She screamed, her eyes flying open as he thrust his tongue deeply inside of her. Her h*ps twisted against his mouth and he licked his way up to her clit, his tongue swirling around and around.
“Stop! Kevin, I can’t. Not again.”
He ignored her, pulled her cl*t into his mouth and sucked as his hands cupped her beautiful ass and held her more firmly in place. She whimpered, then moaned, again and again, as he began to stroke her gently between her cheeks. His tongue speared inside of her at the exact moment his finger slipped into her anus and she came again, sobbing, clutching his hair and struggling for breath.
Kevin rode her through it, his mouth merciless in its possession of her. Moments later she came a third time, her body twisting, her breathing harsh, tears and sweat mingling as they ran down her face.
He reached for the condom she had picked up earlier, rolling it on and freeing her hands in a series of quick, coordinated movements. Within seconds he had spun her around, pulled her to her knees even as he thrust inside of her.
He groaned, seeing stars as her body clutched at his, the remnants of her orgasm milking his c**k again and again. But he didn’t want it to end yet, didn’t want to give up this connection he had to Serena. So he ignored the urgent need to come that clawed through him, concentrating instead on Serena’s incredible, unbelievable, unselfish response.
She gripped the rungs of the headboard, her body thrusting back against his as he pounded into her. Harsh sounds tore from his throat, high-pitched screams from hers as he thrust as deeply as possible. He reached his hand around her, found her cl*t and tapped. She shattered, her body going rigid as screams of surrender ripped from her throat. Her body clutched his tightly, her muscles contracting on his c**k again and again. He couldn’t hold back any longer and with a bellow of intense satisfaction he came, his body rhythmically emptying itself into her as he struggled desperately for breath.
Chapter Seven
Serena woke gradually, keenly aware of the empty spot beside her in bed. She rolled over and buried her face in Kevin’s pillow, loving the fresh, clean smell of him that lingered on the sheets.
Her body ached, but the feeling wasn’t an unpleasant one. Memories of the previous night clicked through her head; an erotic slide show that set her body humming all over again. She had made intense, glorious, wonderful love with Kevin and his warmth lingered inside of her.
Despite the warmth, she couldn’t help wondering if she’d done the right thing. Had she really given everything to Kevin last night? She was always in control, always took the dominant role in every aspect of her life—from her career to her relationships. In one night, Kevin had stripped that identity from her. He had seized control from her, had turned her inside out with the most intense, insidious pleasure she had ever experienced. And it had felt wonderful.
As the morning light of the bayou leaked through the closed blinds, she still felt wonderful. But she was no longer so sure that she had done the right thing. Her control, and the distance that it provided her, was the only thing that had kept her sane after Sandra’s death. Even her profession had helped her keep that distance. The world looked different through a camera lens—sharper, clearer, but also farther away. She’d needed that distance when she was seventeen, the ability to control her environment after it had been so violently disturbed. But she was older now. And wiser? She grimaced, not knowing the answer to that particular question.
How wise had it been to sleep with the subject of her latest project? How wise was it to let him strip her of every defense she had, leaving her standing, raw and naked, before him? But try as she might, Serena couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Kevin had opened her up to an entire world of feeling and sensation that she had forgotten about. He had, in one night, shattered the wall she had hidden behind for almost eleven years. Now she had to figure out if she could function without it. Did she even want to try?
Rolling over, she glanced at the clock. It was barely six, but Kevin was already gone. Though the tempting aroma of coffee drifted down the hall from the kitchen, she knew he wasn’t in the house. When he was around, the whole world seemed to pulse with the sensual energy that poured from him. And while her body was pleasantly humming from the most incredible sex of her life, she wasn’t melting into a boneless puddle of lust—something she seemed to do whenever Kevin was in the immediate vicinity.
Serena stretched her overworked muscles and climbed gingerly out of bed. She’d bet that he was in his studio, blasting away, and she would give anything to be able to catch some candid photos of him. Admittedly, he always worked like he had no idea she was around, but what would he be like if he really didn’t know she was there?
She rushed through her shower, ran a comb and some gel through her wet hair before slipping into a pair of jeans and a tank top. She started to put on the long-sleeve shirt that had been part of her “uniform” her entire adult life, but then discarded it. Kevin had already seen everything she had to offer. What good would her armor do her now?
A quick stop in the kitchen yielded a cup of coffee and, of course, a Twinkie. With an even quicker stop at her car for her camera bag, she was ready to go. Pausing for a moment, she looked around the bayou that surrounded Kevin’s house—everything seemed greener, more vibrant than it had during her first trip. A few pictures wouldn’t hurt, she thought. After all, this was Kevin’s domain and it said a lot about the man that he would choose to live in the middle of an alligator- and snake-infested swamp.
She brought her camera up, snapped a quick picture of a raccoon half-hiding behind a tree. A hummingbird sipping nectar from a flower. Kevin’s well-kept house. The great iron sculpture that sat a little to the right of the driveway. There was so much to see here, so much that explained a little more about who Kevin was and what he wanted.
