Six
Lori Lee hit the
rewind button on her tape player. She had accidently recorded the
wrong music for the third performance of the annual recital and
would have to record the correct tune over it. She changed the
tapes, putting in Thunder Drums. The Dixie
Darlings, her oldest group, would perform their dance-twirl
competition to the hot, wild beat of Scott Fitzgerald’s percussive
coup de grace. She wanted to make a few changes in the routine
before the girls performed the number at the April
recital.
Picking up her baton, Lori Lee stood
and walked to the center of the room in the downstairs studio.
Playing around with her baton, she danced it through her fingers,
then tossed it into the air and caught it easily. Taking a second
baton from the wall display, she began figuring out the subtle
changes she wanted to make in the routine, little things that would
make the performance a bit more showy.
Talented performers were essential, but
she had discovered that competition judges were often influenced by
a group’s showmanship. Presentation and ability in equal parts was
a winning combination.
Although the recital was still a month
away, she wanted to get her plans precisely right today. The girls
would need as much extra time as possible for
practice.
She’d already begun evaluating each
student for the awards Dixie Twirlers presented each year after the
final recital performance. She tried to make sure that every
student received a small trophy because she didn’t want any child
to feel left out on the big night. Of course, there were several
awards that every child and parent coveted, an important one being
Best First-Year Student. She had no doubts about who deserved that
trophy. Darcie Warrick. In the two and a half months she’d been
with the twirlers, she had shown an aptitude for twirling and
performing that was nothing short of amazing.
After her regular class, Lori Lee had
taken extra time with Darcie. Ordinarily she charged students for
private lessons, but she knew Rick could barely afford what he was
already paying. She worried about how he’d pay for the expensive
costumes for the recital and upcoming competitions. Knowing what a
financial burden Rick was under, Lori Lee had told Aunt Birdie to
sell him Darcie’s costumes at cost and, if need be, arrange for him
to pay for them on credit.
In the month since the Clanton
competition and their forced stay at the Cullman motel, Lori Lee
and Rick had kept their distance, seeing each other only
occasionally. When Rick picked up Darcie from lessons. When they
both attended a Deshler basketball game, she with Powell Goodman
and he with a woman named Angie Clemmons. Then again when the
twirlers had gone to competition at Wetumpka last week. Rick hadn’t
brought Angie with him, and Lori Lee had been
thankful.
She told herself that she didn’t care
if Rick was dating someone, and certainly didn’t care who the woman
was. But she had listened when Aunt Birdie and Deanie shared all
the local gossip about the woman in Rick’s life. Angie Clemmons was
a divorcée with an eight-year-old son. She wasn’t a local girl,
having been born and raised in Georgia. She had moved to town with
her former husband four years ago. She worked as a clerk at the
local Wal-Mart, and had recently ended a yearlong affair with a
coworker, who just happened to be married.
Word was that Angie had a reputation
that suited her dark, sultry appearance. It was a well-known fact
she liked to spend her time at the Watering Hole, a favorite night
spot for adults on the prowl. A friend of a friend of a friend had
told Phil Webber that Angie was a wild woman in bed.
One of Lori Lee’s batons hit the floor,
bounced a couple of times, then rolled to a standstill. Damn! She
never dropped a baton. Except when she lost her concentration by
allowing her thoughts to wander. She tried not to think about Rick
and Angie Clemmons having sex, but the unwanted vision of the two
in the throes of passion had caused Lori Lee more than one
sleepless night.
Her good sense told her she was doing
the smart thing, the only logical thing she could do—keeping away
from a man who could cause her nothing but heartache. But her body
longed for Rick. For his demanding mouth. His caressing hands. For
the earthy words he whispered to her. And for the pleasure of his
total possession.
She could lie to Aunt Birdie and to
Deanie, and sometimes even to herself. She could deny, a thousand
times over, that Rick meant something to her, but in her heart she
knew the truth. She wanted Rick so much that she ached with the
wanting. And it tore her apart inside to see him with Angie,
knowing the two were lovers.
