by Kathleen Hillcrest
 
 

Chapter 20

                        Maybe he should have called first.
         Trent stood anxiously on Amy’s front porch, shifting his weight from foot to foot after ringing the doorbell for at least the third time.  He’d been so excited to tell her the news about Cooke, though, that he hadn’t even thought to call.  He knew that she’d want to know as soon as possible, so he’d just sped right over.  What had he expected?  That she’d still be up, waiting to hear from him?  He didn’t even know for sure what time it was, just that it wasn’t light yet.  As usual, he wasn’t wearing a watch.
         Just as he raised his hand to try knocking, Trent heard movement from the other side of the door.  He waited.  Then it opened wide to reveal Amy trying, but failing, to suppress a yawn.  Her hair was down, tumbling about her shoulders.  She was clad only a robe that he could see.  Smooth folds draped to the floor from the sash at her waist, and her bare feet with polished toes peeked out from underneath.  Obviously, he had woken her up since she seemed to be having a hard time keeping her eyes opened and focused.  And her voice was drowsy and languid.
         All in all, she was beautiful.
         “Hey,” she said, sounding surprised.  She fumbled with the latch on the storm door for a second or two, then pushed it open.  “What are you doing here?”
         “We got him,” Trent said simply, grabbing the edge of the metal storm door for her.  She didn’t seem too steady at the moment.  Amy just stared at him blankly for a bit, and then Trent saw a spark on comprehension dawn in her eyes.
         “Y-you got him?” she asked with a start.
         When Trent nodded his head, a wide, jubilant smile spread across her face.  Then to Trent’s surprise, she reached out, grabbed a handful of the front of his shirt, and hauled him forcefully in through the door.
         “You caught him?  You really caught him?” Amy asked.
         Trent chuckled as he closed and locked the door behind him.  The grip she had on his shirt did not diminish.  She looked as eager as a kid in a candy store and sounded as amazed as if she’d just been told she could have all she wanted for free.  Then again, he couldn’t blame her.  It was pretty extraordinary.
         “Yes.  The police have him in custody as we speak,” Trent said.  His gaze dropped to the slender hand clutching his shirt in a fist, lingering there.  It was a strangely provocative sight, and he grinned as he wondered how long she was going to hold on to him like that.
         The answer was not much longer at all.  For almost as soon as he’d spoken, he had only a split-second warning from the smile on her face before her arms wrapped around his neck and she pressed her lips to his.  The kiss took him by surprise, but what a nice surprise, as much as the way she’d pulled him in the house had.  And it was just as forceful.  His eyebrows shot up; his arms went around her, he stumbled back a single step, and leaned against the door with a quiet thud.
         Amy hugged him back fiercely.  Her physical strength sometimes astonished him, for judging by her body weight and size she certainly didn’t look like any powerhouse.  But if she were any stronger, he’d have been gasping for breath.
         After a moment, Amy leaned back, looked at him, and sighed.  “Thank you,” she whispered solemnly.
         “You’re welcome,” Trent said warmly.  He meant that too, with all his heart.  At the same time, he couldn’t help teasing her.  “You looked like you didn’t think we would there for a minute.”
        Her smile started slowly, stealing up first one corner of her mouth and then the other side until it was all teeth.  Beautiful, straight, white teeth.  She lifted herself up on her toes and planted another quick, firm kiss square on his lips.  “I always knew you would,” Amy said with certainty.
        Well.  A lump started to form in Trent’s throat and he grinned just a little.  After a woman showed that much confidence and faith in you, she deserved a real kiss, didn’t she?  A long kiss.  A deep kiss.  Yes, that’s just what Amy deserved, and just what she was going to get.  With a slightly mischievous smile on his handsome face, Trent bent his head.
         His mouth was warm on hers, his lips soft and tender, just like the man himself.  Somewhere deep inside her mind, Amy marveled at the wonderful contradictions he posed.  She’d seen him angry and she’d seen him fight, tough and unforgiving.  But she also knew how gentle and sensitive he could be.  Two wonderful sides of the same man, both integral parts of who he was, and both becoming as important to her as food and water.
         Trent kept kissing her, little nibbling kisses at first that lengthened and deepened eventually.  Her lips turned to fire, the flames leaping up into her mind and searing her senses.  Amy felt him shift his legs apart, widening his stance.  His hands, which had been clasped at the small of her back, stroked up and down, then moved lower.  With his long fingers spread apart, he grasped her derriere and pulled her up against him, fitting her in between his legs and holding her close.
