These Boots Were Made for Stomping (15 page)

“Micki? I’m coming for you, and I’m not stopping.”

She looked into his eyes, all too aware that her nipples had pebbled and her thighs were trembling and wet. They both knew
where this was going. It didn’t matter how it started, they were headed for bed.

She smiled, and her tongue slipped out to wet her lower lip. His gaze riveted there, and his nostrils flared. “Micki,” he
began, her name a low growl.

In her best Mae West voice she said, “Bring it on, big boy.”

He lunged, she parried, and they fought. Against the wall, on her dresser, over the bed, actually on the wall as she ran around
the room, then out the bedroom door. It rapidly became clear that he was the better fighter. Whereas she had super kung fu
powers, that didn’t make her a smart fighter. He, on the other hand, had equal skills, more body mass, and an awareness of
fighting techniques.

It also became clear that his objective wasn’t to pin her, but to undress her. She lost her blouse over the dresser. He ripped
her skirt in half as she ran into the main living room. Her bra disappeared during a half nelson, but her pan ties remained
firmly in place.

Meanwhile, he managed to quickly divest himself of his shirt and pants without ever once losing the shoe on his hand. Pretty
amazing, actually, given how she would take those moments to pummel him. Knee kicks, face punches, round house whatevers.
She went at him with them all. He parried one-handed or simply took the blows with a grunt. And soon, he was completely naked.

Then he grabbed her around the middle. She had been halfway through a leap over the couch, but he caught her and slammed her
against the wall. She twisted, taking the impact on her shoulder so that she could roll to the other shoulder, then right
out of his grip. But he was prepared.

He spun with her, then toppled them both down to the floor. She gasped in surprise, but his grin was triumphant. And then
he kissed her. He pushed his mouth against hers and invaded in one swift motion. She arched against him, allowing their fight
to continue with teeth and tongues. Here, too, he was the victor, owning her by touching every part of her mouth despite her
best efforts.

And yet she had the distinct feeling he was getting as branded as she. She was nipping and taking and thrusting into him almost
as much as he into her.

He lifted up a bit, taking his weight on his shoed hand, while the other roved all over her body. Face, collar, breast. Oh,
he spent a masterful time on her breasts and nipples. She gasped, shifting her arms to tweak his chest. He pulled back enough
to grin at her. Her legs were already spread wide to cradle him. He was thrusting hard against her wet pan ties, but the fabric
still kept them apart.

“What you going to do now, big boy?” she taunted.

He stretched above her head, his body weight enough—for the moment—to keep her pinned. She was too breathless and aching to
fight him just then. But in a moment . . .

Zzzip.

She looked up. “What did you just do?” She asked the question, but the answer was obvious. “You handcuffed me to my couch?”
Her right wrist was held fast.

He grinned. “That’s not a handcuff,” he answered as he slid back down her body. “That’s the plastic thingie.”

She yanked hard against the thin strip of plastic zipped tight around her wrist and the couch. All she got was a red mark
on her arm. The couch didn’t even wobble. “Plastic thingie?” she taunted. “Is that a cop term?”

“Yup. Very technical.” And then he bit lightly down on her nipple, sending a lightning bolt straight through her brain.

When he lifted his head, she bared her teeth at him. She knew how she looked—nearly naked with one arm stretched above her
head. She looked and felt gloriously wanton. “We still got a problem, big—”

“You gotta stop with that awful ‘big boy’ stuff.”

She arched a brow back at him.

“Call me Joe,” he said. “I want to hear you scream my name when you come.”

“One plastic thingie does not make a screaming orgasm . . . big boy,” she teased.

He smiled, slow and predatory. “A challenge if I ever heard one.”

She was going to say something. Something really clever, but he returned to her nipple. The way he rolled it in his mouth,
then bit down with just the right tension. . . . She closed her eyes and let the lightning roar through her.

While she was still trembling from that, he began kissing down her side. She felt his body move. And though he kept at least
one arm pinning her down, his weight was shifting, rotating, as his teeth grazed the underside of her breast, her side, and
her hip.

She opened her eyes. “What are—?”

He took hold of the side of her pan ties with his teeth and began pulling them down her leg. It was the most erotic sight
she’d ever seen. His teeth, sharp and white, pulling at the thin cotton thong. But most of all, it was the look in his eyes.
As she lifted up enough to see him, she met his gaze. Dark and possessive, yes, but with a hint of mischief. He wanted her
in the most primal way possible, yet that twinkle in his eyes made it seem so human.

She knew it was the shoes that were making them both this deeply sexual. She’d certainly never been so bold on her own. But
that sparkle told her that it was him and her enjoying each other. No mystical compulsion or taint—simply them, having adult
fun.

