“Yeah.”
“Do you?”
She worried her bottom lip. “I do want to find her killer.”
That was all the answer he’d get.
The phone rang yet again. This time she didn’t jump out of her skin.
Chapter Ten
The sound of the ringing phone felt like part of a dream. It wasn’t. Max shivered with the cold of the linoleum against her butt as she sat on the kitchen floor. She listened for the dog’s bark next door, in case someone was close by. Though the smell of death was barely detectable now that she’d gotten used to it, she tasted the fetid air with every breath she took through her open mouth.
She knew Achilles was on the other end when he drew a breath to speak, felt his voice like it was a guitar pick striking a chord deep inside Bethany Spring. A chord of disappointment struck deep inside Max.
“I thought I’d die before I heard your voice again, Helen.”
Max had convinced herself Achilles was Bethany’s murderer. So much for her psychic abilities. If he had killed her last night, he certainly wouldn’t be calling the dead woman tonight.
Or would he? Maybe he was clever. Clever enough to try throwing the police off his track. Had there been an infinitesimal hesitation when she’d answered? Had there been some vital clue in his tone? Oh, but if he was setting her up, he was so very crafty about it.
“I didn’t think you’d call after our last conversation,” she murmured, buying time. Did she sound like Bethany? Would she fool him?
“Why wouldn’t I call? Because we fought? You should know better. The push-pull of any relationship is enticing, Helen, my love. I’ll always be back for you. Forgive me for pushing too hard?”
Deep. Throaty. Masculine. Bethany scrambled to the surface of Max’s consciousness. He was her Achilles. And more. Perhaps her Achilles’ heel. Her weakness.
“I forgive you.” Bethany would always forgive him if he kept calling her, kept telling her how beautiful she was, how seductive her tongue, her voice, and how enticing her imagination.
“What are you wearing tonight?”
There was something about that voice, something familiar yet elusive, something tempting yet frightening. It wasn’t because she’d heard it in her dreams. It was more. The timbre carried an underlying sense of menace she recognized from ... somewhere.
Max played the game, praying that in the end she would win all the answers she desired. Her lids fluttered down, shutting out the moon filtering through the curtained back door; so easy to let Bethany slip into her. All she had to do was allow the invasion. The cold floor fell away into the soft giving cushions of the sofa. The rough denim fabric of her jeans melted into the sensuality of satin.
“I dressed for you,” she whispered and knew he couldn’t tell the difference between Bethany’s voice and her own.
“Tell me,” he rasped, a breath warming her as though his lips were next to her ear.
Eyes closed, mind open, Bethany’s thoughts and feelings flooded her. For once, Max let them take over completely. Satin fell open across freshly shaved skin. The scent of peaches swirled in air still humid from her bath. She licked the luscious taste of chocolate from her lips and sipped the fruity wine.
“I’m wearing a teddy. I can feel the silk between my legs, pulling tight against me as I move. I imagine it’s your tongue.”
“Ahh, God. Touch yourself. Let me feel how you feel against your fingers.”
She’d heard his voice so many times, she’d know him anywhere. And nowhere. He could have been a thousand men. He could be only one. His moan vibrated through her body, ignited a fire between her legs.
Bethany’s legs parted, her hand skimmed her breasts, her beaded nipples, the smooth flesh of her belly, the silk of her curls. “I’m wet, slippery, soft. There, do you feel that, my clitoris?” She cried out as her index finger nudged the sensitive core. “Lick it for me.”
“You taste like whipped cream. Come in my mouth.”
Bethany’s fingers worked her magic, her hips bumping with the rhythm, his breath harsh in her ear.
“Put the phone down there. Let me hear you. Let me hear how slick and dripping you are.”
She came as she did, imagining his head between her legs and his tongue inside her, all over her.
She dragged the phone back to her ear.
“I want my cock in your mouth. Suck me, God, I love it when you suck me.”
As if he were right there with her now, she could smell his masculine musk. “I can taste the salt of pre-come on my tongue. I lick the tiny slit, stick my tongue in it and drive you wild. Then I take you, my lips all the way down to the base of your oh-so-lovely hard cock. Do you feel it? Do you like it?”
“Christ yes.” His breath was ragged in her ear.
“Faster and harder, I suck and swirl all around you.”