Resisting Love: Behind Blue Lines Series

by Christine Zolendz

  I ached for him in that slow, throbbing, agonizing way. I wanted him deep inside me—his weight heavy on top of me. I wanted to watch his face and for him to watch mine.

  He swept me off the chair without warning. I felt weightless and free and then my back was pressed into the bed, and his body was over mine. He was somehow naked. I didn’t even realize when he’d undone his pants. All I knew was his hot skin hovering atop mine, and the thick length of him pulsing against my inner thighs.

  Dean’s eyes looked into mine, his elbows leaning down, his fingertips tracing the edge of my face gently as if savoring its texture or shape. Shivers tingled through my body as I slowly, so very slowly, spread my legs apart and wrapped them around his waist, arching my body into his.

  He moved his hands then, putting his palms down on either side of my face, his lips floating mere inches above mine. The smooth hard tip of him rocked against me, causing my vision to blur with need. Then, his lips touched mine, soft and feathery. Barely a kiss, as he slipped deep inside me. Our kiss deepened, as we gasped, and he cursed, our movements quickening and soaring.

  He moved inside me in long deep thrusts. His hands were on every inch of my skin—his lips, his tongue devouring me. His hands slid down my body, cupping my bottom, spreading me wider. His pace became urgent, sweat beaded over our skin.

  My orgasm seemed to start somewhere deep within my heart, spreading fiery, all-consuming heat through my body. I shuddered and whimpered as it rolled in waves over me. Bursts of electricity coursed through my veins as I cried out his name. Dean bucked wildly over me, groaning, spilling himself deep inside of me.

  As we lie, sweating and panting, I found his hand in the darkness under the covers. His fingers entwined with mine, knowing I needed them, and I realized how achingly beautiful the moment was. It was one perfect moment in time to set off the beginning of whatever future we made for ourselves, as long as we had each other.

  Chapter 20

  Liv

  It was very late and darkness had swallowed the sky. Dean and I were snuggled up outside on the porch chairs. He smoked a cigar as I sipped a cup of hot chocolate to keep me warm. The house was quiet, the neighborhood still and silent, and another fresh layer of pure white snow had fallen. It still fell in thick, fat flakes, making everything smell fresh and new.

  Dean’s fingers softly trailed through my hair, playing with the long strands.

  Between being tangled up under his sheets, Dean and I researched the best places for my mother and found the perfect one. It was a beach-type rehabilitation and wellness center, and I had already paid for her to live there, full time, for the next six months. Dean said it was the best in the country, and it felt really good using my father’s money to help save my mother. And I knew, with Dean by my side, with his family who always had my back, this was where I belonged.

  My cup was empty, and my shoulders started shivering

  Reluctantly, I climbed off him. “Where are you going?” he asked, quietly.

  I showed him the inside of the empty cup and shrugged. “I’m all out of warm sugary drinks, and I’m freezing.”

  He smiled at me for a while, and shook his head slowly. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

  I smiled back as my face flushed with color.

  “Why don’t you go get undressed again and I’ll finish this up? I’ll meet you inside and get you all warmed up.”

  Like he’d have to ask me twice. I bit down on my lip and rushed in through the front door, giggling.

  Brooke was in the hallway, just coming in through her apartment door. I didn’t see her at first, only in the corner of my eye. “Hey,” I said, stopping shortly.

  She tilted her head and smiled at me over her shoulder. A pair of large sunglasses obscured her eyes. The fact that they were on her face past midnight made my blood turn cold.

  “Brooke?” I asked, cautiously taking a step closer to her. Something didn’t feel right.

  She cocked her head more to the side, so her face was hidden from me. “Oh, hey. I was just going back inside. I forgot to get the mail today. That’s why I was going out.” Her hands were empty, though. She wore her heavy coat and gloves, not a normal outfit to go out and get your mail in, especially if your mailbox was attached to your front door, which hers was.

  Was she trying to sneak out, but realized we were on the porch?

  Why was she wearing sunglasses?

  Wasn’t she with a guy before?

  I distinctly remembered hearing a man’s voice inside behind the door and thought she was maybe thanking her secret guy for all the flowers he sent her. But, she wasn’t acting right; she wasn’t even facing me.

  Maybe I was thinking through a hazy haven’t slept, because I’ve been having orgasm after orgasm with the man of my dreams brain, but I knew in my gut something felt off with her.

  She still wouldn’t face me. She didn’t even ask about Dean and me.

  Something was definitely wrong.

