Full Throttle Yearning (8 page)

Charlie abruptly stopped. “Are you okay, Roxie?”

Her fake name on his lips sounded foreign and harsh. She resisted the strong urge to turn away, to murmur her real name, but forced herself to lick her lips instead to steady herself. “Yes,” she managed on an exhalation. She didn’t know whether he would take her affirmation at face value.

He frowned. “Roxie, if I’m hurting you then I need to stop. I’m not the kind of guy to force a woman.”

“I know that.” She dredged up a grin.

Unmoving, Charlie looked away, his features set in melancholy lines. Was he fighting something bad from his past? After all, wealth and luxury didn’t always bring happiness.

When his gaze returned to her, he said, “Why don’t we do a sixty-nine? Then both of us are in control.”

Roxie couldn’t help herself. Her eyes almost bulged out of her head. “No. I want you, just like this.” She clenched her vaginal muscles playfully around his cock to physically reiterate her message.

The sadness in his gray gaze dissipated and his lips curved in a smile even as tiny crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes. She was relieved he’d relaxed.

“I’m so wound up,” he told her, beginning to thrust deeply into her again.

Her eyes widened again in question.

“I’m with this beautiful woman and I’m scared as hell of making a mistake with her.”

Roxie placed her arms around his neck and drew his face closer to her own. “I don’t think you can make a mistake when it comes to me,” she murmured, pulling his head lower and pressing her lips against his. Some of his weight transferred to her, erotically squeezing her aching breasts. She shimmied under him and an inexplicable joy bubbled through her. Wasn’t she free? When she’d made love to Charlie she could simply leave, without regret.

Her spine rocked with his thrusting in and out of her pussy. She gave him a flirty smile and etched a fingertip along his right brow. The hair was so fine, so soft. Then she traced the contour of the bridge of his nose, and her whole body seemed to become a live wire of raw emotion.

Charlie’s face had scrunched up in a way that mirrored his intense concentration. Roxie shut her eyes and all the sounds and sensations around her were magnified. The little grunts of exertion from above her. The blood roaring through her veins. Her muscles tensing in anticipation and Charlie’s cock plunging in and out of her channel. She contracted her vaginal muscles and gripped him in a tight hold. His breathing was raspy and hoarse. He was about to climax. If she held on for just one more second, they’d explode together.

Charlie’s strokes were shorter. He was riding his own wave of happiness. With bated breath, she waited, but her self-control disappeared in the face of the pure pleasure of climax. A long, guttural groan, then the world fell away, replaced by sheer, tumultuous sensation. Rock faces split apart, the sky became blood red and grass was bluer than the water in a clear lake. Then, except for the pounding of Charlie’s heart intermingling with that of her own, there was silence.

Chapter Four

Charlie’s orgasm had been the most sustained and the most spectacular of his life. And he wanted another with Roxie. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks flushed a bright pink. Her eyelashes fluttered like tiny, dark wings. Had the sex been as good for her as it had been for him? He certainly hoped so. If she stayed with him—

That will never happen,
he thought morosely. Lifting his head onto one elbow, he brushed wild strands of hair from her face.

“Hmm?”

He laughed softly at her drowsy response. “I was thinking I’d like you to stay all night.”

Her eyes flashed open. Was there a hint of alarm in the depths of her blue gaze? Swiftly, her expression changed to one of regret. “I can’t. I’m on the early shift tomorrow.” She took a peek at her watch. The leather strap was fairly new, he noted, and the face was surrounded by small zircons—imitation diamonds. “It’s almost midnight. I’ve got to go.” She pushed away and sat on the edge of the bed.

Her long hair falling down her naked back was tousled and far too sexy for comfort. Should he try to stop her? Should he pull her down and make love to her again despite her protests that she had to leave? Her sweet, feminine scent filled his nostrils and his head began to spin. The fragrance was making it difficult for him to think, but he had to protect her from danger, from Rowter, from the motorcycle gang that was coming—

No.

He fell back on the bed and covered his eyes with his forearm. How could he have confused Roxie, almost a complete stranger, with his long-gone mother? Discomfort straddled the middle of his stomach. Had he conjured the need to safeguard her because of what had happened to his mother? In all the time he’d been at the bus stop he hadn’t seen one sign of anyone who might pose a threat to her. But then why had she escaped out of the diner’s back door? What was going on?

Quickly, before Roxie could glance over her shoulder and witness his moment of weakness, he caught her around the waist and pulled her down. “Make love to me again, Roxie. I need you.”

He was telling the truth. And afterwards he could figure out whether she really needed protection or whether he’d imagined that she did.

