Winter (Four Seasons #1) (35 page)

A scandalous
grin spreads across Luke’s face. He reaches down and hooks his
hands beneath my thighs, lifting me up in one smooth movement so
that I’m wrapped around his waist.

“
I’m sorry, no
matter how much this turns me on, the shirt has gotta go,” he
groans. I have just enough time to lift my arms before he rips his
shirt off my body, making me squeak a little. Not sexy at all, but
Luke doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy devouring my cleavage
with his eyes. His pure lust makes me uncharacteristically brave. I
hook my thumbs under my bra straps and tug them forward, biting my
bottom lip.

“
Want me to
lose this, too?” I run my hands down over the front of my bra and
Luke’s whole body shakes. His erection presses insistently into my
stomach, even more evident when he takes three large steps and
slams me roughly up against the wall.

“
You’re asking
for trouble, y’know that?”

I do know. And
I’m not asking. I’m begging. “Please, Luke. Tell me what you
want.”

Then something
happens. A shadow flashes across his eyes. Hesitancy? He pulls back
a little. Takes a deep breath. I’m losing him. What the hell? No
freakin’ way. I reach around and unclasp my bra, sliding the straps
off my shoulders. Luke sucks in another deep breath, except this
one isn’t cautious. It’s urgent. Desperate.

“
Ave, you’re
so beautiful. I can’t wait…” He dips his head and sucks one of my
nipples into his mouth, running his tongue over and over the
hardened tip. I arch my back, curving into him, just as desperate
myself. I fumble between us, struggling with his belt. Takes me two
attempts before I have it undone and yanked out of his jeans
entirely. After that I make short work of his pants, pushing them
down over his hips.

“
I want you
inside me, Luke. Now.”

Those must be
the magic words. Luke doesn’t even bother pulling my panties down.
He rips them off me like they’re made out of tissue paper, not
incredibly expensive lace, and then they’re gone. I’d be annoyed if
I weren’t as frantic as he is. He slides a hand down the front of
his boxers and then I feel him against me. Holy shit, he’s going
to…

My mind goes
blank. He pushes inside me, and in this position I’m so stretched
and completely full. My nerve endings fire delicious darts of heat
through me, scattering any hope I might have of coherent thought.
Luke makes a pained noise in the back of his throat and stills his
body.

“
Are you
okay?” he whispers. My whole body has gone stiff. Then I realize—he
thinks he’s hurting me. I can’t answer him. I wrap my arms around
the back of his neck again and smash my lips to his, breathing
heavily into his mouth instead. I can’t help it; I have to move. I
start rocking up and down on him, using the wall as
leverage.

“
Avery!
Fuck!”

This is all I
need to hear. It hasn’t escaped me that Luke hasn’t put a condom
on, but at this exact second in time I couldn’t care less. He feels
incredible. I tighten my legs around him, riding him
harder.

“
Come inside
me, Luke. I want to feel you come.”

Luke pulls
back to look at me, fixes me with his eyes. “Are you
sure?”

I nod,
clinging to him, forcing him inside me as hard as I can. “I want
you. I want to feel everything.”

And he so
does.

Twenty Eight

Sucker
Punch

THE
SOFT
whoomf
of
snow sliding from the roof wakes me. I’m tangled in Luke’s arms,
and the gentle sounds of his breathing sends an alien jolt of
happiness through me. I shouldn’t be happy. I should be stressed
out and terrified. I’m back in Breakwater for crying out loud. I’m
seeing my mother today, because Brandon is
in jail
. Okay, so maybe I am freaking
out a little bit, but in this tiny second, with the silence of the
outside world and Luke holding me so close—I really am happy. How
is that even possible?

A tap at the
door finally wakes Luke. My peaceful moment is gone the second he
jumps out of his skin, but I’ve already stored it away, ready to
call on it when I need a moment of sanity.

“
You two awake
in there?” Laney calls through the door. Luke makes a non-committal
groaning noise. Apparently that means yes in the Reid household
because Laney comes right on in. I nearly elbow Luke in the face
trying to make sure I’m covered up.

