Experimenting With Ed (7 page)

She shrugged. Nestled beneath the covers with her head on a fluffy pillow, she didn’t really care whether it was or not. Ed was still standing next to the bed.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” she asked. Her eyelids felt weighted and she struggled to keep them open as she waited for an answer.

He nodded, his hands going to the button on his pants. The zipper sounded loud in the hush of the bedroom. Despite her exhaustion, Claire fought to stay awake. She didn’t want to miss Ed taking his pants off.

It was worth the effort. The fabric pooled around his ankles and he stepped clear of them. His boxer briefs were fairly snug, creating an interesting outline in his crotch. Claire watched as he bent to pick up his pants. Shaking them out, he walked over to a chair next to the door and tossed them over the back.

All urge to sleep was gone, replaced by fascination and desire. Her mouth suddenly dry, she swallowed as Ed approached the bed. He lifted the covers and slid in next to her. Although he didn’t touch her, she could feel the heat of him along the whole length of her body.

She waited for him to pull her against him but he lay still. Biting her lip, Claire called herself all kinds of idiot. After the way she’d freaked out on him in the kitchen, how did she expect him to behave? Right here, with a mostly naked Ed a few inches away from her, Claire didn’t care about super-smelling skills or crazy-strong muscles. She just wanted him to touch her and that didn’t appear to be happening.

Unable to resist, she eased her hand toward him until her fingers bumped his. She explored his hand blindly, tracing the rough palm and the curl of his fingers. Except for an occasional twitch of reaction, Ed kept his hand unmoving, allowing her to do as she wished. Just as it had before, this excited her—this implied permission to do whatever she liked with him.

Turning her palm against his, Claire laced their fingers together. Ed did move then, squeezing her hand. She rolled toward him, not able to stay away any longer. Her free hand flattened against his chest and she felt his groan vibrating through her fingers.

His arm snaked beneath her and pulled her against him.

Claire snorted a laugh. “My pillow was softer,” she told him, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he grunted, turning as if to put her back where she was. Claire stretched an arm around his chest and clung.

“I’m teasing,” she said as she hung on, refusing to be dislodged from his side. “I’m good here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Chapter Six

Claire woke in the exact position she was in when she’d fallen asleep. The only difference was the daylight streaming in the window. The events of the previous night and early morning seemed fuzzy and dreamlike, although the hard shoulder beneath her cheek and the broad hand on her ass were real enough.

She squirmed a little as she realized her improvised nightshirt had ridden up and was now bunched high on her thighs—
very
high. While she was sleeping, his hand had worked its way beneath the t-shirt to her bare skin and her wiggle made his fingers tighten on her ass cheek.

Lifting her head, she sneaked a quick peek at his face. He was wide-awake, looking stubbly and bed rumpled and delicious.

Claire smiled. He looked—and felt—so good, so warm and comforting, she was embarrassed by her earlier fears. Sure, Ed was strong—really strong—and his senses were sharp, but it was silly to think he was some kind of…mutant superhero-ish being. The multiple shocks of the previous day must’ve knocked her brain loose or something.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” he responded, giving her ass another squeeze. When she pushed back into his caress, his eyes narrowed. She loved that intent, hungry look he got when he was turned-on—when
she
turned him on. With an excited shiver, she lowered her head back to his shoulder.

His fingers began to explore, sweeping across the globes of her ass and then delving between them. “Do your feet hurt?”

“No,” she lied, not wanting his hand to stop its explorations.

His grunt sounded like he didn’t believe her.

“Okay,” she amended. “A little.” Claire immediately regretted admitting it when he released her and sat up, throwing the covers back. He pulled off her socks so he could examine the bottoms of her feet. “Ed, I’m fine.” When he ignored her protest, she flopped onto her back and let him look.

“Should’ve stayed where I put you last night,” he grumbled.

With a snort, she pushed herself up on an elbow. “Maybe you should buy a blow-up doll then. She wouldn’t go anywhere—unless there was a stiff breeze or something.” He just gave her a look and turned back to her feet. “Do most of the women you date stay where you put them?”

