Heels and Heroes (8 page)

A soft touch on his shoulder brought his gaze back to her. Eyes wide with confusion and wonder stared back at him. She looked so goddamn beautiful and vulnerable, he ached to pull her into his arms. But she gripped his shoulder to balance with one hand and caressed the side of his face with the other. Rising onto her tiptoes, she drew him closer so she could kiss him.

Soft lips met his, and he wrapped his arm around her to settle his hand in the small of her back, the other he used to stroke her hip. The scent of his own shampoo surrounded him, blending with her lotion in a way that smelled better than anything. She smelled like his.

One of her hands brushed the back of his neck, and the other gripped his shoulder, like she feared falling if she let go. He deepened the kiss, lightly grazing her tongue with his, and she writhed against him.

He growled and pulled her closer, and the softness of her breasts pressed against his chest. God he wanted—needed—to see her, to touch that softness. To feel all of her under his hands, his body.

He pulled back for a moment and the sight of her knocked the air from his lungs. Lips swollen, her chest heaved as though she had to fight for air. She wanted him too, and that knowledge made him harden painfully.

She slid her hand from behind his neck to rest on his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Not a thing in the world,” he murmured and then bent to take her mouth with his again.

***

She’d been waiting for him to kiss her again, and could admit it to herself, if not to him. And seeing him defend her had only worsened her attraction, which had made her angrier, and hotter. It was a vicious cycle. Finally, she couldn’t wait for him to make a move anymore. She had to kiss him.

Mouth hot against hers, he took her lips a second time, and she molded her body to his, feeling his heat through her clothes, and how much he wanted her pressed against her stomach. He was so hard, and she ached to touch all of him. To feel his hands all over her. To feel him inside her.

She touched the side of his face, and his skin was rough even though he’d shaved before they left for her parents’ house. Then she slid her hand through his hair to the back of his neck.

His tongue touched hers, testing. The moan escaped her before she realized it was coming, and he gripped her even more tightly to him.

The ache screaming from her chest and between her legs blossomed. But she wanted him too much. What would happen when this was all over? When he no longer needed to hide her in his home? He was a first rate superhero. She knew exactly what would happen.

But she still didn’t want him to stop.

His mouth moved from hers and she made a noise in protest. But he didn’t step away from her body, instead he traced small kisses and nibbles down her neck until he reached her collarbone. The smell of soap and fabric softener intermingled with the slight scent of sweat and an underlying smell of him. It overpowered her, took away her ability to think, to consider what they were doing and what it might mean.

His hand moved up her side, slipping under her shirt to graze her flesh with the rougher skin of his palm. But it wasn’t enough; she needed to feel more of him, to have him naked against her.

Justice tugged at the buttons on her shirt, face intent with desire. Freeing her from it at last, he made a triumphant noise. He took one of her still-confined breasts in his hand, palming her before undoing her bra clasp.

He hissed at the sight of her naked breasts. Then he took her in his hand again. Massaging. Caressing. Loving. Raw jolts thrummed from where he ran his thumb over her nipple and it hardened into a small nub. She gasped as he took her other breast into his mouth. Licking and sucking and nibbling her to the brink.

She’d imagined his mouth on her, more times than she cared to admit, but the fantasies fell far short of the reality. Every inch of her skin ached to be touched by his callused hands and soft mouth. Licked by his clever tongue.

He played with her, moving between her breasts with his hands and mouth. Each touch sent a jolt to her core. Giving them both equal attention until she cried out and squirmed in his arms. Thoughts flew from her head as he slipped her jeans off and she yanked at his shirt. He stepped back and pulled it off himself. But his eyes never left her.

He took her all in, her legs, her breasts, and her expression. The intensity in his gaze was almost frightening in its power. But it didn’t scare her. His hungry eyes made her shiver with need. To be the target of such desire was overwhelming.

He slipped out of the rest of his clothes and she only had a moment to take in his sculpted body before he picked her up. She kissed his neck and chest while he carried her, tasting just a touch of salt.

