Stirring Attraction(46)

“I know what you’re thinking,” she murmured as he covered himself and turned to her. “You want to use them all tonight.”

He leaned his head back and laughed. “Lily, I’m just a man. Six condoms in one night?”

“Hmmm, I see your point,” she murmured as he settled between her legs.

He wanted to take this slow, ease into it and draw out every stroke. He wanted to make her come again and again even if he couldn’t manage a six-­condom night. Hell, seven if they counted the one from earlier.

Gently, he pressed into her, allowing her time to adjust. He tried to hold back the last few inches, but her hips rocked up to greet him. Her legs wrapped around him, her heels digging into his ass. And she began to move.

Fuck slow.

He drove into her over and over, rushing toward the finish line. Next time, they would try for gentle and calm. Right now, he wanted her too much.

“Dominic,” she said as her arms drew him down until his chest pressed against hers. And her lips brushed his ear. “We can make balloon animals with the rest of them. There won’t be any left after tonight.”

He heard the implied for anyone else in her words and came with a rush as she followed him, tumbling into pleasure.

After . . . still trying to breathe . . . he rolled off her and stared up at the ceiling. What if he tried to be a part of Lily’s life—­the man who delivered her dreams of marriage and family—­and failed?

He reached for the box, determined to use another in ten minutes. Maybe eight if she kept rubbing up against his side.

“Again,” she whispered.

“Again, Lily.”

Just in case they had the right man in custody. Just in case her life went back to normal and she didn’t need him anymore. Just in case he was left with a choice. Stay with the woman who owned his heart, knowing she no longer needed what he had to give her—­protection—­or go. And he decided to leave again.

He wanted to make damn sure that box wasn’t waiting for Ted or anyone else.





Chapter Fourteen


LILY SURVEYED HER bed. The pinks sheets had been tucked in and the comforter folded on the edge while she’d been in the shower. She’d heard him out here, moving around. And she’d closed her eyes while shampooing her hair, knowing he was right there.

“Everything all right?” Dominic walked in and handed her a cup of coffee. Her childhood bedroom felt smaller with him standing beside the queen-­sized bed that barely fit. Though it hadn’t seemed that way last night.

She accepted the coffee. “We didn’t break the bed.”

“Pick up another box of condoms and we’ll try again after our trip to Salem.”

The attack. The man sitting in a jail cell. The report from the second attack . . . She’d let it all slip to the back of her mind for one blissful night. “Do you have that file? The one from the Salem police department? I’d like to look at it before we go.”

“I brought it in from the car.” He turned and led the way down the hall. When they reached the kitchen, he set down his mug and picked up a thin manila folder off the counter, then handed it to her.

Her fingers trembled and she glanced up at him. “Have you read it?”

He nodded. “There are some differences,” he said slowly. “And without your positive ID they don’t have anything to tie him to your attack. He claims he’s never been to Forever.”

Unease washed over her. He’d sounded so sure yesterday, in the bar. “But he used a knife?”

“Yes. And the woman was out jogging. But this time he took her phone.”

Lily closed her eyes and the memory rushed in. Lying on the pavement . . . crawling . . . hoping . . . screaming . . . and then finding her phone.

She opened her eyes. “Mine fell, I think.” Goodness, she couldn’t even say for sure. And now it mattered. “Maybe he didn’t see it.”

“Maybe,” he agreed and he cocked his head. “Do you want to sit down? Then look?”

“No.” She flipped open the folder and scanned the page. “ ‘Give me your phone’—­those were his only words?”

The pieces didn’t line up. Her body felt as if it had been turned to stone. Dominic had been so sure, but this crime was different. The suspect used a knife, but only after the victim refused to meet his demands. The man who attacked her in the park had cut first.

She looked down at the mug shot. She didn’t need to read anymore. It didn’t matter if she’d dropped her cell phone or how many times she’d been cut versus the woman in Salem. The man sitting in a jail cell was irrelevant.

She looked up at Dominic. “It’s not him. I saw his eyes. This isn’t him. This man has bright blue eyes. The man who attacked me had brown ones. A deep, dark brown.”