In Seconds

10

Vivian had never made love quite like this before. They stripped off his clothes and what was left of hers and joined instantly.

“Let’s…slow down,” Myles panted, his chest damp with sweat even though they’d moved from the wall, where he’d borne her weight, to the softest place in the vicinity—a bearskin rug. “I want…this to be good for you.”

He seemed intent on achieving come control. But she wouldn’t allow it. She believed she’d be able to forget him far more easily if they took a quick bow to lust and only lust. So she urged him to let himself go, told him she wanted it that way, and he obliged her. Hooking his arms beneath her knees, he drove into her with the abandon she craved, and the intensity and pleasure carried Vivian where she needed to be—to that place where thoughts don’t exist, just sensation.

Their lovemaking ended almost as fast as it’d begun, which made her feel as if she’d won a victory of some sort. At least she hadn’t enjoyed it too much. That somehow meant she couldn’t miss it later. Or so she told herself until, after a short nap, they woke up and started all over. Soon, they’d made love in the living room and in the bedroom as well as that first time in the hall, and each experience was better than the last.

It was three hours later when, too exhausted to expend any more energy, Vivian rolled away from Myles to check the clock on the wall above the dining table. Almost eleven. She’d been admiring his face while he dozed, but knowing she’d never see him this way again felt like such a loss she didn’t want to think about it. “We’ve got to go,” she whispered, giving him a slight nudge to wake him. “It’s late.”

His eyes opened but he made no move to get up. “Let’s sleep a little longer.”

“We have kids to worry about.”

“One more time.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not satisfied,” she said with a laugh.

Instead of laughing with her, he sobered. “I’m not satisfied.”

“How many times is it going to take?”

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been holding out on me. Why?”

Scowling, she glanced away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she responded.

“Yes, you do.”

“I had fun.”

“You encouraged me to let go and enjoy myself but you wouldn’t. You hung on to your control so tight I couldn’t pry you away from it.”

“Stop.”

He sat up. “I want to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” she said with exasperation.

“The way you wouldn’t really connect.”

“How do you know it wasn’t your fault?” She felt terrible the moment she’d said it. It wasn’t his fault at all. She just didn’t want to address the truth.

Fortunately, he didn’t let her get away with it. “Because I watched you. Every time you got close you’d simply…shut down.”

And then he’d try harder. To no avail. “I just…couldn’t, okay?”

“It’s not a physical problem…”

The heat of a blush warmed her cheeks. “No.”

“Then why wouldn’t you share that moment with me? You knew I wanted it.”

She started looking for her clothes. “You got what you wanted,” she muttered.

“I got half of what I wanted.”

Her shirt was on the floor. Where her panties had gone, she had no idea.

“Is it because of your ex?” he asked when she didn’t respond.

“I don’t think so,” she said. She could blame Tom for a lot, but not for that. Guilt stood in her way, for stealing what she had no business taking. And bad memories—the people who’d been killed because of their association with her. She couldn’t stand the fact that she was dragging Myles into the mess that was her life.

“What, then? You thought I wouldn’t notice?”

She’d thought he wouldn’t care. “I’ve got…issues. Surely that’s no surprise to you.” At last she found her panties, under his jeans.

He stood and watched her as she put them on, which made her more than a little self-conscious. “If you were going to hold out on me, why’d you want to make love at all? I thought a good climax or two, or maybe ten, was what you wanted.”

So had she. She’d assumed she’d indulge her body and the cravings that’d become so troublesome would go away. But she hadn’t realized that she wanted much more than a one-night stand, even a one-night stand with the man she’d been fantasizing about for well over a year. When she looked at Myles or touched him or kissed him…

Stop. She couldn’t even think it. That acknowledgment would only make matters worse. “I’m fine, okay? You were fantastic. I’m sorry if I didn’t moan loudly enough.”

She was being flippant, hadn’t really meant it, but it made him angry all the same. She could tell by the muscle that jumped in his cheek. “Don’t patronize me,” he growled. “I’m not looking for an ego boost.”

She couldn’t handle arguing with him. Not on top of everything else. She raised a hand. “Please, I don’t want this to end badly.”

“Neither do I. But I’m willing to go let that happen if it means I’ll finally get some honesty.”

