If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (25 page)

I
T WAS PAST SIX ON
T
UESDAY AND
L
ENA FELT UTTERLY
decadent. Most of the past two days had been spent in bed with Ezra. Well, in bed, in the shower … once on her back porch.

Right now she was back in the bed, wrapped around that long, oh so nicely muscled body of his.

“You know, I’ve spent more time in bed the past week than I usually do in a month,” she murmured, smiling a little.

“You complaining?”

“No. Just a comment.”

His hand stroked up and down her back. She traced her fingers along his torso, taking quite a bit of pleasure as she learned his body. And damn, what a body. He had a hard, flat belly, long, lean limbs, and his hands … whoa. He could do things with his hands that just might be illegal in some countries.

Then there was his mouth—his mouth could almost put his hands to shame and if she wasn’t careful, she just might start whimpering in need if she thought about it too much.

He was smiling. She could feel the curve of his mouth
pressed against her temple. “Glad you’re not complaining, because if you were, it would be your fault.”

“Really? How is that?”

“Well. I didn’t see you for three days.”

Lena laughed. “I had to work,” she reminded him. She hadn’t seen him at all Thursday, Friday, or Saturday—he had called shortly before she was supposed to leave on Saturday, but she hadn’t had much time to talk.

When he’d shown up at her doorstep Sunday, she’d tried to keep it cool, casual … letting him inside, offering to cook dinner.

They’d made it halfway through the foyer, and he’d stroked a hand down her back.

That was all it had taken and she’d just about pounced on him. Since then, the hours had passed in a drugged, sexual blur of pleasure.

Lena’s sex life had been … limited. The last guy she’d been serious with had been Remy—sex with him had been fun, hot, and easy. They had been compatible in bed, but it hadn’t compared to this.

She and Ezra weren’t compatible.

They were damned near combustible.

It went deeper than the heat, though.

He made her laugh.

He made her smile.

Hell, he just made her happy.

Sometime around eight or nine last night, they’d realized they’d sort of forgotten about eating for most of the day. Starved, they’d hit the kitchen and she’d been delighted when he had ended up making them breakfast. Bacon, eggs, and toast, which they had eaten in the living room while watching the first in a series of very bad B horror movies.

Then they’d fallen asleep on the couch.

She’d woken to his hands on her hips, his mouth between her legs.

Lena was pretty certain she’d had more orgasms in the past two days than she’d had in the past two years, combined. And that probably included those she’d given herself.

She knew she’d laughed more, smiled more since they’d decided to rethink the “friends only thing.”

Sex and laughter, they were good things to have, she decided.

For the most part, she was normally kind of reserved, held herself apart—it was instinctive. She wasn’t shy, but she kept her circle of friends small, and close. She kept the walls around herself high and tight.

Ezra had a way of smashing through those walls. Actually, it was kind of like the walls just fell down. They didn’t even exist for him.

Smiling, she rubbed her cheek against his chest and sighed.

He combed a hand through her hair, absently toying with the ends. “You’ve got that smile on your face again,” he murmured. “Like Sylvester the cat just got ahold of Tweety Bird, once and for all.”

“Do I?” She smirked and sat up, stroking a hand down his chest.

“Yeah. Kind of makes me wonder what you’re thinking about.”

“Nothing … exactly. Just this.” She shrugged, absently circling a finger around his navel.

He jumped and caught her hand. “Quit that.”

A grin tugged at her lips. “Quit what?” Unable to resist, she wiggled around until she was sitting up and raked the nails of her other hand down his side. When he flinched and caught that wrist as well, she started to chuckle. “You’re ticklish.”

She wiggled her hand free and poked him in the side again and he swore, catching her.

She tried to roll away and they ended up wrestling
across the bed, laughing and swearing—although most of the swearing came from Ezra every time she managed to get free long enough to poke him in the ribs, under his arms. Even a light touch across his spine was enough.

“Whoever would have thought the big, tough cop would be that ticklish?” she teased as he rolled and pinned her beneath him.

“Brat,” he muttered, stretching her arms over her head and holding her wrists in one hand.

