Her Only Desire (14 page)

The vibrations slowed, lulling her. His lips relaxed, his tongue stroking her bared knot in wet, soothing laps, until, at last, she lay limply, her hands still hugging her breasts.

She closed her eyes and let out one last reedy moan.

Kisses landed on her pussy and covered her inner thighs, her bottom. Hands gripped her waist and pulled her up. Boone turned her, sliding her over his lap, her capris and undies dangling from one lolling foot.

With a strong arm, he held her against his chest and stroked her belly, between her legs, providing a brand of intimate comfort she’d never experienced from a man. Then fingers entered her and tugged on the small egg. He placed it on his desk, and she pushed her face into the corner of his neck, because the whitish fluid that coated it embarrassed her. After everything that he’d done, that she’d accepted, she knew the reaction was silly, but she hid.

“No showering.” Boone pressed a kiss against her ear. “No changing your clothes. Not until tonight. I want your panties wet and sticky.”

She groaned. “I’ll smell.”

“No one but you will notice. But I’ll know you’re uncomfortable. When you see me, you’ll blush. When you’re thinking about that lovely orgasm, I want you to lower your gaze.”

“Will your men know? Is this something you always do?”

“No, it’s a new rule. Just for you.” The corner of his eyes crinkled. “Lower your gaze. Wait for me to come to you. I’ll touch you. Not anything that will cause anyone else to know what we’ve been up to, but you and I will know.”

She’d said he used this kind of play to create a connection. Now she understood how right she’d been. Every time she lowered her eyes, she’d be thinking of her hot bottom and the pleasure he’d given her with his mouth.

With a slow move, she bent back her head to look at his lips.

“Do you want a kiss?”

Her gaze flitted up to his eyes.

His blue gaze was glinting.

“Yes, sir.” She wrinkled her nose. “You ask me questions just because you like hearing me say that, don’t you?”

A smile curved his mouth, and blue eyes reflected a smoky heat. “I do. You please me, Tilly Floret.”

“But you didn’t take your own pleasure.”

He sighed and tightened his embrace, pressing her down on his erection. “That’s my penance for my lack of control.”

Drawing her eyebrows together, she frowned.

She thought he’d shown a great deal of control, taking care with her body to the exclusion of his own orgasm. But before she could ask what he meant, he tapped her nose.

“I’m sending someone around to your brother’s group house to do an assessment. We’ll want to know how best to integrate him here.”

Tilly sighed. If the moment wasn’t already perfect enough…“I’m sorry if this is getting complicated—my problems shouldn’t become yours.”

Boone shook his head. “I wouldn’t be taking them on if I didn’t want to. I’m not a selfless man, Tilly. Don’t go thinking there’s more to me than what you know.”

His warning didn’t convince her. Boone had a softer center than he let the world see. His care with her proved it. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder. “I don’t know how this will work is all. I want you. But I don’t know how Denny will fit. How I’ll manage to keep him out of trouble.”

“Leave it to me, Tilly. I’m not without resources. When there’s something I want as much as I want you, I’ll move mountains.”

She grunted, fingers toying with the buttons on his shirt. “There are no mountains in the bayou, Boone,” she muttered.

His chuckle shook her, and she smiled, happy to let him ease her worries, if only for a while.

The moment Tilly let herself out of his office, Boone went to the hidden door and entered the room where Serge sat, his feet propped on the desk.

Serge glanced his way and smirked. “Don’t worry, boss. I turned off the feed the second you pulled down her panties.” He cleared his throat, still not looking Boone’s way. “Didn’t see a thing.”

Boone gave him a glare, but couldn’t manage to muster a reproach. He was still too hard to think straight. He shook his head to clear the memories of what he’d just done. “Anything from Alejandro?”

Serge grunted. “Said the tracking device took them to Cancun then headed west into the jungle. Must have either found it or changed bags, because the signal stopped a few miles in. He has a team scrambling to pick up the signal from their last location and see if any of the locals can be bribed into committing suicide by ratting out the Omegas.” He shook his head in disgust. “Rotten business, that. Families will be lucky to get their bodies back for a proper funeral.”