She lifted her hips to help him slide the last of her clothing off. He dragged the thong all the way down her thighs and off
her feet. Then he began kissing and licking his way back up on the inside of her legs.

She had one free hand, and so she made good use of it. His hips were beside her, his large penis within reach. She began caressing
it, stroking the velvety tip, sliding up the dark thick rod and then cupping his taut sac. He growled deep in his throat as
he nudged her knees apart.

She allowed him to, because she was doing a little shift of her own. Her head went to the inside of his knee, nudging him
farther open. And then her tongue began an exploration of her own. He tasted hot and salty. He smelled of musk. And he
was
going to submit to her.

It took very little leverage to topple him to his side. But as he fell, he took her with him. She felt him knock the shoe
off his hand as he gripped both of her thighs. And then he spread her and took her into his mouth just as she was drawing
him inside her.

His tongue was wicked as he licked her. Every inch got his loving attention. And when he pressed a thick thumb inside her,
she began bucking. She couldn’t stop herself. God, she wanted this so badly.

She wasn’t ignoring him as she sucked and licked for all she was worth, but all too soon, she couldn’t concentrate. His hips
began to move, picking up his rhythm as he plunged fingers inside her. She held on as best she could, pleasuring him while
his tongue began to stroke the center of all her sensation.

She felt his belly tense, knew his buttocks tightened, and then he abruptly pulled away. She didn’t have the angle to stop
him. “Wait,” she gasped.

“Not until you scream my name,” he said. Then he applied himself with a vengeance. She made futile attempts to draw him back,
but there was no power left in her body. It was all centered where he was stroking with long pulls of his tongue.

She tried to resist. She tried to maintain some semblance of control. But every stroke of his tongue seemed to pull her mind
from her body. Pleasure built beneath his mouth. It grew and expanded, taking her belly and spine with it. And then, he sucked.
One long pull and her brain became engulfed in wave after explosive wave.

She screamed. She probably screamed his name, but didn’t even know. Bliss!

Eons later, she opened her eyes. Her arm had just flopped free of the couch as she lay completely boneless on the floor. Forcing
her eyes open, she watched Joe easily set the heavy couch off to the side.

She smiled. Or rather, she kept smiling, even as her gaze fastened on his erection. “Did I scream your name?” she asked.

He settled beside her with a grin. “Yes.”

She reached out idly to stroke his thigh, her strength returning with amazing speed. She pushed her hand higher up his body.
“Got any condoms?”

He shook his head with a sigh.

“No problem,” she said, slowly levering up on her knees, then abruptly shoving him backward. “I think there’s still something
we can figure out.”

“It’s going to take a lot for me to scream your name,” he warned.

“I want my full name, big boy. Michaela.”

He arched a brow in challenge.

Leaning down, she made a long, slow sweep of her tongue. “But you don’t have to scream it,” she added. “Begging is just fine.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Morning came too early. Nevertheless, Joe dutifully opened his eyes only to see a white eyelet ruffle from a pillowcase that
was not his own. Memories brought a smile, and his returning senses gave him her smell on her sheets and the sound of humming
from her shower.

Clearly, she was one of those early risers. He grinned. Today he was prepared to forgive such unnatural behavior. He climbed
out of bed and began his morning routine of exercises. He was stiffer than usual—a lot stiffer—but he didn’t mind one bit
as he started working the aches out. He finished a set of deep squats, then dropped to the floor to begin his push-ups.

That’s when he saw it: one black shoe. It was the one he’d worn on his hand, the one with the Chinese character for love stitched
in red on the top.

He wasn’t a man who accepted magic in his world. Not even the normal heart-fluttering, stars-in-the-eyes love kind. He’d long
since categorized that as lust and chemistry causing a brain aneurism or something. But last night had proved him wrong—on
both counts. What had happened with Micki hadn’t been just lust. Maybe not love, but certainly more than simple lust. And
as for the sudden kung fu power? He had no answer, so he started doing his push-ups instead, glaring at the simple black velvet
shoe all the while.

He was only halfway through his routine when she came out of the bathroom. He glanced up and was immediately distracted enough
to blow off the rest of his workout. Pink skin barely covered by a towel, sparkling blue eyes, a shimmering fall of freshly
blow-dried hair, and best of all, moist lips curving upward in a shy smile.

“Now that’s a sight to wake a man,” he said.

She blushed all the way down to her towel. “Good morning, Joe,” she said. Her tone was breathless and anxious, but she was
smiling. He was smiling. And he was getting harder by the second.

Then her phone went off: a steady cascade of tones that sounded more like an alarm than a ringtone. She gasped and dashed
to her dresser, her naked legs passing almost within touching distance. She grabbed her phone and thumbed it off.