Despite herself, Roxie leaned back into Charlie. The room smelled of sex, of their natural body scents mingling, a heady fragrance. She’d heard the hard edge of pleading in his voice, but she had to get away. If she didn’t, she was very likely to want sex with him again, then her composure—what little she had in his presence—would evaporate. He was part of the world from which she’d fled, and she had no desire to return. He was all the things that were wrong with being wealthy, with being one of the elite. And if he knew everything, including when she was ready for his cock fitting inside her, then what else
didn’t
he know?

She wanted Charles Vernon with a passion bordering on obsession, but if she didn’t leave now, she might as well go back to her father.

She made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder at him, at his magnificently muscled body, at the rock-hard cock extended toward her so invitingly and temptingly. Heaving a deep sigh of regret, she barely jerked free of his tenacious hold and jumped to her feet.

“No, Charlie,” she snapped. “I’ve got to go.” She bent and retrieved her panties and tugged them up her ankles and her thighs. Then the pants, all as she avoided looking straight at him.

Languidly, he swung his feet over the side of the bed. “What can I say to make you stay?” His voice was hoarse with longing.

Her nipples betrayed her and budded into tight, painful peaks. She decided to try a ploy from the rare soap opera she’d seen. “Listen,” she said, drawing on her jacket. “Your world and mine don’t mix. Rich boys take poor girls and use them. The end.” She ran out of the room and down the stairs, feeling like Cinderella missing a glass slipper. When she reached her motorbike under the star-encrusted night sky, she breathed a heavy sigh of utter relief.

From the bedroom window, Charlie watched as Roxie started the bike and it roared to life, breaking the night’s silence. She pumped the gas several times before she finally raced off into the darkness. The noise gradually decreased until there was nothing but the chirping of crickets to be heard.

Raw emotion churned in his gut. He turned around and surveyed the bed on which he’d recently found comfort and joy. That whole speech about a rich boy and a poor girl had sounded awfully contrived. He’d heard enough lies in court to know, which once more confirmed his rising suspicion that Roxie was hiding something she didn’t want him to understand. This time he would act on his doubts, just as he would if a client had ordered him to leave no stone unturned. He lifted his cell phone and hit speed dial five, his friend the private eye, whom he trusted the most to keep a secret.

Off the freeway, in a well-lit parking lot, Roxie zoomed in alongside a new model pickup truck. She felt as if she were choking. How could she have left Charlie, saying what she had, after the best sex ever? He was one in a million, and of course she wanted more of him, but she’d left his world behind and she wasn’t sure he’d fit in to the one she’d made for herself.

She restarted the bike and headed for home. LA was a city that never slept, and even at midnight there was plenty of traffic on the freeway with her. Thankfully, it wasn’t crawling along in lanes that were bumper to bumper. Still, the drive took longer than she’d expected. She had plenty of time to think.

In her apartment, she sipped a refreshingly cold orange juice and leaned her hip against the counter. Next door, the neighbors were having a raucous party, but she shut out the sounds of laughter, shouts and crashes.

She had been attracted to Charlie from the first second she’d seen him. He seemed genuinely concerned about her welfare…and that struck her as odd coming from a man who maintained the lifestyle he did. She had to hit upon a new job so he wouldn’t be able to find her.

Why hadn’t he called her on the fact that she’d pretty much stolen his parking space earlier? Had the sex been so important to him?

Face it, Elizabeth Audrey Harrier. The sex was important to you too. You wouldn’t have gone out of your way to make the trip to Malibu if it hadn’t been. In the morning, you need to find a new job so Charlie can’t trace you.

The tall glass slipped in her hand and hit the sink with a loud crash. She hurried to clean up the mess, running water from the faucet.

I don’t know how I’ll tell Gerry. He’s been so kind to me, hiring me on right away, but I have to leave, even the notion isn’t sitting well with me. Charlie’s rich, he has the resources to find me if he wants. Just like Father—and why hasn’t
he
found me?

The question troubled Roxie. Her father, like Charlie, had every resource one could think of at his command. Then why not find the recalcitrant daughter? What part of the puzzle was she missing? She was intelligent, educated at an Ivy League school, yet she couldn’t figure out why her father did what he did. She laughed a little at that. Men were, quite probably, the greatest enigma ever.

The neighbors pounded several times on the wall adjoining the kitchen. Or
was
it the neighbors? Trepidation ran up and down her spine as she remembered the feeling of being watched earlier. Why hadn’t she felt those ominous eyes at Charlie’s as they made love?

She sighed and settled onto the cot with its light throw. Had Charlie been serious about doing a sixty-nine? She’d heard about it but never tried it. If he asked her again she’d go for it. But he wouldn’t find her.

