But I ignore him, drawing his cock into my mouth and fighting a laugh as he groans, "Oh, fuck me," before picking up the phone and managing to croak out, "Yeah, I'm here. What is it?... Actually, no. I'm hosting a party, and at this particular moment I'm having a conversation with Jane ... Very funny. Yes, we're being very civil to each other."
At that, I gently nip the tip of his cock, making him gasp. As far as Adele knows, Dallas and I still mostly avoid each other.
"Why did I need to answer the phone?" he asks. "I have guests here."
It's clear from the conversation that they know each other pretty well, better than I know her, actually. I know that Colin--my birth father--and Dallas repaired their relationship when he was in college, after the kidnapping. That was about the time Colin met and married Adele, and I know Dallas and Adele stayed friends after she and Colin divorced. Apparently, pretty good friends.
I think--though I don't know for sure--that Dallas has even talked to her a bit about the kidnapping. She's a professional therapist, and I've actually considered seeing her. But the family connection makes it too weird. Probably unethical, too. Plus, I've never really clicked with her. She's always been nice enough, but I still never felt like it would be easy to open up to her.
Right now, though, Adele is the last person I want to think about, and I wish she'd tell Dallas why she called so he can get off the phone.
"Yeah," Dallas is saying. "I made plans to have dinner with him later this week. He mentioned that he'd finished some of the remodeling on the house and ... well, of course you're welcome to join us ... Adele, do you really think--fine. Fine, I'll ask and I'll let you know. Was that it?... Okay then, I'll talk to you later. Bye." He tosses the phone aside, then twines his fingers in my hair as I run my tongue over the length of him.
"That was seriously surreal," he says.
I lift my head long enough to look at him. "Having a woman go down on you while you talk to her former stepmother? What is it you always say? How you like it fucked up?"
A shadow seems to cross his face, and I regret the joke.
"Hey," I say. "I was just being glib. You okay?"
"I'm great." He tugs my hair, urging me up to him. "Come here."
"Don't you want--"
"You. I want you."
I ease in next to him, trying to find a comfortable position on the floor. "What was so important?"
He rolls his eyes. "She wants to join me and Colin at dinner next week, but didn't want to include herself without asking. And she said I should invite you, too. Since we're being civil."
"Oh." I consider that. "Well, I guess I could come. That's the civil thing to do, right?"
He nods, but he doesn't look happy, and in the back of my head, a few little alarm bells start to tingle. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm just incredibly tired." He stands, then picks me up, cradling my naked body against his chest. His jeans are still open and hanging on his hips, and despite our relative nakedness, he heads straight for the door.
"Time for bed," he says. "And I hope to hell Liam's got Fiona out of the bedroom, because if he hasn't, they're both about to get an eyeful."
Starry, Starry Night
I wake alone and stretch out my arm to find Dallas, but find only the cool sheets instead. I sit up, groggy, and peer around the dark room, but he's not here. I frown, then remember the party.
We'd been so caught up in ourselves that we'd forgotten about the soiree going on downstairs. Maybe he couldn't sleep. Maybe he went down to say goodbye to the last of the guests.
It's a possibility, but when I go to the balcony and look down at the pool area, I see that all the lights are off, and there's no sign of lingering guests. My first thought is to ring for Archie, but then I remember he's gone. And, anyway, it's four in the morning and even if he were here, I wouldn't want to wake him. Besides, Dallas is only missing from our bed, not from the world. It's his house, and a big one. He must be around here somewhere.
I know that he fell asleep, because he drifted off before I did, and I'd laid in his arms for at least fifteen minutes, comforted by the sound of his steady breathing, before I'd finally succumbed to sleep as well. But he'd obviously awakened at some time during the night. And when he couldn't fall back asleep, he probably went to another room to read or watch television so as not to wake me.
I think about going back to sleep--he's certainly entitled to privacy--but it has been a strange night for both of us. I tell myself that I need to check on him, but as I pull on one of his T-shirts and head for the door, I know that's a lie. My motives are selfish; I need to find Dallas for me.
He's not in his study or in the den. I check the kitchen next--empty--then continue on to the basement room that Deliverance uses as an operations center. I have the code to enter, but when I do, I see that it is empty as well.
I lock it back up, lean against the closed door, and wonder where to look next.
I check the garage, because maybe he decided to go out, but his cars are all parked in their slots, and his motorcycle is, too, so he didn't go joyriding down Meadow Lane in the middle of the night.
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