Thieves Like Us Part 19

He held her gaze, something blazing deep within his eyes. "Confident. And incredibly competent."

He sprayed a dab of cream on one finger and held it in front of her.

She closed her mouth over it, making a show of sucking the cream off, then licking her lips. "Yum."

His dark eyes went black. "You're playing with fire, lady."

"Prove it." Not waiting for him, she reached out to unb.u.t.ton his jeans and lower the zipper. The material stretched across his hips where he straddled her, effectively trapping the part she most wanted to set free. "You'll have to move for the next step. Oh, and I'll be needing that can."

His smile met hers. "You catch on quickly."

"I'm a fast learner."

"Uh-huh." His mind seemed to be elsewhere as he scanned her shoulders and bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His fingers followed, palms softly molding the sides while his thumbs brushed the tops of her nipples. She drew a sharp breath and closed her eyes, riding the wave of pleasure that built inside her. His hands continued downward, unfastening her jeans. "But I'm on top so it looks like I get to go first."

She arched her hips, allowing him to strip off her pants and panties in one tug. "Darn." She didn't even pretend to sound sincere.

He laughed, but the dark desire in his eyes banished any thoughts of boyishness in his expression. He was pure man. His hair was mussed from her fingers, arms corded as he held himself over her, chest hard, and the line below his open zipper even harder. She ran her hand along its length, just to remind him that she had plans, too.

His eyes turned to shadowed slits as he reached for the whipped cream. Hooking an arm beneath her knee, he spread her thighs apart, sprayed a blob of whipped cream on two fingers, and smeared a line from her knee to the edge of her dark curls. He looked at the cream left on his fingers as if it were the most interesting part of what he'd done. She bit her lip and watched, mesmerized. Just when she was certain he was going to offer it to her to lick clean, he lowered his hand and stroked it up her center.

Flares shot off between her legs and she struggled to keep her voice steady. "I hope you plan to do more than tease me with that."

"Sweetheart, that's not teasing. That's a promise."

She knew it as well as he did, and she loved how he made her feel like she was melting into the bed.

"Promises, shmomis-" She broke off on a gasp as his tongue licked along the whipped cream trail from her knee upward. Without pausing, he followed it to its sweet end. She couldn't think; all she could do was feel.

Her fingers grabbed for purchase, fisting first into the sheet, then his shoulders, as fireworks danced behind her closed eyes. She thought she might scream from the pleasure, but her throat closed up and all she could manage was a tiny squeak of delight as he pushed her legs open and drove every nerve ending to shattering ecstasy. Muscles clenched all the way down to her toes, rigid with delight, then went limp.

He raised his head, looking pleased with himself. "I keep my promises."

"No argument here," she managed. Raising a limp hand, she wiggled her fingers as if testing for nerve damage. "I believe I've momentarily lost my fine motor skills, so would you mind taking off those jeans and boxers for me?"

He laughed and got right to it. Before tossing the jeans, he pulled a string of three condoms out of his pocket.

"Not yet. I haven't had my dessert," she purred.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that you aren't on a diet."

Even if she were, she would have given it up on the spot. Pulling him down beside her, she raised to one elbow and took her turn with the whipped cream, first applying it with gentle strokes, then licking it off. He shuddered once, choked on an expletive, then groaned in surrender. Less than a minute later, he lifted her head and flipped her onto her back. "You're done."

"I was just getting into it."

"You're done or else I'll be done. And I have other plans." Since he was reaching for a condom, she wasn't about to argue the point.

She was more than ready, making room for him between her legs, gripping the headboard behind her in antic.i.p.ation of the same energetic pace he'd set so far. Her breaths were already coming fast, her body impatient with need, aching to clench around him. He settled over her, took her mouth in a deep kiss, then slid inside her with one slow easy stroke.

And stopped. She felt hot and full, and whimpered with pleasure.

"G.o.d, you feel good," he groaned.

She gave him a another kiss. "I've heard it's even better if you move."

"Funny. You in a hurry?" He took one leisurely stroke, pus.h.i.+ng hard against her, watching her.

She caught her breath in the rush of desire. "Yes!" But then it would be over too fast. "I mean, no." But if he didn't move soon she'd die from sheer longing.

"Not thinking clearly?" He took another slow stroke and rubbed against her.

She moaned happily. "Guess not."

"Poor baby. How about if I drive this time and you don't have to think. But next time you're in charge."

"I can deal with that." Considering the liquid heat he ignited with each thrust, she'd agree to anything he suggested right now.

His lips curled into a c.o.c.ky smile as he began a slow rhythm. Dipping his head, he nuzzled her neck with feathery kisses as he moved.

It was quite possibly heaven. She trembled as the first few jolts of pleasure shot through her. Surprise flickered at the intensity, and she could have sworn she saw the same glimmer of wonder in his eyes, but she quickly dismissed it. There was nothing mysterious about enjoying s.e.x after going for so long without it. Especially if it was good s.e.x. Very good s.e.x. She refused to be distracted.