Boone’s body tightened. Serge tended to see the bleak side of things, but Boone’s business was to create miracles. “We still have leverage. That final payment. They’ll keep them alive at least that long. In the meantime, we’ll grease some palms and see what might shake loose in Mexico City. Someone knows something. I don’t like trusting they’ll hold to the deal. They’re a ruthless bunch.” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “The handoff, if we can get them to agree on something public, will be tricky.”

Serge nodded, and then gave him a sly sideways look. “You really like that girl.”

Boone didn’t respond. Fact was, he did like Tilly. Liked her sense of humor, her wide-eyed curiosity, and especially how she’d responded to him just now.

When Boone answered, Serge gave a soft whistle. “Never thought I’d see the day. Was sure you’d marry some stuck-up cover model who’d bore you to tears and maybe agree to a kid or two so long as you paid for the plastic surgery to make her perfect again. I like Tilly.”

Boone settled into the chair beside Serge and sighed. “I hear a ‘but.’”

“Maybe it’s not the right time, boss. And maybe there’s more to Tilly than we know.”

Boone gave him a questioning look.

“That folder Jonesy found. I know he mailed photos to your phone. She’s been keeping it for years. It’s a little strange. Something that terrible happened to her cousin, you’d think she’d want to forget, but she’s obsessed with you and the murder.” His brows drew together. “You don’t find that disturbing?”

“If I’d known that before I’d met her, maybe. I know she’s keeping secrets, but she’s not very good at it. She doesn’t have a secretive nature. Whatever she’s withholding is eating her up.” His gaze locked with Serge’s. “My hope is that once she trusts me, she’ll confide.”

Serge’s mouth puckered, then drew into a straight line. “Like I said, I like her. And you know I don’t like many people. Just keep a little emotional distance. At least until you find out what she’s keeping from you.”

Giving him a vague nod, Boone settled into the seat beside Serge and dialed Alejandro in Monterrey. Anything but think about the fact Tilly might be lying. His stomach roiled at the thought. Whatever she was hiding, whatever she might be involved in, he hoped he’d be able to protect her. Her safety came first. But when all this was over, he hoped his faith in her would still be intact.

* * *

Tilly didn’t seek out Jonesy right away. She stopped by her cottage for her phone. Boone’s mention of Denny brought a jolting reminder that she hadn’t spoken to him for a couple of days, so she checked her messages. Nothing from him. And only one missed call. From Mae.

She stared at the number, feeling guilty over the way she’d left the woman high and dry. The only way to make it right was head to town and stop in at the restaurant. She dreaded seeing the older woman face-to-face and could already picture the condemnation in her dark eyes.

Mae had been good to her. Good to Denny. When Denny had still been living in Bayou Vert, she’d hired him as a busboy and dishwasher. Simple tasks he could perform, although Mae had to stand over him to see he did things right.

Denny had been pumped about having a job and a paycheck. He hadn’t understood that the wages didn’t go far enough to pay their bills and save their home. He’d thought he was rich because he had a check to bring home every week.

Thankfully, the garage door opened without requiring a secret decoder ring. Climbing into her car, she smiled, thinking about Denny’s pride over his pitiful paycheck, and missing her fuzzy bear. His hugs were uncomplicated, filled with unconditional love. Tilly hated that her relationship with Denny, at least from her side, was tarnished by the discovery of the bracelet. It ate her up inside that she couldn’t ask about where he’d found it. First, because she didn’t want to know whether he was the one responsible for Celeste’s death, although she couldn’t picture it. Sure, Denny did throw tantrums. And with his size and strength, but without the ability to hold back, she recognized full well the possibility existed that he could have lashed out at Celeste, who’d always goaded and teased him mercilessly. But where had he gotten the knife? It wasn’t something he’d have carried around with him. And if he’d slashed her, he wouldn’t have thought to hide it. He’d have panicked and said something…to someone. Wouldn’t he?

