Long Time Gone (20 page)

Suddenly, her skin felt clammy. She really could smell Biedermeier. Still.

She tossed her piece of pizza back in the box and headed for Erik’s bathroom. Shower time.

Erik climbed the stairs to his apartment, trying to decide if he felt elated or depressed. Some of each, as a matter of fact.

Biedermeier had a bruised nose and a black eye, but nothing serious. He and Nando had taken him back to the station from the hospital, surprising the hell out of Peavey, who had night duty. Biedermeier didn’t have much to say, particularly since the doctor in the ER had given him a couple of industrial-strength painkillers. Erik figured questioning him could wait until tomorrow, but he had Peavey start the paperwork for a search warrant on Biedermeier’s house.

Most of the businesses who’d used his services would probably claim they thought they were dealing with a legitimate waste-disposal firm. Of course, the fact pickups had been done by a guy driving a pest control truck might have been an alarm for someone who’d had any real concerns in that area.

Erik smiled a little grimly. TCEQ and the sheriff were going to have a lot of fun with this one.

But he wouldn’t. Friesenhahn had called him a few minutes after they’d locked Biedermeier in a cell to let him know he was going to the County Judge in the morning for a writ. Erik could question Biedermeier and search his house, but anything he found would end up in the sheriff’s property room eventually, and the sheriff would be by to pick up his prisoner tomorrow afternoon.

He unlocked the door to his apartment and stepped through, scanning the empty living room. “Morgan?” As he turned down the hall, he heard the sound of running water. The shower.

For a moment, he debated whether to join her or not. She’d had a bad afternoon, what with Biedermeier deciding to play master criminal for five minutes. She might not want to do much besides have some dinner and go to sleep. A decent man would probably leave her alone until she’d indicated her preferences.

On the other hand, he did need a shower. And his afternoon hadn’t been much better.

Who was to say she couldn’t indicate her preferences while wet and naked?

Chapter Nineteen

Morgan stood in the shower, letting the last traces of Terrell Biedermeier wash down the drain. She closed her eyes and felt the warm water pulse against her face as another layer of tension dissolved along with it.

She only half-heard the bathroom door open and close. “Erik?”

“Were you expecting anybody else?” His voice sounded muffled, and she heard a boot hit the floor.

“Not really.” She turned slightly, letting the water trickle down her spine.

“Want company?” His voice rumbled beneath the sound of running water.

“Sure.” She smiled against the warm stream, then turned her head again to let it soak into her hair. “Do you have any shampoo?”

The shower curtain rings scrapped against the metal rail. “Sure I have shampoo. You think I’m a savage?”

Cool hands slid along her flanks, pushing her aside so that he could climb in behind her, then pulling her body back against the warmth of his chest. Morgan brought the backs of her thighs against him, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the cooling water. Incredibly, she began to feel a warm flush of desire growing in her belly. Good to know Biedermeier hadn’t traumatized her all that much after all.

“Are you okay with this, Bambi?” Erik’s voice rumbled against her ear. “Or would you rather I back off?”

She leaned her head against him. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

He chuckled. “Want me to wash your hair?”

A quick jolt of desire flickered beneath her skin. She kept her eyes closed, reveling in the heightened feeling that rolled through her body “Yes, please.”

After a moment, she felt the cool slide of liquid, then his fingers rubbing against her scalp. The air filled with a clean, powdery scent. “You use baby shampoo?”

He turned her so that her breasts were pressed against him, moving her head back beneath the spray. “You want to make something out of that, ma’am?”

“Nope.” Morgan grinned, eyes closed against the water pouring across her forehead. His chest brushed against her nipples, sending small spikes of excitement down toward her mons. His lips pressed against the wetness of her throat, his tongue licking along the line of a tendon to her collarbone. Her breath rushed out in a whoosh. “No fair.”

“Why not?” His voice was muffled against the top of her breast. She felt the brief nip of his teeth, then his hands cupping her buttocks, pulling her tighter.

“There’s soap around my eyes. I can’t open them until I’m rinsed.”

Erik’s chuckle whispered against her throat again, and then his hands were running through her hair, cupping the water so that it spilled across her forehead and down her face. “You’re done.”

“Not yet.” She opened her eyes, grinning wetly. “But I think I will be soon.”

“Definitely.” His molasses eyes danced with heat. Tiny drops of water clung to his eyelashes and the dark beard stubble across his cheeks, giving him a moist shine.

Morgan wrapped one leg around his thighs, as he spread his knees slightly to support them. She leaned back against the wall, letting the water from the shower flow along her side, dividing into channels where their bodies touched. She could feel the head of his erection pressing against her opening.

“We’re going to kill ourselves doing this here,” she murmured. “One slip and we’re toast.”

“Just have faith, Bambi.” He braced his hands on either side of her head, leaning forward so that he slid partway inside.