Biting the tip of her tongue, she twined a leg around and managed to stroke her big toe down his instep. He swore again and used his knee to press her thighs apart, pinning her hips against the bed. “Would you quit it!”

That last move had the length of his cock pressed snug against her sex. Her breath lodged in her throat and she shivered, moved against him as best as she could. “Ahh … you know what? I bet you could distract me, if you really, really tried,” she suggested.

“You’ve been torturing me and you think I should make love to you?” He paused. “Okay.”

But when he reached down and touched the tip of his fingers to her swollen folds, even that light touch was even to make her flinch—flinch in pain. Ezra eased back. “You’re too sore,” he muttered.

“Am not.” Well, maybe, but she didn’t care.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nipped her chin and started to move lower, kissing a line down her body, blazing a trail from her mouth all the way down to her navel, her pubis.

By the time he reached the sensitive folds of her sex, she was all but ready to beg him. Bending her knees, she dug her heels in the mattress and pressed down, arching her hips upward.

He cupped her butt in his hands and blew a cool puff of air against her.

She cried out.

The feel of his tongue against her was like the silken lash of a whip—pained pleasure. Each touch, each stroke against her swollen tissues had her heart racing faster, her blood pumping hotter.

“More,” she muttered, rocking against him and reaching down, fisting her hands in his hair. It was thick, soft as silk under her hands.

The hunger was a burning, empty, aching knot inside, growing, spreading. It was going to consume her, drive her insane and still … he taunted. Teased.

As she panted and cried out, he lifted his head and traced his tongue around her entrance, teased her clit.

“Damn it, Ezra,” she whimpered.

A hard, callused hand closed on her ankle. For some reason, that firm, unyielding touch had the knot of hunger inside her tightening, twisting. “What, baby?” he muttered, his breath hot against her wet flesh. “What do you want?”

“I want …” The words were trapped in her throat. Slamming her head back against the mattress, she jerked her leg against his restraining hand. He tightened his grip and dipped his head.

His teeth lightly grazed her clit and she froze. He did it again and then, he bit down and gently tugged.

Lena came with a harsh, nearly breathless scream.

She was blushing.

Wrapping his arms around her middle, Ezra rubbed his chin against the soft curve of her belly and smiled as he watched her squirm.

Damn it all but he loved the look of her. Her eyes were all heavy and sleepy from sex, her cheeks flushed, a faint smile curling her lips even as she squirmed in embarrassment. “You know, I’m really glad I don’t have close neighbors,” she said, her voice husky and soft. “They would have had the sheriff out here eight or nine times in the past two days.”

“Nah. After the first time or two, I would have convinced them everything was okay.” He pressed a kiss to her hipbone.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but her belly interrupted with a loud, demanding growl. Amused, he nuzzled the silken skin there and then sat up. “Maybe we should go eat. Fuel up for the next twenty-four hours.”

Lena grimaced. “Food sounds good, but we can’t do another marathon like this … at least not tonight. I’ve got to do some running around town tomorrow, otherwise I won’t be able to until Sunday or Monday. I hate trying to get it all done before I have to work at the end of the week.”

“Does that mean I can’t stay the night?” Ezra asked, trying to ignore the hollow feeling he had inside when he thought about walking away.
Slow, remember? You were supposed to be friends, and then you were going to take it slow …

And how fucking slow were they taking it? He showed up on Sunday, without calling, again planning on a casual meal, and they hadn’t so much as left the house. Unless you counted having sex on the porch as leaving the house …

He needed to back off a little, he figured. Back off. Slow down. Give her some space.

But even as he tried to convince himself that was the best thing to do, Lena caught his wrist and turned her face to his hand. “Oh, I’d love if you stayed the night. We just can’t have crazy monkey sex all night and I’ve got to be up early for Puck.” Then she grimaced. “Plus, I’ve been bad—I need to take him out for a walk tonight. I try to walk him every day and I didn’t yesterday.”

“You’re too sore for crazy monkey sex. Plus, I think we’re running low on condoms.” He ran a hand through his hair and stood up, grimacing as he studied the bed. “Your bed is a mess, beautiful.”

She flashed him a grin. “I’ll tell you what … I’ll do dinner. You do the bed. Sheets are in the hallway closet.”

