The Last Execution (28 page)

“You’re killing me.” The toaster popped, reminding J.T. of the eggs in the frying pan. He turned down the burner, realizing he was still bare-chested. “I’ll be right back.” He jogged down the hall to his bedroom and slipped on a T-shirt.

“Not fair,” she complained when he returned. “I love to look at your chest.”

“My grandmother would skin me alive for showing up at her table half-dressed.”

She smoothed the front of his shirt, flexing her fingers on his pecs and sliding down to his abs. “But I’m not your grandmother.”

He leaned down and kissed her. Lightly, because anything more and supper would burn, and he wouldn’t give a damn. “You’re not standing around topless.” He offered a dare, praying she’d accept the challenge.

“Touché.” She patted his chest once and went back to buttering the toast.

Soon the kitchen smelled of omelets and strawberries. Leigh eating painted erotic pictures in J.T.’s mind. She captured a drop of errant jelly with a flick of her tongue and sent an electrical pulse through him strong enough to power the lights in the entire complex.

His relationship with her had started out as fun and games. Now he found himself on a trip down a dead-end road. One he couldn’t turn back from. Eventually, she’d figure out she needed a family man. Then she’d turn a critical eye toward him, forcing him to walk away.

“I had no idea I was hungry.” Leigh pushed her empty plate back with a moan. “You’d make a great chef. Or somebody a good husband.”

“I do think I’d look good in one of those Waffle House hats.” No way was he touching the husband comment. Instead, he started gathering the dishes. Leigh pushed him aside, insisting she rinse and put them in the dishwasher.

While she busied herself at the sink, J.T. entertained himself by taking her hair down. Pin by pin, he loosened the twist and carefully removed the rubber band. He threaded his fingers through the blonde silk and held the curls to his right cheek, letting the softness warm his scar.

“Nice,” he whispered. “You should wear it down more often.”

“Doesn’t fit my daytime persona.” She turned into his arms and looked up through long eyelashes. “I’m glad you like it. Oh, I can’t have you thinking I don’t believe in equal rights.” In one motion, she whisked her blouse over her head and tossed it toward the bar.

Without hesitation, he shed his shirt. She stood on tiptoe and covered his lips with hers, sliding her tongue across his. Sugar and strawberry swirled inside his mouth. J.T. reached behind her, unhooked her bra, and pushed the straps off her shoulders, then tossed the piece of beige silk on top of her blouse. Her arms slid around him, tugging him closer. Bare flesh touched. Fire flashed. Skin seared. He lifted her higher. Heartbeat against heartbeat. She pressed against his bulging erection and made a low guttural sound. His breath caught. His heart stumbled. He had to be careful, or he’d be in over his head.

Their tongues danced, giving and taking. He wanted her naked, spread out under him, begging for release. Tonight they’d finish what they’d started. With no interruptions.

He’d discover all her secret places, where and how she liked to be touched. He’d find her sensitive areas and pleasure her. He needed to do these things for her. Judging from the heat rolling off her body, she wanted the same from him. Time stopped. Nothing mattered except her wants and his needs.

J.T. picked her up and hurried down the hall, her soft laugh reverberating against his chest. He gently put her feet on the floor, and they finished undressing themselves. His mouth dried while he drank in the sight of each satiny smooth inch of her bare skin. J.T. caught her hand and stopped her when she hooked her thumbs in her thong. This he wanted to do himself. He dropped down on his knees and removed the flesh-colored strip of lace with as much reverence as his shaking hands would permit. The nearness of her proved too much, and he had to taste her.

He slid his tongue across her soft skin and found her wet with desire. She thrust her hips forward with a startled cry. He thumbed her delicate folds open and took one long, hard lick, her flavor flooding his mouth.

“Jesus, I’m in heaven,” he whispered against her tender flesh, nudging her legs further apart. Over and over again, he stroked and licked with her hands buried in his hair holding him in place.

“Oh,” she murmured. “My. God. I’m—I’m—”

He increased his efforts. The drive to please her overpowered him. He needed her to unravel on his tongue.