Morgan moaned, half protest, half need. He leaned forward again so that he slid further inside her—slowly, slowly inside. She curled her toes against him, then wrapped her leg more firmly around his waist, tucking her heel against his rear. “Do it, Chief,” she gasped.

“Patience, ma’am.”

She heard the grin in his voice. His face was buried in the crook of her throat, his teeth nipping at the edge of her shoulder. She groaned, thrusting herself against him, and he slid to her core, all heat and wetness and wicked delight.

He arched above her, pushing himself away from the wall. She watched the muscles of his arms and chest bunch and strain as he moved. His hips thudded against her, driving deep.

Her knees seemed to dissolve, all strength leaving the leg she was balancing on. A bubble of heat and light rose inside her, expanding through her body, and she cried out, looping her arms around his neck to keep herself from slipping.

He pushed her flat against the wall, pounding hard but still not hard enough, not deep enough. She groaned, trying to move closer, and he took her breast in his mouth.

The pull on her nipple sent a line of sensation straight down to her toes. She gritted her teeth and jutted her body toward him again, their hips slapping in the water that streamed over her head. Heat erupted through her, shattering her. “Oh lord, Erik.”

His body hammered on top of her, once, twice, again, harder, deeper, riding it out until he was gasping for breath against her cheek.

She whimpered, her body shuddering with aftershocks.

“Easy, Bambi,” he whispered. “Easy now.”

She slumped against his arms, sliding down the wall to the tub, and Erik slid with her, pulling her on top of him. They lay together in the pooling spray that cooled the heat of their skin.

“Nice shower,” he muttered.

“Yeah.” Morgan looked down from above him. “I think I’ve been in here too long, though. I’m all wrinkly.”

Water beaded on his forehead, his cheeks, matting his eyelashes. His lips spread in a soaking grin. “Sorry, I’m too wiped out to think of a comeback to that.” He sat up slowly, carrying her until she straddled his hips, then reached to the end of the tub and turned off the water. “I’d say you’re done.”

Her lips spread in a lazy smile. “Ooh, am I ever!”

Erik pushed the shower curtain open and pulled a bath sheet off the towel rack across from the tub. He wrapped it around her body, rubbing gently against her skin. “Time to dry off, Morg. Wouldn’t want you to dissolve. Not yet, anyway.” His teeth flashed against the dark gold of his skin.

Morgan felt a sudden clench as she looked up at him.
So much man. So scary gorgeous.
And still somehow she didn’t know him at all. She reached for his shirt. “Come on, Chief. Pizza’s getting cold.”

Erik sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room floor and considered the last piece of pizza in the box in front of him. He’d put on a pair of jeans, but that was it—they weren’t dressing for dinner. Morgan sat across from him in one of his T-shirts, which reached to the middle of her thighs. He was trying not to be too aware of the fact she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

A true gentleman would offer that last piece of pizza to his lady first. A hungry cop would race her for it. He sighed. “Want the last piece?”

Morgan shook her head, wiping a napkin across her mouth to pick up a smear of tomato sauce. Her brown curls stood up in corkscrews around her head. She looked like a very sexy Shirley Temple. “I’m full. Go for it, Chief.”

He picked up the last piece and watched her stretch across the floor. It was a good thing he had his hands full or he’d have jumped her again. Better to focus on other things, at least until they’d had time to digest dinner. “So how are you feeling?”

Her forehead furrowed. “Feeling? After that shower and the pizza I’m feeling terrific, why?”

He shrugged. “I mean post-Biedermeier.”

Morgan pursed her lips in a way that made his gut clench. “I guess I should still be traumatized, but I’m not. I mean, it was Terrell Biedermeier, for Pete’s sake. The bug man. And he threatened me with a ballpoint pen.”

He fought a grin. “It was still serious, Morg. He did threaten you, even if it was bogus.”

She raised up on one elbow. “Well, you saved me and I’m fine.” She gave him a dazzling—if somewhat guarded—grin, glancing around the room. “Kind of sparse in here, isn’t it?”

Okay, we’ll change the subject.
He followed her gaze. “Maybe. I didn’t bring much with me.” He hadn’t had much to bring in the first place. His first home in Konigsburg had been a single-wide. Fortunately, Docia’s old apartment had come available when Pete and his wife Janie had bought their own house. He’d picked up a couch and a kitchen table at a used-furniture store. And Docia had left her king-size bed behind when she’d moved in with Cal. It was the best piece of furniture in the apartment, and it had really come in handy since he’d met Morgan.

“What’s that?” She pointed to the plastic display box on top of the television set.

He grimaced. “My Nolan Ryan autographed baseball.”

She turned back to look at him, her mouth inching up into a smile. “You’re a baseball fan?”

