invoke in her.
When he spoke, his voice rumbled deep in his chest. He had a beautiful cultured voice, not Queen’s English, but a rougher, darker version. When Cherry had said his accent made her melt, Bill had almost agreed out loud as her insides turned to molten-hot liquid. When she watched his firm lips move, she wanted to touch them, run the tips of her fingers over them, and see what it felt like to press her mouth against his.
She bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment. They had come close to kissing a couple of times. It just made her want him all the more.
She ambled down the stairs into the gym and imagined his smell became stronger, muskier. Despite the bright white light, she could feel his presence, absorb his scent, the warm, comforting fragrance of him filled her as she wrapped her arms around herself, hugged the mug close to her chest, and felt heat spread, warming her heart.
He couldn’t have been gone long. A small towel had been dropped on the bench press, absently forgotten, so she put her soup down, picked it up, and started to fold it. It didn’t belong to one of her brothers. Biting her lip, she contemplated the towel for a moment, held it in her hands before she pressed it to her face and breathed him in.
She closed her eyes and pictured him half-naked in her gym, the warmth in her chest spread farther, reached beyond her fluttering stomach. Her breath quickened as she brought the towel down to hug against her body. Heat moved on still farther as she imagined him working out on the equipment, sweating as he moved above her, inside her.
Her eyes popped open, and she dropped the towel like it scorched her. She grabbed her soup and ran back up the stairs as though he were pursuing her. Heart pumping, lungs heaving, she threw herself into one of the kitchen chairs.
She’d never felt more tired or more lonely in her entire life. She’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted him, and she didn’t know why. She didn’t understand this feeling. It stirred her, excited her, and frightened the goddamn life out of her.
The jangling ring of the telephone jarred her thoughts back.
“Bill. It’s Jack…I’ve just gotten a phone call from Mrs. Forrest from over in Willow Field. She said her son came back home this evening on foot. Left his cousin’s car somewhere, and his clothes were splattered with blood.” He paused and in the silence Bill could hear her own breathing. “Bill? Are you okay? Are you panting?” The silence was shorter this time.
“Yeah, I just went for a run.” She closed her eyes as she lied to her best friend and cousin.
“Oh. Okay. I suggested she tell us where he would be right now, but she says he’s a good for nothin’ layabout who changed his clothes and took off with her earnings. He’ll probably drink till dawn. She reckons if we get to her house early tomorrow morning, he’ll be sleeping like a baby and won’t give us any trouble. She’ll pack up the clothes he left for her to wash and lock away his dead daddy’s shotgun for us.”
“A very obliging lady, if you ask me”
“Sounds to me like she’s frightened of her boy. She probably just wants rid of him. I think the shotgun scared her. If he’s used it once, he’ll use it again. Next time it could be worse.” He paused. “I’ll pick you up at six at your house. I’ve got two other cars meeting us there. We’ll do a check before we go in, just to make sure Mama’s being straight with us about that gun.”
“I’ll be ready and waiting,” she replied wearily.
There was a short silence. “Are you okay, Bill?” His voice was quiet and gentle. She wasn’t used to being spoken to like that—most of her boys slapped her on the back, ruffled her hair, and ignored her. She didn’t need sympathy for something she didn’t understand herself.
“Sure, I’m fine. Just a little tired. It’s been a long stretch, and I’m ready for my days off.”
“I know you were supposed to be
When he spoke, his voice rumbled deep in his chest. He had a beautiful cultured voice, not Queen’s English, but a rougher, darker version. When Cherry had said his accent made her melt, Bill had almost agreed out loud as her insides turned to molten-hot liquid. When she watched his firm lips move, she wanted to touch them, run the tips of her fingers over them, and see what it felt like to press her mouth against his.
She bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment. They had come close to kissing a couple of times. It just made her want him all the more.
She ambled down the stairs into the gym and imagined his smell became stronger, muskier. Despite the bright white light, she could feel his presence, absorb his scent, the warm, comforting fragrance of him filled her as she wrapped her arms around herself, hugged the mug close to her chest, and felt heat spread, warming her heart.
He couldn’t have been gone long. A small towel had been dropped on the bench press, absently forgotten, so she put her soup down, picked it up, and started to fold it. It didn’t belong to one of her brothers. Biting her lip, she contemplated the towel for a moment, held it in her hands before she pressed it to her face and breathed him in.
She closed her eyes and pictured him half-naked in her gym, the warmth in her chest spread farther, reached beyond her fluttering stomach. Her breath quickened as she brought the towel down to hug against her body. Heat moved on still farther as she imagined him working out on the equipment, sweating as he moved above her, inside her.
Her eyes popped open, and she dropped the towel like it scorched her. She grabbed her soup and ran back up the stairs as though he were pursuing her. Heart pumping, lungs heaving, she threw herself into one of the kitchen chairs.
She’d never felt more tired or more lonely in her entire life. She’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted him, and she didn’t know why. She didn’t understand this feeling. It stirred her, excited her, and frightened the goddamn life out of her.
The jangling ring of the telephone jarred her thoughts back.
“Bill. It’s Jack…I’ve just gotten a phone call from Mrs. Forrest from over in Willow Field. She said her son came back home this evening on foot. Left his cousin’s car somewhere, and his clothes were splattered with blood.” He paused and in the silence Bill could hear her own breathing. “Bill? Are you okay? Are you panting?” The silence was shorter this time.
“Yeah, I just went for a run.” She closed her eyes as she lied to her best friend and cousin.
“Oh. Okay. I suggested she tell us where he would be right now, but she says he’s a good for nothin’ layabout who changed his clothes and took off with her earnings. He’ll probably drink till dawn. She reckons if we get to her house early tomorrow morning, he’ll be sleeping like a baby and won’t give us any trouble. She’ll pack up the clothes he left for her to wash and lock away his dead daddy’s shotgun for us.”
“A very obliging lady, if you ask me”
“Sounds to me like she’s frightened of her boy. She probably just wants rid of him. I think the shotgun scared her. If he’s used it once, he’ll use it again. Next time it could be worse.” He paused. “I’ll pick you up at six at your house. I’ve got two other cars meeting us there. We’ll do a check before we go in, just to make sure Mama’s being straight with us about that gun.”
“I’ll be ready and waiting,” she replied wearily.
There was a short silence. “Are you okay, Bill?” His voice was quiet and gentle. She wasn’t used to being spoken to like that—most of her boys slapped her on the back, ruffled her hair, and ignored her. She didn’t need sympathy for something she didn’t understand herself.
“Sure, I’m fine. Just a little tired. It’s been a long stretch, and I’m ready for my days off.”
“I know you were supposed to be
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