Heels and Heroes
Page 11

He laid her carefully on the bed and she stared at him openly. A small smile on his face, he moved to cover her body with his.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, his mouth so close to her, warmth touched her ear when he spoke.
“You never seemed to. I mean—”
He cut off her argument by taking her mouth with his. His hands were everywhere, caressing her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. And when he slipped between her legs and touched her in her most sensitive place, her body arched toward him, almost out of her control.
“Always in those sexy little outfits. With your snappy comebacks and—”
“Justin, I—” Words escaped her as his mouth was back on her skin, moving quickly down her body. Then his insistent tongue joined his hand between her thighs, stroking her to new heights. Within seconds, an explosion rocked her body. If he hadn’t held her down, she would have flown off the bed, out of his room, into the sky. But he held her, whispering sweet words in her ear that she couldn’t understand.
His mouth was back on hers when she came back to herself. But she still couldn’t think right, couldn’t get enough air. And he moved against her in such a way she needed him even more desperately than she had before.
She reached between them, and gripped his arousal. He moaned against her neck, and she stroked him until he pulled her hand away.
“Vixen,” he muttered, and she let out a breathy laugh.
Then he was gone. She heard the snick of a condom wrapper, and his weight settled over her again before she could tell him to hurry. Propping himself on his elbows, he held her gaze, his dark eyes so intense with emotion her mouth went dry. Slowly, as if he was afraid to hurt her, he pushed himself into her heat.
Sweat touched his brow from the effort of moving slowly. But she didn’t want slow. She needed him to take her with the same intensity she saw in his eyes.
She gripped his butt hard and writhed against him, her body aching and trembling with need. Groaning against her mouth, he moved. Thrusting and sliding in a delicious rhythm that she could barely keep up with. She flew again. This time, with Justice at her side.
Chapter Seven
The smell of bacon woke her, and she sat up in the bed, confused until the night’s memories came rushing back to her. Justice, defending her against her brother’s matter-of-fact insults. Justice, loving her with his hands, his mouth, his body. And Justice, who now seemed to be making her breakfast. She lay back down for a moment, reveling in the pleasantly warm afterglow that remained after an almost-sleepless, but entirely wonderful, night.
After a few minutes of fighting the urge to slip back into sleep, Brenda forced herself out of bed. She grabbed a T-shirt from a clean pile that had yet to be put away from the top of his dresser and pulled it over her head. None of her clothing seemed to have made the trip with her, so she padded down to her room and grabbed underwear and a pair of cotton shorts she normally slept in.
The woman who greeted her in the bathroom mirror looked like she’d spent the night being ravaged and doing a bit of ravaging herself. Brenda grinned stupidly and tried to get her hair into some semblance of order. When she was as good as she was going to get without a shower, she walked out to the kitchen.
“Morning, beautiful,” Justice’s face lit with a masculine smile, and he pulled her into his arms for a kiss that made her heart race. “I hope you like bacon,” he said, giving her a wicked grin as he returned to the stove.
“I love bacon,” she replied, and the smell of it filled her nose as it sizzled on the stove, making her mouth water. She hoped cooking was a domestic skill he actually excelled at. It would be the only one she had seen evidence of since her arrival at his home.
He sent her from the kitchen and a few minutes later appeared in the dining room with two plates full of bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, and toast. Her arteries and waistline protested, but she dug into the food vigorously.
“Wow, you can cook,” she said, after swallowing a perfectly fried potato.
“Don’t sound so surprised.” He grinned at her, almost halfway through with his plate. “Just because I don’t like to clean up—and can’t bake—doesn’t mean I don’t like to eat well.”
“So, what’s on our agenda today,” she asked, wondering how on earth he could eat so fast.
“I’m going to check in with the League, see what progress they’ve made since yesterday. We need to find this guy soon, before he moves on.”
She nodded. If they didn’t get Howler, she would need to follow him wherever he moved on to. She was the only one with her particular power that she knew of, and she wouldn’t feel right leaving some other group of superheroes to deal with what she was now thinking of as her mess. That would be tough to do; getting out of work now and then was okay, but she’d feel like an irresponsible jerk if she had to just take off for weeks to find the guy. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, you should stay here.”