“I don’t—” He cut himself off abruptly. “I need to put some more antibiotic cream on some of these cuts. I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Claire stared after him as he disappeared into the hall. “Didn’t we just have the ‘stay’ discussion?” she muttered, although she did remain in the bed. She sat up, propping pillows behind her, and pulled her borrowed t-shirt down.

When Ed came back in, she smiled sweetly. “You didn’t finish what you were saying before. You don’t what?”

He shook his head as he sat down by her feet. “I can’t remember.”

“Really?” She didn’t believe that for a second. “I’d asked if the women you date stay where you put them and you said, ‘I don’t’, and then changed the subject. You can’t just start something that interesting and then not finish.”

He didn’t look up, just continued dabbing cream on the soles of her feet.

“C’mon, Eddie, you can’t leave me hanging!” she wheedled. “I’m curious now. I have an inquiring mind, you know. I
will
get it out of you.” He finally glanced at her, looking so exasperated Claire laughed. “Fine,” she told him, ready with the big guns. “We don’t have to talk about this. Why don’t we talk about how you pulled that van door off with your bare hands last night?”

“I was going to say I don’t date women.”

Claire wasn’t sure what she’d expected but that definitely wasn’t it. She blinked. “You’re gay?”
How’d I miss
that
?

“No.” He was concentrating much too hard on closing the tube of antibiotic cream.

“But…” She shook her head, confused. “I don’t get it.”

“I just…haven’t dated much. Lately.”

“Lately as in weeks?” she pressed, leaning forward. “Months?” He didn’t respond. “Years?” He slanted her a quick glance and Claire sat back, stunned. “Holy cow.
Years?
”

A slight flush darkened the skin along his cheekbones. “Been busy,” he muttered.

“Too busy to get busy?” she asked skeptically. “You work in a bar. You look like,” she waved a hand at him, “
this
and you’re telling me you’re too busy?”

“Only worked there a couple months.”

“Where’d you work before? A monastery?”

He actually smiled a little at that, although it didn’t appear to have much humor in it. “Pretty close.”

“Where was that?” she asked curiously.

“Hungry?”

By the set of his mouth, Claire was pretty sure she’d gotten all the information she was going to get out of the guy. Besides, she was starving. “Yes.”

“Not much here,” he told her, looking a little more relaxed now that they weren’t discussing his baffling lack of a sex life. “Want to go out?”

She made a face and plucked at the front of her t-shirt. “In this? I think my dress is looking pretty rough. Besides, it’s not really Denny’s attire.”

His eyes fell on her legs where they emerged from beneath the t-shirt. “I could pick up some food and bring it back here.” His gaze flicked up to her face. “You gonna be pissed if I tell you to stay?”

“Yes,” she told him, shifting onto her knees in front of him so she could kiss his prickly cheek. “But not if you
ask
me.”

“Stay here?” He turned his head so his mouth brushed hers.

She gave a low laugh. “I’d be happy to. See? It’s all in the inflection.”

* * * * *

Taking advantage of Ed’s absence, she took a quick shower. It was an intentionally cool one, since he’d gotten her all hot and bothered with that one tiny kiss and the sizzling look he’d given her. Claire wouldn’t have objected to a delayed breakfast if it meant some fun in bed, but he’d pulled away too soon, yanked on some clothes and taken off. With a sigh and a shrug, Claire turned her face to the spray. Maybe the guy was just really hungry.

After toweling off and finding another pair of Ed’s socks and a fresh t-shirt to wear, she limped around, exploring the house. It was pretty basic, with nothing to tell her much about the guy, except that he was freakishly neat.

Padding into the living room, she turned on the TV, flipping around the channels, past cartoons, a talk show, a cooking show—where she paused for a few seconds before realizing it was just making her hungrier—a news station.

She froze. The scene shown in the video footage was uncomfortably familiar. It had obviously been shot earlier, since the scene was dark except for the red and blue from the police cars and the floodlights set up by the news crews. A dark blue van was centered inside the crime-scene tape—the same dark blue van Claire had been hanging off the night before. She arrowed up the volume.

“As you can see behind me,” the reporter was saying, “the door was actually ripped off the victim’s van before he was pulled out and violently beaten, tied up and locked inside the back of his van, where he was found by police. It is unclear what was used to remove the door.” The camera zoomed in on the door that rested on the pavement, looking like a capsized turtle. “Police have released a sketch of his alleged attacker, who is also believed to have stolen a motorcycle just minutes before this brutal attack.” The video was replaced by a drawing that looked remarkably like—

“Shit,” Ed said behind her.

