Reckless Pleasures (5 page)

6

JASON WATCHED MEGAN’S face closely, identifying each emotion as it passed. Shock, disbelief, then ultimately intrigue.

He prided himself on being a man who called ’em as he saw ’em. And now that he understood that his physical need for Megan was returned, well, there was no reason for them to pretend it wasn’t.

“Jason, I…”

He could sense her withdrawing. “What, Megan? We’re both adults. Marines, even. We know the difference between real emotion and physical need. Just like a wound that requires attention, there are other…needs that have to be met.”

Her blue eyes sparkled. “Yes, but unlike a wound, this can go without treatment.”

He grinned. “Can it?”

She faltered.

“Look, I know the kiss bothered you. Hell, it bothered me, too.” He grimaced, thinking her mouth had felt all too good pressed against his. “I’m not that guy. You know, the one that screws around with his best friend’s girl.”

“Funny, when I first met you, that’s exactly what I figured you for.”

He squinted at her. “And now?”

She looked down. “And now that I know you better, I think you’re just as caught off guard by this as I am.”

That was a good sign, no?

“So,” she said, “if this is not that, then what is it?”

“Sex. Pure and simple.”

The dubious expression returned.

“Look. We don’t have to kiss,” he said. “Actually, I’d prefer it if we didn’t.”

“And how do you propose we…have sex without it?”

He couldn’t help grinning in purely carnal desire. “Simple—you turn around…”

THE MERE IDEA SENT decadent shivers racing over her skin. She rubbed her arm and his gaze followed the movements, catching not only the goose bumps there but the way her nipples hardened beneath the cotton of her T-shirt.

“No one needs to know,” he said quietly. “Just you and me. And it will only be once.”

Unless…

The unsaid word hung there.

“The way I see it, you’re not betraying Dari. If anything, by having sex with me, you’re staying true to him.”

That made her laugh.

“Think about it. If it were anyone else but me, well, there might be a real threat there.”

His words made a twisted kind of sense.

She felt his hands on her hips.

“What are you doing?”

“Let’s just see if this has possibilities…”

She resisted the urge to let him turn her around at first, then gave in, her heart thudding thickly in her chest. She heard the door close and the room went dark as he shut off the light and switched on the air conditioner.

She began to turn around to put a stop to this insanity, when she felt his hard arousal pressed against her backside.

She moaned.

God, oh God, but that felt so good…

His fingers tightened on her hips, holding her still.

She heard the click of her swallow.

“I think…” she rasped, licking her lips restlessly.

She fell silent, wondering at the pure need swirling through her and pooling in a deep, dark pool in her womb.

“You think?”

His breath against her ear made her shiver.

“I think this, um, could work…”

That’s all the impetus either of them needed. He tugged at the bottom of her T-shirt at the same time she did.

“Take care of yours, I’ll take care of mine,” she told him. “No seduction scene necessary…”

Keeping her back turned, she quickly stripped out of her clothes, overly aware he was doing the same behind her. She made out the sound of a foil packet being ripped open, smelled the latex and readied her self for…

Oh!

He slid his long, thick length between her thighs without preamble. Megan squared her legs and then bent over, bracing her hands against the bed. She began to reach back, but he was already guiding his impressive shaft to slide between her swollen folds, finding her slick and waiting.

Oh, yes…

It seemed so very long since she’d known the intimacy of sex. And with him behind her, out of her line of sight, it was easy to forget who he was…and imagine him as Dari instead.

Her throat tightened.

Okay, maybe not Dari. Even in this position, he would find a way to kiss her.

No. Maybe she’d imagine this was a dream. Not unlike what she accomplished during her own solo sessions when she brought herself to climax.

This was just that. A desperate seeking of physical release.

He pressed his hand against her lower back, holding her still as he positioned himself against her tight, damp sex…and then breached it, chasing both the air from her lungs, and all thought from her head.

Oh, sweet Jesus, yes…

Jason slowly slid in to the hilt, stilling. She shifted on her feet slightly, finding a more satisfying spot, bunching her hands in the bedspread as she bore back against him, taking him deeper yet.

Then he finally moved, withdrawing, creating sensations even sweeter than before. Until he thrust…then thrust again, grasping her hips to hold her still as he showed her just all she’d been missing, what she’d been craving, and what he could give her now…

Her hands slid on the bedspread and she pitched forward, completely willing to climb on top of the bed and continue there.

