at the end. This had been a gorgeous day, a gorgeous wedding, and she wore a gorgeous dress. Oh, and she was with the most gorgeous man alive. She closed her eyes and listened to the soft jazz strains from the little group in the bar. Suddenly, strong arms enclosed her on each side, large hands balancing on the bar. Silky lapels, and little shirt studs imprinted on her back. Scented with the very lightest of colognes, warmed by the heat of dancing, it all combined to create his personal Pete aroma. “I’ve been looking for you, darlin’,” he whispered, his breath wafting over her shoulder. He dipped his head and nipped at her ear. She tipped back, to look at him upside down. “Well, here I am.”

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He canted her head right side up with a tap on her chin and, just for a second, brushed his lips gently over hers. “Were you hiding?” Swiveling her stool around, he stepped close to press his muscular thigh against her while he deepened the kiss; lengthened the kiss. She lost herself, clutched his lapel to keep her balance. It was a balance problem more in her mind than body. There was no way she could physically fall. He had hold of her. Emotionally, she had already fallen. How could she rein in the delicious, tender, hot, passionate feelings he evoked in her? Did she want to? Did she need to? “No, I wasn’t hiding. Just taking a breather.” “Good, ‘cause I don’t want to lose you,” he murmured, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. “Thank you for trying to remind me about the rings. I don’t even want to tell you what I thought you were doing.” She turned her palm and caressed his cheek, brushed her thumb across his lower lip. “I can just imagine what you thought. The look on your face was priceless.” She giggled huskily, until he licked her thumb. He’d crowded out the person next to her and appropriated the stool, pulling it closer, spreading his legs to slide in on either side of hers. Heat radiated from him, filling her senses with him, with his sweet passion. She gazed at his wonderful lips and whispered, “Kiss me again.” He pumped his hips, pushing his cock against her knees. “I plan to kiss you all over, baby,” he promised in his low, sexy growl. “Excuse me, sir and madam. Why don’t you take this upstairs?” She heard the bartender’s authoritative request through her sensual haze, but it took her a minute to process it. Then her head whipped toward him, saw him looking at them over his half-glasses. “Pete,” she muttered. “We’ve gotta get out of here. This is so embarrassing.” Pete bristled, tensed as if he was going to argue, but she pressed her hand on his thigh, high up on his thigh, to remind him of what they were doing. He paused, looked down at her hand, glanced back up to her eyes, and got the message. He

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pulled out a couple of twenties, slapped them on the bar, growled at the bartender, and swept her quickly away. **** In the elevator on the way up to the penthouse, he took the opposite corner. Just like boxers. Well, maybe not fighters. He was being polite. Until they reached the room. Then there’d be no rules. No restraint. No resistance. His chest hurt from the stress of controlling himself. He’d almost embarrassed both of them in the bar, humping her knees as he did. “I’m sorry about the bar,” he offered in a strangled voice. “What?” “Christ! Can’t this crate move any faster?” He looked frantically up to the controls, but there weren’t any floor markers. It was an express. Then why isn’t it expressing, damn it? “Share, I’m sorry, but I’m trying to keep from fucking you right here in the elevator.” Whoosh. The doors opened onto the foyer. “Thank God.” He swept her up in his arms and marched toward the double doors of the bedroom. “I don’t want to ruin your dress, so I’m gonna get it off you right now. Okay?” He put her down, turned her to unzip it, and slipped the pins out of her hair to loosen it to fall on her shoulders. She turned back to him and started working on his shirt studs. “Wait,” he said, shrugging out of the tux jacket. He brushed the little straps off her shoulders, and the whole dress slithered to the floor, draping on her sexy sandals and over his big wing tips. “Christ.” The studs were gone, the shirt was open. Her fingers stroked his chest. She massaged the muscles. Heat rolled over his skin. She pinched his nipples and electric charges detonated, racing toward his cock. Her bra, strapless and of some shimmery, flesh-colored lace, rode low on her breasts, her nipples almost popping out. He dragged a fingertip over the soft mounds. “Oh, Sharon.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss on her rounded flesh, plumping her up with his palms.

