Manhunting in Mississippi (16 page)

Ian al owed himself one sweeping, mouth-drying gaze at her body, and nearly came undone. She lay on the table with her head and arms thrown back, looking at him through

thick lashes. Her breasts jutted in the air, glistening from the bath he’d given them. The inward curve of her waist sloped into the outward curve of her hip with perfection that could only be found in nature. High-cut bathing-suit bottoms had left a V of pale skin at the fork of her thighs, outlining the center of her desire. She had one knee slightly raised, which Ian kissed while he slipped off her sandals.

Mesmerized by her beauty, Ian reached for the open jar of maraschino cherries and tipped it to the side, drenching the tangle of dark curls between her thighs with the cold red juice. One perfect stemmed cherry slipped out and bounced against her nest, lingering there. She jerked spasmodical y as the liquid pooled and traveled down the channel of her sex, dripping from her and onto the table.

A neat person at the core, Ian bent to catch the remaining juice with his tongue.

Piper felt like a bowl of melting ice cream, losing her hard edges and firm boundaries and simply flowing to meet whatever she happened to encounter. She didn’t think Ian

could tease another nerve ending, could push another button, until she felt his hot breath on her thighs and his tongue removing the red, sticky sauce from her most sensitive folds.

She yel ed his name, and raised her arms above her head, searching for something to grab on to. Encountering the wal , she pushed against it, moving against his tongue. He

lifted one leg and draped it over his shoulder, then probed her entrance with his fingers. With a sudden thrust of his arm, he fil ed her, massaging her, making love to her with his hand while removing the vestiges of the cherry syrup with long, hard strokes of his tongue.

Piper remembered enough about sex to know she’d never had an orgasm like the one building in her loins. She felt total y wanton and selfish, wanting and needing the release

only he could deliver. He moaned against her skin and hummed on the tender nub of her control, playing her like a mouth instrument. She urged him on with as much encouragement as she could form in her throat. As she drew near the pinnacle, she relied on guttural noises and frantic hip thrusts to let him know she was zooming closer. With two slashes of his plundering tongue, he sent her sailing over the edge. She convulsed around his fingers, and against his mouth, gasping his name, clawing at the wal behind her. He coaxed her down with soft strokes and soothing noises, withdrawing his fingers gently and kissing her sensitive thighs.

His hands snaked behind her and slowly pul ed her upright into a sitting position. In his teeth, he held the single cherry and offered her half in a slow juicy kiss. On his tongue she tasted chocolate, cherries and her own musk, a heady mix. She pressed her breasts against the width of his chest, reveling in the firm wal of muscle across his back. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she pul ed herself to the edge of the table, gasping when the fabric of his jeans brushed against her sensitive, engorged skin.

She reached around and ran her hands underneath the waistband of his boxers, squeezing his buttocks. When she put her hands on the snap below his flat stomach, he put his

hand over hers.

“Piper,” he whispered, “don’t do this unless you are absolutely sure.”

A shiver ran through her, despite the heat and their fevered skin. “I’m sure,” she answered, and unzipped his jeans. He kicked off his shoes, and she pushed his jeans down

over his thighs. He dragged them down his legs, then stepped out of them. His pale boxers did nothing to hide his fabric-straining erection.

She greedily pul ed down his waistband to free his arousal, the sight of his rigid member sending new moisture to dampen the wood beneath her. Clasping him firmly with both

hands, she fel against him in a deep kiss, stroking him until beads of his moisture flowed down over her fingers.

Pushing against his chest, she slid down his body until her feet touched the floor, then she urged him backward, until he had to sit in the chair she’d abandoned. As he sat, she fel to her knees, bringing the chocolate with her.

She scooped up a palmful of the warm, sticky sauce and slathered it on his straining member in long, milking strokes. He watched her with hooded eyes, and when she leaned

forward to take him into her mouth, she saw his eyes rol back in ecstasy. She had never pleased a man with her mouth, and she loved it—the power to bring him to the brink, and let him ebb away, only to bring him closer the next time. He kneaded her shoulders, gasping and groaning through clenched teeth, while she devoured him.

