by Ivy Jordan
“Oh, no! Was Greg back there again?” she asked.
“No,” I replied.
“Why was he there?” she asked with a curious tone.
I could barely contain my excitement. I felt as though I’d burst as I tightened my grip on the phone. “He was just checking on me. But, he helped carry my stuff inside,” I gushed.
“Oh my God, Naomi. What did you do?” Carrie said with a chuckle.
I laughed at her insinuation. “Not that!”
“Well, why on earth are you so giddy?” she questioned.
“We made a date for Saturday night. I’m going to make him dinner,” I said proudly.
“Oh wow. I’m so jealous. Maybe I should get arrested to find a good guy,” she giggled.
A good guy. That’s what Carter was: a good guy. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice, and feel it in his actions.
“I’m nervous,” I admitted.
“Why?” she asked.
“It’s just weird. Isn’t it? Is it weird?” I stammered.
Carrie giggled on the other end of my phone. “You need to relax. He is gorgeous, he dedicates his life to protecting others, and he’s been there every day since Greg attacked you, so he obviously likes you,” she assured me.
That was all true. But, I was still nervous as hell.
Chapter Three
I tossed the grocery bags on my kitchen counter and rushed into the shower. Carter was supposed to be there in an hour, and even though he’d seen me plenty of times right after work, tonight was special.
I’d thought about calling his number, even just sending a text, but I couldn’t find a good reason. I found myself hoping all week that Greg would show up again, just so I’d have a good excuse to talk to Carter. Those few precious moments that I’d see him patrol my neighborhood were all I’d had. I was ready to have some alone time with the handsome cop that had almost arrested me. Yes, I am ready for that!
My long blonde hair was too thick to dry, so I pulled it back into a ponytail and dabbed foundation on my face. Mascara brought out my eyes, and even though everyone told me how blue eyeshadow made my eyes pop, I decided to keep my look more casual. Pink lipstick perfectly applied to my lips, and I was digging through my closet for something casual, yet sexy, to wear.
I settled on a white sundress to show off my California tan and a pair of flat sandals, and rushed into the kitchen.
Thirty minutes and Carter would be there, and I had nothing started. It’s okay, Naomi, you’re great under pressure.
My special dinner was planned to hopefully not scare Carter off of healthy cooking. For all I knew, he ate greasy burgers every night.
The water finally started to boil, so I tossed in the whole grain pasta with just a pinch of salt. I peeled and deveined the shrimp, and then started on my famous sea salt kale chips.
The doorbell rang, causing me to jump and slice a small piece of my finger. Shit!
I wrapped a paper towel around the cut and moved towards my front door.
Carter stood on my front porch, even hotter out of uniform than in. He held a bouquet of fresh lilies in his hand and wore a smile that could melt an igloo.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, looking towards the blood-soaked paper towel.
“It’s just a nick,” I said quickly, opening the door wide enough for him to enter.
“Let me see,” he said, gripping my hand in his.
A tingle shot through my body as our hands touched, and my heart swelled at the kindness in his eyes as he unwrapped my finger.
“Let’s get this cleaned,” he said, moving me towards the kitchen.
I didn’t argue. I did as he said, loving the gentleness of his touch and the concern in his voice.
He ran cold water over my wound, and then rewrapped it in a clean towel. “Do you have Band-Aids?” he asked.
“In the bathroom,” I said, starting to head that way.
“No. You sit here. Just hold this, add pressure, but not too much,” he ordered.
“There, above the sink,” I explained.
As he walked away, my heart raced at the thought of what he might see in my bathroom. I lived alone, barely had visitors—with the exception of Carrie—so tampons, birth control pills, and vaginal yeast cream had never been a concern until now.
I was relieved he reappeared into the kitchen so quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed any of my personal hygiene items on his search for Band-Aids.
He sat me down at the table, scooting his chair in front of mine. He carefully unwrapped my towel, smeared antibiotic ointment that he’d found in my messy bathroom medicine chest onto my finger, and then tightly wrapped the Band-Aid around it.
