Sunrise came with the soft bell tones of her alarm. Rolling over and hugging her pillow, she snuggled more deeply into the soft, warm sheets. She was so comfortable, she might’ve been dead. Drifting back to sleep, she sank into the remnants of a delicious dream. Koivu. What an unexpected treat. She could almost smell his cologne, rich and subtle, clinging to the damp skin of his chest. She could almost feel his mouth trailing sensuous kisses along the curve of her spine before settling in the dimple above her butt. Mmm . . .
Her alarm sounded again and she grumbled at the intrusion. God, she was so tired she could barely move. Just a few more minutes of sleep . . .
“Are you going to get that?” The soft question was accompanied by a calloused palm sliding around to cup her breast. He curled around her back and swept her hair aside to nuzzle the nape of her neck. The soft scratch of his whiskers sent a swift curl of arousal through her.
She sat up so fast she nearly knocked him to the floor. Not a dream!
“Are you not a morning person?” he asked with a throaty chuckle. Propping himself up on one elbow, he studied her naked curves with lazy intensity. The sheet hovered just below his waist, giving her a delicious view of his golden happy trail, and a teasing glimpse of the plump tip of his cock. His lips curled into the tiniest of smirks as he brushed the sheet aside to stroke his morning erection. “Me? I love mornings.” Jutting above his tight abs, his cock bobbed with impatience as he idly scratched his belly and yawned.
The silence stretched until her alarm startled her into speaking. “Koivu, I . . . we shouldn’t have done this. God, I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Do you still feel my arms around you? My sweat on your skin? My cock buried deep inside you? Because I do, Micki. When I close my eyes, you’re all I feel.”
She flushed with remembered pleasure and mortification at how she’d responded last night. “That doesn’t matter.”
“It’s all that matters. Come back to bed, baby.” He held out his hand, the gesture casual, but his tone was anything but. Gravelly with sleepiness, his voice promised pleasure and more sleep. Her gaze lingered on the sight of his hand stroking his cock, the motion lazy yet undeniably sexy. The memory of how that hand had played her body last night made her knees weak. His hand stilled. His smile turned wicked.
“I . . . I, um, should get a shower.”
He rolled smoothly from the bed and caught her by the elbows before she could protest. Drawing her to his chest, he dipped his head, nudging her hair away from her face, murmuring, “A shower sounds amazing,” as he ran his lips along her throat.
It was impossible to think with his cock brushing against her mound, impatiently nudging her sensitive clit. Her damn legs spread apart without any encouragement and before she knew it her hips rolled towards him, getting the angle just right. He didn’t say another word; he simply walked her backwards into the shower stall and flipped on the water.
His hands were gentle this morning. Caressing her shoulders, running down her arms, caging her waist, he worshiped every inch of her. Slowly and reverently, he dragged his hands up her ribcage, until his thumbs rested beneath her breasts. Her nipples pebbled, arching shamelessly towards his fingers, desperate for their touch.
He pressed his nose to hers and smiled softly before taking her mouth in a tender kiss that quickened her pulse and destroyed any reservations she might have had. His magnificent body was ripped and hard beneath her hands, straining against her softness . . . the contrast was erotic and unbelievably beautiful, as steam drifted around them. She lay her head back against the cool glass and let the fantasy take over.
Koivu had fallen asleep and woken up in paradise. Blinking awake with Micki lying curled in his arms and sporting a raging hard-on, he knew he couldn’t leave her. There were words to be said, expectations to meet. He wouldn’t leave her feeling used, and she might if he didn’t handle things right. He’d fucked her on every flat surface in her house. Their passion had been so intense that he’d lost count of the number of times. This woman was starved for pleasure, and he’d wanted to give her more than she could handle. Even now, in the tiny glass shower, she was dissolving under his touch and he wasn’t even trying very hard. Her head lay back to expose her graceful neck and delicate collarbones. Her cloud of pale red hair hung in dark, red strands to the center of her back. Thick lashes shadowed her cheeks. With her luscious mouth parted in pleasure, she was more angel than human, fragile, ethereal, a goddess in the soft light. A passionate, gorgeous goddess who demanded his touch, and for the first time in years, he was captivated by a woman’s breathless cries.
