Man of Her Dreams by Debra Webb (best smutty novels txt) 📗

“Whether they find him or not doesn’t matter.” He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “He can’t touch you now.”

DARBY PRESSED her forehead against the cool tile and allowed the hot water to pummel her flesh for a long time after she’d cleansed the river water and swamp mud from her body. She was so cold. Even the blanket or Aidan’s closeness on the journey home couldn’t ease the chill that came from within.

She didn’t have to wait for official confirmation of what she’d found. She knew the remains belonged to the missing children. Victims of that monster Jerry Lester. She scrubbed the water from her face and tried to understand the vibes she’d picked up those last few hours in the swamp.

He’d been there, she’d felt him. Sensed his sick presence all around her. At first, she’d thought it was only because of the…remains. That maybe she was picking up on his presence as connected to when he’d buried them there. But that wasn’t the case. He’d been in that swamp somewhere, not so far away, watching.

He wanted to see. Wanted to observe her discovering his buried treasure. He’d kept them to himself all this time; now he wanted the world to know that he had spoken the truth. Not that he’d had a lot of choice. The police were on to him. He couldn’t protect his secrets any longer. Apparently some had doubted his claims regarding other work. They had thought it was a mere ploy to escape the death penalty.

But he hadn’t lied and he wouldn’t escape.

He was going to die…slowly…painfully. She couldn’t see more than that, couldn’t see that, really. She felt it, though—felt it with complete certainty. Aidan knew, too, somehow.

Every time she thought she understood a little something about Aidan, he went and threw her off balance again. She’d gotten used to the way he seemed to be able to read her thoughts. Then he’d started to sense other things at the same time she did.

Too bizarre.

An image of men in white coats flashed through her mind. They had been in that swamp, too. Maybe not the guys in the white coats, but men they had sent to find her.

What did they want?

As soon as she got past one threat, something else popped up. What was with this sudden let’s-get-Darby trend?

She shut off the water and stood there, unmoving for a long moment. No. That wasn’t true. The men in the white coats had always loomed over her life. They just hadn’t known she was here until now.

She’d played quiet mouse all these years and stayed safe. Now, in the course of a few days, she’d been exposed to the danger that had always been there deep in the shadows of a past she couldn’t remember.

As foolish as she knew it was, a part of her felt as if Aidan understood. He knew, maybe simply sensed, that there was more for her to worry about than Jerry Lester.

Not once in her life had she felt as connected to another human being as she did to Aidan. It went way beyond the physical…beyond mere attraction.

She thought of that hollow feeling that had always haunted her. As if some part of herself was missing. She’d wondered if perhaps she’d been a twin and her sibling had been lost early on in pregnancy. She’d read about it. One in eight pregnancies started out as twins, she remembered.

But this connection she and Aidan shared, although every bit as intense, was not the brotherly-sisterly kind. This was the man-woman kind. The me-Tarzan-you-Jane kind.

Her life was a wreck.

She was supposed to start her new job today and look at her. She pulled the towel from its bar and swabbed her body dry.

Two police officers were stationed in her courtyard, one near the elevator on this very floor. She knew Willis hoped Lester would come after her, especially considering she’d tipped his hand and led the police to his one ace in the hole. But he hadn’t minded that she’d done that. He’d enjoyed the show. Reveled in the attention to his work.

Willis needn’t worry.

Jerry Lester was never leaving that swamp.

She had no explanation for her conclusion, only that she felt it with utter certainty.

After she’d dried her hair and slathered on some lotion, she pulled on her terry cloth robe. It felt good. She glanced at her lucky sweater lying on the foot of the bed. Why on earth had she bothered digging out that old thing? She’d worn it at home all the time during her high school years. When she studied…when she worried…most of the time, she admitted. She’d even taken it to college with her. But after her parents’ death, she’d had no use for it.

Luck had failed her.

Maybe all the painful things she’d experienced lately had subconsciously made her long for the old ratty garment. She picked it up and smelled the fabric. It smelled like home…like her room…like the past. Maybe some part of her had just felt compelled to reach out for comforting mementos of the past.

She should go home more often. The time she and Aidan had spent looking through old family photo albums had soothed her, made her feel connected to her parents once more. She’d needed that.

As she brushed her long hair she thought of something else she desperately needed right now.

Him.

She had no intention of pretending anymore. The memory of him holding her beneath that water…giving her his last breath. If those men had found them, would they even be alive right now?

Not for another moment was she going to sit on the sidelines and wait for life to happen to her. She was going to make it happen. If she could mentally track a serial killer, she could damn sure have an intimate relationship with a man she was fiercely attracted to.

When she moved into the living room it was semi-dark. The curtains drawn tight, allowing only a narrow shaft of light