“Piper. Now—I need to make love to you now.”

He stood and carried her, setting her on the table, then stooped and fished his wal et out of his jeans. With hurried hands, he removed a condom, ripped open the package and rol ed it on. Panting heavily, he held the smal of her back with one hand and positioned himself at her entrance with his other. She was so slick with fulfil ment and renewed need, he entered her with one massive thrust. Piper gasped, then groaned her pleasure as he fil ed her completely. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she fol owed his rhythm lead, her body already tuned for another explosion.

He was a vocal lover, and she found his throaty exclamations an incredible turn-on. His hands never stil ed during their lovemaking—he ran his fingers over her back and hips, into her hair, over her throat and neck and face. As his thrusts became quicker and harder, Piper felt her body start to hum. He responded to her frantic noises by shifting her backward slightly and caressing her nipples while plunging into her deep and hard.

The orgasm hit her like the flash from a camera, startling and lingering. She cried his name over and over. When his own noises escalated, she urged him home. The muscles

in his shoulders and stomach bunched, then he shuddered and gasped her name, his expression an intense mixture of pleasure and pain.

In the few seconds of his utmost vulnerability, of his wild abandon, Piper felt a poignant loss, because during those few seconds, she loved Ian. For that moment in time, he wasn’t a virtual stranger from halfway across the country who would never accept someone like her into his life, and she wasn’t a lonely old maid who felt more affinity for a limestone house than for her own mother. For that moment in time, they were two star-crossed lovers who evoked extraordinary passion in each other, passion that overrode rationality and reason.

When he final y opened his eyes, he was smiling, and Piper quickly fol owed suit, relieved he had enjoyed their lovemaking as much as she had. He kissed a trail across her

shoulder, then whispered, “I could sure go for that tal glass of water now.”

Her laughter resounded in the room and they disentangled themselves.

“Do you have to leave?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“No.”

Her heart and body soared, although after his performance, she certainly didn’t expect an encore. “Okay, then fol ow me.”

He snatched the glasses while she grabbed a handful of their clothes, then he fol owed her to her bedroom. Their bare feet padding against the wooden floor struck Piper as

being so intimate, she would probably never forget the sound. Inside the bedroom, she turned on a lamp.

Ian glanced around the room and pronounced, “Nice.”

She smiled her thanks. Like every room in her house, her bedroom was smal , but bright and uncluttered.

“Oh, I left something in the kitchen.” He set down the glasses, then disappeared.

Piper slowly draped their clothes over the back of a chair, then turned down her bed, wondering if he already regretted their lovemaking. Perhaps he stood in the kitchen now, scrambling to find a graceful exit after he’d had a few minutes to consider their lapse. She walked into the bathroom and took a two-minute shower to rinse the remnants of the sweet sauces from her body. After sorting through her sleepwear, she pul ed on red tap pants and a camisole. But with her hand on the bathroom doorknob, she stopped, worried she looked too expectant. Oh, wel , since she’d broken almost every rule in her grandmother’s manhunting book, she’d have to wing the rest of it, too.

Stil naked, Ian stood draining the glass of water when she walked in.

He glanced at her outfit and frowned. “Oh, I wish you hadn’t done that.”

“You don’t like my pajamas?”

“No, I meant take a shower.”

Confused, she asked, “Why?”

“Because,” he said earnestly, “I forgot the whipped cream.” He raised the can, shook it and walked toward her with a mischievous glint in his eye.

CHAPTER TEN

Don’t fret if it doesn’t work out—there’s more than one man for every woman, else the odds of finding him would be astronomical.

PIPER HAD THE SENSE
that something was terribly wrong even before she opened her eyes. She hovered in a languid, sleepy state, delaying the inevitable moment of ful y waking. A deep groan near her ear ended her semiconscious procrastination, and her eyes fluttered open in the predawn light.

