She laughed and smacked my stomach. “I really was just trying to help. Now quit and hold your damn boxers before the hotel runs out of water.”
At the reminder, the sound of the water still running clicked as well. Damn, I really was out of it. I rolled my eyes at her, but did as she said and held onto the waistband while she worked my jeans down my legs; maybe they were that tight?
“Come on.” She motioned for the shower and looked away.
Little shit head. I grumbled as I dropped the boxers and stepped into the shower. The cold water hit my system, giving me the shock I’d needed earlier to pull me out of my own head. I didn’t really need it now, J had been distraction enough, but it helped the situation with my dick. That fucker needed to chill the fuck out.
I stood under the spray, head down, with my arms leaned out against the wall, and let the icy jets of water beat all the reasons I couldn’t fuck J into next week back into my skull.
I went from being her teacher to her boss within a week of her graduating. But that week, when we were nothing but us. Fuck. The night of her graduation, when she’d told me what had gone down with Rory, was burned into my subconscious and played like a reel in my mind. The feel of her ass in my hands as she clung to me, her desperate lips and greedy nails digging into me echoing the need that was always inside me for her. My jean clad cock pressed into her as she ground herself against me.
I balled my hands into fists at the memory that was never far away. The cold water did nothing, and I was harder now than ever.
A shriek pulled me out, and I turned to see J, arms crossed over her sports bra, huddled into the corner of the stall like a traumatized cat that got sprayed with the hose.
“Seriously! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“At the moment? You,” I said and put my hand on my hip.
“Fix it!” She waved her arm at the knobs and bounced on the balls of her feet.
“If I fix it, you won’t go away.” I hated the cold and was already freezing my balls off but watching her squirm was entertaining as hell. Such a little drama queen.
“James Micheal!” She grabbed the shampoo and threw it at my head.
I ducked and let it hit the wall behind me. The plastic cracked, and it ricocheted off the wall and into the floor before it bounced right back to her.
I grinned and felt my cock twitch. Her angry face just did it for me, always had. Which was inconvenient to say the least. She was mad a lot. It was the only time you could really hear her Irish accent and the ire in her eyes was sexy as fuck. She was fucking feisty and threw shit all the time. I knew I was fucked in the head but damned if it didn’t turn me on.
“Come on, asshole. I’m freezing over here.”
I rolled my eyes again and flipped the hot water on. It didn’t take long for the steam to fill the shower and I moved back under the spray. Two seconds later, she was wiggling her way under my arm and pushing me out of the way. I lifted my arm above her head and frowned. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Thawing out.”
I laughed but moved over to let her have it. I needed to wash my ass, anyway.
“You wanna talk about it?”
I sighed and grabbed the soap, dumping a quarter of the bottle on her squishy thing. “Not really.”
I scrubbed my face and beard then stuck it under the water above her head and let the soap run off into her hair.
“The fuck?” She looked up and huffed. “Are you just trying to irritate me?”
I shrugged and moved back to finish, knowing damn well I was, but wasn’t stupid enough to say it while my balls were in view.
I lifted my right arm and pain shot through my shoulder. “Son of a fucking bitch!”
Hands landed on my arm and chest. “Easy, big guy. Bring it down.”
I gritted my teeth and lowered it down slowly. “What the fuck is wrong with my arm?”
“You were shot. What’d you expect?”
“I’ve been shot before. It doesn’t hurt this bad.”
She frowned and inspected the stitches. “It looks okay, like a normal bullet wound. You think it’s something else?”
“I don’t know, but it hurts like a bitch,” I said, begrudgingly admitting the truth.
“Maybe it’s just where it’s at. Here, move your arm forward.” Her hands eased it in front of me and I locked my jaw. A growl escaped, and she glared up at me before taking the soapy thing from my other hand.
She pressed it against the back of my pit and looked up at me one last time before she moved it under my arm.
I know she was trying to be easy but that mother fucker burned and I bared my teeth at her.
She winced and eased up even more. “Sorry.” She frowned in concentration as she washed my damn underarm like it was crystal.
The fact that she was babying me pissed me off even more. “Enough.” I moved away from her and eased it back down by my side.
“Fine candy ass, do it yourself.” She threw the sponge back at me and turned away.
I flipped her back off and scrubbed the rest off my body trying not to think about anything.
“James!” she cried in a semi panicked voice.
My stomach flipped at the sound of my first name and I whirled around. Then froze, dumbfounded.
She had her sports bra half over her head, one side to her bicep, the other on her shoulder, and her hair tangled all in the mess. Bent forward, she struggled and twisted her small frame back and forth while she yanked at the bra and cursed.
How…
“Get it off!” she screeched and jumped up and down as she jerked harder.
A laugh ripped itself free from my chest and I stood there covered in soap and crossed my arms over my chest. “I may be a ‘candy ass', but at least I don’t get stuck in my own clothing.”
“Said the guy with a pile of ripped shirts.” She stopped struggling, stood up with her arms in the air and looked at me through the space between her biceps. “Help me!”
If her tits weren’t swinging around every-fucking-where with her antics, I’d have went and got my phone for a picture. As it was, this would be another thing burned into the back of my mind.
