Call Me Killer (32 page)

Kate had married then, if Viola understood correctly. "Stephen told me about your husband's death. I was sorry to hear it. That must have been terrible for you, to lose him at such a young age."

"Yes." Her bright face had clouded, and Viola wasn't sure if she ought to have mentioned it. But after a few moments Kate added, "The guys all pitched in to take care of me when Arthur died. They were awesome; I don't know what I would have done without them. Even so, I was out of it for a long time."

"But no longer?" Viola had been much struck by Kate's current boyfriend, Daniel, a tall, powerful man with a slightly intimidating manner. He was the producer of a TV/Internet program,
Facts and Fantasies
, which exposed consumer fraud and other sorts of chicanery. Viola had never seen the program, but she had heard of it. Daniel was pleasant enough, but he seemed very intense. Kate, however, was easy-going, with a light of humor dancing in her eyes, so perhaps it was a case of opposites attract.

She smiled now, casting a glance towards the living room where her lover was cheering on the Red Sox with the rest of the men. "Everything changed when Daniel came into my life," she said.

They chatted a bit, with Kate filling her in on who her old friends were and what they were like. Max and Nick hadn't shown up. Max never showed up, Kate said with a laugh, and as for Nick, no one had heard from him lately. "I think he's in Turkey. He hasn't been around much lately."

Viola was dying to ask Kate what she knew about Stephen's personal life, but she couldn't, of course. Maybe if they sat out here long enough, enjoying their woman to woman tète a tète, some interesting tidbits would emerge.

Sure enough, somewhere into their second cup of tea, Kate said, "I hope you won't be offended if I ask this, but—" she paused, wincing a bit. "No, I can't."

"Sure you can," Viola said, grinning. "I don't get offended easily, so fear not."

Kate gave her a playful smile and said, "It's just that Stephen's last girlfriend was a little, I don’t know, odd. Unconventional. Did he tell you about her?"

"Only that he hasn't had a serious girlfriend for a while. Yesterday was the first time we'd met in almost nine years, so we haven't had the time to quiz each other on our romantic history."

"He'd probably strangle me if he knew I was saying anything."

Viola laughed. She liked Kate. "Spill, girl. What was so odd about the ex?"

"Well, she was gorgeous, but that wasn't the odd thing. She had a rather unusual style. She wore those Lady Gaga-type high heels that look like torture boots. Not to mention a skimpy wardrobe that always seemed to be on the verge of malfunctioning."

Viola giggled. "I guess that's normal in certain circles."

"Yeah, she was artsy. I work in the theatre, and I am accustomed to people who express themselves in bizarre ways. Even so, Melanie was out there on the edge. Plus, she was nothing like you. I mean, I already feel as if I know you even though we've just met. You're smart and self-confident, very much your own woman. You don't seem like the type who's going to let Sir Stephen push you around." She raised an eyebrow mischievously, "Unless you want to, of course."

Viola smiled, but she felt a twinge of unease. What was she getting at? Stephen was clearly a confident male who might be a bit domineering, but there was also a lightness about him, an easy offhandedness that softened that tendency of his. "Does he like to push women around?"

Kate laughed softly, saying, "To the extent that all males like to have their own way, sure. But, no. I don't think he does. Not all the time, anyway. Despite the extreme fashion statement, though, the ex deferred to him in everything. I always got the feeling that she was barely restraining herself from bowing or dropping to her knees whenever he entered the room."

She cast Viola a glance through her lashes. There was a devilish sparkle in her eyes. Viola gathered that she was hinting at something, but she wasn't sure what.

Kate continued, "She did whatever he told her to do and never argued or raised her voice. This seemed strange to me because Stephen has a lively mind, and he’s always enjoyed a good argument."

"Maybe she was shy?"

"No, she wasn't shy. If you got her alone, she was self-assured and assertive." Kate shrugged and gave a laugh. "We couldn’t fathom what they saw in each other, so we weren't surprised when it ended."

By "we," Viola presumed she meant Stephen’s close friends. It was daunting to think that she might need to earn everybody’s trust. "Well, you did say she was gorgeous. And I guess we can’t complain too much, considering that we don’t exactly ignore the hotness factor ourselves when weighing our options."

