by S. Poirier
My entire mouth and throat go drier than the Sahara.
She says this like it isn’t a big deal. Like sleeping completely nude is just something every single woman in the world does. It isn’t something she’s embarrassed by, nor does she seem very secretive about it. The idea of her sleeping naked between my sheets makes my cock swell against my jeans again, and I’m starting to think that I might need to take a shower first. A cold shower.
“Catch, did you hear me? If you don’t want me sleeping naked in your bed I might need a shirt to sleep in,” she says pulling me from my foggy images of her being naked.
Honestly, I don’t have a single problem with her sleeping naked in my bed even if I am on the couch, but telling her that probably isn’t the best thing to do.
“Yeah, I’ll get you a shirt,” I say. She starts digging through her bag again, so I take the opportunity to adjust my junk before walking over to the closet. I toss a T-shirt across the room and hit her in the head with it.
She pulls it off, sending her hair into a frizzy mess, and glares at me. “You’re kind of annoying.” I shrug. Sighing dramatically she walks out of the room, and a few seconds later I hear the soft click of the bathroom door closing.
5
Max
Jesus this man is a piece of work. He jokes with me one minute and then the next he looks like he wants to strangle me.
While he’s gone I do some digging. Not much, just opening and closing cabinets and closets. I was hoping to find something that might clue me in on his job that he is so mysterious about. The only thing I learn is that he’s even more of a neat freak than I am, and that he has nothing to eat, and I’m starving. He also doesn’t have a computer. Who the hell doesn’t have a computer? I need to see what is on that memory stick.
Frustrated I drink two more of his beers and then pass out on his couch.
His eyes were so sweet when he woke me, and I caught him checking me out. It felt like he was undressing me with his eyes. Normally I would deck a guy for looking at me like that, but Catch, he’s different for some reason. So far there isn’t anything about him that isn’t male. From his delicious looks, the clothes he wears, vehicles he drives, and raw attitude, everything screams male.
Most guys I have dated, or had a small fling with, were easily beatable. I could kick their asses before they realized I had even thrown the first punch. I knew it was different with Catch. I saw the man fight. I’ve always craved someone who could handle me. Go toe to toe with me. I’ve never found that in past relationships, and that’s why they never lasted very long. Catch is a challenge, and I like challenges.
I finish showering and dry off. I didn’t pay any attention to the shirt he gave me until I pull it over my head. My mouth drops open when I see my reflection in the mirror. It’s one of those shirts with a woman’s body dressed in a bikini. The body is curvy, cartoonish, and the very large, fake breasts stare back at me as if they are taunting me. Is this supposed to be some kind of a joke? Did he think it was funny to give me one of his discarded skank’s shirts?
I was going to take my sweet time in the bathroom, but this shirt is just too much. I emerge in a huff ready to tell Catch to shove it, but he isn’t anywhere inside the apartment. The coward knew this was going to piss me off so he’s hiding.
“Fucking coward,” I say loud enough just in case he’s hiding somewhere within earshot. My voice bounces off the high ceilings and bare walls making me flinch.
I stomp into the bedroom and yank the shirt over my head before I go over to his closet and grab one of his plain black shirts. I rip it off the hanger with such force the hanger makes two complete rotations before falling to the floor.
In a moment of weakness I bring it to my nose and inhale deeply. Laundry detergent and the lingering smell of his scent that clings to the warehouse. It’s intoxicating and I wonder how the hell I’m going to handle wearing his shirt. I pull it over my head and try not to imagine that Catch wore it at one time. Hitting a little past my thighs, it’s shorter than the other shirt, but I have no plans of walking around in front of him with only this shirt on. Or maybe I should prance around in front of him just to see if I can get a rise out of him.
“Ugh.” I shake the ridiculous thought from my head.
His bedroom is very masculine with a modern style king size bed and matching dresser and end tables. The bedding set is a navy blue with white pinstripes, and a few pillows. A flat screen TV hangs above the dresser and there is a picture window with a window seat stretching from one end to the other.
Before lying down I pull my revolver from my bag and tuck it under the pillow on the other side of the bed. Then I slip in between the soft sheets. Nestling my face into his pillow I inhale deeply, committing his scent to my memory because he smells so damn good. I let out a deep sigh as I relax into the mattress. Surprisingly I drift to sleep easily.
I’m sleeping deeply when the bedroom door opens with a bang. In an instant I’m up with my gun pointed and cocked at the mass of man standing in the doorway.
“Max, it’s me,” Catch says through the darkness. He clears the room in quick strides. I never lower my weapon. “Someone is snooping around the place. Get on the floor.” The barrel of my gun follows him as he comes around the side of the bed. “For Christ sake, Max, put the gun down.”
I’m not sure why I’m hesitant to put the gun away. Maybe it’s because he barged into the room, and I woke up with such a start that I had forgotten where I was. Thankfully, I’m not trigger happy and I know when it’s appropriate to pull the trigger. If I wasn’t, Catch would be severely pissed off right now.
All I know now is that he snatches the gun out of my hand and then yanks me out of the bed and down to the floor with him.
