Deceiver Read online

  He reaches over and grabs a piece of my Tlayuda, the piece I just ate from, and pops it into his mouth, chewing exaggeratedly and then licking his lips.

  “Mm. You’re right. Delicious.” He grins, and I don’t think he’s talking about the food at all.

  “Are you nervous about tomorrow?” I try to change the subject. If we’re going to get through dinner, we are going to have to move to some safer topics.

  “Nervous?”

  “Well, maybe that’s the wrong word. Excited? Anxious?”

  “Hopeful,” he says, and takes a sip of his beer.

  “Hopeful?”

  “Yeah. I really want to find this girl. For her and for her parents.” He shakes his head as if he’s frustrated. “At this point, I don’t think I’m going to find her alive. Finding her body is about the best I can do for them.”

  “That’s so sad.” I don’t know if I want to cry or throw up.

  “Actually, the best I can do is find her body and make sure her killer pays,” he corrects himself. “I’m damned determined to do both.”

  His blue eyes are steeled, and I know he means it. I almost feel guilty admitting it, but I find him really hot right now.

  “You will.” I smile. “I know you will.”

  Once he finishes off his plate and half of mine, we get up to leave. He leaves a generous tip for our waiter, which I have to admire. I’m not really sure I could have been so forgiving if the shoe had been on the other foot.

  Dan holds the door open for me as we walk out. “Is your son home waiting for you?”

  I step outside and walk leisurely to the truck. “He might be home, but he’s never ‘waiting’ for me. He was going to a friend’s house tonight. There’s no telling when he’ll get home.”

  “Would you like to stop by my house and have a drink before I take you home?”

  A drink? Dessert would be better. “Sure. That sounds great.”

  He opens my door and helps me into the cab. I feel like I have Tlayudas stuck in my teeth and smeared on my face. So, I do a quick brush across my teeth with my finger while he walks around to the driver’s side. If I’d known how messy those things were, I would have definitely ordered something different.

  “Did you want to go somewhere else? We could go see a movie, go for a drive, anything you want.” He pulls slowly onto the street.

  “Oh, no. I didn’t have anything special in mind.” Well, nothing I’d feel comfortable sharing at this point.

  “Okay. Because we have all night. We can do anything you want. Or, if you need to get home, I can drive you home.”

  I smile. “I’d love to go see your house and have a drink.”

  He grins. “Okay. But I have a confession to make.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t really have anything to drink at my house except beer.”

  “That’s okay. I actually like beer.” I laugh.

  “I can stop and get something else, if you want. I know you like wine.”

  “I like beer, too.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind stopping.”

  I admire his profile as he drives. I get the feeling he’s nervous now, which is weird since I’m not anymore. We’ve totally swapped places. I should say something to relax him a little, I guess. “Well, I have a confession, too.”

  “Oh, Yeah? What is it?” He glances at me, his curiosity piqued.

  “I’m not really all that interested in the drink, anyway.” Did I really say that out loud? I’m guessing Tod went a long way in boosting my confidence.

  His eyebrow snakes into a question mark, and then he looks at me as if to confirm what he’s thinking is correct. I’m sweating like a two-dollar strumpet on nickel night.

  “Well, if we’re both being honest…” He grins.

  “Yes, let’s.” I chuckle.

  “Okay. So, honestly, I’ve had a hard time thinking about anything else but you all day long.”

  “Me, too.” I blush.

  “Really?” He seems genuinely surprised, not to mention thoroughly pleased.

  He smiles as he presses his foot hard on the gas pedal, and I find myself plastered to the back of the seat, yelping in surprise.

  “Don’t worry. I’m trained for this.” He grips the wheel like a professional NASCAR driver. “Fortunately, I don’t live very far from here.”

  “What if we get pulled over?” It comes out before I even have a chance to filter it.

  Still grinning, he leans forward and pulls something out from beneath his seat. “Don’t worry. Got it covered,” he says.

  He plops the gadget on the dash with a thud and then flips a little button on the side. Immediately, we’re transformed into an official police vehicle, complete with working siren.

