We sit next to each other, finishing our dinners. West lets me keep watching the s.e.x and the City marathon, I think because he knows I'm worried about Stick. But he does keep interjecting his own thoughts on all the women's behavior, which is equal parts interesting and annoying. In a good way. I can tell he's trying to keep my mood light. Eventually the channel switches over to infomercials, and I stand up and stretch.

"Well, I'm off to bed," I announce, picking up my plate and gla.s.s.

"You gonna be OK?" West asks.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," I reply, "Stick's a big boy, right?"

I head into the kitchen and run my plate under the faucet before putting it into the dishwasher. I think I can see West watching me out of the corner of my eye, but I don't want to look. I head into my bedroom and shut the door, pulling on my oversized cotton t-shirt that I like to wear to bed. I slide in between my worn cotton sheets, their familiar touch soothing my anxiety about my brother, though West helped a lot, too.

He was really great company tonight. And he hasn't brought a girl home since Jenna. And he looks so good in that black tank he's wearing tonight. His tan shoulder muscles pop out the sides. G.o.d, what cologne does that man wear? I can't find any in the bathroom. Is it possible for a man to smell that good naturally? I just want...I want...

My hand makes its way down south. I close my eyes as I begin to touch myself, picturing my arms wrapped around West's body, imagining what's hiding underneath those clothes, feeling him tearing into me. I'm so close. A moan escapes my lips. I can even smell his scent, as though he's here in the room with me.

"Oh, West..." I murmur.

"You should try the real thing," I hear from the doorway.

My eyes fly open in horror and I see West standing in the doorway, his lips parted as he stares at me l.u.s.tily. At least the sheets are covering me. I open my mouth to yell, to tell him to get out, but he stops me.

"Don't," he says quietly. "We both know this is going to happen. And it's pretty clear you want it, too."

A shiver runs through me, and I stare at him. He's right. No use denying I want him after what he just saw. And heard. I sink back into my pillow, my eyes wide as he makes his way to the center of the room.

Slowly, purposefully, he pulls his black tank off over his head. I study his body, fascinated, finally seeing him after all these years. His chest is wide, and dark hair runs across it, continuing in a light trail between his abs, disappearing beneath his belt, which he is just now unbuckling. He stands back up in just his boxers, then makes eye contact with me, a little smile playing across his lips. He tucks his fingers into the band of his underwear, pulling them down.

As he stands and kicks them to the side, I get a full view of what I'm in for. He's staggeringly huge, and already hard as a rock. Holy s.h.i.t, this is really happening. I inch over to the center of my bed, my breathing already ramping up. He walks slowly toward me, and I feel lightheaded at the sight of his naked body, intimidated by his size. I've never been with anyone half this big.

He takes the corner of the sheets in his hand and pulls them down, uncovering me. I feel completely vulnerable, in this boxy t-shirt and my childhood bed. I hold my breath as he slides in beside me, grabbing my hips and pulling me toward him. He leans onto one elbow, then eases his way on top of me, one arm on either side of my body. He sinks down onto my chest, and I gasp at the contact. The only thing between our skin is my thin cotton shirt.

Lowering his mouth to mine, he delicately brushes his lips against mine. I tilt my head up, wanting more, but he pulls back, teasing me. He looks at me with a satisfied smile on his face, then leans in and really kisses me. My mouth opens eagerly to accept his probing tongue, and my hips rise to meet his.

I groan as I feel his hard c.o.c.k pressing against my crotch. A flutter rises in my stomach as I worry about how he's going to fit. His fingers trace up my thigh, pulling my shirt with it. I start shaking with nerves and desire as my shirt bunches around my waist. I feel his hand continue up under it, slowly sliding over my right breast. He moves to my ear, nipping and sucking my earlobe as his fingers pinch my nipple. It hardens under his touch and I gasp, arching my back. I wrap my legs around his a.s.s and pull his hips against me, feeling his c.o.c.k press against my wet slit.

I pull my shirt up over my head and toss it to the floor. West kisses my neck, moving down between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, trailing kisses along my skin. He takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks hard, tracing circles with his tongue. My legs fall wide open as I lose myself in pleasure.

He moves down my stomach now, licks the soft dip beside my hipbone. I feel his warm breath on my s.e.x until suddenly his tongue is on me, flicking against my aching c.l.i.t. I cry out, my hips bucking. He pins me to the bed. I grasp the sheets in my hands as he works my c.l.i.t with his skilled tongue. Two thick fingers slowly push inside me. He circles them, pressing against my g-spot as his tongue teases my c.l.i.t. I cry out, waves of pleasure overwhelming me. I'm so close...