“What the hell?” I say. I’m only wearing a T-shirt and panties, and now he’s practically lying on top of me. The hard lines of his chest and abdomen press into my arm and hip. I start to squirm under him and he grabs the back of my thigh right under my ass cheek. I freeze, completely freaked out about the skin on skin contact, and his warm, tight grip. My pulse kicks up a notch, and I have to take a few deep breaths. Oh how I wish he would move his hand up just a few inches.
“Shut up,” he hisses, breaking through my thoughts. Exasperated I go completely limp under him. He looks down at me and I can swear I see him smirking, but it’s too dark to assume, so I bite back a retort.
The feel of his body against mine paired with the heightened situation has my nerves alive. They hum and tingle, setting off a burning low in my stomach. I suppress the desire to reach up and touch him, to run my fingers down his shapely biceps, and across his tight abdomen. The mental image sets my thighs ablaze and I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from moving my legs to pinch my thighs together.
Thankfully he removes his hand from my thigh, even if I can still feel it mentally because it leaves a trail of heat in its place. He’s now using that hand to hold himself up so his weight isn’t bearing down on me anymore. And I hate myself for the fact that I kind of miss him being close.
“What are you doing with a gun?” He whispers snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Seriously, you have to ask me that question? I figured you would have realized by now that I’m not your normal twenty-five year old woman,” I whisper dryly.
“Well, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from pointing it at me.” I feel his breath brush against my neck. And just like a snap of my fingers the dirty thoughts resurface.
Good God his muscles pressing through the shirt feel amazing. It sets off a series of ideas in my head of exactly what I want to do to this man. A few naughty images flash through my head and my pulse bottoms out and then returns with a loud thudding in my ears. I need to get him off of me so he doesn’t feel it. I hardly know him and he is already starting to drive me crazy.
“Your breath really smells,” I say trying desperately to drag my mind out of the gutter.
“Right back atcha, Blaze.” Mu
ch to my relief he gets up and makes his way over to the window. “Stay there. I’m going to go check things out.”
I cross my arms over my chest and don’t bother giving him any kind of answer. I hate for him to boss me around. I’m usually the bossy one. I think I hated even more that I was so willing to obey. Normally if a guy told me not to do something I did it anyway just out of spite, or to prove a point. It was another reason why my past relationships didn’t work out so well.
But not with Catch. Not even twenty-four hours together and I was caving. I never cave. All those one night stands were on me. I was the one calling the shots. They didn’t seduce me I seduced them, and then tossed them out on their asses before the sun came up.
I put my hand in front of my face and huffed. He was right my breath did stink. Dammit, of course mine would smell when his didn’t.
Massive shoulders fill the doorway and I jump up off the floor.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yes, someone was snooping but I don’t think it was anyone of importance. Sometimes I get homeless people trying to find a way in, because they think it’s just an abandoned warehouse.”
The light to the bedroom flips on. Catch tilts his head to the side and furrows his brow. Big, muscly arms crossed over his chest. Then he starts glaring at me, furrowed brows, narrow eyes, and tight, thin lips.
“Hey!” I tug on the hem of the shirt trying to conceal some of my exposed flesh.
He completely ignores my actions and says, “That’s not the shirt I gave you to wear.”
I can feel angry heat fingering its way up my spine. “No, but after what you did give me I decided that it wasn’t going to work. That’s why I switched it out for this one. Black is more my speed.” I smirk. “By the way, exactly what kind of girls are you banging? Because that bikini shirt oozes white trash.”
Catch twists a smirk across his face and then leaves the room, turning off the lights and slowly closing the door behind him.
“Asshole,” I yell loud enough for him to hear. Absolutely amazing, and disgusting, that he will fuck a girl that wears that kind of shirt.
****
Catch
I should have never touched her thigh like that. All soft skin and taut muscles had me fighting a hard on, but she was squirming around so much it was the only thing I could think to do to keep her from kneeing me in the junk.
“Dammit,” I say quietly as I exhale. I need a cold shower, but God knows that probably won’t solve my problem either. There’s only one thing that can handle my rather large problem, and she’s completely out of the question.
I gave her that stupid shirt because I didn’t want to see her wearing my clothes. I was having enough trouble keeping my hands off of her. The bikini shirt wasn’t for another girl, it was a gag gift given to me for my birthday from my sister, but I can’t tell her that. I heard her yell the very colorful nickname she picked out for me at the moment she came out of the bathroom. Her voice was loud enough to carry all the way out into the garage. If that shirt helps her to hate me, then good, I need her to stay far away from me.
Once this girl is in the clear we can go our separate ways. I promised myself after I retired no more fucking around. The one night stands had to stop. They were easy to do when I would be leaving the city, town, or country the very next day. Walking away was easy because I had a job to do.
Now I just need to find a way to clear our names with Timer, so I can dump her off at her apartment and go on my merry way. Hell I would even give her the jeep or the car since her car is now destroyed. Anything to just get this over with.
I drag my hands down my face. “I need a drink,” I mumble.
I open the refrigerator and twist open a beer. I take a long pull, drinking half of it before I even got the door closed. As I finish the rest of my beer I walk around the warehouse turning out all the lights. I toss the bottle in the trash, take my shirt off and toss it over the back of one of the bar stools. Groaning I look down at the couch. Trying to sleep on this thing is going to be such bullshit.