Standing outside the studio, Rick
watched Lori Lee while she performed with two batons. Even through
the closed door he could hear the powerful beat of the primitive
music. She danced to the rhythm, her graceful body smoothly
executing the complicated movements. This was the girl he
remembered from high school, the beauty queen who took his breath
away every time he looked at her. But she was a woman now, more
beautiful in maturity, her body ripened with lush curves. The
hot-pink tights and black leotards she wore clung to her body like
a second skin, revealing the perfection of her feminine
form.
His sex grew heavy. He cursed under his
breath. He was no horny teenager, but his reaction to her certainly
made him feel like one. Why was it that no other woman could
appease his hunger for Lori Lee?
He had stayed away from her for more
than a month now, but he hadn’t stopped thinking about her or
wanting her. He had hoped dating Angie Clemmons would help ease the
gnawing ache inside him. But it hadn’t. Angie was more than
willing. Hell, she was eager. But Angie wasn’t the woman he
wanted.
He dreaded going into the studio and
confronting Lori Lee, but his pride demanded a showdown. He hadn’t
liked the idea of Lori Lee giving Darcie special lessons, free of
charge, but because her time with Lori Lee meant so much to Darcie,
he’d swallowed his pride and kept his mouth shut. But what had just
happened a few minutes ago was more than his pride could
stand.
He’d taken his lunch break to stop by
the Sparkle and Shine shop and check on buying Darcie’s costumes
for the upcoming recital. She’d brought home the list of outfits
she would need, the prices printed beside each item. The cost had
been staggering for a guy who didn’t have an extra dollar to his
name, but he’d made arrangements with Tom and Eve to spend his free
Saturdays during the next few weeks painting their house. The
advance they’d given him would cover Darcie’s costumes, with enough
left over to pay for whatever twirler stuff she’d need during the
spring and summer.
When he’d gone to pay Aunt Birdie for
the recital costumes, she had quoted him a price far below what had
been printed on the list Darcie had brought home. He had mentioned
the price list to Aunt Birdie, who’d turned beet red, then hemmed
and hawed, and tried to convince him that the prices on the list
had been inaccurate. But Rick knew better, and when he pressed Aunt
Birdie for the truth, she’d admitted Lori Lee had asked her to sell
him the costumes at cost.
What the hell did she think he was, a
charity case? He hadn’t taken charity from anybody since he’d left
his last foster home and joined the army. A. K. Warrick paid his
own way, and he was going to make damn sure that Lori Lee Guy
didn’t make the mistake of feeling sorry for him ever
again.
Rick swung open the studio door. Lori
Lee immediately stopped dancing. Tilting her head to see who had
entered, she opened her mouth on a silent gasp.
“We need to talk.” He slammed the door
behind him and marched into the studio.
Clasping a baton in each hand, Lori Lee
stood ramrod straight as Rick approached her. His thick, sensuous
lips were set in a hard frown. He glowered at her with eyes
narrowed into slits. His big hands were clutched into tight fists
at his sides. He looked as if he had come to do battle, and she was
his enemy.
“Is something wrong?” she asked,
determined to show no fear, although the sight of Rick in such a
rage unnerved her.
“Yes, there’s something wrong,” he
said. “Something bad wrong.”
“Darcie? Is she all right? Nothing’s
happened to—”
“Darcie’s fine.” His voice softened
slightly when he spoke his daughter’s name.
“You’re obviously very upset. Are you
angry with me about something?” She fidgeted with the batons she
held, unconsciously waltzing them through her fingers.
“Yeah, you could say that.” Glaring
down at her nervous hands, he reached out and grabbed her wrists,
stopping her agitated movements.
She jerked away from his hold, turned
and laid the batons on her desk. With unsteady legs and quivering
stomach she turned to face him. “Well?”