Suddenly, he stops, his fingers pulling out of me. My eyes flutter open as he presses his mouth down onto mine again. I taste myself on his lips.

"Tell me you want me," he growls, kissing my neck.

"I want you," I whisper.

"Beg," he demands.

"Please, West. Please. I want you so bad," I comply. "But I just...You're so..." I glance down meaningfully at his huge member. A smirk appears on his lips.

"Don't worry," he whispers, "We'll start out slow. I'll be gentle, I promise."

He leans off the bed and reaches into the pocket of his jeans. When he sits back up, there's a condom in his teeth. He rips it open, and I swallow hard as I watch him slide the latex along his length. He locks eyes with me as I watch him, and reaches down to my c.l.i.t, circling it gently.

"You're so f.u.c.king wet..." he murmurs.

I gasp as the very tip of his c.o.c.k parts my silky flesh. He kisses me gently, his tongue delicately pressing against mine. He presses in farther, still kissing me until he's all the way inside. He circles his hips slowly, his head dipping to the pillow next to mine.

"f.u.c.k, you're tight..." he whispers. His words send a thrill to running through me. He thrusts deeper into me, his jaw working as he tries to restrain himself. But I don't want to go slow anymore.

I throw my weight forward, flipping on top of him in one smooth movement. I straddle him, my knees on either side of his hips. His eyes are wide in shock. I slide down onto him, taking him as deep as I can. He groans in pleasure and I fling my hair back, proud of the way I can elicit a response from him. His fingers find my c.l.i.t again, and I buck my hips into him, unable to hold back.

With a low growl that vibrates through me, West comes inside me. I let myself explode against him, crying out with abandon. I collapse against him, exhausted. I just barely have the energy to move my hair out of my face as I rest my head on his firm chest. We lie there for a while, breathing together, until I feel like I've come back down to earth. My legs feel like jelly as I curl up beside him. My eyes are half-closed as I watch him toss the condom into the trash.

"Come here," he whispers, and I feel his arm snaking around me. He pulls me to him and I lay my head on his shoulder. "You okay? I mean, with my size-."

"I think so," I murmur.

"You'll get used to it," he rea.s.sures me.

"I think once was enough. Thanks anyway," I sigh, turning away.

There's silence for a few moments, and I can feel him staring at my back. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"You were kidding..." he accuses me. I start giggling. "Oh, that's so funny! You know what else is funny?" His hands reach around my waist and pull me toward him. He starts tickling me all over.

"No! No, you jerk!" I cry, tears streaming down my face from laughing too hard. "Stop it!"

He relents, pulling me back toward him. I kiss him softly on the mouth, then tuck my head under his chin. Now I'm really exhausted. I feel the rise and fall of our breath sync up just before I fall asleep.

Chapter Nine.

Richard I ring the doorbell of the colonial house. Without the police databases at my fingertips, it's taken me a while to track down Olive's mother. Plus, it turns out she just moved into this small, blue house with some boyfriend. Finally, I hear footsteps approaching. The wreath on the front door wobbles a little as the door opens a crack.

"Yes?" the woman asks. I recognize Olive's eyes immediately in her face, though her hair has a reddish tint to it.

"Are you Christine Corder?" I ask authoritatively.

"Yes..." she answers more warily, looking me over.

I take my wallet out of my back pocket and flash my badge quickly. Not my real badge, of course. That was taken from me. This is just a cheap knockoff I bought downtown. A nice sports jacket and my personal revolver strapped to my hip completes my look. I can't believe it's come to this-I've had to put a costume together to be a cop.

"I'm Detective Stan Carbee. May I come in for a moment, ma'am?" I ask politely. I haven't talked to Stan since we fought on the steps of the courthouse, though he's left me plenty of messages. I never met Olive's mom, but she might have told her my name, so I figure it can't hurt to use my former partner's.

"Oh, yes, come right in," she says, opening the door all the way and gesturing me inside. I glance around as I follow her into a sitting room off the foyer. Christine's done well for herself, it seems.

"Is everything all right?" she asks worriedly, sitting on the edge of an armchair. I take a seat across from her on a sofa, unb.u.t.toning my jacket.

"Everything's fine, Mrs. Corder," I reply.

"Ms.," she corrects me.

