“If you put it that way …”
Deborah shed her uniform, its starch long since wilted and some unpleasantly red stains marring the white cloth after a day at the hospital, and Longarm hastened to shuck out of his clothes.
My, but this one was all woman. Proud of it too. There was no false modesty about her. She knew she looked good, and she made no attempt to hide herself from the admiration that was her proper due … and which he was pleased to give to her.
Her tits were big, but they barely sagged. Eventually they would, he supposed, but that time was still some years away. She had large, pale nipples and a dense thatch of reddish-blond hair at her crotch. Her belly was flat and her thighs smooth and pretty despite the heavy muscling that lay barely seen beneath the surface of her unblemished skin. She had delicate ankles and feet that seemed too small to carry her.
All in all, Longarm thought, she presented one dandy figure.
“Do you like?” she challenged, turning and preening and showing off for his pleasure.
“Plenty,” he admitted.
“You’re just buttering me up, aren’t you?”
“You want to use butter tonight?” he asked with a grin. “If that’s what you want …”
Deborah laughed, then stepped into the tub. She settled breast-deep into the hot water and closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again and said, “You can scrub my back if you really want to.”
“It’d be a pleasure, ma’am.”
“Oh, my. How formal.”
“Whatever the lady wishes,” Longarm said, trying to sound detached and proper about it.
He fetched a dish of soap off the counter near the sink and scooped a couple of fingers of it into his palm, then stepped over behind Deborah and began washing her. He washed her back. And continued on around to the front. Her breasts were full and heavy, slick and slippery with the combination of water and soap. He gently lathered them, giving special attention to her nipples, which by now were as hard and erect as Longarm’s stiff pecker.
“I thought I said something about washing my back,” Deborah declared.
“I can quit if you’d like.”
“Don’t you dare.”
He continued washing her, and Deborah closed her eyes and gave herself over to the sensations.
“Stand up,” he said. “I can’t wash what’s underwater, y’know.”
She nodded, and he took her hand to steady her as she stood in the tub. Lordy, but she was gorgeous standing there all wet, her skin gleaming in the lamplight. She looked like a Grecian statue. But prettier.
Longarm took his time. Genuinely washing her, true, but also damn well enjoying the feel of her body under his hands. He washed everything in reach. And reached everything possible.
“My goodness. That feels nice.”
“Better’n when you do it your own self?” he teased.
“Mmm. Better. Oh, do that again, Custis. Yes, there. I don’t think I’ve ever … oh!” She jumped a little, rising onto tiptoes as his wet, soapy fingers probed between the nicely round cheeks of Deborah’s ass.
“Careful. We wouldn’t want you fallin’ down and breaking something. Not yet.”
“I take that to mean it would be all right if I were to break something later?”
“Let’s just say that if you’re gonna do something like that, let’s at least get the timing right. I happen to be so horny right now I could honk.”
She laughed, and Longarm gave her his best imitation of a goose’s honk by way of demonstration, causing her to laugh all the louder.
“All right, Custis. Let me rinse off now. Then it’s your turn.”
“You really think we can both of us fit into that little thing?”
“Trust me,” she repeated with a knowing smile.
And damned if she wasn’t right about that. They did fit. Of course, in order to accomplish that feat, selected parts of his anatomy had to be tucked inside certain portions of hers. Just to keep them out of the way, so to speak, so that things didn’t get bent or broken.
It was a sacrifice, but what the hell. He made it, accepting the necessity with manly fortitude.
This was, he decided afterward, without question the most enjoyable bath he could remember taking in just ever so long.
Chapter 23
Longarm was content. Drained and worn down to a limp and aching nub, but content despite that. There was a hollow void down where his balls used to be—were they still there? he wasn’t sure—and a sense of lassitude that kept tugging him deeper and deeper into the soft clouds of sleep. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he could hear himself snore just a bit every now and then.
Deborah stirred at his side. They had adjourned to her bedroom a couple of hours earlier, leaving the tub where it was. She’d said she would empty and clean it in the morning, that at the moment there were more interesting things to do.
And he’d had to agree with that assessment. Indeed there had been.
Now he was drowsy and content, the weight of her tight against his side and her breath warm and moist on the side of his throat. He liked having her there. Liked everything about her. Was glad he’d had the good sense to come there tonight.
“Are you awake, Custis?” she whispered.
“Mmm.”
“It’s all right, you know. You don’t have to pretend with me.”
“Pretend what?”
“About … you know. The killings.”
He sighed and considered opening his eyes, then thought better of it. He kind of wished Deborah would shut up now. He was sleepy. But he didn’t want to offend her. He just wished he knew what the hell she was talking about.
“Killings?”
“You know. The bomb.”
“Oh, yeah. That.”
“It’s just that you don’t have to pretend when we’re alone, Custis. Really. I already know.”
“Know? Know what, honey?”
“About the marshal. Your boss.”
“Mmm.” Billy. God, he missed Billy Vail. There never was a better boss than him.
“I know you have to keep up appearances when you’re in public, Custis, but I already know. I mean, I’m not supposed to know. I don’t think any of the other nurses do. But I met the marshal once. Do you remember? We were having dinner and the marshal and his wife came in. You introduced them to me that evening. Do you recall?”
He didn’t, but he supposed that did not matter now. He just wished Deborah would let him sleep. Then come morning he would meet Henry and get back to the business of finding out who the son of a bitch was that had murdered Billy.
And the others too, of course. He didn’t mean that their deaths weren’t just as important. But it was Billy’s murder that hurt the worst, the one he and the rest of the boys wanted so bad to avenge.
“Is that why you haven’t visited, Custis? Is it because you were afraid I would put two and two together and say something? I wouldn’t. Honestly. You can trust me.” He remembered her saying something about trusting her before, and she’d sure been right about that. The two of them fit into that tub just nice as nice could be. She …
“Visit who, honey? You? I already told you. I woulda been by to see you but I was down south in the mountains. Had to talk to some Indians, see if one of them might’ve made that bomb and thrown it.”
“Not me, Custis. The marshal.”
“What about the marshal?” he mumbled, his mind unfocused as he rode on the thin edge that divided sleep from wakefulness.
“Is that why you haven’t been to see him? You don’t have to worry, dear. I won’t give it away.”
“See who, dammit?”
“Custis! Are you paying attention to me at all? I said is that why you haven’t been by to visit with Marshal Vail?”
Longarm felt a jolt go through him as sharp and piercing as a bolt of lightning.
He jerked upright, startling Deborah and sending her tumbling half off the narrow bed that really was intended for one person to sleep in.