6
Max
“Catch, it has been a week. A. Fucking. Week. I want to call June,” I yell. One week I had been cooped up in this stupid warehouse/apartment thing and I was about to start climbing the walls. Catch is standoffish, and each time I try to walk out the door he stops me. I think the only time he ever leaves the apartment is when I’m sleeping. Either that or he has some way of making food and beer magically appear.
Or maybe my wildest dreams did come true and there really is a beer fairy.
The tension between the two of us is unbearably thick. Sometimes it’s even hard to breathe, and the only thing I want is to step outside and breathe the fresh air. Catch always warns me that that would be a bad idea, but he never elaborates. A few times I try coaxing him into telling me, but it was clear I wasn’t going to get anything out of him.
He storms around the apartment with an air of arrogance and attitude that has me feeling like I would feel better if I just cold clocked him in the mouth. Someone needs to bring him down a peg or two. Other times I want to kiss his mouth, which in no way would hinder his ego.
And despite his pompous ways the attraction to him lingers like a huge rock hanging over my head. I know it’s dangerous—he’s dangerous—but I’m getting to the point that I don’t care. It has been six long months since I had sex. (James Kelly doesn’t count in this instance. Five minutes of missionary position on his desk leaving me unsatisfied and frustrated is hardly what I would call an end to my dry spell.) That and being cooped up was starting to wear on my sanity. Especially since Catch seems to have no attraction to me. Yeah, I’m nice to look at, but he never seems any more interested than just checking me out. Or maybe he is just trying to figure me out?
Crap, I don’t know. When I’m around him I become a huge confused mess. I need to get out of here, or talk to June, before I blow my freaking top.
“You can’t call her,” he simply says as he leans his hip against the bar and crosses his arms over his chest. The sweater he’s wearing stretches tight over his biceps, and forms around his broad shoulders.
I throw my hands up. “Fine. You know what? I’m out of here. I can’t do this and I won’t hide anymore.” I stomp into the bedroom and start throwing my things into my bag. I pick up his black shirt and toss it onto his dresser.
“If you leave they will find you.” He followed me to the bedroom and is hanging onto the top of the doorframe with his fingertips. “They will kill you.” He starts leaning his massive body into the room. With his arms still stretched up over his head I get a peek of his abdomen where his shirt has ridden up.
And I think I see the V.
Holy crap he is hiding the panty dropper under those dark clothes.
I quickly shift my eyes so he doesn’t see me staring.
This last week, when I did see him for longer than a few minutes, our conversations were kept short. He asked me again about the information that I had, and again I didn’t tell him that I didn’t know. I just refused to answer his questions. If I only had access to a computer I could find out what the hell I took that was so important, so damaging that they would have me killed.
“I’ll take my chances. I can take care of myself,” I say as I pull my revolver from under the pillow. He was still letting me sleep in the bed, although I knew he wasn’t getting much sleep on the couch.
“Not against these people!” He starts yelling. “The only chance you have surviving against them is if you are with me! I know how they think, how they operate. Hell, I’m…” he stops yelling and lets his head hang. A low growl rips from his throat as he turns around and storms away from the bedroom.
“What people? And are you one of them?” I don’t miss how he let that last unfinished sentence hang in the air. And besides, how would he know these people so well if he wasn’t one of them.
Catch turns and glares at me. He opens his mouth and then slams it shut. Next he s
tarts towards the garage door.
“Oh no! You’re not going anywhere. I want some answers.” I run around the front of him and put myself between him and the door. Sure he could move me but I don’t think he is stupid enough to try. His eyes meet mine and he shrugs his big shoulders. “A shrug? So we’re back at that now? How do I know you’re not just saying those things to keep me here?”
Catch’s eyes go wide. And then he starts to laugh, and soon that laugh grows into hysterical laughing. At one point he even bends over and is clutching his side. I stand there watching him with my arms crossed over my chest. As enjoyable as the sound is, and as tingly as it makes me feel, I don’t find anything about what I just said funny.
When he finally gets ahold of himself I ask, “Are you finished?” He nods as he wipes away a few tears.
“Trust me, Blaze, if you weren’t in a shitload of trouble I would have dropped your ass off at your car and never looked back.” The humor is gone and now he’s staring at me with his steely grey eyes.
“Why do you care? If you are so certain that I need protecting then why are you protecting me?”
Catch slowly starts walking towards me. The closer he gets the faster my heart rate increases. I drop my arms down by my sides and clench my fist into tight little balls. When he steps into my personal space I take a few steps back and then I hit the door. He never stops advancing, the whole time never breaking eye contact. They burn into me setting this fire ablaze in my chest, and as much as I want to look away I just can’t do it.
No man has ever looked at me like he is going to devour me whole. No man has ever made me feel like the prey. In the past I was always the hunter.
He presses his left hand on the door next to my head, and then slowly puts his right hand up on the other side, caging me in. My hand immediately goes up to snag a piece of my hair. He catches my wrist. “Leave your fucking hair alone,” he growls. I put my hand down by my side and curl my fingers into my fist.