  “Brooke,” I said again, spinning her around. I reached out and tried to pull off the glasses that were covering her face. She cringed, jerking her head back and putting her hand up to stop me. Her arm seemed made of steel, and I squeaked out a yelp of pain when I hit into it. I guess she had to be tough doing the job she did every day. I was just surprised she was made out of metal. I shook my arm out to ease the ache.

  “I’m tired. It was a long day, and my eyes are dry,” she said. Her voice seemed normal, sweet, and calm.

  “Oh, okay,” I mumbled, backing away.

  But as soon as she thought I’d given up, she let her guard down, and I slid my hands up and was able to slide her sunglasses right off her face.

  “Shit,” she cried, reaching her hands up to cover her face.

  It wasn’t very bright in the hallway—only one bulb lit the large front foyer—but there was just enough light to see. Three things registered with me all at once. First, was that Brooke’s pupils were large, and her eyes were wide and full of tears—as if she were terrified of me. Second, there was a bright freshly laid welt across the side of her face and around her left eye, matching the one on the other side of her face. And third, her lip was split deeply in the corner—the wound still bloody.

  Brooke laughed and waved her hand, her lip bled more, dripping down her bottom lip and chin. “I got into a fight with someone who tried to resist arrest. Perks of the job.”

  And that’s the last thing that registered with me. I knew she was lying. I knew she was, because earlier that morning, she told me she had taken off that day.

  What the hell was going on?

  Searching for Love

  Book 2

  Find out what happens to Brooke in

  Searching for Love

  Behind Blue Lines

  Book 2

  by Christine Zolendz

  Read on for a sneak peek of the prologue!

  Prologue

  The kitchen lights were dimmed and candles flickered softly around the room. I made steak and potatoes, with seasoned asparagus, and even though this wasn’t the first dinner I’d prepared for him, my stomach was aflutter with butterflies.

  “God, this is so delicious, babe, really.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and smiled his sexy smile, the one I was falling in love with. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal like this in years.”

  I was glad he liked the dinner. I wanted to make him something special. His mood had been off for the last few days, and I wanted to make him feel better, more relaxed. We’d been dating for three months, sneaking in time together from our busy work schedules. It had been exactly three months, and I know it sounded cheesy, but I was falling for him fast. I wanted to celebrate us, and the twelve weeks we’d shared together. I’m a hopeless romantic.

  And I thought it was about time he met my family.

  I thought making a Porterhouse steak for him would seal the deal, hoping he’d be just as excited about the idea of meeting my crazy family as I was about them meeting
him.

  “So, I was thinking,” I said, twirling my fork through the butter on my mashed potatoes. My voice was soft and low.

  “Uh oh, that sounds like trouble,” he chuckled, taking a long sip of his red wine. He set down the empty glass softly when he was done and a stain of deep crimson wine circled around his lips.

  “What do you think about me inviting you to dinner with my family?” The words came out a lot weaker than I wanted them to. The last thing I wanted was to sound like one of those whiny, nagging girlfriends. I wanted us to be different than what I heard my friends in relationships complaining about. I wanted us to be real. I wanted to be in love.

  His eyes darted up to mine and narrowed. “We haven’t been together that long.” He shook his head, his wine stained mouth pulled down at the corners, making him look macabre. “I think it’s too soon to meet your parents.”

  I blinked up at him, stunned, not knowing what to say next. Three months was a pretty long time for me. One of the girls I worked with was dating a guy for not even four months, and she was already wearing a two-carat diamond engagement ring.

  He poured himself another glass of wine, almost spilling it over the rim. “Aw, babe, come on. Don’t look at me like I just kicked your puppy.” He took another gulp at the wine, and the stain around his mouth darkened. “You’re young Brooke, and meeting parents is important to you, but I’m much older. I can tell you it’s not. It’s totally overrated.”

  I felt a little sick. “Three months though, you know? Did you know it’s our three-month anniversary today?” I asked, quietly, feeling my heart thudding faster in my chest.

  He forked another piece of steak into his mouth and chewed loudly. “Anniversary of what?”

  “Of us. Together.” My voice cracked, and I instantly felt like I wanted to throw my potatoes at him.

  “Us? Together? You mean…how long we’ve been hooking up?” he said, his glance wandering to his phone to see if he had any messages.

  Hooking up?

