by Freya Barker
“I’ve never exactly been a choir boy,” I start, trying to get her to look at me. “But I’ve also never been a cheat, Red.” Her eyes narrow on mine before they slide off into the distance again. “Luna is a friend. More of a sister, actually. When I said she and I have a history, I meant I met her back in college. When I was in my final year and she was a freshman, we bumped into each other at a party. I hadn’t seen her in about eighteen years when she surfaced here in Durango, and despite the fact she’s a kick-ass FBI agent now, and not a timid first-year student, I feel protective of her.” From the look on her face I can tell she remains dubious, but that’s as much detail as I’m able to give her. She’ll have to trust me. “You’ll meet her soon enough,” I add. “Her office is helping out with the investigation. We often pool resources on serious cases.”
Autumn looks about as eager at the prospect as she might if facing a root canal. Next thing I know, she tosses me a big, fake-ass smile. “Look, I appreciate the explanation, but you really didn’t need to. Not like we’re in a serious relationship or anything.” I almost feel the walls coming up as she tries to bluff her way out.
“I call bullshit.” She seems shocked at my calling her out. “What’s happening here may not constitute a serious relationship yet, but I, for one, hope that’s the direction we’re moving in.” I lean forward, into her space. “And don’t try to deny you don’t feel the same: you’re the one who took off twice while I was on the phone with her, and all but froze when I mentioned her name just now.” I reach out and hook my hand behind her neck, pulling her close enough so our noses almost touch. “Any feelings I have for her are purely platonic.”
She twists from my hold and gets to her feet. “Right. Again, good talk, but not necessary. I’m going to check on my laundry.” With that she disappears down the hall, and I throw myself back on the couch, running a frustrated hand through my hair. Figures, she wouldn’t be easy to convince.
Guess this is what they call karma: after a lifetime of avoiding relationships, falling for the one woman who does some serious dodging of her own.
Autumn
Just a friend.
I almost snort out loud. Last time I heard those words, my father was comforting Mom in the kitchen, after coming home in the early hours of the morning again. He claimed—like I’d heard him do a few times before—he was helping a friend, who happened to be a woman living just down the block. I’d seen her before at church, sitting just a few pews ahead of us. She was pretty, and I’d catch her tossing little smiles over her shoulder at my father. He told my mother it was the Christian thing to do, helping a neighbor in need, and Mom swallowed it down like she had every other time. He managed her well.
I didn’t understand at the time what that ‘need’ exactly entailed, but I learned quickly when my father up and disappeared one night and never returned. The woman down the street disappeared right along with him, and I was left with a broken-hearted alcoholic, who had no one but her much too young daughter to listen to her woes.
Maybe that’s why I ended up marrying a man who could barely order his own dinner at a restaurant without my input. His passive nature seemed like a safe option at the time.
Keith is not like that. At all.
He seems to know his own mind pretty well. He also leaves room for me to know my own. Most of the time anyway. To be honest, he’s not really given me any indication I’m being manipulated. It’s just my own ingrained lack of trust, which has me automatically disbelieve what could be a very valid explanation. My need for self-protection is so strong I’d rather risk being wrong than being hurt.
For all my external bluster, pretending to be all adult; I’m still that fucked-up, insecure adolescent inside.
Folding the last of my shirts, I take the stack of clean laundry into the spare bedroom, closing the door behind me. The small built-in closet is mostly empty—aside from some old sports paraphernalia—and I easily fit my things on the shelves. I quickly replace the scrubs I’d been forced to put on again after having my shower, with a pair of yoga pants and a shirt. Both are blissfully free of any lingering smoke smell, and for the first time in days, I’m feeling a little more like myself, albeit dead on my feet.
Stepping out of the bedroom, I hear voices and to my surprise, Jack—my tabby—comes sauntering into the hallway, as if he’s lived here for donkey’s years. Still, when I scoop him up, he curls right into me, breaking into a satisfied purr right away.
