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  He froze, smile still in place. “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  He poised himself over her, eyes on her face, his grin far too smug. And attractive. “Did you mean that? Do you think that?”

  He was hard again. She could see it, licked her lips at the sight of this strong, male body. “I do mean that,” she admitted.

  His eyes ran over her, and he licked his lips, too. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he growled. “I don’t know whether to lick you or fuck you.”

  Her body wanted to be fucked, but the thought of licking was nice, too.

  “Fritter,” she pleaded again, reaching for his shoulders.

  He gave that same grin then backed off the bed.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m getting a condom. Don’t worry, babe.”

  Babe. She was too old to be called that but she liked it coming from Fritter.

  In a flash he was back, lowering his weight onto her, pulling the bedspread down so they were in the sheets. That was awfully considerate of him.

  She wiggled around to help, but it only served to rub her chest on his in a most distracting way. When the blankets were no longer a concern he fell on her, kissing her again and dropping into her hold. His cock was hot and so hard on her leg, and he moved his hips back and forth, rubbing on her. She moaned, trying to move him to where that rubbing would feel the best, but he kept his hips firmly planted as they were. His hands linked with hers, pulling her arms to the sides.

  Then he slid down to pull a nipple into his mouth, tonguing the tip while he sucked. Her head thrashed back and forth. She fought against how her hands had been pinned, but he was stronger and she was enjoying the torture far too much to make an honest effort.

  “Please, please,” she whimpered.

  “Please what?”

  “I need it.”

  “Need what?” It gave her goose bumps—how rough his voice sounded.

  “I need you to ... make love to me.”

  He froze again, eyes fixed on her face. Shit, she blew it. Why did she ask that way?

  “I mean, I need you to—” He cut her off by kissing her again, dropping all of his weight onto her body. One arm slid around under her back, creating an interesting angle as his hips came forward into hers. He filled her fluidly, completely.

  She gasped into his mouth, but he was rearing back and moving forward again, and she whimpered this time, but still he didn’t move his mouth from hers. His tongue was in her mouth, his cock filling her pussy, and every other part of her was contained in and around him. What a fantastic trap.

  The roughness he usually showed her was gone, though. It was still rough, but how he had her held so tightly meant they were closer. A knot of grasping, flexing, sweating, skin and muscle. There were words but it was hard to tell what they wanted to say to each other. Muttered nothings, sweet sayings, dirty talk, all rolling around in between kisses and whimpers and moans. It was all an erotic and thorough conversation.

  With the slower pace the build took much longer, but she hadn’t been keeping track of time. The climax hit her by surprise, spilling throughout her like a hot shock under her skin. Her fingernails dug into his back where they’d happened to be resting, her legs tightened around the backs of his thighs as she trembled. And then she squeaked.

  Sharon didn’t usually scream, or cry out, with orgasm. The previous one had been an exception, but when it was really good and she was incredibly relaxed she had been known to squeak before. It had been years since it happened, but she couldn’t hold back the sound—akin to a rubber chew toy—that tumbled out of her throat. Luckily, she set Fritter off with her release and he moaned along with her, body tightening as he planted himself deep and held.

  They were both coated in sweat. She could feel her hair sticking to her forehead and cheeks, her neck. Absently her hands trailed over his back, making long ovals on his skin as they both caught their breath.

  Every inch of her body was happy. Blissful. And then he spoke.

  “Did you ... was that a squeak? Or a chirp?”

  She immediately felt herself turn pink, and she pushed at him. He rolled to the side, and when she risked looking at him he was grinning. She had to cover her face. “Oh God.”

  “I’ve never heard a squeak before.”

  “Shut up.”

  “You’re my first squeaker.”

  “Shut up!” she was laughing too, joining in with his deep, warm belly laugh.

  “That is so fucking cute.”

  “Now I think you wanna get hit.”

  “Sorry,” he said, which sounded like a lie. He rolled to the edge of the bed and did away with the condom before reaching for the edge of the top sheet. They got underneath the cool cotton and settled on their sides, facing each other like it was the next part of a script.