“
Jeez, mom!
What the hell?” Luke yells.

I peer over
the top of the comforter, grimacing when I see my bra and
torn—torn!—underwear lying on the floor.
Oh, dear God in Heaven, please let ground swallow me up
now.
Laney grins at us. She’s brandishing
two cups of coffee.

“
Well now, you
two kept me up most of the night. I figured you might need
something to give you a bit of energy this morning.”

Luke slumps
back against the pillows, closing his eyes. “Just get out, mom.”
Laney shrugs, still grinning. She starts to leave but he stops her.
“Hey. Leave the coffee.”

She set the
cups down and
winks
at me, then leaves. We can hear her laughing across the other
side of the house.

******

“
You look like
you’ve been sleeping rough, Avery. Don’t you own a hair brush
anymore?” I’ve been in my mother’s presence for all of thirty
minutes and she’s already criticized my jacket, my teeth and now my
hair. She also said my flushed cheeks are unladylike. It’s minus
twelve degrees, so I don’t know what she expects me to do about my
rosy cheeks. Or why they are unladylike in the first
place.

She is also
disapproving of my hand-holding with Luke, although that
disapproval is of the silent variety. Pursed lips, narrowed eyes,
sharp as razor blades, whenever he isn’t looking. I already want to
slap her. Laney offered to let her sleep in their spare room but my
mother none-too-politely declined, saying that she needed room to
spread out her work and the Reid’s place just wasn’t big enough. As
a result, she is spending two hundred and eighty dollars a night at
the Cliffson’s bed and breakfast, paying for all five bedrooms,
because she refuses to have anyone else stay there while she
is.

She’s never
really liked Breakwater, wanted to escape as soon as she and my dad
were done with college, but my grandparents on my dad’s side both
fell sick at the same time, and naturally my dad wanted to stick
around. Mom always held it against him. Dad was nursemaid, cook and
cleaner to my grandparents for four years while they slowly
deteriorated, until Amanda had insisted they go into assisted
living. Gran died two weeks later of a heart attack, and then Pops
six months after her from pneumonia. My dad hadn’t been present to
say goodbye to either of them. And all my mother could say was,
“It’s for the best, Maxwell. At least now you can get full time
work and use that teaching degree of yours.” She’d said teaching
degree like it was a dirty word. Like my dad’s job hadn’t carried
them for years while she was studying law and putting in crazy
hours, never at home. My dad had just smiled and taken it. He was a
saint like that.

“
I’m not
staying in that police station any longer than I have to. I’m going
to choke down the swill the diner tries to pass off as coffee and
read over these notes.”

Luke shoots
daggers at my mom and parks up Brandon’s beater in the lot in front
of the diner. He doesn’t even need telling; Amanda St. French does
not open her own car doors. He gets out and opens her door,
gesturing grandly for her as she climbs out and teeters on her
ridiculously impractical, tall heels.

“
Avery, give
me your cell phone. Mine doesn’t get reception here. Tell whoever’s
on the front desk at the station to call when they’re ready for
me,” she says through the window. Since she’s technically paying
for it, it is kind of her cell phone. I buzz down my window and
hand it over. “You and I need to have a little chat later,” she
says under her breath. Her blonde, immaculate hair, down to her
mid-back, swings from side to side as she manages to power walk
through the snow into Jerry’s diner. Luke turns and looks at me,
hands held out.
What the hell?

I get out of
the back seat where I was relegated and clamber into the front.
Luke climbs in, still shaking his head. “She’s a real piece of
work. I don’t remember her being like that when I was a
kid.”

“
Yeah, well
she was a lot nicer to people she thought she could get something
from. Maybe your mom’s position on the PTA bought her some brownie
points or something.”

“
Yeah. Or
something.”

We check in at
the police station but they won’t let us see Brandon. Apparently
Chloe was given hell for letting us see him yesterday.

“
That Cosgrove
bitch chewed my ear off for twenty minutes,” she laughs. “I think
I’ll be copping traffic duty for the foreseeable.”

