SECRET IDENTITY (12 page)

“I know that,” Brenda replied, also whispering. “What’s
wrong? Why are you here?”

“You’re why I’m here.”

Two more steps, and he was next to the little twin bed.
Brenda felt the mattress jiggle when he hit it. The moon shone across his shoulders,
giving the leather outfit he wore a wet sheen.

“You came through the window,” she stated. Of course he did.
If he’d tried to come through the front door, she would have heard him. She was
hit with a strong sense of
deja vu
. This was so much like the other
night when she had dreamt this exact same scenario. Wide-eyed, she waited for
his next move.

The Defender sat at the foot of the bed. The tingling was
back, crawling up and down her skin, leaving behind goose bumps that her
lightweight flannel pajamas could not keep warm.

“If at any time you feel I must leave, you only have to say
so,” The Defender murmured.

Brenda nodded. “Okay. So why are you here?” she repeated.

“Because earlier you said you needed me. From the tone of
your voice…” He paused, then said, “I came to see if your need was the same as
mine.”

He reached out with one gloved hand to cup her chin, lifting
her face until the moonlight caught it and reflected in her eyes. Brenda
remained resolute and unafraid, even while her breath quickened with the
increased rhythm of her heart.

She had never been one to openly speak her mind. Neither was
she the kind to cause waves or act impulsively. However, tonight felt as though
she was standing on a precipice, ready to jump off. But instead of falling to
her death, she would be falling into this man’s arms. Unfortunately, there
remained a few questions she had to have answered, if only for her piece of
mind.

“Are you married?”

The Defender smiled. “No. I’m not legally attached to anyone
in any way. I’m not even engaged.”

“You’re kidding.” The words popped out of her mouth before
she even thought of them. Brenda felt her eyes widen when The Defender
chuckled. It was a deep, throaty, and extremely sexy sound. She would swear it
vibrated all the day down into her panties.

“Tell me, Miss McKay. How are you needing me?”

No, Miss McKay, you are not the impulsive sort. But,
honest to God, if you don’t make the first move—

She launched herself into his arms, reaching for his mouth
with her own. They connected, and it was as if the entire world began to
shimmer from the heat. Quickly, she wrapped her arms about his head and
shoulders, mentally begging that he do the same. As if he could read her mind,
arms like bands of iron embraced her and drew her tightly against him.

Within seconds he had drawn her across his lap, until she
was firmly nestled between his crotch and his chest. There was no turning back
now. No retreating. And definitely no time for regrets.

His lips were cold and hard, demanding everything from her,
which she was more than willing to give. She felt his gloved hands bunch at the
back of her cotton pajamas, and in the next instant, he tore the top from her
like it was made of paper. Brenda gasped as the chilly air washed over her bare
skin.

The Defender grabbed her by the arms and pushed her far
enough away so he could see her breasts in the moonlight. A slow, lazy smile
crept over his face, and his black eyes glittered.

“You are more beautiful than I imagined.”

His confession sent shivers all the way to her core. Before
she could respond, he pushed her back onto the bed, for which she was grateful.
The quilt helped to keep the air off her back. Now, if he would only lay on top
of her to keep her front warm.

His hand reached up to gently pluck one hard tip. When she
tried to cover herself, he stopped her, reaching over with his other hand to
continue playing with her erect nipple. Again, he seemed to read her mind, and
leaned over to close his lips over it.

Hot, sweet desire surged through her, and Brenda arched her
back to force more of her breast into his mouth. His tongue tickled, suckled,
and pulled so hard at times it was nearly painful, but she wanted more. Needed
more. It felt so damn good.

Her fingers dug into his hair and encountered a strap.
Vaguely, she realized it was the mask. At the same moment, The Defender reached
up and carefully removed her hands before she could inadvertently unhook the
disguise. Instead of rebuking her, he moved to her other breast in order to
torment it the way he had the first. Brenda wiped her wet nipple to keep it
from becoming too cold. When she lifted her hand back to him, her fingers
brushed across the zipper track of his leather jacket. Immediately, she sought
the little lever.

