Voyeur - Lacey Alexander [78]
Sloane’s eyes narrowed. “How many times has this happened?”
Riley thought about it. “Three? Four? I’m not sure. I just know he was quite blustery about it, and she got very upset. Aunt Mimsey doesn’t get angry often, but Hawthorne had her in quite a state.”
She stopped blathering on when she caught the worried look in Sloane’s gaze. And she understood what he was thinking even before he said it.
“Riley, honey, I’m sorry, but you know where this all points, don’t you?”
She didn’t answer—couldn’t answer. The very notion was too horrifying.
“You know your aunt is starting to look guilty.”
Riley sucked in her breath. Aunt Mimsey was such an important part of her life, and had been like a mother to her ever since her own had died.Yet her aunt had slowly become more addled over the years. And she had coveted Mrs. Dorchester’s broach, as well as that Hemingway autograph. In fact, Riley feared that if she thought long and hard, she could find a connection between Aunt Mimsey and every item that had been stolen from the Dorchesters’ home. What if she’d been hiding them, thinking to come back for them later, after their disappearance had been forgotten? What if she’d thought it too dangerous to have them all in her possession until the Dorchesters gave up on finding them and this all died down?
All silly speculation, she assured herself. And she found it impossible to believe Aunt Mimsey was capable of murder . . . except for one terrible thing that even Sloane didn’t know about, because Riley had shut up before spouting it out. Aunt Mimsey had been so upset over her last row with Hawthorne that she’d said to Riley, “If that man yells at me one more time, I’m going to make him sorry.”
What if that time had come? What if Hawthorne had pushed Aunt Mimsey too far?
“Sloane, make love to me,” Riley pleaded, her voice rough with desperation.
He still held her but gently pulled back. “Riley, we need to call the police. We need to tell my aunt and uncle what’s happened. And you and I need to put our heads together to figure out who’s responsible.” He glanced toward the arbor. “Besides, the garden’s a little . . . occupied at the moment.”
“I don’t care—about any of that. Not right now. Just make love to me, Sloane—I don’t want to wait! Make me forget everything bad for a little while.Take it all away. Make it so there’s nothing but you—you inside me.”
She watched as Sloane’s eyes darkened—then began surveying the space around them. Taking Riley’s wrist, he pulled her hurriedly away from the garden’s entrance and into the shade of a large, sprawling maple tree, all green and billowy with summer. He threw the blankets to the ground, then pushed her to her knees, joining her there in a hard, urgent kiss.
This sex would be different than anything they’d shared in the garden, Riley knew. He’d taken her to heights unknown in that pristine setting, but this—outside the garden, in the tall grass, the heavy tree limbs dripping over them, swaying madly now in a sudden, warm breeze—would be something much wilder still.
Braden lounged comfortably on a sofa in Tommy’s office, a laptop balanced before him, while Tommy sat behind his desk, manning a larger computer. They took turns in a two-player quest game involving medieval castles and damsels in dungeons. Braden was down to his last of five swords, and unless he slayed the dragon guarding the moat on this try, he lost the game. But he wasn’t even sure they’d finish the game, given the topic he’d just broached with little warning. He’d just asked Tommy if he wanted to have a threesome with him and Laura.
Tommy stared at him around his screen. “Dude—you’re sure you want this?”
Braden gave a short, definite nod. “Do I ever do anything I