Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [147]
At present, she was under tight security with Sheriff Birkett living under her roof, there every night, and a deputy on guard duty 24/7. But divine providence would eventually smile down on him at the right moment, leaving Lorie vulnerable. And then she would be his.
He had loved her so deeply and completely and she was betraying him with another man. With Mike Birkett, the son of a bitch who had treated her so badly. Some women were just that way. The worse a man treated them the better they liked it. If only he had realized sooner that Lorie wanted to be punished.
He released his hold on the binoculars. They dangled from a strong, leather strap hanging from his neck.
He envisioned what the moment would be like when he claimed Lorie as his own, how she would look, what she would say, what he would do. The thought of her naked body aroused him unbearably. He would punish her and then screw her and then punish her again.
He would give her what she needed.
He would make her forget all about Mike Birkett.
He would become her hero. Her lover. Her protector.
He and no one else, not even the Midnight Killer, would decide Lorie’s fate.
Easing his hand out of his raincoat pocket, he reached under the coat and unzipped his jeans. He had to end the aching need. If he didn’t, he would do something foolish. Freeing his penis from his briefs and jeans, he thought about how Lorie looked in Midnight Masquerade. As he jerked off, images of her giving one of the actors in the movie a blow job flashed through his mind and helped him achieve a fast and furious orgasm.
Something aroused Nic from a light sleep. Had it been a sound? A light? Or simply instinct? With her eyes still half shut, she turned over in bed and wasn’t surprised to find Griff’s side empty. Scanning the room, semidark in the dawn light, she saw her husband’s silhouette poised on the balcony, his huge hands gripping the railing as he gazed out over the lake at the back of their house. How many times during their three-year marriage had she awakened to find Griff out of bed, often on the balcony or downstairs in his study? She knew that he seldom slept more than four or five hours at a time and that occasionally he would wake from a nightmare drenched in sweat.
Nic slipped out of bed, still naked from their lovemaking late last night, and walked across the room. Before she reached the open French doors, a cool breeze hit her skin. Griff lifted himself to an erect position and turned around to face her. She stood in the doorway and looked at her husband, daybreak painting the sky over the lake in vivid shades of pink and gold directly behind him.
He held out his hand to her.
She went to him.
He pulled her into his arms and held her against him.
“You’re cold,” he said as he ran his hands over her shoulders and down her arms. “Let’s go back inside.”
“How long have you been awake?” she asked as he slipped his arm around her waist and led her back into the bedroom, leaving the doors open behind them.
“Not long.”
“We should talk.”
“Talking is overrated.”
“Communication between a husband and wife isn’t,” she told him.
Griff led her to the bed, removed his robe, and lowered his head to kiss her. Nic lifted her hand between them and covered his lips with her fingertips.
He stopped and looked her in the eye. “You’re going to make me talk, aren’t you?” His lips curved in a hint of a smile.
“Put your robe back on and I’ll put on mine so our being naked won’t be a distraction.” She reached down, picked up his robe, and handed it to him.
While he put on the robe, she found hers lying on the floor and quickly retrieved it. After slipping into it, she motioned to Griff and he followed her into the sitting area of their bedroom. When they were seated together on the sofa, Nic reached out and took his hands in hers.
“Talk.”
“Someone is targeting my people,” Griff said. “It’s my responsibility to find out who and stop them before anyone else is killed.”
Nic squeezed his hands reassuringly. “I think you’re right. My gut instincts are