Promise Me (Book One of the Kirkland Family)

Promise Me: Chapter 15

Chapter 15
 
Hannah couldn’t tell if he was flirting with her or being his typical smartassy self.  And what was with her cupping his behind like that?  The second her hand touched that denim-clad marvel, he’d taken another step up and taut muscles rippled under her palm.  Heavens!  Hannah had never been the type to randomly grab a man’s ass, but she was currently rethinking her position on that practice.  And before she made a bigger fool of herself and acted on her new reckonings, she urged him along the upper landing to her old bedroom in the back of the house.

And then promptly walked right smack into his back when he stopped in the doorway.  “Ow,” she said, rubbing her nose.  “Warn a girl next time you put on the brakes.”

“Stop staring at my ass and watch where you’re going,” he retorted, not moving any further into her room.  She peered around his shoulder.  Was there a rat or something taking up residence?  She’d admit that she hadn’t been in here in a while, though the room was relatively clean and the bed linens shouldn’t smell musty or anything.  So, what was the problem?

He answered, “Hell, no,” before she could ask.

“‘Hell, no’ what?”

He waved a frantic finger at the room.  “‘Hell, no’ as in ‘I am not sleeping in here’.”

Hannah looked at her old room again and smiled when she figured out his problem.  This was one of the rooms she had yet to redecorate.  It was still painted in little-girl pink with yellow and white roses dotting the canopy fabric over the bed and around the windows.  Built-in bookshelves next to a window seat held a mass of stuffed animals and her complete collection of The Babysitter’s Club books.  Justin still had not budged, though his jaw slacked more and more as his eyes landed on individual items, like her crystal unicorn on the old dresser, her wooden doll house tucked away in a corner, and the bedside lamp with its beaded fringe and glittery base.

“Don’t be a pansy-ass,” she said, hiding her giggles.  

He turned slightly toward her.  “You seem to have an unhealthy fascination with my ass.”

“Like I said, it’s a very nice ass--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know...too bad it’s attached to the rest of me.”

“A shame, really,” she sighed mournfully.  “An ass like yours could corrupt a convent of nuns, it could headline in a major motion picture, it could run for President of the United States...”

He grunted as she wound down.  “I get it.  I have a nice ass.  Are you flirting with me, Songbird?”

“Nope,” she lied outright.  “But speaking of your ass, move it and get in my bed.”

He grinned down at her, but he did take another step into her pink room.  “You know, normally when a woman says--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she cut him off, feeling mildly irritated by his continuous references to the women in his life.  Like she should care!  He chuckled aloud, but eventually, she managed to prod him across the floor to the canopied twin bed.  He sank down on the mattress and let out a groan of ecstasy.

“Is that down I’m feeling?” he asked, patting the bedspread.

“It’s a mattress topper...four inches thick,” Hannah said.  “I’m a picky sleeper, always have been.  I like a soft, warm bed with lots of pillows.  Wait until you feel the sheets.  They’re made from bamboo.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, uncertain of what she was implying.  “Bamboo?”

“The softest set of sheets you’ll ever lie on,” she informed him.

“If you say so,” he replied slowly.

“I do,” she affirmed, and said, “Now take off your shirt.”

“Why?”

“Some of your scratches need doctoring,” she said, staring at the nasty one on his chest.  As long as she looked only at the scratch, and not the chest it marred, she was fine.  But gracious, she couldn’t help noticing the patch of blonde fur right there...so soft, yet so masculine.

“Oh,” he said, trying to look down, but his head couldn’t angle far enough to see.  “I can get it.”

“You can’t even see it,” she said.  “Now take off your shirt, and I’ll get something to clean it with.”  He still tried to rear his neck back to see the scratch just under where his collarbones met in the middle, but his eyes crossed and he had to shake his head to clear his vision.

“Fine,” he growled, tackling the first of many buttons.  Hannah caught a glimpse of more chest flesh and chest hair, and suddenly the room was stifling.  She darted out to the bathroom for cotton balls and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.  Maybe she should let him do it.  

I don’t know if I can handle touching him, she thought, trying like hell to cool herself and calm her shaking fingers.  He was a handsome one, but so damn irritating!

I know!  I’ll suggest he do it himself in the mirror here!  Yeah!  That’ll work.  After all, he did tell me not to touch him again.  The bastard.