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She whimpered, pushed her breasts up into his face, and slid her fingers through his hair to cup his head. He lavished wet kisses all over her chest as his thumbs swiped over her velvety nipples, around in little circles, pressing harder each time. “Yes, oh yes, yes. Come here,” she ordered, pulling his head up. He lifted his heavy eyelids, craving more. “Kiss me.” Their lips met, hard, his tongue thrusting in, throat humming. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand bracing the center of her back, the other curving down to caress her ass. Bare ass. Oh, Jesus. He ate at her mouth and slid his hand—not the one on her ass, he wasn’t moving that lucky hand—to finish shaking the pins out of her hair. She broke away. She laughed a deep, throaty sound that only inflamed him, and said, “God, you are so sexy. Where’s Little Willy? I want to make him big.” She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, sank to her knees at his feet, and began working at his belt buckle and zipper. Oh, yeah, baby. In no mood to wait, he helped, shoving his pants and briefs down, toeing off his shoes, yanking off his socks. Warm fingers smoothed up and around his legs. Her palms ruffled the fine hairs on his thighs, braced the sides of his hips. She cupped his ass, kneading and caressing, tracing those inquisitive fingers down the center. He braced both feet wide to steady himself and looked down over the solid plane of his belly. What he saw made him sweat. The goddess that was Sharon Timmons knelt before him, the pillows of her breasts mounded over the whispy bra, her dark hair contrasted against the creamy glow of her skin. He was a god to her goddess, powerful and impressive. His balls contracted, drawing into his body. The heat of it, the suddenness, surprised him. He’d been more than half hard all night. All day. Thank God for long tux jackets. Now he was uncomfortably stiff, an almost painful pressure centered at the base of his cock. She kissed his thighs, letting her hair brush over his dick, the light, fluttering sensations driving panting groans out of him.

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The little witch was purposely teasing him. Purposely not touching him where he wanted it most. Christ, he was going to pay her back. As soon as he could unlock his knees. Her tongue. The wet slide across the head, like licking an ice cream cone. Delicate at first, then sloppy, greedy. “Yessss. Suck me, baby,” he pleaded, not too proud to beg.

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Chapter Fourteen She shook her head, hair brushing against his thighs. “I’m going to drive you insane first.” “Yeah, yeah, you are, sweetheart,” Pete growled. He arched, his head dropped back. When she grasped him in her hot fist, he clutched her scalp. “Shit. I’m gonna get you for this.” “Ooo, I’m scared.” She held him, licked the sides of his penis, dragged her tongue along the sensitive vein underneath, and sucked at the ridge circling the head. Everything but the main attraction. His thigh muscles shook. He had little confidence his knees would hold. “Share,” he groaned her name, cupped the sides of her face, drew fierce fingers through her hair. Insistent, demanding fingers. She swiped her tongue base to tip. “Yeah, baby,” he whispered, his fingers scrabbling, mussing up her hair. “What, Petey? What do you want? Tell me.” Each word punctuated by suckling nips, a scrape of her teeth around the ridge, over the sensitive tip. A searing need stirred deep inside his body. His balls ached, intensifying his desire. Desire to ram his cock into her mouth, to be enfolded inside the hot, smooth recesses, to feel her tongue, to feel her lips suckling him. “Jesus, Share, take me in your mouth. Suck. Me. Dry.” His voice cracked on a whimper. “You mean like this?” She cradled his nuts in one palm, the other clutching an ass cheek. He quickened. His muscles tightened, hardened. Then, Blessed God, her mouth enclosed him. God, yes. She pumped him with her lips. Her tongue did magical things. His brain shut down.

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“God damn,” he moaned, his teeth clenched. Bent double over her head, he came, his release exploding in thick, furious jets. He clutched her head against his belly and panted until some semblance of control returned. A few minutes later Pete blew a puff of air. Or was it hours, or days? A woman who swallowed. Oh, man, was he the luckiest bastard in the world. God, he wanted to sleep. Curl up around her. “Share love, come here.” He wrapped his fingers around her waist and pulled her upright against him, hot skin to hot skin. He kissed her neck, brushed over her cheek, and finally found her lips. She moaned and clung to him, crooned his name, pressed her fingertips onto his spine. Her precious body quivered in his arms. “Honey, are you all right?” He cupped her head and tipped it back, thumbs under her chin, to meet his gaze. She gave him a long blink and her Cheshire cat smile. Women; they either liked giving blowjobs or they didn’t, or pretended to like it. Sharon always looked so satisfied, so smug. He owed her like pleasure, and he loved to be in debt to her. “Baby, you know I love you.” She tensed. It wasn’t just the heat of the moment. Beautiful, sweet, generous. What wasn’t to love? He needed to show her how precious she was. **** Sharon wanted to die. Of course, he loved her after she sucked his cock. Don’t ruin this. Don’t lie to me. She moaned as Pete flattened his palm on her belly, flicking the elastic of the little scrap of lace covering her mound. He slipped a finger past the material to stroke her cleft. Heat. Sweat glazed her body. “You’re so wet.” His fingers delved into her, into her slippery, swollen flesh. They brushed the sides of her clit. She forgot everything else. “Yes, yes.” Pumping her hips against his hand, she wanted nothing more than for him to fill her. Wanted his fingers inside