He laid her carefully on the bed and she stared at him openly. A small smile on his face, he moved to cover her body with his.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, his mouth so close to her, warmth touched her ear when he spoke.

“You never seemed to. I mean—”

He cut off her argument by taking her mouth with his. His hands were everywhere, caressing her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. And when he slipped between her legs and touched her in her most sensitive place, her body arched toward him, almost out of her control.

“Always in those sexy little outfits. With your snappy comebacks and—”

“Justin, I—” Words escaped her as his mouth was back on her skin, moving quickly down her body. Then his insistent tongue joined his hand between her thighs, stroking her to new heights. Within seconds, an explosion rocked her body. If he hadn’t held her down, she would have flown off the bed, out of his room, into the sky. But he held her, whispering sweet words in her ear that she couldn’t understand.

His mouth was back on hers when she came back to herself. But she still couldn’t think right, couldn’t get enough air. And he moved against her in such a way she needed him even more desperately than she had before.

She reached between them, and gripped his arousal. He moaned against her neck, and she stroked him until he pulled her hand away.

“Vixen,” he muttered, and she let out a breathy laugh.

Then he was gone. She heard the
snick
of a condom wrapper, and his weight settled over her again before she could tell him to hurry. Propping himself on his elbows, he held her gaze, his dark eyes so intense with emotion her mouth went dry. Slowly, as if he was afraid to hurt her, he pushed himself into her heat.

Sweat touched his brow from the effort of moving slowly. But she didn’t want slow. She needed him to take her with the same intensity she saw in his eyes.

She gripped his butt hard and writhed against him, her body aching and trembling with need. Groaning against her mouth, he moved. Thrusting and sliding in a delicious rhythm that she could barely keep up with. She flew again. This time, with Justice at her side.

Chapter Seven

The smell of bacon woke her, and she sat up in the bed, confused until the night’s memories came rushing back to her. Justice, defending her against her brother’s matter-of-fact insults. Justice, loving her with his hands, his mouth, his body. And Justice, who now seemed to be making her breakfast. She lay back down for a moment, reveling in the pleasantly warm afterglow that remained after an almost-sleepless, but entirely wonderful, night.

After a few minutes of fighting the urge to slip back into sleep, Brenda forced herself out of bed. She grabbed a T-shirt from a clean pile that had yet to be put away from the top of his dresser and pulled it over her head. None of her clothing seemed to have made the trip with her, so she padded down to her room and grabbed underwear and a pair of cotton shorts she normally slept in.

The woman who greeted her in the bathroom mirror looked like she’d spent the night being ravaged and doing a bit of ravaging herself. Brenda grinned stupidly and tried to get her hair into some semblance of order. When she was as good as she was going to get without a shower, she walked out to the kitchen.

“Morning, beautiful,” Justice’s face lit with a masculine smile, and he pulled her into his arms for a kiss that made her heart race. “I hope you like bacon,” he said, giving her a wicked grin as he returned to the stove.

“I love bacon,” she replied, and the smell of it filled her nose as it sizzled on the stove, making her mouth water. She hoped cooking was a domestic skill he actually excelled at. It would be the only one she had seen evidence of since her arrival at his home.

He sent her from the kitchen and a few minutes later appeared in the dining room with two plates full of bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, and toast. Her arteries and waistline protested, but she dug into the food vigorously.

“Wow, you can cook,” she said, after swallowing a perfectly fried potato.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” He grinned at her, almost halfway through with his plate. “Just because I don’t like to clean up—and can’t bake—doesn’t mean I don’t like to eat well.”

“So, what’s on our agenda today,” she asked, wondering how on earth he could eat so fast.

“I’m going to check in with the League, see what progress they’ve made since yesterday. We need to find this guy soon, before he moves on.”

She nodded. If they didn’t get Howler, she would need to follow him wherever he moved on to. She was the only one with her particular power that she knew of, and she wouldn’t feel right leaving some other group of superheroes to deal with what she was now thinking of as her mess. That would be tough to do; getting out of work now and then was okay, but she’d feel like an irresponsible jerk if she had to just take off for weeks to find the guy. “I’ll go with you.”