“Used to be.” He sighed and took another bite of pizza. “My dad bought it for me when I was sixteen. I think he hoped it would get me to start playing again.” His dad had taught him to pitch too. Maybe if he’d gone back to playing in high school, he wouldn’t have turned into the town terror. But given his close association with Mr. Hyde, probably not.

“You were a ball player?” Morgan wet the tip of her finger with her tongue and began picking up crumbs from the box. He handed her the rest of his slice.

“For a while. Football, mostly, but I played baseball until my junior year. Then I decided being a punk was more fun.” Not to mention it got more of a rise out of his dad. He gave himself a mental head-slap. Sometimes his younger self seemed like a complete stranger as well as a complete jerk. “That ball has been around the world with me, thanks to Uncle Sam.”

“Do you still play?” She nibbled at the pizza, showing a flash of pink tongue that sent a jolt of heat southward to his groin.

He rolled onto his back beside her so that he couldn’t look at her. “Yeah, I was in a recreational league in Davenport. The department had a team.”

“Maybe you could start one here. I’ll bet Nando would be good. Esteban used to be an athlete in high school. Maybe you could get your brothers involved. You could probably put a decent team together.”

He glanced back at her bright smile. He let one corner of his mouth inch up. “Maybe.”

They both heard what he didn’t say.
If I can hang onto this job for more than the next week.

She dropped her gaze. “Just a thought.”

He felt a quick pang of something in his gut. Longing? He didn’t want to examine it too much, not now at least. Best not to get any hopes up. “I’ll keep it in mind if I can get around what the mayor’s got planned for me.”

“What’s Hilton done now?”

“He’s got me on the agenda for the next council meeting. Next week.”

Her brow furrowed. “How can he possibly object to your performance as chief with what happened today? You caught the freakin’ dumper.”

“Not exactly. We caught the dumper’s assistant.”

“What do you mean?”

Erik sighed. It didn’t seem like privileged information. “Terrell doesn’t strike me as the type to set something like this up on his own. Somebody else was probably involved.”

“Have you asked him?”

“Not yet. He’s full of painkillers for his cracked nose.” There was a beat of silence between them.

She took a sip of iced tea. “He had me in a choke hold. We both thought he had a knife. Nobody’s going to hold that against you.”

“Ah, Bambi, never underestimate my faulty interpersonal skills.” He tried for ironic, but his tone was a lot closer to bitter.
Not good
.
Never let them see you sweat.

“What will you do?”

He shrugged. “Go there. Tell my side of whatever Pittman’s got to say. Hope for the best.”

“When’s the council meeting?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

She stared down at him, eyes wide. “Erik, you should talk to Pete.”

“Maybe.”
Actually, no.
He hadn’t earned the right to ask his brothers for help. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Erik…”

“Don’t worry about it, Bambi, I can take care of myself.” He reached out and pulled one of her corkscrew curls, letting it slip through his fingers.

She licked her lips, the tip of her tongue light pink against the darker burgundy of her lips. Her very full lips. Particularly the bottom lip, to which he’d paid a lot of attention in the shower.

Erik felt himself hardening again. Serious conversations could wait. Just as well since he didn’t have any answers for her. What he was going to do about all of this was still a mystery to him too.

He picked up the pizza box, tossing in crumpled napkins. “Cleanup time, Ms. Barrett.”

Morgan felt a dull ache somewhere around her stomach. Probably being held hostage, followed by late-night pizza, followed by later-night sex. All in all, a busy day.

More than enough to account for the hollow feeling in her chest, the grit behind her eyelids.

Of course, Erik might have to leave. When hadn’t she known that? He’d always been straight about it, never tried to mislead her. Whatever they had was white hot and most likely temporary.

Oh, she might still be able to see him if he lost his job as chief, depending on where he ended up. Maybe he’d come by to visit his family occasionally, when he wasn’t too busy. Maybe she could even visit him, if he didn’t get that nervous, male, “are-we-this-serious?” look in his eyes when he saw her walk in.

But she wouldn’t be able to find him in the Dew Drop anymore.

Knock it off, Morgan.
She’d never been big on self-pity, and she wasn’t going to give in to it now. After all, she’d only known him a few weeks and she wasn’t the type to start active daydreaming just because she’d had sex with somebody. Or she never had been before.

And they didn’t just have sex. They made love.

She exhaled a quick breath, looking around the sparse bedroom.

Behind her, she heard Erik’s step. “Morgan?”

“I think I’ll go back to Cedar Creek.” She didn’t turn as she began to pull on her clothes. “I’ve got stuff I need to do before tomorrow.”

She turned then. He was watching her, his eyes dark. “Are you sure? You could stay over.”

“I can’t. Really. Thanks for a…great evening.” Her voice sounded brittle, like one of those women in bad English movies.

“Any time.” One corner of his mouth inched up again.