  “Are you serious?” I look at him, my jaw slack. “What’s the emergency, Officer?”

  “Well, it’s my pants.” He puts on his blinker, glancing in his rearview mirror as we make a sharp left turn, tires squealing like we’re in hot pursuit. “For some reason, they’re suddenly way too tight.”

  “It’s probably from all that food you ate tonight,” I tease.

  “No. I really don’t think that’s the problem.” He reaches down and tugs at his crotch, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the impressive tent he’s pitching in his lap.

  “Bloody hell,” I blurt, unsure if it’s because I’m really shocked or sorely impressed.

  “Sorry,” he says. “It’s been a really long time.”

  Since my filter’s broken anyway, I let my question fly. “How long?”

  He sighs, pausing to think. “I lost track. Almost a year, I guess?”

  I stare at him as he drives, unable to believe my ears. He could certainly have just about any woman he wanted. This makes no sense.

  He smiles. “I told you, I haven’t been able to focus on anything else today.”

  Well, I can see why not!

  I smile, my confidence level suddenly reaching a ten on the Richter scale. Surely, we’re almost there?

  “It was that goodnight kiss last night. It ruined me.” He wiggles his brow.

  “I have to admit. I’ve thought about it a few times today, myself.” For about two hours each time.

  He turns his blinker on again, bobbing his head around to look in the rearview, and then whips into a long, tree-lined driveway. When he flips the switch on the siren, the lights cease, and I can focus on the scenery.

  His house sits near the end of a nice, quiet cul-de-sac. It’s larger than my mine, but not too over-stated.

  “Finally,” he mumbles, throwing the truck into park and yanking out his keys.

  “Wait there. I’ll get your door,” he orders before hopping out and sprinting around the truck.

  I take a deep breath and grab my jacket. Whew. I really need to slow the ride a bit. I like this guy, and I don’t want him to think I’m a ten cent floozy. Too late for that.

  Dan opens my door, and my eyes gravitate toward his trouser tent, still as big and roomy as ever. Floozy schmoozy. He reaches up to help me out of the truck, and I let myself slide all the way down his body until my feet touch the ground, his enormous erection resting against my stomach.

  He slams the door behind me, grabs me around the waist, and pulls me to him, pinning me against his truck. Oh, goody! An encore! Kissing me like a starving man going after the last peanut, I actually get dizzy from lack of oxygen. His strong hands sink down to cup my behind, pulling me into him as he flexes and pushes his hips.

  “Holy shit,” he groans as he breaks our kiss, sliding his lips to my cheeks, my earlobe, my neck. “You taste good.”

  I can’t stand much more of this. My knees are weak, my breath quick and raspy, and I’m one raw, pulsing nerve. He smells like leather and soap, and I love it.

  I start to worry about neighbors or babysitters or other innocent passersby. “Should we—” He kisses my lips again. “Go. Inside?” I finally manage to get out.

  “Mm. Hm,” h
e moans as he moves on to my neck.

  I lean my head to the side, resting it on my shoulder to give him full access. At this point, I don’t really care if we go into the house or not. His call.

  Finally, he stands up straight, exhaling loudly.

  “Okay. Let’s see if we can make it inside.” He takes my hand, pulling me toward the door, and I stumble along, straightening my clothes and looking around nervously to make sure we don’t have an audience. Fortunately, I don’t see any eyes peering back at me through the dark.

  I turn my attention back to Dan, watching him through hazy, half-lidded eyes as he unlocks the door. What am I doing? Do I really want to have a steamy, hot one-night stand with a man I just met?

  Chapter Seven

  Hell, yeah! I do. This man could tempt a nun into fellatio. It’s been nine months since I’ve been with a man. Christ, I know women who have gotten married and spawned children since I last saw a penis!

  He jiggles the key in the lock, and the door swings open. Then, turning to me with a broad smile, he urges, “Come on in.”

  No need to ask me twice. I brush past him into a nice, well-kept living area. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t something out of Better Homes and Gardens. I’m not sure how I feel about dating a man who keeps a better house than I do.