“There. All better,” he chuckled.
“Thank you,” I said softly, feeling a tingle between my legs as he stared into my eyes.
“Oh, no!” I exclaimed, jumping up from my seat and rushing to the oven. I opened the door to perfectly crisp kale chips, and the aroma of the salty treats filling the kitchen quickly.
“That smells amazing,” he said.
“Wait until you try them. You’ll never eat potato chips again,” I boasted.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, looking around my kitchen.
“You can put those in water,” I said sweetly as I motioned to the flowers on the table, and then reached under the sink for a vase.
He smiled and grabbed the vase, filling it with cold water. He found a pair of kitchen shears, snipped the ends, and arranged them in the vase before sitting it in the center of the table. “Beautiful,” I sighed, staring at them with appreciation. Greg never brought me flowers.
“Can I help you with dinner?” he asked.
I hesitated, not because I couldn’t use the help, but because I wasn’t sure if he knew his way around a kitchen or not. He was young, a cop, and well, a man. Most men I knew ate TV dinners and fast food for a reason.
“If you’re scared I can’t cook, I can assure you I can,” he said proudly.
“Okay, then. Chop up those veggies while I heat the oil,” I replied.
He didn’t skip a beat, grabbing a knife and perfectly dicing the onions and peppers I’d had on the counter. He chopped the asparagus into small pieces and then sliced the mushrooms. He didn’t need any direction.
“Impressed?” he asked with a chuckle. I stared at him with what I was certain a surprised expression, even though I tried to hide it.
“Yes.”
“Good,” he said.
I strained the pasta, added it to the heated pan with shrimp, and then tossed in the veggies just long enough to heat them, but keep them nice and crisp.
“Wine?” he asked, handing me a glass already poured.
“Yes, please,” I agreed, accepting his offer.
He poured himself a glass while I made our plates, and I caught him sneaking another kale chip before we sat down. “You like them?” I asked.
He grinned. “Yes. Should I ask what they are?” he teased.
“Kale,” I said, laughing at his expression of disgust.
“Well, if you’d told me beforehand, I don’t think I would’ve tried them’” he admitted.
He complimented me over and over for my cooking, and I continued to remind him that he had helped. I wasn’t sure what to talk about. I barely knew him, and the only thing we had in common was Greg.
“So, are you staying safe?” he asked, breaking the ice, but of course leading the conversation around Greg.
“Yes. I’ve not had any problems,” I replied.
“He was never like that before?” he asked, surprised.
“He was always jealous and controlling, but never what I’d call ‘abusive,’” I answered, clearing the table of our dinner plates.
“You need to steer clear of those kinds; they always escalate,” he warned.
I couldn’t really picture Greg as an abuser, or dangerous. That day had been a bad day. It was not like him.
“He couldn’t handle me leav
ing the gym,” I explained. “When I decided to go on my own, I think it scared him. And, he didn’t like the idea of me working so closely with clients, in their homes, ya know?” I added.
“You’re a grown woman. You should be able to do what you want. That’s where trust comes in, I guess,” he sighed, finishing his wine. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you at the gym before. I know I’ve seen Greg,” he said calmly.
“I’ve never seen you there,” I said.
“You may’ve just not noticed me,” he replied.
“No. I think I would’ve noticed you,” I smiled.
He stood from the table, his tight t-shirt clinging to his hard chest and his jeans hanging just perfectly around his hips. Yes, I would’ve noticed Carter.
“I just think you’re too pretty, too smart for a guy like that,” he said.
My cheeks blushed with heat, my eyes widened, and a smile smeared across my face that I couldn’t control. “Thank you,” I whispered.
I wasn’t ready for the night to end, not yet. “Would you like to watch a movie?” I asked.
It was obvious he was ready to make his move, but I wasn’t ready, not yet. “Yes. I’d love to,” he agreed.
He filled our glasses with more wine and followed me into the living room. I turned on the TV. We decided on Tombstone, a movie we both professed to love. We settled into the couch, side-by-side, and Carter put his arm around me. It was nice.
