Page 118 of A Naked Beauty

“Dee.” My hands circle her wrists, stopping the fingers from strumming any farther down my torso. “I thought I’d feel more relieved…more settled. But I just feel messed up from seeing him.”

“I think that’s normal, Mick.” Her lips move across my back. “You’ve been tied to him for years. Feeling free isn’t going to happen just like that. It’s going to take time. But you will get there. For tonight, just acknowledgethat you confronted him. You let him know that you’re done, that he doesn’t have control anymore. You conquered. And that’s pretty amazing.”

“Baby—”

“I’m here,” she whispers. “I love you. Let go of my hands. Let me take care of you.”

Giving in to the need for her that’s more than sexual, I release her wrists on a thick groan.

Dee plants kisses between my shoulder blades, licks at the skin, all the while one hand slowly slides down my abs—a hot languid trail that stokes the fire brewing in me. I want to turn and see her face, but lucid thought is fading as I watch those long, elegant fingers close around my cock. So blatantly sexual. Yet so loving and selfless.

No other single touch has ever made me ready to come in seconds. I pulsate in her grip, a seductive hold I never want to escape from.

She slides her other hand up to tease the flat of my nipple, still jerking my shaft at the same time. I’m overloaded with sensation—the water pounding at my chest, Dee’s pillowy breasts against my back, her hands on me. Feels so fucking good.

I plant my feet wide and brace my palms against the tiles. Letting Dee take care of me, I let myself go and power into the wet clamp of her fist.

“Dee,” I rasp as the first of my climax hits. All the tension seems to loosen. It’s as if the years of matted guilt and snarled anger that had bound me to my past open up and release me. I come hard and Dee keeps stroking, whispering words of love, a soothing balm for my body and soul.

I turn to pull her into my arms and kiss her. “Thank you, beauty, for being everything I need.”

I wake with a kickof energy. I’d spent another nightmare-less sleep with Dee. I kiss my way up her body, reaching her mouth with an aroused smile. We make love under the warmth of the sheets and share a leisurely breakfast.

I tell her of my plans to donate Malcolm’s property to the city of Springvale if he takes the deal. It’s a big if. But one thing I know is that he won’t take any chance of that recording coming out.

After Dee leaves for work, I write for a while, then go for a jog. A mild breeze skips off the lake. I breathe the fresh air into my lungs. It’sonly been a few hours since Dee left but I’m already thinking about the evening ahead. We made plans to have a celebratory dinner at Arturo’s, a discreet, intimate restaurant just on the outskirts of the city. I haven’t seen Art since the last time I was there with her—the fateful night of the storm. Now we’ll go back as a couple. Solid and stronger for all we’ve gone through.

I return home and shower. I’m in the kitchen making a protein shake when the doorbell rings. I check the app on my phone. Yesterday, I installed an alarm system and cameras as a precaution. On the screen, I see Stiles. I’m not expecting him.

I open the door to his usual stony expression.

“Mr. Peters, sorry to drop in without calling,” he says, “but I have news about Joyce Franklin that I thought you’d want to hear in person.”

I still, bracing for it. I know what’s coming. The last of my secrets revealed. One that’s going to rock Victor and blow Dee’s renewed trust in me.

ChapterTwenty-Six

Dee

I have the music blaringin the car. Lizzo is wailing about feeling good as hell and I’m wailing along with her.

Last night I went to Mick naked. Baring my body to him as much as my heart. Sensing he really didn’t want to be alone, I’d worked through those negative tapes—my self-consciousness overshadowed by my bright and blinding love for him.

That doesn’t mean I’m ready to bounce out of bed in the raw just yet, but it feels like another step forward. One of many that Mick and I are continuing to take. He’d confronted his father. I was confronting my insecurities. And together we are building a relationship on a sturdy foundation of openness and trust.

I’m so proud of him. So proud of us.

I turn onto our street. Anxious to see Mick. To kiss him. Hug him. To celebrate this evening at Arturo’s. But upon finding Victor’s car parked out front, my good feelings slip.

Of course, my brother being here, unexpectedly, doesn’t have to indicate a problem. Only there’s this sudden sinking feeling in my stomach. Mick had texted me before I’d left the office to confirm that I’d be home by six. I’d assumed it was his eagerness for our date. Now I’m worried that Victor being here was the reason.

An overreaction, perhaps, but my alarm is validated when I enter the house. Thundering voices vibrate across the foyer. I drop my tote bag and hurry to the kitchen. Isabelle stands in the middle of the room between the two men with one hand on each of their heaving chests.

“What’s going on?” I shout to be heard.

The argument abruptly stops and all eyes swerve to me. Mick’s expression fills with that familiar look of guilt but it’s Victor who answers.

“He found Joyce!”

---