"My apologies, Ms. Corder," I say, "As you probably know, your daughter filed a complaint with the police department concerning an officer who was bothering her by the name of Richard Lees."

"Yes, he was stalking her," she says, nodding. I bristle slightly at her word choice, but obviously can't correct her.

"Right," I say shortly, "Well, we're just conducting some interviews, trying to get a clear picture of what happened for a department review."

"Oh, OK. I'll help anyway I can," she replies, smoothing her khakis. Olive never described her mother as a housewife type, but she seems to fit the bill. Or maybe it's just an act for the new boyfriend.

I take a notebook and pen out of my jacket pocket. I have to be careful with this next part, because I don't want her to know that all I want is Olive's current location. I'm sure the actual police already have that information.

"So, how would you describe your daughter's feelings toward Lees?" I ask. The woman frowns. s.h.i.t. Feelings wasn't the right word.

"Feelings?" she asks quizzically, "Well, she was frightened of him, of course. And angry."

"Of course," I murmur sympathetically. "What happened was just terrible."

"It really was. I mean, she had to move clear across the country to get away from that f.u.c.ker!" she says, her voice rising in anger, losing her composure. This is more like the Christine that Olive described.

"Right, across the country, that is unfortunate." Where does she mean, California? I don't want to push it. "Did you ever meet Richard Lees?"

"No, I didn't. I wish I had, too. I have a strong intuition about men and I would have set her straight about him before things got out of control."

I have to swallow hard to keep from laughing.

"And do you know if Lees has tried to make any contact with Olive since she filed the complaint?" I go on.

"Can't you ask her that?" Christine replies, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh, we have," I a.s.sure her, "But sometimes, the victims in these things, they're scared, they don't want to stir up any more trouble...We just want to verify that he's really leaving her alone. It's important to the department."

"Well, I appreciate that," she sighs, "Because really the most shocking thing to know was that he's a cop, you know? And I know not everyone trusts the police, but I always did, and I still do. There's a bad apple in every bunch."

"That's very true." Just keep her talking. "Well, I'm glad she's safe now."

"Oh, yes. Her brother won't let anything happen to her," she nods.

I frown. Her brother? She never mentioned a brother.

"Yes, her brother. It's good she has him around. They're very close, yes?" I ask innocently.

"Oh, yes," she says, "Even when we moved away from West Clayton when she was young, they stayed close."

Bingo. Might as well get as much information as I can. "And what does he do, Olive's brother?"

"Oh, he's a sort of accountant," she says, waving her hand vaguely. Huh. I wonder why Olive never mentioned this brother of hers. An accountant sounds innocuous enough.

"Right," I say, "Well, it's good that he'll be living close by."

"More than close by," she says.

"Sorry?" I ask.

"Well, living in the same house is a little more than 'close by', don't you think?" she goes on.

"Yes," I reply, "You're right, of course. Well, we'll send someone out from the Vegas sheriff's department to follow up with both Olive and her brother, then."

"Wonderful," Christine smiles.

"Oh, let me just verify the address, just in case." I make a show out of flipping through my notepad, and then checking through all of my pockets. "Oh, jeez, I seem to have left the address in my other notebook." I frown and rub my face. "Sorry, the missus just had a baby and our sleep schedules have just been all over the place. I can't seem to keep track of anything lately, not that my Captain understands..."

Christine clucks sympathetically. "Oh, that's such a shame. Olive was colicky as a baby, so I completely understand. Why don't I just write down the address for you?"

"Oh, would you? That would be a real help," I say, handing her the pen and notebook.

"Sure, no problem," she says. And just like that, she writes down her daughter's address.

"Well, thanks very much for your time, Ms. Corder," I say, as she hands back the notebook.

"That's it?" she asks.

"Yep, just routine questions, really," I reply, tucking the notebook and pen back in my pocket as I stand. I glance toward the mantelpiece as I turn to leave, where a row of family portraits sit. "Oh, is that Olive?" I ask, walking toward a portrait of her.

"Oh, yes, that's her," Christine says warmly, "Her high school graduation."

"Mmm. Pretty girl," I observe, "You look just alike."

"Oh, well, that's sweet." Christine smiles up at me, and I find myself staring at her lips, so similar to Olive's. "Well, I can show you to the door."

"Great, thanks," I say.

She walks me to the front door and opens it for me. "Please let me know what happens to that Lees guy," she says, "I hope he gets what he deserves."

I turn to smile at her from the front steps. "Oh, I will," I tell her. "Don't worry about that."

Chapter Ten.