A Crying Shame (60 page)
Authors: William W. Johnstone
He padded noiselessly to her bedside. Sitting in a chair, he smiled at her. She was conscious of his maleness, and quite aware of her own moistening sex. She was naked under her sheer nightgown, and she had tossed the sheet aside soon after retiring. She wondered just how much of her he could see in the gloom. Quite a lot, she concluded.
I'm losing my mind! she silently urged. Monsters prowling around the house. Things out of a nightmare. My brother dead only a few hours, and I'm getting turned-on and sexed up over a savage mercenary. You're a fool, Linda!
But she did not take her eyes from his.
Later,” he whispered, smiling at her.His remark infuriated her.
The governor was right, you know?” she hissed at him.
You are a son of a bitch!”
The governor was right, you know?” she hissed at him.You are a son of a bitch!”He chuckled softly.
No. Just a man.”
No. Just a man.”And you're going to show me all the marvels of sex, I suppose?” she said, her voice barely audible, but still holding a razor-sharp note of sarcasm.He rose from the chair.
I think you know all about the marvels of sex, Linda.”
I think you know all about the marvels of sex, Linda.”Before she could reply, telling him her sex life was none of his business, she heard a faint click as his M-10 was pushed off safetyâthen a sound that made her flesh crawl, and brought chill bumps sliding over her skin like filthy lice.
Get up.” Jon's whisper was quiet, but held a note of urgency.Put on jeans and a shirt. Lace-up shoes. We might have to do some quick stepping . . . shortly.”Turn your head.”Jamais, cherie.” He smiled, eyes bold in the near-darkness of the bedroom. Never.
Angry, she stepped from the bed and jerked her nightgown off. The small night light in the hall seemed to have been transformed into a spotlight, its illumination highlighting her ivory body.
Jon's eyes lingered at the luxurious bush between her long, shapely legs, the dark V quickly disappearing as she pulled on jeans and jammed her feet into tennis shoes. She bent over to tie the laces, her breasts full firm mounds, dark-tipped. She straightened, the breasts vanishing under a shirt.
Get your eyes full?” she questioned, her voice a whisper, but with enough heat to melt ice.Oui.”Jon smiled.
Magnifique, mademoiselle.”Other books
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