Second, she couldn’t ask him because whatever Denny got into his head, he repeated over and over. He’d never mentioned the bracelet, and might well have forgotten how he’d come to have it. Yes, he asked about his treasure box, but she didn’t think any one of his treasures meant more than the other. If she asked him pointedly about the one bracelet, he’d never shut up about it, and might mention it to someone who would recognize its significance, just as she had the moment she’d picked it up and held it to the light.

A delicate charm bracelet with golden bells attached and tiny hoppers that tinkled against the insides of the bells as the bracelet moved. Celeste had worn it in her prom photo. Worn it when she’d posed with the homecoming court, wearing her queen’s crown and looking radiant in a royal blue gown as she stood beside a tall and lanky Boone.

Tears welled, but it wasn’t really for sorrow over her cousin. She’d lived years with her death, even resenting the way it hovered in everyone’s minds and tainted her town.

She felt weepy for the fact she no longer trusted her brother, not when she couldn’t be certain he hadn’t been the one who’d killed Celeste. Maybe the bracelet didn’t mean a thing. Maybe Denny hadn’t killed her, but he’d certainly been there that night. He might know who else had been there.

It was odd, the fact she didn’t trust her own brother, but knew with all her heart that Boone hadn’t killed her. All because he’d shown her brother kindness all those years ago, her belief in him only cementing the more time she spent with him.

But what to do about Denny? She always felt like a lodestone of guilt weighed her down. He shouldn’t be a burden.

The restaurant loomed. Another worry to replace the one that would never go away. She pulled into a parking space and let herself out of the car.

A chirp of a siren sounded behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder.

Leon double-parked his sedan beside hers and exited his car. “Boone finally let you off your leash?”

Tilly planted a hand on her hip and glared. “Am I wearin’ a collar?” Good Lord, her cheeks blushed, because she wasn’t so sure that wasn’t where their activities were heading. But Leon couldn’t know that, could he? “Don’t be a jackass,” she muttered as he strolled toward her.

Leon came close, staring down at her, his gaze raking her slightly rumpled clothes.

She sincerely hoped he didn’t have an acute sense of smell. Not that she was ashamed to be taking up with Boone, but Leon had a thing against him and she didn’t want the added aggravation of his constant taunts.

“You look good, Tilly. Although I do miss the Daisy Dukes.”

Her lips twitched into a smile. “I was a little tired of my ass cheeks gettin’ sunburned.”

Leon laughed and pushed back his hat. “Heard you moved out there.”

She heard the question in his voice, knew he had his suspicions, but she wasn’t about to confirm them. What she was doing with Boone was none of his business. Strangely, she wasn’t embarrassed. A day ago, she might have blushed at this conversation. “I have the foreman’s cottage.”

“Seem a little weird, him puttin’ you up out there?”

Pretending a nonchalance she didn’t feel, she shrugged. “Most of his staff lives in the mansion for now. Not the local workers—they commute back and forth—but I don’t think it’s strange at all he wants me there.”

Leon gave her a pointed look. “Is he botherin’ you?”

Tilly shook her head, keeping her smile set and her eyes wide. “Boone doesn’t bother me, Leon. And fact is, I wouldn’t mind the attention.”

His expression quickly shuttered. “You be careful, hear?” he said, his voice deepening with his doubt.

“I always am. Don’t you worry about me.”

He lifted his chin toward the restaurant. “Can I buy you lunch?”

Relieved he’d dropped the interrogation and because she wanted to make nice, she smiled and nodded. “I’d like that, although I did come to talk to Mae. I left without giving notice. She might spit in our food,” she teased.

“She wouldn’t dare do that to an officer of the law,” he said, giving her a wink, and then he held open the door, waiting for her to enter.

Tilly took a deep breath and walked inside the cozy restaurant. Mae wasn’t anywhere in sight. Had likely spotted her through the window and gone to the kitchen to sulk. LeRoy Duhon, the bait shop owner, was the only customer inside, and he gave her a narrow-eyed stare. Tilly knew her moving to Maison Plaisir had made her the talk of the town. And not in a good way.

