“Good news.” He paused, brushing his fingers through her silky sable hair again. “You seem like such a kind person. I’ll bet you don’t have any enemies.”
Rachel lifted her head to look down at him and paused. “Not that I know of. I’m generally on better footing with Owen now. My family says he’s got a new girlfriend and that Carly has been good for him. I can’t think of anyone else I’ve exchanged any cross words with.”
“Know if his girlfriend’s jealous of you?”
“Why should she be?” Rachel shrugged. “I’m out of his life and have no interest in returning.”
Even if it didn’t seem likely, the sexually inept ex still remained his only suspect. Not that Decker wouldn’t love to nail his ass to the wall, but he worried that pinning this murder for hire on Owen might be a bit too easy, like saying the butler did it. If the guy lived in Florida, it would be awfully inconvenient to travel to Lafayette simply to solicit a murder. And obvious, too. Then again, maybe he’d simply called a sympathetic friend and convinced him to hire out this dirty work. Hard to know . . . Better to keep digging.
“I’ll bet you’re an expert at handling agitated parents,” he praised. “And your students must love you.”
“I’ve only been teaching here for a few months, but my interactions have been largely positive. Most of my parents are really involved in their kids’ lives, so that makes the partnering great.”
“You haven’t had any trouble with them?”
“No.”
“Like all your new neighbors?”
“The few I know, yeah. It’s a neighborhood of mostly young professionals, so everyone is busy doing their own thing.”
So unless she had some secret or silent hater, had seen something she shouldn’t have, or was the target of some random freak, Decker didn’t have any better suspects than Owen. Damn it, he had to get to a computer and find a picture of the guy, check his current whereabouts, see if that’s who’d plopped his hateful ass down on the barstool beside his and offered him mid-five figures to kill Rachel.
“What about you?” she asked, cutting into his thoughts.
Decker opened his mouth to give her a bullshit reply, but paused. He was already lying to her about his reason for being at that bar, his reason for going home with her, his reason for staying. For some damn reason, he didn’t want to lie about this, too.
“I don’t have many friends beyond Xander and Javier. A few of their local buddies are cool. I’ve spent a lot of time on tours and missions all over the world. A lot of the guys I considered friends didn’t make it home. I’ve got my share of enemies. I’ve got a ruthless streak. If anyone fucks with me or mine, we’re going to have problems.”
Rachel pulled back a bit. He drew her close again and held in a curse.
Oops, probably too much. Likely, he’d scared the hell out of her. He tried to laugh it off and hoped she bought it.
“God, that made me sound like I live in a cave, eat raw game, and beat my chest.”
She giggled, at ease once more. He let out a relieved breath.
“Maybe a little. I was trying to ask you why you’re in Lafayette. Is this a temporary stop?” she asked.
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “That depends some on the Santiago brothers. I’ve been here a few months, and I’ll be here at least another few days. That’s the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I was a kid.”
Her gaze slid away, and he didn’t have to guess that she was telling herself right now not to get attached to him, not to see any sort of future. Normally, he’d applaud that insight. Now, for some reason it absolutely pissed him off.
“But I like Lafayette well enough. Xander and Javier seem really content to cozy up to their new bride and wait for their baby to come. I don’t see them leaving her side anytime soon, and she likes it here, so I might be here a lot longer.”
“So they really share a wife?” she whispered, sounding a bit scandalized.
Crap, he’d seen shit that would shock her to her pretty pink toes. Probably done a few things that would incite the same reaction.
“Yep. They’re fairly open about it among their friends. Her mother wasn’t keen on the idea at first, but she’s come around. You probably would have thought Xander was an ass before London. Javier was a fucking train wreck. They both need her, and she’s got a heart big enough for two.”
“I’ll bet they scandalize their neighbors.”
Since Xander had been really persistent about seducing London in their backyard over the summer, and she and Javier had almost been caught fucking in the car in their driveway a few weeks ago? “No doubt.”
Rachel smiled and braced her chin on his chest again. “You’re easy to talk to.”
“You are, too,” he answered honestly. “Sorry if I got a little, um . . . demanding earlier. I promise I won’t drag you off by your hair—at least not often.”
“Did you hear me complaining?”
“Hmm . . .” He pretended to cock his head in thought. “Unless ‘please, don’t stop’ is some new code for ‘no,’ then I guess not.”
Even in the dim light, he could see a faint flush crawl up her cheeks. “In fact, it was . . . wow.”
He cupped her chin and brushed a thumb over her slightly swollen lip. “It was pretty ‘wow’ for me, too, beautiful.”
And he meant that. It wasn’t because of her spectacular technique or her deviant sexual kink. It definitely wasn’t because she dressed as scantily as a Hollywood Boulevard hooker. It wasn’t at all because she knew how to seduce a man in sixty seconds or less. It was precisely because none of those things were true about Rachel.
She had permanence stamped all over her, and he wasn’t a staying sort of man. He was going to have to be careful not to hurt her if—no, when—he left. Why lie to himself? This cozy feeling would pass, right? Probably, but . . . he didn’t want to know why the idea of parting ways with her made him somewhere between grumpy and enraged.
“Tired?” she asked with a smile.
“No.”
“Hungry or thirsty?”
“No.” He grinned. “Ask me if I’m horny.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I hate that word.”
“Ask me if I want to fuck you again.”
Rachel hesitated, then with an impish smile, she lifted the blanket covering them both and tried to peer down at his cock, but it had to be too dark for her to see. To make sure she didn’t miss even an inch of his cock throbbing for her, Decker threw back the soft sheets and handmade quilt and took himself in hand.
She gasped. “I don’t think I need to ask.”
Her voice suddenly sounded throaty, and it turned him on even more.
“I want you again, Rachel.” He lifted her hand from his chest and eased it down to his hard cock.
He died a small, shuddering death when she wrapped her fingers around him and stroked softly, down and up his sensitive length, then brushed over the tingling head. When she bent to kiss his shoulder, his chest, another tremor wracked his body.
It didn’t make sense. He’d spent three days in bed with a Victoria’s Secret model last time he’d been in Manhattan. Besides being gorgeous, Mandy was experienced, voracious, and unapologetic. She never expected anything more than an orgasm. Normally, she was his kind of girl.
The fine trembling in Rachel’s fingers told Decker that touching him meant something to her and that it was important to her to give him pleasure. And that was revving up his libido more effectively than skimpy lingerie.
Was he getting older and going traditional? Or had he crossed from sentimental right into sappy? It hadn’t escaped Decker that Rachel trusted him with her body when she hadn’t trusted any other man but her husband. He was as moved by her nervousness, her care, and her goodness as he was by her lush tits—and that was saying something. She had a great rack.