“Sut!”
“You realize I spend more time saving you from yourself than I do anything else?” I asked as I walked over and pushed her head down so I could pull her hair free of the mess.
“Ow! That shit is attached!”
“Maybe if you didn’t have so much of it, you wouldn’t have this problem.” The shit was past her ass and she hadn’t had a haircut in the four years I’d known her.
“You’d have a fucking coronary if I cut my hair and you know it.”
I popped her on the head. She wasn’t wrong, and I wasn’t surprised she knew I had a thing for her skunk locks. “That’s beside the point, Penelope, now be still.”
She struggled harder beneath my hands. “If you call me that damn cat skunk one more time, I swear to all that is holy, I will kick your ass!”
I smiled, knowing how much she hated it. “You’re currently being held hostage by your own bra, J. Kinda kills the whole threat thing.”
She huffed but quit moving and I grabbed the bottom of the bra and peeled it up and off her.
Once free, she popped up, red in the face, hair a tangled matted mess, breathing hard. “You suck.”
I snorted and pointed to her head as I moved to rinse off. “May want to condition that rat nest.” I threw her the bottle off the shelf and turned around under the water then braced myself for the bottle against the back of my head.
When it never came, I glanced over my shoulder and saw her working it into her hair as she frowned. Damn, that wasn’t good. I shook the water out of my hair and went over what I said. Nothing more than the normal shit we gave each other, but I wouldn’t intentionally hurt her feelings. I wasn’t that much of an ass.
I sighed and pulled her to me. “Talk to me, shit head.”
“Just thinking.”
I nodded and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Need any help with that?”
“No offense, but you’re kinda horrible at the whole thinking thing.”
I rolled my eyes. “I meant your hair, smart ass.”
“Yeah, I know.” She smiled half heartedly and pulled away to get the conditioner out of her hair.
She was more stubborn than I was, deflection her superpower. But I wouldn’t force her. I stepped out, dried off, and grabbed my grey sweats off the shelf. Water hit my shoulders, and I looked up in time to see her shorts fly by and land with a splat in the tub. I shook my head and walked out of the bathroom.
Chapter Twelve
Sutton
I’d gotten dressed, reported in, and filled out most of the paperwork from this morning by the time she walked out in only one of my t-shirts. Lost in thought, frown still in place, she made her way to the bar and poured a couple of drinks.
My cock stirred at the sight, and I adjusted myself in the chair. “Eat before you drink.”
She downed one, refilled it then walked them over and held the other out to me.
I searched her face for any sign she was struggling with whatever was on her mind. Had she finally decided to process this morning? She’d killed someone and hadn’t said a word about it.
I took the damn drink and killed half. A flash of pink caught my eye, and I pulled it back to see the hot pink ‘J.J.’ carved in an elegant scrawl in the glass. It was hers, part of the matching set of crystal tumblers she’d bought us. Mine was the same, just in black.
“Woman.”
She picked her head up from the box of meal bars she was picking through. “Huh?”
I shook the glass in my finger tips. “Not mine. You gave me yours, again.”
Her gaze flicked down to hers and back to me then shrugged. “You know you like my pink jayjay.”
She said it just as I’d taken a drink and I sputtered, not expecting the dirty joke with all the tension in the room and her mood.
I swiped the back of my hand across my chin and looked at her.
The way her head worked baffled me. She could just not think of something. Compartmentalize it; put it in a box inside her mind and send it off to oblivion to deal with later and move on to fucking sex jokes like nothing ever happened.
“You’re worse than every guy I ever met on the force, you know that, right?”
Fucking little perv just grinned, squared shoulders proudly, and wiggled back and forth.
“That’s not exactly something to be proud of, woman.”
“Depends on your goals in life.”
My mind went blank, and I shook my head before I closed the laptop and made myself another drink.
When I came back from the bar, she was pacing, picking at the food, and lost in thought again. I groaned and turned back around to grab the bottle. I barely kept up with her on a good day, but days like this gave me a migraine.
I dropped the bottle to the coffee table. “Sit.”
She actually listened without argument for once and that told me more than anything. She pulled her knees up to her chest, exposing her bare thighs and flashing her ass cheeks. Nudity had never been an issue with her. Hell, I had to down right fight with her just to get her in fucking underwear. An argument I lost, frequently.
I sat down beside her, not looking between her legs, and refilled her glass.
“Look, I’m not going to force you. I never have,” I said before leaning back and handing her her drink. I caught her gaze so she could see how serious I was. I wanted there to be no misunderstanding or doubt left in her mind. “But you can talk to me. It’s kinda what I’m here for, ya know?”
The slight movement in her cheek where she’d been nervously chewing stilled and her fingers stopped tapping on her glass; she was forcing herself not to react. Purposeful non reaction wasn’t a good sign. I’d touched a nerve but didn’t know which one. I frowned and watched her face closely.
“J.”