“Hey, buddy. How’d you get here? Is your sister here too? Where’s Gizmo? She hiding somewhere? I bet she is, always a bit of a chicken, right, big boy?”
I’m rambling senselessly—as I often do to my cats—when I walk into the living room, where both Keith and Detective Ramirez gawk at me with amused grins. Whatever. I talk to my cats, I’m not gonna apologize for it.
“Thank you so much.” I reach out a hand to the detective.
“Most welcome. The little girl scooted down the other hallway,” he says, pointing toward Keith’s bedroom.
“She’s shy,” I tell him by way of explanation.
“Wasn’t so shy this morning when I woke up with her ass in my face,” he says with a wink. “I picked up a couple of things for them over the weekend, I’ll just go grab those from the car. You’ll need them.” He’s back quickly, carrying a couple of large Walmart bags. “Here’s their food, litter box, a couple of toys, and some bowls,” he says, handing Keith one of the bags, before shoving the other one at me. “And this is the shit your boyfriend told me to pick you up. Hope it’s the right stuff.”
I take a peek inside, and the first thing I spot lying on top is a bulk pack of double-A batteries. Feeling a blush creep up, I mumble, “I’ll just put this stuff away. Thank you so much.” But before I can make my escape, Tony’s voice holds me back.
“Oh, almost forgot about this.” He pulls my purse from his shoulder and hands it to me, a little the worse for wear, but a welcome sight nonetheless. “I salvaged it from the house after the fire inspector went through. I wiped the outside, but restrained myself and didn’t peek inside.” I smile at his teasing, dropping the Walmart bag on the table so I have both my hands free.
“You rock,” I tell him, digging through the contents to find my handy metal card case. It holds all my important cards: driver’s license, bank and credit cards, and especially the various insurance cards. Those will save me a lot of grief. I triumphantly pull it out and flip it open, showing Keith what’s inside.
“That’ll help.” He nods with only half of a smile, before turning to Tony. “Did you get the other stuff?”
“It’s all in there.” He points at the bag I dumped on the table and Keith immediately starts rummaging through it, surfacing with a familiar white Apple box. “You should be able to call your provider and have them transfer your account over right away.”
“Thank you.”
I give first Tony a quick hug, who smiles smugly at a scowling Keith, and holds on a little too long. The scowl disappears when I step into his arms and slide mine around his waist, tucking my head under his chin. I don’t move, not even when Tony bids his goodbyes, citing, “Shit to do,” before he walks out the door.
Keith’s large hand in the middle of my back slides up under my hair and curves around my neck. “You okay?” I feel the reverberation of his deep rumble in his chest.
“I will be. I’ll be even better if Boots and Ziggy show up.”
“When,” he corrects me. “When they show up. They’re probably still freaked out and hiding, but they’ll be scrounging for food soon, I’m sure.”
“That reminds me.” I try to step back, but Keith holds me firmly in place. “I should check on Gizmo. Feed them”
“You can check on Gizmo after you kiss me,” he says, already lowering his head. “I’ve been starving for days.”
His kiss is hungry but not rough. Fingers twisted in my hair, his tongue strokes firmly, turning my mind a delicious blank—with every fiber completely focused
on the sensation of his body surrounding me—consuming me.
When I feel my feet are no longer touching the floor, he lifts his head, looking at me from under his heavy brow.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of your taste.” Not sure what to say to that, I smile instead. “Go,” he urges, releasing me suddenly. “Check on your critters before I forget you were just released from the hospital.”
That night, after a simple dinner of sandwiches and soup Keith threw together while I was having a nap, I’m working on my to-do list. Both cats are curled up on the couch beside me, when I notice Keith talking on the phone in his office.
“I’ll swing by to pick them up,” I hear him say, followed by an already familiar creak of his office chair, and then footsteps coming down the hall.
I tilt my head back when he leans over the couch, his hair hanging down like a curtain tickling my chin as he bends to brush my lips.