Lena was adding a little more seasoning to the steaks when the phone rang. Absently, she answered, her mind more on Ezra than anything else.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey, Law. What’s up?”

“Listen, I know I’m supposed to run you into town tomorrow, but I can’t. I’m on my way to the airport in Lexington right now. Heading out of town for a few days.”

Lena frowned and closed the cabinet, trying to pinpoint the heavy, somber tone she heard in Law’s voice. He sounded nothing like himself. She’d heard him irritated, impatient, charming, and mad, but she hadn’t ever heard him sound so … sad.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, gripping the phone nervously.

His sigh drifted over the receiver. “No. I just got word that a friend of mine died this morning. I’m flying out for the memorial and funeral. Will you be okay—maybe your cop can run you into town or something?”

“Law, I’m so sorry.” She swallowed, at a loss for anything else to say. What could she say? Hearing Ezra coming into the room behind her, she turned toward him and automatically reached for him.

It felt so natural, doing just that. Something she’d never done before, something she’d never had before … yet it felt so natural with him.

And he was there, catching her hand with his and offering silent support without even asking. He didn’t have to, she knew. He realized something was wrong, and he wanted to be there.

Lacing her fingers with his, she closed her eyes and focused on the phone, and Law.

“Will you be okay for a few days? If your cop isn’t free, maybe Roz can run you into town?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m the last person you need to be worrying about right now,” she told him, her voice thick, her heart aching for her friend.

“Not entirely true. You’re a friend—friends don’t get relegated to the back burner.” He paused, sighed. “I’ve got to go.”

As Law disconnected, Ezra stroked a hand down her back. Absently, without even realizing it, she leaned against him, resting her cheek against his chest.

“Everything okay?”

“A friend of Law’s died this morning.”

Ezra was quiet for a moment and then murmured, “Cassia Hughes, maybe?”

Lena lifted her face to his. “Cassia? Cassia Hughes. I know that name. Mystery writer. He has a friend—Cassie … he talked about Cassie a lot. She was … yeah, she was a friend. She’s dead?”

“I saw the news feed when I was online earlier, checking my e-mail. She had a heart attack. They were friends?”

“Yeah.” She rested her head against his chest and slid her arms around his waist. “I lost my dad and that just about did me in when I was a kid. You never really get over it, but Dad’s the only one I’ve ever lost. Law’s lost his parents, and now one of his best friends. Man, I hurt for him. This is awful.”

The air around Ezra was tense, tight. A soft, rough sigh shuddered out of him and he said, “Awful doesn’t describe it.”

Remembering what he’d told her about his partner … his lover, she winced. “I’m sorry. I just went and put my foot in my mouth, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay.” He kissed her brow. “A heart attack, fast and peaceful, probably isn’t a bad way to go.”

Lena made a face. “There’s a not-bad way to go?”

“Oh, baby. There are ways so awful, I can’t even begin to describe. Fast, peaceful? I don’t want to kick it any time soon, but if I had to choose a way, a major heart attack probably wouldn’t suck, at least.” He nuzzled her cheek and stroked a hand down her back. “Is he okay?”

“As okay as he can be, I guess. Worrying about me.” She made a face. “That’s Law for you. A friend of his died and he’s worrying about how I’ll get to town. He usually drives me in on Wednesdays.”

Tipping her head back, she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You maybe want to take me into town tomorrow?”

“Sure. When?”

“Just sometime in the morning—well, any time works. But Puck never lets me sleep in.” Resting her head against Ezra’s chest, she traced out a pattern on his chest and said, “So … you said something about staying the night?”

Fucking bitch.

By the time the week was over, Prather had worked himself to a fever pitch, so damn furious, he could barely see.

A week. He’d been stuck working the desk all fucking week on Nielson’s say-so.

It was all that bitch’s fault, too.

Fucking Lena Riddle.

He was tempted, by God, he was tempted. Wanted to go out there and give that high-and-mighty little snot a piece of his mind. Then he wanted to punch that smug state boy right in his mouth. King had gone and had a talk with Nielson, that was another part of the problem, and Nielson, being the ass-kisser he was, he’d gone and caved.