  The words felt like slaps to my skin. He thought all we’ve been doing for the last three months was hooking up? I silently dropped my fork onto my plate and fisted my hands in my lap. I didn’t know if I should hold my tongue or let loose on him. Heat flushed through my chest like I was feeling my blood actually starting to boil. My teeth ground down as I watched him continue to eat and drink like his words weren’t knives slashing into my flesh. He was halfway done with his steak and on the second bottle of wine, and I was having a mental and emotional breakdown right across from him. Yet, he noticed none of it.

  I needed to be honest with myself.

  I was starting to feel uncomfortable about the sneaking around at work. Why did I always have to go out of my way to do things for him? Why didn’t he ever invite me over to his place and cook me a nice romantic meal? Why did we have to keep it under wraps?

  “I get the feeling that I’m more involved in this relationship than you are. What the hell is that about?” I blurted out, angrily. Totally sounding like a nagging girlfriend there. I needed to rein it back in and calm down.

  His hands stilled, fork midway up to his lips. Immediately, he dropped it clattering back down into the plate.

  I didn’t care. I was pissed off and getting more pissed by the second. There was no controlling my mouth. “I feel like I’m in, like, half a relationship. I don’t want to be a secret. I’m an adult. We’re adults, and I just feel like—”

  He held up his hand to stop me from spewing more crap. “Brooke, I love that it’s just me and you. Okay? No one else needs to come into our bubble. Don’t you like it just me and you?”

  “I like it, but I kind of want more. At least a dinner with my family. Or, something else, maybe?” What else maybe, why did I say that? All I asked for was a dinner with my family. How hard was that?

  “What else?” he sighed, leaning back on the chair and offering me a glassy-eyed stare. “What more do you want from me? I thought we were happy with the way things were going. I thought everything was perfect. Are you saying it’s not perfect, because then I’m not sure—”

  “I’m not saying that! I love the attention you give me. I love that when you’re here, there’s no work or people bugging us. I love that you turn your phone off and just spend time with me, okay? I love that you cannot keep your hands off me. I love our sex life. But we’re always running out of time. I just want more of you. That’s all.”

  He ran a hand over his face and rubbed at his brow as if to ward off the headache that was me. “If this is going to become an issue, then maybe we shouldn’t spend time together. Maybe, we’ve run our course.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I snapped, calling his bluff.

  He shoved his chair back from the table. “You’re fucking someone else, aren’t you?” he growled.

  “What?” I said, flinching back. “That’s what you think I’m saying? Really? Because what I hear is that I want to spend more time with you, and you said maybe it’s not working between us. So if it’s not working for you to spend more time with me, then maybe I should find someone else to fuck.”

  Holy crap, what did I just say? I didn’t mean that.

  I was just upset and hurt and angry and God, all I wanted was to have dinner with my family. My mother knew I was dating someone, and I was sick of the all the questions.

  He was up in an instant, lunging across the table, hands at my throat.

  My hands were at his chest, pushing as hard I could, but he was too strong. My back was slammed against the wall, his huge forearm wedged under my chin, shoved hard against my windpipe. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t steal the slightest bit of air, my chest burned with fire. I felt my veins popping and pulsing through my temples.

  I balled my hands into fists and pounded on his chest, but the punches came too weak. My eyes watered. My vision doubled, tripled, blackened along the edges. I tried to scream, mouth open wide, eyes bulging from my sockets. I went for his eyes, tried to scratch them, tried to scramble away, but he pressed his arm into me harder and my hands and arms went numb. They prickled with thousands of pins and needles that rushed up to my shoulders and down to my toes.

  Fireworks of pain and light exploded into the side of my face, making the world tilt and reel around me. I couldn’t think straight to figure out what happened. My thoughts fogged over for a moment. This wasn’t really happening. We were just eating dinner, weren’t we?

  If you want to know more, order Searching for Love now!

  Free Book!

  Also by Christine Zolendz

  If you want to read more of my books, below is a list of my other titles.

  Mad World Series

  Fall From Grace (FREE!)

  Saving Grace

  Scars and Songs

  Romance Suspense

  Brutally Beautiful

  Cold-Blooded Beautiful

  Hilarious Chick-Lit

  #TripleX (co-written with Angelisa Stone)

  Contemporary Romance

  Here’s To Falling

  Best Man

  Contemporary Romance/Erotica

  Suite 269

  Behind Blue Lines Series

  Resisting Love

  Searching for Love

  Finding Love (Coming Soon!)

  Missing Love (Coming Soon!)

  Journals

  Check out my Journals, sketch pads, and planners. They make AWESOME gifts!

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