  “Is it okay if I stay here for a bit?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Don’t want to be alone.”

  She swallowed and reached out for his hand, which he gave her. “Me neither.”

  He was staring at their clasped palms, obviously deep in thought. Before she could ask what was up he spoke. “This is such bad news, isn’t it?”

  Her smile felt sad to her. “Yeah. I think it is.”

  Chapter Twenty

  His first thought was that he’d had a fantastic fucking sleep. His second was wonderment at how fucking hard he was.

  Fritter groaned, rolled to his back and gave the old woody a good scratch. Then he realized he was not in his dorm or his room at his mom’s place. The sheets were too soft, and they smelled amazing.

  Turning his head to the left he remembered why everything smelled so good. It smelled like Sharon and sex and laundry detergent. She was sleeping on her stomach, hugging her pillow to the side of her head, facing away from him. The sheet was resting at the small of her back, the swell of her ass making such a fine shape under the cotton.

  Knowing she had to be exhausted, he realized he should really leave her the hell alone. But seeing her like that caused his erection actual pain. It was her fault, really.

  Carefully he rolled to his side and inched closer to her until he was nearly pressed along the side of her body. He leaned over, breathed deep. Damn, she always smelled so good. Without any permission from him his hand settled itself on the small of her back. It was so firm; there was no extra weight here at all. The line of her spine was a pretty dip in the muscles of her back, curving up at her shoulders, downward again at her lower back, then it ended at her ass. Her perfect, delicious, stunning ass.

  He slid his hand lower, under the sheet, and she squirmed. “Fritter,” she moaned, annoyed. It made him grin and he leaned over to speak closer to her right ear.

  “Did I wake you up?”

  “You know you did.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “No, I’m not.” He pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades. When she sighed he had to smile. He kissed her again, lower on her back, and her hips rolled a bit. On the third kiss she made a low moan. “Should I stop? You’d rather sleep?”

  “I never said that.”

  With a growl he flipped her over by the hips, making her gasp and widen her eyes. But he was mostly interested in the way her tits bounced before settling in place. He stooped over her to kiss each one, taking extra care to reacquaint his tongue with those pearly pink nipples. Her shoulders pressed back, thrusting her flesh into him. He palmed one breast, teasing at the nipple by playing his thumb back and forth softly. The other he drew into his mouth, sucking while running his tongue over the tip hard.

  Her fingers pulled at his hair, the sharp surges of pain making him rub his cock against her leg, but she wasn’t going to hurry him up. When she started rocking her hips as well he pressed a hand between her legs, making her gasp again. God, he loved that sound from her.

  With his middle finger he traced down her slit, dipping inside long enough to wet his
finger. Then he played along her folds, ignoring her clit, while continuing his worship on her breasts. She was moaning, whimpering, trying to trick his hand by moving against what he was doing but he was focused enough not to be fooled.

  “Fuck,” she finally whispered, and he noticed her face was flushed and she was glaring at him. “You’re an asshole.”

  That made him laugh, and he moved up to quickly kiss her. Shit, he loved that she was letting him kiss her now. But he kept it short, pulling back to watch her face as the pad of his thumb pressed into her clit.

  The way her neck arched was gorgeous, and she did that silent open-mouth thing—something he now realized was authentic to her. She wasn’t just trying to keep it down. A few hard circles, her hips jerked, and he waited for it.

  When the little “Eep!” came he had to grin, softly stroking her clit to make sure she finished. When she was done she grabbed his wrist to stop him, then opened one eye. “Not a word,” she muttered.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I really like that.”

  “Shut up.”

  “It’s cute.”

  “I’m not cute.”

  “That sounds is, though.”

  “Shut up.”

  He kissed her again, smiling when she moaned and relaxed. “I gotta get a condom,” he whispered, brushing lips over hers, running his hand up over her stomach and ribs. “Stay right here.”

  “Okay.”

