Placing his lips against hers, he murmured, “But what?”
“I got all hot and fluttery.”
“What you’re doing now has got me hot and fluttery.”
Squeezing and stroking, she had brought him to full erection again. As she rolled her thumb over the smooth tip, pressing it where it was most sensitive, he groaned, “Christ, Lilly.”
“This is a lovely device.”
“It’s not the only one.”
In the tangle of blankets, she lost track of exactly how he came to be lying between her thighs, his hands beneath her hips, tilting her up toward his mouth and that other heat seeker, his tongue. It treated her to carnal sensations she didn’t know were possible and acquainted her with a level of intimacy she hadn’t realized two separate individuals could share.
Did she actually cry out his name? Or did she only think she did? Either way, it echoed loudly inside her head, her heart.
Moments later, when he was buried deep inside her again, she gazed up at him, her eyes telegraphing a million things she wanted to say but had no words for.
He smiled tenderly. He understood. Tierney understood everything.
• • •
When Lilly came to, she was back in the main room of the cabin. A fire was burning in the grate, so she wasn’t cold. Welcome sunlight was streaming in through one of the windows, where the drape had been pushed aside. Her neck was sore, but it was no more painful than a crick.
And she was handcuffed.
Tierney!
God, she’d been dreaming about him, about last night, about making love with him. A sob of humiliation and outrage escaped her, but she wouldn’t indulge those feelings now. She would save them for later. Assuming she survived.
She looked wildly about the cabin and listened for sounds of him moving around in the other rooms but quickly determined that she was alone. She was seated on the floor beneath the bar that divided the kitchen from the living area. Her hands had been secured to a metal support bracket on the underside of the counter. Her hands had gone to sleep from lack of circulation, and it was probably that discomfort that had brought her out of unconsciousness.
She came up onto her knees to give her arms some slack and much relief. Her inhalers had been placed on the seat of the bar stool
nearest her, within reach if she stretched out her fingers. A cup of water was also there. How considerate. Tierney wanted her hydrated and breathing well when he killed her.
What choice did he have? She had sealed her doom when she found Millicent’s body.
He was Blue.
His explanations for the handcuffs and all the rest had been, indeed, as false as they’d sounded. Probably he’d been on the mountain to dispose of Millicent’s corpse when the storm had forced a postponement. He’d stashed her body in the most convenient hiding place—her toolshed. As he was making his way back to his car, Lilly had intercepted him on the road.
All his actions and evasions since then seemed indisputable signs of guilt. How could she have believed him innocent even for an instant, much less for an entire night? The answer was simple: She had wanted to.
She had desired him. His self-sacrificing, life-risking kindnesses toward her yesterday had seemed incompatible with a man who would then wish to destroy her.
What a clever modus operandi. He befriended his victims. Romanced them into a sentimental stupor. Made sweet love to them. But at some point, the tender lovemaking turned violent.
She’d had only a glimpse of Millicent’s face before turning away in horror, but the sight was branded on her memory. Millicent hadn’t died in the throes of passion. She had been choked until her tongue protruded from her lips and her eyes bulged from their sockets. Her killer had been cruel and merciless. She hadn’t died quickly. It had been slow and awful.
Thinking of it filled Lilly with terror, but also with a determination not to be Tierney’s next victim.
Where was he, and how long till he returned? Was he disposing of Millicent’s remains before coming back to deal with her? Whatever he did, he would have to do it swiftly. He was under a deadline. He’d said himself that Dutch or someone would try today to reach them.
When, when, when?
She yanked hard on the cuffs, knowing even as she did that it was futile to try to break free from them. If Tierney couldn’t do it, what possible chance did she have? God, had she really kissed the skin he’d rubbed raw on his wrists and the scratches her nails had left on the back of his hand?
She couldn’t think about that now. Nor about anything else they’d done in the dark warmth beneath the blankets. That was last night. This was today. She wouldn’t die of shame. She wouldn’t die, period. She would survive.