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her body. She bucked and cried out when he filled her up to his palm, her clit’s heart beating strongly. She crooned his name in a low, throaty growl. “Come here, baby, I want to taste you.” Nudging her toward the bed, he bore her down across the thick comforter. He pulled her toward him. His warm hands caressed her thighs and determinedly spread them wide, balancing her heels on the edge of the mattress. She couldn’t keep her hips still. He held her down, the restraint arousing in itself. His fair head dove in. His lips circled her clit, tongue lapping rhythmically. “Oh God!” His mouth was heaven, just the right amount of teeth scraping, of suckling, of his tongue pressing the sensitive area right below her clit. Sweep. Swish. Swipe. Around and around. The harder she tried to pump, the more tightly he held her hips. She threaded her fingers through his hair and in a frenzy, hung on, pumping into his face. So close. She screamed his name. Begged him to end it. Begged for more. Her pussy was open and hungry. She was so close. “Holy God, don’t stop!” His mouth, hot and secure, stayed. Stayed firm, gently moving, riding her out over the crest. He stayed until her cries became whimpers, until whimpers became moans. “Sweet, sweet, Sharon,” he growled, rising over her, scootching her toward the pillows. Then he thrust inside her, straight to the balls. “Oh, Pete.” She lost her breath. Filled fully and completely with him, it was an assault on her senses, on all her little nerve endings. The pleasure caught in her throat, raced her heart, and stopped her mind. Clutching his hips, fingers digging into hard muscle, she used his body to balance herself, to counter his thrusts. Over her, he huffed and puffed like a racehorse beating down the track to the finish line. He dipped his head, caught her gaze. He paused, held himself suspended, his eyes glowing hot and sensual, possessive. Possessive for her. “Share.” She read his lips more than heard his voice.

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“Come for me.” He kissed her. No finesse. Just teeth, lips, and tongue. She tasted herself on his mouth. Wanted to get inside him, to surround him, become one with him. He swiveled his hips, thrusting repeatedly as if he would never stop. She climaxed, screaming, frantically bucking into him, and twisting her hips in counterpoint. I love you. God, she almost said it aloud. **** Sunday morning, after a big breakfast at the hotel, Pete told her he had a surprise. A twenty-minute drive later, they parked in a north side neighborhood. Sharon hugged her arms against what she’d always heard was the typical Chicago wind, then instantly flushed hot. They stood right in front of a…sex shop. “Oh. Pete?” She gazed at him questioningly. His eyes had that teasing sparkle, and his lips quirked up in his patented sexy smile. He tipped his head toward the store and pulled her into his arms. “Are you game?” he challenged. She hadn’t seen this coming, but she shouldn’t be all that surprised. He was a man, after all. “Don’t worry, honey. Nothing heavy duty like whips and chains,” he whispered into her ear. “Just a toy or two, okay?” His arms around her, his heated breath against her skin always made her feel safe. He wouldn’t hurt her. Physically, that is. No, they’d become so close this weekend. Crossed over a bridge. He’d said he loved her. Could it be real? Smiling up at him because it wasn’t like she could help it-- he looked so adorable and devilish and irresistible-- she asked, “So what do you have in mind, big guy?” Holding her tightly and pressing his aroused cock against her belly, he responded, “How about two things apiece? Two things we’d like to do to each other.” “Do we get a veto?” “I don’t think you’ll need one,” he replied with confidence. “What about you? What if I pick out something too weird for you?”

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Dark, hot lights danced in his eyes, a look of uncertainty mixed with curiosity, maybe. He held her serious gaze and licked his lips. “Okay, one veto.” Her eyebrows shot up. Hmm. Images shot through her mind, of him tied to the bed and of her inserting a butt plug in his ass. Not that she’d had any experience with one, but she had read a few novels. As if he read her mind, he said, “Right now I’m vetoing what you’re thinking about.” His husky murmur made her laugh. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.” “Oh, I can read that calculating look on your face. You’re thinking of something uncomfortable and embarrassing for me, aren’t you?” “Have you ever? How do you know it would be uncomfortable?” “I’m a guy. A straight guy.”

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Chapter Fifteen “Yeah.” Her eyelids drifted to half-mast. “I’m aware of that.” She rested her lips on his and sipped gently. He took control of the kiss, his lips sensuously massaging hers. “Take it inside the store!” An elderly woman toddled by them muttering loudly enough for them to hear. Sharon broke the kiss and chuckled quietly. “I think there’s our cue.” Pete opened the door for her. “One veto.” She burst out laughing. “Now who’s the nervous one?” Wow. The Pleasure Trove was huge bright, and clean. Not at all what she expected. All very upscale; it didn’t look like dirty old men in trench coats hung out there. Up front was clothing, if you could call undies with cut out crotches and nipples, clothing. Bustiers in leather, satin, black, red, and even some other colors, like those that she’d find in Victoria’s Secret. Feather boas. Then there was the more hard-core stuff. Dominatrix whips, hoods, and high-heeled boots. Shelves held scented oils and candles, boxes of games. Pete had already moved on further back, to the long counters. She wandered in that direction. Holy Toledo! Display cases filled with dildos and vibrators of every conceivable kind and lots she’d never ever imagined. Her eyes widened. All arranged on shelves along the walls too. A store clerk was dealing with another customer. Several vibrators were lined up on the counter as they discussed their merits and compared them as if they were talking about…gloves or…umbrellas. She had always bought mail order vibrators, because she couldn’t imagine buying one in person. Apparently, not everyone had that problem.