He moved faster and she followed his rhythm, allowing the mind-blowing sensations to drown any emotions beneath them. When he moved his hand between them and touched her, her last shred of coherent thought was gone. She tipped her head back as desire built to frantic purpose.

His ragged breaths matched hers. Tension showed in his jaw as he held back, waiting for her need to catch up with his. In the next breathless moment it did, and somehow he knew. He drove into her with the force she craved. She came hard, releasing a startled exclamation before wrapping him in a tight embrace as he shuddered and dropped his head into the cradle of her neck.

A contented groan vibrated against her. "That was definitely worth waiting for."

The dreamy haze cleared as a sliver of concern pierced her languor. Worth waiting for? She ran his comment past her dulled brain one more time. "We just did it yesterday."

"Not that, we didn't."

She didn't want to ask him what he meant, because she was afraid it had something to do with that moment when physical pleasure got tangled up with emotion, and everything had suddenly felt brighter, and warmer, and more right than it ever had before.

It was more than she had expected.

And she was still shaking.

Chapter.

Eleven.

Five hours later Janet was pleasantly sore, exhausted, and more pleased with her life than at any time in the past eighteen months. Rocky was a pa.s.sionate and experienced lover, better than she could have imagined, even if he did have a few misguided ideas about her. Like his notion that marrying a psychopathic liar said nothing about her ability to choose men. He obviously gave her too much credit. But since that seemed to be his only major flaw, she was willing to overlook it.

Rocky dropped her off at the Westfield mansion with still-damp tresses after a hasty shower at Ellie's house. She'd done a half-a.s.sed job drying it, what with putting the freshly laundered sheets back on the bed and still being a bit foggy after he'd blown her mind. As they stood at the front door, he reached up to rearrange a few tendrils near her face, like a fussy hair dresser making final adjustments.

She raised a self-conscious hand to her hair. "Does it look awful? Do you think Libby will know that my night out ended with a shower? That kid notices everything, especially if it has to do with s.e.x."

"It's fine," he told her, fluffing a spot over her ear and smiling at the results. "I've developed an affection for that tousled look. Makes it look like you just got out of bed." His smile turned roguish. "With me."

She slapped his hand away. "Grow up." But she couldn't help indulging a thrill of delight at his smug and very masculine look of conquest. She was feeling a bit smug herself, like the plain Jane high school girl who somehow snagged the popular quarterback.

"Thanks for taking me out, Rocky. The DIA was fun."

"Anytime."

"Good." She gave him a warm kiss. "See you in the morning?"

"Except then."

She blinked, surprised at how quickly she'd been rejected.

"I have to work tomorrow," he explained. "I've been putting off clients all week, and I need to get a few security jobs done. Maybe tomorrow night?"

"Sure."

He drew her in for a long, soulful kiss that probably curled a few more hairs on her head. "I'll call you, babe. 'Night."

"Good night." d.a.m.n, she really had to get over this feeling that her day wouldn't be as much fun unless he was with her. Surely she wasn't that far gone.

Janet slipped in the front door as quietly as possible, careful not to draw attention to her arrival. She'd prefer to get to her room without having to answer a dozen well-intentioned questions about her evening. She'd nearly made it when Libby came around the corner of the upstairs hall, rus.h.i.+ng forward as she spotted her.

"Janet! You're finally home!"

Great, the girl had been lying in wait. Maybe she could plead exhaustion and make a quick escape. "Hey, Lib. How's it going?"

"Awful." Her huge brown eyes expressed her misery, wide and worried.

Janet paused. It wasn't the reaction she'd expected from the perpetually bubbly teenager. "I'm sorry to hear that." She took a closer look as Libby stopped in front of her, with her hands tucked deep in her jean pockets and her shoulders hunched beneath her glossy brown hair. Concern showed in her eyes and the pinched corners of her mouth. The kid was obviously miserable. And worse, she looked scared.

"Come here." Janet grabbed Libby's arm and pulled her into the bedroom, closing the door behind them. Turning the girl to face her, she dipped her head down to force eye contact from Libby. "What's wrong?"

Libby shrugged and bit her lip. A dozen possible fears ran through Janet's mind and chilled her to the bone. Was something wrong with Elizabeth? No, she would have gotten a call. Bad news from Jack and Ellie? Traveling through Europe by car, train, and who knew what else exposed them to a frightening list of possible accidents. A tragic encounter between the cats and the young dog? They'd left Elizabeth with a menagerie of pets perfectly primed to explode. Janet's mind invented disaster after disaster and her stomach clenched nervously as she waited.

The girl finally pushed aside her curtain of hair and peered at Janet. "Did you hear them when you came in?" Libby's near whisper made the question seem almost sinister.

"Hear who?" Janet had snuck through the foyer and up the stairs as fast as she could. "I didn't hear anyone."

