Best Kept Secrets(61)
"Well, if you're so interested in how I kiss, maybe you
should experience it firsthand."
He pushed his hands inside her coat and linked them together
at the small of her back. Giving a swift yank, he pulled
her to her feet. She caught herself against his chest, gasping
soundlessly before he bent his head down low and covered
her lips with his.
At first she was so stunned she didn't move. When she
realized what was happening, she placed both her fists firmly
against his chest. She tried to turn her head aside, but he
trapped her jaw in one hand and held it still. His lips expertly
rubbed hers apart, then he thrust his tongue between them.
He kissed her thoroughly, sweeping her mouth with his
tongue and making stabbing motions toward the back of her
throat. His lips were chapped. She felt their roughness against
hers as well as the thrilling contrast of their sleek lining.
She might have uttered a small whimper of surprise and
need. Her body might have become pliant enough to conform
to his. He might have made a low, hungry, growling sound
deep in his throat. Then again, she might have imagined it
all.
But she didn't imagine the feathering sensation between
her thighs, or the tingling in her breasts, or the heat spreading
through her middle like melting butter. She didn't mistake
the rare and wonderful taste of his mouth, or the scent of
wind and sunlight that clung to his hair and clothing.
He raised his head and looked into her dazed eyes. His
own mirrored her bewilderment. But the smile that lifted one
corner of his mouth was sardonic. "Just so you don't feel
cheated," he murmured.
He pecked a series of soft, quick kisses across her damp
lips, then ran his tongue over them lightly and teasingly. He
probed the corner of her lips with the tip of his tongue, and
the suggestive caress caused a ribbon of sensation in her belly
to slowly uncurl.
Then he sealed his open mouth upon hers again. His tongue
sank into it, as invasive as her response was involuntary. He
stroked her mouth with deeply satisfying leisure while his
hands moved over her back, then up her sides to her breasts.
He rubbed them softly with the heels of his hands, creating
a hunger inside her for him to touch their crests.
Instead, he slid his hands down to her bottom, cupped it,
and tilted her hips forward against his. He matched the motions
of his tongue with his hips, an ebb and flow that whetted
her appetite for fulfillment and eroded her resistance.
Before she could submit to the delicious weakness stealing
through her, he abruptly released her. His face still close, he
whispered, "Curious to know what I usually do next?"
Alex stepped back, mortified over how close she had come
to total capitulation. She wiped his kiss off her lips with the
back of her hand. He merely smirked. "No, I didn't think
so."
He put on his sunglasses and hat, giving the brim a tug
that pulled it low over his eyes. "From now on, Counselor,
I suggest you save your cross-examination for the courtroom.
It's much safer."
The Derrick Lounge was far worse than the Last Chance.
Alex approached it from the south, so when she rounded the
corner of the building and saw a battered, rusty, red pickup
parked there, she breathed a sigh of relief. She'd already
made up her mind that if the eyewitness wasn't there, she
wasn't going to hang around waiting on him.
When she had left the Westerner Motel, she'd made certain
she wasn't followed. She felt ridiculous playing such cat-and-mouse
games, but she was willing to go to any lengths
to speak to this man who claimed to be an eyewitness to her
mother's murder. If this meeting produced nothing but a
telephone prankster looking for new thrills, it would be the
crowning touch to a perfectly horrible day.
The longest horseback ride in history had been the one
she'd made with Reede back to the practice track where she'd
left her car. "Have a nice day," he had called mockingly
after she slid from the saddle.
"Go to hell," had been her angry response. As he wheeled
his horse around, she could hear him chuckling.
"Arrogant bastard," she whispered to herself now as she
got out of her car and moved toward the pickup. She could
see the driver sitting behind the steering wheel, and although
she was glad he had shown up, she wondered how she would
feel if he cited Reede as the man who had killed her mother.
It was a disquieting possibility.
She went around the hood of the truck, her shoes crunching
noisily in the loose gravel. The Derrick Lounge hadn't
spent any money on outdoor lighting, so it was dark at
the side of the building. No other vehicles were parked
nearby.
Alex entertained a moment's trepidation as she reached for