  Quick as a wink he was out of the bed, digging in his kutte pocket for the strip of condoms he’d taken on the run. With the supply tucked under the pillows, one snugly fit in place, he climbed back under the sheets. She hadn’t moved, just watched him the whole time, her face gradually losing her healthy blush. But her eyes were hot as she took him in.

  “Come here,” he growled, pulling her by the hip to the center of the bed. She gave a grunt of protest that he interrupted with his mouth. At the same time he wound his hands into her warm hair, grabbing a fistful in each hand as her legs pressed to his side. The best welcome there was.

  Once she’d stopped resisting kissing him she seemed to take it with all the enthusiasm she could muster. One of her hands clenched at his back, the other found its way to his hair, grasping the same way his were. And her tongue—so warm and sweet. Jesus he loved the taste and feel of her. He could spend all day in that kiss. He nibbled at her bottom lip, sucked at it, and she fought against the playful stuff; pulling his head to hers harder, closing her mouth on his, her tongue seeking and demanding.

  On its own his cock found its way to her wet heat, nudging against the opening as she tried to bear her hips downwards. He resisted that, smiling as she grunted. Without breaking the kiss he inched in slowly, but every time she tried to speed him along he stopped, withdrew and started his slow progress again. It was taking all his control but it seemed to be costing Sharon her sanity.

  When she realized what he was doing she stopped trying to control the situation though, letting him fill her slowly. When he was buried to the base he had to part their mouths to groan, blinking down at her.

  She was flushed again, which he loved. Her lips were parted as she breathed erratically, and her eyes were wide.

  “You are so beautiful,” he breathed, kissing along her jawline. She tilted her chin up to let him do it.

  “Fritter,” she whimpered.

  He pulled out, just a bit, then slid back inside again. She made another impatient whimper. “You feel beautiful.”

  “Fritter.”

  He pulled nearly free, then stared down at her. She was breathing harder, blinking faster. Out of control, the only time he’d seen her like this. He shoved his cock into her harder and faster and she bellowed, eyes clamping shut, head going to the side. He did it again, and again, not mindlessly pounding into her but timing it. Regular intervals, completely fascinated at how she squirmed and shifted, bit her lips, cried out, threw her head from side to side with each thrust.

  Out of his body, totally in his head, focused on her, he bore out her orgasm, feeling the flutters of her body along his cock as though it was all for someone else, issuing that adorable squeak again. Then when she was done she gave a pitiful gasp, staring up at him with water in her eyes, clasping his face with both hands.

  “Jesus, Sharon,” he muttered, not sure what he could say.

  “Amazing,” she moaned, still shaking. “Oh my God.”

  He nestled his face into the side of her neck, letting her collect herself. Gradually his hips started moving again, and with a soft gasp hers rose to meet each motion. When he shifted up to his elbows she grasped his face again and pressed her mouth to his. He growled, tilting his hips upward slightly, making her gasp into his kiss. He swallowed it, and all the ones that came after.

  Limbs entwined, they writhed together until he was close to finishing. At that point he realized he wanted her from behind. He withdrew, which made her moan, then he tossed her over onto her stomach. There was no way he should be able to manhandle her that easily but she was limp, letting him do it. He pulled up on her hips and slammed into her again, staring down at her back, running his hands along her spine and sides, eventually gripping her hips to pull her back and forth against his thrusts.

  She crested again, squeaking and tensing. He watched the muscles in her back bunch, her arms as they clutched at the sheets. The sight of it made him come, and with a loud grunt that cracked his jaw he slammed in deep, bottoming out which made her squeak again. He held her in place as the orgasm raged through him, impossibly long, then he backed off. She collapsed onto her stomach, limbs askew, panting and shaking.

  Such a great view. The best. But he had to get rid of the rubber.

  When he returned to bed she still hadn’t moved. He flopped down on his back, hand at the center of his chest, knowing he was grinning as he let his eyes slide closed.

  “What time is it?” she mumbled, face half obscured by the bedding.

