“Mine came from my daddy.” Her breath created a pool of warmth on his shoulder. “I still miss him. Is your dad around?”
“Died.” His mouth twisted. “He survived Vietnam and returned to die stateside from a fucking helicopter malfunction.”
“That’s hard.” She gave his chest a comforting stroke. “So you only had your mom?”
“Nosey little submissive.” There was the difference between them. His curiosity was driven by the need to know how things worked—even humans. Hers was because she gave a damn.
What the fuck was he doing here, letting her…in? He turned his head so he could breathe in the scent of her hair, rub his chin in the silky strands. That’s what he wanted. More than her soft body, he wanted the sweetness of her spirit. Her warmth. Tex had the backbone to stand up to him—and the heart to care.
Yeah. He might just have to keep this one.
Which meant he owed her more of himself than anyone had gotten since he’d been a young, stupid man.
She didn’t speak, didn’t demand answers. Her silence was patient. No wonder people talked to her.
“Mom lost it when he died. Alcohol. Drugs.” His mouth tightened as he remembered how his mother would hook up with a man to get rent and food. Eventually the guy’d tire of pricey nooky or catch her screwing around, and kick her—and her kid—back into the street. “Prostitution.”
“I’m sorry,” Lindsey murmured. Her fingers stroked his rigid jaw, down and over his chest.
The darkness seemed to enclose them in a bubble. Her touch was giving him a hard-on, and he caught her wrist. “Stop.”
She froze for a second and pulled away.
“Shit.” He turned to face her, side by side. In the dim light, he could see her gaze was lowered. Her expression was blank. He ran his knuckles over her cheek and let out a breath of relief when she looked at him. “If you kept touching me, I’d end up fucking you. Not a bad thing, but I wanted to talk.”
She blinked and then her expression filled with understanding. Her lips turned up. Pleased.
“You know you turn me on, pet,” he said softly. “Don’t doubt that.”
Her nod was short. Uncomfortable.
Yeah, they were going to talk some more. “Tell me about feeling unwanted. Was your last husband seeing someone else?”
Her breathing stuttered. Rather than answering, she pressed her mouth into a flat line. Stubborn Texan.
“Guess that’s a yes. We’re going to stay right here until you tell me about it.”
“It’s none of your business.” Her defiance—in his bed—reminded him of a scrappy terrier facing off against a Rottweiler. Not smart, but plenty ballsy.
“You’re my business.” The words belled through him with a resonance that said truth.
When she fought to sit up, to get out of bed, he tossed a leg over her to hold her down while he reached for the bedside-stand drawer. Damn he liked her wiggling.
After donning a condom, he rolled on top of her, flattening her with his weight. Her small breasts were crushed against his chest; her full hips cushioned him in softness. He set aside the need to simply take her and instead braced himself on an elbow and captured her chin.
She glared up at him, her soft lips set in a sulky expression.
Be fucking fun to kiss the attitude off her mouth. A shame it wouldn’t help him get answers. “Tell me.”
“Get off me. I need to leave. I have an appointment at nine.”
“It’ll suck if you miss it. Tell me.”
“God, you’re a pushy bastard.”
“Yep. Keep squirming, and I’ll fuck you after our talk. Make you even later.” He grinned at the screech she made—like a whistling teakettle.
“How did you find out he was screwing around on you?” In his experience, a memory like that set off a cascade of others.
“I picked up the phone at the wrong time. Someone had called from the ranch to say he had a”—she struggled over the word—“
pretty boy
for my husband to check out.”
“Fuck, seriously?”
“Y-yes.” Her voice broke. “And Victor s-said it was about time, since if he had to keep fucking his old, fat wife without a break, he’d barf.”
DeVries wanted to snap the bastard’s neck. With an effort, he set his anger aside and concentrated on the rest. “A pretty boy? Sounds like you married a pedophile.”
“He was,” she whispered.
Most pedophiles weren’t attracted to adult women. Braced on his elbow, DeVries stroked her arm. Her skin was chilled. “There a reason why he married you?”
She nodded. “My ranch. He never wanted me.” Her sigh was bitter. “He acted very loving, but…I got so I knew he didn’t like the way I looked. Not sexually. I had breasts. And hips. And—”
“And now you don’t think they’re appealing.” She made sense. Lindsey had a woman’s body. He ran his thumb over her lower lip, felt the quiver. “You know, a man—unless he’s gay or a pervert—likes breasts and hips.”
