Chapter 51

Huxley asked if he could drive on the way back to his condo. “I like playing the male role once in a while,” he said with a teasing smile.

“You paid for dinner,” she said, acting as though he had taken away one of her privileges.

They had grown up in an era of the double standard but adjusted well to societal changes, could even joke about their roles. Joke, like they had done all through dinner, talked about so many subjects, with a lot of humor that turned to magnetic teasing. Personal comments and gentle touching intended to stimulate thrilled her. She burned with desire she didn’t think she was capable of feeling again. She felt young, frivolous, and daring.

It was great to see the tension drain out of Huxley’s face as the evening wore on. When they arrived at his condo and parked beside his sedan, he grabbed her car keys from the ignition and jumped out, coming round to her side to open her door. Chivalry went right along with the fun of the evening.

“You are so gallant, sir,” she said affectedly, taking his hand and sliding out.

He steered her toward the front door. “How about a night cap?” he asked.

Sara found herself inside and toasting with a mug of decaf before she had time to contemplate what she was doing. He retrieved the car keys from his pocket and dropped them into her opened purse. He leaned slightly across the counter and intensely studied her. “You’re the one,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “You’re the one.”

She loved being with Huxley and didn’t want the evening to end, but that was inevitable. “I really must go,” she said, coming to her senses.

“I was hoping not to hear that,” he said as he came around the end of the counter and reached for her.

Suddenly, she was in Huxley’s arms and past resolves melted in the heat of true passion. “I should go,” she said, hearing desire on her own breath. Huxley kissed her, gently at first and when she could no longer restrain herself, he must have sensed it and his kiss became insistent, till she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his affection. Heartbeat for heartbeat. She could no longer stop herself. She tried to move away. “Huxley, we—” His mouth came hard against hers. His hands were all over her back, her hips, pulling hers toward him until she felt his desire. She wanted more. She wanted him to touch her bare skin. She wanted to touch the hair that swirled over his chest, and feel it against her naked breasts.

Huxley was unbuttoning her blouse and walking her into the bedroom. She became both scared and wanton, beyond stopping. He unfastened the button above the zipper of her slacks and she stepped out of them as he removed his shirt, exposing a magnificent muscular chest with hair that went all the way down to….

Huxley ripped back the bed covers and, in one swoop, picked her up, positioned his knee on the bed, and laid her down. His physical strength surprised her. He turned his back to her and removed his trousers. He was shy about himself. Huxley was shy! He came to bed in his under shorts and pulled up the covers and kissed her longingly. He ran his hands over her yearning body as if wanting every inch of her at once.

His fingertips explored. Her bra fell aside and she squirmed out of her panties as she lay facing him. His fingertips touched her everywhere, without hesitation, followed by his lips. Huxley seemed love-starved.

It was a long time since Sara had been with a man and she felt awkward. She was just as starved. She could now live out the fantasies she conjured about this man. She kissed his chest, dragged her tongue slowly across his nipples, and ran her fingertips any place that made his breath quicken. Together, they went beyond their fantasies. Each time he heard her breath falter he intensified the pleasure. At times he watched her expression. Surely, she had grimaced in sheer ecstasy and had a fleeting moment of embarrassment at being watched. But Huxley wouldn’t allow that for long.

He kicked away the covers and positioned himself farther down the mattress. Sara thought she would surely pass out from the intensity of his probing tongue. When words escaped her throat as nothing more than guttural sounds, he began to bite.

“Hux, no!” she said, though the words seemed barely discernable.

He continued to bite, just hard enough so that she felt stimulated beyond belief. She had wanted him and was getting her wish. “Love me,” she said, begging, because she could take no more foreplay. She needed penetration, hard and fast. She needed to be taken, but he continued the rapture with his tongue.

Finally, he climbed on top. “Hard,” she said. “Hux.” But her voice came out on faltering breaths. She dug her fingertips into his hips and pulled him toward her.

Huxley took her. The way she needed. The way he needed. A feeble scream escaped her throat. Hearing him moan his pleasure enhanced her enjoyment. He held back nothing and didn’t stop his forceful thrusts until she was satisfied. Even then, he continued until his massive orgasm overtook him and he moaned loudly with each spasm. Then he collapsed onto the sheets beside her.

She lay quiet while her breath and heart rate calmed, too awed to move or speak. He drifted off fast, but strangely, as he slept, kept hold of her wrist and wouldn’t let go.

*

Sara bolted awake as if someone had shot a gun off in the room. Fear erupted from a deep crevasse in her mind.

What if the serial killer was not from the Sacramento area, not from California at all?

She tried to keep her anxiety and fright under control. Why was she having these thoughts this night?

What if he was someone who came into the state regularly and then left?

She had to get a grip on her thoughts, but they kept coming.

Maybe that was why the serial killer had never been caught. He was from out of state. A perfect cover.What the hell am I doing in bed with a guy I know so little about?

She began to tremble.

How convenient to have legitimate business here, then turn off his cell phone, do his killing, and skip out.

Sometime during the night, he loosened the grip on her wrist. How strong he seemed. Overpowering. Why had he tried to detain her?

Huxley’s knowledge of war tactics would help hide his crimes.

She tried to reason it out. Why would someone like Huxley turn into a killer? Because he lost his brother and his mind snapped? That was the only reason she could come up with because she knew not much else about him. She trembled fiercely. She had to get out of bed before he woke.

Don’t even shower!

Sara grabbed up her clothes and stood in the darkened bathroom and dressed. When she came out into the bedroom, Huxley wore his slacks and blocked the bedroom doorway. “What are you doing?” he asked, still sleepy. He dragged a hand over his face.

Sara was scared. Her libido and loneliness had swept away all caution. “I shouldn’t be here,” she said. “Too soon. This shouldn’t have…too soon.”

“Is that a reason to leave?”

“Please,” she said, motioning for him to step aside. “Let me go.”

He still blocked the doorway. “I’m not letting you get away now.”

His words filled her with dread. Her heart continued to pound and her pulse throbbed up the side of her neck. She looked for a weapon and saw only the oversized lamp on the dresser across the room. She did not want to anger him and managed a tighter grip on her purse, which was all she had if she needed to bash him. He took a step toward her and she stepped back. “Look, I’m leaving, okay?”

Huxley stared at her for a moment with a look of confusion, then disappointment and anger. He spun around and went directly to the front door. She followed. He held it open and made no move to detain her. “Strange,” he said. “I hadn’t pegged you as a one-nighter.”

His words cut deep. Still, Sara eased by him and out the door and never looked back.