Quick Study (11 page)

She gaped at him, then rolled her eyes. “Aren't you funny.”

“Not particularly.” He got up. “What can I get you?”

She waved him away and went over to the counter alone, glancing at him like she didn’t know what to think anymore. He smiled back and drank in the sight of her, feeling his heart ache. The weeks—months—without her had been numbing and pale. Having her so close was like flipping a switch inside him.

Losing her again was unthinkable.

“I'd love to take you to dinner, if you'd let me,” he said when she returned with her own drink. “Later?”

She licked her straw, then wrapped her lips around it. Paul tensed, watching her suck in the cold, sweet liquid.

“If you mention marriage again, I'm leaving,” she said. Her warm brown eyes met his in a frank, open gaze. When she licked the straw again, slowly, her eyes still on his, he realized what she meant:
Keep it sexual.

After the long separation, Paul was in no position to argue. She had him hard at hello. “I want you in my bed,” he said, ignoring the people around them, the counter help, the guy bumping his chair behind him. He dropped his voice to a low, urgent growl. “Maybe I just want to marry you because you're the best fuck I've ever had in my life.”

Her pink mouth stilled around the straw and her eyes widened. Then she smiled—a confident, sultry, womanly smile—and Paul nearly unzipped his pants right there at the table.

She stood up. “Walk me to my car.”

He was on his feet escorting  her down the suburban street to her distinctive VW before she could pretend either one of them was in control of what was happening to them. Her sweet, flowery smell filled his nose and he bent lower to breathe it in, conscious of her quick steps next to his, then dragged his lips across her temple and inhaled more deeply. “God, I've missed you.”

She pulled out her keys. “I'll meet you at your place. This time I'm bringing my own ride home.”

“See you there.” He stole a kiss and she couldn't help smiling at him. Though she tried. 

“Go on,” she said. “I think I can find it.”

Paul jogged—no, sprinted—down the street to his car, glad she was speaking to him, grateful she was going to fuck him, shoving aside the pathetic voice in his heart that said it wasn't enough. That he wouldn't be able to stop himself from pressuring her—especially during the raw, unguarded moments after they'd had the best mind-blowing sex of his life.

Don't be a dork,
he told himself.
Sex is better than nothing. With her, better than anything.

She'd realize what they had eventually. He could wait.

Watching
Paul jog around the corner, Bonnie bit her lip, smiling and imagining the handsome male backside bare and sweaty under her hands. Under her tongue, which would explore each muscle from his shoulders down to the dimples of his ass.  She would have him spread-eagle in a king-size bed, tangled up in crisp, white sheets, every inch there for her taking. Before he grew impatient and took
her
.

Suddenly, a thick arm hooked around her neck and jerked her backwards.

“Pa—” she gasped, and the arm tightened. White sparks shot across her vision, then red, then black. Her throat was too small and getting smaller with each shallow breath.

“Hello again,” her attacker said, and then she knew. He was supposed to be in jail.

He slammed her against her car, arm tightening around her neck until she was loudly gasping for breath and could feel his pelvis press into her ass. He was hard.

Don't panic. Fight him off.

But he started talking while he thrust his hips against her, each move bringing the roar of rushing blood into her ears. Her concentration splintered.

 “Remember question five?” His tone was conversational, almost pleasant. “Did you read question five?”

At first she didn't know what the hell he was talking about. Too busy concentrating on sucking in enough oxygen to help her brain remember the steps for breaking a back-approach strangle.

“I bet you're glad to experience question five with me,” he said. “Grateful. You are grateful, aren't you?”

At least he didn't seem to expect her to speak, the sick fuck. He was getting off on grinding his pathetic erection into her ass, a repulsive assault that she had to pretend wasn't happening so she could overrule the building terror in her mind. Not entirely in control of her emotions, she began to thrash against his hold and fight to get her fingers around the arm at her throat.

Duck your chin. Get air.

Both his arms were occupied holding her in the chokehold, and she was able to dig her fingernails into the sinews of his forearm and force her head lower into the crook of his elbow.

