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She laughed as he tossed her on his bed and whisked her night shirt over her head. “This he-man stuff doesn’t work for me,” she insisted, her heartbeat going haywire as he ripped her panties off.
“Prove it.” Mitchell spread her legs, his eyes traveling from her gaping pussy to her face, nailing her with one of those fixed gazes that said he was focused solely on her and no one or nothing else.
Her humor fled as he trailed a finger up her slit then down her crack to dampen that taboo orifice, drawing her attention to the pinprick tingles from those slaps still racing across her buttocks as she shifted on the bed. She still struggled with understanding how one man could cause her pain she wanted nothing to do with and another make her burn and ache for the blistering sting of his hand connecting with her bare flesh.
“You’re thinking too hard.” Mitchell kept his eyes on hers as he continued to glide up and down between pussy and anus while stroking his semi-erection into a steel rod.
His salt and pepper hair hung in disheveled thickness around his face and neck, soot still stained his cheek and chest and those firm lips were set in a tight line as he waited for acceptance. Arousal replaced conflicting thoughts and she arched into his hand. “You’re right.” Reaching up, she gripped his forearms and pleaded, “Fuck me again, please.”
“Please what?” he asked in a silky steel voice as he dragged his cock up between her cheeks and through her slick pussy lips.
Lillian gave in with a shudder. “Sir.” He filled her with a single, womb-bouncing plunge, wrenching a cry from her constricted throat and abolishing all thoughts except one. More.
Bryan couldn’t believe it. Letting himself into his motel room, he grabbed the bottle of bourbon on the desk and poured himself a hefty swallow. He still shook inside, unable to comprehend how he could have been so careless. With disgust, he stubbed out the cigarette. He’d barely made it back to his car around the corner from the doctor’s residence when the wail of sirens came screeching up the street. When the fire truck and cops pulled in front of the garage he’d just broken into, he noticed the smoke drifting out of the open upstairs door as Lillian came running down the stairs. Nervous sweat still ran down his back to pool at the base of his spine.
Lifting the bottle, he skipped the glass and took the next long pull from the container as his wobbly legs gave out and he sank down onto the bed. B and E was one thing, and in this case, the ends justified the means. But causing a fire that could have taken a life was something he never would have attempted intentionally, not even for his brother. He fished her cell phone out of his back pocket, swearing when he couldn’t find any pictures. Jesus, all for nothing again. Tossing the phone on the bed, he reached for his and pressed Brad’s hospital number, hoping he was awake, and if so, he would have his cell.
“Where the hell are you?” Brad’s tired voice came through the line and relief eased Bryan’s tension.
“In Billings, Montana, and it’s nice to hear from you, too. You gave me quite a scare, little brother.”
“Sorry. I guess I’m not infallible after all. Why the hell are you in Montana?” he grumbled.
“Because this is where I tracked your assaulting ex to. I managed to search her computer and now have her phone, but can’t find any pictures of herself with bruises. I think she lied to you.” Exasperation colored his tone as he took another swig of alcohol, his earlier blunder still haunting him.
There was a long pause and some cursing before Brad snapped, “I told you to let it go. Why didn’t you listen?”
“Because I’m not letting her get away with landing you where you’re at now. Fuck that, Brad, you could have died from her jealous assault.” And that still scared him, even more than coming close to causing real physical harm to Lillian tonight.
“She takes pictures with a high-resolution camera that she usually keeps in her car, but, seriously, Bryan, leave her be. I’ll recover and be back on my feet in no time.”
Brad’s tired voice reminded him how close he’d come to dying, and made it difficult to nix his plan to bring Lillian in. “Get some rest. I’ll head back and be there before you’re discharged,” he replied, but not before he got that camera. He couldn’t risk her or the cops connecting him to the fire tonight, leaving him
no choice but to set aside his desire for justice, like Brad wanted. But the least Bryan could do was ensure she didn’t return with her blackmail threat in the future.
Chapter 11
Lillian had slept like a baby spooned in front of Mitchell, her buttocks nestled against his groin, his bearded chin resting on her head with his arm wrapped around her waist. It was a shame she awoke alone, she thought as she slid out of bed. She would have enjoyed going another round with him. From the first moment they’d met, he had known exactly what she needed to get through whatever phase of grief or adjustment she was struggling with and it still baffled her how she could accept and enjoy his sexual dominance when everything in her rebelled at giving a man, any man, an ounce of control over her. Living under the strain of Brad’s depraved threats for a month should have soured her for good against all men. She was honest enough with herself to admit something had changed and clicked that last night at Mitchell’s cabin when he unselfishly set aside his desire to spend that time alone to deal with his own loss to aid her in coping with Liana’s death.
Picking up the bag of belongings he had gathered from the smoke-ruined apartment, she padded into the attached bathroom marveling at how far she’d come in such a short time. And all due to someone she never would have believed could slip past her shield of independence.
Nothing to do about it now except go forward, she mused as she went through the meager remains of clothing left to her. Two pairs of pants, jeans and slacks, one long-sleeved top, a tee shirt and a pullover sweater. The only underwear she now possessed were the ripped panties lying on the bedroom floor. “I’m a perv,” she muttered as a heated thrill swept through her that she denied aloud. “He might like to go commando, but not me.” First on her agenda today was a shopping trip into Billings. Make that second, she amended when her stomach growled.
Lillian helped herself to a shower and dressed in the jeans and top before opening her purse to see what make-up items she might still have inside. Right off she realized her phone was missing and prayed it had dropped out when Mitchell picked up her bag. She found him in the torn-apart kitchen, his cell to his ear as he flicked her an assessing, head-to-toe look before finishing his call.
“Thanks, Maggie. I’ll be in by noon. What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as he clicked off.
“You know, I may have come around to your way of thinking when it comes to sex, but I still dislike how you can read me with such accuracy. It’s just creepy.”
“Deal with it and answer my question.”
Okay, this part of his bossiness she did not care for. “Look, Mitchell…”
He stalked toward her but she held her ground, lifting her chin as he stood toe to toe with her. “Someone was upstairs with you, while you were sleeping, vulnerable to whatever crime he wanted to commit. Stow your objections to my officiousness until we figure out who, and why.”
Lillian took a deep, calming breath and nodded. Pointing out the danger to her last night of an even worse crime than breaking and entering doused her annoyance with the effectiveness of a splash of cold water to the face. “Fine, for now. My cell is missing. It probably fell out in the apartment. I need to get in and look for it.”
He shook his head with a frown. “I picked up your purse by the top and kept it closed, but we’ll check. If we don’t find it, our first stop is the sheriff’s office.”
