Like Arrows (Cedar Tree #6) Page 12

  Heading down to check the laundry room, I hear the patter of bare feet on the stairs above me and turn just in time to see Kim coming around the basement door. She lets out a scream and slaps a hand over her mouth when she spots me at the bottom of the stairs. The other hand is desperately trying to hang on to the towel wrapped around her midsection. Looking up the stairs I have a perfect view of the tidy patch of hair at the apex of her soft white thighs. All that is in my mind all of a sudden is wedging my shoulders between those thighs and breathing her essence in before tasting her. Which is why I totally miss what Kim is saying.

  "Mal!" she yells, finally catching my attention, but also propelling my feet into motion, climbing those stairs two at a time. This causes Kim to back up against the kitchen counter. "You scared me half to death," she manages, her ample chest heaving, tits threatening to spill free from the flimsy hold the barely clutched towel provides. I stop two feet away from her, breathing at least as heavily as she is.

  "I called out." My voice sounds hoarse and I swallow.

  "I was blow-drying my hair," she whispers, her eyes big and round.

  I don't even try to hide my hungry scan of her body. Didn't expect her to look so soft, so downy. Cute toes, a touch of turquoise on the tips, tapering out to full legs and round hips. A soft belly and high waist underneath a set of tits that have my mouth watering. Jesus fucking Christ.

  I can smell her...fuck, that smell. Something fresh: a hint of citrus and rich spices underneath. Shampoo and... arousal.

  By the time my eyes reach her cute as hell face, her teeth are worrying her plump bottom lip and her eyes are dark and hot. The pressure of my surging cock behind my zipper has me wince and I press the palm of my hand against my fly. Her eyes inadvertently follow the movement and at the sight of my crotch, they pop open even further. Her mouth falls open.

  "You do that to me," I growl. "Don't need to be almost naked either. You come near me, I see you or smell you, this happens."

  She looks at me with a mix of surprise and panic clear on her face. Before she has a chance to make a run for it, I take the remaining two steps to box her in against the counter, an arm on each side of her. Her scent is stronger and my head dips down to take her mouth. Slowly. Thoroughly. Her lips open immediately allowing my tongue to sweep in. I can't stop a deep groan as the heady combination of her smell, taste, and her softly receptive body pressed against me, hits my senses from all directions. Her hands that were clutching at the towel earlier, are now holding on to my shoulders. Wrapping one arm behind her, I use the other to push back from the counter without losing her mouth, press her body closer and turn us both. With my back to the counter, Kim is in between my spread legs. It's easier for me to reach her mouth now—and other places. Sucking on her lower lip, I slowly let it slide from between mine before kissing her jaw, along her neck and down to her shoulder. She automatically tilts her head away to allow me access. The moment I pull my chest from hers the towel slides down, exposing a surprisingly small, dark pink and very hard little nipple. Ignoring her sharp intake of breath, I bend my head and suck it hard against the roof of my mouth. My nostrils are flaring, sucking in air while I feast on her breasts. The small whimpering sounds escaping from her have my cock leaking pre-come like a teenager.

  "Malachi..." Her soft voice pleads, hands grabbing on to my head pressing me to her.

  The shrill ring of the doorbell bursts the erotic bubble and with a pop, her nipple slips from my mouth.

  "Don't move," I tell her, my voice ragged. "Be right back."

  I set her back a little and walk to the front door to find a teenager selling newspaper subscriptions in the neighborhood. Assuring the kid we're not interested I return to the kitchen, only to find her gone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kim

  "I'll be there at ten thirty to pick you up."

  Surprisingly excited at the prospect of a little shopping, I quickly check my bank account. My savings are substantial enough to take a little dent. I've never enjoyed shopping much, but when Emma called to see if I wanted to head into Durango with her, to her favorite plus-size boutique, the prospect of some new threads suddenly seemed like fun.

