[Kingdom 01.0 - 03.0] Kingdom Series Collection Page 17

  Her skin tingled, but not from the cold. He was looking at her. She felt the heated press of his eyes like a hot brand.

  “Don’t look.” She kept her eyes down and her head low as she ran down the sidewalk, rain smacked her in the face like tiny needles and she winced. This was a miserable night to be out. Where would he sleep this time?

  Betty bit her lip and all her plans went to pot when she glanced over her shoulder. He wasn’t looking at her as she’d expected, instead, he was looking at the old tree and wearing the fiercest scowl she’d ever seen.

  He had his arms wrapped around his body and jeez... she just couldn’t do it. She’d never treat a homeless person this way, she wouldn’t do it with him either.

  Betty marched back to him, stopping only when she got to the bench. This was so dumb. What if he was a deranged lunatic? People didn’t just sit outside for two days, sleep on a park bench overnight even-- without some serious issues.

  “What?” he growled, turning his frosty glare on her. “Come to crow some more?”

  Her lips tipped and she held her purse over her head, trying to ward off the rain-- but it was useless, rain ran down the back of her neck and under her jacket. She shivered. “Look, you shouldn’t be out here tonight. Don’t you have some place to go? Somebody to stay with?”

  And though his bottom lip was still healing, and looked angry and swollen where it’d been busted, he still had the most sensual lips she’d ever seen. Her stomach fluttered remembering the feel of them this morning.

  Betty glanced at the dark green sky. This was tornado country, it wasn’t unheard of to have twisters come down unexpectedly and wreak havoc out of the seeming blue.

  That’s when she heard it-- the soft ping of hail hitting asphalt. She winced. They had seconds before they started getting pelted too.

  “Dammit,” she grabbed his hand and tugged, “come on!”

  She knew he could shake her off if he wanted to, but he didn’t. It was a two hundred yard sprint to her car and by the time they’d made it to her beat up Toyota, she’d already been waylaid by four golf ball sized chunks of ice.

  “Enfer,” he growled, “what type of sorcery is this? Ice from the sky?”

  Betty heard his mutters, wondered at the strangeness of it, and just as quickly dismissed it. The man was nuts and she needed to get him away from here and away from her. The sooner the better. She shoved her key in the lock, wishing yet again for the funds to buy a car with an automatic unlock button and swung her door open just as another cold stone bit into her cheek.

  She muttered as she reached over to unlock his side.

  His big frame took up all the passenger space and then some. His knees pressed tight to the dash and his arms were bent at the shoulders, large hands in his lap. He looked like a sardine in a tin can, but a sardine had never looked so sexy.

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it. It bubbled up from her belly and spilled from her mouth. At first he scowled harder, which of course, only made her laugh harder.

  Then his lips twitched. “This is ah... comfortable?”

  She snorted and grabbed a napkin out of her purse to mop up some of the wetness dripping from the tips of her bangs. “You look--” She shook her head. “It’s all your fault.”

  The stern lines framed his eyes again.

  “Who told you to get so big anyway?” she teased.

  Once he seemed to realize she wasn’t mocking him, he visibly relaxed and the sexy as sin grin tipped the corners of his mouth, killing her laughter instantly.

  Gorgeous. So gorgeous. Heat settled in her cheeks, and she shifted on her wet car seat, trying to ignore the sudden heat slithering down her belly through her thighs.

  Betty distracted herself by glancing in the rearview mirror, pretending to dry off, to try and forget her reckless attraction to the man.

  But it was useless, and so was drying off. She needed to get home and change. She tossed the crumpled napkin onto the dash and cranked the car. Blasting the air to heat, she sighed as the warmth penetrated through her chilly skin.

  They drove in silence. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but he was looking out the window with a grim set to his stubbled jaw.

  Betty licked her lips. Wanting to hear some sort of sound, she clicked on her stereo and groaned when the childish blare of “I love you. You love me...” crackled through her speakers.

