Lipstick on His Collar (9 page)

Long honey hair, knotted and tangled from the wind, covered her face, sticking to the smeared blood path under her nose. Her hands trembled as she shoved it back. The flash of his cell-phone camera caused her eyes to squint.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Documenting.” He dropped the bag and snapped the phone closed, sliding it back in his pocket. He smoothed her hair away from her cheek, running his thumb over her cold skin. “I figured you’d want to clean up before we go to the police station so you needed verification he hit you. I only heard it, I didn’t see it.”

“I knew he watched me but I never thought…” Flashing green eyes blinked then looked at him with silver tears cresting the bottom. Her anger evaporated and shock settled in. The shudders racking her body knifed into his chest and he swallowed a burst of fury. Her voice was timid. “Bram, he hit me.”

He cupped her face and kissed her forehead. “Clean up and then let me take you to the station. That bastard needs to go to jail before he hurts someone.”

“He was here.” The tinny fright in her tone scared him and he shushed her but she kept talking. “Nothing was ever missing, just…my toothbrush was on the sink when I’d put it away and my panty drawer was messed up. My bills would be out of the envelope or folded wrong. I’d open my laptop and it would already be working. Oh God, Bram, he has my passwords and my banking information and—”

“Locks and passwords can be changed.”

“He’s still out there! He said—”

“He won’t touch you again, I promise.”

She dove into his arms with a rough sob but didn’t cry. Her short nails clung to his shoulders, twisting his shirt and hugging him hard. He wrapped his arms around her and just held her, absorbing her tremors. His lips grazed her temple. Free of makeup, her cheeks blushed rose, kissed by a too-cold wind. With one hand, he fisted her hair and brought it to his nose. Beneath the scent of lemon and sex, a subtle fragrance made him smile.

In the old days, firefighters developed a nose for smoke, for the unseen tendrils of a lurking spark. His nostrils flared. He could almost smell it, almost feel it, taste the flicker. Somehow, this one-night stand had shifted, altered, morphed into a taste of possibility. Old lessons flooded his mind. A smoldering ember can lie dormant just below the surface, nestled safe and secure in a layer that doesn’t cool—the hot spot. You can walk right over it and not feel the heat unless you knew what to look for. But with one tiny breeze, one breath of oxygen to stroke it the right way—
whoosh
, intense flame. Firefighters called it a rekindle.

He tightened his embrace, pulling her closer. His mysterious goddess had rekindled the burn. He’d found her, his hotspot. Once, in a bar somewhere in Tennessee, he’d thought he saw her. His heart had boomed with drumlike intensity at the back of a scarlet dress, caramel hair swinging free. A knot had jammed into his throat. Then she’d turned around and it plummeted to his queasy stomach. The woman had smiled at him, interest raising her brow. Bram had looked away.

It hadn’t been her.

It had never been her.

Until one day, today, it had been.

He wasn’t letting go this time.

“I got blood on your shirt.” She smoothed her hand down the center of his chest. The dark wet stain on her wrist seemed to surprise her and she sighed. “Both of them.”

“’Sokay, I know where there’s a Laundromat I can use,” he teased.

A soft snort brought her head up. Wet green eyes met his and she nibbled her lip. Tattered, frayed, like a cotton sheet snapping on a breeze, her words floated on an exhale. “I’m scared, Bram.”

“Don’t be. He comes near you again, and I’ll kill him myself and hide his body where not even the wolves will find it.”

Her mouth quivered with a small smile. “Will you stay? I mean, tonight…and not just for sex?”

“I’m staying and I’ll still be here when the sun comes up, I promise.” He briskly rubbed her arm. “Wash up and let’s go. We’ll both feel better when he’s behind bars.”

“Come with me.”

“I said I’d take you—”

“No. Shower. You could use one too and I-I don’t want to let you go.”

Fingers tightly laced with his, she tugged him down a short hall, through a bedroom with rumpled blankets and into the bathroom. They didn’t talk, just stripped down and stepped into the bathtub. The citrusy-scented soap melted into a froth, slicking across both their skins, warm, soothing, cleansing. Bram tenderly wiped the blood from her face, kissing each corner of her mouth. Water sluiced across her breasts, over her stomach, carrying away the shimmering foam but she never dropped her eyes from his. The stickiness of blood and sex sloughed down the drain as their fingers caressed with a new purpose. Not sex, not lust, but tenderness, making new memories, ones to hold.