“I don’t want your damn charity. I can
pay for Darcie’s costumes without any discounts from
you!”
“Oh.” A rosy blush stained her
cheeks.
“Yeah, oh. Did you think I don’t have
sense enough to figure out something’s rotten when the price Aunt
Birdie quoted me for Darcie’s costumes was a lot less than on the
price list you sent home?”
She’d given the price list to the
parents when they picked up their children. She hadn’t sent one to
Rick. How had Darcie gotten one? “Oh, she wasn’t supposed
to—”
“Don’t think I’m not grateful for all
the extra time you give Darcie.” Taking a deep breath, Rick stuffed
his hands into his front pockets and pivoted slightly back on his
heels. “She’s really blossomed since she started taking lessons
from you. You’re all she talks about. Lori Lee says this. Lori Lee
does that. I get a dose of Lori Lee every morning with breakfast
and every evening with supper.”
“I’m sorry if—”
“No, I’m not complaining.” How could he
find fault with his daughter’s choice of a role model, when the
woman she’d chosen was the woman he had idolized for as long as he
could remember? “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather Darcie emulate
than you. You’re the kind of woman I want my daughter to
become.”
“I’m very fond of Darcie. She’s a
wonderful child.” I wish she were mine. It’s almost
sinful the way I’ve come to adore her.
“Look, I... Keep on being Darcie’s
friend. She needs you.” Shutting his eyes momentarily, Rick
clenched his jaw and took another deep breath, then opened his eyes
and looked Lori Lee squarely in the face. “Don’t ever try to play
the benevolent benefactress with me again. I don’t have much, not
when it comes to money or social position, but I do have my pride.
I work for what I want. Do you understand? I don’t take charity
from anybody, but especially not from you.”
“I’m sorry if I offended you, but I
know how difficult things are for you right now. I just
thought—”
He grabbed her shoulders; she stiffened
at his touch. A charge of pure electrical energy passed between
them, surging through their bodies, making each acutely aware of
the other. Their gazes met and locked. Lori Lee
shivered.
“Damn you! And damn me, too.” He
growled the words, his voice a coarse, deadly whisper.
“Rick?”
He shouldn’t have touched her. Hell, he
shouldn’t have come here and confronted her. When would he ever
learn that with Lori Lee he couldn’t control the
situation?
“Tell me that you don’t want me,” he
said. “Tell me that I’ve done the right thing staying away from
you.”
“Yes, you’ve done the right thing.
You’ve done what was best for both of us.”
When he stroked her cheek with his
fingertip, she closed her eyes and sighed. She had to move away
from him. She couldn’t allow anything to happen between them. Not
now, not here, at her studio with a glass front open onto Main
Street.
“Please don’t, Rick,” she pleaded with
him.
Releasing her, he let his hands drop to
his sides. “It would make things easier for me if you told me you
didn’t want me. Whenever I’m this close to you, my body tells me
that you’re mine. Tell me you’re not.”
“I’m not yours,” she said hurriedly,
forcing the words. “You don’t need me. Remember, you have Angie
Clemmons now.”
He grunted derisively. “Yeah, I’ve got
Angie, and you’ve got Powell Goodman, haven’t you? Aren’t we a
couple of lucky people. You’ve got a rich, respected blue blood
panting after you, and I’ve got a hot, sexy little brunette who
can’t get enough of me. What more could either of us
want?”
Lori Lee felt as if Rick had slapped
her in the face. His scorn shouldn’t have hurt her, but it did. He
had deliberately meant to be cruel.
“I hardly think you can compare my
relationship with Powell to your relationship with Angie,” Lori Lee
told him.
“You don’t think so? Well, I do. Powell
Goodman gives you what you want, doesn’t he? You date him because
he fulfills your requirements for a boyfriend. Same thing goes for
me. Angie gives me what I want, fulfilling my requirements for a
girlfriend.”
Lori Lee stared at him, her teeth
clenched, her hands shaking, as she willed herself not to cry in
front of Rick.
