Baddest Bad Boys(20)

Julia stared at the green square of paper. She was trembling.

Robin? Was it possible? The name of the girl in that photograph—she assumed she was Daniel MacNamara’s sister—had a name that evoked William’s avocation? Their whole life’s work? Robin. Incredible.

The robin’s egg had been Julia’s idea. She’d been so honored when William had adopted it. It symbolized the cosmic potential inside each girl. The color invoked both the blue of the sky and William’s piercing blue eyes. The ovoid delicacy, the smallness, the femininity, symbolized the care they took with each soul they taught to fly.

Robin. It was a sign. She looked young, too. William had liked them young. They’d done most of their hunting at college campuses.

Julia closed her eyes. William’s smile of approval shone. She basked in it. And abruptly, his smile faded, and he made a gesture that said, And? Enough self-congratulation. She jolted into action, tucked the photos into her purse. The envelope had a letterhead that read Crowne Royale Group, with a Seattle address. That, too, she put in her purse.

She was closing the front door behind her when the door of the other duplex popped open, emitting a fragrance of vanilla.

It was an old lady, shriveled and bent, dressed in an oversized pink cardigan trimmed with yarn pompom balls. She peered through glasses that grotesquely enlarged her watery, colorless eyes. “Are you Joanna?” she demanded, in the strident tones of the partially deaf.

Julia opened her mouth, but the old lady barged on. “Jonny told me you’d be coming from Social Services to help me sort my medicines. Usually Jonny does it for me, but he’s gone off fishing, so he got me a girl to come. So you’re the girl? You’re this Joanna?”

Julia smiled. “Why, ah, yes. I am Joanna. I’m so sorry, but when Jon told me your name, I forgot to write it down in my notes. Mrs.—?”

“Oh, call me Molly. Come on in, and have some lemon cookies.”

Julia followed the wizened crone into her stuffy, crowded lair.

“Thank you. I love lemon cookies,” she purred.

Robin felt so warm. Deliciously warm, curled up in a hot embrace and someone was stroking her hair, too. Slow, feather-light strokes. As she became aware of them, each gentle touch made tender, tickling warmth pulse under the surface of her skin.

Mmm. She didn’t want to wake up. She drank it up, like a kitten lapping cream. But she was drifting up to consciousness, bracing herself for that moment when it all melted away, leaving her alone.

Her eyes fluttered open, and met Jon’s. Bright blue chips of clear August sky. Shock, followed by a thrill of delight, and then pleasure racing and tingling and throbbing here and there, in strategic points of her body and then all points in between. It was real. He was real.

Omigod. This had really, truly, honest-to-God happened.

It had been more intense than she’d imagined. Well worth the effort it had taken to wrangle that guy into submission.

Although one could hardly characterize his exploits last night as submissive. She pressed her thighs together, biting her lip at the glow, the soreness. She remembered it like a crazy fever dream. Like being caught in the heart of a raging storm. Like being possessed by a god.

Jon stared into her face. The look in his eyes was so unguarded, it hurt her heart. Tears welled up. She wiped them away, smiled shakily. The knot in her throat shriveled up all possibility of speech.

Her feelings for him were plastered all over her face, like posters on a billboard. He’d said, virgins always fall in love with you when you f*ck them, if you do it right. Well, he’d done it right, by God. She would never be the same again. And she thought she had it bad before.

Her girlish imaginings had been pale and thin compared to the lusty reality of his big body against hers, his huge penis, his rampaging sexual style. She was starting to squirm just thinking about it.

Her face was getting hot, but she couldn’t look away. He looked like he was silently asking for something, but the plea was locked inside him, behind thick soundproof walls, clamoring to get out.

But she could hear him, loud and clear. From inside her heart.

She snuggled closer to him, until their noses almost touched, and lost herself in those bright eyes, the black curling eyelashes. His beard had grown out to a sexy, stubbly shadow that brought into focus the sculpted planes and angles of his jaw. That mouth, that knew no limits.

So close to hers. It happened slowly, so gradually, with no clear act of volition on anyone’s part, a seamless, inevitable melding. One minute they were gazing, the next, they were kissing as if they’d always been kissing, as if they would never be able to stop.

The sweetest, loveliest kiss. She was a flower opening, aching to give him all the nectar she had, with perfect trust. Their lips met, explored, nibbled and plucked and stroked. His tongue touched hers, and molten delight shot down, shimmering in her nipples, blooming between her thighs, making her knees tingle, her toes curl.

He put his hand between her legs, slipping his fingers inside, and his low growl vibrated through her body when he found her wet.

One dizzy, disoriented movement, and he’d rolled heavily on top of her, shoving her legs wide. He lodged himself against her, and started squeezing that big, rock-hard phallus into her body. She was still sore from last night’s adventures, yet the whimpers that jerked out of her with each deep shove were cries of pleasure.

He stopped when he was as deep as he could go. She could feel his heartbeat, throbbing inside her at the mouth of her womb, pressing all those lovely areas that just loved to be pressed.