“Why are you so hung up on who I did or didn’t take?” He nudged her body with his, then inclined forward until they were touching middle to middle. “I warned you once to keep your curiosity at bay,” he whispered. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing with Junior, satisfying your curiosity about why your mama found him so appealing?” He took perverse pleasure in watching the color drain from her face.
“No,” she denied hoarsely.
“I think it is.”
“You’re sick.”
“Not me, baby.” His breath trailed across her lips. “You’re the one who’s curious.”
He bent his head and kissed her. She stubbornly resisted the pressure of his mouth, but he finally succeeded in maneuvering her lips apart. His tongue raked her teeth and the inner linings of her lips.
She opened to him. He felt the breath leave her body on a ragged sigh. It was moist and warm and sweet inside his mouth. His erection stretched, pushing painfully against his fly, against hers. He reached inside her coat and covered her breast with his hand. Beneath his revolving thumb her nipple hardened, and when he swept it lightly, a low moan rose out of her throat.
He raised his head and looked down into her face. Her head was resting against the body of the airplane, her throat arched and exposed. She was breathing hard. Her chest rose and fell swiftly. He could feel her heart, like a small, wild, frightened creature that had become trapped in his palm. Her lips were slightly parted, wet and glistening. Her eyes were closed. Slowly, they came open. They looked at each other with wariness and confusion.
Oh Jesus, was Reede’s last coherent thought. His mouth lowered to hers again, hungrier, but much more temperate. He pressed his tongue into her mouth, giving, not taking. He fondled her breast with more finesse.
Eventually losing patience with her clothing, he dropped his hand to her waist. Her sweater was pushed up, the cup of her bra was pushed down, and her warm, soft flesh filled his hand. Reflexively, she arched her back, plumping her breast against his callused fingers and palm. He kneaded it and continued to agitate its tight, feverish center with the pad of his thumb.
Kissing her as though this was his first kiss ever, or the last one he would ever be granted, he worked her legs apart with his knee and angled his hips toward her cleft. From the edge of his mind it registered that she made a helpless little sound and lifted her arms to encircle his neck, but he could focus on nothing except her mouth, his invasion of it, and how damn much he wanted to be buried snugly inside her.
His free hand slid over her butt, down the back of her thigh, and caught her behind the knee. He lifted it, propped it on his hip, and made a grinding motion against her. He fit his rigid body into the notch of her thighs and stroked her there until the tempo escalated to a breathless pace. She spoke his name on a sudden, catchy little breath that fanned his passions hotter.
Several seconds later, he heard his name again, coming to him dimly and from afar. Vaguely, he wondered how she had managed to speak when her tongue was so actively engaged with his.
He heard his name called again and realized that it wasn’t Alex’s voice.
“Reede? Where are you, boy?”
His head snapped up. Alex blinked her eyes back into focus. He hastily withdrew his hand from inside her sweater. She yanked her coat closed.
“In here.” His voice sounded like he’d recently gargled nails.
Angus stepped through the door Alex had left open.
Reede noticed that the sun had set.
Chapter 30
To her credit, Alex recovered remarkably well, Angus thought. Except for the dazed expression in her eyes and her slightly swollen lips, she seemed perfectly composed.
“Hello, Angus,” she said.
“Hi, Alex. Get things straightened out in Austin?”
“Yes. Thank you for lending me your airplane.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“I, uh, was just on my way out.” To Reede she said, “I’ll get back to you about this later.” She left in a hurry. Reede picked up a wrench and stuck his head into the exposed engine of the small aircraft.
“What’s she up to now?” Angus asked as he lowered himself onto the stool Reede had occupied earlier.
“She discovered that I own this place. I never kept it a secret, but I never advertised it, either. She figures I’d have a lot to lose if she takes this case to a grand jury, whether I’m the killer or not.”
“She’s right,” the older man observed. Reede merely shrugged, tossed the wrench on a worktable and closed the motor casing. “Ely told me she came to his office asking questions about his daddy’s scalpel and the day of the murder.”
“The scalpel, huh?”