She snapped another picture of the sculpture, then another. It was immense. Ten feet tall and at least four or five feet wide, it was an abstract piece full of sharp angles and long, thin spears. She zoomed in, taking picture after picture. The whole piece, sections, a particularly intriguing angle. The closer she got to it, the more she studied it, the more she grew to believe that she was studying Kevin’s soul. Why was this piece, in particular, standing in front of his house? What did all the angles mean, all the confusing twists?
Serena lowered her camera slowly. She looked at the sculpture without the distance provided by her camera lens and felt a deep, erotic pull—in her stomach and her womb. All sharp angles and wavy lines, myriad pieces and disconnected shapes—with one look, she knew that this was Kevin. She was sure of it. And while she didn’t know what all the different pieces meant yet, she knew that if she could figure out this sculpture, she could figure out the enigma that was Kevin Riley. That was what she needed—for the book and for herself.
Her pocket began vibrating—and for a few seconds she stood, actually frozen in fear. Let it go, she told herself. You don’t have to deal with this now. Not on top of everything else going on. She hesitated—hand over her pocket—until with a sigh of derision she flipped the phone open.
She’d spent too much of her life in fear—afraid of the dark, of commitment, of dying and of surviving. She’d be damned if she’d be afraid of her stupid cell phone too. Or the sick and twisted psychopath on the other end.
“Hello.” Her voice was clipped, abrupt, but she couldn’t help it. Any more than she could make herself look at the caller ID. If it was him she didn’t want to know one second before she had to.
“Serena.”
All the tension inside of her poured out in a big sigh of relief. “Jack. How are you?”
“Actually, I was just about to ask you that question. I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop what happened yesterday.”
She sank onto the top step of Kevin’s porch with a small sigh. “It’s not your fault—I guess it was stupid to even get our hopes up.”“Not stupid, Serena. Human. I really thought, maybe—”
“I know.” She interrupted him before he could finish. She couldn’t bear to hear the words out loud. Not yet when the wound was still so raw. “Nothing we said would have made any difference. The LaFleurs—” She broke off, a bitter taste in her mouth.
Jack hesitated, and she could tell he wanted to say more. But he must have known how she felt, because at the last second he changed the subject. “Well, then, if you’re feeling up to it, I’d love to take you to lunch. It’s a great day for it.”
She couldn’t hold back the grin—that was good old Jack for you. Always a gentleman, even when you didn’t deserve it. She pictured the young, senior ADA perfectly—dressed in a suit, seated behind his desk, his hands steepled in front of him while he spoke on speaker phone. Just the kind of man she usually dated—cool, professional, casual. Not that she’d ever consider dating him—way too much history there. Besides, in the years after Sandra’s death, he’d become a friend. But he was definitely her usual type—too polite to dig too deep, too nice to make her face things she’d rather ignore.
Not like Kevin, who pushed and prodded until she gave him everything. Who paid no attention the boundaries she set—for her mind and her body. Who ripped through any and all barriers she erected between them. Kevin, who was a lot of things—incredibly hot, unbelievably sexy and terribly brooding—but who could never be called casual. Or nice.
“Serena.” Jack’s voice interrupted her reverie. “Are you still there?”
“I’m here, Jack.” She cursed herself. She’d never drifted off in the middle of a conversation before she met Kevin Riley. He—obviously—was having a horrible influence on her. “But I’ll have to take a raincheck on lunch. I’m not in Baton Rouge right now.”
“Really? Where are you then?”
“In the bayou, about three hours out.”
“That’s right—you told me. The book on Kevin Riley.”
“Exactly.”
“So, how’s that going? Is he as difficult as everyone makes him out to be?”
She shrugged before she remembered he couldn’t see her. “I don’t know. He’s certainly not easy.”
“The best things in life never are.”
She snorted before she could stop herself. “What are you—a Hallmark card?”
He answered with such a careful show of affronted dignity that she knew it was fake. “I was simply explaining that sometimes one has to work for happiness.”
The laughter bubbling in her throat died abruptly. “You’re kind of preaching to the choir, don’t you think, Jack? If you want to use old euphemisms, I mean.”
“Oh, Serena, I didn’t mean it that way.” There was a long silence in which she could tell he was trying to decide how to get around the elephant that had suddenly entered the room. The silence stretched—along with her nerves—until she couldn’t take it any longer.
“Jack—”
“Serena—”
They both laughed as they tripped over each other’s words and the awkward moment ended. “Well, how long are you going to be out there? We’ll have lunch when you’re back in town.”
“I’ve still got a couple of weeks, at least. But that would be wonderful. It’s been a while since we’ve talked about anything but the parole hearing.”
“That’s true.” His voice was suddenly much more subdued. “I am sorry, Serena—”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault but the people in that room and the LaFleur family. You’ve been wonderful—through everything.”
“Not wonderful enough, obviously, or Damien—”
“Stop.”
“But—”