Bump & Grind (Brewed Moon Book 1)

by J. Margot Critch

  Mitch noted his movement. "You okay?"

  "Yeah, I think so. I’m cut, but I’m not sure what it’s from," he stripped off his shirt in the confined space of the back seat and awkwardly turned his back to show his Mitch.

  Mitch reached up and turned on the overhead light in the back seat and touched the injury delicately. "Looks like you might have cut it on the fence. It looks pretty deep, but it's not bleeding too much."

  He turned to Joe, who was driving. "Joe, how’s it looking? Do we have a tail?”

  Joe’s eyes looked up and he regarded them through the rear-view mirror. “None that I can see.”

  “Well, make sure and get us back to the war room," he commanded, his voice rough. He looked at his brother, his lips a hard line. "We'll patch you up when we get there."

  Chapter 14

  Peter hissed, pulling a quick draw of air between his teeth, as Joe pierced him with a needle to begin stitching up the cut to his back. They could have gone to the hospital, but it was easier, more discreet and less paperwork for them to take care of it themselves. Joe was a trained medic from his time in the military, and he had no qualms about providing first aid from time to time. Peter watched Mitch pace the room, radiating tension. Any moment of levity or brotherly love that they’d reached in the car was long gone and Peter could tell that Mitch was in full-on boss mode.

  "You know, I'm letting you off easy here," Mitch dragged his fingers through his short, dark hair. He stopped pacing and stood directly in front of Peter, as he straddled a backwards chair. "We could have been killed," Mitch continued. "Getting out of the car, going closer, was irresponsible. It wasn't part of the plan."

  Peter seethed, silently, while looking directly at Mitch. Mitch had given him all of a two minute reprieve once they got back to the war room before riding his ass again. He turned a defiant eye to his brother. "Isn't the plan to take down the O’Connell’s? I mean, if we can dismantle one of the biggest Russian families while we're at it then all the better, but the first step in doing that is finding out what kind of business dealings they have. Getting closer was the only way for us to get pictures and listen in. If you haven’t noticed, it seems as if the O’Connell’s are involving themselves in human trafficking. So that means we can’t just fuck around here. People are at risk of being exploited and time is suddenly of the essence here.”

  "You think I don’t understand that? You think I want that to happen? But we have to be more careful. We have to be smart. We have to plan, work together. You just can't fly off half-cocked, doing whatever you want," Mitch stopped in front of him, scolding. "It’s my job to make sure that every man in this room comes back alive from every mission. We're a team, and if you don't get that anymore, for the safety of everyone in this room, maybe we need to think about replacing you."

  Peter looked squarely at his brother, as did the other two men in the room. Nobody said a word, and Joe's hands on Peter's back had stopped. Those were fighting words.

  Steve was the first to speak, breaking the tense silence. He stood near Mitch. "Listen, guys. Maybe we should all just take a bit of a break. From the case, from each other. We've all been cooped up in here for a while, and we didn’t have much R and R after our last case before we took this one.” He raised his palms. “Things are getting a bit too tense."

  Mitch pondered that and nodded. "That's not a bad idea, Steve. Why don't we all take the rest of the night and tomorrow on our own? We can work our own leads and clear our heads before we regroup."

  Peter still said nothing. They really didn’t have time to take a day off, especially if the O’Connell’s were interested in human trafficking. But Steve and Mitch were both right. In order to work together fluidly as a team, it was imperative that they didn’t kill each other in the meantime. They wouldn’t be able to help anyone if they were too distracted by infighting. He nodded in agreement.

  Peter felt Joe's nimble fingers as they continued to work at stitching the deep cut in his back, which ran from between his shoulder blades to his lower back, which he figured had probably been caused by a serrated edge of chain link fence, and not a bullet. When Joe was finished, he applied a think bandage to the stitches and patted Peter on the shoulder. “Good as new.”

  Without a word, Peter stood and walked to his locker. Reaching inside, he took out a new shirt and pulled it over his head. Not taking his eyes from his brother, he picked up his things from his desk - cell phone, wallet, gun, badge and his car keys, and without saying a word, he headed to the door. He left the police station and got in his car and pulled away from the curb, leaving his brother and teammates in his wake.