Libby's lips pressed together before she spit out the answer. "Grandma and Grandpa B. They've been fighting for hours."

"Oh." Rocky had mentioned a disagreement between them, and Elizabeth had seemed a bit more edgy the past couple days. She doubted they'd literally been arguing for hours, but it definitely had been long enough to upset their granddaughter. "All couples have disagreements," she told Libby. "It doesn't mean they don't love each other."

As soon as she'd said it, she realized what a weak plat.i.tude it was for a girl with Libby's background. Starting life abandoned by a drug-addicted mother had been just her first disadvantage. She had grown up with maternal grandparents who didn't have the money or inclination to raise another child, leaving Libby with a ton of insecurities. If her mother's younger sister hadn't shouldered the responsibility of raising the girl no one else wanted, Janet didn't want to think about what path Libby's life could have taken. Finding Jack had been lucky. Not all birth fathers would have offered the unconditional love and security she'd found with him, and Libby knew it. People couldn't always be trusted to do the right thing. This kid had seen the worst life could offer; she wasn't going to buy into hearts and rainbows.

She rubbed Libby's arms, hoping the physical contact would be rea.s.suring. "Come on, let's sit down. Tell me why you're so worried." She led the way to the bed, thinking they could settle against the headboard for an intimate chat, but Libby dropped to the floor instead, legs folded and back propped against the bed. Janet smiled to herself; she'd forgotten that floors were the same as furniture for thirteen-year-olds. She sat down, too.

"So what's going on? Are they yelling at each other?" As hard as it was to imagine Elizabeth Westfield raising her voice, she knew it would be scary for Libby if she overheard something like that.

"My grandmother doesn't yell," Libby stated flatly.

So much for that theory. "Is Ben yelling at her?" That was a little easier to picture, even though she'd never seen it happen. But she had seen him get furious over some of the things Banner had done, and knew he could be intimidating.

"Not exactly. He doesn't have to yell. You can tell he's mad."

She could believe that. "Do you know what they're mad about?"

"Yeah, I listened for a long time." She said it without a trace of shame, as if she had every right to eavesdrop. "Grandpa Ben wants them to get married, but he won't live in this house. He says it's pretentious-I looked it up, and I guess he's right. Plus it's Banner's house, so he says it's a conflict of interest for the chief of police to live here. He wants Grandma to sell it and buy something smaller so they can start fresh."

It was hard to imagine Elizabeth selling the Westfield mansion. Janet knew the elaborate house and grounds had been Banner's idea, but Elizabeth had always seemed to belong here. Maybe because she'd grown up with wealth it was difficult to imagine her living without all the trappings, right down to the butler and the koi pond.

"I guess your grandmother likes it here," Janet said.

Libby shrugged. "Maybe."

The indifferent response surprised her. "Isn't that why she doesn't want to sell the house?"

"No." Libby's voice grew more miserable. "It's because of me."

She would have refused to believe it, but Libby was more perceptive than the average kid. And the crushed look on her face wasn't due to some imagined problem. She almost hated to ask. "What did you hear?"

Libby picked at the carpet as she talked. "Grandma thinks people might hate me for my background. 'Cause I lived in Detroit and 'cause my dad was in jail, and mostly 'cause Uncle Banner did all those things and will probably go to prison for the rest of his life. Everyone at the club whispers about her and says our family lost all its money because of Banner, and we might lose the company, too."

"That's not true, Libby."

She shrugged. "That's what people think."

"It doesn't matter what people think."

"It does to Grandma." Janet couldn't argue with that. "She grew up here and she says appearances are everything. And now our lives are a train wreck, and everyone in Bloomfield Hills is watching."

Janet could see how that would mortify Elizabeth. "How does that affect you?"

"Grandma said I won't get invited to the right places or meet the right people. I don't even care about that stuff, Janet! But she said I don't realize how people think, and it's more important than I know."

s.h.i.+t. That sounded just like Elizabeth Payton Westfield. Libby hadn't been kidding when she said it was because of her. And the h.e.l.l of it was, Elizabeth had a point.

Janet hadn't thought about it before, but she'd been raised in a well-to-do community, too, and knew what Elizabeth said was true. For many people, money equaled status. And for a kid with Libby's questionable background to fit in and be accepted, it took a lot of money. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair, but it was a fact. Libby shouldn't suffer because her earlier life had been less than perfect, or because she had the misfortune of being related to Banner-but she would.

Though not with everyone. Janet had no doubt some shallow and vain people would reject Libby, but Janet had lived in this town long enough to know there were plenty of open-minded people who would never judge Libby by those standards. Elizabeth had to know that, too. So, her reasons for not wanting to sell the house went deeper than her granddaughter's social life. Startling as it seemed, beneath that confident exterior, Elizabeth buried a lot of insecurity.

Libby raised suddenly watery eyes and asked, "Do you think Ginny's parents won't like me if Grandma sells the house?"