  Nothing to do with the beautiful tall man who seemed irritated after I ran into my bedroom after our hot and heavy make-out session in my kitchen. In broad daylight with every bump and dimple of my body on display. My God, I'd never been so mortified once the blinding fog of sex was lifted by a simple ring of the doorbell. I have no idea what possessed me. Sure, there was no doubt he had a reaction to me. A pretty intense one, but I convinced myself the moment his mouth and hands left my body that he'd come back into the kitchen, take one look, and realize the mistake he made. So I ran. Even though he had ordered me to stay put, I beelined it up the stairs. By the time he came after me, I was already dressed in my most comfortable sweats. Safely unappealing.

  His eyes darkened when I finally opened the door to him, and his mouth drew tight. His disapproval obvious. He didn't like it when I told him it was all a mistake. Didn't like that at all.

  "Bullshit," he said. "You're scared. You don't want to see what's right in front of you and is so obvious to everyone else. You're a gorgeous woman. All of you. You look good, you smell great and you taste even better."

  Embarrassed at his candor, I pushed past him and went downstairs, Mal close on my heels.

  "Mouse, I'm not gonna push this, but what happened just now, my mouth and hands all over you and you whimpering with need? That's only the beginning. It will happen again, and next time I'll want to taste that pussy that got so wet for me I could smell it."

  I remember the combination of disgust at myself and instant arousal at his words, but other than the blush I could feel on my face I pretended to ignore his words.

  "Why are you here?"

  When he finally gave up on the intense stare-down, he told me about Gus's plan to have Emma and Mal's sister-in-law, Katie, come with us to Vegas. We'd go in two cars, so Katie could make sure no one follows us. Apparently Katie had been an active part of the team until she'd had her baby and wanted a chance to go back 'into the field.' My first reaction had been negative. It felt like an intrusion. But after a little consideration, I had to admit it was probably the best compromise. Why Malachi had stepped up as my protector, who knows, but he was determined to look out for me and I had a choice of either going with his plan, or not going at all. And I wanted to go to Vegas. Besides, Emma had made me feel really comfortable the first time we met at breakfast, and to be honest, the idea of maybe making some new friends felt good.

  Mal left shortly after that, but not without bending low to press a soft kiss to my lips. "You go have some fun with the girls, but babe, when you come back, we're gonna see where this goes."

  For the last two days I haven't seen him, but his words have been rolling around in my head. In fact, I haven't been able to think of much else until Emma called. She's so excited about going to Vegas and some of it is spilling over to me.

  "I absolutely have to have some new clothes. All I own is sweats, yoga-pants and a few stray jeans. Nothing soft and summery. It's gonna be warm there already, you know?"

  Yes I know, I've been all over my own closet with little to show for it. It tickled me to hear Emma's wardrobe is much like mine. Although I do have a few business outfits, they are mostly aimed at hiding, not showing off. For some reason I feel like showing off a little. I try to deny it has anything to do with the hunger in those obsidian eyes as they scanned over my near naked body a couple of days ago.

  And still...

  -

  "So funny that I lived in Durango for years and never knew this place was here," I point out to Emma who is leading the way into what appears to be a historic brick building along Main Avenue. It probably had more to do with the fact that I never considered the boutique would have anything for people my size, so I never even bothered to look closely.

  "This is awesome!" I blurt out when I look at the manne
quins scattered around the store in all shapes and sizes. Both Emma and the plump sales lady smile at my outburst.

  "Hi, I'm Leslie," the woman says. "Why don't you have a look around and if there's anything you need to know, ask me. We have tall, regular and petite sizes in most items and certain things are grouped by body shape."

  "I'm in fucking awe, pardon my French," flies out of my mouth when Emma and I start moseying around. Emma bursts out in a deep belly laugh, so infectious, I have no choice but to join her.

  "Never would I have guessed you knew how to swear," she says, a smile still playing on her face.

  "Oh, I know how, I just rarely do," I admit. "Here though, I feel like I can totally let it all hang out. This is such a great place. I don't feel I have to make myself 'small' to blend in. But I'm sorry about the swearing."

