CHAPTER TWENTY
Newman walked down the road, intent on running home. He’d been at the Tucker house for hours. Hope had left an hour ago, and he’d wanted to follow, but had stayed in case he was needed. He’d stayed at Connor’s side while the man handled stuff. The funeral arrangements would be made when the rest of the Tucker family arrived.
It was approaching early evening, and he was sure he had a whole shitload of work to catch up on but didn’t have the enthusiasm to tackle it.
Reaching the end of Hope’s driveway, he found himself turning down it for no other reason than he wanted to see her, even though he knew his reception would not be a good one. The woman had him tied in knots, and for the life of him he couldn’t fathom why.
“Paul.”
His head snapped up and shoulders went back as he noted Militant heading toward her car, which was under a cover and stowed in the carport.
“Can I help you there, Ms. Lawrence?”
“You can. I’m going see HRH to work out how best the book club can help the Tucker family in their time of need.”
“Ah... HRH?” Newman took the cover off, wondering if he’d heard the words correctly.
“We’re not fools, Paul. We know what the children in this town, and some of the adults, call us. We just choose to ignore it, as we quite like our nicknames.”
He looked over the hood of her car to see if he was actually speaking to the right person. Yup, there she stood. Militant Lawrence. Mouth drawn into a line, red spikes in her hair quivering. Dressed in black.
“Okay.”
“I’ll be back later, as we are also researching a location for our next book club field trip.”
“I thought you didn’t like field trips?” Newman said before he could stop himself. Don’t engage!
“You’ve a smart mouth on you, young man. And perhaps I once did not like them, but I do now.”
He nodded.
“I, however, will be selecting the driver of our transportation this time.”
Annabelle had driven them last time, and Militant had sat on her shoulder watching the speed limit for the entire journey.
“I’m sure I’m busy that day.”
She snorted. “I did not ask you.”
“No, of course you didn’t,” he said quickly.
“Now, you will go into the house and see Hope. Don’t make her unhappy, she is already that. I expect it to be in the exact condition it is in when I return.”
Newman was at a loss to understand what she was talking about.
“Pardon?”
“No mess will be left behind.”
His eyes nearly crossed at the thought of making a mess with Hope, but he didn’t think her mother would appreciate him mentioning that fact.
“Out of all of them, I’ve always liked you best.”
On these ominous words. Militant got into her car, fired it to life, and backed out, missing Newman’s toes by centimeters. She then crawled up the driveway slower than a snail.
“Dear Christ, what the hell was that about?” he wondered, lowering the cover he still held to the floor. He headed to the front door and knocked. When no one answered, he turned the handle and walked inside.
“What are you doing?” he muttered, walking down the hall. He peered in the lounge and kitchen, but saw no sign of Hope. The garden was empty of her also, which left her bedroom. Checking the first two, he came up empty, but found her in the third one.
He snapped a picture of Hope with his cell phone, because he was fairly certain he’d never recreate the moment anytime soon. She lay on her bed, dressed in a pink kimono. Hair wet, long legs bare, and she slept with earbuds in her ears. She looked soft, approachable, and he wanted her with a hunger that drove him to move closer.
“Hope.” The name was raw, and wrenched from him.
Her eyes opened, but she didn’t look afraid. She pulled the buds from her ears, and looked up at him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Hell if I know.”
His heart was thudding, and he could do nothing to stop himself placing a knee on the bed beside her. He then braced his hands on either side of her head and leaned in.
“No.” The word was whispered, and it sounded more like a plea than a deterrent.
She reached for him as he took her lips beneath his. It was deep and hungry, and he wanted more. Where one kiss finished, another started, and on it went until he wasn’t sure if it would ever end.
“God, Hope.”
“I know, and it’s wrong.”
“I don’t know how it could be,” he whispered, opening the sash at her waist. Parting the robe, he looked at what he’d unwrapped. Pale curves, long limbs, and full breasts. He wanted to map every inch of her with his mouth.
“You’re beautiful.”
That made her snort.
“You seriously are.” He kissed her neck as he ran his hands up her sides. Her skin was warm and smooth. She smelled delicious.
“Who’d have thought it. Hope Lawrence smells really good.”