But Jason appeared to have another thought in mind.

Withdrawing completely, he backed up, his hands guiding her. He sat down on the desk chair. Megan gladly spread her knees and sat down, reaching between her thighs to guide his hard length back where she wanted to feel it most.

She slid down slowly, the new position offering a different sensation. She gasped when he was in to the hilt then braced her hands against his knees and leaned forward, rocking her hips forward, then back…

With the baton firmly in her hand, she took great pleasure in setting the languid pace, reveling in every shimmer of her muscles, every tingle in her womb. She swore she could hear Jason gritting his teeth behind her, which ramped up her own excitement as she considered the view he had of her.

He mumbled something under his breath and then grasped her hips tightly, holding her still. Megan braced her feet on the lower chair rungs and moved her hands to her own knees, barely stable before he thrust his hips upward, filling her…

Megan moved her hips, more of an involuntary jerking, the breath leaving her body as Jason continued to slam upward into her convulsing flesh. Her lungs froze, her stomach seized and the release she’d been working toward exploded, sending shock waves through her body. She grasped her own knees more tightly, his long, hard thrusts drawing out the overpowering sensations even as his rapid breathing told of his own impending climax.

She heard a long, winding groan and knew he’d found it.

Nothing but the sound of the air conditioner and their heavy breathing filled the room as she leaned back against him. His hands skimmed her inner thighs, lingering briefly on her damp, quivering flesh, and then budged up over her trembling stomach before finally cupping her breasts.

A fresh thrill ran the length of her.

They were both tired and sweaty.

“More?” he whispered into her ear.

Megan swallowed hard. “Oh, God, yes…”

TWO HOURS LATER, Megan had collapsed facedown on the bed, Jason dropping on top of her. Finally, she felt adequately satisfied. At one point, he’d complained that he wasn’t enough man for her and she’d laughed…before bringing him to full erectness again and riding him for all he was worth.

“What time is it?” Jason asked.

The bedspread was half over the nightstand, blocking the clock. Megan yanked on it twice before it slid off.

“After two.”

“I need to hightail it back to my room. We’ve got to be up in three hours.”

She hummed her agreement but noticed neither one of them made any effort to move.

She wiggled her bottom slightly.

Finally, he groaned and rolled off her.

“Woman, you’re insatiable.”

She stayed where she was, her head turned the other way. “I don’t recall hearing any complaints.” She smiled against the sheets. “Oh, okay. Maybe one.”

“That wasn’t a complaint. It was a statement of wonder.”

She laughed huskily. “Mmm…”

He slapped her bare ass. It stung but she was too relaxed to make any kind of clear response beyond whispering, “Ow.”

“I’m going. You’ll want to lock the door behind me.”

“It self-locks.”

“Not the chain.”

“Someone would have to be insane to try to break in here.”

“Yeah, well, there are a lot of crazies running around out there.”

“Fair enough.”

She didn’t budge.

“Megan.”

“What?”

“Come lock the door.”

“I will.” She waved at him.

He chuckled and then left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Megan nestled into the bed more comfortably and promptly dropped off to sleep, thankful to have a friend like Jason….

7

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Megan felt as if she’d run a fifty-mile marathon—and won. Gone was the stress that had weighed heavily on her like a constant load and she was able to refocus her energies on the job at hand.

If she felt a secret little thrill every time she and Jason passed each other within smelling distance, well, only the two of them had to know that.

No, she didn’t want him again. In fact, she hadn’t really had him. Not in any way that counted. They’d been two adults seeking physical release and had found it.

She took a deep breath, feeling more relaxed than she had in months, and was thankful.

It was 7:00 a.m. and the half of the team dedicated to going back over the ground they’d already covered had already left. Now the remaining members—including her and Jason—were discussing alternative approaches.

While their primary job was to conduct a physical search for Finley Szymanski, she suggested they broaden the scope to include investigative angles, the aim being to assist in the physical search. The more people they talked to, the better handle they’d have on where to look for the little girl.

Megan caught herself up short from adding,
The little girl’s body.

The more time that passed, the less likely they were to find the child alive. Statistics bore that fact out. It had been that reality that had weighed down on her day after day.