  Emma's eyes on me have turned pensive. "I'm afraid you and I are gonna have to have some talks," she says seriously. "I have more than just a few years on you and you'll have to forgive me when I feel the need to impart some of my hard-earned wisdom on you."

  "Okay?" My tentative reply makes her smile.

  "Just be prepared to get a good swift kick in the booty, every time you hold back the real you. Promise you'll not suppress a damn thing today. Enjoy it with me without worrying about whether you can or you should, just grab on. Got me?"

  I'm actually not quite sure I do, but I nod anyway. I'm gonna try and go with the flow.

  I start roaming the racks around me, completely lost in the vivid colors and gorgeous materials. My colors of choice have always been black or grey. Occasionally I would 'dare' to venture into a dark navy or brown, but actual color? Very rare and those pieces hang mostly unworn in my closet. But I'm going to Vegas—and black in Vegas is just...wrong.

  "Honey," the kind voice of Leslie has me turn around. She's standing with her arms folded, hip cocked and her face wearing a lopsided grin. "You do realize you're in the wrong section, right? This is for apple-shapes, which you're not. You have a lot of shape you should be happy with. I'm thinking somewhere between hourglass or pear."

  I look down at myself and back up at her, not quite understanding. She reaches out, grabs my hand and pulls me in front of a mirror in the section where Emma is browsing around. Stepping behind me, she puts her hands on my shoulders. "What do you see?"

  I shake my head to clear it. "What do I see? I see me?"

  "When you look at your body, what do you see?"

  I snort. It's a funny question, especially because I don't look at my body. I avoid it at all times. Even when I accidentally catch a glimpse, I turn away from the mirror quickly. So I tell her, "Hardly anything. I avoid it."

  Her head tilts to the side, observing me quietly. "You shouldn't avoid it. You've got it going on with all these rich curves. Look here." She lifts my arms up to the side and sets her hands on my hips. "You've got these hips that are made for showing off. A nice long curve from your knees all the way to your waist, where you dip in. You've got a waist. Apples don't have waists. They need clothes that make it look like they have one. But you, you've got one, right here." She grabs me firmly where she claims my waist is. With her hands on there I can see I actually do have a bit of an indent. Hmmm. "Now from the waist up, you have a set of knockers that when displayed properly, would knock any man off his feet."

  "She's not lying." Emma is leaning on her walker, watching us. "You hide your shape."

  I step away from the mirror and turn to face them. "I don't, I hide my rolls."

  Wrong thing to say. Emma squints her eyes and Leslie clucks, shaking her head.

  "Honey, there'll be no hiding here and those are not rolls. We call them curves and we're gonna show those babies off. Now come with me."

  An hour and forty-five minutes later, feeling more like a full day, I dump my selections, or rather, Emma and Leslie's selections for me, on the counter. Soft flowy tops, three quarter-sleeved A-line tees in three colors, some stretchy jeans with bootcut legs that are so comfy, I want to live in them, and finally, black shoes and a dress. I haven't worn a dress since I was twelve years old and my mother forced me into wearing one for my First Communion. An experience that caused me to stay far away from dresses, and church, ever since. Leslie picked it out, telling me every woman needs an LBD—little black dress. The only good thing I saw when pulling it into the dressing room with me, was that it was black. It took Emma and Leslie half an hour to convince me that the dress was made for me. Fifties retro style, with a fitted bodice ending right under my breasts and a roomy skirt that falls right on my knees. A deep swooping neckline with a saucy little slit for some added cleavage and straight three-quarter sleeves. I had a hard time looking away from my dimpled knees, but when Leslie put some black, very narrow black pumps on my feet with a slightly blunted tip of the toe and reasonable heels so I won't break my neck on them, I was sold.

  -

  "That was the most fun I've ever had shopping," I tell Emma honestly when she drops me off at my house, with my four bags stuffed full of purchases. "I'm in desperate need of some tea, though. Would you care to come in for a cup?"

  "Would love to. And I had a blast too. Shopping is not usually something I enjoy, but when I discovered that place a couple of years ago, it became much less painful." She chuckles at her own words.