The Defender chuckled again. “Getting impatient?”

He reared back without waiting for an answer, and Brenda
watched as he unzipped his jacket and shrugged out of it, dropping the black
outfit on the floor beside the bed.

She could barely make out the fact that he wore a black
t-shirt underneath. He quickly jerked the hem out of his pants and tugged the
shirt over his head, revealing a chest as expansive and muscular as she had
believed it would be. A wide wall of warm, sweat-glistening skin that almost
glowed in the moonlight. She lifted a hand to touch it, and immediately
something didn’t feel…right.

Where was the soft mat of dark curls? Where was the
provocative path of tiny hairs trailing down into the waistband of his pants.

With a shiver, Brenda realized what she was doing, and the
knowledge stunned her. The Defender didn’t have chest hair but Lorne Palmer
did. Lorne had a sprinkling of dark hairs covering his chest and nipples
because she’d seen him countless times in the past without a shirt on—when he
was mowing the lawn, or changing out the water sprinkler. In fact, there had
been many times when she had wondered what it would be like to wake up next to
that chest on a lazy Saturday morning.

Her thoughts were interrupted when The Defender grabbed the
waist of her pajama bottoms and literally peeled them off of her with one
strong tug. He was completely bare on top, and although his sculpted upper body
was beautiful, Brenda couldn’t help the small disappointment niggling in the
back of her brain.

She watched as The Defender tugged off his gloves and his
boots, then stood to shuck his leather pants. He wore no underwear, to her
astonishment, and as soon as he stood back up straight, his erection sprang
forward, reminding Brenda of a diving board. The analogy was so funny, she
fought to smother a giggle.

Either The Defender didn’t notice, or if he did, it didn’t
matter. He crawled upon the tiny bed, nearly engulfing it as he pushed her back
down. This time when he lowered himself over her, she could feel the heat
emanating from his body, and she entwined her arms around his neck. He kissed
her again, but his lips continued to be cool as they pressed down on hers. At
no time did he try to breach the inner recesses of her mouth. There was no
tongue. No “spit swapping”, as Lorne used to laughingly refer to it whenever
they’d seen such a thing while watching TV.

Lorne again.

Frowning, Brenda tried to wipe her neighbor from her mind
and concentrate on The Defender’s lovemaking. There was no denying the fact
that his hands and his body were doing delicious things to her sex drive. She
wriggled her hips, and the man broke the kiss.

“Do that again,” he half-demanded, half-begged.

Smiling, she spread her legs and lifted her mound, bouncing
it provocatively against his thick erection and low-hanging balls. He
immediately grabbed himself and shoved the head between her lower lips, giving
his own hips a little bounce to firmly embed it at her entrance.

“Is this what you meant? Is this how you were needing me?”
he asked.

He was breathing heavily now. It smelled slightly of garlic
and mint toothpaste.

Brenda started to reply when he shoved himself partway into
her. The invasion made her gasp.

“You are like fire,” The Defender murmured above her.

His hips moved, sinking himself further inside her.

And it felt wrong. It all felt so wrong.

“Come on, baby. Set me on fire.”

He withdrew slightly, then plunged into her again.

“No.” Brenda struggled to get him out of her. She pushed
against his chest, shaking her head. “No. Stop. I can’t. We can’t.”

“Why not?”

He continued to move his hips, dragging in and out of her
channel with increasing speed.

“You are so wet. It’s like sliding inside perfection.”

Brenda cursed her body. It was like fighting a rising
hurricane, tormenting her. Her blood was burning her alive. She wanted
completion. She needed it. But not with this man. Not with The Defender.

“No!” She managed to plant her feet on his seesawing hips.
With one hard shove, she managed to push him all the way out while at the same
time, she shoved him away with her hands.

“No more!”

The Defender remained motionless, suspended over the bed,
and stared at her in surprise.

An instant later, he disappeared.

* * *
*

Brenda lay in a tight little bundle, horny, unfulfilled, and
aching. No telling what time it was, or how long she had been lying there,
unable to go back to sleep after she had woken up to find herself still in her
pajamas, and to find she had dreamt it all.