  He checked his watch. “Holy shit. It eight o’clock already. We spent all day in bed.”

  “What?” she reared up on her elbows, eyes wide.

  “Eight o’clock.” He grinned, reaching out to tug on a lock of hair. “What’s wrong?”

  She flew off the side of the bed, grabbing a pair of pajama pants and pulling them up over her long legs.

  Fritter sat up, frowning and scratching his head. “What’s wrong, Sharon? What’s going on?”

  “I have to go check in at the station. I need to release the body and ...” she trailed off as she clasped her bra and turned it the right away around, pulling it into place, looking for her shirt on the floor.

  It was like a cold wash of water. Mickey. Fuck, he’d forgotten. For a couple hours, he’d completely forgotten his brother.

  Without another word he went on the same clothing hunt, in his jeans as she pulled her bedroom door open. He just got his socks and sneakers on, then carried his T-shirt and kutte as he went after her. “Sharon, look. I’m sorry for keeping you.”

  At the bottom of the stairs she froze and he nearly plowed into her. Then he saw what had stopped her in her tracks; her kid, Brayden, was on the sofa with headphones on, a video game on the TV. He looked to them, then away immediately while giving a distracted nod.

  Sharon looked to Fritter, and he had to grin. “Shit,” he said, not able to tamp down the chuckle that rose in his throat.

  She yanked him by the arm, right into the kitchen. “Oh my God,” she was hissing, face pink again.

  “Think he could hear over the video game?”

  “You saw his face. Of course he did!”

  The laughing didn’t stop, but it wasn’t contagious. Unfortunately. She was glaring up at him, hands on hips. “This isn’t funny.”

  “It’s a little bit funny.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  He placed his hand on her side, and she let him, falling still. “Hey. He’s old enough to know his mom has had sex, and
is still getting laid.”

  “That is so disturbing to hear.”

  “It’s true, though. I’m sure he’s dipped wick by now.”

  “Yeah, he has. That’s not the point.”

  Fritter felt his eyebrows rise. “Really? You two talk about that?”

  “He tells me about him, Fritter. I have never had anything to really contribute to the conversations.”

  With a grin he bent down. “Well, now you do. You’re welcome.”

  She smacked him in the chest, but she was starting to smile. He backed away and handed her his kutte. She took it in both hands, then watched as he pulled his shirt on. He took back his leather and slid that on, too. “I’ll go out the same way I came in. I won’t be seen, I promise. I’ll head to the clubhouse.”

  “Okay.”

  After a moment he dipped his head, and she stepped into him, hands on his hips, rising up on her toes a bit to give him a quick kiss. Shit, that was nice.

  “Be careful,” she whispered.

  “You too.” Then with a wink he was out the back door.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Major trauma to the brain, and blood loss. Those are your causes of death.” Chad McTavish rubbed one temple, pushing away from the morgue wall with a deep sigh. “It was definitely the shot to the head.”

  Sharon nodded, crossing her arms. “I figured.”

  “If you don’t need me any longer, Sheriff, I really need to get back to bed.”

  “Sure. Thanks, Chad.”

  He nodded and with a weak wave he was off down the hall. She waited a moment then headed the opposite way to the waiting room outside the hospital morgue’s doors. On the other side Jayce and Jolene were waiting, and she was not looking forward to this. The last time she’d seen Mickey’s wife she’d tried to punch her, and she’d hate to have to put the woman on her ass to defend herself.

  Jolene stayed sitting but Jayce was up on his feet immediately. She waited until he was about two feet away before speaking. “Cause of death was definitely the shot to the head. After I left last night Deputy Sheriff Troy assessed the rest of the garage and left his report for me. It wasn’t just the safe. Someone went through the entire place, opening every cupboard and tool tray in the entire shop. No prints, but they were looking for something. Do you have any idea what it might have been? You don’t have to tell me, obviously, but it’s something to keep in mind when you’re figuring out who did this.” None of that was her staging a crime. Someone had honestly been hunting for something.