Secret Sanctuary Part 17

"Tell me something, Lizzie." His voice was husky against her ear. "What's a nice girl like you doing reading p.o.r.n?"

She gasped. "It's not p.o.r.n! It's literature. A cla.s.sic!"

Cullen gave a low chuckle. "I saw those dirty pictures."

"I'll have you know those ill.u.s.trations are fine works of art!"

"Right. And I read Playboy for the articles."

She realized then he was teasing her to help her relax, and she wanted to kiss him. He was so sweet and considerate, nothing like people thought him. "You read Playboy?"

"Uh, no. Just kidding." He ran his tongue around the sh.e.l.l of her ear, causing Elizabeth to s.h.i.+ver. "So tell me about that book."

She swallowed. "What do you want to know?"

"What's it about?"

"It's about...oh!" He was sliding his hand along her inner thigh, approaching dangerous territory himself. Elizabeth's stomach fluttered with nerves. With excitement. And more than a little apprehension. "It's about a young woman who travels to Victorian London to care for her maiden aunt. She has a series of...misadventures along her journey."

"Such as?" Now his hand was...and his fingers were...

Elizabeth's breath came in short, jerky little gasps. It took her a moment to answer him. "She...falls prey to...a mysterious stranger...who shares her coach...."

His lips nuzzled her neck. "What does he do to her?"

"He...kisses her."

"Like this?" He lifted his head to capture her mouth with his, coaxing open her lips, and then his tongue dipped inside, matching the rhythm of his fingers.

Elizabeth felt light-headed. On the verge of losing control. When Cullen finally broke the kiss, she whispered raggedly. "Exactly like that."

"What else does he do?" His eyes were dark slits of pa.s.sion as he gazed down at her.

"He...undresses her."

A knowing smile tilted the corners of his mouth. "Like this?" Hooking his thumbs through the straps of her nightgown, he slowly slid the silk down her arms, and lower, until Elizabeth's b.r.e.a.s.t.s were completely exposed to his gaze.

Her first instinct was to cover herself, but when she reached for the quilt, Cullen's hand closed around her wrist. He bent and kissed her again, until Elizabeth's embarra.s.sment began to melt away.

When his lips moved to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, she squeezed her eyes closed, not wanting her natural shyness and inhibitions to dim the pleasure for even a moment.

He tasted her with his lips and then his tongue, and when she arched her back, he groaned, a deep, dark, sensual sound that sent a thrill of excitement coursing through her heated veins.

That he wanted her as much as she wanted him was an erotic thrill. A boost to her fragile ego that she desperately needed at that moment.

She plowed her fingers through his hair, holding him close to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and thinking to herself, "I always wanted my first time to be with you."

He lifted his head. "What?"

She went perfectly still. Surely she hadn't said the words aloud, had she? "What, what?"

"What did you say?" He'd pulled back, resting on his knees as he gazed down at her.

"I didn't say anything."

"Yes. you did. You said you always wanted your first time to be with me."

"So?" She tried to shrug, but she was trembling too hard.

"So? This is your first time?"

He sounded almost angry. The heat of humiliation washed over her entire body. "That can't come as much of a surprise," she whispered.

He let out a breath. "Not entirely. I mean, I guess I knew. It's just...hearing it right before we were about to..."

"But it doesn't have to change anything." Elizabeth said, wis.h.i.+ng she could crawl into a hole and never come back out.

"It changes everything." Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stared straight ahead. "Look, this isn't right. Your first time shouldn't be like this. You should have candles and romance and..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "h.e.l.l, I don't know. But I know it shouldn't be like this."

"Like what?"

"The aftermath of an adrenaline rush," he said bluntly.

That was all it had been for him? Elizabeth felt her own anger bubble to the surface. "You make it sound so... sordid."

"That's how you'd feel about it later, trust me."

"How do you know how I'd feel?"

He glanced at her. "Because I know you. You're not the type for a one-night stand."

Was that what this was going to be? He might as well have shot her through the heart with a dozen arrows. The searing pain couldn't have been more intense.

