Damage: The Men of Law (The Men of Law Series Book 2)

by Casey Clipper

  “I think I’m falling in love with you.” He blurted it out like an idiot.

  She froze. His heart froze. His stomach churned.

  She didn’t bother turning around. “I don’t know that I can trust you, Dean. I don’t know that I can trust any man, again.”

  Josie left him on the steps, disappointed with a twinge in his belly and ache in his chest. Her words weren’t the reaction he’d hoped for. He didn’t know what he expected. But he certainly didn’t anticipate a complete rejection. Not after she’d clearly been falling for him just a couple weeks ago. Had he ruined any chance with her? Did he put the nail in the coffin?

  No, he couldn’t believe that. There was something more profound between them. Something that he couldn’t pinpoint but was there, pulling them together, drawing them toward one another. He’d have to work on what he had blindly pushed away, losing Josie’s trust. But at least she’d been honest. He would have to work around her hesitation and prove to her that he wasn’t like every other man that had been in her life. He would prove to her that he was dependable and would move heaven and earth to protect her. Dean had his work cut out for him, but he’d do whatever it took to fix what he’d broken.

  30

  “Pack a bag, I’m taking you to my house.”

  Josie looked up from her bowl of multigrain cereal, her mouth popping open, almond milk spilling out. She clamped her mouth shut, grabbing a napkin, wiping the dribble. “What?”

  “You need a place to relax and this isn’t it.” He waved to their surroundings. “Mentally you need to recuperate. Everyone knows they can accost you here. We’re leaving. Pack a bag to stay for a while.”

  “Dean,” she protested.

  He sauntered out of the room, ignoring her. The damn Neanderthal.

  Two hours later, she stood in middle of a home that resembled nothing like hers. Whereas her home consisted of sleek lines and bold colors, Dean’s décor resembled American country chic. A strong scent of cinnamon lingered in the air. Despite that it wasn’t her style, it was homey. Certainly not what she expected. And only one explanation. “Erin decorated your home.”

  The smile in Dean’s voice was evident, without having to look at him. “She did. She loved this stuff. I don’t really care how the house looks inside, but she did and it made her happy...”

  Josie glanced at him in time to see him shrug.

  “It has a warm feel.”

  “It does.” He walked toward the back of the house, carrying her bags. “I’ll show you upstairs.”

  Josie followed him to the second floor and down a short hallway. The house only had one full bath, located on the left. The guest bedroom was located across the hall from the bath. The master bedroom was at the end of the hall, with another bedroom that Dean glided past, not showing her the inside of the room when he gave the brief tour. Curiosity peaked, but she didn’t have a moment to question him as he carried her suitcase and overnight bags into the spare bedroom. The upstairs wasn’t as over-the-top decorated as the bottom floor, but hints of Erin’s fondness with the particular décor style was scattered here and there.

  The front doorbell rang.

  “I'll be right back.” Dean jogged downstairs to answer the door.

  Josie hoisted her suitcase onto a baggage holder, surprised to find the chest of drawers empty when she unpacked her clothing.

  Deep male voices carried upstairs. Who was here? Did they come with news about her brother? She hadn't heard from him since she'd left the police station a couple days ago. She decided to investigate. She should be privy to any discussion about her sibling and case.

  “He’s desperate to talk to Josie. And he’s pissed off at Hannah. I’m this close to killing him myself, man. If he lays one finger on my wife…” It was Jason, angry as hell.

  “I believe your wife is more than capable of handling herself,” Dean drawled.

  Josie perched herself on the top step, eavesdropping, unable to help herself. It was totally juvenile, but they were clearly discussing Harry.

  “Don’t you fucking dismiss my concern for Hannah. She’s pregnant with my child. And even if she wasn’t, she’s still my wife. My goddamn life. I’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect her, Dean.”

  “Jason, calm down. You don’t want to do anything stupid,” Dean said, remaining civil.