“
Sorry, Chlo.”
Luke looks beyond contrite; traffic duty must really suck. Chloe
shrugs it off. “Ahh, it’s okay. Anything for you kids.” She reaches
out and plucks something from my jacket. “Stray hair,” she says,
shrugging. You guys are welcome to come over to my place for dinner
tomorrow night if you like? The place certainly isn’t New York
standards, but it’s warm and I really know how to fry a steak. What
d’you think?”

Dinner is the
last thing on my mind. Luke accepts, saying we’ll confirm once we
know what’s happening with Brandon. On the way out of the station,
Agent Cosgrove passes us in the hallway. She locks eyes with me and
I swear icicles form on my breath. Back at Luke’s house, his
sister’s home and squeals like a banshee when we walk through the
door. She launches herself at him, grinning from ear to ear. They
share so many familiar features—same dark hair, dark eyes, quirky
way of smiling. It’s impossible to ignore that they are siblings.
Even though she’s Luke’s younger sister, Emma was still two years
above me in high school. She was popular, a cheerleader, but always
a lot kinder than the other girls. She grins when she sees me,
drawing me in for a big hug. “Good to see you, Iris,” she says,
giving me a genuine smile. “I trust my brother’s been taking good
care of you?”

I give him a
look, screwing up my nose, pretending to think about that. Luke is
mock-offended until I say, “You know what, he
has
been taking good care of me. The
best.” The curve of his smile seems to promise an extra special
taking care of later, which makes my cheeks burn.

The telephone
call from my mother comes at midday, only three hours after we
dropped her off. Luke holds out the Reid’s old school Bakelite
corded handset like my mom is liable to bite him down the
phone.

“
Hello?”

“
They’ve got
no grounds to keep him.” She dives straight in. No hello, nothing.
“He’ll be out this time tomorrow. They’ve got a warrant to search
his house but they’re not going to find anything. I’ve advised
Brandon he might have grounds to sue, but the bull-headed man won’t
listen to—”

I hold my hand
up, like she can actually see me. “Wait, so he’s not going to
prison? They can’t pin anything on him?”

Mom’s
frustrated sigh rattles down the phone. “That’s what I just said,
isn’t it?”

Relief surges
through me, powerful and overwhelming. “So what does that mean? Do
they still think Dad was responsible?”

“
I don’t know,
Avery. That’s not why I’m here. I came as counsel to your uncle
Brandon and I’ve done my job. Any other elements pertaining to this
case are not my concern.”

I’ve been calm
about my mother’s overblown hatred for my father for so long now
that I almost accept this statement from her. But my clenched jaw
and my bubbling fury won’t let it slide this time. She’s
unbelievable. “How the hell can you say that? You know they’ve got
evidence that could prove Dad is innocent, right? Shouldn’t you
want to try and take a look at that evidence? You’re a terrible
mother but you’re an excellent lawyer. You just got this thing with
Brandon pretty much ironed out in less than three hours. Don’t you
think you might be able to work the same magic?”

My mother
snorts. “You’re not a kid anymore, Avery. There’s no such thing as
magic. There’s black and there’s white. Guilty and innocent. Your
uncle Brandon is innocent, which is why I can ‘iron out’ his
problems in under three hours. No amount of pouring over federal
files is going to make your father any less guilty.”

“
You’re
unbelievable!” I grip hold of the phone so hard it creaks, like it
might shatter any second.

“
No, I’m a
realist. I know what your father was like. And I also know what
that new boyfriend of yours is like, too. I told you to stay away
from him, didn’t I? Has he explained why your father used to mentor
him yet?” I’m trembling with rage, so angry I can’t speak. My
mother ignores my silence. “I’m sure he hasn’t. Let me just say
this—if he had been two years older when he did what he did, he
sure as hell wouldn’t be a cop right now. He’d be on the sex
offender’s register and he wouldn’t even be able to get a job
bagging groceries. Now you listen to me, Avery, you stay away from
him!”