Thick as Thieves(75)

“Actions speak louder than words.”

Holding her gaze, he slipped his left hand beneath the hem of her top, pressed his palm against her midriff, then moved it up to squeeze her breast and keep it plumped above the cup of her bra while lowering his head to nuzzle her.

He rubbed his face against those tantalizing breasts that for days—seemed like a lifetime—he had wanted to put his mouth to. His tongue dabbed at her nipple through her clothes.

She sighed his name. Her grip on his hair became tighter.

His mouth returned to hers while his thumb took up the brushing caresses that caused little catches in her breath. His mouth had left damp patches on her top like stamps of possession. They stirred the male in him to claim more.

He slid his hand from her breast to her waist, then between her thighs. Her slight, undulating shift in position granted permission and access. He pressed, stroked. She murmured something unintelligible, but whatever she said had desire behind it. She wanted to be felt, deep.

Her pants were made of stretchy denim that fit her like a second skin. Earlier he’d appreciated how the things molded to her incredible ass, but now he was frustrated by their tight fit. “How do I get into these?”

“Here, let me—”

The jangle of a cell phone froze them.

It rang a second time. “Mine’s on vibrate,” he said. “Must be yours.”

Appearing as frustrated as he, her head flopped back against the seat. “It’s in the outside pocket of my purse. Can you see who it is?”

He fumbled around on the floorboard until he located her purse, the outside pocket, her phone. He brought it up to where he could see it and, just as the phone stopped ringing, he read the caller’s name.

He eased himself back across the console and resumed his place in the driver’s seat. As she struggled to sit up straight, he extended the phone to her. “Somebody named Jacob.”

“Oh.” She held his gaze for several seconds, then reached for her phone and turned to face the windshield. “I’ll call him later.”

Seething, Ledge turned on the ignition and put the truck in gear.



“That sounds like Ledge’s truck.” Crystal picked up the TV remote and turned down the volume. “He must be returning Arden to her car.”

Marty left the sofa and went over to one of the front windows.

“Don’t spy on them,” Crystal said. “They’re not teenagers.”

“I’m not spying. Just taking a peek.” Marty raised one of the louvers of the blinds. “Yep, it’s his monster truck. She’s getting out on her own.” Looking over her shoulder at Crystal, she reported, “No good night kiss.”

“Hmm. I’m disappointed. I thought for sure there were banked fires smoldering.”

“In the half minute that I was with them, I got that impression, too. Maybe they kissed in the truck. Maybe they did more than kiss, and a kiss would be anticlimactic. So to speak.”

“But it’s not like Ledge to—”

Marty interrupted her. “What the…?”

“What?”

“Crystal?”

“What’s the matter?”

“Oh, my God.”

Responding to the sudden alarm in Marty’s tone, Crystal bounded off the sofa, and rushed to join her at the window. “What is it?”

“Are those dogs?”



They had covered the two blocks to Crystal’s house without Arden offering a word of explanation, from which Ledge inferred that Jacob couldn’t be identified with nonchalance, such as that he was the octogenarian who’d lived across the street from her in Houston, or her first cousin, or her best friend’s adolescent son hawking tickets for a fund-raising raffle.

By the time he pulled up behind her car, he was steaming. He put the truck in park but left it running, draped his wrists over the top of the steering wheel, and stared out the windshield, being a jerk and knowing it, but he was a guy with a three-day-old hard-on and he was fuck-all furious.

He said, “Jacob?”

“Is none of your concern.”

“No?” He turned his head to look at her. “My stiff dick would disagree. It wishes we’d stuck to fighting.”

She shot him a drop-dead look as she opened the door of the truck. She shut it with force and rounded the hood. The headlights spotlighted her as she dug into her purse, probably searching for her key fob.

Catching motion out the corner of his left eye, he turned his head. Two shadowy figures came streaking across the lawn across the street, a third not far behind.

He registered almost immediately what they were, what they signified, and, shoving open the driver’s door, he burst out of it, yelling, “Arden, get back in the truck. Get in the truck!”

He’d telegraphed his panic, because she stopped in her tracks and looked toward him, but she was blinded by the headlights. She raised her hand to shield her eyes just as one of the dogs took a flying leap at him.

He jumped backward onto the hood and jerked his legs up in the nick of time. The dog hit the side panel with a loud thump and enough momentum to rock the vehicle.

Arden screamed.

“Go around, go around. Get in the truck!” Ledge crab-walked across the hood to the front of it, then jumped down. He grabbed Arden’s hand, yanking hard, placing her behind him as another of the animals charged. Ledge kicked at it.