  He closes the door, tossing his keys on a foyer table. “Would you like that beer now? Or, I think I have some soda, if you prefer.”

  I turn to reply, but I’m put off my guard by the raptor’s eyes staring back at me and the predatory hunger on his face. Suddenly, I’m all at sea again. “Uh… Yeah. Soda. Good.”

  For Heaven’s sake, woman! What did you do with that English degree?

  In the blink of an eye, he crosses the short distance between us, launching himself at me and sweeping me off my feet, in the literal sense. Whoa! Spinning me around, he presses me against the wall, and we are all hands and fingers and lips and tongues again.

  “I have to taste you,” he whispers, licking my earlobe and grazing my neck with his teeth.

  I writhe like a tortured mongoose, my smoldering panties quickly turning into a serious fire hazard.

  “Yes,” I breathe desperately, my fingers driving up his thick, powerful arms.

  He reaches down and grabs the bottom of my shirt, pausing briefly to see if I object. I remove any doubts by flinging my arms above my head with haste, and he tugs it over my hair, tossing it across the sofa behind us.

  As he holds me against the wall, his ravenous gaze travels hungrily across my thin, lacy bra, and my nipples harden, fighting for his attention.

  “Perfect,” he whispers, and I melt like hot butter beneath his gaze. “Take these off,” he insists, poking his finger into the waistline of my jeans and tugging.

  I relieve myself of my pants and shoes quickly and with urgency, unbuttoning and unzipping with a wanton fervor to then fling them across the room as if they’ve somehow offended me.

  I stand there, clad only in my underwear, panting and trying to keep my tongue from lolling out of my mouth.

  “Don’t move,” he commands with a near-serpentine smile.

  Like I would go somewhere? I nod enthusiastically.

  He groans his pleasure as he kisses and nips his way down to my breasts, biting and teasing my nipples through the sheer fabric of my bra. I raise my hands to his shoulders, digging my fingers into the hard, well-toned flesh of his back and pushing him down, down to the eye of my passionate storm.

  He kneels, his fingers lingering on my breasts, torturing my sensitive nipples as he buries his face in my sex. His hot breath puffs against my long-neglected lady parts, nearly tipping me over the edge without even touching me.

  “Ah,” I moan as he toggles and teases with his magnificent tongue. “Please,” I beg through gritted teeth.

  He grunts his reply, sliding my underwear down my legs until I step free of them. Then, grabbing my ankles, he wrests my feet apart as he plants a hot kiss on my knee. Inching his hands up my thighs, he grabs hold of my hips and pulls my sex into his mouth, lapping and suckling my folds.

  I whimper and moan, melting into him, a puddle of pure, undiluted pleasure, until my climax slams into me so intensely, my knees buckle.

  Only when he’s sure that I have nothing left to give does he stand, shoving down his jeans and freeing his spectacular erection like a spring-loaded weapon. Bending, he hooks me behind the knees and hoists me to him, holding my ass in his hand as he guides himself into me with the other.

  “Ah!” I gasp.

  He stops, alarmed. “Am I hurting you?”

  “Slow,” I breathe.

  His eyes rest on mine as, slowly, he pushes into me, all the way until we are hips against hips, skin against skin, and he has totally disappeared. It’s almost too much, the fullness inside me as my body stretches and molds to him, his strong hands gripping my ass and his hard muscles straining against his smooth barrel chest. I close my eyes and moan, absorbing the sweet, agonizing bliss.

  “My God,” he groans against my neck, suddenly finding religion as he burrows inside me.

  “Dan,” I whisper, digging my fingers into his arms and wrapping my legs around him, urging his hips to move.

  He complies, pulling out and driving harder into me. He grinds and flexes and then does it again, and again, pounding into me over and over, until I am back at the edge of the abyss once more, preparing to leap. My body builds, the tingles in my stomach growing stronger, and I inch closer to my release. Suddenly, he yells out, and I can feel him pulsing and seizing, emptying himself into me as my orgasm seems to slip further and further away.