"True, that. Anyway," Kate went on, "Ancient history now. I’m sorry for gossiping. I don’t usually, truly! It's just that it's so nice to have another woman to talk to for a change. Usually it's just me and the guys."

Time, Viola decided, for a diplomatic change of the subject. "Stephen told me you game with them?"

"Yup. After Arthur died they finally let me into their little gaming club. Dragged me in, actually, because I wasn't the least bit interested. But I eventually got into it."

"I love internet gaming. Stephen told me you might let me play with you tonight."

"That would be awesome." Kate put a friendly hand on her forearm and squeezed. "Don’t be surprised if there isn’t any actual gaming, though. Usually when we get together we all start reminiscing and catching up on one another’s lives, and the time just flies by. Sometimes I think the gaming is just an excuse to stay in touch."

As it turned out, Kate was right. It was a fun party. She liked Stephen's friends, who were a boisterous, lively crew. They had a cookout on Jeff's back terrace with a lot of jokes and good conversation, but they never did get around to gaming.

Stephen pulled the car into her driveway, cut the engine, and turned to her. He made no move to get out of the car, but it didn't look as if he was waiting for her to leave, either. "So," he said, giving her one of his luscious smiles.

"Did Jeff give you a curfew?"

"He gave me his spare key and told me to have fun." Another smile, but no follow up.

He was going to make her say it. Maybe it was because of what had happened in the elevator? Apart from that brief kiss in the restaurant parking lot and a few light caresses this evening at Jeff’s, he had kept his distance. Even though he
had
kept shooting her smoldering glances that seemed to say, "Just wait 'til I get you home, baby."

She began to laugh. "You're gonna make me do this, aren't you?"

"Yup." His green eyes twinkled at her. "Feminist prerogative and all that."

She rolled her eyes. "Would you, Mr. Silkwood, like to come in?"

"I would. Very much."

The look they exchanged was heated, and Viola’s innards produced more of those pleasurable little pulses. "Okay. Um, good."

"I don’t suppose," he said wistfully as they got out of the car, "You still have that hot pink bikini?"

"You remember the color of the bikini I wore nine years ago but you didn’t remember my face when you sat down beside me yesterday?"

He laughed. "I’m never going to hear the end of it, am I?"

"Not in this lifetime, no."

A few moments later Viola was on her front porch unlocking the door to her rented house while Stephen hovered beside her, all tall and hunky and sex-godelicious. He followed her in. She closed the door and was reaching for the light switch when Stephen said in an impossibly erotic growl, "At last." And then he was on her.

Viola let out a soft whimper of surprise as he pressed her back against the door and took possession of her mouth. As her hands came up to do something—she wasn't sure what
—
probably grab him and drag him even closer, he caught both of her wrists and pinioned her arms against the door. She twisted her wrists against the fingers that held them, but he didn't let go.

Arousal surged in her. Arousal and a trace of fear? It was dark and they were all alone here.

Fuck that, she told herself. This is not some stranger. It's Stephen.

"It's okay," he said. His voice was like a drug, and all her instinctive resistance fell away. The slight constriction at her wrists began to feel exciting. In another moment, though, he released her hands and moved her gently away from the door. "Where's your bedroom? Upstairs?"

She shook her head, and he held her against him, his forehead pressed to hers. She could feel his rapid breathing and the thump of his heart against her breasts. "Am I going too fast? We won't do anything you don't want to do."

"I'm good. I want to. Don't stop."

"You were shaking your head. That wasn't a no?"

It had been such a slight shake of her head. She liked that he was paying such close attention to her signals. It made her feel safe. "That was about my bedroom. It's not upstairs, it's on this floor. I'll show you."

She lived on the outskirts of town in a renovated 19th century farmhouse. As she led him hand in hand toward the back of the house, she could see him looking at the antique furniture, the 18th century reproductions on the walls, and the bookcases overflowing with hardback volumes. "This is quite a place. Do you own it?"

"No. I'm renting it from a colleague who's on sabbatical this year. I couldn't afford a house like this."