He could tell she was on the verge of
falling apart. Whether she was about to cry or go into a raging
fit, he wasn’t sure. But either way, he knew he had gotten to her.
Upset her. Maybe even hurt her.
Good. If he had to hurt like this, then
she should be hurting, too. If he couldn’t find any peace, then he
wasn’t going to let her find any, either.
Breaking their stare-off, Rick turned
and walked to the front door, then paused briefly. With his hand on
the doorknob, he looked over his shoulder. “You couldn’t tell me
you don’t want me, could you, honey?” He left the door ajar when he
exited the studio.
Lori Lee stormed across the room,
slammed the door and let out a wounded growl. How could she ever
have had a kind, compassionate thought when it came to Rick
Warrick? The man was beneath contempt. He was every bit as vile and
vulgar and uncivilized now as he’d been at eighteen.
And heaven help her, she still wanted
him, more now than ever before.
Downing the last swig of coffee, Rick
screwed the lid back on the empty thermos, then set it on the
table. He looked at the ten-dollar plastic wristwatch he always
wore at work. Eleven o‘clock. He’d told Powell Goodman that he
could come over tonight and take a look at his restored ’Vette.
Goodman had said he’d bring by a check for payment in full, and if
he was completely pleased with the job Rick had done, he would
recommend him to his friends and acquaintances.
Rick had every confidence in his
abilities. If there was one thing he knew as well as he knew the
heating and air-conditioning business, it was cars. Especially old
cars. Classics. Someday, if he ever had the money, he’d like to own
a few himself. Maybe a ‘Vette, like Goodman’s, as well as a ’65
Mustang and a ’56 Chevy.
While waiting for Goodman, he might as
well cleanup. He’d already cleared away his tools and put them in
his truck. Rick removed his coveralls and placed them in his gym
bag, then rolled up the sleeves of his faded green corduroy work
shirt.
A car drove up outside. Must be
Goodman, Rick thought. He turned on the faucets, picked up a jar of
GoJo, covered his hands and forearms and began scrubbing. A car
door slammed, then a second door. Goodman wasn’t alone. Maybe he’d
brought along a buddy, someone who was interested in hiring Rick to
restore one of his classic vehicles.
The metal door to the garage opened.
The cool March night air drifted in before the door
closed.
“Be with you in a minute, Goodman,”
Rick said. “I was just cleaning up.”
“Take your time,” Powell told him.
“We’ll just take a look at my little beauty here. If she runs as
good as she looks, I’ll be very pleased.”
“Believe me, your ’Vette is in top
condition. The motor purrs like a satisfied woman.” Rick unwound
several paper towels from the roll lying by the sink, then turned
around as he dried his hands.
He felt as if he’d been poleaxed in the
stomach. There, beside an immaculately attired Powell Goodman,
stood Lori Lee Guy, breathtaking in her gold velvet skirt and
matching jacket.
“Sorry about that comparison,” Rick
said. “I didn’t know you had a lady with you.” Rick surveyed Lori
Lee from head to toe, his gaze lingering over the full, round swell
of her breasts.
“Hey, you two know each other, don’t
you?” Powell questioned his date. “Didn’t you say he’s got a kid in
one of your classes?”
“Yes, Rick and I know each other.” Lori
Lee tilted her chin regally as she looked directly at Rick. “His
daughter, Darcie, is one of my star pupils.”
Powell caressed the ‘Vette’s front
fender. “My old man bought this car new and he let me borrow it on
special occasions when I was a kid. Remember when I picked you up
in it for the senior prom? I was the envy of every guy in the
county. There I was, eighteen, driving a ’59 ’Vette and escorting
Miss DHS.”
“That was years ago,” Lori Lee said.
“Fourteen years, to be exact.”