Now she was afraid to go back to sleep. Afraid she’d dream
about the dark stranger coming back to her bedroom to make love. Thank God her
sex toy was back at her apartment in the city.

Good going, girlfriend. Nothing like having another
fantastic wet dream about Mr. Walking Hard-on. But not only do you turn him
away, you dream he’s someone else!

Having such a dream didn’t surprise her. And the fact that
she’d had this second dream about the man wasn’t unusual, either. Many times in
the past she’d fantasize about some movie star or rock star, and end up
dreaming of a sexual encounter with him. But she’d always go through with the
act. Or at least wake up in time to grab her vibrator and finish herself off,
so that it felt like she’d gone all the way.

But this was the first time she had turned anyone away,
dream-wise or other. Why did it have to be The Defender? Why did the thought of
making love with him suddenly make her feel as if she was being unfaithful?

Stranger still, why did she keep comparing him to Lorne
Palmer?

Chapter 14

Breakfast

“Lorne?”

Lorne walked into the kitchen to find his older brother
sitting at the table and eating a bowl of cereal. Corn Flakes, he noted,
instead of the usual sugared stuff, as big brother was on one of his
short-lived attempts to lose weight.

“Morning.” He went straight to the refrigerator’s freezer
compartment to grab the box of waffles. As similar as the boys were in
appearance, their differences in tastes, likes and dislikes, were as vast as
their powers. Luke preferred cereal or oatmeal, he wanted his waffles or eggs,
and Lee was hooked on those healthy but perverse-tasting shakes.

He glanced at the sink where the empty blender pitcher sat,
waiting to be washed. “Where’s number three?”

“Over at the PD,” Luke mumbled. “Hey, can we talk?”

Curious, Lorne grabbed the syrup from the fridge door and
plunked it on the table before straddling a chair to listen to what his sibling
had to say.
Can we talk?
It had to important for Luke to make that
comment. Even more so since Luke was not a morning person, and didn’t like to
broach difficult subjects until after noon. Lorne patiently watched as his
brother wiped his mouth with a paper towel.

“It’s about Brenda.”

“Thought so.” Lorne smiled.

Luke shot him a warning look. “Really. I’m serious. It’s
about Brenda.”

Lorne went immediately on the defensive. “Is she okay?” He
started to rise to his feet when Luke waved for him to sit back down.

“It’s not an emergency. Go ahead and eat.”

Lorne opened his mouth to question him, when the waffles
chose that moment to pop out of the toaster. He went to retrieve them, throwing
them onto a paper plate and grabbing a fork from the silverware drawer to take
everything back to the table.

“Can I get some coffee first?” he inquired with a bit of
sarcasm.

Unaffected by his brother’s growing irritation, Luke nodded.
Once Lorne was settled back at the table, he continued.

“I thought you might like to know. Brenda had a hot, erotic
dream about you last night. Or rather, about The Defender.”

His piece of waffle fell off his fork. Shaken, Lorne frowned
at his brother. “How—”

“No, no. I didn’t invade her mind. She was giving off such
strong vibes, they woke me up. I just skimmed over the surface to see if she
might be in trouble. She’s been through so much these past few days, I was
thinking she might need someone to go over and offer a shoulder of condolence,
know what I mean?” He shook his head. “Honestly, Lorne. The sexual vibes she
was giving off could have melted a glacier.”

“Why didn’t you awaken me?”

“I was about to, but then, suddenly, she went cold. I mean
fish cold. Almost as if she’d been frightened.”

“Frightened?” Lorne’s stared numbly at his brother. “Frightened
of The Defender?”

Luke shrugged. “Something in her dream turned her off like
that.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

“Any idea why?”

“Not without a little probing. And I promised you years ago
I wouldn’t do that to her unless it was an emergency.” He twirled his spoon in
his cereal. “She finally got back to sleep, but it was fitful the rest of the
night.”

“What do you think it meant?”

“Other than the fact that she dreamt she was making love to
you as The Defender, and you did or said something that turned her off?”