“You want honesty?”

“That’s exactly what I want!”

She held her shirt to her chest. “How about you give me some honesty first?”

“Fine.” He put his hands on his hips, completely indifferent to his nudity. But he had no reason to be self-conscious. Every inch of his body was lean and well-toned. “What do you want to know?”

She hurried to finish dressing. She’d revealed too much, literally and figuratively. She should never have started this.

“Well?” he demanded.

Feeling safer once she had her clothes on, she whirled to face him. “Do you have any idea who murdered Pat?”

Rocking back, he threw up his hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me. The murder? That’s what this is about? You thought you could trade a piece of ass for the insider scoop?”

“Quit making everything worse! I just…I need to know.”

“We all need to know. But it hasn’t been determined. I’m not sure we’ll ever learn the answer. We’re doing what we can and that’s what we’ll continue to do. There isn’t enough to go on.”

“The autopsy had to show something.”

“If you call death by blunt-force trauma something. I could tell that much by looking at him.”

“Have you found the can opener?”

He stepped toward her. “You heard about the can opener?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Gertie’s been talking about it.”

“Damn it! That isn’t information I want circulating around the community, Vivian. If I’m lucky enough to find the bastard who murdered Pat, that detail might’ve been helpful in putting him away, but it’ll be useless if everyone knows about it.”

“I understand why you’d be worried, but—”

“I don’t think you do.”

Curving her fingernails into her palms, Vivian drew a calming breath and lowered her voice. “I just said I did. Why are you so worked up?”

“Because I’m pissed off! And I’m not even sure I can tell you why.”

She handed him his boxers. “If it’s about the case, there’s no reason to take it out on me.”

“It’s not the case. At least, it’s not only the case.”

“You’re saying it’s me.”

“Yes! You gave me everything I could ask for tonight. And yet…forget it.” Unable to explain further, he thrust one leg, then the other, into his underwear.

She brought his jeans next. “Do you always act this way after sex?”

He didn’t bother buttoning his fly. Standing there without a shirt, his hair mussed from her hands, a five-o’clock shadow covering his jaw, he was pretty damn appealing. Maybe even more appealing than before they’d made love. And that scared her. What had just happened here was supposed to be enough to satisfy her. It had to be enough.

“Don’t you understand?” he said. “Trying to reach you is like…grasping at smoke!”

She winced. He was right. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t change that without leaving him open to more pain and loss than he’d already experienced.

When he seemed to realize his words had stung her, he scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve…you’ve been through something terrible. That you’ve been hurt. Is it too much to ask to get to know you? What do I have to do?”

A lump grew in her throat. This was a disaster, the worst thing she could’ve done. Instead of feeling better, liberated, free from all that pent-up longing and desire, she felt as if she’d rolled around on broken glass and was bleeding from little cuts all over her body.

She turned so he couldn’t read the conflict in her eyes. “Just keep your promise.”

“My promise?”

“Find someone else for your next encounter.” Tears blurred her vision. She did her best to hide them while she put on her shoes. But he wouldn’t let her withdraw that easily. He took her arm and pulled her closer.

“I don’t understand you,” he whispered.

She couldn’t explain. Neither could she stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. She wanted to bury her face in his chest, beg him to hold her until she felt strong enough to face the world again. She didn’t need sex. She didn’t need anything except a shoulder to cry on. But she couldn’t even ask for that.

He used his thumbs to wipe her tears. “You think it was your ex-husband, don’t you.”

Stepping back, she pressed her palms to her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“For some weird reason, you think he’s here and he killed Pat. That’s all I can figure. You’ve been acting so strange since the murder.”

He was getting too close to the truth. “I don’t think it’s my ex.”

“Then why do you need a gun?”

His mention of her gun reminded her that it was still on the table. Reclaiming it, she shoved it into the waistband of her jeans again. “Because there’s a killer on the loose.”

“But why would he be more interested in you than anyone else?”

“For all I know, he’s not.”

“Then it wouldn’t be that big a deal if I confiscated your weapon.”

“Sorry. You had your chance earlier.”

His eyebrows shot up at her refusal. “If I decide to take it, you won’t have any choice.”