“That’s the alarm,” she said breathlessly. “I have to leave for school in ten minutes.”

He frowned, wondered what time it was, then immediately decided he didn’t care. “Take the day off. Call in sick.”

She shook her head. “It’s too late.”

“No, it’s—”

“I don’t
want
to.” She looked up long enough to meet his gaze. “I want to go to work today.”

He understood the underlying message, at least in part. She wasn’t a woman who did one-night stands, and so this morning after
left her feeling awkward and embarrassed. He could sympathize. And if it were just that, then he would happily let her run
off to school where she could think and talk and do whatever women did when they were deciding about a relationship.

But it wasn’t just about them. “We have to talk about those shoes,” he said.

She swallowed, then squared her shoulders. Her smile had long since faded, and now she looked determined as she stepped past
him and quietly slipped one on. “We’re not going to discuss it. They’re mine. I don’t know if they’re possessed or what, but
they’re mine. I’m not giving them up.”

He slowly stood to his full height, not caring that he was completely naked and aroused. “I never said I wanted them.”

She lifted her chin. “Yes, you did. Last night. You said—”

“That they were cool. And they are. And they’re also . . . magical.” He almost choked on the word, but he got it out. “You
don’t know anything about them except what they let you do. Don’t you think we should study them a bit first before you use
them any more?” He used the word “we” deliberately. For better or worse, he was involved in this . . . magic. No way was he
going to let her pursue this alone. “They could be dangerous.”

She leaned down and buckled the shoe on, and the view of her nicely rounded tush distracted him more than he wanted. “They
don’t feel dangerous,” she said.

“Not every dangerous thing does.”

She straightened, looking a little silly dressed in a towel and one shoe. And yet, he was never further from laughing in his
entire life. “Listen to me, Joe, because I don’t know if I can say it twice. I like you. I always have, from the very beginning.
Last night was . . .” Her face softened into a dreamy smile. “It was the best. But we both know that it’s not me you like.”

He frowned, working hard to think of the best way through her female logic. He decided to simply go for brutal honesty. “We’re
talking about the shoes, not us.”

“But it is us, too. I’ve noticed you from the beginning, but you’ve always gone for the . . .” She waved her hands in front
of her breasts. “For
other
types. You dismissed me by the end of the first day.”

Actually, within the first five minutes, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “I noticed you,” he countered. “I just thought
you had your hands full.”

“I did. I do,” she agreed with a sigh. “And these shoes are one more complication. But see, that’s my point. If it weren’t
for the kung fu powers, you would never have noticed me. You wouldn’t be here. And I would never have . . .” She blushed and
looked away.

He stepped forward, but didn’t dare touch her. The way she looked right then, she would probably bolt. “You wouldn’t have
what?”

“Seduced you.”

He felt his shoulders stiffen. “You think last night . . .” How to phrase this? “You think what we did last night was because
of those shoes?” He took a step forward. “Micki, we weren’t wearing those shoes for most of it.”

She lifted her chin. “But we were at the beginning. At the start.”

“So?”

She threw up her hands. “So, nothing! So, I’m not a slut. I don’t seduce men like that—”

“I never said you were!”

“But you’d never go to bed with me unless something made you.”

He blinked, wondering for a moment if she was serious. Obviously she was. “That’s total bullshit! Of course I would!” Skittish
be damned; he was across the room and grabbing her arms before she could run. “You can’t seriously believe that I wouldn’t—”

“Well, of course you would. If I were just a stranger or something. But I’m a coworker.”

He stared at her, feeling the insult all the way to his bones. “You honestly think I sleep with anything with tits?”

She nodded, though her eyes were obviously big with fear. “Big ones! Who you don’t work with!”

“That’s ridiculous!” he exploded.

“That’s what I’m saying! This whole thing is ridiculous. It wasn’t real!”

“It sure as hell was!” He was gripping her arms too tight. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself. She obviously thought
he was some awful player.

He abruptly released her, stomping away to grab his clothing. “Micki, you obviously don’t know me at all.”

She didn’t answer at first. She was silent so long that he had to glance over his shoulder to see her standing still in her
towel, her face as white as her eyelet pillowcase. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say,” she finally whispered. “We don’t
really know each other at all.” She glanced down at her feet. “It was all fake.”

Then she abruptly turned and grabbed some clothes out of her dresser. He tried to think of something to say. There had to
be words to make her see reason. But he couldn’t find them. Truthfully, some tiny piece of him did wonder if last night’s
amazing sexual explorations had been shoe-induced. So he remained silent as she gathered up the last of her clothes and ducked
into the bathroom. The last thing he saw her do was brush the hair out of her face. Except, of course, he knew it wasn’t really
hair but tears.