  “How can you be so calm? You love Josie. I know you do. And one of those men, her brother being on that list, could possibly be the man who attacked her.”

  Dean snarled, “Keep your voice down. Josie’s upstairs unpacking. She doesn’t need to hear you spewing stupid shit. Yes, she is aware that we want to speak to her brother, but she has no idea what’s really going on. And I want to keep it that way. I don’t want to alienate her if it turns out we’re wrong.”

  She inhaled sharply, her world tilting on its axis. Her heart didn’t just break, it tore open. Another knife piercing her. This one shoved into her chest. What had Harry done to warrant such scrutiny? A noise escaped her throat as she buried her head into her hands. They didn’t just want to talk to her brother, they suspected her own flesh and blood tried to murder her. Why? Why? Why?

  Dean appeared before her, trying to peel her hands from her face. “Josie, honey.”

  No words could form.

  Dean scooped her up into his strong arms, carrying her down the hall to his bedroom, laying her on his massive bed. Her guest mattress couldn’t fit his frame while holding her in his sinewy arms tightly. Her head remained buried.

  “You think my…my brother…” She couldn’t finish the unthinkable.

  “Honey, we have a few theories. One involves your brother. Some don’t.”

  “Some?” Her head popped up. “How many theories to you have?”

  “Right now, a handful.”

  She burst into harder tears. “My life is a tragic Lifetime movie.”

  Dean pressed a kiss to her forehead, running his hand up and down her back. Nothing could possibly soothe her. Her life was falling apart. She didn’t go into work today, Dean insisting she take a day off, asking Marc to act as a supervisor. She made note she was going to have to promote him and give him a raise since he'd basically been running her business for weeks.

  Dean managed to unclamp her hands from her face, torment etched across his features. Her world had been turned upside down and she didn’t understand why she had been singled out. No one in her life understood what she was going through. How much she struggled to get from one moment to the next. No one except for the man that held and consoled her. He understood. He sympathized and empathized because he’d seen this before. He’d lived through his own personal hell. Instead of trying to get herself through the day on her own, she had the option of leaning on a man who could help her. If he allowed himself to open his heart to her. Last night he claimed he wanted to try. Last night he admitted he was falling in love with her. Should she take the chance on yet another man, who could possibly disappoint her? Should she put so much of her heart into his hands, hoping for the best?

  Dean leaned down, peppering her face with soft kisses. She pushed everything out of her mind, concentrating on the surprising softness of his lips. She closed her eyes, losing herself, absorbing the wonderful sensations of a man’s warm embrace, the tenderness of his kiss, the stubble on his jaw sending tingles over her. Dean’s lips pressed to hers, molding their mouths together. She returned the kiss, needing to forget. She just wanted a temporary reprieve to normalcy. Her overly dramatic, altered life kept her from relaxing. Months had taken on the feeling of years. She was drained, mentally and physically. She just wanted some peace.

  Dean’s hand slid under her loose tee, his calloused fingers sending chills over her body, her flesh immediately sensitive. He deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring every depth of her mouth. He hitched her leg over his right hip. She fumbled with his Pittsburgh Steelers sweatshirt, tugging it, wanting to feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. He jerked up, tore off the pull
over, along with his T-shirt. Her eyes went wide. The suits and clothing he wore didn’t do him justice. Dean was a Nordic god. A washboard stomach, a solid wide chest, and arms the size of her thighs suggested hours of regular gym time. She grazed her finger through the small, splattering of hair between his pecs. His mouth quirked as he reached for the hem of her tee and slowly lifted it off her body.

  He inhaled, his eyes turning black, a wolfish smile curling his lips.

  “So beautiful.” He traced a finger over her shoulders, down her neck, to the swell of her breasts. He laid next to her, kissing the side of her neck, his sensual lips trailing their way down her chest to her breasts. His tongue ran along the edge of her silk bra. He expertly popped the clasp in the back, sliding the straps off her shoulders. He took her breast into his mouth, laving and sucking, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. She lost herself in his gentle touch, in his day-old shadow brushing her skin. When he slid her yoga pants off her, she’d been too lost in his expert foreplay to realize she was naked. Her hands snaked over her scar, covering her marred skin. He gently pulled them away, shaking his head in admonition. “Don’t ever hide from me. You’re stunning.”