She took the washcloth from him, her sight trained firmly on the foam. The terrycloth was warm, silky as she swished it across his stomach, but she was lost in thoughts he could only wonder about. Her face lifted and he drank in her freshly scrubbed beauty. Wide full lips still swollen from his mouth curved into a bow and his chest grew heavy.

Beneath their feet, some sandpapery flowers lined the tub floor, protection against falling. The strange sensation that it was too late, that he had already fallen, reached out and rattled his spine when she rose to her toes and pressed a simple kiss to his cheek.

Before she could step away, his arm slipped around her and tugged her close. For ages, she searched, looking past his skin, past his eyes, deep into his soul.

“What do you want, Bram?”

“You.” He never meant to whisper but the savage, sudden longing inside robbed his words of heat, leaving only raw honesty. “I don’t mean just for sex. I told you once before and I still mean it. I want to find out if this is real.”

Those flower decals were all that kept him upright when she smiled and leaned closer. “How? I took a job out of state, Bram. And you’re from where, Colorado?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be here for the next couple of weeks. You said you’re here until mid-December, right? I travel the entire country. Where’s your new job at?”

“WKGT. Michigan, just south of Lansing.”

His mind whirled like the spin cycle. Michigan. He had an assignment outlined for the New Year in Ohio, which wasn’t that far away from where she was moving. After that, maybe…

“Look, I found you this time. I’m not about to let you go over some fucking geographic issue. Let’s just play these next few weeks by ear, all right? A few weeks getting to know each other here and then…” Bram swallowed. Fear had no place on the front line. It only left you open to getting burned. He charged ahead. “I can live anywhere as long as I can travel. Colorado, Michigan, doesn’t matter.”

Her eyes went wide, rounding in shock as her lips parted. “You’d move for me?”

The curve of her cheek fit perfectly into his palm. “No. I’d move to give
us
a chance. We have something. I don’t want it to flicker out from neglect.”

“But moving…” Her gaze searched from his hair to his chin, twisting her golden brows into a knot. His thumb slid up, stroking the tension away. “What about your family, your friends?”

“What about
us
? Don’t you think we’re worth a shot?”

Satin lips, full wide satiny lips that had plagued his thoughts parted beneath his. A soft whimper broke from her when his tongue touched, teased hers, beckoning it to come out and play. Slowly, she pulled away. He stared in hurt confusion as she shut the water off with a quick twist and stepped from the shower, avoiding his eyes. Her long dark gold hair was piled under a pink towel and a matching one swathed around her body. Bram dragged another across his chest, ignoring the girly color, and wrapped it around his waist, following her to the bedroom.

“Lady?”

She didn’t answer, opening the closet and stepping behind the door. One wet towel sailed toward the bed then she walked into view. His heart slammed against his ribs with the force of a pressure jack. His eyes raked over the ice-blue cotton, from the overly long cuffs to the small flat buttons to the crimson lipstick stain on the collar.

“That’s my shirt.”

The pink towel around her hair highlighted the sassy spark brewing in her mossy eyes. The distance between them disappeared and her hand rested above his thundering heart.

“I didn’t want to leave that morning but if I had to, I wanted something to remember you by. I wore it home. I wore it when I came back to find you gone. I wear it to bed now. I don’t know why. It’s not like I ever forgot you, Bram.”

He brushed his fingers over the scarlet smudge, the cotton soft from who knew how many washings. The shirt was ruined. It was perfect, blemish and all, as long as she wore it. Her smile held more sunshine than summertime and he grinned back at her. Just before his lips touched hers, she halted him with a hand on his chest.

“I want that chance, to see where we go, what happens between us. My name is Kyra.” His breath lodged below her hand. One golden brow arched high and a wide smile curved her lips. “It means ‘lady’ or ‘of the sun’ depending on who you ask.”

His grin returned in full cheek-splitting wonder. His lady…of the sun. He chuckled, bringing his mouth to hers.

“Hello, Kyra.”