  We end up outside on the back deck with our coats on so we can enjoy the warm afternoon sun, a steaming cup of tea in our hands.

  "So I'm curious," Emma starts, turning to face me. "You mentioned something about that sexy black number Leslie forced you into—which by the way, looks stunning on you. That was the first dress you've put on since you were twelve? What's the story with that?"

  The question has me wince and I take a quick sip of my tea, delaying the answer, which would expose more of myself than I've ever been comfortable with. Emma patiently waits, and nothing about her suggests she'd be anything other than understanding. I take a deep breath and a leap of faith.

  "My mother insisted I wear this hideous dress for my First Communion. So unflattering that some guy in church compared me to a bride on her way to a shotgun wedding. Mom was angry with me, although I could never figure out the reason why. So every time my mom tried to force me into a dress after that, I threw a tantrum. Vowed never to wear one again. Instead I started wearing anything black and oversized to her abject horror." A sour little snort escapes me when I think of the way she would scold me for not even trying to be pretty. I shrug my shoulders in an attempt to shake it off. I promised myself I was done with that—done with letting it spoil the gain I made this morning alone.

  "I see," Emma says quietly and even with sparing her most of the details, I believe she does.

  We sit quietly for some time, sipping tea, thinking our own thoughts, while watching Boo chase imaginary flies.

  Mal

  "Drew just called," Gus says the minute I walk into the office.

  "You're going to want to head over to Kim because he's on his way there. A neighbor called the cops early this morning, reporting a possible break in at her place. Cops found the door broken open and her place rifled through. Took them a while to figure out this was possibly connected to the murder and so Drew didn't find out until this afternoon. He wanted to know where she was, Mal. I had no choice but to tell him. You know he's a good guy."

  A good officer of the law, yes. A good guy, I'm not so sure.

  "I'm on my way," I tell Gus before heading back out the door.

  "Call me when you have a chance, we'll talk about moving up this Vegas excursion," Gus yells after me and I wave my hand in acknowledgement.

  -

  I'm surprised to find Emma's SUV in the driveway behind Kim's blue Honda. I end up parking on the street and walk up the drive when I can hear voices trailing from the back of the house. I recognize both Kim's and Emma's. Instead of going in, I decide to intercept Drew before he has a chance to barge in like a bull in a China shop. Standing there, leaning against the side of the house, I
can't help picking up some of the conversation from the backyard and what I hear angers me. Additional evidence that her mom is a piece of work, and all the more reason for me to prove to Kim how wrong that woman was.

  The moment Drew's patrol car pulls in tight to Emma's bumper, I'm up on my feet and approaching him. He shakes his head on a little smile when he sees me coming. Bastard.

  "Are you trying to piss me off?"

  "Doesn't take much, apparently," the smartass fires back.

  "Something happens to my girl's place and you don't think to call me first? I'm gonna take that as a challenge."

  "Keep your shorts on. Gus mentioned you were on your way in when I called to notify him. I didn't feel the need to double up our efforts in getting word to you. As for 'your girl,' did you have a chance to talk to her?"

  "No. I wanted a chance to get some more information first." I consciously let go of the anger I've nursed since getting the news.

  "Original call came in at five this morning. On duty officers went to check it out, found the side door kicked in. They gained entrance and found the place tossed."

  "How bad?" I want to know.

  "Just came from the house. Looks like a mostly methodical search. The tossing part is mostly pillows thrown around, contents of drawers and cupboards pulled out. And they emptied her freezer. That's what tells me they were looking for something specific."

  "You think her boss mentioned something? Right before they shot him? Doesn't make sense, they would've come after her sooner," I point out.

  "Maybe. Could be he told them he had left information with someone in case anything happened to him, trying to save his ass. First place they'd look would be close family. He has a sister in Houston I talked to earlier this week about the release of his body by the coroner. She wants to bring him back out there for burial. I haven't heard anything since but it's possible someone's been sniffing around her, got nothing and is moving on to the next candidate. His assistant."