With an abrupt curse, he stomped out of the room, threw on his clothes, and then just kept going. Thankfully, he didn’t live
that far away, and the run would do him good.

The roses arrived during fourth period. Micki had time to smile, bury her nose in the blooms, and then glance at the card.
Three words, no signature:
It was real.
From Joe, of course. And a lie if there ever was one. So, blinking away the tears, she returned her attention to her class.

She saw him at lunch, but ducked away. He followed, of course, and almost had her in her classroom. But then his radio went
off—disturbance in the cafeteria—and he had to go. He left with a muttered curse, but not before he sent her a look that practically
screamed determination.

During fifth hour, he sent one of her students to her classroom with a sealed note. It read:
Dinner tonight.
The boy who delivered it stood in the classroom door fidgeting. When she asked why, he simply shrugged and said, “Mr. DeLuce
said you’d have an answer.”

Micki’s heart beat triple-time, but she held back her
yesyesyesyesyes!
In the end she used her most professional voice as she said, “Mr. DeLuce was incorrect. You may go now.”

During sixth hour, another note read:
Don’t make me arrest
you.

Then during seventh hour:
I can’t wait until dinner. Coffee
right after school.

Then, finally, during last hour, a single sheet of notebook paper arrived. On it was one word:
Please.

She ignored them all. Sure, she’d started looking at every student who walked into her room, hoping to see another note. Yes,
she’d gotten a thrill deep down inside when a note did magically appear. But most of all, she’d started to feel cornered.

Clearly, Joe was not a man to back off when he set his sights on something . . . or someone. He’d been right when he said
that she was in over her head at school. She was. Add in magical shoes and a handsome cop, and she just wanted to hide under
her bed.

But she couldn’t do that. She had a job and kids to teach. Most especially, she had a young girl—Lucy—to talk some sense into.
And she had to do it fast before Damian destroyed her.

The final bell rang. Just like yesterday, kids scrambled out of their seats and headed for the door. Just like yesterday,
Micki smiled at them but focused on her target. “Lucy, could we talk for a moment, please?”

The girl nodded, reluctantly, but remained, though her gaze kept wandering anxiously to the classroom door where yesterday
Damian had appeared and ruined everything. So, Micki grabbed her purse. “I need some air. Let’s step outside and talk.”

She didn’t even let the girl stop by her locker. She was too afraid that Damian would show up. Instead, she steered the girl
through the busy teachers’ lounge, then beyond to the employee parking lot and a cozy alcove between the Dumpster and a rather
stately-looking elm. There were a couple of folding chairs set up beneath the tree, and Micki gestured to Lucy to take a seat.

“Um, I gotta get home, Miss Becker.”

“No, we gotta talk, Lucy. About Damian.”

The girl’s eyes widened, and her head started shaking back and forth. “Miss Becker, you don’t know nothing ’bout—”

“Come on, Lucy.” She took a deep breath and decided to go for broke. She just didn’t have the time or patience for subtlety.
“You’re a smart girl. A really smart girl. I can easily see you going to college. You could have such a bright future. God,
Lucy, you have no idea how really talented you are.”

Lucy’s chin lifted, and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Micki could tell that the girl hadn’t expected that. And worse,
she certainly hadn’t ever heard it before.

“That ain’t possible for me,” she whispered. “It just ain’t.”

“Of course it is. And I could help you. There are foundations, scholarships, opportunities for kids like you—especially if
a teacher really takes an interest. I could sponsor you, make recommendations. You could have a great future.” Micki reached
out and touched the girl’s hands. Lucy did not pull away. Progress. Micki decided to push it a bit further.

“But none of that is possible if you get in trouble. One arrest, one bad choice, and it will all disappear, and I won’t be
able to change that. That’s the reality of the world. There just aren’t a lot of second chances.”

The girl looked down at their hands. “You’re talking about Damian,” she mumbled.

Micki nodded, knowing it was now or never. “Why are you with that boy? He beats up people. He runs a gang. God only knows
what else he’s doing, but you can be damn sure it’s illegal and dangerous. You can’t afford to get caught up in what he’s
doing.”

Lucy looked up, but not at Micki. Her gaze traveled out beyond the parking lot to God only knew where. “He was my brother’s
best friend,” she whispered.

“And didn’t he get your brother addicted? I mean, I don’t know about you, but I might blame Damian for what happened with
your brother. The drugs, shooting Joe . . .” Micki’s voice wavered on those last words. “I mean, shooting Mr. DeLuce.” She
leaned forward. “I want to understand, Lucy. Please tell me the good things about that boy. Tell me what you see in him.”

Lucy just shook her head. “He likes me because I’m good at chemistry. I understand a lot of stuff. Mr. Gorzinsky’s even given
me a college text to study.”