Rick hadn’t been around fourteen years
ago. He hadn’t seen Lori Lee crowned Miss DHS, but he’d heard about
it. Eve wrote him on a regular basis while he was in the army,
often filling him in on all the local hometown news. She’d even
sent him a clipping of Lori Lee’s wedding picture that had appeared
in the Times Daily. He had memorized how she
looked in her satin dress and sheer veil before he ripped the
clipping into tiny pieces. Later he’d gone out, gotten drunk and
slept with some blond chick whose name he couldn’t
remember.
“I’d like to take this baby for a test
run tonight, but Lori Lee’s not in the mood.” Powell slipped his
arm around her waist and pulled her against his side. “Are you,
darling?”
Watching Rick look at Powell’s arm
around her waist made Lori Lee want to pull away from her date, but
she didn’t. She was not going to allow Rick to intimidate her. He
had no claim on her. She was a free woman, and he had no right to
look at her as if she had betrayed him.
Powell pulled out his wallet, removed a
folded check and held it out to Rick. “I’ll take your word for it
that she runs as good as she looks. After all, you wouldn’t try to
do a number on me, would you, Warrick? I’m the man whose money—” he
waved the check around in the air “—is going to help you buy old
Bobo Lewis’s business.”
Squirming out of Powell’s grasp, Lori
Lee sauntered up and down alongside the ’Vette, running a smoothing
hand over the satiny new paint job. “Actually, Powell, the money
you owe Rick is his, not yours. From the looks of this car, I’d say
he earned every penny.”
“Well, aren’t you a little democrat
tonight, taking up for the working man.” Powell handed Rick the
check. “You should be flattered that Lori Lee jumped to your
defense. But then she’s always championed the underdog.” Powell
gazed at her with adoration in his big, blue eyes. “That’s one of
the reasons I love her so.”
Rick took the check, mumbled a
unconvincing thanks and tossed the keys to Powell. “Start her up if
you’d like.”
“I know I promised we’d be here only a
minute,” Powell told Lori Lee. “But I’ve just got to do this.” He
jumped in the car. “Lori Lee didn’t even want to stop by here with
me. I had to practically twist her arm, and then when we got here,
she wanted to stay outside in the car.” “Maybe the lady didn’t want
to get her pretty outfit dirty,” Rick said. “She doesn’t seem the
type who likes to go slumming.”
Powell laughed, the loud guffaws
sounding unusually loud in the large, airy garage. “Well, darling,
even a grease monkey like Warrick knows a real lady when he sees
one.”
Lori Lee looked at Rick, trying to
telepathically convey to him that she didn’t think and feel about
him the way Powell did. She might belong to the same social set,
but she really wasn’t a snob.
But Rick’s cold, cynical stare told her
that he had no sympathy for her awkward position, that he saw her
for the phony she was.
While Powell played with his expensive
toy, Lori Lee could not help comparing her date with his mechanic.
Powell Goodman was a handsome man, with sandy brown hair and
mustache, and huge, flirty blue eyes. Tonight he wore one of his
many tailored suits that fit his tall, slender body to perfection.
There was an air of elegance, good breeding and old money that
surrounded Powell. He was quite a catch, and she’d been told by
more than one woman just how lucky she was to be dating
him.
A. K. Warrick was handsome, too, but in
a darker, harder, more powerful way. He was rugged, raw and earthy,
his very essence reeking of masculine strength and sensual danger.
She’d never seen him wearing anything except faded jeans that
hugged his tight butt.
Where Powell’s hair was short and
neatly styled, Rick’s curled about his collar in unruly strands.
Where Powell was clean shaven except for his perfectly trimmed
mustache, Rick’s lean face always showed signs of a five-o’clock
shadow.
The two men were an amazing contrast in
opposites. Powell was the man everyone expected her to eventually
marry. Even Powell thought that sooner or later he’d wear down her
resistance. But as well suited as their friends thought they were,
they really weren’t. Lori Lee didn’t love Powell. And she didn’t
want him. Not the way she wanted Rick.