“I have to head into the office for a bit. A few reports came in, and I want to look them over before tomorrow,” he explains, and a feeling of panic claws up my throat.
“Can’t someone bring them?” My voice sounds a little too high-pitched.
“You’re safe here, Red. I swear. Very few people know where I live, and I’d like to keep it that way—especially now—which is why I’m going to pick them up. Tony would, but he’s already home and I don’t want ask him again. Look,” he says, coming around the couch and perching on the coffee table in front of me.
Already I’m feeling stupid, but even more so at seeing the guilty look on Keith’s face. Seriously, for a woman so proudly independent, I’m acting ridiculously needy.
“It’s fine. Never mind me,” I wave him off, embarrassed, but he continues anyway.
“There are twelve cameras in total, covering the front of the house, the driveway and the back. There is a floodlight at the base of the driveway on a motion sensor, and two more—”
“Keith,” I stop him, my hand to his mouth. “It’s fine, really. I’m just a little skittish. Ignore me. My phone is all set up, if there’s anything, I can always call. Please, just go, I feel bad enough keeping you from your work.”
“Fair enough,” he concedes, kissing my fingers before he gets up. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour. Want me to pick you up anything from town?”
“I’m fine, thanks, but, Keith? Do you think I could pick up my car tomorrow?”
“Sure thing,” he promises, “lock the door behind me, will you?”
I lock the door, grab the remote, snuggle with my guys on the couch, and find something mindless to watch on TV.
I must’ve been exhausted, because it doesn’t take long for me to drift off. I don’t even notice when some time later, Keith’s strong arms pick me up from the couch, carry me into his bedroom, and tuck me into bed.
Chapter 20
Keith
“Meow…”
I blink my eyes open to find one the cats—I think her name was Gizmo—sitting on my chest, staring at me intently.
“Meow.”
Autumn snuggles into my side, muttering something unintelligible.
Early morning light streams in the doors to the deck, and a peek at my clock lets me know it’s probably time to get up. Not that I want to get out of bed.
When I got back last night, I found Red curled up on the couch with her cats, fast asleep. I was well aware she’d put her stuff in the spare bedroom, which is all hers to use, but there wasn’t really a question when I picked her up that I would carry her to my bed. Of course the cats followed her there, and by the time I put my work aside and headed to bed myself, I had to battle two territorial cats to claim a spot next to her.
And one of them is currently sharpening its nails on my chest, determined to get someone’s attention.
“All right,” I whisper, snatching the thing up as I roll out of bed, trying not to wake Autumn. Tucking Gizmo under my arm, I pad down the hall to the kitchen, where cat number two, Jack, is sitting patiently by the food bowls. “Not sure how much you guys eat,” I mumble as I set the girl down and grab the kibble from the cupboard. Both cats make it impossible to move, weaving between my legs, rubbing their bodies against me. “Guys, I’m gonna step on you if you don’t knock that off. Do you wanna eat or not?”
“Meow…” This from a very impatient Gizmo. Jack is quiet, appearing to me more the strong silent type, but the moment I put the bowls down, both cats attack like they haven’t been fed in weeks.
“Jesus, you guys almost took my fingers off.”
“They’re passionate about their food.”
My head shoots up to find Autumn leaning against the doorway—no glasses, wearing just the shirt she’d been wearing yesterday, minus the pants I pulled off her before tucking her in—a grin on her face.
“Shit, I thought I was being quiet. Hoped to let you sleep a bit longer.”
“And miss you bonding with my cats?” Her teasing smile has me stalk up and pull her in my arms.
“Are you making fun of me?” I rumble, reveling in the feel of her body against my now fully awake one.
“I wouldn’t dare. Besides, you were pretty adorable.” I respond with a growl as I walk her backward down the hall and into the bedroom. “What are you doing?” she asks, but the gleam in her eyes as she blinks up tells me she knows.