At last, a deep breath. Her vision began to clear and her mind sharpened. 

“Help!” she screamed. She remembered an old feminist adage. “Fire! Help! FIRE!”

Still ducking her chin to her chest, she twisted to the side and drove her elbow into his ribs. That gave her enough freedom to lift her arm for a second blow, this one aimed low and furious at his groin. But he caught her arm and yanked it up behind her back, twisting her shoulder painfully. He forced her to bend over.

“Careful, bitch,” he said, his previous, creepy calm shaken. “Save your energy for when we get home.”

Her shoulder was screaming in pain. Only moments had gone by since Paul had left—and other people were bound to come by any second. He was insane to attack her in the middle of a city street—

“In the car,” he said with another violent tug, “or I break your arm.”

Whatever you do, never let the bad guys get you in a car.
In spite of the pain, she let her knees buckle and her own body weight pulled them both towards the ground. She stared at a filthy Snicker's Bar wrapper below her in the patchy grass and focused on aiming her next kick.

“Why are you fighting me?” he gasped. “I'm not going to hurt you. You're the one who hurt me, remember? You assaulted me and I got blamed for it. I answered your ad and now I have a police record. How do you think that makes me feel?”

Still shouting for help, Bonnie landed a glancing kick in his kneecap, but the man knocked her to the ground, captured her hands, and pressed his knee into her throat. He was just too damn heavy to fight off. But she tried.

“Stop struggling, girlie. Say you'll come with me and I'll let you breathe.”

He was nuts. Any second somebody would see them, wouldn't they? Where was everybody? Grateful for the years of tummy crunches, she curled her legs up and tried to hook her feet around his head. She settled for a kick to the ear instead, which just made him push his knee down harder on her throat until her vision went dim at the edges.

Focus on breathing. Just focus on breathing.

Chapter 11

P
aul was several blocks away
when he realized he hadn't seen her distinctive red Beetle following him. He was only going ten miles an hour; she should have caught up by now. Worried she might get lost—or worse, change her mind—he pulled over to the curb and watched the rearview mirror. But she still didn't appear.

Maybe she had changed her mind again.

You promised to be patient
, he told himself.

Scowling at the empty street, Paul swore and turned the car around. “Not that patient,” he muttered to himself. “Let's be realistic.”

He sped back the way he'd come and spotted her still-parked VW right before he saw what was happening on the ground beside it. Nearly crashing his car into a parked Escalade, Paul swerved over to the side of the road and leapt out with his heart pounding in his mouth.

“Stay back, asshole, or the whore gets a lesson.” It was the dickwad that should have been in jail. He had his knee at Bonnie's neck, her wrists pulled over her head on the ground, and wore a shit-eating grin that Paul was going to smash off his face.

“You stupid fuck,” Paul said. “Now they'll really put you away.”

His creepy-handsome face twisted into a smile. “But at least it'll be worth it.” He looked down at Bonnie. “And you're going to watch.”

Paul's senses began to shift and narrow, so that all he could see was Bonnie's frantic eyes and the choking weight at her throat, all he could hear was her labored breathing, and all he could taste was the blood in his mouth from biting down hard on his lips so he couldn't lose control of himself and inadvertently hurt her. Any sudden move might make the man panic and crush her voice box. If Paul moved slowly and calmly, Bonnie's neck would be safe. He just needed a little time to get closer.

“Hey, easy,” Paul said. Obviously, the man was more than just an evil fuck, he was crazy. Insanely reckless, like a man with nothing to lose. As he approached, buying time, he pulled out his phone and pressed 9-1-1. 

“Run,” Bonnie gasped. “Help.”

“Hang up! Hang up!” the man shouted, and Bonnie let out a strangled cry. Her face was twisted, darkening.

“All right, all right!” Paul made a show of pushing the phone off and tossing it into the grass beside the curb.

The man must have softened his hold, because Bonnie relaxed and sucked in a deep breath. Paul was only a dozen feet away now.

“What do you care what I do with her?” the man asked, his voice horribly calm. While Bonnie gasped for breath, he rubbed his cheek against hers. “You've already fucked her. What good is she now?”