“I was just trying to help,” she snarled at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

But when she got back to the bedroom, she found him reclining back on top of the bedspread, his yummy torso bare to the waistband of his jeans, his head resting on a pile of pillows, one booted foot hanging over the side of the mattress, the other looking like he tried to toe off the boot but got too tired to finish.  His eyes were closed, his jaw was slack, and his breathing was even.  Asleep already?  Tiptoeing across the room, she had to smile at him.  Like this, no visible scowl on his face, he was very handsome indeed.

She hated to wake him.  Heaven knows he stayed up all night with Josie, and he deserved to rest peacefully for a few hours.  But dang it.  Some of those thorn scratches were looking kind of red.  They had to be cleaned.

Tipping a cotton ball into the bottle of peroxide, she inhaled deeply.  Then she cautiously dabbed at the biggest gash.  He sucked in a breath and muttered, “Cold,” but otherwise, he didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.  “I didn’t want to wake you, but this has to be done.”

She continued to swab his lacerations, wincing when he winced and blowing softly on them to ease the sting.  It had been a very long time since her face had been this close to a man’s bare chest...and he smelled so good!  Even for a man who’d been up all night.  Finishing the last scrape on his shoulder, she bent down one more time to fan away the cold sting with her breath...and jerked when his fingers touched her cheek.  Hannah flicked her eyes up to his face, but his were still closed, though his fingertip traced her jawline from chin to ear.

“Thank you,” he murmured, dropping his hand away from her face.

Hannah cleared her throat and straightened.  A searing warmth still lingered where he caressed her.  “You’re welcome.  Let me help you with your boots, and then I won’t bother you again.”

Tossing the used cotton balls in a nearby trash can, she walked to the end of her bed and gripped a brown boot in both her hands.  With a mighty heave, it came off, and she nearly fell on her butt.  The second boot was a little more temperamental.  It wouldn’t budge.  “Justin...a little help here.”

He groaned softly, but he raised his other foot and toed off the heel of his remaining boot.  Hannah pulled on it roughly, and this time, she did fall backward.  “Sorry,” he mumbled, hearing her rump hit the wood floor.

“That’s okay,” she said, putting his boots next to the bed.  She opened her mouth to say something about the enormous size of his footwear, but when she glanced at his face again, he was back to dreamland.  Hannah didn’t have the heart to wake him just so he’d have the pleasure of hearing her jab at his feet.  But she did roll him to his side enough to yank the blanket and top sheet from under him and cover his body with the soft linens.  As he groaned a second time, she recognized this sound as being one of pure luxury.  Gotta love good sheets!

Before she escaped from his presence, Hannah wondered if he’d rouse if she kissed him again.  But she didn’t have the heart or the courage to experiment with such a foolhardy speculation.  Letting out a regretful sigh, she left him alone and retired to her own down-filled mattress and bamboo sheets.

*****

The first time Justin woke up, he had to piss like crazy.  Stumbling his way to a bathroom, he barely recognized his surroundings.  Once he finished his business, his eyes were a little more open and he took a few seconds to look around the second floor of Hannah’s house.  He found her bedroom right off, and that was her, curled up in a brass bed, snoring softly into a multitude of pillows.  She wore only a pair of cotton shorts that barely covered her rear and a tiny tank top.  Hugging an enormous body pillow, she slept with one tanned leg outside of the blanket.  Her bare feet fascinated him.  Her toenails were painted a sheer purple color, and her pinky toe was so tiny, he imagined how she could even get it painted.  Then there was her red hair, fanning out behind her as she lay on her side.  Justin dared himself to creep into her room and feel if her hair was as soft as it looked, and see if he could get out again before she woke up and started screaming at him.

The challenge was too tempting to walk away from.

And the strand of red silk sliding through his fingertips was softer than he could even imagine.  Why did she have to be so damn beautiful?  This would be so much easier if she was ugly, mean and selfish.

But she wasn’t any of those things.  Not like he once thought.  Sure, she had a vicious tongue, but she truly wasn’t hateful in her heart.  Heading back into the dreaded pink bedroom, he recalled how she cared for his scratches -- they didn’t even hurt at all now -- and apologized for waking him, and even muscling him under the blankets when she probably figured he couldn’t move another muscle.  She didn’t have to do any of that.  She didn’t have to stay with him and Josie last night.  She didn’t have to drive him here so he wouldn’t get himself into an accident, and she sure didn’t have to offer him a place to sleep.