Her body felt hot, sweaty even, and a little sticky under the sheet over her breasts. She lay on her right side, facing the pale wood dresser she had painstakingly refinished over several months. Big, solid pieces of furniture gave her comfort because they made her feel rooted. Trendy, disposable furniture was for flighty people—temporary people who moved around a lot and didn’t get attached to things, like her mother. The two-hundred-fifty pound, intricately carved dresser was going nowhere on a whim. Piper loved waking up every morning and seeing the product of her hard work and stick-to-itiveness.

But not this morning. Because while in front of her sat evidence of long-suffering devotion, behind her lay evidence of subjugation to irrational desires.

Ian’s arm lay loosely around her waist, the dark hair on his thick forearms incongruous against the pale, flowered sheet. His shal ow, uneven breathing told her that he, too, was nearly awake, but not quite. Their bodies touched in a half-dozen intimate places, alarmingly familiar to her now.

The tingle of an itch traveled across her stomach. Too late, she realized her skin was reacting to last night’s chocolate exchange—as if remembering the erotic intimacies

she’d shared with this man was simply not enough to torture her for untold days. She’d never been driven to do anything so uninhibited in al her life. So why would she give herself with such abandon to a virtual stranger who had none of the qualities she’d set out to find—smal -town, dependable,
loyal?

Her gaze darted down to his ring finger, her eyes widening when she saw it was bare. Had he removed the ring out of respect to her, or out of respect to his lover? She gritted her teeth—perhaps he always removed it when he cheated. Remorse flooded over her like a wave of boiling water. How utterly stupid could she be?

A sickening question settled in the pit of her stomach…How many times had her mother faced the sunrise in a similar situation? Piper remembered countless mornings men

had stumbled from their apartment in a state of undress, many of the losers sporting wedding rings. Her stomach turned over—had her father been a married man cheating on his wife with her mother? And even though Ian wasn’t yet married, did that real y make her any better than her mother? She had known his heart was committed elsewhere, and she’d slept with him anyway…Correction—it had gone way beyond sleeping, she reminded herself wryly.

And she stil needed the man’s business.

Mortification surged through her body, suffocating her. Frantic, she pul ed away from him and swung her feet to the floor, ignoring his sleepy protests. The flimsy pajamas she’d worn to bed lay in a heap on the floor, but she bypassed them and strode straight into the bathroom. Without looking back, she closed the door quietly and lifted her long terry-cloth robe from the hook. Despite the temperature and humidity, she shrugged inside. Piper wrapped the sash tightly around her waist and leaned heavily against the door, fighting tears of frustration and regret.

She’d lost her self-respect, and with it probably the best chance she had at being able to make an offer on her grandmother’s house. He’d never take her seriously when it

came to business, not after last night, not after the table—oh, God…She dropped her head in her hands. What if he thought she’d seduced him in order to get his business? And what if he did offer Blythe the contract because of her irresponsible behavior? Then her bonus would be little more than payment for sexual services rendered. A sob rose in her throat, choking her.

“Piper?” A light knock on the door startled her. She straightened and inhaled sharply.

Hastily wiping tears with the heels of her hands, she sniffed and glanced in the mirror, then grabbed the sink for support. She looked like the tousled, sexed, lazy-eyed spitting image of her mother.

“Piper?” He knocked again, this time louder. “Are you okay?”

She couldn’t face him, not yet. She wished she could avoid him indefinitely, but she knew that was unlikely. “Uh, yeah,” she cal ed shakily. “I’m fine. How—how about I meet you at the lab around ten-thirty?”

He was silent for a few seconds, then said, “If that’s what you want.” His voice had changed—was that relief? Or was he irritated she wasn’t up for a morning tussle?

“That’s what I want. B-before this gets more complicated and people are hurt.”
Like me.
She turned on the shower to prevent further conversation.
Coward,
she chastised herself.

But better to be a coward, she told herself, than be doubly foolish. Because as much as she hated to admit it, if she had opened the door and he had opened his arms, she

would have walked into them. Perhaps she could absolve herself someday for fal ing under his influence, late at night with romantic music on the radio and loneliness crowding her heart.

But a meaningless tryst in the wake of morning-after insight would be unforgivable.