He spoke softly, but the two men in the next room heard the words. They appeared instantly, and waited to hear his orders.
“Follow them. Make sure they don’t do anything stupid. Keep a constant eye on them—I want to know everything that happens between now and tomorrow morning.”
Forty-Three
Brad came back into the kitchen, the light not quite as bright in his eyes.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He walked over and kissed me on the head. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “What do you feel like doing today?”
I looked at him, surprised. “What can we do today? Aren’t we under house arrest?”
“No. Your day will be free of danger. What do you feel like doing?”
“Well, at some point I’d like to discuss with you the whole situation we are in.”
He waved that off. “Other than that. I promise, we will sit down and discuss that.”
“Okay...I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it. I need to do laundry and stuff.”
He stared at me. “Laundry and...stuff?”
“Yeah, like ironing, grocery shopping. I have to get ready for work tomorrow morning.”
“First of all, we don’t know if you’re going to work tomorrow.”
I held up my hand, stopping the stupid list he was starting. “Wait—you mean because I might be dead tomorrow?”
“Well...you might be in danger.”
“Okay, so not dead yet. And the whole update-me-on-the-current-status-of-my-own-mortality conversation is something you just kinda...” I waved my hand dismissively. “...tossed aside as something that we will do later. Whether you and your manliness realize it or not, I’d like to have some sort of input in the plot for my survival.” I had sidled over to him during the course of my speech, and I ended the statement by poking his iron chest with my finger.
He grabbed my finger, his eyes dark. “Don’t do that.”
I fought a grin and yanked my hand out of his. We faced off in the kitchen, his hands on his hips, my expression stern, before he broke. Sighing, he wrapped his arms across my stiff body, pulling me to him for a hug.
It was an unexpected gesture, and I fought the embrace and stayed fixed, immobile, refusing to bend to his manly charm. He tried to wrap my arms around him, but they dropped, limp like spaghetti, unwilling to cooperate. He laughed at my stubbornness, his hands becoming playful, running through my hair, down my noncompliant arms, grabbing and squeezing my clenched butt. That broke me, and I smiled despite myself.
“There you go,” he said, nuzzling my neck. “I know that you want to know what’s going on. But all I can tell you is that you are safe. They have promised to stay away until I speak with them in the morning. And in the morning, I will play a card that they don’t expect, and one that they will have no recourse against. I promise you, it will be fine.”
“What, some secret body hidden somewhere? You’re going to blackmail them?”
He scowled at me. “Nothing so barbaric, Julia. I’m the good son, remember?” He held up a hand, stopping my thought process. “Just let me handle it. Please. I ask for one day of secrecy.”
“I thought we weren’t going to have any more secrets,” I grumbled into his chest. I didn’t like it, but twenty-four hours of freedom was more than I had fifteen minutes ago. I relaxed a bit in his arms.
“It’s a good secret. So, what do you want to do today, other than laundry or some other menial errand?”
I stood on my tiptoes and put my mouth on his earlobe, biting it gently, then releasing it and giving him a suggestive smile. He grinned down at me and then dipped me back, nibbling and kissing my neck. Then he threw me over his shoulder and bounded up the stairs.
“I’m leaving for the day!” Martha called, up the stairs to Brad’s retreating back. “You hear me?” Not getting a response, she shook her head, then wiped her hands on a dish towel, grabbed her purse and headed out the door, locking it securely behind her.
* * *
BRAD DEFTLY NAVIGATED through the broken pieces of his ex and threw me down onto soft sheets. He pulled my legs to him, grabbing the waist of my skirt and sliding it and my panties down, leaving me bare and exposed.
His mouth was instantly covering me, his tongue making incredible sensations that caused my toes to clench and my breath to catch. And when I came, five minutes later, it was intense, all of my tension and emotions spilling out, turning into delicious ecstasy and liquid, amazing pleasure.
He kept his mouth on me, gradually softening the pressure from his tongue, until he did nothing but hold me in his mouth, my body occasionally twitching in postorgasm aftershocks. When he did lift his mouth, I lay useless on the bed—drained of any coherent thought or muscle response. He grabbed my skirt, using it to wipe his mouth, and I frowned at him through my euphoria. He landed next to me, and I rolled over groggily, reaching for him, for his hardness.
He pushed me away, and I frowned at him. “Not now,” he said. “You can take care of me later.”
I pouted, but relented, watching him walk to the closet. “Have you decided what you want to do today?” he called, sifting through clothes.
“Got any well-hung friends?”
He glanced over, a grin on his face, and I stuck out my tongue playfully.
“I could certainly arrange that, if that is what you are in the mood for.” He emerged from the closet, dressed casually, pulling a baseball hat onto his head. Pressing me back onto the bed, he ran his teeth over my neck, nibbling on the soft skin until I giggled.
“Stop—seriously!” I pushed him off and propped myself up on one elbow. “Ummm...what about an afternoon movie?” I glanced at the clock.
He frowned, sitting next to me and reaching for the drawer of the bedside table. “So, no afternoon gang bang?” Pulling out a watch, he slid it onto his wrist and fastened the buckle. Not waiting for a response, he leaned over, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before standing. “A movie sounds good to me. We can do some shopping and grab lunch first, if you want.”
The word shopping instantly perked me up. “That sounds good.” I rolled out of bed and grabbed the bag of clothes I had packed. I rummaged deep in the bag, finding my makeup pouch and my toothbrush. I grabbed both and joined Brad at the long counter, and we brushed our teeth in companionable silence.
“You ready?” he asked, after rinsing thoroughly.
“Five minutes,” I mumbled, through toothpaste bubbles.