Love Can Be Murder

some experience with this kind of thing...with prison.
    "Hello."
    Penny looked up to see B.J. standing in front of the door leading up to her apartment. Her heart jerked crazily—just the sight of him made her feel better in the wake of what she faced. At least he had tried to help her...had given her some very good memories.
    "Hello, yourself. Have you been waiting long? I took my time walking home, it's such a nice night."
    "I've been here a while," he said, his voice thick. "Thinking."
    Something had changed, something for the worse. Her chest tightened with apprehension. "Do you want to come up and talk?"
    "I think I should."
    They walked up the stairs and into the apartment, the mood solemn. Penny took off her coat and sat on the couch. "What?"
    B.J. bit into his lip, his eyes intense. "You didn't grow up in Kingsville, Tennessee."
    She looked at her hands and sighed. "No, I didn't. And I didn't grow up in Kingston or in Kingford."
    "And your last name isn't really Francisco."
    "No...it's plain old Frank. Penny Frank. I had it changed when I was sixteen."
    "The year your mother went to prison."
    She nodded again, the pain and shame welling up in her chest. "That's right."
    "Nobody around here knows?"
    "No...not even Deke knew." She gave B.J. a little smile. "I told him and everyone else that my parents were dead, which was half true."
    "Your mother is in prison—"
    "For murdering my father," she finished. "Yep. And my two older brothers are in prison—drugs, armed robbery." A little laugh escaped her. "I'm from rotten stock."
    "Don't say that," he murmured.
    "It's true. See—you already think differently of me. Imagine what will happen when the police and the D.A. and everyone in town finds out." She stood and walked to the window and stared out over the crowd, which seemed more subdued tonight...or maybe it was just her. "This information will be the nail in my coffin for the prosecution."
    He came over to stand next to her. "No one can hold you responsible for the things your family did."
    "I know, but it will make a difference." She shook her head. "I feel as if somehow I've brought this on myself."
    He frowned. "How?"
    "By lying, by trying to block out that part of my life. By denying my mother's very existence." Her chest ached with misery. She choked, and he pulled her into his arms, kissing her so gently that tears squeezed out of her eyes.
    "Make love to me," she whispered. "Tonight I want to forget everything."
    He undressed her slowly, kissing every inch of skin as he exposed it to the air. When she was nude, he kneaded and suckled her breasts until the tips were rigid and singing with pleasure. Then he knelt and kissed her flat stomach down to her thighs until she quivered for more. He thrust his tongue into her folds, flicking at the jewel of her essence until she pleaded with him to end her suffering and make love to her. "I want you inside me," she murmured.
    He flung off his clothes in record time. She tried to memorize the lines and the textures of his lean, muscular body and his rigid sex, shiny with his desire for her. He pulled her to the couch, straddling his lap. She lowered herself onto his shaft slowly, then took him fully in one final motion. Their moans mingled. She adjusted to his fullness, then began to ride him slowly. He put one hand on her hips to guide her, and with the other, he stroked her, kissing and licking her breasts. Her body was one long nerve ending—every breath, every nip, every caress intensified. He seemed to know intuitively where and how she wanted to be touched. She fell against his chest in a powerful climax, clenching her feminine muscles to maximize the pleasure for both of them. His breath rasped out, and he ground her down on him, uttering his own guttural groan of release.
    She sighed against his neck, feeling gratitude...and love. It was false love, she knew—infatuation. But she clung to it like the desperate woman she was.
    As if he sensed her urgency and her fear, he made love to her twice more before dawn, each time more emotionally and physically gratifying for her than the last. She had never enjoyed this kind of physical connection with Deke, nor with any other man. They didn't even have to talk to communicate what they wanted. She thought about his mouth on her breast, and it was already there. It was a magical night, with no voodoo in sight.
    It was only after she stepped out of the shower the next morning that she remembered to ask about the