Enticement (24 page)

His hand fell upon Evie’s leg, his fingers curling. Evie squeezed his hand between her thighs, reassured, but still curious. “Why didn’t you both just admit to what you were doing?”

“Because it wasn’t like it is now. It wasn’t comfortable between us. It was awkward and new. And it felt wrong. That and admitting it to the police was bad enough. I’m not sure the rest of the village knowing would have helped. There were a few vocal villagers like Molly and Tony who actually accused him of murdering her, but most of them were just disgusted at him for letting her walk home alone. Telling them he’d done it so that he could indulge in gay sex with his best mate would only have further damaged their opinion. And now, I don’t think anything short of actually finding her will make things right.”

“I assume people have tried to find her?”

“Don’t start digging, Evie. I know you like puzzles, but this one is best left.”

She saw his point. Absolutely. But that didn’t stop her scanning through all the missing persons sites on the internet the following morning. Of course, all she turned up were more tales of woe, but they gave her a better perspective on what Kit surely felt. She kept trying to imagine what it would be like if Ross simply never came home one night, but the ache that started in her chest at the very notion of it stopped her exploring the idea.

“Were you crazy?” she asked the absent Sammie. “Why the hell would you walk out on Kit and Ross?” She couldn’t envisage one good enough reason for ever doing so. They were far too bloody scrumptious.

At lunchtime, she armed herself with green tea and another tub of ice cream, and went in search of Kit.

Chapter Fifteen

“I know you’re in there.” Evie stood on the doorstep of Rose Cottage, peering through the letterbox at a marginally improved view of the hallway since her last visit, although there were still cables hanging out of the walls. There were no builders on the roof today.

Abandoning the notion of politeness, she went round the back of the house and climbed through the sash window into the kitchen. Kit sat hunched on a window ledge in the rear bedroom. “What do you want?” he asked.

“Sorry.” She waved a thermos of freshly brewed tea and the ice cream tub at him.

His jaw remained set, lips tightly pursed. Then the tiniest flicker of a smile quirked the edge of his mouth. He took a slug of tea. “Spoon?”

Evie pulled a teaspoon out of her purse, polished it on her sleeve and handed it over. “Did you sleep here?” She threw a glance at the horrid iron-framed bed that sat in the centre of the room. It looked as if it’d done time on the set of a Hammer horror film or three.

Kit dug the spoon into the ice cream, turning it upside down in his mouth to lick it clean. “Can’t say I did much sleeping. The ceiling’s got a ton of cracks in it.”

“The bed at home is too big without you. I’ve got used to snuggling and Ross won’t unless you force him to. He thinks I can see into his head or something, if we’re touching.”

“Can you?”

“No more than you can see into mine.”

“How’d you know I can’t?”

“Because you haven’t jumped me yet.” The notion of Kit having psychic abilities made her more nervous than it ought. He might not be able to read her every thought, but Kit was damned good at interpreting her physical responses. Considering how little time they’d known one another, he had a remarkably good grasp of how to push her and when. As for his responsiveness between the sheets, well, she could almost believe there was a supernatural ability involved.

“Maybe I just like stringing you along.” Kit loaded the spoon and held it out towards her. When she stretched forward to lap it up, he jerked the spoon away from her lips, and held it just a fraction out of reach. “Ross tell you all about it, did he? About how screwed up with guilt I am.”

“He explained your side, yes. It seemed only fair after Molly had given me hers.” And planted all those doubts, she might have added.

“I don’t actually want to talk about it. I’d rather talk about you, and whether you’re prepared to share a story with me yet.”

Considering how much she’d learned about him now, she could hardly deny him a little of herself. Still, there was a part of her that wanted to flee the notion of exposing her innermost thoughts. She’d gone over and over the tale she’d constructed for him the previous day while eating her porridge, but it had seemed flat. Besides, it was a lie, and barely stirred her to mild interest. It would impress Kit even less. It’d probably set him yawning after a minute and a half. Instead, she’d have to share something deeply personal and hope he’d understand. Hell, she’d even come prepared with props.

“Evie?” His fingers trembled, causing the laden spoon to shake.

She closed her hand around his wrist and held him still as she devoured the ice cream. The cold raised tingles as it slid down her throat, an excitement that further sparked at the heat in his gaze as she wiped the smear of dessert from her lips. “Maybe.” She hedged her bets. “Or rather, I don’t have a story. My sex life was boring in the past. But you said a fantasy would be okay.”