  He curled his nose, his eyes wide with horror, and she giggled. “Umm... oops, Briley’s tape. Forgot he left that here.” She popped the cassette tape out and switched it to FM. Some song about ‘I want to rock your body all night long’ came on and she sighed. Not much better. She turned the volume down until it was nothing but background noise.

  Betty drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, easing through the empty Lebanon streets, headed toward her brother’s house. He might not wake up for a phone call, but he’d wake up if she pounded on the door.

  “Who’s Briley?” McHotster asked, his voice low and growly.

  A crime how sexy that was, and how much she wished she could hear it in the morning. She shook the silly thought aside, shifting gears to slow down for the red light.

  She looked at him, he was looking back out the window. “He’s my nephew.” She smiled. “He’s going to be eleven next week.”

  He didn’t say anything. Betty bit her lip, tasting the strawberry sweetness of her lip gloss.

  “I wouldn’t have been caught dead listening to such infantile music at that age,” he mumbled and she bristled. He didn’t know, and that was the only thing that stayed her tongue.

  She counted to ten before she trusted herself to speak. “I don’t even know your name.”

  He looked back at her, his eyes wary. “And that’s a problem because?”

  Her eyes widened and she gripped the wheel until her knuckles whitened, but she was proud her voice did not betray her shock at his blunt way. She turned left, heading down the tiny two lane country road toward her brother’s one bedroom farm house. Trees, appearing like black specters in the moonlight, framed either side of the road. The rain had trickled down to a fine mist and it felt like driving through a fairy tale. The teal and navy blue sky twinkled with starlight, the full moon filled the sky like a giant golden orb.

  Her heart sped with the driving thought that this was a great place to be abducted and raped. Fear turned her words sharp.

  “Look, I’m trying to be a good Samaritan here. I could have just called the cops, but I didn’t. You’ve been loitering on our grounds, scaring away the customers and I just want to know the name of the man who--” Betty gasped, and then paused, realizing her near mistake. What she’d almost said, almost admitted.

  The tilt of his head and narrowing of his eyes spoke volumes. She scrunched down on the seat, stepping harder on the gas.

  “Who what?” His accent went supersonic gravelly and her nipples hardened. Betty felt like one of Pavlov’s dogs-- ring a bell and it’s time for food-- except in this case it was hear that deep French burr and her body tingled with a hot rush of sexual arousal. Gah, she’d never been so turned on by the sound of a man’s voice before.

  He shifted his muscular frame and she hated how aware of him she was. His clothes were still the same horrible things from the day before, ripped, tattered, and sexy as hell. She bit her tongue and his eyes danced with light.

  “Turned you on,” he said, his finger trailed feather light along the back of her hand and she jerked the wheel hard to the left, the tires squealed as she pulled to the side of the road. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

  Perfectly shaped teeth bit his perfectly shaped lips and...

  “I could smack you!” Betty parked her car and flicked his hand off. “Do you always have to get so... so, grabby? Ugh!” She wrapped her arms around herself.

  Cocky arrogance touched his face and she gnashed her teeth. Had she learned nothing from James?

  “Don’t tell me you don’t like my touch, femme vipere. I tasted the swe
etness of your surrender, you lie to say you do not.”

  Angry, ashamed, she panted for breath as her nails dug into her palms. “One, don’t call me a viper. So not the way to get on my good side. Two--”

  He raised his brow, seeming more amused by her than offended. She trembled, but she wasn’t exactly sure it was just from rage because he was leaning in again. Absorbing all the oxygen in her bubble, the heat of his body snapped across her skin with the shock of static.

  “T... two,” she stuttered and he pushed his finger against her lips.

  “Has anyone ever told you, you’ve the voice of a harpy--” Betty sucked in a sharp breath, “but the lips of a succulent sweet fruit?” He said the last with his lips feathering across hers and she was going to slap him.

  Any second now.

  “I... I.” Was all she got out when his lips pressed hard and firm and with a desperate moan she opened her mouth, hating him, herself, and all of mankind.