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Where’s Pete? She rolled her eyes when she spotted him in the back of the store, in front of the magazine display. Wouldn’t you know it? Yeah, he’s a guy. Looking hunky and gorgeous, he leafed through magazines, putting them back before he moved on to another one. She kept an eye on him as she rounded the counter to the other side. She almost lost her breath. Big, long, colorful glass dildos. Biting her lip at the thought of one of those big boys sliding inside her, she wondered about a smooth surface compared to ridges and beads. She supposed it depended on the fantasy...or on the man wielding the toy. She made her purchases and returned to the clothing racks to browse while watching Pete purchase his items. He kept his back to her, thereby hiding his booty. If his was anything like hers… **** Sharon dozed part of the way back to Parkersburg. She offered to drive at the half way point, but Pete winked and said he wasn’t tired. Thoughts of her purchases kept her on the edge of arousal, and she wondered if they’d get to them tonight. One of hers was fairly tame, but the other was freaky. She shifted in the seat as her pussy pulsed, and she tightened her lips so a moan wouldn’t betray her anticipation. Her stomach took a nosedive when they approached her house. A car sat at the curb. Shit. Why is he here? The last person on earth she wanted to see was her father. “Well, looks like you have company,” Pete observed. “Shit,” she murmured under her breath. “Do you want me to get rid of him then we’ll go to my place?” She absolutely did not want to involve Pete in this sordid mess of a family of hers. Why was her father here to ruin all her good feelings from the weekend with Pete and the wedding? Resigning herself to another confrontation, she said to Pete, “Let me handle it. You go on home. I’ll call you later.” “I don’t like leaving you.”

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She closed her eyes in heartache. “No, I want you to go. I can handle this.” God, please go, Pete. After promising to come over later, at least call, she longingly watched him drive away, took a deep breath, and invited the man inside. **** Alan Timmons plunked himself down in a chair, crossed one leg over the other knee, and jiggled it like an addict in withdrawal. Oh, great. “Your mother and I are getting back together.” Sharon closed her eyes. Had she heard correctly? “Why?” she asked; her inflection flat. She didn’t want to become emotional. “After all these years, you want to come back?” “I told your mother you wouldn’t like it,” Alan said. “If she can forgive me, why can’t you?” Why indeed? She needed to get away. Just for a minute. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, she braced her fists on the counter and took deep breaths. Alan sounded unsure and nervous. She couldn’t let go of the anger at his disappearance so many years ago. Hurt, humiliation, confusion, self-blame. The adult Sharon didn’t believe she was the cause of his leaving, but the child Sharon had. For so many years, it had been her fall back fixation. She wasn’t worthy of a father’s love. Why would she be worthy of any man’s love? Her heart in turmoil, she put all thought of Pete out of her mind. She had to do something about the man in her living room. “What do you want me to do?” she growled. “Sharon, you always were hard-minded. Even as a little girl.” Oh, God, it was starting again. Her insides quivered. His criticism hurt as much now as it did then. “Yeah,” he said. “You never had a bit of sympathy for someone making a mistake.” “Okay, stop right there,” Sharon finally found her voice. “I’m not going to take any blame for the past. I wasn’t the one who didn’t have the guts to stick it out. I’m not the one who ran

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away. You left with no warning, no word. Mother didn’t explain anything, didn’t act like she cared how I felt or what I did. She brought men into the house. I didn’t like them. I didn’t feel like it was my home any more.” He crossed his arms, put on a mutinous expression. “I had to escape,” she muttered bitterly. “Did one of them ever touch you?” he asked, with a bit of trepidation at what the truth might be. She felt as if a weight were pushing on her chest. She didn’t want to remember this. Shaking hands matched shaking insides. “One did,” she said in a soft voice. “I kicked him.” “Damn it!” Alan blurted. “Don’t act like you care now. Did you think I was so fat no one would bother me?” He opened then closed his mouth. “I grew up thinking I didn’t deserve any love.” She shook her head back and forth ending in an agitated tremor. “It took a guidance counselor to reach me.” For some reason, the memory of that rescue, the liberation of someone finally saying none of it was her fault, helped her at this moment. “You know, this is like a Dr. Phil show. Except there’s no resolution at the end of the hour. You’re going to have to do…” She licked her lips. “…your own thing. And I’ll have to deal with it. But don’t expect me to jump for joy.” He didn’t say a word. Didn’t look exactly chastised, but didn’t look repentant either. After he left, she sat in the rapidly dimming room too sapped to move, to turn on a light, to get anything to eat. Certainly unable to call Pete. Even after her little speech, she still felt insecure and unlovable. For so many years, she’d pushed these feelings away. The men she’d gone out with had not been keepers. Even Hank. He was nice, but was never going to last. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. Her feelings for her parents were so far away from warm and fuzzy. In fact, they were cold. She was cold. No one had ever really touched her deepest soul.