“I know.” She averted her face. Denying him control.
“Your head tells you that. Your subconscious won’t believe it. Not easily.” He put his hand over her breast and felt her flinch. Talking about the bastard had revived old memories. “We’ve got some more work to do.”
“We?” She pushed at his shoulders with her small hands. Totally useless action, considering he probably outweighed her by about seventy-five pounds. “There is no we.”
“Right,” he said agreeably, using one knee to part her legs. “So I’ll show you how I feel about breasts and hips and afterward let you leave.”
“You—you weasel.”
He kissed her neck. Her cheek. Her mouth.
She pressed her lips together, denying him a kiss.
Damn, he enjoyed her. His mouth feathered over hers as he fondled the breast in his hand. Mmmhmm, the combination of soft and firm could drive a man crazy. He pinched her nipple hard enough she gasped.
He took her mouth and surged in, plundering in the same way he planned to take her cunt.
Fuck, he loved the little purr he coaxed out of her. How she went boneless under him. Even when she was pissed off, her body responded. Wanted him. Made him feel like a god.
He gentled his touch, thumbed her nipple to a point as he considered. He’d fucked a hell of a lot of women—enough to know the difference between faking and real excitement. Lindsey hadn’t had a wealth of lovers in her past, and when she was married to the asshole, her subconscious would have felt every slight and let them damage her sense of self-worth.
It’d be a pleasure showing her the effect she had on a real man. And was a relief to know the play they’d done yesterday had actually been on target. Even if it had ended badly.
He lifted his head. As she sputtered, he smiled down at her.
He considered flipping her so he could fondle all the parts he liked, but…face-to-face was better right now. “Since you have an appointment…” Deliberately, he fit his cock against her entrance and pressed. Slick and hot. “We’ll have to be quick.”
With one hard thrust, he buried himself to the hilt.
Her whole body arched. Her cunt pulsed around him.
Her gaze had gone slightly unfocused, and he waited until he was sure she could hear him. “Damn, I love the way you feel. Under me. Around me.”
He could almost see her subconscious take his words in.
Yeah, there was going to be a lot of fucking in his future.
* * * *
Lindsey entered the battered women’s shelter with two minutes to spare and headed toward the meeting room.
Her insides were still quivering. DeVries might be pushy about getting what he wanted, but he always made her come at least once—usually more—before he finished. Damn it. How could she yell at him properly when she was all flushed from coming?
He’d driven her back to her car, politely held the door, and kissed her so sweetly, so possessively, she could only stare at him when he closed the door. His smack on the roof of the car had made her jump. And he’d laughed when she’d glared at him.
God, his teasing sent tingles up her spine, and she was totally thrilled she could lighten his spirits. Especially after finding out how ugly his childhood had been. She held a hand to her chest, aching for what he’d endured. While she’d been playing with her sisters on the ranch, he’d been living with a hooker.
DeVries hadn’t totally spilled his guts, though. More haunted him. But…she’d get it out of him and help him deal. She could. She wanted to share everything with him. Her feet stopped abruptly as she realized her total idiocy.
She couldn’t. Absolutely couldn’t.
And he was so damn persuasive, she almost had. At least she’d kept from blurting out the entire story of Victor’s death and how she’d been stupid enough to go to the ranch to confront him.
Her stomach tightened. Victor had not only been raping the young Mexicans being smuggled across the border but was running a smuggling operation. Humans and drugs came from Mexico; weapons and ammunition went back.
She’d been unbelievably gullible. He hadn’t loved her. Ever. He’d wanted her ranch because it sat right on the US-Mexico border.
Enough of that.
She pushed open the door to the room. “Hey.”
At the table, Edna watched Lindsey with hope in her eyes and an uncertain set to her mouth. “I got the form filled out.”
“Perfect. As it happens, I have some ideas on jobs. We can fill out applications if you find any you like.” When Edna gave her a tentative smile, Lindsey felt more than rewarded for the extra time she’d taken.
“I appreciate you coming in on a Sunday,” Edna said.