         Suddenly, Amy was melting into him, wanting more, and an intense yearning burned deep inside her.  She’d never felt yearning like this before, yearning run amok.  This wasn’t safe.  It was so bad she could taste it.  This aching need to belong to him, with him, was terribly unfamiliar.  And just a little frightening.  If she had a lick of common sense, she’d back off now; she’d stop kissing him.
        She didn’t stop.
        She couldn’t stop.
        Amy felt his hands stroking evocatively up and down her back, then a tug at her waist and a waft of cool air as her robe fell open.  Underneath, she was wearing a short, satin pajama set, a fact for which she wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or not at the moment.  Large, warm palms caressed her sides, lifting her shirt a little more with each pass.  Trent was teasing her, driving her crazy.  And he was doing it on purpose.  Amy was suddenly, lucidly, certain of that.
        She wanted to take his hands and shove them up under her shirt herself.  But she couldn’t stop kissing him.  She wanted to feel him touch her. Just once.  Just for a little while.  But she couldn’t stop kissing him.  And, if he would only do this only little thing, then she’d probably die from happiness.
        But that’s not what he did.  The cad.  Instead, his fingers dipped under the back waist of her shorts, just barely.  They paused there for a moment then plunged in.
        Holy cow, Trent thought.  Oh God, she wasn’t.  Immediately, he felt as if he were suffering from heatstroke at the possibility.  He touched her again, caressing the bare skin of her buttocks.  She was.  She was wearing only a skimpy pair of panties that left most of her cute little tush uncovered.  Geez, just the mental image of Amy clad only in those things had his pulse racing and blood pounding in his brain.  The delectable feel of the two lush mounds beneath his palms had his groin throbbing.  Damn, she was perfect.  What he was holding, kneading, in his hands right now was perfect: smooth, rounded, and soft, yet with an underlying firmness.
        Another wave of heat crashed over Trent.  Hands desperately roaming and clutching, he pressed Amy closer.  Rocking his pelvis, he intimately molded her body to the length of his.  Trent thought he heard her moan.  Maybe that was him.
         Amy did moan, soft and low.  She couldn’t help it.  It felt so good.  Okay, so it wasn’t exactly what she’d wanted a few seconds ago, but this was just as nice. She felt flushed and warm, as if she were running a mild fever.  Nothing uncomfortable though, just a pleasant, sensual feeling that tingled with desire.  Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, it felt perfectly normal and right to have him stroking her the way he was.  Now if he’d only go a little bit higher...
        Then Trent did just what Amy had been wishing he’d do.  Slowly his hands left her posterior and caressed their way up her back.  Briefly she thought about her scars, and wished she didn’t have them, but then she quickly decided that she didn’t care anymore.  Not right now anyway.  As long as Trent kept touching her and kissing her like this, it just didn’t matter.
        When his hands reached up under her arms and curled around the front, cupping her breasts, Amy eagerly pushed herself into him.  She couldn’t believe how brazen she was acting, like a cheap floozy.  She didn’t think she’d ever been this wanton in her life.  Not up until now.  It was all his fault.  It was a reaction to Trent’s touch that she couldn’t have controlled if she’d wanted to.  And that was the key.
        Amy didn’t want to.
        Well, she’d touched his chest enough times, Trent reasoned with himself.  Although, to be honest, his reasoning was almost wiped clean out by this point.  Wasn’t it his turn to touch her now?  What else was he supposed to do when she kissed him like this, not only with her mouth but with her whole body?  The way she was making herself right at home up next to him had his senses spinning out of control.  For a young, healthy, red-blooded man, which he was, his reaction was perfectly normal.  And for the attractive, sexy woman pressing against him to be someone about whom he felt very deeply, his desire was inevitable.
        Amy’s fingers dug into his neck and shoulders, but Trent didn’t care about that.  Hunger coiled through him like a whip of fire.  Perfect, this part of her was perfect too.  Hell, he was seriously beginning to think there was nothing about her that wasn’t perfect.  Yes, he knew all about her nasty temper and the ugly scars she bore on her back.  But those things were paltry in comparison to all her good qualities.  And he had his hands on two very good qualities right now.
        Then she stopped kissing him.