Fat Tuesday(117)

What had startled her out of sleep? A sound? A menacing movement in the darkness? A premonition of danger?

She strained to hear a sound, but there was nothing. Had she been awakened by the vibration of a boat bumping into one of the pilings supporting the pier?

Was she just going to lie here and pretend to be invisible as she had in her corner of Angel's sordid world? She was no longer a child.

She had declared to Basile that she would never be a victim again.

What or who could be more threatening than the man she'd lived with for twelve years? She had withstood Pinkie's cruel psychological abuse, she could withstand anything.

Slipping out of bed, she crept across the room and located a kitchen knife. It was dull, but it was the closest thing she had to a weapon since Basile had taken his pistol. As an afterthought, she also grabbed the lantern and a matchbook, then she moved to the nearest window and peeped out.

She saw a form, nothing more than a darker shadow among shadows, tiptoeing along the pier. Once, he paused as though listening, then continued moving silently toward the shack.

Remy sank to the floor and gripped the knife. She wondered exactly how one went about using a Coleman lantern as a weapon.

When the door's rusty hinges creaked, the intruder hesitated before pulling it open only wide enough for him to slip inside. He eased it closed behind him.

"Remy?"

Her heart nearly burst with relief."Burke?"

She shot to her feet and ran toward him, but drew up short when she saw the gun in his hand.

Burke was so relieved to see her unharmed, he was on the verge of grabbing her and clutching her to him when he spotted a knife in one hand and the lantern in the other.

He hadn't used the boat motor for the last mile or so, knowing how far sound carries over water. He hadn't wanted to lead the people looking for him into this hidden slough. Struggling like hell to get back, it hadn't occurred to him that Remy herself might pose a threat But the knife clattered to the floor and she set the lantern and a book of matches on the table. He engaged the safety on the pistol and set it beside the lantern. Then they faced each other. He spoke first."Are you all right?" She nodded vigorously."Frightened."

"Of what?"

"I didn't know who you were at first."

"I was afraid you might not be here."

"Where would I go? Why were you sneaking up "

"To avoid being captured."

"Captured?"

"There's a manhunt on for me."

"Why?"

"It's a long story."

"You're sweating."

"I've been rowing."

"Oh." Again they just stood there looking at each other across the darkness. Then she said, "You were away so long."

"I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't get back."

"It's okay, I just "

"It couldn't be helped. If "

"What happened?"

"Did anyone come here?"

"No."

"Have you seen anyone?"

"Not all day. I've been frantic."

"With fear?" Worry."

"Worry?"

"That something had happened to you." The space separating them narrowed. Later, he didn't recall con Her lips moving against his skin, she said, "I was afraid you wouldn't come back for me."

"Nothing could have stopped me from coming back."

"I didn't know."

"You knew, Remy."

"How was I to know?"

"Because I promised you I would."

With that, his lips searched blindly for hers. He kissed her hard, crushing her mouth first at one angle, then another, and yet another.

He was awkward, clumsy even. But ravenous men eat gracelessly.

He kissed her hungrily, not with finesse. Tasting her for the first time, a low moan rose out of his chest, partially from gratification, partially from heightened want.

Eventually, he pulled back, pushed his fingers through her hair, tilted her head back and looked down into her face to see if he had mistaken her response. But in her expression he read the same wonder and confusion he was feeling.

Shyly, she reached up and touched his mouth with her fingertips.

Burke closed his eyes and swayed toward her. He dipped his knees slightly, fitting himself into the notch of her thighs.

His hands moved to her hips and held her firmly against him. Her hand, now resting lightly on his hair, guided his head down to her and they kissed again with more passion and less restraint than before.

He stumbled backward toward the bed, dragging her with him, until the backs of his legs touched the mattress. He sat down, spread his knees, and pulled her between them. Impatiently he peeled the sweatshirt over her head. The sweatpants were pushed to the floor for her to step out of. First his eyes, then his hands moved over her shoulders, breasts, waist, hips, thighs touching as much of her as he could as quickly as he could.

Then he rested his hot cheek against her belly, and her arms enfolded his head.

He caressed the backs of her calves and thighs. He squeezed her ass.

He kissed her V through her panties, then nuzzled her with chin and nose and brow in a rubbing motion that felt like loving.

He placed her on the bed, stretched out beside her, and slipped his arm around her unconsciously reaching for her. He didn't remember placing his hand inside the front of her underpants. Springy hair curled around around her. It happened without forethought. One second he washis fingers.