“Excuse me?” She bristled at his tone. She didn’t care how good the man was in bed, he couldn’t give her orders. Well, technically being a League council member to her normal membership he could, but she wasn’t about to let him get by on a technicality.
“Look, Bren, I know you want to get this guy, but he wants to get you, too. I think it’s best if you stay here where it’s safe. I’ll let you know if we need you.”
“If? Don’t you mean when?”
“Of course.” He got up from the table and grabbed her plate along with his own, stopping to plant a kiss on the top of her head, and then headed for the kitchen.
A few minutes later he reappeared from the bedroom, wearing his uniform, with a long coat over it, probably to hide his appearance from his neighbors. He carried his mask in one hand, and his keys in the other. “I’ll be in touch. Stay out of sight, and call me if you see any sign of him, okay?”
She gave him a short nod and stiffened when he pulled her close for a kiss good-bye. As his Porsche roared out of the driveway, she muttered a curse under her breath. Who did he think she was? She wouldn’t sit on the sidelines while other people got hurt hunting her villain. But he said he would call, and she trusted him, didn’t she? He’d call her if they found Howler, and she just have to keep from going crazy until then.
After washing the dishes, which Justice had conveniently left piled in the sink, Brenda took a shower and donned her practical superhero outfit, minus the mask, and then wandered around the house. She didn’t mean to pry, but couldn’t help herself from straightening up his room. She made the bed, and then glanced through the collection of books that lined his wall, most of which revolved around police procedures and evidence collection, with a few mystery novels thrown in, as well.
A quick peek into his nightstand drawers turned into a full-fledged search. The one on the side of the bed she’d woken up on was nearly empty, save for some loose change and a long-forgotten travel-size bottle of aspirin. But the drawer on his side of the bed had a far more interesting stash.
Her face burned when she picked up the box of condoms and set them on top of the nightstand. He’d torn them open with such haste that the top and half of one side was ripped away and was sitting in the drawer next to the box. Under that, she found a small container of mints and a half-empty wrapper of antacids.
Beneath those and still more change and an extra set of Porsche keys on a ring with other keys she couldn’t so easily identify, was a small stack of photographs.
The pictures, nine in all, showed the smiling faces of an obviously happy family. The man in the picture sported the same hair, skin, and facial features as Justice, though his clothes placed him in an era before Justice was a man. The little boy in the photos had to be Justice. He wore the smile she’d glimpsed only a few times since meeting him, wide and open, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
The other two in the pictures could only be his mother and younger sister. The woman was blonde like Brenda, but her hair was a few shades darker. The little girl’s long, blonde pigtails were much lighter than her mother’s hair, at a young age anyway. After leafing through photographs of the family picnicking, boating, and sitting around a gorgeously decorated Christmas tree, Brenda placed the pictures and other items back into the drawer.
Guilt tugged at her, but she couldn’t help feeling happy after glimpsing that cheerful family. Justice had never mentioned them. It was probably a sore subject since he’d moved to Chicago and likely didn’t get to see them as much as he wanted to anymore, but it surprised her he hadn’t at least said something about them in passing.
The sound of her cell phone interrupted her thoughts, and she shut the drawer and sprinted down the hall to grab it off the coffee table. She frowned at her work number, but flipped the phone open.
“Hello?”
“Brenda?” Maria’s voice sounded frantic.
“What’s wrong, Maria?”
“Can you get in touch with that superhero you were with the other day? Something’s happening here at the hospital; we’ve called the police but—” Abruptly, all sound on the line stopped.
“Maria? Maria what’s going on?” Brenda pulled the cell phone away from her ear and looked at it. The screen read: Call Failed.
She grabbed her purse from the coffee table and tossed her phone in. She would call Justice on her way. After making a quick stop in the spare bedroom to grab her mask, she hit the road.
***
Justice hadn’t even arrived at the Chicago League’s headquarters when his cell phone rang. He flipped his phone open.
“Yes?”
“We have an address for you.” StrongArm’s voice was calm, like always, but the hint of worry in his tone that made Justice’s stomach clench.
“Where?”
He arrived at Pranier Medical less than ten minutes after hanging up, a new record of breaking traffic laws left in his wake. He made his way through the police barricade just forming around the hospital. StrongArm, Char, and Violet stood in the parking lot, around a hundred yards from the front entrance.