  His large hands framed her face, so gentle and warm while his mouth plundered hers. His tongue swept in and she tasted him and how he tasted of brandy and cherry pipe smoke, she’d never know and at the moment, could give a rat’s patootie. All she knew was she wanted more.

  Betty nipped at his lip and though he hissed, he didn’t pull back and neither did she. What was he doing to her? She wrapped her hands around the back of his head, twining his thick wet hair around her fingers. Now he was running his big hand down her arm and somehow, he’d unbuttoned her jacket and was now stroking the front of shirt. Touching her, molding his fingers around her heavy breasts and she flexed her body, opening up to him.

  A sound like a whimper rang in her ears. She struggled to pinpoint where it came from only to start with a jerk when his fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt. His touch burned a path straight to her aching core.

  There went that whimper again and this time she was startled to realize it was coming from her. She pushed against his chest, his muscle slid beneath her palm and it was a little bit of torture to push him away.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, leaning her forehead against his as she struggled for breath. “You can’t keep doing that.”

  “Gerard.” He said simply and sat back.

  “Do what?” Betty looked at him. His hair poked up where she’d twirled it. He scrubbed a fist down his face.

  “My name. It’s Gerard.” He didn’t breath heavy, his face was calm, and without the slightest hint that he suffered the same internal turmoil she did. He’d rocked her world, she might as well have been a weed in his garden for all that he noticed her.

  She licked her lips, still tasting him. “No last name?”

  He growled, shoving his fingers like forks through his messy hair. And though he still bore bruises and looked frightening as hell when he scowled, Betty knew James had nothing on Gerard. This man was a woman’s wet dream made manifest.

  “I’m not asking for your hand, Madam. Why do you insist on knowing me?”

  Aaand now she could think again. “Wow, you really are a jerk. Oh no wait,” she tapped her jaw, “you’re a misogynistic jerk. Twice now you’ve shoved your tongue down my throat...”

  Gerard snorted. “You’re not the one who bares the love marks.” He patted the back of his head. “I’d say you were shoving that delicious tongue of yours down my throat as much or more.” He sat back, and though cramped, he still managed to look like a king relaxing on his throne.

  Anytime Betty got mad as a kid, her dad would always tease and say, ‘watch that one percent, Betty, its explosive’. One percent meaning the negligible drop of Panamanian blood flowing through her veins, that hot Latin temper that could spark a flame with just one word. Normally, she could breathe through it, but not tonight, not with him.

  “Fine, you wanna play that game, fine. Yes, I think you’re hot. Beyond hot. You’re every girl’s wet fantasy come true.”

  His smile grew wider and she could just see that already enormous ego inflating.

  “You’re also a pig...”

  He frowned.

  “A stranger, and if it wasn’t for the fact that my mom raised me to help those less fortunate than myself, I’d have left your sorry ass back there.”

  “Ah.” He flicked his wrist in a gesture of dismissal. “Leave me, take me, I don’t give a damn. I’ll be gone soon and then I won’t have to worry about you, this world, or any other damn stupid, meddlesome, conniving...”

  She froze, latching onto one thing. “What do you mean this world?” Betty had seen first-hand the effects of suicide on a family. Was that why he’d been sitting out there for two nights? Contemplating his end? He didn’t seem the type, but then again, neither had Trisha’s sister. Sometimes you could never tell.

  He shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  Betty eyed the beefy Frenchman. Not able to understand one bit her burgeoning obsession with the man. “Try me,” she dared him with lifted brow.

  “Non.” Gerard went back to staring out the window and though she didn’t know him from Adam, she was pretty sure if he said ‘non’ than it was no. “Leave me, or let us go. I care not,” he muttered. That more than anything proved his non-dangerous status.

  Weird, yes. Hot, without a doubt. A knife wielding psycho-- probably not.

  Suddenly it seemed pointless to drive out to her brother’s. He’d be dead to the world, exhausted from his long shift, and not a little ticked off with her for bringing a big burly man to his doorstep just to dump him off so she could appease her conscious. Not to mention the fact that she suddenly felt an inexplicable urge to keep Gerard by her side.