  He went back to worshiping her body. She allowed him to take her to a place of ecstasy, where nothing invaded their space. No attempted murderer. No brother as a suspect. No danger. No death.

  Dean slithered out of his jeans, his massive length jutting from his body, pointing to her. He rolled onto his back, pulling her to straddle his hips.

  “Take me,” he ground out.

  Hot tears instantly stung her eyes. He knew. He was fully aware and understood that there was no way she could possibly have him on top of her, his body pressing her into the bed.

  A salty drop fell onto his chest. He tenderly swiped it away. “Don’t cry.”

  “I want to be normal again.” She hiccupped.

  “You will be.” His copper eyes held so much promise that she believed him.

  Dean maneuvered her hips, positioning himself underneath her. Slowly, he sunk into her body. She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of him entering her, stretching her. It had been so long since she’d been with a man sexually, she had to adjust to his hard length. Dean grasped her hips to keep her from moving. A small groan bubbled up from his chest.

  “Slow, Josie,” he strained, his voice guttural. “Let me savor you.”

  She undulated her hips, rocking slowly, bracing her hands on his chest to keep steady. His large hands wrapped around her ass, guiding her at the speed he wanted as he pushed his pelvis into her over and over again. Their rhythm quickly increased. Their eyes locked. Josie couldn’t break from his heated gaze. She felt herself crack, the wall erected around herself begin to crumble. She wanted this in her life. She wanted this all-encompassing power between the two of them. This connection, this drive to become one. She wanted Dean. Forever.

  She leaned over and kissed him fiercely, pouring her mix of emotions through the connection. Dean wrapped her up, driving into her.

  “I love you, Josie,” he said, his voice strained. “Love me back. Please.”

  She couldn’t say the words. She wanted to, desperately, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to. He’d hurt her and she didn’t trust that he wouldn’t regret their love making tomorrow. But she wanted tonight. She wanted what her mind needed, a pardon from all the shit that chased her.

  Dean picked up the pace, pounding into her body, hitting the sensitive spot that sent her flying off a cliff. She screamed out as her orgasm consumed her, washing over her. Dean ground out something unintelligible, going rigid, grunting, holding her tight against him.

  Josie fell limp, her body shaking as she silently wept. She found the man she wanted to spend her life with, make a home with, come home to nightly, but she had no idea if she could truly ever love or trust him. Worse, she didn’t know if he could genuinely ever love her fully.

  ***

  Josie jerked awake, her eyes flying open. She glanced around the bedroom, trying to get a bearing on her surroundings. Dean’s bedroom.

  He was lying on his stomach, naked, a heavy arm draped over her chest. He really was a specimen of masculine perfection. Especially his backside. She would have never guessed that he spent any time working out, but he had to be some sort of gym rat to maintain his physique.

  She carefully squirmed out of his hold, throwing on her T-shirt and panties. The evening light streamed through the blinds. They had slept for hours, both mentally sapped.

  She went to the bathroom and the spare bedroom, pulling her pajama set out of her suitcase. She went downstairs and grabbed a couple bottles of water, meandering around Dean’s home, taking in every little nuance his wife had put into decorating. Josie couldn’t say she was a fan of the style or that she was totally comfortable in the home, but a warmness did exude from inside the house. Which made her curious about the room upstairs that Dean refused to show her as part of the tour.

  Josie quietly went upstairs, peeking in on Dean still sound asleep. She went to the door across the hall, hesitating. Should she snoop in on a space he didn’t want her to see? It was probably just a spare room used for storage and a complete mess. She would understand. Didn’t all homes have a room like that?