What would she do for him if she actually liked him?

And that was the thought that hung around in his mind as he drifted back to sleep...along with, I've gotta get some of these sheets!

*****

The second time Justin woke up, it was to the sound of music drifting through an open window.  Songbird was singing.  He lay there, staring up at the tiny roses on the bed’s canopy, listening to the sound of her voice and the strum of her guitar.  The savory aroma of something wonderful filled the house, and his stomach growled eagerly in response.

He had no idea what time it was.  He’d removed his watch last night, and he couldn’t remember what he did with it, and there was no clock in the room.  But the slant of the sun through the windows told him it was well past noon, maybe even into the afternoon timeframe.  He’d slept most of the day away.

Knowing he needed to get back to the hospital, he sat up in the bed and leaned over with his elbows on his knees.  He was sore, but not tired anymore.  He could stay up another night, if need be.  His mind drifted to his daughter.  How was she doing?  He should call her, but when he checked his cell phone, his battery was dead.  Great.  Hopefully, Hannah would let him borrow her phone.  

With a groan, he stood and stretched his muscles.  His skin tightened where the thorn scrapes had already started healing and he absently scratched at the one on his chest.  That’s when he noticed the note on the dresser addressed to him.

Justin,
I’m sorry, but your shirt had a large rip in it, and I’m not very handy with a needle.  Here is one that might fit you.  And I had to open the windows in your room since my air conditioner is cantankerous and the upstairs can get a little warm in the afternoons.  Dinner is waiting.  Come on down whenever you’re ready.
Hannah

He dropped the note back on the dresser and held up a t-shirt she’d left for him.  Yeah, it would fit, and it was obviously a man’s shirt -- the screen printing of the U.S.S. Enterprise was a dead giveaway.  Maybe she’s not as socially inactive as she claims, if she’s got men’s clothes stashed away in her house.  Maybe it’s Mark’s shirt.

Maybe you should put the damn thing on and stop thinking about it.

So, he did.  After all, he couldn’t run around in public with just his jeans and boots.  Then again, he remembered that his bags from his work trip were still in his truck.  He didn’t need to wear Mark’s shirt.  But Hannah had his keys, and until he got them back, he couldn’t get into his truck to get another shirt...or my toothbrush, he thought, grimacing at the taste in his mouth.  And then he saw his truck keys lying on the dresser, too, with his travel case.  So, she did decide to give the keys back.  He could skedaddle right now, and not have to face Hannah at all.

Coward.

But as he exited the bedroom, jaunted into the bathroom to scrub some toothpaste in his mouth and picked his way down the stairs and into her kitchen, he told himself it was the tempting aroma of dinner that pulled him in Hannah’s direction.  Nothing else.  Through the screen door to the backyard, he saw her, lying in a hammock tied between a large oak tree and a post for a clothesline.  She had her guitar on her stomach, idling strumming out notes and humming under her breath, as one bare foot dangled over the side, gently rocking her body side to side.

He didn’t want to startle her, so he carefully opened the screen door and stepped out onto her back porch, taking in her backyard.  If the front lawn resembled the jungles of Guatemala, then the backyard was an oasis in paradise.  Other than the hammock, there was a brick patio below the porch with one of those old-fashioned picnic tables and a few lounge chairs flanking a large potted rose bush.  Justin glanced at the thorns on the rose bush and rubbed his chest again through the cotton of Mark’s t-shirt.  He also noticed the quaint, well-kept vegetable garden tucked away in the far corner of her property, the neatly-trimmed grass between it and the patio and the freshly-painted gardening shed in another corner.  A privacy fence lined the perimeter of the yard, and vibrant flower beds trimmed out the boundaries of the fence.  He even spied a few butterflies fluttering around.  All in all, it was a very nice backyard retreat.  Someplace even he would love to spend his summer afternoons.

His steps didn’t make a sound as he walked up to her.  With her facing away from the house, he was right behind her before he noticed her eyes were closed.  She still wore the same top and shorts from when he spied on her sleeping form earlier, but now, he could see the straps of a bra on her shoulders.  That’s a shame.  Her humming had drifted into a song he didn’t recognize, but it sounded very sensual coming from her lips.