“So are we clear on what each of us is going to do?” she asked, checking the board where the assignments were outlined.

Jason would be holding down home base, while she’d go to the family’s church to speak to friends of the Szymanski family. She’d tried on a couple of occasions for direct family access, but the sheriff’s office had drawn the line at that, especially in light of recent events. After all, it only stood to reason that as frustrations rose, finger-pointing would start. The family was now under the glare of suspicion, making them even more difficult to get close to than when they were looked upon strictly as the poor, worried victims of a random crime.

Her phone vibrated where it was strapped to her belt.

Dari.

And it was a phone call rather than a text.

She knew a moment of hesitation.

What was she doing? She hurried to answer. “Hello?”

Too late. The call was redirected to voice mail.

Damn!

Her gaze was drawn to Jason where he spoke with a team member.

She tried for a smile and then walked out of the room, checking her cell again. When it indicated a voice mail had been received, she quickly retrieved it.

“I didn’t want to tell you this way, but the plane’s about to take off and this is my last shot. I’m coming home…”

Megan’s heart dipped low and then boomeranged up.

He’s coming home!

She looked over her shoulder at where Jason was checking his own cell phone.

He’s coming home….

See you in a few hours, bro!

The simple message from Darius froze Jason in his tracks when he read the text on his cell phone. He lost his line of concentration and completely forgot about the team member he was talking to.

His gaze immediately sought out Megan as she was coming back inside the room. She looked as dazed as he felt.

“You don’t like it?” Jonathon asked.

“Huh?” Jason pulled his attention back to the conversation at hand even as he slid his cell back into his pocket. Jonathon Reece was an ex-army grunt who looked all of fifteen with his surfer-dude looks. He was one of the newest Lazarus hires and had been brought on board because of his firsthand knowledge of the area. “No, no, it’s fine. Run with it.” He patted the kid on the shoulder and maneuvered him toward the door. “Check in later and report the results.”

Thankfully Jonathon didn’t linger any longer and exited the room. Which left him and Megan alone.

“He’s coming home.”

He knew he didn’t have to be more specific. Dari would have contacted Megan before Jason. And even if he hadn’t, he could tell by her expression that she knew.

“He’s boarding a transport now.”

Jason nodded, watching her face closely. He wouldn’t have thought her the type to wallow in guilt. But he saw traces of it there. And he felt it himself. Of course, he understood they would be inhuman if they didn’t experience something akin to the dark emotion. Neither of them had counted on Dari’s returning so quickly. In fact, had the word come in twelve hours ago, last night would have never happened.

He never would have suggested what he had.

And he knew for certain Megan would never have accepted.

“Look,” he said quietly. “I’ve been knocked back on my heels along with you. But nothing’s changed. There’s no reason he ever has to find out.”

He couldn’t even bring himself to use his friend’s name in the context of the conversation.

He’d never lied to Darius. And he reasoned he wouldn’t really be lying to him now. The last thing Dari would ask him was if he’d banged his girl. Which meant that he’d never have to answer the question.

Megan nodded and pushed the wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail back from her sexy face. “Right.”

“You’re happy?” he asked.

She squinted at him.

“At his coming back,” he clarified.

He couldn’t bear it if his indiscretion had turned Dari’s girl away from him.

“Of course,” she said.

She looked away from him, and Jason could tell by the wistful shadow in her eyes that she was, indeed, happy.

He released the breath he was holding. Good.

If there was a small part of him that wanted her to say otherwise, he wasn’t going to acknowledge it. They’d had sex. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Mind-blowing, hot, sweaty, naughty sex…but sex nonetheless.

There was no love between them.

Not the love that so obviously existed between Megan and Dari.

Why, then, did he suddenly envy that love?

“I, um, am meeting Dominic in the car outside.

We’re going to ride over to the church,” she said.

He knew that. After all, he’d just helped her map out the morning’s activities just a few moments ago.

But within that time span, it seemed the whole world had tilted on its axis.

It was up to him to figure out a way to set it right.

Even if that meant doing nothing at all.

AN HOUR LATER, Megan looked around the simple house that sat next to the small chapel, the setup similar to countless others she’d seen in her lifetime, as well as attended in every town in which her father had been transferred to, growing up. There were faded, frilly curtains at the kitchen window, worn linoleum on the countertops and floors. A plate of homemade cookies on the table.