Chapter 7: Shattered Glass
Sunday night dinners were a Glass family tradition. Micki’s mother had four kids and expected each of them to show her the respect she’d earned by coming for dinner after mass. Her parents were good, faithful Catholics. They absolutely did not miss mass—ever. Death and childbirth were the only legitimate excuses available. Micki was raised in the church, but to her mother’s shame fell short of being faithful. Her brothers—Danny, Marcus, and Brody—were just as lax, but got much less grief about it. Apparently women needed communion more than men. Ha! On Sundays, since she rarely went to mass and was the only female child, Micki was expected to show up early to help her mother in the kitchen. Sexist? Maybe. In her family, male and female roles were crystal clear and written in stone. Her father, and later her three brothers, did the manly work; they mowed the tiny lawn, repaired the ancient Toyota, and unplugged anything that was stopped up. Her father could fix anything that had the balls to break down in this house. He passed that love of problem solving on to his sons. Back in school, when other girls snickered about her parents old-fashioned values, Micki only smiled. She wouldn’t trade her parents for the world. She was comfortable with old-fashioned. Her mother always said that men should be men. Micki tended to agree. She wasn’t interested in academic, polished, or glamorous men. She liked strong, arrogant men who were a little rough around the edges. Most of the time, anyway.
“Hi, Mom!” Danny exploded into the gorgeous new kitchen and caught Micki around the neck in a strangely affectionate chokehold. “Hey, baby sister.”
She dropped the mixing spoon and elbowed him in the gut. “Get off me, you moron! Can’t you see I’m working here? This potato salad’s not going to make itself.”
“Daniel.” Their mother tsked him from her side of the cluttered marble island and chided firmly, “That’s no way to greet your sister. You have no manners?”
Danny gave Micki a little shove and laughed, “She’s my sister, not the queen of England.” He talked a cocky game, but politely handed her spoon back and patted her on the head. “How’d your date go? I see you’re alive.”
Their mom perked up at the word date. “You had a date? Oh, baby, I’m so happy for you! Tell me all about him! Is he Irish? Is he Catholic? What parish is he from?”
All the important questions! Micki smacked Danny with the mayonnaise-covered spoon, hissing, “Thanks, jerk!”
“Yeah, Micki, tell us about your date,” her youngest brother, Marcus, chimed in from the dining room doorway. “Joey says you left the bar with—”
Her sharp gasp cut off his words. Was he a complete idiot? They had an unspoken agreement as siblings; no one shared their social adventures with their mother. Her disapproval was nearly a physical blow. None of them wanted to be on the receiving end. Marcus flushed a brilliant scarlet that clashed horribly with his carrot-colored hair. He cringed at the fiery glare in Micki’s eyes.
Mom set down her carving knife, the brisket forgotten. Her eagle eyes darted between her three children, assessing guilt, assigning blame, probably counting off the expected Hail Mary’s in her mind. “What bar?”
“Yeah, what bar?” This question came from the other side of the screen door. “Who’d you leave with, Micki?”
Micki groaned inwardly and turned around with her heart in her stomach. “What are you doing he
re, Jake?”
Her brothers turned into a couple of guard dogs, heading straight to the backdoor with hands clenched into fists. “You have some nerve!” Danny snarled on his way through the door. “I’ll beat your fucking ass!”
“Daniel!” Mom scolded.
“It’s fine, Mom. Danny, back off!” Micki pushed past Danny to tow Jake to the other end of the plant-covered porch. “Are you nuts? My brothers are just waiting for an excuse to beat the hell out of you. Why would you come here?”
His dark eyes glinted with a meanness that he usually reserved for opponents in the cage. His hands were clenched into fists at his side. He was clearly pissed off. Despite being in full view of the Callahan’s after church cookout crowd, he grabbed her by both arms and hauled her up against the side of the house. “You won’t see me, but you’re out fucking around with someone else?”
“Yo, Micki! You okay?” Danny’s buddy, Jamie, hollered from his lawn chair next door. Three Callahan cousins turned to stare. One by one, they set their beers on the picnic table and got to their feet.