  He was probably spouting off nonsense, with no intention of killing himself, but she’d always promised herself that if she should ever be able to help someone contemplating suicide, she’d do it.

  With a long sigh, suddenly exhausted and more than ready for a long, hot soak, she started her engine and turned the car back toward town.

  She expected him to ask where she was headed. But he didn’t speak another word for the five miles it took them to get to her townhouse.

  She punched in her code to open the gate and pulled into her assigned parking spot.

  “C’mon,” she huffed, grabbing her purse.

  He looked around with pursed his lips, and with a powerful heave, managed to extract himself from the car.

  Betty walked to her bright red door, potted plants lined her stoop. “Home sweet home,” she said, swinging the door open and stepping back to let him in.

  “This is your home, then?”

  She bit her lip. Maybe it hadn’t been the right thing to bring him here. But apart from Trisha, she didn’t really have that many friends. What if he thought she was asking for a booty call?

  Her cheeks flamed at the thought and she muttered a quick explanation. “It’s late, and I thought maybe you’d like some dinner.”

  His face lit up like a little boy’s on Christmas morning. “Gods yes,” he groaned, “I could eat a horse.”

  Chapter 20

  The fille looked around like a cornered rabbit, darting quick glances over his shoulder, over hers, as if uncertain of her decision to bring him into her home.

  “I’ll not kill you if that’s your worry,” he said with a grin.

  She stopped moving, her brown eyes widened and she held up her hands as if to ward him off. “Why did you say that? I didn’t think that. Did I make you--”

  Her voice had shot to a high pitched squeak and he pressed his finger to her lips, stilling her. Gerard found himself intrigued by the quirky proud woman who reeked of fear and yet stood her ground. Not that he wouldn’t mind a quicker capitulation than this-- but he’d learned the prize was often made sweeter by the chase.

  “Mon petite,” he traced the line of her heart shaped chin with his thumb, his body responding to the barely discernible trembles running through her, “women are like a fine wine, meant to be savored slowly and often.”

  Her ears blushed a deep s
hade of pink, Gerard chuckled and touched the hot tips; he’d never known a woman’s ears could flush scarlet.

  She grabbed his hand, stopping his caress and her voice was a low throaty chuckle. He knew women, knew when they were sexually aroused and though her lips said no, her body told the true story.

  “Frenchmen and their wine, next thing you’ll be telling me is I taste of escargot.”

  He wrapped his hand around the finger she pointed into his chest. “And butter. Don’t forget the butter,” he teased, “escargot, wine, and butter.”

  “The French trinity.” She snorted and the curve of her luscious lips told him she fought the laugh. “I brought you here to eat, to have a warm bed for one night. That’s all. No seductions.” She stepped out of his arms. “One night, Gerard. Period. So don’t get too cozy here.”

  Gerard smiled. But it wasn’t just any smile, it was the slow spread of lips, the narrowing of eyes, and the tilt of his chin that he used like a weapon against her. He’d won many hearts by simply being patient.

  “As you say, Madam,” he purred; his raspy growl grew even deeper and caused her pupils to dilate.

  Let the woman believe herself in charge. That was the trick. Make her feel secure in her power and she’d never know the seduction had ever happened until she was in bed with him. By that point she no longer cared about nonsense like roses and words of affirmation. She’d take whatever he gave, but what he gave was plenty good. None had ever been less than satisfied. At least in that, Gerard succeeded.

  She bit her bottom lip. The lass was truly delicious, a tempting mix of minx and innocence. His heart beat hard at the thought of finally making her his.

  “What is your name?” Why was he asking that? He didn’t care. Truly. It didn’t matter and yet his entire body tingled with the need to know. This had to be Betty Hart, of all the women he’d seen, only she intrigued him on a visceral level.

  Her lips quirked. “If you’re nice, maybe I’ll tell you.”