She hadn’t realized how intensely she
and Rick were staring at each other until Powell got out of the
’Vette, draped his arm over her shoulders and said, “What’s going
on here? Did I miss something? Did Warrick say something to upset
you, darling? You two are staring daggers at each
other.”
Lori Lee laughed, the sound shrill and
unnatural. “Don’t be silly. You’re imagining things. Rick’s been a
perfect gentleman.”
“He’d better be when he’s around my
girl, if he knows what’s good for him.”
The pulse in Rick’s throat throbbed. He
uncurled his balled fists and shoved them into his front pockets.
Lori Lee knew he was on the verge of exploding. If the situation
hadn’t been so deadly serious, she would have laughed at the
thought of Powell taking on Rick. Was the man insane? Rick Warrick
could beat the hell out of Powell, with one hand tied behind his
back.
“Powell, we’d better be going,” Lori
Lee said. “You did promise we’d stay only a minute.”
“She’s bossy,” Powell said, hugging her
close. “But I love her, anyway.”
Lori Lee guided Powell to the exit,
then paused, turned her head and glanced back at Rick. “Powell, you
forgot to tell Rick about Terry Wilbanks’s GTO.”
“Oh, yeah. At the party we attended
tonight, Terry was telling us about an old GTO he recently bought.
When he said he was looking for somebody to restore it for him,
Lori Lee told him about your working on my ’Vette.”
“Terry said he’d give you a call
sometime next week.” Lori Lee smiled at Rick, but when she saw the
cold, heartless expression on his face, her smile faded
quickly.
“It seems I owe you my thanks,” Rick
said mockingly. “It was nice of you to send some work my
way.”
Lori Lee turned her head sharply, no
longer able to bear seeing the anger and ridicule in Rick’s eyes.
If not for Powell’s steadying arm around her, she would have fallen
when she tripped in her haste to escape.
After Powell drove her home, Lori Lee
gave him a halfhearted good-night kiss at the door, pleading a
headache as an excuse not to invite him in. Always the gentleman,
he acquiesced to her wishes. Once inside the safety of the foyer,
she slumped down on the bottom step of the staircase and cried
until her eyes were red and swollen.
The grandfather clock in the hallway
struck one in the morning. Lori Lee had taken a warm bath, fixed
herself a cup of herbal tea and listened to her CD of soothing
chants. But nothing worked. She was wide-awake and miserable. Even
Tyke was restless. He kept watching her, a sad, sympathetic look in
his big brown eyes.
She had done everything she could to
keep Powell from taking her by the garage to see his car.
Everything except tell him the real reason she didn’t want to go
with him. What would Powell have thought if she’d told him that she
couldn’t be in the same room with Rick Warrick without wanting to
throw herself into his arms and beg him to make love to her? Powell
would have been shocked senseless, that’s what. Lori Lee chuckled
softly. She’d never acted like a wanton hussy with Powell or any
other man. Only with Rick.
Rick. The last man on earth she should
want. What did they have in common except their raging desire for
each other?
Only Darcie. Rick’s daughter. The child
Lori Lee wished was hers.
The doorbell rang again and again, as
if someone’s finger was stuck to the buzzer. Tyke cocked his head,
raised his ears straight up and barked. No one paid a social call
at such an ungodly hour, Lori Lee thought. This had to mean bad
news.
Adjusting the belt around her silk
robe, she hurried to the door, with Tyke traipsing behind her.
Taking the proper safety precaution, she peered through the
viewfinder.
“Oh, my God,” she
murmured.
Rick Warrick stood on her front porch,
his index finger repeatedly jabbing the doorbell button. He
shouldn’t have come here, especially not at this time of night.
What on earth would her neighbors think if they saw him or if they
noticed his beat-up old truck parked in her driveway?
“Go away, Rick. I don’t want to see
you. Not tonight.”
“Open the damn door, Lori Lee. I’m not
leaving.”