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Chapter Sixteen Pete Rayne touched her deepest soul. He’d said he loved her. A week passed. He called her, left messages. She left him a message on his home phone when she knew he’d be on duty. “I’m all right. I need time to think. I’ll call you in a few days.” At work, she focused on teeth, but otherwise her mind occupied with Pete and her feelings about him. Could she trust enough to let herself love him and commit to him? What if it didn’t work out? Both of them could be hurt. But what if it did work out? What if he was the one, and she let him get away? Was the uncertainty worth the risk of opening up her heart? All week, this was the direction of her thoughts. She drove herself mad with them. **** Pete lay sprawled on his bed, cross-eyed with ecstasy. Just when he wondered if Sharon would ever call, he’d heard the doorbell and there she stood with fierce courage in her eyes. The confidence. The serene sensuality. His heart soared with the arousing, animalistic, lascivious scenarios invading his mind. She’d made her decision, had taken the leap of faith and had come back to him. And the reward for both of them was the here and now. In his bed. He held his breath while she opened the jar of chocolate body paint. Jesus. He grabbed a quick gasp before she layered it over and around his cock with delicate strokes of the tiny brush. He clenched his jaw, but a groan still slipped out. The sight of her kneeling between his thighs, the serious expression on her face as she stroked. It made him harder than he’d ever been, the sensitive skin stretched tightly over the broad head of

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his dick. His hips jerked when she flicked chocolate into the hole at the top, the sensation at once painful and ticklish. “Keep your hands still. Don’t touch me,” she ordered. He was only able to fist the sheets in torture of the most glorious kind. His balls had already withdrawn tightly into his groin as she smoothed the soft bristles over and around the circle of his cock. She finally glanced at him. Her eyes twinkled with humor and devilment. Holy God, I love her. “Share,” he groaned. “Do you like this?” she purred. All he could do was nod and arch his back. He was losing it. A drop of cum seeped from his slit. Shit. She skimmed the thick fluid over the chocolate. “Fuck! I can’t take any more,” he exclaimed, his voice pitched embarrassingly high. Her smile quirked up on one side of her face. Her mouth opened. She grazed her tongue over the ridge of her top teeth, swiped it over her lips to wet them, and Holy Mother of God, she took him in her mouth. He shouted. She sucked at him fiercely, lapping at him systematically with her tongue, up and down. He lost his mind in the pleasure; lost it in the sweet draw of her mouth, the pressure in his balls, the heated ache boiling up from deep inside. The little sobbing sounds of gratification coming from her throat aroused him all the more, and he convulsed in a fiercely intense surge. **** He would have been humiliated to pass out after climaxing with any other woman. When he awoke, just before dawn, she curled around his back. He reached behind him to smooth exploring fingers over her, loving the warm softness of her skin. She responded immediately, as if she were waiting for him to wake. She purred as he rolled over between her thighs and thrust inside her already slick, primed cunt. All without a word. A laugh of pure joy burst from him. Her body was a welcome home for his cock; her heart a home for his. Rejoicing in the fact she’d come to him, proving she trusted him after all. He would not let her regret it. Making love to her in the early morning hours was sweet and satisfying. She arched into him,

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grasped his ass; her legs wrapped around his thighs and answered every one of his thrusts with her own. While they dressed for work in the morning, he asked, “Are you free this weekend?” **** “Share?” Pete hovered over her naked body and held her wrists at either side of her head. “Yes?” Smiling up at him, she decided she could get used to the familiar penthouse, the same one as on the wedding weekend. It was a magical, luxurious place made even more special by the man on top of her. “Baby, do you trust me?” Instantly wary at the tone of his question, she sobered for a moment. Did she? “Do you trust me enough to put yourself in my hands?” She tried to shift her arms, but he tightened his grip. A frisson of awareness raced through her. Not fear. Her pussy throbbed. She liked the feeling of his capturing her. She’d worked through her demons, knew she had trust issues and insecurities, but there was no doubt in her heart and mind Pete Rayne was different from any other man she knew and definitely different from her father. She’d finally been able to speak her mind to that man and survived. There was only one answer to Pete’s question. “Yes,” she hissed. He tugged her wrists above her head and held them together in one hand. Something soft brushed along her upraised arm, back and forth, tickling her. She couldn’t see what it was. Then it circled one wrist like a silky fur cuff. She heard a click. “Pete?” Her voice held a note of alarm. “Does it hurt?” “No,” she whispered, her mouth suddenly dry. He enclosed the other wrist in another furry circlet—and clicked. She was defenseless, vulnerable, and open. “Don’t be afraid, sweetheart. I promise you’ll enjoy this. I’ll never hurt you.”