  Chapter 15

  The pounding was what woke Erica. She checked her cell phone to see the time: 1:34 a.m. Dazed, she sat up in her bed. She heard the noise again. Someone pounding on the door. She frowned and grabbed her silk robe and tied the belt. Azura. She’d had a gig and Erica was certain that her ditzy roommate must have forgotten her keys again. I should leave her out there. It’s the only way she’ll learn, Erica grumbled sleepily, knowing that she wouldn’t actually do such a thing.

  Erica looked through the peephole. Safety first. Standing outside her door, she saw Peter, he looked restless and edgy. He had his fingers locked in his hair behind his head, looking down at the floor. She pulled open the door.

  “Peter, are you okay?”

  He looked at her strangely. He said nothing. Instead, he took a step and wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in the fiercest hug she’d ever experienced. He was almost crushing her and she didn’t care. Her eyes widened and her arms locked around his neck, holding him as fiercely as he was holding her. She was thrown for a loop by the ordinarily strong man, who she was now convinced would fall apart into small pieces if she dared let him go.

  Her arms moved down to wrap around his middle, and her fingers smoothed over his muscles, until they hit a soft bulge under his t-shirt. “Peter,” she pulled away gently. “What is that? What happened?”

  He pulled her back into his embrace. “I’ve had a really bad night,” he murmured into her hair. “Can I come in?”

  She pulled back her head to look at his face. The look in his eyes was desperate. He looked like a man who needed the comfort of a woman. She brought a palm to his scruffy cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. “Of course you can come in.” She took his hand in hers and led her into his apartment.

  “Is Azura home?” he whispered, as they walked through the hallway of the small apartment, nearing her bedroom.

  “No, she’s playing a gig. She probably won’t be home for a couple of hours.”

  “That’s good. I didn’t even think about her being here when I came pounding on the door,” he told her when they entered her room. “I’m sorry I woke you.” He stood in the center of her small bedroom, looking everywhere and radiating nervous energy.

  “I’m glad you did,” she let her robe slide slowly down her shoulders before dropping to the floor, revealing that she was naked underneath.

  His eyes stilled on her.

  “What’s wrong?” She asked him.

  “You sleep in the nude?”

  “I do. I’ve always found pajamas too confining. The way they bunch up in the sheets just drives me crazy.” Erica pulled back her bed sheets and slipped underneath, the linen cool on her skin which had heated in Peter’s close proximity. She noticed that he still stood in the center of her room. Not moving. She patted the space on the bed next to her in invitation.

  That snapped him from his trance. He took several steps to her bed, and winced when he reached up behind his neck to pull his shirt over his head. His chest never failed to make her stomach flutter in appreciation. Next, his hands dropped to the fly of his jeans. He unsnapped them and lowered the zipper, never taking his eyes from hers. In a quick movement, his jeans and boxers were discarded on the floor and he was slipping into bed beside her.

  He reached over and pushed her hair behind her ear. The gentle touch
sent waves of pleasure throughout her body. “Thank you for letting me in tonight.”

  “Well, I certainly couldn’t leave you out in the hallway pounding on the door, now could I?” she smiled. “What would the neighbours think?”

  He drew her face closer to his. She closed her eyes and felt his feather-light kiss against her lips, her chin, her cheeks. She sighed and he dropped his mouth to her neck. He kissed the unknown-before-Peter erogenous spot at the crook of her neck and shoulder, and she shuddered and wrapped her fingers in his long hair, pulling him closer.

  Her hands smoothed over his shoulders, until she hit the edge of the large bandage that covered much of his back. She pulled away slightly, and attempted to get a look at his back. “You weren’t kidding when you said you had a bad night. What happened to you?” she asked him, delicately fingering the gauze.

  Without saying a word, he reached back and took her hands, and he gently lowered her to her back to the mattress, pinning her softly. “Don’t worry about that. Everything’s okay now,” he murmured through his kisses.