Frustrated with herself for crying, and for letting him see it, which was worse, she wiped her cheeks and threw back her shoulders. “Then you’ll just have to do what you have to do.”

Chuckling without humor, he shook his head. “Why does everything have to be so difficult with you?”

“It won’t be difficult if you keep your distance.”

He grabbed his shirt and yanked it on, but he didn’t insist she hand over her gun—thank God. “Give me his name.”

“Whose name?”

“Your bastard ex-husband’s.”

“No.”

“I already have his initials. TH, right? That’s what’s on your arm. Or maybe it’s FH. Tell me the rest. Let me check him out, see what he’s done and where he’s at. Maybe I can put your mind at rest.”

“No one can put my mind at rest. This is over. I have to get back to my children,” she said, and walked out.

No one can put my mind at rest. What did she mean by that? And why was she so damn secretive about her past?

The whole ride home, Myles wondered about those two questions. He could feel Vivian on the back of his bike, trying not to touch him, and it upset him—enough that he took the turns a little more sharply than usual just to make her cling to his waist. He hated that they’d argued, that the night hadn’t brought either of them the satisfaction they craved. But he couldn’t say this came as a surprise. She’d warned him not to get involved with her. Hell, he’d even warned himself.

You deserve this, asshole. He knew it was true. He’d dived in with his eyes wide open. But he’d said no last night and walked the floor for hours because of it, which hadn’t felt a heck of a lot better. Problem was, there didn’t seem to be any way to win with this woman. He wanted someone he should leave alone.

Shit… He’d been telling the truth when he said he was angry. He was angry—at her because she couldn’t make what they were feeling as simple as he wanted it to be, at himself for not being able to avoid getting tripped up by desire and at her ex-husband because he had to be the reason she was so afraid to trust.

Tonight had changed one thing, though. Myles was going to find out what really happened in Vivian’s past. Maybe she wouldn’t tell him her ex’s name, but he could start with hers and backtrack from there. He wanted to find the man who’d damaged her life, to hear what that man had to say for himself. Curiosity was quickly turning into a driving compulsion to reach the truth.

When he pulled into his driveway, Vivian hopped off the bike and removed her helmet. He got the impression that she would’ve put it on the ground and dashed off to her house with barely a goodbye if she could get away with it. But she had to collect her children.

He removed his own helmet. “You coming in? Or do you want me to carry the kids over?”

She nibbled on her bottom lip. “If they’re asleep, maybe we could leave them until morning. Would that be possible?”

This surprised him. She never let her children spend much time at his place, used any excuse she could to drag them away. “That’s fine.”

“They might get you up early…?.”

Leaning the bike to one side, he lowered the kickstand and got off. “Won’t bother me. I have to get up early, anyway.”

She scanned the street, then studied his house, which was dark except for the porch light glowing over the stoop like a full moon. “I’m sure they’re asleep.”

“It’s after midnight.”

“And they’ll be safe here.”

They were back to her obsession with safety. “I won’t let anything happen to them.” He wanted to tell her he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, either, but he knew she wouldn’t believe him.

“If they wake up and want me—”

He lifted the garage door and put the helmets away before rolling the bike inside. “They’ll be fine. I know where to find you if they need you.”

With a nod, she took off the jacket he’d lent her and gave it back to him. “Okay. Thanks. Bring them over as soon as you get up, no matter what time it is. I don’t want to put you out.”

He wished she’d stay over, too. Maybe then they could arrive at a sense of closure about tonight. They seemed to have so much unfinished business. But even if he could talk her into it, which he doubted, he wasn’t ready to sleep with another woman in the house where he’d lived with Amber Rose. That would be too strange, something he wouldn’t risk with Marley home, anyway. And yet it felt odd when Vivian thanked him politely and edged away as if they hadn’t made love several times.

“Hey!” he called.

She stopped at the edge of the grass. “Yes?”

“You might as well tell me, you know.”

“Tell you what?”

He scratched his neck to make his words seem more casual, less like a threat. “About whatever it is that has you so scared.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“You’re even afraid for your kids.”

“Having them stay with you tonight is for practical reasons, that’s all.”

“That’s not all.”

She didn’t reply. She just kept walking.

“I’m going to find out,” he called after her, but she didn’t turn around again.