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She believed him. Her heart thudded hard in her breast. Nevertheless, she tugged at her restraints, testing them and herself. At his mercy and now attached to the headboard of the four-post bed. He kissed her then, a consuming mating of their lips, his tongue plunging and curving into her mouth. It ended all too soon. He drifted his lips down her neck to the cushions of her breasts. Arching in expectant passion, she offered them as she whispered encouragement and pleas. He toyed with her until she squirmed. “Baby,” she whimpered. “Suck my nipples.” “I have something better. Close your eyes.” His voice dropped an octave as he looped a scarf around her head and tied a knot by her ear. She gasped at the loss of her sight and rolled her head on the pillow, complaining at the loss of his body's heavy warmth when he sat up. Her nipples ached, and he wasn’t touching her. Cool air raised the fine hairs on her body. She groaned. Something soft swept, with the lightest of touches, across the pebbled tip of one breast. “Oh, yes,” she whimpered. The swish, back and forth, brought goose bumps. He dragged the feather down her center, tickling her belly button. Her hips lifted, seeking the feather’s movement as he slowly curled it over her thighs. Muscles quivered and her pussy flooded; the swollen tissues hot and pulsating. Her whole body throbbed in anticipation. He must have knelt between her legs, because his muscular biceps pushed them wide to expose her completely. He nipped at her inner thigh, sucking the skin into his mouth, his teeth leaving a sharp sting. “Pete!” His chuckle sent waves of sensation rolling through her. The feather stroked up her slit, from her back hole to her clit. Up and down. Down and up. Her mouth opened in a shriek. Her hips pumped, lifting right off the bed. He tickled and tormented. It was agonizing. It was wondrous. “Please, please,” she begged. “I want you inside me.”

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“Me too.” He groaned the words, his heated breath puffing over her face. The insistent, thick head of his cock pulsed at her vaginal opening. Slowly, tauntingly, he pumped in the tip. She tugged at her restraints, wanting desperately to touch him, to pull his body into hers. “You feel so good,” he murmured, broken and husky, his in-stroke confident and persistent, the pulling out heady and with a little erotic twist. Arching her back, seeking more, her head tossed on the pillow. It was maddening to be blind. She didn’t like it. She wanted to see his face, to gaze down the length of her body to see his cock straining toward her. He thrust completely in, grunting harshly in her ear. She screamed her pleasure as they plunged and withdrew in counterpoint to the other, their bodies meeting with satisfying wet slaps. His pleasure was a guttural rumbling sound in her ear. His chest abraded her breasts. Her senses narrowed to her pussy, her hole, to his cock in her hole. She bit her lower lip and took his thrusts until her orgasm bloomed, forcing its way to the very tips of her fingers and toes, coating her skin with sheen of perspiration. Her shoulders ached a bit when he released them. Too spent to care, she rolled to her side with his hard, equally sweaty body curled up behind her. Secure in his tight embrace, an exhaustive and satiating sleep claimed her.

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Chapter Seventeen Sharon floated into consciousness, to warm, plush awareness. It didn’t feel quite familiar, not like her bedroom at home—oh, right, the penthouse suite of The Sanctuary, the most expensive hotel in Chicago. Everything had been perfect with Pete. He was amazing, sexy, and sweet. Rolling her head to one side, she peeped at him from under her lashes. Sprawled on his back, arms above his head on the pillow, face relaxed into a little boy expression, he looked magnificent and innocent—which he was not. Innocent, that is. God, he was a good lover. She smiled and gazed at him tenderly. She didn’t really want to think of all the women who might have taught him a thing or two over the years. Besides, she’d learned a thing or two, herself. Remembering the furry cuffs, she rubbed her wrists and wondered if he’d done what they did last night with anyone else. Easing out of the bed, she strolled over the thick Oriental carpet into that stupendous bathroom. This time, she didn’t want to leave the place without sampling the whirlpool tub. Huge and deep, it sat right in front of a picture window overlooking the skyline. The blinds didn’t need to be drawn, since the penthouse was above the rest of the city. Besides, who else would be up at this hour? It was five in the morning. She had a strong yen for this tub. Starting the water and turning on the jets, she dropped in scented bath salts from the vanity. Mm, coconut. It reminded her of a Piña Colada. She sank into the hot, frothy water with a contented sigh. This was heavenly. Surging water soothed her well-used muscles. She was accustomed to Pete’s energetic lovemaking and reveled in it, but it had a cost. This was completely soothing and, if she angled just right, arousing.