  That answer didn’t satisfy her, and she saw through his attempt to distract her. She tried to push him up, but he wouldn’t relent. “Were you hurt? Who hurt you?” Something wasn’t quite right. The guy’s a security guard, what could have happened to him?

  In response, his fingers blazed a trail down her ribs, over her belly until he found her warm, wet center. He wasn’t going to tell her. He stroked her and she gave a soft cry. And it was all it took. That quickly, Erica forgot about her line of questioning and the bandage on his back while his masterful fingers thrummed rhythmically on her clit. She looked into his steel blue eyes. It felt like he was looking right into her. She felt her orgasm building and knew that she couldn’t last much longer. And at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to come with the man who made her feel such intense bliss.

  Shifting slightly so she could reach into the drawer of the bedside table to grab a condom without breaking their connection. “Now,” she whispered, handing it to him. “I need you now.”

  Peter kissed her deeply before taking the condom from her fingertips. Her tongue twined with his and she closed her eyes, in a matter of seconds, she could feel his hard length ready for her, and she shifted her hips to give him more direct access and he easily pushed inside of her with one solid thrust.

  Still kissing her, Peter growled into her mouth. She fully understood how he felt. The connection she felt with Peter was more powerful, more basic, more primal than she had ever experienced. He pulled his hips back and just as powerfully, he pushed back inside. He was forceful, hard. And she had trouble catching her breath. Erica raised her hips, to match the frenzied pace he’d set. But it was only a couple of minutes before Erica once again felt her orgasm rising. She closed her eyes, and arched her back, pushing her chest into his. She felt his hands, warm on either side of her face.

  “Don’t close your eyes,” he demanded through clenched teeth. “Keep them on me.”

  She nodded as she felt herself crest in ecstasy, and she came with a force that shook her body, but her eyes stayed open on him. With one more push, Peter came, erupting with an exacting grunt before he collapsed onto her, his weight pleasant and comforting, and his lips once again met hers.

  But this time, he touched her softly, reverently. Like she was a precious idol, to be treasured. He kissed her so tenderly that she wanted to cry. Gone was the fierce, dominant lover she had known, and he was replaced by the tender, gentle man who lay in her arms. He shifted to the side and rested his head on her chest. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His fingers traced lazy circles around her stomach, up her ribs to the bottoms of her breasts, and then back down.

  Peter hadn’t told her anything about what had happened to him earlier that night. Nor had he explained the huge bandage covering a large amount of his back. All she knew was that he needed somebody, and she was that somebody. She would be there for him at any time of day, in any way he needed her.

  “Your body is so amazing,” he whispered in her darkened room. “So sexy.”

  She laughed. Her body issues were mostly a thing of the past. But as Peter focused his attention on her tummy, she found herself shying away slightly. “Oh, please,” she said, attempting to pull the sheet over herself. "You’re just saying that because I let you get me naked.”

  He looked up at her; she could make out his playful gaze in the dark. “I’ve gotten plenty of girls naked, and they couldn’t even hope to compare to you.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not even going to ask how many,” she teased.

  “Please don’t,” he laughed. “Nor will I ask you.”

  “Greatly appreciated,” she said with a smile.

  His voice turned serious. “But it’s true. You are by far the sexiest woman I’ve ever been with.” His hand skimmed over her body, warming her skin from her breasts down to her thighs. “You have all of these amazingly soft curves.” He put his mouth into the crease of her neck, and kissed her pulse point lightly.

  “Soft?” she scoffed. “You mean chubby. I’m certain of it.”

  He pulled away and looked up at her, frowning. His brow drew down. “You need to stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Putting yourself down. You’re perfect. And you should know it.” He kissed her shoulder. “All women are beautiful, but it’s hard to stay in the moment when smashing your hips right into bone because a woman’s got no meat on her.”

  “More cushion for pushin’?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, kind of.”

  “It’s nice of you to say that, but let me tell you, it’s hard being a bigger girl. And as a former fat kid, having these gorgeous, tall, thin friends I always felt like the dumpy one.”

