The Keeper (2 page)

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. Teenage boys always had. The blare of a car horn jolted
her out of her frightening 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 all night. Have 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
again 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. Nibbling at
his lips, she loved their 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.

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 agreed he and Sharon would 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. 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 it just the
way he'd do to her nipples. Her silky hair, loose and flowing around her
shoulders, tickling his 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."

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 sheriff 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?" He smiled. "I want very much to put
my arms around you."

"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, on
his hard, muscled thighs. 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 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 and cupping 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 gaze. She watched him balance her, watched him flick
his thumb over, back and forth, teasing her hard nipple. Shuddering, squirming
in his lap, her head lolled back. Her hand covered 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 sensitive 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.

"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 the
lips of her pussy, in the softened and sensitive tissues. Her clit throbbed
each time he drew on her, each time his tongue swiped the tip. Her hips jerked,
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 soaked pussy. Then he speared his long, thick fingers
between her lips, rubbing her clit, circling the drenched, swollen nub.

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. Barely inside, but stretching her. Pulsating in and
out, only the tips, 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 stroking.

"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 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.