Oh, great. Just what she needed. A Sunday afternoon brawl in her parents’ flower beds. God only knew the Callahans were always up for a good fight. Today wasn’t the day though. She wasn’t in the mood to disappoint her mother, so she affixed a plastic smile on her face and shouted back, “I’m fine, Jamie. No worries, ‘kay?”
Jake managed a stiff smile and a nod in their direction. Jamie and his cousins watched them for another minute then went back to their grilling and beer drinking.
“Have you lost your mind? Why are you being such a dick?” She’d never seen him like this. He was beyond simply mad. He was edgy, desperate, strung out like a caged lion. “You’re hurting me. Let go.”
Instead of letting go, he crowded her closer to the wall, his breath hitting her in the face. The reek of stale cigarettes and beer made her eyes water. She wrinkled her face and tried to turn away. His fingers dug into her skin. “Who is he? Who are you fucking?”
“None of your business! You’ve got everything you wanted back in Vegas. You made your choice three years ago. Get out of my life and go home. I don’t answer to you!”
He bounced her head off of the wall, snarling dangerously, “Is it that guy who was at your house yesterday? I’ll fucking kill him!”
Her vision was spotty; her ears ringing. She opened her mouth to shout for help when he smashed his mouth over hers, crushing her lips, drawing blood while she struggled to get free. Her knee connected with his balls; he punched her in the face. Twice. She must’ve screamed because suddenly all hell broke loose. Danny and Marcus barreled out of the kitchen. The Callahans sprinted into the yard. And the spots in her vision turned into one big sunburst that swallowed her up. The last thing she saw clearly was Koivu’s furious expression and a flash of black and white.
Someone dabbed a cold washcloth over her mouth. “Stop,” she mumbled and tried to turn away. Her lip hurt. Her jaw hurt.
“Shh, honey, it’s okay now.” Her mother’s soft voice washed over her like a warm bath. “Let me look at you. You’ve got some blood here.” More dabbing. This time, the cold sensation was joined by the eye-watering, sinus-clearing reek of antiseptic.
“Ow! That stings!” She was wide awake now. She blinked into her mother’s concerned blue eyes and broke into tears. “Oh, my god! He hit me!” she sobbed. “That sonofabitch! I can’t believe he actually hit me. How could he do that?”
Before she knew it, she was engulfed in her mother’s arms and being rocked like a toddler again. “I know, honey, I know.” She smoothed her hair back in a familiar caress. “You’re going to be okay. Go ahead and let it all out.”
She buried her face against her mother’s shoulder and cried great silent tears that soaked them both. Not one for dramatics, she wasn’t a wailer or screamer. As a matter of fact, she rarely cried at all. Jake must have lost his damn mind. He’d punched her! Punched her! Even at their lowest point, she’d never thought he’d hit her. Break her heart? Yes. Physically hurt her? No. They’d had knockdown, drag out fights occasionally, but he’d never raised a hand to her. She’d beaten herself up enough for both of them.
She understood he wasn’t happy. His marriage was in trouble. He was trapped even more by a baby. Did he really think she’d let him just walk back into her life and pick up where they’d left off? Did he really expect her to be his piece of ass on the side? Screw that! She’d spent years loving this man and had ended up alone and with nothing to show for it besides a wary heart and a yearning for passionate sex.
She was on her way back from her teary breakdown when there was a slight tap on the door. Her mother stiffened and asked, “Is it done, Daniel?”
“He’s gone, Mom. Sergeant Callahan took him to the precinct.” There was a slight pause before he added with a tinge of grim amusement, “Probably stopping by the ER first, though.”
“Good.” Her mother nodded against Micki’s head, pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, and asked Danny, “Is he still waiting?”
“Yes, ma’am. Says he’s not leaving until he talks to Micki.”
“Who?” Micki untangled herself from her mother’s arms and wiped her eyes. Her brother had a bloody nose and a goose egg on his forehead. And a lot of blood on his t-shirt—too much to be from a bloody nose. “What did you do, Danny?”