“...What if I had learned to fly
Fly all night till day drew nigh
Touch down upon a branch and
Scan the crowd for you
When I touch my feet on the land
I'll kiss your lips and take you in
But you know I'm not here to stay
It's just too far...”

He watched her mouth as she sang softly, mesmerized by the shape of her words coming out of those lips he kissed last night.  Her eyelashes fanned out on her cheeks, devoid of any kind of makeup they were darker in color than he’d assume for a true redhead.   And when she licked her lips between verses of her song, he wondered if she’d ever let him kiss her again.  But not until he brushed his teeth.

“Nice song,” he said, looking down at her.  As though she knew he stood above her head, she cracked open an eye and smiled at him, her fingers continuing to pluck at her guitar strings.

“It was my daddy’s favorite,” she said.  “How are you feeling?  Rested?”

“Yes, I am,” he said and waved at her yard.  “You maintain the backyard, but the front...”

She laughed softly.  “I hire a neighbor kid to mow the front, but he’s been away at summer camp for the last two weeks.”

“Then why don’t you mow it?”

“And upset Ryan?  Never,” she chided teasingly.  “He’s saving up for a new XBox.  I’d hate to stifle his dream of slacking-off in style.”

"Charitable of you," he said.

"I know, ain't I?" she asked, swinging out of her hammock and dropping her guitar onto the canvas fabric.  "Hungry?"

"Starved," he admitted, "but you don't have to feed me.  I'll get something at the hospital.  I just wanted to say thanks for the bed and shirt before I head out, although the rip in my other shirt was kind of your fault."

Instead of getting pissed like he assumed she would, she smiled cutely and smoothed the knit fabric of the t-shirt over his shoulders.  "You're welcome for all of it, and I'm glad the shirt fit.  You're taller than Daddy was, but otherwise you're both about the same size."

Justin felt like an ass while he plucked at the t-shirt.  "This was your dad's?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling softer in remembrance as her ministrations to the shirt slowed.  "Big Star Trek fan.  He loved this shirt.  Wore it every Saturday."

Well...crap.

"I can't take his shirt," he said.  "It obviously means a lot to you."

She stopped brushing the fabric over his chest and shoulders.  "Don't sweat it.  It's fine.  You can return it later."  She sighed and met his eyes for a brief second.  There were tears building in her hazel depths.  "Have a seat at the table and I'll grab dinner."

"Really...I need to get going.  Josie's probably wondering where I'm at."

Hannah smiled again, the sadness leaving her.  That was good.  He didn't like to see her sad.  "I already called her," she announced.  "She's doing great, and like us, she slept for most of the day.  And she told us not to show up until after 6:00 because they're wheeling her down to watch a movie and she doesn't want to miss it."

"What time is it now?"

"Almost five...how does stuffed pork chops sound?"

He stomach was rude enough to answer her.  Hannah grinned and laughed and patted his tummy.  "One home-cooked meal coming up."

Home-cooked...god, it's been so long...

Realizing she was now laughing at the look on his face, he had the grace to smile sheepishly.  “Sorry, it’s been awhile since I’ve had a good meal.”

“Didn’t they feed you boys on your submarine?”

“Turkey, the cook, makes a mean cheese omelet, but let’s face it, it’s practically cafeteria food,” he explained.

Hannah wrinkled her forehead.  “Turkey?”

Justin laughed.  “Yeah, skinny little dude, but he’s got this gobbler thing under his chin...turkey-like.”

“Poor guy,” she said with a twinkle in her hazel eyes.  “So, nothing home-cooked in a while, huh?  I thought you said you stopped in Spain.”

There was a slight question to that last sentence, and Justin knew what she was referring to.  Did he go see his brother?  Her ex-boyfriend?  And probably, how was he doing?  And did Luke remember her?

A snippet of irritation jolted through him.  Did she still have a thing for his little brother?  Well, he had news for her, Luke was very happily married and barely thought about her at all.  “Yeah, I did,” he said, his voice growing tight.  “I went to see Luke...and his wife and my nieces.  He’s very content and has a fulfilling life and a loving family.”