“Come for me.” His thumb found her clit and rubbed in small circles. Her legs trembled. She cried out his name. It was a beautiful sound. Her knees buckled, and he caught her, gently moving her backward until he lay next to her on his bed.

Leigh stretched, arms overhead, back bowed, her smile one of sated passion. A sexual kitten with wild blonde hair fanned across the pillows. Her gaze drifted down his body, stopping at his raging hard-on.

She reached for him, wrapped her fingers around him, and with a feather touch, she traced the length. Up and down. Her gaze, intense, wanton, slid up his body, and locked on his eyes. When she pulled his hand to her breast, he felt his heart stumble.

“More. Please.” Her legs spread in invitation.

Her actions were carnal, erotic, and damn powerful. With herculean effort, he kept himself from coming in her hand. Instead, he slid down, kissing the inside of her thighs, pausing for one more taste of heaven before licking his way back up. Her soft, creamy breasts were beautiful. Rosy nipples waited for him to kiss. He wasted no time pulling one into his mouth.

****

Leigh arched her back and willingly surrendered all control. On fire, her body teetered on the verge of incineration. Heat licked through her flesh with every touch of his tongue, his mouth, and his hands. Self-combustion was near. She tunneled her fingers in his hair and held him to her breast. The tug of his mouth sent shards of lust rocketing through her.

He rose up on one elbow, his dark green eyes clouded with need, and the lone dimple winked at her with his smile. The yearning in her body spread to her heart.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered.

“You make me feel beautiful.” Tomorrow she’d deal with whatever life threw at her, face criminals, and fight for her son. Tonight she was a woman. A woman who needed the man making love to her. A woman who needed him to end the painful throbbing between her legs.

Leigh covered his hand with hers and slid it down across her stomach to the pulsing center of her body. “I need you. All of you. Inside me.”

“Have I ever refused you anything?”

“Don’t start now.” Anticipation burned through her while he ripped open the foil packet and then covered himself.

He entered her with a solid push. Filled her, stretched her, belonged inside her.

Strong hands slid under her, angling her hips upward. She locked her legs around him, matching his moves, thrust for thrust. Again and again. Over and over. Leigh didn’t know where she began and he ended. The lines blurred. They became one, racing toward the same plateau, barreling end over end. She didn’t want the feeling to stop, but the pressure building in her core was too great to hold back.

His lips covered hers, taking her breath away. He pulled back inches and whispered, “I’ve got you. Let go.”

His hips pistoned, causing an explosion deep inside her, rolling like a tidal wave. Unstoppable. Heaven and hell converged at the juncture where their bodies joined. Shattering and brilliant, she convulsed around him, pulling him deeper inside.

He hovered above her, his face taut and dark, a study in passion, his breathing, quick and shallow. His hands held her tight against his body and ground his hips hard against her skin. When he came with a groan, Leigh marveled at the ecstasy on his face.

Chest heaving, body glistening with sweat, he rolled to his side and turned her with him. He flashed his incredibly sexy dimple at her, liquefying what was left of her heart.

“Amazing.” He leaned over. His lips covered hers in a tender, lingering kiss.

“Yes, it was.” Leigh laid her hand over his right cheek, covering his scar. He closed his eyes and leaned into her palm. Tears rose to the surface. Her heart filled. He trusted her.

“I’m so very sorry,” she whispered, afraid if she spoke louder, she’d sob.

“For?” He frowned over closed eyes.

“For the war. For your injury. For your pain.” She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I was lucky. An inch higher, I’d have lost an eye. A couple lower, my head. The surgeons did their best, considering where we were.” His eyes opened, his gaze raking across her face for a second before he closed them again.

“I’m grateful to them.”

He huffed out a grunt. “Me too.”

A painful contraction squeezed her heart and slammed it hard against her chest. When had she fallen in love with him? When had being in his arms, touching and being touched by this man, become her life’s breath? She tried to put into words what was in her heart. A lump in the back of her throat stopped her. Did he want to hear them? Did he truly believe she shouldn’t get mixed up with him? Or was it the other way around? Perhaps he didn’t want to get mixed up in the drama of her life.