The current pastor had been in residence for the past year and a half and was maybe about thirty-five, forty, tops. He and his wife had two ’tween girls who were rushing adulthood, much like every other normal girl their age. He’d been happy to talk to her, to do anything he could to aid in the search for little Finley, but he hadn’t given her much more than she already had.

Dominic waited outside, as she’d requested. The rain had stopped and a blazing sun turned the atmosphere into a hazy sauna.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t give you anything you could use, did I?” Pastor Dewayne Dryer said as he walked outside with her.

“I appreciate your time. I’m sure you’ve already talked to several people about the case.”

He nodded. “And I’ll talk to several others if it helps bring Finley home.”

Megan noticed a couple of people walking into the chapel.

She gave the pastor a card that bore the main office’s number along with the one to her cell, and asked him to add it to the pile he already had for those wanting a call if he thought of anything else.

She nodded toward the chapel. “Do you mind if I have a look around?”

His brows rose slightly. “No. No, of course not. Be my guest.”

She slid her pad into her back pocket, and thanked him.

Dominic pushed from where he leaned against the SUV. She gestured for him to stay where he was as she walked the twenty yards or so to the chapel door.

Megan paused momentarily to allow her sight to adjust to the dimmer interior. Minimalism was the name of the game when it came to decorating. There were maybe twenty-five pews on either side of the aisle and a simple cross hung on the back wall. The pulpit was covered with blue indoor-outdoor carpeting, a plain podium to the left, what looked like a railing for the choir to the right. It smelled like cheap furniture polish and flowers, although she didn’t see any fresh blooms. Had there been a recent funeral, maybe? Or a wedding.

She knew there had been several calls for prayer scheduled over the past ten days specifically geared toward the safe return of Finley. She counted sixteen people there now, spread around the pews. Most were elderly women, but there were two younger ones linked at the elbows to her left, and a man she guessed to be in his thirties to the right.

She edged toward the younger women, flashed her ID, which was nothing more than a private security badge and photo identification, although she was completely aware that it made her appear to be official law enforcement. She asked if she could speak to them and they quietly agreed, following her outside.

As it turned out, neither of them knew the girl. In fact, they didn’t even live in the area. They’d come specially to put in a prayer for her from southern Georgia and planned on driving home straight after.

No, they hadn’t talked to anyone else since their arrival a half hour ago.

No, they didn’t know anyone else within driving distance.

Megan stifled her sigh and thanked them for their time, about to call it quits when the man she’d spotted inside exited the chapel.

“Sir,” she called. “Can I talk to you for a minute, please?”

She flashed her ID again. He looked beyond her to where Dominic still stood waiting at the SUV, his arms crossed over his impressive chest.

The man flashed her a smile. “Is there something I can help you with, Officer?”

She found out his name was Don McCain and that he sometimes played the organ at Sunday service if the regular organist was ill or on vacation. He was an elementary-school teacher, currently unemployed and, yes, he said, he knew the Szymanski family through the church.

“And little Finley? Had you ever interacted with her directly?”

“You mean, have I?”

She squinted at him in the hazy light.

“Present tense. You see, so many seem to have given up hope. I prefer to stay positive.”

“I meant ‘had’ as in prior to this point,” she said.

“Oh. I see.” He slid his hands into his pants pockets, looking as if he’d just come from teaching a class of third graders with his starched white shirt, striped tie and beige slacks. He had light brown hair and eyes and an ordinary face with no distinguishing features.

“So…had you?”

He looked at her blankly. “Oh! Had I interacted with Finley directly.” He rocked back on his heels. “Yes. In fact, I had. And I hope to again in the future. She’s such a bright little thing. And she likes looking like a girl. Always wears this pretty pink scarf…”

Megan took notes even as her cell phone buzzed on her hip.

He went on to say that he organized the seasonal cookie sale to help benefit the church and that Finley was one of their top sellers that year. With, of course, plenty of help from her grandparents.

“And her mother?”

“Sorry to say I’ve never actually met her. I understand she doesn’t get to church much.”

Megan nodded as her phone buzzed again.

“Well, thank you for your time, Mr. McCain.” She produced her card and held it out. “Please add this to the pile I’m sure you already have and add me to the list of those wanting a call should you remember anything else.”