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He remembered brushing it back so he could kiss away her tears as he held her on the floor of a dirty shack.
Closing his eyes, he remembered the salty tears, her determination to replace the horror with at least a few moments of pleasure. He remembered her anger, her strength, and her refusal to give in to the hysteria he could feel racing through her body.
And he’d kissed her as a man.
At twenty-four he’d been experienced, hardened even then, already a SEAL, a killer. But that night, for one moment out of time, he’d been a man who wanted to love a woman. Who regretted the fact that if he could love, he’d have already given his heart to the young woman he held that night.
Because that kiss, as much as he hadn’t held back with her, was still like a dream. The one and only moment of tenderness he’d probably ever felt for anyone else in his life. And he was about to betray that woman in the worst possible way.
He was going to use her to take down those she believed were friends. Two men she cared for, thought of as family. How could she forgive him for that?
As he waited through the day for nightfall, he worked at cleaning out the backyard, cut the grass, did some light maintenance.
As night fell, he drove through the alley behind the Porter home to ensure her vehicle wasn’t there before returning to his own house. Then he showered and prepared to slip into Poppy’s home.
It was one in the morning before he got up from his chair as he watched her house, tucked his service weapon at the small of his back, and slipped silently through his back door.
Her house was directly across the alley. Neighboring vehicles included several work vans and trucks, giving him reasonable concealment as he made his way to the back door.
Any security cameras were currently being jammed. Just as Poppy’s home security system had been deactivated. Once he returned to his house, he’d reactivate them as though nothing had happened.
It took no time to unlock the back door, though he cursed her foresight in having nothing growing around her back porch. Thankfully, the roof provided enough shadows that he felt reasonably safe.
Stepping into the neat kitchen, he gazed around, his lips quirking at the night-light on the counter. Not enough illumination to shadow him against the blinds, but enough that he could easily see.
She had one in every room.
As he went through the house methodically searching for any paperwork or files, he learned quite a few things about her. Most he already knew, though. She had the same group of friends that she’d had at seventeen. She was impeccably neat, if you discounted the several junk drawers he found, drawers that held everything from safety pins to ink pens, screwdrivers, and rubber bands.
He went through her office, the guest bedroom, laundry closet, linen closet, and washroom before he stepped into her bedroom.
He could smell her there. On the mirrored dresser, he found a bottle of the perfume that gave her a spicy, ethereal scent, and made note of the name. She had makeup in one drawer, hair products in another. Frilly underclothes and pajamas in several others. The normal female stuff, with nothing hidden or pushed out of sight.
At the top of her closet, he found a large shoebox. In it were pictures, mementos, letters. Among them were several pictures he’d forgotten existed that had been taken of him with a younger Poppy. And several taken of him in the past nine years that she’d somehow gotten a copy of.
He stared at the last one taken of them together, the summer she turned seventeen. Damn, she was even prettier now than she had been then. Putting that picture in his back pocket, he replaced the box, then turned to her nightstand.
Buried beneath several books was a device he knew he should have expected but hadn’t.
God help him. He was going to go to hell for sure for the images that suddenly filled his mind.
The vibrator with a clitoral stimulator attached and the sweetest fucking scent surrounding it.
Son of a bitch.
He replaced it hurriedly, but couldn’t help but imagine Poppy, thighs spread, her head thrown back in pleasure as that fucking feminine toy did its job while she held it in place.
His cock swelled to full erection at the thought, his balls tightening. What did she think about, he wondered, while she let that damned toy have her?
Who did she think about?
He palmed his hardness through his dark pants, knowing that this discovery was going to fucking haunt him. Every time he looked over at her house when she was home, he’d wonder if she was lying there, wet and wild, moaning, whispering his name as that goddamned device fucked her.
He closed the drawer quickly and rose to his feet.
Not a file or a scrap of paper that couldn’t be explained. There wasn’t a laptop or a tablet, either, though he quickly realized she’d have taken that with her.
Tablet or laptop, either would be easy enough to get into once she connected it to her internet again. The small device he had attached to the back of her router ensured that.