She glanced at the corkboard. A handwritten note was posted there:
WAITRESS NEEDED
. Mae had pinned it right over the latest of Jonesy’s notices. Notices she hadn’t bothered tearing down.

Tilly shook her head. She’d never understand the gruff woman. “Find us a couple of seats, Leon. I’ll go talk to Mae.” She straightened her spine and pushed through the swinging door, entering the kitchen.

“Only folks who work here are welcome in the kitchen,” Mae said, her voice surly, her gaze on the onions she chopped on the cutting board, her knife slicing with practiced ease.

“Mae, I’m sorry I didn’t give you notice,” she said quietly, hovering by the door. “I left you in a lurch. You have every right to be angry.”

Mae huffed a breath through her nose. “My baby’s dead ’cause o’ dat man, and you’re off gallivantin’—flyin’ to Mexico and havin’ a gran’ ole time—an’ she’s dead an’ in her grave.”

Tilly knew there was no use defending Boone. Not when Mae had been cultivating her hatred for him for all those years. “It’s a good job. One that’ll allow me to bring Denny home.”

Mae raised her head, but looked out the window to the restaurant rather than look at Tilly. “Don’ guess there’s anythin’ left to say. Don’ ever say I didn’ warn ya.”

Knowing she’d lost a friend, Tilly sighed. She had too few, and although Mae wasn’t a warm woman, she’d seen her through some tough times. Guilt settled in her tummy. “The sheriff invited me to lunch. If you want, I can serve up today’s special and take it out there.”

Mae’s shoulders straightened. “It’s my kitchen. Don’ need your help.”

Tilly backed away and pushed through the door. Regret ached inside her chest, but there was also relief. Mae had never been easy to be around. She held her anger and grief at the world too close. Both tainted her view of the world around her.

Leon raised his eyebrows as she settled in her chair. “She must have taken it well,” he drawled. “Didn’t sound like World War Three was breakin’ out.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I would’ve preferred if she’d thrown a hissy fit. I don’t think she’ll ever speak to me again.” Her eyes teared up, but she blinked away the moisture and pasted on a smile.

“She’s been lookin’ after you ever since you came back to town. I can’t see her stayin’ mad that long.”

Leon was trying to comfort her, which she found sweet, but she knew she’d burned a bridge with Mae. “She’s different than she was back then,” she said, unwilling to say her cousin’s name. “Harder. Even worse ever since Boone came back to town. Mutterin’ and morose.”

Leon’s expression grew pensive. “Has to be hard for her. She was Celeste’s nanny. That girl was her whole world.”

Her body went still. “Her death wasn’t easy on any of us, Leon. If I can get past it, why can’t the rest of y’all?”

Leon’s gaze drilled into her. “Because the rest of us aren’t walkin’ around with blinders, Tilly. The man who’s responsible for her bein’ dead is walkin’ around like he owns the place.”

Anger flushed her cheeks. She lifted her chin. She almost blurted that Leon had had more motive to kill Celeste than Boone had—he’d wanted Celeste too—but believing him a murderer was just as unfathomable. “It’s been fifteen years. Don’t you think if he had killed her, coming back here would be the last thing he’d do?”

Leon leaned forward and tapped the table. “He was a damn SEAL. He thinks he owns the place. And don’t think he hasn’t killed since—it’s just all legal-like now.” At her expression, he sank back in his seat, his gaze turning away. “I’m not sayin’ a man can’t change. I’m just sayin’ folks can’t forgive the fact no one ever paid for her death.”

A plate slid in front of Tilly, filled with dirty rice and beans, fried shrimp, and corn bread.

Spicy aromas swirled upward and tickled her nose. Tilly’s belly felt queasy, but she offered a smile as she tilted her face upward.

Mae’s stony expression didn’t relent. She slid a plate in front of Leon. “Anythin’ else you be needin’, Sheriff?”

“No, Mae. Smells good.” He smiled at her and reached for his fork.

Mae grunted and turned away, her feet clomping hard all the way back to the kitchen.

Leon whistled. “I see what you mean. Might wanna give her some space.”

Tilly’s shoulders slumped. “She’s not ever gonna forgive me.”