Spinning around, Claire stared at him. “Why do they have your picture on the news? It was him—the van guy! He admitted it!”

“Admitted it to
me
,” he clarified, taking the remote from her numb hand and turning the TV off. “Not the cops. Plus I did steal that bike.”

“But—” she started.

He cut her off with a sharp shake of his head. “Get dressed. We have to go.”

“Go?” Claire protested. “Go where? To the police station?”

“No. Now hurry.”

She didn’t move. “Why should we go? All we need to do is explain to the police—”

“It won’t be the police,” he interrupted again. “Feds’ll take over soon.”

“Feds?” she repeated faintly. “Why would the Feds…” Swallowing hard, she stared at his impassive face. “You’re wanted by the Feds?” When he didn’t answer, Claire took that as a yes. “W-what did you do?”

Ed finally looked at her. “Don’t be scared.”

“You keep telling me that,” she said, a quaver running through her words, “and it never helps. You can’t just order me not to be afraid.”

“I just—” His jaw tightened. “I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

“So quit doing scary things!” The words burst from her in a flash of anger that masked her fear for a second. It quickly faded and the shake returned to her voice. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” he bit out. “I left. That’s all. They want me back.”

Her eyes widened as her stomach dropped. “You…broke out of prison?”
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!

“No!” It was the loudest Claire had ever heard him get and she flinched back. “Sorry. Don’t be…” He didn’t finish the sentence but turned away, every muscle in his body tight. “I
worked
for them. They didn’t want me to go. I
was
a prisoner but I didn’t commit any crimes—least not ones I wasn’t ordered to commit.”

She stared at him. Everything he was saying just confused her more. “Who’re ‘they’?”

“There’s no time!” Taking a step toward her, he lifted a hand as if to touch her face but then dropped it again before he made contact. “I’ll tell you but not now. We have to go.” When she hesitated, Ed closed his eyes for a moment. “Claire, please.”

She wanted to go. Logic told her she didn’t know this man. He was probably lying or delusional or both. Despite knowing this, she trusted him—she couldn’t help it. In the thirty-six hours she’d known him, he’d saved her life at least three times. “I can’t get dressed,” she finally said. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

A flash of relief crossed his face before the usual expressionless mask fell back into place. “I’ll get you something,” he told her, already moving toward the door. “Stay?” The order was as close to a plea as Claire figured he’d get. At her nod, she could see a little of the tension go out of his face. “Good. Eat something. I left food in the kitchen.”

The thought of food made her stomach churn but she nodded anyway, just to pacify Ed. He disappeared through the kitchen and presumably out the back door, although Claire didn’t hear the door close.

Her knees were shaking. Lowering herself to sit on the edge of the couch, she stared at the blackened TV screen for a while. Her thoughts spun around, refusing to settle. How had she gotten herself into this situation? Claire liked to plan, to schedule, to organize—running off with a wanted man was none of these things.

No, it’s just plain nuts.
The logical portion of her brain was not helping. Desperate for distraction, she got up to get the remote and turned on the television. The same footage of the van was shown.

“In a bizarre twist, it appears the suspect in the motorcycle-jacking and violent attack on the owner of the van has an alleged accomplice,” the reporter said.

Claire’s picture flashed on the screen and she stared at it, mouth open. It was a picture Gordon had taken of her in the lab. She’d always hated that picture.

The reporter continued, “This woman, Claire Dunlop, is suspected of starting the fire at Carrendine Apartments last night in order to incriminate her former boss, Dr. Gordon Black. Allegedly, Dunlop was fired yesterday after attempting to sabotage Dr. Black’s cancer research.”

“
What?!
” Claire screeched as her photo was replaced by video footage of Gordon’s smug, goateed face.

“It was unfortunate,” he said. “I’m afraid Claire had a bit of a crush on me. When I discovered what she’d done, I had to let her go. The fire,” he shook his head sadly, “I can only assume was a misguided attempt to incriminate me—or at least get my attention. I don’t really know what goes on in such an emotion-driven, irrational mind.”