Love Can Be Murder

organizer, toppling it with a mighty crash.
    B.J. winced and reached for the tools to right them, but Penny fled, back to the foyer, back to where she could breathe and assimilate. But everywhere she looked, she imagined evil spirits hanging in the corners, just waiting for her to let down her defenses enough to—
    "Hey."
    She screamed, then realized it was B.J. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm a little freaked out."
    "Let's go," he said quietly, "then you can explain. If the neighbors heard us, they might have already called the police."
    She nodded and followed him to the back door, where she reset the alarm and they made their escape. During the three-block walk to her apartment, they kept to the inside of the sidewalk to escape notice as much as possible. Using careful words, she explained about the smashed Hot Wheels car, the bent casket, and the crumpled fender.
    B.J. was quiet for a few seconds. "And you're telling me there's some kind of supernatural connection between the three things?"
    "Don't you think it's too much of a coincidence?"
    "Not if the alternative is believing in voodoo."
    When they approached the square, the beat of the batri drums was so loud to her she clapped her hands over her ears; the dancers so frenzied she had to look away; the stench of the smoke and animal blood so offensive her stomach roiled. She ran to her apartment door and up the steps, distantly aware that B.J. was behind her.
    Once in her apartment, she dropped onto the couch and pulled her knees up to her chest, rocking to hold back the wall of tears that pressed on the back of her eyes. She felt desperate.
    "Hey, it's going to be okay," B.J. soothed, sitting next to her and drawing her into his arms.
    "I think I'm losing my mind," she whispered, reveling in the warmth of his skin, the comfort of his body. "There's no such thing as voodoo, I know that."
    "Someone is trying to scare you," he said, stroking her back.
    "Someone is trying to make me look crazy. So no one will believe me."
    "I believe you," he said earnestly, then lifted her chin with his fingers. She looked into his eyes and clenched her jaw against the feelings that swelled in her chest. Falling in love with someone so quickly, and under such duress, was as false as voodoo.
    He kissed her, gently at first, then harder when she responded, until their tongues lashed feverishly. He pulled her onto his lap and ran his thumb over the peak of her beaded breast. She closed her eyes and arched into him, clutching at his back, pulling at his clothing as desire pooled in her midsection.
    Their clothes came off slowly until a pile of black fabric lay on the floor and they were completely nude, lying mouth to mouth, sex to sex.
    "You're beautiful," he said on a breath, then lowered his head to take a rigid nipple into his mouth while caressing her other breast.
    Incredible sensations exploded in her body as his mouth traveled over her skin. His erection surged against her thigh, and she reached down to stroke the length of him. He moaned and lowered his hand to her stomach, then lower, to tease her wet folds, and she nearly came apart in his arms.
    "Easy," he whispered. "Take your time."
    He massaged the most sensitive part of her until the stabs of pleasure became swells of bliss, carrying her higher until she cried out and thrashed against his hand. At the pinnacle of her orgasm, he thrust inside her, taking her to another plane of excitement and complete stimulation. He began to move slowly, allowing her to set the pace. She opened her knees to give him full ac cess to her body, grasping his lean hips to pull him even more deeply inside. He kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth, and laved her breasts until she thought she would come from the prompting of his tongue alone.
    They found an easy, long rhythm, taking pleasure in the breadth and width of every stroke, clenching and relaxing, each glide of their bodies more pleasurable than the last. When the tremor of another orgasm rose and swept her away, she cried out his name and contracted around him. He shuddered and thrust deep, wedging their bodies together until the shared vibrations subsided.
    Penny wanted to stay in that rosy, languid place of recovery, when the body is too weak to do anything except feel, for as long as possible. But too soon, sounds from outside her window began to cut through the pleasant sexual haze, and the aroma of Benny's Beignets overrode the scent of their satisfied bodies. Gingerly,