“No, you should stay here.”

“Excuse me?” She bristled at his tone. She didn’t care how good the man was in bed, he couldn’t give her orders. Well, technically being a League council member to her normal membership he could, but she wasn’t about to let him get by on a technicality.

“Look, Bren, I know you want to get this guy, but he wants to get you, too. I think it’s best if you stay here where it’s safe. I’ll let you know if we need you.”

“If? Don’t you mean when?”

“Of course.” He got up from the table and grabbed her plate along with his own, stopping to plant a kiss on the top of her head, and then headed for the kitchen.

A few minutes later he reappeared from the bedroom, wearing his uniform, with a long coat over it, probably to hide his appearance from his neighbors. He carried his mask in one hand, and his keys in the other. “I’ll be in touch. Stay out of sight, and call me if you see any sign of him, okay?”

She gave him a short nod and stiffened when he pulled her close for a kiss good-bye. As his Porsche roared out of the driveway, she muttered a curse under her breath. Who did he think she was? She wouldn’t sit on the sidelines while other people got hurt hunting her villain. But he said he would call, and she trusted him, didn’t she? He’d call her if they found Howler, and she just have to keep from going crazy until then.

After washing the dishes, which Justice had conveniently left piled in the sink, Brenda took a shower and donned her practical superhero outfit, minus the mask, and then wandered around the house. She didn’t mean to pry, but couldn’t help herself from straightening up his room. She made the bed, and then glanced through the collection of books that lined his wall, most of which revolved around police procedures and evidence collection, with a few mystery novels thrown in, as well.

A quick peek into his nightstand drawers turned into a full-fledged search. The one on the side of the bed she’d woken up on was nearly empty, save for some loose change and a long-forgotten travel-size bottle of aspirin. But the drawer on his side of the bed had a far more interesting stash.

Her face burned when she picked up the box of condoms and set them on top of the nightstand. He’d torn them open with such haste that the top and half of one side was ripped away and was sitting in the drawer next to the box. Under that, she found a small container of mints and a half-empty wrapper of antacids.

Beneath those and still more change and an extra set of Porsche keys on a ring with other keys she couldn’t so easily identify, was a small stack of photographs.

The pictures, nine in all, showed the smiling faces of an obviously happy family. The man in the picture sported the same hair, skin, and facial features as Justice, though his clothes placed him in an era before Justice was a man. The little boy in the photos had to be Justice. He wore the smile she’d glimpsed only a few times since meeting him, wide and open, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

The other two in the pictures could only be his mother and younger sister. The woman was blonde like Brenda, but her hair was a few shades darker. The little girl’s long, blonde pigtails were much lighter than her mother’s hair, at a young age anyway. After leafing through photographs of the family picnicking, boating, and sitting around a gorgeously decorated Christmas tree, Brenda placed the pictures and other items back into the drawer.

Guilt tugged at her, but she couldn’t help feeling happy after glimpsing that cheerful family. Justice had never mentioned them. It was probably a sore subject since he’d moved to Chicago and likely didn’t get to see them as much as he wanted to anymore, but it surprised her he hadn’t at least said something about them in passing.

The sound of her cell phone interrupted her thoughts, and she shut the drawer and sprinted down the hall to grab it off the coffee table. She frowned at her work number, but flipped the phone open.

“Hello?”

“Brenda?” Maria’s voice sounded frantic.

“What’s wrong, Maria?”

“Can you get in touch with that superhero you were with the other day? Something’s happening here at the hospital; we’ve called the police but—” Abruptly, all sound on the line stopped.

“Maria? Maria what’s going on?” Brenda pulled the cell phone away from her ear and looked at it. The screen read: Call Failed.

She grabbed her purse from the coffee table and tossed her phone in. She would call Justice on her way. After making a quick stop in the spare bedroom to grab her mask, she hit the road.