Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [64]
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
He was licking her breasts. Two dark drops like Hershey’s kisses. “What?”
“You know.” Shifting again. “Does it hurt?”
He picked his head up and kissed her hard on the mouth. “No, it doesn’t hurt. It feels good.” He ran his fingers down her spine and moaned. “I mean it’ll hurt if I don’t do something, but I’ll take care of that later.”
They kissed and kissed.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He talked through his kisses. “What do you mean what do I mean?”
“Like are you gonna go to another girl?”
Gabe stopped kissing and stared at her face. “What are you talking about?”
“You know . . . to take care of it.”
“Oh my God!” He shook his head in disbelief. “Are you serious?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “First of all, there is no other girl. Second of all, even if there was another girl who was willing, I don’t want her. I only want you. Third of all, what I meant was . . .” He held up his hand and stroked the air.
Yasmine looked at his pantomime and then covered her mouth in embarrassment. “Oh . . . I get it.”
“God, Yasmine, I adore you. I truly do.” He wiped the lenses of his steamed-up glasses. “But you really need some . . . brothers or something.” He took her hand away from her mouth. “Kiss me.”
They necked for a few more minutes. Then she said, “Do you want me to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Do to you what you were gonna do to yourself later on.”
He stopped kissing and stared at her. “Uh, that would be unbelievably fantastic.”
“I don’t mean sex, you know.”
“I know you don’t mean sex. I don’t expect sex.”
Her eyes got wet yet again. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“No worries. I’m so turned on right now, it won’t take any skill at all.”
“You won’t think I’m a slut?”
“No.”
“You won’t like me less?”
“I won’t like you less if you do it, I won’t like you more if you do it. I’ll adore you just as much either way.” He kissed her. “Honestly, do what you want, okay.”
“Do we have time?”
He looked at his watch. It was twenty after twelve. “We have oodles of time.” Pressing his bare chest against her naked skin. “Oh my God, you are so fine. I just want to eat you up. Kiss me.”
She planted a wet one on his mouth. “Okay. I’m yours. Show me what to do.”
Wordlessly, he grabbed their discarded clothing and then lifted her up. He walked out of the garage, both of them half-naked with her legs entwined around his waist.
She said, “Are you taking me to your bedroom?”
“Yeah.” He paused. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah.” She leaned her head against his bare chest. “That’s really okay.”
Chapter Twenty
Monday morning eight A.M., Marge walked into Decker’s office, holding two cups of lidded coffee. She set one on the desktop and took an empty seat. “I just had a troubling conversation with Wendy Hesse.”
“At eight in the morning?”
“Seven actually.” She popped the lid open, and her face was engulfed in steam. “Someone broke into her house last night.”
“That’s terrible.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Did she report it?”
“No, she didn’t. But she was very upset by what was taken—Gregory’s laptop.”
Decker picked up his coffee and sipped. “What else was stolen?”
“Nothing but the laptop seemed to be missing. The only reason why Wendy noticed the missing laptop was because she had put it on the dining room table the night before. She had intended to bring it into the station house today.”
Decker sipped coffee. “Why?”
“There were some disturbing images on it that she wanted us to see. She said that some of the pictures showed Gregory playing with a gun—pointing it, twirling it, putting it to his head.”
“Good Lord. How painful for her to see that.”
“She was crying over the phone. Since she doesn’t know one gun from another, she wanted us to see if it was the same gun he used to kill himself.”
“Why now? Hasn’t she been dodging you for over a month?”
“Yeah. I must have called her three or four times before I finally got the hint.”
Decker put his coffee down and fished out a notepad. “Did Gregory look upset or was he just fooling around or