He sighed. "I told you before, I'm not ready for a serious relations.h.i.+p. I'm not ready to make a commitment to anyone. I'm still young, and you're even youngera""

Elizabeth sniffed. "Sounds like an excuse to me."

His features hardened. "Don't make this any harder than it already is."

She was supposed to make this easy for him?

She glared at him.

He lifted his hand in a helpless gesture. "I'm trying to do the right thing here. I'm trying to be a man about thisa""

"A man?" Elizabeth said coolly. "I'd say you're being more of a coward."

She couldn't have said anything that would have wounded him more. A shutter closed over his features as he got up from the bed and strode to the bathroom. "Sorry you feel that way," he muttered, before the door slammed shut between them.

IDIOT, IDIOT, IDIOT, Elizabeth scolded herself as she stood wrapped in her blanket, staring out the window in Cullen's living room. Why did she always have to say the wrong thing to him? Why not just accept his rejection and go peaceably on her way? At least a few sc.r.a.ps of pride might have remained intact, but no. She'd had to force a confrontation.

She heard him come out of the bedroom, and she glanced over her shoulder. He was fully dressed, on his way out.

"I'm going back to work," he said warily. "I don't know when I'll be home."

It doesn't matter, Elizabeth thought. Because I won't be here.

Not that she didn't want to be. but she couldn't face him now.

She nodded, then turned back to the window, not knowing what else to say to him. Actually, she did know, but why were the words I'm sorry so difficult to utter? Especially when one's pride was still stinging the way hers was.

She sensed Cullen's hesitation, as if he wanted to say something, too, but after a moment, she heard the door open and then close softly behind him.

So that was that, she thought, willing away the tears that stung behind her lids. Cullen Ryan had been an impossible fantasy, and maybe it was better she face that reality now and move on.

She was young. She had her whole life ahead of her. It was foolish to think that only one man could be her destiny.

"Destiny sucks," she muttered, wiping the back of her hand across the wetness on her face.

CULLEN PAUSED outside his apartment door, thinking maybe he should go back in and talk to her again, try to explain his reasoning, but knowing him. he'd just make things worse.

And besides, he really didn't think he could face the wounded look in her eyes that tore at his resolve. If he went back inside, he just might end up taking her to bed again, and this time, he wasn't certain he'd have the willpower to pull back.

For once in his life, he'd done the n.o.ble thing. He might not be the right kind of man for Elizabeth, but he was man enough not to take advantage of her when she was frightened and vulnerable. At least he could live with himself.

But he was afraid Elizabeth still didn't get it. Why they couldn't be together.

All she had to do was take a look around her, he thought grimly, glancing at the shabby facade of his apartment building. The cottage where she lived wasn't fancy, either, and he doubted she earned a huge salary from Heathrow College. But she lived within her means because she chose to. Cullen lived within his means because he had to. There was a big difference.

And supposing they did get together? For how long would she want someone like him accompanying her to fancy masquerade b.a.l.l.s and stuffy gatherings at the college? How long before he became an embarra.s.sment to her?

Cullen had his pride, if he didn't have much else, and he'd almost given that up in Boston. He'd gotten in with a bad crowd, and for a while, he was on the same downhill slide to the gutter as his old man. But somehow he'd picked himself up, shaken off the dirt, and turned his life around. Trying to live in Elizabeth's world just might send him straight back to that gutter.

With new resolve, he strode down the steps and headed out into his world, where a killer still roamed the streets.

Chapter Fourteen.

If Cullen had avoided Elizabeth after their first kiss, he'd treated her as if she had the plague since that morning in his apartment. Weeks went by during which Elizabeth barely heard from him. and only then if there was some new information about the case to impart.

She tried to tell herself it was still possible he'd change his mind. He'd come around in time. And in the meantime, she still had the murder cases, as well as her cla.s.ses, to keep her busy. She'd requested a copy of Morgan Hurley's autopsy report from Cullen to compare with Bethany Peters's, hoping that something would stand out to give them a clue. But other than the fact that the victims had shared the same blood type, she'd seen no similarities.