The bastard never knew what hit him. Paul's blow to his left kidney lifted his weight off of Bonnie, who quickly rolled to the side and drove a knee upward into his groin. As he cried out in pain, Paul wrapped his arm under the man's neck and jerked him back, freeing Bonnie, who furiously kneed him again in the balls.

“Get the phone!” Paul twisted the jerk's arm behind his back and forced him face down, gasping and moaning, to the ground. “It should  be on. Maybe they're still on the line.”

Bonnie lifted it to her ear, managed to give Paul a small smile, and asked the dispatcher for help. At the same time, she gave the whimpering loser another swift kick in the ribs.

“Remind me never to get in a real fight with you,” Paul said, wishing he didn't have his hands full imprisoning a violent sociopath for the police so he could take her away somewhere safe and get started protecting her forever. Or at least kiss her.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. It felt like a declaration, and his heart imploded.

Then she drew back and drove the toe of her boot into the guy's other kidney.

The
police remembered both of them, and made sure the EMT's took Bonnie to the emergency room for a thorough exam and post-assault counseling. 

Everyone looked her over and wanted to fuss more. But she just wanted to go home. She wasn't really hurt, just a little sore. It had all happened so fast and she had never felt as though she was at the bastard's mercy. When Paul came along she was preparing a defensive move she was sure would have freed her. But she was glad to know Paul had a few tricks of his own.

Paul refused to leave her side, through every police interview and every EMT, nurse, and doctor exam, continuously gazing at her with burning, possessive eyes that in spite of everything made her warm and distracted. Fighting off the attack had left her pumped full of adrenaline, and when she stepped out of the hospital into the waning evening light, the last thing she wanted was a quiet pat on the back or anyone's pity.

Least of all Paul's.

“You're going to drive me to the top of that hill next to your house, that one with the view, and then you're going to wipe away the memory of that asshole with everything you've got,” she said. “Got it?”

He hesitated as though he was going to argue, then dropped the Florence Nightingale act and slid his hand under the shirt at her waist. “Got it,” he said quietly, stroking her tender flesh.

When they got to the top of the hill she had mentioned, a deserted bend in the road that overlooked the eastern sprawl of the Livermore Valley, Paul drove the Prius onto the gravel shoulder and killed the engine. He turned to her.

“Sure about this?”

The tender concern in his face filled her with a nameless contentment she'd never felt before. She smiled at him. “Very. I was in no real danger, you know. I was just waiting for somebody to come along before I had to kill him.”

“I believe it,” he said gravely. “Not that I'd cry at his funeral, but I'm glad you didn’t have to.”

Smiling, she climbed into the backseat.

The
street was deserted, but he wouldn’t have noticed a parade. Paul wiggled next to her on the seat and took her in his arms for a long, deep kiss.

His heart was melting, but his body was rigid with desire. She touched him, rubbed his erection through the fly of his jeans, kissed him, then climbed onto his lap and faced him with her knees straddling him. The sharp slope of the car pressed his head down at an awkward angle, but she was closer to the middle and was able to sit high in his lap. He gazed up at the soft, wiggling woman with her lips parted in arousal and shoved his hand between their bodies to free his cock.

“Turn around,” he said roughly.

She raised an eyebrow, smiled a smile that brought a seductive dimple to her cheek, and shifted her weight around so she was facing away from him.

He tossed his head back, banging it on the rear window, and groaned. Through half-closed eyes, he watched her lush, womanly body arrange itself over his big, hulking male one while his hands raked hungrily over her clothes seeking access.

“Just pull them down,” she gasped. “The pants. They stretch.”

Soon the swell of her ass was naked on his palms, and as he spread the lips of her wet pussy apart with his thumbs, she bent forward and cried out his name.

He remembered the condom in his pocket just in time, and she bent forward so he could put it on. 

“Have a seat,” he said.

She maneuvered herself over him, reached down with her hand to clasp his cock and guided him through the soft folds of her sex. Then she pushed down, impaling herself on him.