“I did.”

They both stood so still for a moment that she could hear their breathing, two discordant whispers in the echoey room. Exposing herself like this just didn’t come easy. She’d follow someone’s lead, be expressive in the heat of the moment, but talking things over like this simply filled her with shame. She’d sound foolish…perverse…really darned perverse. He might laugh, or worse—be horrified.

“Go on,” he prompted. “Or should we get comfortable first?” As he ogled the bed, a grin transformed his sullen visage back into that of the warm and loving man she’d let into her relationship. Molly’s accusations had never really broken her trust in him. They’d just planted seeds for doubt, which she’d stupidly allowed to grow.

Eschewing the bed, she remained by the window. “It’s a bit sad…tacky, maybe.”

“Let me be the judge. Just tell me.”

Evie swallowed deeply. “It’s after dark, and I’m somewhere I shouldn’t be.”

“What sort of somewhere?” It was like a magic switch. Suddenly, Kit was alive again. His dark eyes glowed with curiosity as he unfolded his legs from the window ledge and set his feet upon the floor.

“An old building. I get caught. There’s this man.” She closed her eyes falling into the scene: an ill-lit corridor with a slippery, highly polished parquet floor. Dressers stood at regular intervals, housing silver cups and rows of gleaming trophies. “He’s older than me, and scary, but he’s beautiful too. Refined, and yet at the same time wild underneath. He’s furious when he finds me walking about and he grabs me by the wrist.” She locked her own fingers around her lower arm and squeezed so that the flesh ached. “He drags me to this other room. A classroom.”

She paused, waiting for Kit to snort at the admission. School fantasies, especially finishing school were so passé. She’d been telling herself that for long enough. Unfortunately, attempting to deny its power only seemed to increase the taboo appeal of it, in much the same way that any sort of denying herself something made her lust after it.

But this wasn’t just about being naughty. It was about wanting what was wrong and exposing herself.

“All the other girls are there,” she continued.

“Dressed like you? What are they wearing?”

“Uniform. White blouses and grey skirts with short knitted cardigans, and we’ve hats too. Boaters, with red and white ribbons.”

Ashamed, she hid her face, but couldn’t resist peeping at him from between her fingers. Kit didn’t remark upon the outfit, but he looked at her as if he were making a mental assessment. Was it her imagination or did his gaze linger over her breasts? Evie didn’t even wear a skirt for work, but she’d chosen one today, slightly longer and straighter than the pleated one of her fantasy, but nevertheless reminiscent of it. The top she’d chosen buttoned down the front too. Kit’s attention lingered upon the top pearlescent button. Just a hint of the valley between her breasts showed above it.

“I’m a virgin,” she blurted and coloured just like the real thing. “I don’t know what it’s like, but I think about him all the time. He’s the only male teacher.”

“And you’ve made him angry. Does he punish you?” Kit’s voice was soft as a whisper.

She nodded. “But not in the way I’d like.”

“Meaning he won’t fuck you.”

“No…yes.”

Her conflicted response raised a low chuckle in his throat, but it didn’t feel like he was laughing at her, merely that he appreciated the duality of her answer.

“He makes me expose myself. I have to stand on a chair in the middle of the class and lift my skirt.”

Heat swept across her face. Evie ground her teeth into her lower lip, knowing that her skin was blazing. She screwed her eyes closed, not sure if she could actually bring herself to go on. This was too personal. She’d never contemplated sharing it with Ross, though the whole idea of it turned her on so much she was reduced to squirming on the spot, to provide some friction for her sensitized and achy clit.

Kit’s clothing swished as he moved. He came to rest just behind her, so that his breath stirred the wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail.

“Lift your skirt, Evie.”

His words, hissed into her ear, and caused a further pooling of moisture in her sex.

“I can’t,” she sobbed.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Kit, I need a minute. Give me a minute.”

He eyed her curiously, but didn’t stop her fleeing. Evie ran to the bathroom, where she raked through her purse for the item she’d brought with her. God, she hoped he understood. Hoped he realized what she was trusting him with, and that she was asking him to trust her in return.

Kit was absent when she returned, but he entered a moment later. She didn’t know where he’d got them from in this old crumbling ruin of a house, but he’d pulled on a gown and mortar board over the top of his clothes.

“Where were we, before I was unfortunately called away?” His smile warmed her from the inside out. Then, he was no longer smiling, but scowling and stern. “I believe you were going to give us a demonstration of your lewdity.”