  He shook his head, disbelief in her lack of confidence. He opened his mouth to say something, but she stopped him, putting her fingers over his lips.

  “Just don’t. Let me finish? I don’t hate my looks, and I love myself. I know I look pretty good, okay?” she tried to reassure him. “And most of the time, I’m completely comfortable with my body. But it’s a struggle, you know. Some days, I just feel like wearing sweats and pigging out on Doritos, instead of working out or dancing.”

  “And I’m sure you look stunning doing either,” he told her, his lips on her shoulder, moving to her collarbone, and back to her neck.

  She sighed at the feel of his lips on her skin, the way his rough stubble abraded her. “Well, aren’t you a charmer?” she asked, drawing her fingers through his perpetually disheveled hair. “And it’s sweet for you to think so. But thinking that bigger girls are more desirable definitely puts you in a minority. There are so many challenges for women and girls who aren’t 5’9”, 115 pounds. Especially with the internet. You’ve got teenagers Instagramming their thigh gap and bikini bridge-”

  “Bikini bridge? What is that?” he interrupted her, eyebrows again drawn down in question. She was beginning to think that Peter’s face would someday be stuck in a frown.

  She took his hand and placed it on her pelvic bone. “It’s when a girl’s wearing a bikini and the material forms a bridge over the concavity of her tummy, next to her hip bone.”

  “That’s not an actual thing, is it?” he asked, with a grimace.

  “Unfortunately, it is. And it just sets up these unrealistic expectations, for girls because some will go to any lengths to look like that, whether it’s physically possible, or not, because guys see that and that’s what they expect a girl to look like. And life is already hard enough when you’re a teenager.”

  “Watching you move on stage… and in bed,” he added with a grin.” I never would have suspected that you struggled with your body image.”

  “Well, like I said, I’m body positive, but some days are harder than others. It was bad when I was a teenager; I struggled to lose weight. It was tough because no matter what I did, I was still a bigger, curvy girl. So no amount of starving myself, or working ou
t until I puked, or smoking away the cravings would ever make me a size two. But it’s gotten easier since I started dancing. I’ve learned to embrace my God-given curves. And as I’ve demonstrated for you, I’ve learned to work it pretty well,” she finished with a wink.

  She looked at Peter, he was quiet. She laughed nervously. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I told you all of that. I didn’t mean to unload on you. It’s just that when I start talking sometimes, I can’t stop. Why didn’t you stop me?”

  “I like listening to you. And I’m glad you told me.” He looked at her with softness, concern in his eyes, no longer with the hard, dangerous eyes that she had known. Peter shifted so that he was kneeling between her spread legs. He turned on the lamp and looked down at her. She once again found herself fully exposed to him. But, unlike any other man she’d been with, she was comfortable, calm. With him, she knew that she didn’t have to fold her arms over her stomach because she was afraid he would think she was fat. She didn’t have to hide her curves. He made her want to flaunt them. With awe in his eyes, he looked her up and down several times, devouring her with his gaze, while his large hands stroked her thighs.

  “You’re perfect, Erica,” he bent over her and he placed a soft kiss between her breasts. “Every inch of you is absolutely,” he drew a stiff nipple into his mouth, “undeniably,” he took the other between his lips, before bringing his mouth back up to hers. “Perfect.”

  Peter kissed his way over her jaw. To her neck, where he bit and nipped at all of the places he already knew her to be most sensitive. He already knew every part of her. Her skin was delicious, he couldn’t get enough, and he yearned to taste her all over.

  When he'd knocked on her door earlier that night, he was a desperate man. He didn’t know if it was the close call they’d had in the alley or because he’d fought with his brother, but he’d needed her. He’d needed to hold her, and to be held. When she had opened the door, all of the fear, desperation, and stress melted away. When he had made love to her, it was for him. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d needed her more than he’d ever needed a woman. It was selfish, but he couldn’t deny it. But this moment, this would be strictly for her. He needed her to see and feel how beautiful and amazing and sexy she was. If she didn’t believe him when he said it, he would show her.