Free The Homecoming by Patricia Pellicane Page A

home was a horror. I think we hit every available pocket of turbulence.” She frowned when he didn't reply. “What are you doing?” Still there was no response. She invited, “Want to warm up? The water’s still hot.” Nothing.
    The lights in the bedroom and hallway went out. She smiled. He was waiting for her.
    She left the tub, and with a fluffy towel knotted above her breasts, padded with wet feet to her carpeted bedroom. He stood near the door. Barely a shadow, as silent as the night.
    “Jack, don’t try to scare me. You know I hate it.”
    Nothing.
    She reached for a lamp. “I thought we could have shared the bath. You usually like that.”
    “Don’t turn it on. We can share a bath later. I’m not trying to scare you. But I thought we might play a game.”
    Meg grinned, knowing what was on his mind. “Did you? What kind of game? Parcheesi? Checkers?”
    He laughed. “We left the checkers outside and the board got wet. Remember?”
    Meg chuckled. She did. They had played strip checkers. Every time either of them lost a game piece to the other, they had to hand over something they wore with it. It didn’t take long before they were both naked and seconds later, the game forgotten, they moved to one of the lounges. Thankfully, their patio was private. No one could see over the line of trailing flowers and shrubs edging it.
    “You already have all the parts needed for the game I’ve got in mind.”
    She shook her head, pretending ignorance. “Do I? I’m not sure.”
    “I’ll give you a hint. We’ve played it before, and you liked it well enough.”
    “You might need to refresh my memory. Did I tell you I liked it?”
    He chuckled. “There are times when words are superfluous.”
    “Meaning what? A game without words?”
    “Turn around,” he said as he moved toward her.
    She couldn’t hold back a soft moan of anticipation of the pleasure to come. He pressed her back against his chest and pinned her arms to her sides, pulling her firmly against his cool, damp, naked body.
    His breath teased her skin as he whispered menacingly near her ear. “Don’t make a sound.”
    She played at trying to free herself of his hold. With her arms still held, she managed a breathless, “Oh please, don’t hurt me.”
    “Do what I tell you, and no one gets hurt.”
    He drew her backward toward the bed.
    She blinked a dozen times trying to see, but the room was too dark. The door to the bath was almost closed, allowing only a sliver of light through the gap. In the mirrors lining the wall behind the bed, their shadowy reflections appeared to struggle, one taller than the other, both with dark hair, but nothing was clear. She couldn’t make out his features. There was no need. She knew well enough his scent, his touch and his low sexy Texan drawl.
    She took a deep trembling breath, caught up in her desire for his touch. “My husband will be back in a minute.”
    “He won’t be bothering us.”
    “You didn’t hurt him, did you? Tell me you didn’t hurt him.”
    “Why? You trying to tell me you love the guy?”
    “I’m not trying to tell you anything.”
    “He’s an ugly bastard. What the hell did you ever see in him?”
    The truth of the matter was, Jack was far from ugly, and he knew it. In fact he turned heads wherever he went. No need to add to his already healthy ego. She shrugged. “Looks aren’t everything.”
    Jack laughed. “You really are a brat.”
    He spun her to face him. Her arms finally free, she hit him and heard his startled gasp. He grabbed her arms and her hands were forced behind her. Her heart pounded, stifling her ability to breathe. Every time they did this, she hit him, and when she did, he became just rough enough to drive her wild. He tore the towel away and pushed her back. She fell on the bed. In a second he was upon her, trapping her beneath him.
    He was naked, his cock hard and ready, though past experience told her it would be some time yet before she’d feel the pleasure