Page 53 of Girl Anonymous

For the longest three minutes of her life, Dante held her in place, watching, waiting… “That should be enough,” he said in her ear. He twitched the hood to cover her distinctive hair and flung an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s start walking. Up the hill. To the Live Oak.”

The Live Oak Restaurant and Inn, the five-star restaurant in this one-horse town, with luxurious suites taken by celebrities who wanted privacy and mostly got it.

“Of course. The best dinner on Big Sur.” She walked, wandered, really, scrunched up against him. He stopped her every few minutes to hug her, kiss her, and always his focus was on their surroundings. These embraces held no emotion, no passion; they were merely camouflage that gave the impression of nonchalance while Dante took the time to survey the street around them.

“A lot of people are looking out windows at us,” he commented.

“It’s a village. Not much to do on a Tuesday but watch the tourists suck lips.”

“They don’t recognize you?”

“I’d say not, or there would be some catcalls.”

“Good. That’s good.” He increased their pace. “Here’s the house I rented. We can get in a little bit more of a hurry now.”

“The house? I thought you said the Live Oak…”

“We’ll go in the front door, turn on the light, cast some interesting shadows on the blinds, turn off the lights, leave. I chose this house for the side door. Ifthey’rewatching—” whoevertheywere “—they’ll probably miss that one. Rich people don’t know much about small old houses and how they’re constructed.”

“And they don’t yet realize you had this planned down to the nth degree.” She didn’t know what she thought about that. His security measures put an end to her turmoil about his primitive wedding ceremony—no, not primitive,phony—and flung her into another set of confused emotions. Worry. Anger. That niggling discomfort that she’d been constantly observed while unaware. More anger.

“Precautions are necessary for our continued good health, and in this case, elaborate precautions are in order.” He spoke in an instructive tone, like he was teaching her what she needed to know in the future.

Which led her back to the anxiety about the wedding ceremony and what he expected was going to happen with them in between what he’d already mentioned happening against the wall and, she supposed, on the bed and in the shower again and back on the bed and, if her friends were to be believed, on a trapeze while using Crisco shortening.

Meanwhile, Dante ushered her inside the tiny house, turned on the lights, lowered the blinds, made sure they were positioned correctly to cast silhouettes, and pulled her close, body to body.

He was not as focused on their safety as she thought.

Or he was really good at multitasking. Because that was a big boner he tucked against her.

In a hushed tone that sounded wickedly tempting, he said, “If the neighbors are watching anyway, we might as well give them a passion to aim for.” Bending her over his arm until she threw her arms around him to keep her balance, he kissed her in light dry brushes that both confused and enticed her. His warm breath smelled dark, like black licorice and bitter chocolate fudge. His tongue, when he slid it across the seam of her lips, made her jump. He shushed her, clutched her waist more firmly, cradled her head, and kissed her with such depraved skill she floundered under the breaking wave oftoo much: too much heat, too much craving, too much Dante.

When he began a slow retreat, she followed, trying to entice him back to her, back to the magnificent hunger between them, but he was inexorable, and when she stood erect and opened her eyes, she found she held his head between her palms. Snatching her hands away, she stepped back…and he let her. She retreated. He moved to the lamp and the click as he darkened the room sounded loud and rude.

“There,” he said softly.

There what? There, he’d fooledthem, whoevertheywere? There, he made her wet and frustrated? There, the neighbors were grabbing for their vibrators and their roommates?

He caught her hand and tugged her toward the short hallway between the living room and the bedroom. He stopped in the dark. “Here’s the bathroom if you need to use it.”

“Thanks.” She went in, didnotslam the door, flicked on the light, and peed. The man really knew how to knock the lust right out of her. She’d driven home, found the bottle first thing, and never again thought of her bladder. Until now, when he pointed it out, like a big ol’ fat nasty uncouth rude boy who should mind his own genitalia.

She came out, he went in—apparently hewasminding hisown genitalia—and she realized this pause, and the normalcy of having the bathroom light go on and off, would portray the couple in this house as doing the natural thing proceeding bedroom activity.They, if they were still out there, would move on rather than continuing to watch.

Damn it. Shewasbeginning to think like Dante, like an Arundel.

Going into the bedroom, she turned the lamp on low, tossed the covers down, and straightened the sheets, knowing her silhouette was doing its part to create the right scenario. When he appeared in the doorway, he said, “Very good.” Walking over, he turned the lamp back off and grasped her wrist. “Five minutes, and we’ll move.”

She nodded. He couldn’t see her, but she was still feeling hot and bothered and not all that cooperative.

He spoke, maybe to fill the silence, maybe so that anyone listening at the door would hear him murmuring in a slow deep, seductive voice. “I would kiss you more, for the pleasure of you in my arms, answering me, seducing me—”

She gave an incoherent grumble. Seducing him, indeed.

“But if I kissed you, I wouldn’t be able to stop. Not again.”

Her irritation eased. Maybe she wasn’t the only one helpless in this cycle of needing and wanting and mindless…lovemaking.

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