Her eyes met mine shadowed and a green darker than I’d ever seen them turn. Fuck. I’d just told her I was here if she needed me. How did I fuck that up? Being here for her was my fucking jo—
Shit. It hit, and it hit hard. There wasn't a fucking chance in hell I would tell someone being paid a fucking thing. Is that how she thought of it? Of us? Four years. Four years and she’d worked her way inside me to the point I didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror anymore. Out of retirement and back on active duty. A partner. Head of our department. Okay, our department may only consist of us because I refused to fucking deal with other people’s bullshit, but fuck that shit. They knew the deal; I set my terms, and they accepted. I was here for her. She goes, I go.
I turned and looked at her. She was still sitting very still, eyes on the sliding glass door like she wanted to run for them. Did she only think I was here because I was being paid? First as her teacher, now her boss. My chest burned, anger and sadness warring within me as I leaned over and wrapped my arms around her legs and waist and snatched her ass off the couch.
She yelped in surprise and grabbed my shoulder as I leaned back and lowered her on my lap. Her wide eyes found mine over her knees and I pulled her ass closer to me, forcing her knees to part. Her feet fell to each side of my hips and I locked my jaw against the urge to look down.
“I’m gonna talk and you’re gonna listen.”
Tension tightened her body at my words but she didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The only change in her at my command was the darkening of the shadows in her eyes.
“I don’t know where your fucking heads at right now. What I do know is you are the most frustrating woman on the face of the planet.”
Her lips curled in disgust and she moved to get off my lap, so I tightened my grip on her hips, locking her in place. “I’m not done.”
She stilled and slowly met my eyes head on.
A bitter hardness replaced the shadows; one I recognized all too well. Pain radiated through my chest at seeing the walls she put up against the rest of the world there between us.
“You can knock that shit off right now. Because, whether you like it or not, I’m not going anywhere and we’re having this discussion.”
Her hair tickled my fingers as I waited for her to say something. Anything. But there was nothing. Still and stubborn, she just stared. Defying my order while she waited for me to get the fuck on with it.
She wouldn’t hear a word I said at this point. The urge to force her, make her let me back in, burned inside me. My fists tightened, and fingers dug into her ass, as I fought not to shake sense into her thick skull. It was like looking in a mirror, except worse. With tits, long hair, and the ability to shut down and wait you out instead of a short-fused temper, she was even more infuriating and pigheaded than I ever was.
I sighed and made a mental note to send Mom flowers and a thank you card for not putting my stupid ass up for adoption or down right strangling my ass like I wanted to J right now.
The only option was making her see the truth for herself and hope it was enough to outweigh whatever had her locked in her own mind.
“Why am I here?”
She frowned at the unexpected question but answered. “Because your hotel room sucks balls and you’re an overprotective neurotic control freak.”
The vein in my temple pulsed and my teeth ground together as I inhaled a deep breath through my nose in an effort to keep my control. When I thought I could speak without snapping, I grit out, “No, Vaughn.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts and ire sparked in those pretty green eyes, bringing the fight back into them. “Yes. Those are exactly the reasons you’re always in my room. I don’t even know why you still insist on getting your own, you never use them.”
“Bureau policy.”
“Then why are you always in mine?” she cried, throwing her arms up in the air.
Because I wanted to, and that’s all there was to it. “Personal policy.”
She
wanted to argue, I could see it in her eyes. And when she opened her mouth to say something, I snapped.
“I’m not talking about the fucking hotel, Vaughn!”
“Then you should specify! If you want a specific answer, ask a specific question!”
“Here!” I yelled and felt heat crawl up my face. The slight pulsing in my temples amped to a steady throb. “With you. This job. This case! Why I’m here, Vaughn!”
She winced and grabbed my chest. “You’re pulling my hair.”
Shit. I loosened my balled my fists and her hair fell free of the death grip I’d unknowingly had on it.
“You okay?” I searched her face to see if I’d really hurt her.
“Thanks. And yeah, I’m fine, big guy.” She shook it back without looking at me and wound it around her arm before tucking it through and tying it in a knot.
I leaned forward, cupped each side of her face, and laid my forehead against hers. “Sorry.”
“It’s ok.” Her hands fell to my arms and her fingers dug into my skin as she clung to my bicep. “Sorry, for making you mad.” Her voice was a whisper, but it cut straight through me.
“I’m not mad.”
She pulled back and looked at me skeptically.
“Okay, I’m mad.” I pulled her face back to mine. “But it’s because trying to get you to see what’s right in front of your face is more fucking frustrating than this God forsaken case we’re on.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Believe me, I’m aware. But I’m trying here. So if you could just chill the fuck out and let me, that would be great.”
“Um,” she hedged and wiggled on my lap. “Okay.”
Her warm breath on my face combined with the wiggling she was doing in my lap threatened to distract me. I closed my eyes to focus and hoped this all came out right.
“I’m here because I want to be. Not because I’m your boss, this case, or I’m getting paid to make sure you’re alright, J. I want to be here. With you. You’re not the only one with a fucked up past, Vaughn. With ghosts that fucking haunt your ass and fuck with your head. Too fucking scared to get close to anyone because of what it might do to them; how you’re gonna fuck their lives up with your own bullshit. We,” I paused and moved my hands down to her thighs and squeezed them, “people like us, give baggage a whole new meaning. And whatever fucking baggage your dragging around up in that beautiful head of yours... I’m right here.”
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