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Relaxed into limpness; her head, with hair in a topknot, dropped back onto the neck cushion. She stretched out, and sighed again. Champagne and shrimp? Cheese? Grapes? That’s what she needed. How decadent. The pedestrian sound of the toilet flushing in its little room woke her from a hazy doze. The steam from the whirlpool had melted her muscles and clouded the mirrors, but the masculine body stepping into the water was clear as lust. “Private party?” he purred, sinking until the only parts of him visible were his head and shoulders. “Ahh,” he groaned appreciatively. “Not any more,” she replied, sensuous excitement pulsing through the parts of her already made soft by passion and hot, frothing water. “Hi.” He lifted his arms to rest on the sides, fingertips dangling, twitching. Flicking. “Hey!” she giggled as she put her palm out to keep water out of her eyes. His calf drifted along hers, toes poking into places he’d already claimed. “Hey.” The sound strangled out of her, breathy and truncated. She suddenly felt very petite and delightfully trapped in this bubbly, steamy bath. His tall, broadshouldered body overwhelmed her even from three feet away. His warm, hazel eyes gleamed mischievously, and his lips quirked before he broke into a smile. “Got a problem?” He wiggled his toe, sliding it delicately over her clit. “Ohh.” The heat rose up her neck. All of a sudden, she was inordinately hotter than the water temperature. Mm, it does feel wonderful. She pressed back. Parting her lips, running her tongue over the line of her upper teeth, she watched the unholy gleam in his gaze as he pushed off his end and glided slowly toward her. She bit the corner of her lower lip. He ducked his head under the water and surfaced right in front of her. Muscular arms rose to run fingers through wet hair, sweeping it off his forehead, an act that showed off every line and curve in the muscles of his chest and biceps. Including the soaked tufts of underarm hair; even those aroused her. Gauzy ruffs in the center of the most tender skin on his body, and as she knew, the most ticklish.

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She clasped her fingers around his chest, sliding them around to his back, caressing the firm skin. Tearing her gaze off his puckered, pointy nipples, she met his eyes. He stilled, watching her, his hands in his hair, muscles bunched, his chest the only part of him moving—in and out in rough, uneven breaths. “Don’t you dare.” His warning was deep and powder-puff threatening. He knew what was in her mind. It was the one thing he feared. She pursed her lips and blinked, in what she hoped was, an unsuspicious, coy way. His chest broadened, tensed in her hands. Her own breathing became more and more irregular. She inched her fingers up. He hated being tickled. Her thumbs twitched. He watched her face like a jungle cat watching prey, waiting for the slightest telltale movement. She kissed him instead, a long, tongue-dragging slide from one coffee-brown male nipple across to its mate. Her insides jumped in rapturous shivers. A sound escaped him; half giggle, half-rough, lusty sigh. He had extremely sensitive nipples. His cock could go from soft to spike hard with just a light, pursed-lip blow of warm air across them. His arms lowered around her, and he pulled her against him, flattening her breasts, then slid his palms down her back to cup her bottom. She didn’t have the smallest butt on earth, but she loved the way one huge hand of his could hold her whole bottom easily. He made her feel amazingly petite and protected in his arms. His morning beard-roughened cheek abraded a path across her neck. His soft growl, a purr deep in his throat, followed as his lips nuzzled her breasts, licking, and nipping a trail all around the silken skin. “Mm, you taste good, honey.” He held her shoulder blades in his palms and finally— finally—lit into her nipples. She clutched his shoulders, digging fingertips in until she scratched. She wanted to rake her claws over his hard muscles, wanted to wrap her thighs around his hips. Open. She was soft, achy, and open.

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Lifting her up out of the water, he feasted. She gripped his head, speared fingers through his fair strands and held him captive against her breasts. She looked down her nose at his face, at the sight of his lips tugging and tugging, working her nipples. His lovely, wet, spiky eyelashes fluttered on his cheeks. One of his hands slid down the wetness of her back and kneaded her bottom again. “Share, Share, I love how soft your skin is. I love to touch you.” He demonstrated, sliding fingers through the water from behind, slipping through her cleft, caressing her thighs. She moaned his name, cupped his nape, and surged against him, sinuously drawing his fingers deeper into her heat. “Yes,” she whispered. He switched from back to front, and she sobbed when he fondled her clit. Soft touching, firm petting, alternating until she didn’t know which would happen next. She didn’t care as long as he didn’t stop. Dropping her hand below the water, she found him, grasped the firm cock in her palm, and wrapped him, stroked him from base to tip. He growled deep in his throat, lifted his head to take her lips, to thrust his tongue in concert with the thrust of his hips into her hand. She brushed her thumb over and around the flared head, his skin hot even in the steamy water. “Oh, Pete, I think LW’s ready,” she murmured into his ear. “Well, then, why don’t we bury him right inside your deep, soft, slick, tight pussy.” He sat back in the tub, pulling her toward him. “Um hum,” she sobbed. “Now would be good.” She settled over his hips, and even their sweet, deliberate ballet of touches and kisses couldn’t stop them from coming together in a fierce connection of bodies and hearts. She came almost instantly as the head of his penis caressed her sweet spot from his tormenting, magical, masterful skill of swiveling hips. Usually she didn’t come to orgasm so easily, but her emotions of late, the hot, tender bondage, the way she felt complete and secure in his arms, toppled her over the edge. She cried out then buried her open mouth against his shoulder, biting it in the beautiful,