Then again, she owed Gerry two weeks’ notice. Wouldn’t he raise his eyebrows at her decision to leave so soon?

As for Charlie, she’d have to handle him when he came in to the diner.

If he did.

Charlie waited in the alley behind Woody’s Diner. He’d quit smoking years ago, but this morning he’d bought a pack at a convenience store, then promptly thrown them away. Instead, he’d opted to suck on a strawberry crème candy he’d found in his glove compartment. His nerves were on edge and every muscle in his body was prepared to jump into action. He’d seen the sun rise in muted purple transmuting into vivid oranges, but he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he wasn’t doing enough for Roxie—or, as he’d discovered, Elizabeth Audrey Harrier.

He’d described Roxie to Eddie Jansen, wishing instead that he had a photo to email him. It had been a long shot, but after the astute PI had sent him several pics, Charlie had found the right woman. Her hair was dark brown but he’d have known those charming blue eyes and that kissable mouth anywhere.

“How did you know who I was talking about?” he asked Eddie, who was in Boston.

Eddie snorted. “You mentioned she was cultured and that alone ruled out about ninety-eight per cent of the population. After that I ran a cross-check of society women who’ve gone missing in the last six months, and there you are.”

Sounded easy enough. “That’s what I pay you for.” Charlie had laughed, but he’d become businesslike again in seconds. “Who’s after her that she’s hiding out and afraid to be found?” He’d heard Eddie riffling through several sheets of paper. Eddie printed everything out and didn’t trust electronic devices much.

“Several suitors, her father and the bodyguards he hired to protect her—and who, I might add, were doing a lousy job. And—this just popped up—a biker-looking fella with a rap sheet longer than your arm.”

Charlie finished for him. “Otis Rowter. Assault with a deadly weapon.”

“He’s the one,” the PI agreed. “I’ve talked to some associates and the strange thing is that he can’t be found.”

“Associates”, Charlie had learned, were Eddie’s contacts on both the right and the wrong side of the law. “I just did,” Charlie muttered. “Why is Elizabeth his special project?”

“Looks as if her father refused to help him front the medical bills for his only son, who was terminally ill. Now he’s on a vendetta of sorts.”

Charlie rubbed his chin in irritation. “I suppose he’s about to take away Harrier’s only daughter?”

“That’d be my guess.”

Charlie disconnected, tapping the
End
button on his cell phone as if it were the enemy. He’d roamed the blocks around the diner for half the night, been approached by several winos and a prostitute, but he’d found no sign of Roxie.

Now as he waited between the alley and the cross street, he worried. The sex with her had been phenomenal and he knew what she was hiding and why she’d left so quickly last night. She must have been afraid he’d find out who she was.

Then he saw her. Her glorious hair tied up in a chignon, the ever-present twinkling earrings and the jaunty walk, as if she were enjoying her moments of freedom. Her pale yellow sheath showed her figure off to perfection. She kept looking up at the sky, but a quick survey told him there was nothing unusual there. Of greater interest to him was whether there was someone following her. He stepped farther into the alley and watched keenly. The nearby cathedral bells pealed out the midmorning hour.

About to turn away, Charlie saw a slight flash, as of glasses glinting in the sunlight, before it vanished. It didn’t reappear. Had it been his imagination? Roxie was walking closer, a small smile of delight hovering on her lips. Apparently she was oblivious to the danger she was in.

Should he make his presence known or should he wait? If Rowter was behind her, had he known all along where she lived? Why hadn’t he acted when he’d been alone with Roxie, when he’d had the chance? Or would Rowter make his move in a public place to get attention for his heinous act?

Roxie had spent a restless night, alternately tossing and turning and listening for unfamiliar sounds before she’d fallen asleep and dreamed wicked daydreams about Charlie. Sixty-nine sounded so right—her tongue lapping at the tip of his cock and its pearly drop of moisture. Next, she’d be riding him with her hair flying out in a stiff breeze, then she’d be pinned under him, moaning as his huge shaft filled her until he could no more. As morning light came, the dreams had left her sweating and her mind saturated with erotic images. If Charlie had been anywhere near, she’d have jumped him.

But he wasn’t, and she was determined as she set out for work that he was part of her past. Yet it didn’t hurt to satisfy her longing by fantasizing about him, did it? The cathedral bells were ringing, and although it would make her late for work she stopped to listen, to admire the sound as it permeated the air. She’d miss this part of her day when she moved to another city, but what choice did she have? None that she could see.

The aroma of baking bread and pastries surrounded her. The alley lay in dark grayness. For some inexplicable reason, her heart began to race as she remembered the discomfort of that sense of being watched.