About the Author

Inez Kelley lives in the Midwest in a house affectionately called The Brady Bunch place. She spends most of her time in a cramped little office (Alice’s room) surrounded by a multitude of books, a plastic gecko and her computer. The growing horde of dust bunnies, her children’s request for meals and a never-ending laundry pile vie for her attentions as much as heroes with hard bodies and heroines with lusty appetites.

To learn more about Inez, please visit
www.inezkelley.com
. Send an email to Inez at
[email protected]
or stop by her blog
www.chicks-n-scratching.com
. Follow her on twitter at
http://twitter.com/Inez_Kelley
.

Look for these titles by Inez Kelley

Now Available:

Jinxed

Myla by Moonlight

When opposites attract, they are screwed three ways from Sunday.

Jinxed

© 2009 Inez Kelley

Frannie learned the hard way that a McHottie doesn’t always equal marriage material. She’s happy with her vanilla life. She has friends, a career and a double-D-powered vibrator. Then Fate shoves her, literally, into Prince Charming’s lap. His declaration of love at first sight is cute—and spikes her bullcrap meter into the red zone.

She’s more than willing to give in with her body. But she’s barricaded her heart behind castle walls—and permanently welded the gates shut.

Tragedy taught Jinx that time is too precious to waste, so when a series of uncanny coincidences thrusts Frannie into his life, he holds on tight. He knows she thinks he’s several fries short of a Happy Meal, but he’s determined to breach the fortress around her heart and give her a Happily Ever After.

Even if he has to carry her fanny-first into his kingdom.

Warning: Includes jelly shoes, a narcoleptic cat, and meatloaf. The steamy sex scenes may lead to fogged windows and wet panties, so proceed at your own risk. Do not attempt to read without the following items: tissues, napkins for spewed beverages, and a booty call on speed dial.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Jinxed:

Every nerve ending in her body sat up and screamed his name. The soft brush of his hair in her hands was more noticeable than the bite of the faucet in her lower back. The feel of his hot skin against hers created a firestorm, baking her in its heat. Her core turned to molten lava, she pulled his head back to hers and kissed him.
Gawd, hurry!

“Where’s my shaving kit?” he asked between nips of her lips.

Why does he want to shave now? Oh, wait…shaving kit…condoms. Hallelujah!
“Upstairs on my bed.”

At her last word, he groaned into her mouth. Wanting him more than imaginable, Frannie was reluctant to leave the warmth of his embrace. The bed could wait one minute longer. With lusty patience, Jinx made no move to unseat her, but allowed her tongue and lips to trace a blazing trail down his neck to his shoulder, where she nipped him with sharp teeth. The untamed savagery brought a shiver which spiked her desire another notch.

He caught her lips once more before whispering, “Let’s go upstairs.” She nodded into his kiss. “I love you, Frannie.”

Like a bucket of cold water, his words ripped Frannie from her sexual haze and she shoved him away. He stepped back against the wall and her ass slid into the sink basin. The washcloth soaked her ass, cold seeping into her skin.

“What did you say?”

“I said I love you.” Wide devil-dark eyes gaped at her.

The stunned expression on his face might have made her laugh if she hadn’t gone from incredibly horny to incredibly pissed-off in two-point-two seconds. Struggling to pluck her rear end from the sink, she flailed her legs until her thighs, still feeling his body’s crush, caught on the edge and pulled her free. She hopped off the vanity, grabbed her shirt and threw his at him. It hit him squarely in the face as he followed her out of the small bathroom. Her hair poofed with the force of her cotton tee being snapped over her head.

“You have no idea how royally you just screwed up. Two minutes ago, you were pretty much guaranteed a piece of ass. Now you can get the hell out of my house and stay out!”

Frannie grabbed her coffee mug, pitched the cold milky liquid down the sink and poured herself another cup she really didn’t want. She refused to think about how her hands were shaking and sloshing the hot brew around. Damn him! She’d really wanted an orgasm.

“I mean it, Frannie. It just hit me.” Still holding his shirt, he reached to cup her arm. She fixed him with a glare she hoped was colder than a witch’s tit in February but he was still gawking at her in amazement. “When I saw you, something smacked me in the gut. I knew it was…damn, Frannie, this is real.”

Frannie slammed the cup down on the table with a loud crack. Only the fact it was her favorite extra-heavy ceramic mug prevented it from cracking like an egg.