If he hoped to make her as peeved as he felt, his attempt was in vain.  If anything, the twinkle in her eyes magnified as she gazed up at him.  “I’m happy to hear it,” she said, though he thought he heard a note of regret in her voice.  “He has a beautiful family.  Luke deserves to be content, fulfilled and loved.”

“So, you’re not jealous?” he blurted.  Hell, why did I ask that?  Who cares if she’s jealous?

She gazed at him evenly.  It would be so much easier if she still loved Luke.  “Jealous?  Why would I be jealous?  If anything, I’m envious.  Everyone should have such a devoted and loving marriage and life.  Maybe, one day, even myself.”  And with that, she looked away, busily tugging on the hem of her shirt down.

Dammit!  Why can’t she have one petty, selfish bone in her body?  As she spoke, Justin heard the honesty in her words, and it just made him want to kiss her again.  But then again...she seemed wistful, as though life had delivered a blow to her heart because Luke was happy.  And yet, she wasn’t whining about it, instead squaring herself to the inevitable.

“I’ll get our dinner,” she said while he stood there, staring at her in utter confusion.  He didn’t believe her.  He refused to believe her.  She was obviously still infatuated with Luke, but she refused to let it rule her.  Justin wanted to throttle something.  Some sense into her -- Luke doesn’t love you anymore!  -- or some sense into himself -- She’s trouble, man...stop thinking of kissing her again!  

Hannah trotted on bare feet into the house, and he moved over to the picnic table, squeezing his legs underneath.  He was a little cramped, but short of sitting on the ground, where else would he eat out here?  She came back, only moments later, with a platter of food in one hand, a tea jug in the other, and a wicker basket filled with dishes hanging from her arm.  Justin tried to stand to help her, but she just shook her head with a laugh.

“No, no, don’t get up,” she said, smiling with impish amusement.  “You may not get back under there.  Sometimes I forget how much taller you are, though I can’t imagine how I could forget such a thing.  And frankly, I’m surprised the navy let you on a submarine.  Don’t they have height regulations?  All the movies I’ve seen, the guys are short and scrawny little squirts.”

She laid out their meal as she talked, and Justin’s eyes devoured the tempting menu.  Golden-brown pork chops stuffed with apples and cranberries, sauteed summer squash with red peppers and onions, and scalloped potatoes.  His mouth started drooling.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” he said, but was thinking, oh, god, yes you did!

She shrugged as she poured iced tea for both of them.  “I like to cook, but I rarely get a chance to cook for more than just myself, and I’m not a big left-over fan.  Usually, I eat frozen dinners or take-out.  It’s more convenient.  Dig in.  I don’t live on ceremony here.”

Justin eagerly picked up his fork and knife, cut off a chunk of pork, and stuck it in his mouth.  “Oh, yeah,” he moaned in ecstasy.  Hannah smiled at him, but did not comment.  She let him eat in peace for a little while, and then she said, “So...back to my subject on submarines.   Josie told me you joined the navy after college.  That must have been difficult, leaving your wife and child for the military.”

“Hardest damn thing I ever did,” he said.  “Leaving Josie, that is.  Now, leaving Beth?  I probably should have never went back to her.”

Hannah twirled her fork around in her squash, gazing thoughtfully at him.  “I’m sorry to hear your marriage didn’t work out.  I know it’s been hard on Josie.”

Justin jerked his eyes to her.  “What did Josie say?”

“Only that she wished her mother loved her more, and she’s glad that you’re divorced.”

He stopped eating and swallowed the hunk of potato in his mouth.  “She said that?”

Hannah nodded silently.  Then she sighed and sipped her tea.  “I want you to know, that it was never my intention to pry into your private life, but Josie needed to talk about it.  And I think she doesn’t know how to talk to you about how she feels about it all.”

Justin dropped his fork and rested his elbows next to his half-finished plate.  He curled his fists together and laid his forehead on them, his eyes focusing on a wayward cranberry.  “She tell you everything?”

Softly, Hannah answered, “All that she knows about, and it’s a lot for a thirteen-year-old.  She’s got a fairly good insight on her mother.”

“What kind of insight?” he asked, not raising his head.

He heard her breathed out in remorse, but she replied, “The cheating, the lying, the abandonment...she overheard her mother telling other people that she never wanted a baby at all and wished she didn’t now...and about how she fixed it so that she never could again.”

