Even though she didn’t speak, Walker sensed her pitched focus. Her skin felt like warm satin against his fingertips. At first, her leg muscles remained rigid at his touch. His fingers slid against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
It was as if he’d activated a secret button.
She parted her legs. His fingertips moved like five heat-seeking devices.
Three
It was happening again, this hot, unstoppable rush of lust. Madeline couldn’t seem to stop it, and she hated that. She despised being at the mercy of Walker.
Her pussy seemed to love it, though.
Taking part in polite dinner conversation while Walker’s fingers inched stealthily toward the juncture of her thighs was like being told she needed to complete a complicated math problem while anticipating a delicious rush of pleasure. She felt his warm, large fingertips skim across the top of her thong panties. She realized she was sweating and reached for her glass of ice water.
“Look at that sunset, Walker. You can’t tell me you had anything like that in Washington, DC,” Tony said as Alessandro served their salads. He nodded toward the floor-to-ceiling panes of glass and the spectacular vision of the sun sinking behind the mountains, sending shards of gold-and-crimson light into the deep blue mirror of the lake.
Madeline barely heard him. Two long fingers had just dipped beneath her panties and slid between her labia. She shivered at the sensation of the hard ridge of his forefinger pressing firmly against her clit. She resisted an urge to press her chilled water glass against her cheek.
“No,” Walker admitted gruffly. “It was always hard to surpass the memories of Tahoe. Everything I saw, everything I experienced, since then came up short.”
Madeline gasped. Thankfully, the Margraves had turned, joining Tony and Walker in their appreciation of the sun sinking behind the distant mountains. They didn’t notice her reaction as Walker began to subtly vibrate his finger against her clit, agitating the hungry flesh until it sizzled.
“Aren’t you hungry, Maddie?” Tony asked a moment later when everyone started on their salads and Madeline just continued to stare blankly out the window.
“Of course. It looks delicious,” she murmured as she picked up the heavy silver salad fork. Later, she wouldn’t have been able to say what she’d put into her mouth. It might have been pickled fish heads, for all she knew. Every cell in her entire body seemed to have pitched into an alert focus of the weight of Walker’s hand, the movements of his finger, the almost electrical pulse of energy that seemed to pass directly from his flesh into her own.
Tony patted her left hand. “I know having someone take a shot at you must have sent you into a tailspin. You haven’t been yourself all day. Even though it happened on Tuesday, the shock of it doesn’t seem to have fully settled until now.”
Madeline blinked and pulled her hand out from under Tony’s. It seemed wrong, somehow, like trying to breathe underwater, to have Tony touch her while Walker did.
“I’m not worried, Tony. Please don’t worry about me being worried. It’ll get us nowhere.”
They launched into a topic Madeline had been avoiding for forty-eight hours now.
“I don’t suppose the Carnelian Bay police have done much to uncover any leads about the shooting?” Hal asked.
“There isn’t any Carnelian Bay police,” Walker replied. She yanked her gaze off Walker’s small, sexy smile with effort. He continued to stir her juices as he spoke; his movements tiny, but incendiary. Her breath had started to come jagged and shallow. At first she thought it was panic until she realized it was excitement. She’d never been sexually stimulated in public. The combination was bizarre and intimidating. “Carnelian Bay is unincorporated,” Walker continued. “Some boys from the Truckee police department came to investigate the shooting. I drove to Truckee last night after Tony called me. The shot came from a Ramo M600 fifty-caliber rifle. Russian.”
A puff of air flew past her lips when Walker’s finger paused. She glanced over at him and saw he stared at Tony. Tony took a large gulp of his wine, his face unusually stiff and sober.
“Russian?” Hal exclaimed as he scraped his salad plate. “Do you suppose that means anything, Walker?”
“It means someone seriously has it out for Madeline. That’s a professional sniper rifle.”
“And the fact that it was Russian? Is that significant?” Kitty asked, looking concerned as she glanced at Madeline.
“Nonsense,” Madeline blurted out. “There’s nothing significant about any of this. The guy who took a potshot at me couldn’t have been much of a professional. He missed by a mile.” Despite Madeline’s scathing tone—she was sick of the ridiculous topic of a conspiracy against her life—Madeline subtly pressed up with her hips against the weight of Walker’s hand. If they weren’t careful, the sounds of him moving in her wet pussy would soon become audible. That was how aroused she’d become.
“That is strange,” Walker mused as he idly watched Alessandro start to clear the table. The scent of broiled salmon tickled at Madeline’s nose, as if all the senses of her body had gone on hyperalert because of Walker’s hand in her lap. He diddled at her clit, his actions striking her as tight and focused and casual at once, as if it were the most normal thing in the world for him to manually stimulate her during a small supper party.
“What do you mean?” Tony asked Walker. Madeline noticed Tony looked flushed and guiltily wondered if her own cheeks were pink as well.
“It seems unlikely, that’s all,” Walker said. “The shooter had purchased some high-tech equipment. He’d chosen his spot well. Everything about the incident screams of a professional hit if it weren’t for the fact that he missed so drastically.”
“A warning, perhaps?” Hal asked shrewdly. “You haven’t sold any billionaires a money pit of a house lately, have you Maddie?” He picked up his fork and skewered a new potato covered in a delicate white wine and dill sauce.
“I should be the one seeking revenge on my clients given the steals they’ve been getting in this economy,” Madeline murmured wryly. Thankfully, Kitty changed the subject. Madeline was highly conscious of Walker cutting into his seared salmon, of him sliding his fork between his lips, of the movement of his jaw. She thought the meal would taste like cardboard, but instead flavor burst on her tongue as she ate. It appeared that being sexually stimulated really did awaken all the senses of the body.
As the seconds ticked by and Walker continued relentlessly, anxiety mixed more acutely with her arousal. Her cheeks grew hot. The soles of her feet tingled in her high-heeled sandals. Her clit burned beneath Walker’s finger. The friction was delicious.