Knowing how relentless Rick could be,
she realized that sooner or later she’d either have to allow him to
come in or she’d have to call the police.
She unlocked the door, eased it open
and confronted her after-midnight gentleman caller. “What do you
want?”
Hovering in the doorway, he visually
explored her body, his gaze caressing her silk-covered curves. “Do
you really want me to answer that question?”
When her face paled, Rick laughed.
“Thought not. Actually, I drove by to see if Goodman was still
here. I figured he might be spending the night. I’m a glutton for
punishment, honey. I didn’t get enough pain from seeing him touch
you, from listening to him claim you as his girl or from watching
him play the lord of the manor to my lowly peasant.”
“Please, Rick, don’t do this. Not to
yourself and not to me.” It took every ounce of her willpower to
keep from putting her arms around him and comforting the ache she
heard in his voice, from trying to erase the agony she saw in his
dark eyes.
Stepping inside, he pushed her
backward, then slammed the door behind him. Sniffing Rick’s boots,
Tyke checked out the man who had invaded his home in the middle of
the night.
“We can’t go on this way, Lori Lee,”
Rick said. “It’s killing me.”
She knew exactly how he felt. Wanting
him the way she did and not being with him was killing her, too.
She couldn’t deny her desire for him; the need was too
strong.
“We’re no good for each other,” she
told him. “If we give in to what we want, we could destroy
ourselves. I have to think of myself and what’s best for me. You’re
the wrong answer to my problems. And you have to think of yourself,
of what you’re working so hard to achieve. And of Darcie’s
future.”
“I can’t think about anything except
how much I want you. Day and night. Awake or asleep. Having you so
close and not being able to take you in my arms is driving me
crazy.” He moved forward. She retreated. “You can run, honey, but
you can’t escape me. I’m in your blood, as surely as you’re in
mine.”
“And what about Angie Clemmons? Is she
in your blood, too?” Lori Lee glared at him, hating him for being
able to find solace in another woman’s bed.
“You have no reason to be jealous of
Angie. She doesn’t mean a thing to me.”
“You have sex with a lot of women who
mean nothing to you, don’t you, Rick? I don’t want to be just
another one of those women.”
He grabbed her by the back of her neck.
She stood there paralyzed by his heated glare. Sensing his
mistress’s stress, Tyke growled a warning.
“I haven’t had sex with another woman
since the night I made love to you in the garage,” Rick told her.
“You’re what I want, what I’ve always wanted.”
“Why should I believe
you?”
“Have you had sex with anyone since
that night?” he asked, lowering his head until his lips lightly
brushed hers.
“That’s none of your business,” she
said. Still holding her by the nape of her neck, he ran his other
hand down her shoulder and over her breast, lingering at her
stomach. He spread out his fingers over her belly, the tips almost
touching her mound. “No,” she admitted. “I haven’t had sex with
anyone else.”
“I could have had Angie or a dozen more
just like her,” Rick said. “Just like you could have taken Goodman
or any other man you wanted to your bed. But sex with anyone else
would have been useless. It would have been like giving a man dying
of thirst saltwater to drink.”
“Rick, this is a mistake.” She pushed
against his chest, but the effort was weak and
halfhearted.
Tyke growled again, a bit more
ferocious. Lori Lee spoke to him in a soft voice, reassuring him
that she was safe. But she knew she wasn’t safe. She was in danger
of losing her heart.
Rick drew her up against his body,
pressing her intimately against his arousal. “There’s no use
fighting it, honey. Nobody can give you what you need but
me.”
Sucking in her breath, she melted into
him, then lifted herself on tiptoe, offering him her mouth. His
tongue circled her lips. She moaned. He nibbled on her lower lip.
She whimpered.
“Say the words, baby,” he commanded,
his hand tightening on her neck. “Tell me you want
me.”
“I want you, Rick. I want you.” She
kissed his mouth. “I want you.” She kissed his chin. “I want you.”
She licked a moist trail down his throat. “I want all of
you.”