She savored the nearness of him, swallowing back the building emotions
. Move away from the subject of love. Don’t lose what you’ve just found.
They lay in each other’s arms, quiet and peaceful. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

“I’m thinking about asking for a leave.” She kept her words low in case he’d fallen asleep. Sleepy green eyes opened and met her gaze.

“Don’t. You’re too strong to quit.”

“I wish I knew what to expect. What if Casey gets cornered by the media and bombarded with questions?”

“He’s a big boy. Pity the reporter who corners him.”

“Still...” Leigh snuggled closer to his strong body. Tomorrow was soon enough to make decisions. Tonight, the man lying next to her was wide-awake. She leaned over and traced a line down to his nipple with her tongue. Her gaze stayed on his face. Emerald eyes darkened with lust while she tasted his flesh. When she closed her teeth and bit down, a moan rumbled from deep in his chest.

A second later, she found herself flipped on to her back with J.T. sliding on a fresh condom before settling between her thighs, his erection already renewed, the glow in his eyes unmistakable.

“Whatever happens, I’ll be right there with you. Never doubt that.”

Leigh gave herself over to him, relishing the first thrust. The slow and steady rhythm of their joining set a pace of leisurely give and take. She tilted her hips to take him further into her body. Further into her life. Further into her heart.

Chapter Twenty

Monday, May 10, 10:00 p.m.

Doyle turned off his headlights before pulling into the driveway. His stomach was in a constant state of flux. A headache lived at the base of his neck.

Sweat coated his skin by the time he closed the front door. Stealth was his specialty, yet his hands trembled while he undid the buttons on his shirt. Stepping lightly, he made his way across the living room, undressing while he moved to the bedroom. A noise stopped him. He leaned against the wall and listened in the dark for a minute before moving on.

He’d had a tough time getting Sara McBride’s address and still hadn’t identified the name of her daughter’s tormentor. The previous executions had been simple. There’d been an abusive spouse who’d needed to die. This case was proving to be more difficult than he’d expected.

Tonight, he’d driven out to the McBrides’ home, and luck had been on his side. She and her daughter were sitting on the porch swing. He’d waited until the young detective drove off, and he’d followed her to an apartment building in Atlanta. After a couple of hours, he assumed she was in for the night, so he headed home. Eventually, she’d face down the man who attacked her and her mother, and he wanted to know the bastard’s name.

He tried to figure out why he was drawn to Leigh McBride and her family. The night of the accident, he helped her get out of her car, and they’d connected on a level he didn’t understand. Then while her mother was in the ER, Leigh had comforted her father and son. That alone was enough evidence to convince him of her loyalty and love for her family.

He’d be patient. She’d lead him to the source of her misery. He had a bullet with the bastard’s name on it.

****

Tuesday, May 11, 4:30 a.m.

J.T. sat in the silence of his living room. After Leigh had fallen asleep in his arms, he’d eased out of bed curious about the file waiting on his laptop.
Shit.
David had sent information on both Carrington and Leigh. J.T. swallowed hard. Mixed emotions stormed his sense of right and wrong. She’d be furious if she knew. Yet, he couldn’t look away. Like some sick voyeur, he stared at the screen and read every word.

The State of Georgia vs. Jason Carrington
read like a horror movie script. The pictures of Leigh taken by a rape unit while she lay in the emergency room ripped his pounding heart wide open. He memorized every cut and contusion. The woman in his bed and the one on the screen bore scant resemblance to each other. Deep purple bruises had covered a face swollen to the point she was barely recognizable.

The slow burn of anger rushed through his veins, sizzled, ready to burst into flames. He’d killed men with his bare hands while in combat in Afghanistan. The Marines had trained him in the proficiency of silently dispatching the enemy. He’d never wanted to use those skills more than he did this second. J.T. wanted Carrington to suffer the same pain, the same fear, the same feeling of helplessness Leigh must’ve endured. His fists itched to make the son of a bitch beg for mercy. Death would be sweet justice.