He shrugged and said, “Took care of the problem. Had a little help from my boys. Jake won’t be back to bother you. I’m ready to open up a fresh can of whoop ass for the dude cooling his heels on the porch. Dad’s been grilling him for the past twenty minutes. If he steps even a toe out of line, I’m ripping his head off.”
She lurched to her feet, hands clutching her temples, dizzy but determined. “Koivu’s here?”
“Yeah, and he brought Leo with him. Says they were out for a run and happened to pass by the house.”
“Is he your date?” her mother asked with a knowing gleam in her eyes.
She couldn’t help blushing, but answered truthfully, “He’s more of a friend, Mom, but I like him.”
Her mother raised her eyebrows to her hairline. “You actually like this man? I thought you’d never get over Jake. I prayed for you to let Jake go, but you’ve been pining for years. No good can come from loving a married man.”
Her mother meant well, but her words were laced with a subtle undertone of condemnation that made Micki feel ashamed. She had loved Jake even after his wedding. It was impossible to turn off such an all-consuming passion without the blessing of time to tarnish the shine of the memories. Two days ago, she’d been terrified to see him again; terrified of her own weakness, her inability to stay unaffected by the very air he breathed. But when she finally did, she’d only felt a hollowness in her chest where her love used to be. Time really had healed her self-inflicted wounds. She thought she was done with Jake.
Now . . . she hurt so badly deep inside that she was afraid to let the pain see the light of day. It needed to stay locked up tight until she could crack it open and deal with it on her terms. If she let herself really feel, she’d be ripped apart by the same gut-wrenching heartache she’d felt three years ago. When he’d left her to get married, she’d hit rock bottom and stayed there for months. He’d left her naked, bleeding, and raw inside. She became a brittle shell of her former self. Overwhelmed with pain and impotent rage, she’d existed only because her body was too healthy to die of natural causes. She went through the motions of living, but she felt dead inside. Frustration pushed her even deeper into isolation because she wasn’t sure she could silence the shrieking woman inside if someone asked her how she was doing. Better to be alone. How could he do that to her? How could he swear his love for her and then walk away? Yeah, she’d been viciously angry. That had been three years ago though, and she was in a much better place now, thanks to her family, her therapist, and the force of her own will. But today, Jake had wounded her with his fists, tearing open old scars, ripping apart her armor, leaving her feeling raw and
naked again. She shivered and hugged herself.
“Screw you, Jake. I’m stronger than you know.” She didn’t mean to say the words out loud, but they flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. The only thing that terrified her more than getting involved with Jake was feeling like a worthless, weak, shell of a woman again.
“Micki? I’m sorry, hon; I didn’t mean to make you cry again.”
She refocused her attention on her mother and realized there was a tear slipping over one of her cheeks. Reaching up with a shaky hand, she wiped it away and forced a tremulous smile. “I’m okay, Mom. It’s . . . it’s just hard to wrap my head around what happened, that’s all. I’ll be fine.” She would be if she repeated it often enough. She’d be fine. She was okay. Everything would work out. Those were her favorite three sentences. She was stronger than she’d ever been. Sure. Absolutely.
Her mother wasn’t completely fooled. She knew her too well. “Would you like to tell me about your friend in the other room? He’s certainly fascinating to look at. His hair is so blond it’s almost white and I’ve never seen eyes like his.” She gave Micki a wink and added with a warm smile, “They’re intense, but there’s a certain wisdom lingering in them. Beautiful to look at for sure.”
Danny barked a cynical laugh. “Yeah, she’s attracted to his eyes.”
“Daniel, don’t be sarcastic,” her mother scolded with a quick maternal glare that wiped the smirk from her brother’s face. Turning back to her daughter, she asked hopefully, “Is he Catholic?”
Feeling steady again, Micki straightened her clothes and dodged her mother’s question. “I should go see him. Dad’s probably got his sidearm and handcuffs out.”
“Hey, don’t forget this.” Danny tossed an ice pack in her direction. “Keep it on your jaw for a while. You’ll bruise less.”
Koivu (Demons After Dark Book Three) Page 10