Kissing her yesterday had been a dumb move. He had let her provoke him. He’d lost his temper. He hadn’t been in control of himself. The excuse relieved his conscience, just enough for him to live with what had happened. At the same time, however, it scared the hell out of him. Alex had pushed him over the edge of sound reason. Only one other person had ever been able to do that—Celina.
How had the clever little witch tricked him into mentioning that kiss, he wondered. He hadn’t thought about it in years, but all of a sudden, it had been vivid in his mind.
It had been a hot September day, he remembered, when he had gone to check on Celina after she had failed to report to school. The old window air-conditioning unit had labored to cool the stifling little house without much success. The air was hot and humid, instead of hot and dry.
Celina wasn’t acting like herself. She had let him in, but had acted subdued, as though this first rite of passage into womanhood had robbed her of girlish animation. Her eyes had been puffy from crying. He had been scared that something was terribly wrong.
When she had told him about her period, he’d been so relieved he had wanted to laugh. He hadn’t, though. Her bleak expression had quashed any levity. He had put his arms around her, held her tenderly, stroked her hair, and reassured her that it was something wonderful, not shameful. Seeking comfort, she had wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled her face against his collarbone.
For a long time, they had just clung to each other, as they had so many times in the past when it seemed that the two of them were at odds with the rest of the world. But he felt a need to solemnize this occasion, to officially mark her departure from childhood.
He had kissed her cheek first. Tears had left it damp and salty. He kissed his way down. She caught her breath suddenly, and held it, until he pressed his lips firmly upon hers. It was a fervent but chaste kiss.
He had kissed other girls using his tongue. The Gail sisters were already adept at French kissing, and had been eager to share their expertise with him. At least once a week he met the three of them in the abandoned VFW hall and took turns kissing them, feeling their breasts, and slipping his hand into the elastic legs of their cotton panties to touch the hair between their thighs. They quarreled over which one got to undo his pants and fondle him first.
Those sweaty, sordid interludes made life with his father bearable. They were also the only secret he kept from Celina. What he did with the Gail sisters would probably embarrass her if she knew. It might also make her mad. Either way, it was better that she didn’t know about the condemned VFW hall and what he did there.
But when he felt Celina’s mouth beneath his, and heard that little catch in her throat, he had wanted to kiss her the correct way—the good and exciting and forbidden way. Unable to resist the temptation, his body had overruled his mind.
He’d barely touched the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue before he felt them separate. Heart pounding, blood boiling, he drew her closer and pushed his tongue into her mouth. When she didn’t recoil, he moved it around. She clutched his waist. Her small, pointed breasts burned like brands against his chest.
God, he had thought he was going to die of pleasure. It was immense. The experience rocked the foundations of his adolescent soul. His body had vibrated with volcanic energy. He had wanted to go on kissing Celina Graham forever. But when his penis became so engorged it pressed against her middle, he pushed her away and began babbling apologies.
Celina had stared at him for several seconds, wide-eyed and breathless, then threw herself against him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and told him that she was glad he had kissed her like that. She loved him. He loved her. They were going to get married someday, and nothing was going to come between them, ever.
Now Reede, rubbing his eyes tiredly, returned to his desk and flopped down into the creaky chair. He had been furious with Alex for calling forth memories he had strived for years to keep at bay. It had been his intention to punish and insult her with that kiss.
But, dammit, he hadn’t counted on her feeling so good against him—all fur coat and soft wool and warm skin. He hadn’t expected her mouth to taste so goddamn sweet. That sweetness still lingered on his tongue. How could he have guessed that her breasts would be that full and soft?
He sure as hell hadn’t bargained on his body becoming embarrassingly, instantly aroused for Celina’s daughter. It was harder than he’d ever gotten for the Gail sisters—harder than he’d ever gotten period. Hell, he was still hard.
That was just one reason why the impetuous embrace had left him feeling mad as hell at her and not much kinder toward himself. Alex Gaither, the woman he had kissed like crazy yesterday, had all but accused him of two murders, first Celina’s, then Pasty’s. Even if she couldn’t make those allegations stick, she could still spoil all his plans for the future.
He was so close to realizing his dreams. He was about to be where he’d worked hard all his life to get. She could mess it up royally. She didn’t even have to finger him. If she indicted any one of them, she would snatch his future away from him before he had fully grasped it. For that, he could easily choke her.
But when he thought about putting his hands on her again, it wasn’t to choke her.
“They told me you were in.”
“Did they also tell you that I’m due in court in a few minutes, and that between now and then I’m too busy to see anyone?”
Alex stepped into Reede’s office and closed the door behind her. “They mentioned it.”
“Where’d you get the idea that you’re exempt?”
“I thought you’d want to question me about the man who got killed.”
“You aren’t really a suspect. You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time, something you have a bad habit of doing.”
“You don’t think there’s a connection between me and his murder?”
“No, but obviously you do.” Propping his feet on the corner of his desk and stacking his hands behind his head, he said, “Let’s hear it.”
“I think you already know it. Pasty Hickam witnessed Celina’s murder.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me over the telephone.”