Murder Takes the High Road(42)

I’m too old to blush, but there’s something undeniably warming about flattery. I studied his face. Yeah, I did find him attractive. No question. I liked him. I wasn’t sure if I trusted him, but I didn’t have to trust him. This was the equivalent of a summer romance. Minus the romance.

I flipped the lock on our door, and said, “That was last night.”

*

“I can taste your smile,” John whispered, and I opened to his kiss.

Once upon a time, when I was a library science grad student, I had sex with a fellow student on a library table in the special collections room at UCLA. Until I was sitting half naked on the ice-cold radiator in a hotel room at the Ben Wyvis Manor House Hotel—with John Knight’s hot tongue pushing against my own—that after-hours library fuck was pretty much my sole claim to sexual adventure. Not that I wouldn’t have been open to a little more experimentation, but Trevor was surprisingly conservative when it came to sex. Or at least the sex act. He preferred a firm mattress, no lights and preassigned roles.

I just liked having sex—and as often as possible—so it wasn’t like I objected, but it made a nice change to be taken off-guard with a flattering show of energy and enthusiasm. John backed me into the wall like he was afraid I might change my mind, and when the radiator got in the way, he lifted me onto it with a casually impressive show of upper body strength.

Sex was never a laughing matter with Trevor, but I was laughing when John kissed me the first time, and still smiling when he touched his mouth a second lingering time to mine. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss him. So natural that I wondered if it hadn’t been in the back of my mind from that first night. When the hard, slick press of his tongue met mine, I felt excited sensation zip up and down my spine.

“Zing,” I breathed, and John huffed a sound of amusement.

He was leaning into the V of my legs, and I could feel his erection—and knew he could feel mine.

“This is the craziest timing.” He sounded rueful.

“I know,” I said.

He pulled back, gazing into my eyes. He seemed about to say something, but then changed his mind—and I was glad of that because I didn’t want conversation, didn’t want to think at all.

Our mouths latched on again and John’s arms locked around me. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, instinctively hooking my knee over his hip. I arched into him—not a move I’d ever made before, and when he hoisted me up, I had a moment’s alarm we would crash into the wall or topple over. But no. We clutched each other, hips moving in awkward, desperate rhythm.

“My God. All these clothes,” I got out. “We should try this in the summer.”

John gasped out a laugh, and we somehow half fell, half sidestepped to the nearest twin bed. It was more crash landing than a skilled maneuver. John landed half on top. My breath whooshed out with a sound like someone stepping on a set of bagpipes.

“I like you, Carter,” he said. “A lot.”

“I like you too. Even if you did just puncture my lung.”

He laughed and kissed me. “I didn’t plan on this.”

“Well, no. Me neither,” I said.

“But I think it’s a great idea.”

That, of course, struck me as funny, and he kissed me again and said, almost wonderingly, “It feels so right with you.”

It felt right to me too. Maybe that meant something. Maybe it just meant we were both horny at the same time. I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to know. Was afraid to know, really.

His boots thumped as they hit the floorboards. I pulled my sweater over my head, and heard his belt buckle knock wood. He was out of his jeans and undoing the buttons of his shirt as I dragged my T-shirt off. I slipped off my tennis shoes, humped out of my Levi’s and shorts, dropping them over the side of the bed. John landed beside me once more, and the narrow bed creaked in warning.

“It just occurred to me. Did you...?” He paused delicately.

“Did I what? Remember to put the cat out?” It took me a moment to decipher the earnestness of his expression. “Oh. Bring protection? Yeah. I did.”

His smile was wry. “Of course. Hope on, hope ever.”

That gave me pause. “If you mean was I hoping that I’d be doing this with Trevor, no. I wasn’t.”

John shrugged. “Whatever you hoped, it’s me here now.”

No lie.

Maybe, just maybe, in a weak moment I had thought to be prepared for every eventuality. Just in case, right? But that would have been a very weak moment—and a very long time ago. We might only have been touring for a couple of days, but my emotions had traveled light-years since I’d arrived in Scotland. I could no longer picture any scenario where I ended up in bed with Trevor—let alone one which included laughter and playful kisses.

Even if I had been that feeble, John was second best to nobody. I realized that in the first five seconds.

He caressed me quietly, gaze serious, lips gentle as he brushed the final amused quiver from my own.

“Do you know what you want?” he asked softly. His eyes looked almost golden in the time-worn lamplight, his firm mouth had an almost tender curve. His touch was all knowing. I’d forgotten what a light and joyful thing sex could be when no one was keeping score.

“A little of this, a little of that.” I was out of the habit of asking, let alone receiving.