  I bury my face into his chest, trying to catch my breath, and he eases my legs back down.

  “Holy shit,” he pants, gently stroking my back.

  “Yes,” I agree.

  “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “Didn’t mean to do what?” I ask, knowing full well what he’s apologizing for.

  “Well, I mean, yeah. I meant to do that, I guess.” He laughs. “I just meant to do it after you.”

  “Believe me, I have no complaints,” I assure him. And, I really don’t.

  “Can you stay? I promise I will make it up to you.”

  “There’s nothing to make up for. That was wonderful.” I kiss his pounding chest, taking note of the dark sprinkling of hair.

  “Jesus. Tell me about it.” He pulls up his jeans, zipping them so that they hang loosely from his hips, but he doesn’t button them yet. “Here. Let me help you.”

  He grabs my panties off the floor, then my jeans, and finally, my shirt, handing each one to me carefully as he picks it up.

  “Would you like that soda now?” he asks, grinning.

  “Actually, a glass of water would be nice.”

  “You got it.” He disappears into the kitchen, and I finish getting dressed.

  I wonder what time it is? Josh is probably home by now, ready to read me the riot act.

  “Here you go.” He hands me a glass of water, and then apprises me, looking almost disappointed. “You’re fully dressed.”

  “Yes. I thought it best to arrive back home with all of my clothes on.” I grin.

  “Do you want to stay for a while?”

  “Well, I’d love to, but it’s kind of late.” I take a drink of the ice-cold water, trying not to gulp.

  “Yeah. I guess it is. What time do you have to work tomorrow?”

  “Actually, I don’t have to work tomorrow, but I do have some errands I need to run. I also have a kid that I need to go home to. I know he’s seventeen, but I just don’t… you know. I’ve only been on a few dates since my divorce.”

  I finish off the water, and he takes my glass.

  “How long have you been divorced?”

  “About five years now.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Seriously. Not that it’s been much of a sacrifice. Still, being a single parent and all. I mean, who has the time
?”

  “I understand, believe me. It’s just hard to grasp. I bet you get asked out constantly.”

  “I wouldn’t say constantly.” I grin. I might say rarely.

  “Well, you would have been if I’d been around.” He laughs as he heads back to the kitchen with my glass. “Come on. Let me get you home before your son calls the law.”

  I giggle. “Wouldn’t he just reach you?”

  “Hey, I don’t need to be in hot water with your kid. I didn’t ask his permission to take his mom out,” he says with a straight face.

  “Sounds like you know him already.”

  “Sounds like my kind of kid.”

  Dan smiles and hands me my jacket. Shrugging it on, I suddenly wish desperately that I could stay.

  “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer.” The thought of getting closer to him, talking, snuggling even, sends a warm tingle through me. “It’s just that with a kid, even at his age, I don’t feel right staying out all night.”

  “Believe it or not, even as much as I want you in my bed right now, I’m glad you feel that way. If I had my daughter with me…” He shakes his head. “Well, things would be different. Obviously.”

  “I’m glad you understand.”

  He kisses me again, softly this time, sweetly. “Ready?”

  The ride home is not nearly as awkward as I was afraid it might be. Instead, we talked the entire way, the atmosphere easy and full of laughter, sarcasm, wit and sexy innuendo. Too soon, we pull into my drive.

  “I’m going to have to see you again really soon, you know.” He puts the truck into park and turns to face me.

  I smile. “I hope so.”

  “Like tomorrow?” He reaches forward, taming a wild wisp of my hair by combing it behind my ear with his fingers. “I really want to make up for tonight.”

  “Make up for tonight? There’s nothing to make up for.”

  “There is. It’s just that it’s been so long. And you felt so fucking good.”

  His voice trails off, and I can tell his thoughts are straying as he tugs at his zipper. That simple act is enough to set me off again, and I consider taking him right here in the car. Then, I think of Josh pulling into the driveway behind us, bathing us in headlights as Mrs. Gilmore comes outside with a big bowl of popcorn to watch the show, and the feeling disappears like a puff of smoke.