Her bedroom was in the back on the other side of the hall from the renovated kitchen. It was a pleasant room with a huge brick hearth on the far wall. "I love the fireplace. That's why I chose this room for my bedroom. It used to be the kitchen, years ago. Its other advantage is that it gets the afternoon sun."

"Would you like me to build a fire?" he asked, looking at the hearth.

"I think you already have."

He gave her the sweetest smile. "I like your bed." He nodded at the old-fashioned brass frame bedstead situated across from the hearth. He sauntered over to it and fingered one of the rails, looking thoughtful. Grasping the foot rail more firmly, he gave it a tug, as if testing how stable it was. His smile deepened, turning from sweet to wickedly suggestive. "Come here, Professor."

She sensed that if she obeyed this order, he would take over completely. Which would be hot…very hot…but was that what she wanted? She was no longer the inexperienced girl she had been nine years ago.

"In a minute," she said, and keeping eye contract, she began slowly undoing the tiny buttons on the front of her dress.

She heard him suck in his breath as her hands moved lower and lower and the silk fabric opened more widely, revealing her best underwear—the sexy bra and panty set she’d ordered from an online lingerie shop but hadn’t had any occasion to wear. When all the buttons were undone, she shimmied out of it, which was only spoiled a little bit when she caught one of her stiletto heels in the hem as she tried to step out.

The dress didn’t rip, thank goodness, since she was hopeless at mending things, but it did cause her to teeter for a moment before she got her balance. A quick glance at Stephen revealed that he was trying hard not to laugh, which had the effect of making her giggle.

"Okay," she said, kicking off the offending high heels, "maybe I shouldn’t apply for a job as a stripper."

"My lovely klutzy lady, you can strip for me anytime."

"Klutzy, huh? I’m going to make you take that back." Closing the distance between them, she dropped to her knees in front of him and put her hands on the area where his zipper was already straining from the pressure inside. The feel of his steely erection under the fabric of his jeans caused an answering throb between her own legs. She unsnapped his jeans and dragged the zipper down.

"Viola, wait…you don’t have to."

"I want to," she said and took him into her mouth.

He tasted wonderful. At first, she licked and stroked, hearing with delight his groan as he slid his hands into her hair and drew her even closer. She probed and flicked the head of his cock with her tongue, but she wanted him fully inside her, in every possible way. She sucked him into her mouth, breathing rapidly through her nose in order to accommodate his girth, and heard him groan again.

She glanced up at him. He had looked almost reluctant when she’d begun, but now a change came over his face. His eyes burned, his jaw hardened and his genial smile dropped away. He appeared hard and predatory, and a memory flashed from nine years before—sex brought something out in him that was buried deeply, something primitive and driven. Stephen aroused was a force of nature not to be denied.

He slid forward, pushing himself more deeply into her. He was rough, and she sensed that he liked that she was on her knees in front of him, taking him, and that he would happily drive to a conclusion right now instead of treating this as foreplay. He wanted her this way, although he had not initiated it. He got off on it.

The realization that she was pleasing him thrilled her. She redoubled her efforts, sucking and using her tongue as he fisted her hair and fucked her mouth. She could tell by the way he twitched and sped up that he was close to the edge already. Good, she thought, good. She wanted to bring him off now, right now.

But, with an even more expressive groan, he pulled back. She fought him, but he must have reached deep to find the willpower to resist her hungry mouth, her stroking tongue. "Not yet." His voice was husky and breathless, but he managed a brief grin as he scooped her and deposited her on the mattress. "I’m going to make this last, even if it kills me."

She giggled and he laughed with her. She loved his laugh. He had laughed the same way that summer, too, making everything seem easy and fun. But passion had him in its grip now, and the laughter faded. "On your back," he ordered in a harsher tone. "Spread your legs for me."

It sounded as if he were accustomed to giving commands, and she was surprised at how quickly she obeyed him. He had done that, too, nine years ago—in a low urgent voice he had told her what to do. She had complied then because she had wanted to learn everything she could from him. Compared to the high school boys she had dated previously, Stephen had seemed infinitely more knowledgeable and sophisticated. It was different now, but the kick of it was still there.