Page 124 of Shame the Devil

A frozen moment, and he was downstairs again, checking the garage. Her car was still there, and the relief filled him. She hadn’t driven off to who-knows-where, determined to save her pride, to go it alone in some moldy apartment in a terrible neighborhood, because she was trying to save money for the baby, for Dyma, for her grandfather, for everybody except herself.

It wasn’t that he wouldn’t have gone after her, because you bet he’d have gone after her. But he couldn’t stand to think of her driving, wiping the tears from her eyes, knowing he’d let her down again.

But wait. If the car wasn’t gone …

That surge of near-panic again, and he was taking the steps fast. No knocking this time. He went inside.

Nobody in the living room or the kitchen, and both bedrooms were empty, too.

The bathroom door was nearly closed, and he heard something from behind there. A mechanical noise. He knocked once, and then he opened the door.

Whatever she was doing, whatever she was feeling, he needed to know. He needed to tell her what he was feeling, too, even if he didn’t know himself. He needed to try. It was time to drop the masks and tell the truth.

The second he opened the door, though, she jumped so hard, she nearly dropped the hairdryer into the sink. “Why do you alwaysdothat?” she asked, once she’d switched it off.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. You didn’t answer when I knocked, and I got worried.”

“Good thing you showed up. I was just about to fill the tub, drop the hairdryer in, and end it all. I was just hoping to be a beautiful corpse. I meant it, Harlan. I’m fine.”

“Could you just … not?”

“What? Oh. Sorry. That was insensitive. Your mom, I mean.”

He wasn’t listening, because he’d taken another step and taken her in his arms. The air was still steamy and fragrant from her shower, and those strawberry-blonde curls were still damp. Her skin was soft and fragrant, and she was wearing the robe he’d bought her, the silky cotton one, pink and lace and innocent. It wasn’t closed, though. Underneath it, she was wearing something he’d watched her pick out online. A plunging black bra that showed off her breasts and pale skin like nothing you could imagine. It had double straps in the back that made a sort of triangle, he happened to know, and came with something called a “Brazilian bikini” that was cut high on her ass and had an extra strap in back, too, apparently for no other reason than that all those straps were sexy as hell. Just like anything else called “Brazilian.”

She’d asked his opinion on it. That had been his worst moment. “Is it ridiculous that I want this?” she’d asked, with the cursor hovering over the set. “Eighty bucks for the bra and panty. That’s a lot. So sexy, though.”

“Nope,” he’d said, as casually as he could manage. “Get the bra with the little straps in front, too.” The straps were above the cups, leaving a strip of skin in between, and the cups had a magnetic closure, the site said.

A closure meant you could open them.

For nursing. For nursing. He needed to focus here.

“Black or white?” she’d asked.

“Oh, black. And get two of that, uh, Brazilian thing. Or more. In fact, you can just buy anything off this website. That little black nightgown with the tiny polka dots, for example. Buy that.”

“You’ve got a thing about black,” she’d said.

No,he’d wanted to say.I have a thing aboutyouin black. Especially under one of those sweet little dresses, the kind you wear because you’re professional and conservative and a little bit shy. Until I take them off you and find the black lingerie with those kinky straps.

And that piercing that tells me the kind of dirty girl you want to be.

He hadn’t said it, though, because they were friends. Or dating. Or something.

Now, he didn’t say anything about honesty or truth or friends. He just kissed her. His hand in her damp curls, his arm around her back, her curvy body pulled up against his.

He didn’t wait, because her hand was behind his head, pulling him closer, and one of her legs was wound around his. He got a hand on her ass and pulled her up tighter with a hard yank, then grabbed her thigh to keep her there. She gasped into his mouth and started making some noise, and that was it.

He was trying to think, even as he was kissing her neck, bending her back a little while she moaned and he started seriously losing his mind. Trying to tell himself,Be romantic. All you’ve ever done is throw her down and boss her around and fuck her hard. Tonight, you’re not giving orders. Time to be sweet. Slow down and show her … show her …

He lost that train of thought, because she had both hands around his head now and her tongue in her mouth. Her robe had come open, but his hands were under it anyway, touching that little strap at the top of those panties, finding the edge of the high-cut legs, then splaying both hands over her ass.

She filled his hands everywhere he touched her. And he had big hands.

Also, she was dropping to her knees.

Oh, shit.