She giggled, but that fell away as his mouth reached her breast. He licked the slope and she shuddered. He then took her nipple into his mouth.
“Oh God!”
She arched into him, and Newman’s body was soon painfully aroused. He’d never felt the need to possess a woman like he did Hope. He wanted her willing, he wanted her wet and aching for him. He wanted her to need him.
“Let me pleasure you, Hope.”
The eyes she’d had shut, sprang open. She then wrestled him off his feet and onto the bed beside her.
“I don’t need you looking after me, Newman.”
“I-I wasn’t.”
“You were, but that’s stopping right now.”
She forced his T-shirt up his body and over his head. She then opened his shorts and shimmied them down his legs, stripping off his sneakers at the same time.
“Hope, I don’t need you to—” He forgot the last word as she straddled him.
“Shut up, Newman, and take your punishment.”
Her mouth was on his chest, licking his skin, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe. Newman liked to take charge in these situations. He liked to administer the pleasure, then take his second. Hope had wrested that from him.
“Hope, really…” She had her hands on him now. They were tracing the waistband of his boxer shorts.
“What’s the problem here, Newman? You got control issues?” She looked up at him from beneath long, spiky black lashes, and her eyes were filled with wicked heat.
“Yes… no.” He couldn’t think straight, as her hand was now cupping his erection and running up and down the length, driving him crazy.
“Yes,” she whispered, circling his nipple with her tongue. She then bit him, sending a bolt of lust straight down his body.
“Christ!” He dug his fingers into her hair and held on as she slowly tortured him, moving ever closer to where her hand was caressing him. Newman wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t disgrace himself when she eased his underwear down his legs and took him in her hands. Her mouth slid down the hard length, and he moaned long and loud. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he gripped the bedcovers. It was heaven and hell combined. The silken glide of her mouth, and swirl of her tongue transported him to places he’d never been before.
He withstood as much as he could, then hauled her up his body.
“My turn.” He attempted to wrestle her beneath him, but she slid down his body until he felt her, damp and ready. Newman couldn’t stop his hips moving, and slid inside her. The feeling was so good he moaned again, but this time it was accompanied by Hope’s.
“So good,” she said, sitting upright.
She looks good naked , was the only thought he could muster before she started moving. He cupped her breasts as she rode him. He let her, and then grabbed her waist and threw her down on the bed beside him. He then held her there with one hand while he did his own torturing.
His body screamed for release, but there was no way in hell that was happening until he’d made her beg.
He kissed her breasts, taking his time circling each nipple until she screamed at him to end her torment. Of course he didn’t, but he enjoyed hearing her beg.
Her stomach was softly rounded, unlike most of the women he’d slept with, who were taut and muscled from gym work. It felt good, and tasted better. Moving lower, he parted her legs, then licked the damp folds between them and gave her the most intimate kiss of all. She clamped her legs around his head and held on. Usually a quiet person, Hope rarely spoke unless she had to. The opposite was true in the bedroom.
“More!”
She cried and screamed. She moaned and sighed. Newman loved every sound she uttered, especially when he grazed his teeth over the hard bud between her thighs and she pulled his hair as she came… loudly.
He drove her higher using his fingers and mouth, until she was sobbing his name. Only then did he open her legs and slide deep inside her again.
“God, you feel good.”
Hope had her eyes closed, hands clenched as he thrust into her again and again, the spike of heat inside him beginning to climb. When he was near, he lifted her hips and thrust deeper, and she answered him with a little squeal, and then they were both gone. Scaling the summit, and spiraling into ecstasy.
He fell forward, his head resting on her body, legs sliding off the bed, feet hitting the floor. He was weightless, exhausted, and felt so good, he wasn’t sure there was actually a name for it.
Her hand was in his hair, fingers stroking his scalp, and he thought about purring but didn’t have the energy. Easing himself upright, he looked down at her. She was the picture of a thoroughly sated woman. Newman managed to roll into the place beside her on the narrow bed. He felt boneless, all his energy sapped.
“Are you okay, Hope? I didn’t hurt you?”
She rolled onto her side as he spoke, her eyes on him.
“No, I can honestly say I feel pretty good, thanks, Newman. But I’m still angry with you.”
“Sure, I felt that anger, right before you came.”