“Not to worry.” Lindsey opened the folder up. “Your counseling and doctor appointments are more important. And my boss will let me take time back.” Xavier had made it clear he appreciated flexibility and would give extra comp-time in return.
Within only a couple of hours, Lindsey was pleased with their decisions and even happier with the look on Edna’s face.
Hope.
Fragile but present.
“We did good work today,” she said to the older woman. “That was the last of the applications.” And she was starving. The scent of bacon had drifted into the room, reminding her she hadn’t had breakfast. Her stomach rumbled in complaint.
“Why don’t you stay for brunch?” Edna said. “The cooks always make too much food.”
“I-I…” Why not? The more she learned about how shelters operated, the better job she could do for the women. “I’d love to stay.”
The residents were sitting down at the long tables in the dining room.
Edna said, “Everyone, I’ve invited Lindsey to eat with us. Would you believe, she has a for-sure job for me as well as a couple more I might like. And she’ll get me into a trade school when I’m ready.”
As the chorus of congratulations made Edna beam, pleasure washed over Lindsey. This was why she’d gone into social work.
Jeremiah’s mother waved her hand. “Can you sit by me? I have some questions.”
“Of course.” Lindsey joined the table, dispensing information about jobs, education, and finding daycare.
Almost silently, Jeremiah, Jenna, and another child ate their food. Lindsey and her sisters had never behaved so nicely when there were guests. In fact, they’d chattered away, delighted to have a new audience. Each visitor had been like a gift.
For these children here, she wasn’t a treat but a possible threat. Only a man would be considered more menacing. Poor deVries. He really hadn’t liked terrifying the kids.
And now that she’d thought of him… She smiled at the boy he’d befriended. “Jeremiah, did Mr. deVries return to work on the door?”
He nodded vigorously. “I helped him. With everything.” The boy’s eyes were shining. “He gave me ten dollars because he says a man gets paid for his work.”
“You must have done a very good job,” Lindsey said. Did deVries have any idea of the effect he’d had on this child? Sure, he did. His Dom talents didn’t shut down when he left the club.
“He worked hard,” Jenna piped up. “The man said Jeremiah was an
sellend
helper.”
“Ex-cell-ent,” her mother prompted.
“E-sellend.” Jenna chewed on the end of her braid before offering, “Jeremiah spilled the things on the floor. The man laughed.”
DeVries had
laughed
at the kid? What kind of a—
“He didn’t hit me or yell,” Jeremiah whispered. “He made a…a little huffy sound. An’ said it was nothin’. He helped fix cars when he was eight, and he dumped a whole bucket of oil all over. Cuz he tripped.”
“Damn,” she said under her breath. A perfect response.
One woman, sitting beside Lindsey, sighed sadly. “So many of us forget what a normal man is like.” She patted her chest. “Even me. I actually had a good childhood. That’s the kind of joke my father would have made.”
Lindsey smiled. “Mine too.”
“If Papa had still been alive, he’d have killed my husband,” Jeremiah’s mother said softly enough the children wouldn’t hear.
Lindsey’s smile faded. Yes, her father would have torn Victor apart.
DeVries was also the type of man who would defend a woman. Regrettably he couldn’t protect her from the police. Getting him involved might get him killed.
Looking down, she pretended to concentrate on her food, seeing instead the officer who had responded to her 9-1-1 call that horrendous night. Craig had been a classmate of Melissa’s. He’d been stunned at the sight of Victor’s body. Even so, after viewing the boxes of weapons and the drugs and speaking with the boy, he’d been firmly on her side. After calling in the report, he’d let her go to shower off the blood.
And Parnell had killed him. His own officer…merely for knowing what had really happened.
No, she couldn’t risk deVries. Mustn’t.
Chapter Eleven
Friday evening was chill with a mist bordering on rain as deVries knocked on the door of Lindsey’s house. Country-western music was playing softly enough he could hear the soft thud of her feet on the wooden floor. Over the past few days, he’d noticed she was often barefoot. One more habit showing who she was. He liked a woman who went for comfort at home.
When she opened the door, he had to grin. Yep, he was dead-on. Barefoot. Jeans and a loose T-shirt. A clamp held her brown hair on top of her head, showing the purple strands. Her face brightened for a second before she scowled. “What are you doing here?”