To her surprise, he put an arm over his eyes and appeared to relax. He took two deep breaths and let out the last one in a long, slow exhalation. "All right. What stuff?"
Well, that was better. Calmer anyway. "The man had the woman on her knees and he kept pushing her face into his crotch."
Luther froze again.
"It was like he was screwing her, but not where he should be."
"Gaby," Luther choked out. "Shush."
"I know there's a lot of deviant stuff out there and that men pay women to do a lot of weird things. But like I told you, I don't watch television, and whenever I hear music playing on the street, I don't really pay much attention to the words. I don't really know what's normal and what isn't. What that guy did didn't look normal, but I wanted to know—"
"Give me a minute here, okay?"
"Just tell me what he was doing and if it's acceptable or not. The girl sure didn't seem to think so. She hated it. Hell, he'd had to beat her up to make her do it."
"I don't believe this."
"The thing is, Mort was upset that she was hurt, but he didn't seem confused about what the jerk did or anything."
In one swift movement, Luther was over her. Now he looked angry. "Are you playing with me?"
Flat on her back? In the sun? In the middle of the community?
"No." His blond hair, still damp from his exertions, went wavy in places. That seemed very at odds with such a rugged male. "I never have time for playing. You should know that by now."
"Don't start with the confusing talk, Gaby. I want a straight answer." His hands gripped her shoulders. "You honestly don't know what oral sex is?"
"Oral sex," She supposed that sounded right for what she'd seen. It was definitely sex of some sort. "You want plain speaking? Fine. I've seen the prostitutes jerk guys off. I've seen them bend over stuff and let Johns do them from the back, like a dog."
Luther's eyes widened a little more with every word she spoke.
"I've even seen them—"
His hand smashed over her mouth. "Jesus, woman." Additional heat darkened his high cheekbones. "Do you spend all your time watching hookers at work?"
He'd silenced her, so she shrugged. She'd have a tough time avoiding seeing it where she lived. Every time she stepped out of the apartment, the whores were there, sometimes doing their business in a parked car, sometimes in an alley.
Sometimes in plain sight, if that's what the John wanted.
Luther's hand shifted. His fingers touched her mouth. Lightly. Caressing. With one finger, he parted her lips.
"Gaby, I want to kiss you."
Could have fooled her. "You look more like you want to strangle me."
"That too." He continued touching her mouth. "Do you think it'd be okay if I kissed you?"
She had to think about it. It wouldn't be smart, would in fact be idiotic—"Yeah."
Luther bent down, hesitated, then came closer. He brushed his mouth over hers. He didn't do much, just hovered there, teasing her. His mouth barely touching hers.
Gaby felt his hot breath as it accelerated. She felt his building tension and her own anticipation.
Then she felt Luther's absence.
She opened her eyes and saw him sitting up beside her. She waited, and he looked down at her with accusation, need, and so much more. "You are one dangerous little girl, Gabrielle Cody."
Chapter Thirteen
"You just figured that out?"
He plucked a blade of grass, then another. Looking away, he said, "I haven't figured out anything. Around you, nothing is clear."
"I know." She was an abnormality of the first order. How could a nice, normal cop like Luther Cross ever understand her, when she didn't entirely understand herself?
"So." He tossed the blades of grass aside. "Rather than splurge on a cheap radio, you watch the local streetwalkers for entertainment." He looked at her. "Or is it edification?"
If he wanted to snipe, she could snipe right back. "Given your pinched-up look and the way Mort dodged the topic, it's pretty obvious that if I don't watch the hookers on occasion, I'm not going to learn much."
He turned coldly austere. "Anything you need to know, you can't learn from them."
"Can't learn it from you either, apparently." She sat up and brushed dried grass and dirt from her hair. Luther hadn't moved that far away, but she now felt a definite distance between them that hadn't been there a few moments ago. "I'm so dangerous, you're suddenly afraid of me?"
Luther pulled up one knee and crossed his arms over it. "Truth is, Gaby, I'm more afraid for you than of you. You're the strangest girl I've ever met. At times, there's this awful vulnerability about you that makes me damn near want to cry. Then you make me so hot that I can't breathe. Then you calmly tell me, a detective, that you played vigilante and stabbed someone."
Hurt, Gaby pushed to her feet. "I guess you would rather I hadn't helped her." Why had she hoped that, like Mort, he'd be impressed?
Stupid.
Mort was sad and lonely. Luther Cross was a shining advocate who likely had an abundance of close friends and family backing him.
He stood too, and though he was only three inches taller, he seemed much bigger in every way. One shaky hand reached out to cup her face. "I'd rather you didn't put yourself in danger."
Yeah, she'd rather that, too. But more often than not, she had no choice. "Sorry."
His mouth lifted. "Now that sounded sincere." His thumb brushed her cheek. He dropped his hand from her face to lace his fingers with hers. "Come here."
"Where are we going?"
"Someplace more private." He started walking, his pace urgent, towing her along. "Someplace where I can explain a few things to you."
"Like?"
"Oral sex. The difference between what hookers do and what I'd like to do with you."
"Me? And you?" Her heart started that odd staccato thumping again. "Forget about it. I already told you that I can't—"
"I know. One of these days, you'll tell me why. But I would never force you, Gaby."
Obnoxious jerk. "I wouldn't let you."
"I'd never even try."
He towed her into a smelly alley and backed her up against a damp brick wall. Her thin T-shirt did nothing to protect her shoulders from the rough face of the broken bricks.
But Gaby didn't care.
"Hookers do what they do for money, without emotion and without experiencing a single pleasure. Not because they want to, but because they have a habit to feed, or an empty stomach, or an insistent pimp."
As if he'd been running, Luther breathed hard and fast. His fingers caught her wrists and raised her hands to his shoulders. "Because they consent, it's different from actual rape, and from what you say you saw last night. But in my view, not by a whole lot. Any man who uses a woman, who takes advantage of her desperation, isn't much of a man."
"It looked ugly," Gaby agreed, glad to have some real light shed on it all. "Like evil."
"And to you, evil, like cancer, is a live entity?"
She hated to tell him, but… "It is, Luther. Very alive."
He didn't laugh at her, didn't argue or try to dissuade her. "Rape is both ugly and evil." He looked at her mouth. "But when two people are willing, anything goes, and what might look unpleasant otherwise becomes… very nice."
"You'll understand if I have my doubts." But that wasn't entirely true. With Luther, she could imagine most things would be nice. Even being pinned against a dirty brick wall.
"Now, Gaby, I'm going to kiss you, and I want you to open your mouth for me."
"Why?"
"Consider it an exercise in oral sex, why it's pleasurable and why men and women do it."
Her skin went all tingly. And deeper down, inside herself. "Yeah, okay."
"Wait." He touched her lips. "Promise you won't bite me."