Justin’s heart seized.  He didn’t know Josie knew about that.  He’d only found out about Beth getting her tubes tied because she went through his insurance to do it.  He never confronted her about it, and she probably assumed he didn’t know at all.  His fists clenched together in anger.  That bitch!  Saying those things in front of her own daughter.  Justin always knew there was something missing in that mother-child relationship, but it had taken him years to finally believe it.  How could a mother despise her own little girl?

“Justin?” Hannah whispered.  His whole body tightened at her tender voice.  This woman sitting here loved Josie more than Beth did.  It wasn’t right!  

“I’m sorry,” she murmured when he didn’t respond.  “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything...”

“No, no,” he finally spoke, lifting his face to her.  “I’m glad you did.”  They stared at one another through several seconds, until he cleared his throat.  “I should be going.  I need to head back to the farm for a shower before going to the hospital.”

He started gathering his dishes as he scooted out of the bench seat of the picnic table, but she waved him off.  “Leave it.  I’ll clean up.”

He stood and stretched out his legs.  She rose with him, her tanned legs swinging effortlessly out of her side of the table.  And honestly, as they stood there, looking at each other, he didn’t know how to say goodbye or to even thank her for everything she’d done.  As if she could read the hesitation and uncertainty on his face, she smiled tenderly and said, “You don’t have to say anything, Justin.  It was my pleasure.”

“Was it really?  I thought you said you regretted yourself,” he replied solemnly.  And then she chuckled.

“I’ll admit, that at first, you were not making it easy to be nice to you, but you’ve come around.  You can be very cordial when you want to be.  I’m glad I could help -- for Josie, if it makes this easier for you.”

No...not really...it’s not easier at all...

Because if he didn’t kiss her now, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get the courage to do so.  And if he was lucky, they might not have to face each other for a few days -- or at all -- and he won’t have to explain his unfettered desire to taste her lips again.  Taking a step toward her, he asked, “Are you going to see Josie later?”

She blinked as he got closer to her, but she didn’t back away or evade him.  “I’ll pop in for a little while.  I promised I would.”

“And you keep all your promises?”

“I try to,” she said, her voice hitching as he closed the gap between them.

“Then promise me something.”

Her eyes widened as he stopped only inches away from her immobilized body.  “Wh-what?”

“That you don’t tell Josie I kissed you,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes.  She seemed to relax and let out a startled laugh.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “that’s not a conversation I’m anxious to have.”

“Both times,” he declared.

“Both times?”

“Yeah,” he said, reaching up to touch her jaw with his fingertips.  “Not this one either.”  And he lowered his mouth to hers, slowly, giving her the opportunity to turn away, but she didn’t.  With a whimper, she closed her eyes and let him kiss her again.

This time, he took the opportunity to learn the shape of her lips against his, tipping her face up with his fingers and exploring everything about her response.  He felt her palms rest on his chest, curling her fingers into his borrowed shirt, clutching to him as he manipulated her lips leisurely before diving into her mouth.  When their tongues touched, she made another whimpering sound, and he lost any control over the kiss.  A feral growl echoed out of his throat.  He pulled her roughly against his body and devoured her.  She tasted like the apple stuffing from their meal, and she tasted like Hannah.  His hand snaked around her waist and under her shirt, searching, clutching for bare skin.  She rose up on her tiptoes, her mouth and tongue feasting on him in much the same way he tried to consume her.  Yet, her motions were delicate...a bit untried, as though she’d not been kissed in a long time, and the animal inside him roared with the revelation.

When his lungs begged for oxygen, he broke away, trailing open-mouth kissed along her jaw and down her neck.  She arched into him, her head falling back as she gasped for her own allowance of life-saving air.  He massaged the skin of her lower back and hip with one hand and threaded his fingers of his other hand through her silky hair.  Her hands slid up his chest and locked behind his neck, and he found his way back to her mouth.  She responded enthusiastically, pressing her breasts against him so that he could feel the rapid thumping of her heart.

He shouldn’t have let it go on this long.  He was hard -- painfully and dangerously, twitching and thrusting against the fly of his jeans, snarling at him to be released.  In about two seconds, he was going to toss her on the picnic table and find the fastest, easiest way to get inside her.

One Mississippi....

Two Mississippi...

Three...

*****