“I was going to make coffee.” I back her up all the way to the edge of the bed and topple her onto the mattress, landing on top of her. “But I think I’ll make you come first.”
“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” she mumbles when my eyes zoom in on her sleep-swollen lips.
“I don’t care.”
“You haven’t brushed yours,” she tries again when I lean in.
“You don’t care either.”
She doesn’t. The moment my mouth touches hers; she parts her lips and invites me in.
Kissing Autumn is better than any sexual experience I can recall. She gives all of herself in the way she eagerly responds to my touch, and in that moment, makes me feel like the center of her universe. The way her nails scrape my scalp when she tangles her fingers in my hair has every receptor sparking an electrical charge I can feel under my skin. The arch of her body as it looks for contact, has my blood roaring through my veins and flooding my cock.
A rush of emotions scrambles my brain. Hungry. Raw. Primal.
In an unorganized tangle of hands and limbs, the few scant pieces of fabric separating us are discarded. Skin to skin. Her legs restlessly rub along mine, as my hips almost involuntary buck, needing inside her. In an attempt to slow down the frantic pace, I break the kiss and trail lips and tongue along her jaw, down her neck, and over her chest. One hand lifts a breast, soft and pliable in my palm, and my mouth closes over the tight nipple, sucking deep. Her soft cry encourages me to give equal attention to the other.
Sliding off the bed to my knees, I lift her legs, bracing her feet against my shoulders as I pull her ass to the edge. Her relaxed body is spread wide open for me, showing a greater trust than I perhaps deserve.
There are no words, just sounds of two people lost to sensation.
I take my time exploring the slick, deep pink labia with my fingers, using the pad of a finger to uncover the smooth little nub from under its hood. When her hips come off the bed helplessly, I shove a hand under her ass and lift her to my mouth. With my lips and tongue working her clit, I slide a thumb inside her, rubbing hard against the back wall of her pussy. The moment I feel her fingers tighten in my hair, and the flutter of her muscles around me, I replace it with my tongue, stabbing deep as I drive her to the edge. Exploring with the slick digit, I find her small puckered hole, and penetrate the tight muscle.
Almost instantly she ignites, crying out as her thighs trap my head. She rides my mouth on her pussy and my thumb up her ass hard, until nothing but shakes and shivers remain. It’s then I notice the labored rasp of her breath.
Fuck. I’m an idiot. I’d almost forgotten.
Gr
abbing her inhaler from the nightstand, I climb back on the bed, pull her in my arms, and hold her until the hit of medication relaxes her airways.
“As much as I’d love to stay just like this, I have to go into the office. I’m going to hop in the shower.”
I swing my legs over the side, bend down to kiss her lips, and pad over to the bathroom. The sight of her, naked and languid, with her red hair spread out on my pillow when I look back at her, I almost cave. However, I have a serial arsonist, and now murderer—with a hard-on for my Red—to catch. I can’t afford to slack off. Determined, I go into the bathroom, turn on the water, and step under the shower. My cock still painfully hard, I lean a hand against the wall and with the other try to relieve some pressure.
“Shhhh,” she says, as she steps under the spray behind me. She presses her front against my back and reaches around, palming my erection. “Let me.”
Her grip is firm and her strokes are strong. It doesn’t take long before I feel my balls pull up tight and a tingle shoot from my asshole up my back. Mouth open and my head thrown back, I cover her hand with mine and in a punishing rhythm, until I find relief, long strands of cum mixing with the water and pooling down the drain.
I’m instantly cold when Autumn’s touch disappears, but she’s back right away, her hands washing me with soap. With my hands braced on the wall in front of me I let her tend to me.
“Don’t let me wake up from this dream,” I say under my breath.
Warm lips press a kiss between my shoulder blades.
“Not a dream, honey,” she murmurs, again with the endearment.
“This is too good to be anything else.”
Autumn
“Let me give you Detective Ramirez’s number. He’s in charge of the investigation and will be able to tell you when you can access the site.”