  Josie turned the doorknob and opened the door, a small creak coming from the jam. She flicked on the light and her heart dropped to her stomach. This was no storage room. It was a temple. A temple to the baby that had never come into his life. A complete nursery, waiting for an occupant.

  She stepped inside, her heart crashed to the floor. Dean may say that he loved her, but this room spoke volumes. He would never be able to fully love her, or any woman, as long as he hung onto a past that would forever haunt him.

  Josie ran a finger over the changing table, leaving a line in the thick dust that had settled. He hadn’t even bothered to hire a cleaning crew to maintain the room. Stuffed animals that were probably once brightly colored, now sat dull and yellow. She opened a drawer to find it full of newborn boy clothing. Tears streaked down her cheeks at the little life lost. And the pain that Dean must suffer daily. She hadn’t grasped the full scope of it until this moment. Seeing the tribute. The moment of time frozen.

  A relationship with Dean would never work. His heart forever placed inside this room. Time-stamped.

  She saw a shadow in her peripheral vision appear. She spun and gasped. Dean stood in the doorway, watching her. Dressed in only a pair of sweats, he stepped into the room. His eyes zeroed in on her.

  “I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “I shouldn’t have come in here.”

  He said nothing, as he took on a statue posture, unmoving.

  She fidgeted under his unwavering stare. She didn’t know what else to say. But the need to escape the room, to get out the space she uninvitingly invaded, overwhelmed her.

  Dean strode past her, going to the crib, running a hand along the side rail. “His name was Dean. Not junior, though. Erin wouldn’t allow that.

  “I’ve filled my life with meaningless flings and alcohol since their deaths,” he said, not facing her. “I couldn’t bear the thought of another woman replacing Erin. Yet I didn’t want to spend all my nights alone with my thoughts of ‘what ifs.’”

  She wanted to melt into a puddle of despair. Hours ago, she considered a form of relationship between them might work. Dean had forced her to let her guard down and she mistakenly had.

  “And then you came along.” He toyed with a blue stuffed elephant, finally looking her way. “You’ve turned my world upside down. Your quiet strength, determination, and will. Your self-reliance and unwillingness to compromise who you are or what you’ve built for any man that comes into your life. Your every day fight to gain back what some asshole tried to take from you.”

  Unstoppable tears continued to stream. She was surprised she continued to have the ability to form them, she'd cried so damn much over the past months.

  “Erin would have adored y
ou. And like Hannah, she would have been a pit bull at your side,” he said, setting the stuffed animal back onto the bedding.

  “Do you sometimes think Erin sent Hannah to Jason, not just for him, but for you, too? She’s extremely loyal to you.” Josie did believe in such things. She believed everything happened for a reason. Though there were times when she questioned why fate could be such a royal bitch, like her attack.

  “She should be.” Dean scoffed.

  She didn’t know what that meant.

  “I’m not too sure about your theory,” he said. “I don’t believe in coincidences or possibilities. I believe in facts.”

  He would. He was a man of the law. He probably didn’t see the world in shades.

  Dean stepped up to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, sliding down her arms, and clasping their hands together. He leaned his head to the side, his mouth descending. He kissed her gently, his warm mouth soft. He swiped his tongue along her lips. She opened up for him, their moist tongues slowly dancing. She became entranced by his expert kiss, pressing against his body.

  He pulled back, looking her straight in the eyes. His filled with love and apprehension. “Give me a chance to give us a chance. I’m asking you to open your heart to me. I’m asking you to let me in. I know I’m asking a lot of you, given what you see here. To take a chance on a man who still mourns his dead wife and son. But you’ve cracked through my destroyed heart. I never thought that would happen. I resigned myself to spending the rest of my days alone with my grief. But since the day I held your hand, you lying on your living room floor, fighting for your life, you’ve had me. I don’t want to lose you and what you’ve brought into my life. I’m being purely selfish, here, I know. I’m asking for you to stick by me. To help a man move forward with his life. I have never asked this of anyone, Josie. Only you.”