She had no doubt both girls had been killed by the same perpetrator. The incisions in their throats and the needle marks on their inner arms were almost identical. The fact that they'd both been students at Heathrow led Elizabeth to conclude that the school had to be the connection, although as far as she was able to determine, they hadn't even known each other. Bethany was a science major, and Morgan had been pursuing an arts degree. They didn't have the same cla.s.ses, the same friends, nor did they live in the same dorm. Bethany was from Boston; Morgan was from a little town in upstate New York. Both were from privileged backgrounds, but so were most of the girls who attended Heathrow, except for a handful of scholars.h.i.+p students.

If the school was the connection, then that brought Elizabeth back to Paul Fortier. Bethany had been his student, but Morgan hadn't. Still, he could have seen her around campus, become attracted to her. Like Bethany, she was a very pretty girl, and Fortier seemed to have a penchant for beautiful women.

What is it they say? There is nothing quite so beautiful or poetic as a dead or dying woman.

There was another possibility, one that made Elizabeth shudder with dread. What if she. herself, was the connection? What if Cullen was right? What if the killer was trying to lure her into his sick game? What if he was taunting her with the bodies of students he'd chosen at random? What if the killings were about her and not the victims?

Elizabeth pulled her sweater tightly around her as she sat at her desk in her office. Tomorrow was Good Friday. The school was closed until the following Tuesday for the Easter holidays. The campus would be deserted as it had been on spring break. If the killer was going to strike again, she had a feeling it would be this weekend.

Since Morgan Hurley's body had been found, the school had hired additional security, but Elizabeth still didn't feel safe. She'd booked a room at the Moriah's Landing Inn for the weekend, and as she watched the exodus of students from the campus, she had a sudden urge to join them. She had no more cla.s.ses for the day. What was keeping her there?

"Whoa, where's the fire?"

She'd vaulted from her office so quickly, she hadn't noticed that someone was standing in the hallway, just outside her door. Her heart started to pound before she recognized him. "Lucian! You startled me." She gave a shaky laugh.

"Sorry. It seems everyone around here is on edge these days."

"With good reason."

He glanced at her purse and briefcase. "Am I keeping you?"

"Actually, I was leaving for the day. I guess I'm anxious to start my holiday."

"Going somewhere special?"

She started to answer and then thought better of it. Maybe it would be best if she kept her plans to herself. "No, not really. I just want to relax a little."

"Well, you deserve it. You've had a harrowing semester, beginning that night at the Pierces' masquerade ball." His gaze deepened. "I can't help wondering if your discovery of both bodies is more than a coincidence, Elizabeth."

"How do you mean?"

A shadow moved in his eyes. "Just promise me you'll be careful."

"I will," but his warning lingered in her head even after she'd picked up her suitcase from her cottage and headed toward downtown. It was terrifying to think that she might somehow be the trigger for a madman's bloodl.u.s.t.

Elizabeth wished desperately that she and Kat and Brie had remained close, so that she would have someone she could talk to about the murders, about her fears. But mostly she wished she had someone to confide in about Cullen.

Honestly, what was the matter with him anyway? He kept saying he wasn't the right man for her. but he was. He was! He thought she needed someone her intellectual equal, but he was the most interesting person she knew. And besides, just look at her parents. They were both brilliant, the perfect match, and they'd let their work consume them. They hardly spoke to each other these days, and Elizabeth suspected they no longer even shared the same bed. Did Cullen think she wanted that?

Or was he afraid he'd be like his mother, run out on his family when the going got tough? Or like his father, who'd turned to the bottle when he couldn't handle real life? Cullen was their son, but he was nothing like them. He wasn't going to become them any more than Elizabeth would turn out like her parents. It was true he'd flirted with the darker side of life before he'd left town, and she suspected in Boston as well, but he'd turned his life around, with no help from anyone. Look at the kind of man he was today. Good. Decent. Honorable.

Honorable to a fault, she thought dryly.

She drove past the turnoff to the inn and headed for the waterfront instead. She wondered what Cullen would do if she showed up unexpectedly at his apartment, but she was too much of a coward to find out. And the irony of that was not lost on her.

Instead, she parked on the street and walked slowly down Waterfront Avenue, past the tattoo parlor, the strip joints and Madame Fleury's, a fortune teller.

When she got to the end, she turned around and walked back.