“Yes, sir. Please, sir.” Further flames licked across her cheeks, but it felt good to lapse into the role. She sometimes role-played with Ross. They’d invent little scenarios in which they’d met in the rain, or he’d pick her up in a bar and take her to a hotel room and do her. Then they’d drive home separately and pretend nothing unusual had gone on.

“You’re a disgrace to yourself and to this school, Miss Latham.” Kit gave each sound a distinctly sarcastic inflection, taking on the persona of a stern tutor so well, his version completely meshed with the construction in her head. “Come now. You weren’t being so shy among the trophies. Show the other girls what a rampant little slut you are.”

The way Kit said “slut” made it more of a purr than an insult.

“Raise your skirt. Take down your knickers, and show them what you’ve been doing.”

“No. I can’t.”

“Show them how disrespectful you were of the rounders baton.”

God, he caught on fast. Kit half tugged, half pushed her towards the centre of the room, where he kicked over a metal bucket and made her stand on it. “Don’t defy me, Evangeline. You’ll do as I ask if you know what’s good for you.” Good grief, did he actually wink at her as he said it? “I’m sure you’ll prefer my methods to that of your peers. You know we encourage the girls to discipline themselves at this establishment, and I don’t think you’ll care for twenty-three wood-backed hairbrushes warming your backside. I understand that’s the current punishment.”

It was, and she’d been the fool to propose it, never for a moment imagining she’d be the one forced to lie exposed, her arousal becoming increasingly evident as the smacks warmed her, and readied her for a good fucking that would never come. No, better that she did as Sir asked. Better she expose herself to this more minor punishment. And maybe by doing so, she’d tempt him to scratch the itch she’d been desperately trying to soothe when he’d caught her.

“Don’t make things worse by standing here faking embarrassment. I heard your groans.”

“But, sir.” She leaned towards him as best as her precarious balance would allow. “I was thinking of you, and I wasn’t abusing the bat. Belinda had just left it there when we came in from games earlier.”

“Don’t argue with me. Raise your skirt and take down your knickers.”

Evie faltered, so enthralled by the image Kit had conjured that she almost wanted what to pursue what he was suggesting, and what he presumably thought they were heading towards. Her sex felt all squirmy and wet. She was opening like a flower unfurling its petals, her body preparing to welcome him, and already tightly gripping what she’d put in place.

“But, sir.”

Kit’s face darkened with rage.

“You know I can’t,” she blurted. “Because I’m wearing it. Like you showed me the other night. I couldn’t help it. I liked what we did. Can we do it again… please?” She dug her teeth into her lip.

“My office, now!”

Evie hopped down off the bucket, and Kit half dragged, half pushed her over to the bed.

“What are you wearing? What exactly are you implying, girl?” Kit’s eyes crinkled with confusion. She prayed she hadn’t thrown him too much, switching the scenario from something he seemed surprisingly sure of to something very different. He’d understand soon. She just prayed he wouldn’t be shocked in the way she suspected Ross would be. This wasn’t something she’d ever had the nerve to ask of him, though the fantasy had first arisen due to his coaxing and suggestions that they explore a little rear entry.

No, Ross would have been deeply shocked, and she’d never wanted to rock the boat. Things were comfortable between them. They each had their kinks. Ross loved water and getting them wet, and she loved watching him masturbate. It was balanced—intrinsically fair. Even with the addition of Kit the equation still balanced. They shared him equally.

“Show me. Now.”

Evie tentatively grasped the hem of her skirt and began slowly dragging it upwards, exposing one inch of thigh after another, after another.

“Up,” Kit demanded, going so far as to shove a hand between her tightly clasped thighs. “And stand up straight. What would Miss Bellows think of your deportment?”

She wasn’t wearing panties, but nor was she bare.

Kit’s breath caught. He blinked and then his shoulders relaxed. “So that’s what you were about in the bathroom. I’m surprised at you, Evie. I thought you were such a good girl. Where have you been hiding it? Not in your toy drawer.”

He’d been through her toy drawer! She was about to protest the intrusion, but he snapped back into character. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Is it not buckled right? I did it just like you showed me.”

“Like I showed you?”

Her knees felt weak. What was he thinking? Was he horrified? Kit pressed a fingertip to the tip of the stubby black dildo attached to the harness she wore, and gave her a curiously indulgent smile.