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frightening joy of wanting this man forever. He’d said he loved her, but did that translate to wanting her—forever? Tightly, he held her so tightly she couldn’t catch a breath. She became aware of the jets of water still pummeling them. The heat, the steam still surrounded them. He groaned. She heard his soft sounds, almost whimpering, his hands splayed over her back, fingers twitching, the hard muscles of his arms like iron bars of a cage. She’d fallen deeply and surely in love with Pete Rayne. She had always wanted love but feared she wasn’t capable of it. Not really. Not after living through the succession of her mother’s boyfriends. None of them lasted. It had burned into her mind that nothing ever lasted. It sure hadn’t with her. The recent return of her father, her mother’s taking him back, had rocked her world. She didn’t see it as a great love match; more settling for the devil you knew. She was confused and vulnerable. But Pete was different. So wonderfully different. She trusted him. “Pete.” Her voice was very quiet in the steamy room. “I love you.” “Share, I want to do this forever.” His words spoke over hers. She took a breath. It hurt. “Yeah, but we gotta go back home sometime.” “I mean I want to do this for-ever.” His body stiffened. She could feel the tension. Did he mean what she thought he meant? “I love you too, Share.” He had to clear his throat after the “I love...” Joy bloomed—for a second. She tried to keep the insecure pain from her voice. “Don’t say that just because we have great sex.” He brought his hands up to cup her head, to tip her face up to his. His hazel eyes gleamed with warmth as tears formed in hers. “Share, I’m saying it because it’s true.” Nose to nose, he was completely focused on her. “Ever since the wedding ceremony. You looked so beautiful in the chapel. The reflection of the light in the stained glass windows, it washed your face

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with the setting sun. I heard the words honor and peace and joy. And I wanted that with you.” “Really?” She was sick with hope. “That’s so beautiful.” “Yeah, really. Share, you never have to be alone again. I’m not like your father. I’m here to stay, for the long haul.” He kissed her. Soft lips, caressing, gently nibbling, drawing her into him. Drawing her into his truth. The hard thunder of his heart reverberated against her skin, against her heart. “I do, too. I love you, Pete.” Her eyes lost their focus, as if she were looking inward, and she was shocked at verbalizing her honest vulnerability. “No one ever put me first before.” God, did that make her too pitiful? “I grew up as the lonely, chubby girl. If you didn’t live it, you don’t understand it.” “You do realize you completely changed your own life, don’t you?” He traced a fingertip across her cheek. “I’m so proud of you.” The impact of his statement struck her breathless. He meant it. She could see the honesty in his golden green eyes. “No one’s ever—.” “Someone has now.” “Oh, Pete, I love you.” He held her again, hard against his body. “Well, this is a story we can never tell our grandchildren.” The shiver of his chuckle shook her. This was sensory overload. “What story?” “We can’t tell them I proposed to Grandma in a whirlpool.” “It’ll be our secret.” A teary smile quirked up her lips. “So does that mean you accept?” The uncertainty in his voice surprised and pleased her. It seduced her. That he wasn’t sure of her. “Yes, Grandpa, I accept,” she giggled, kissing him, brushing her lips over his, licking them. “I’m not Grandpa yet. We have some work to do before that, my love.” He flexed his hips. He was still inside her. He’d proposed, and she’d accepted, while they were still joined. “By the way, darlin’, besides the chocolate body paint, what did you buy at the Pleasure Trove?”

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“Mm,” she purred. “Are you ready for this?” He nipped at her earlobe. “Oh, yeah.” “Nipple clips.” “Holy shit!” “Oh, God, LW is hard again,” she giggled in sheer joy at the expression on his face. “No kidding he’s hard, baby.” She slid her fingers over his shoulders, up through his hair, and laughed. “This’ll definitely be a labor of love.”

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About the Author Jane writes: “Sensual fantasies were locked in my mind for years, until a friend said, ‘Why don’t you write them down?’ Why not, indeed? One spiral notebook, a pen, and the unleashing of my imagination later, and here I am. The craft of erotic romance has become my passion and my niche in life. I love every part of the creative process— developing characters, designing the plot, even drawing the layout of physical spaces from my stories—and am constantly, madly writing and revising the ‘next great novel.’ “My careers have been varied—third grade school teacher, bookkeeper, secretary—none of which gave me a bit of inspiration. But full time writing romance is the most wonderful job in the universe. Please visit my website at www.janeleopoldquinn.com.”

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