Since we’d both seen the movie, we spent most of the time talking. I found out he was never married, and only had one serious relationship before. I told him how Greg was my first real boyfriend too, moving me from my hometown in Seattle to Los Angeles. He was twenty-seven, only four years older, and about what I assumed. Born and raised in Los Angeles, Carter still visited his mother every Sunday morning for breakfast, but didn’t mention his dad.
We found ourselves in each other’s arms, snuggled together on the couch as we talked. Being with Carter was easy, like we’d known each other forever.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly.
Our eyes were locked together, and I lost myself in the dark brown entrances to his soul. I couldn’t speak, but nodded as he moved toward me.
Our lips met, sending sparks of electricity through my entire body, and swelling my breasts against the thin white sundress.
His tongue slowly slid across my lips, as if tasting them as they parted. My body pushed into him, embracing him tightly with my arms, entangling our tongues together, and savoring the sweet flavor of his passion.
Carter was gentle, but passionate, leaning me back onto the couch cushion and pressing his weight onto me. His hands slid along my sides, caressing my hips and tracing my curves as his excitement grew obvious against my thigh.
The heat of the moment was making me dizzy with ecstasy, and as Carter’s hand slid up my leg, dangerously close to my inner thigh, I let out a sigh.
I wanted him to touch me, to feel my slippery excitement beneath my silk panties, but I knew it was too soon.
My body battled with my mind as I ground into him, enjoying the sensation of his hard cock pressed against me, and yearning for it to be inside my aching pussy.
No, Naomi, it’s too soon, that annoying voice in my head nagged.
His mouth moved from my lips, leaving them parted with soft sighs escaping as his lips sucked onto my sensitive neck. My hips rocked, my back arched, and his hardness pressed into my leg so hard it hurt.
Oh God, this was happening, and I didn’t know if I could stop it, or if I wanted to stop it.
His mouth lowered, kissing gently at the flesh just above my breast until reaching the small mounds on my chest covered only by the thin sundress. My nipples were erect, pushing out from the material and making it easy for his mouth to consume them.
A moan rolled from my throat and into the room, startling me to hear my own passion echo against the walls.
His lips tightened around my nipple, his teeth slowly and gently gripping it, tugging just enough to make me squeal.
My entire body tingled, an ache grew between my legs as my pussy swelled against the damp panties I’d chosen for that special date with Carter. Were they about to be wadded on the floor? Was I really letting this happen?
Carter’s hand slid between us as he lifted his weight from my body. It inched its way slowly up my leg, caressing my skin and teasing me as it neared the source of heat between my legs.
I didn’t stop him; I didn’t want to. My legs parted, inviting him to continue his journey. His fingers slid across the silk of my panties, causing my pussy to twitch with excitement, and then slid the material over, letting the cool air of the room tease my bare skin.
One finger slid between my plump lips, and then slid inside my warm hole. Oh God, I wanted this!
Slowly, Carter’s finger fucked me with a steady rhythm, nearly bringing me to climax before my mind took back over.
“I can’t,” I said softly, sliding up into a sitting position and pulling away from his skillful finger. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling horrible for letting things go this far.
Carter looked disappointed, and then his eyes filled with fear. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you; it’s just that I…just, oh, fuck,” he gasped, pushing his head into his hands.
“No. I wanted this. Trust me, if we knew each other a little better, this would’ve been the perfect ending to a perfect night,” I assured him.
He looked at me with his dark, soulful eyes. “You sure?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I understand. I’m usually not this forward. Just that kiss, damn—it got me,” he said, shaking his head and letting out a deep sigh.
I knew exactly what he meant. It got me, too.
“I think we better call it a night,” he said sweetly, standing and extending his hand to me.
I placed my hand in his, feeling the calluses of his hard work, and let him pull me to my feet for one last kiss. I hated to leave his warm embrace, and the kiss, when ended, left me weak in the knees, and wetter between the legs than I’d ever been from such simple foreplay.
“I’ll call you,” he said softly, leaving me with one last peck on the lips.
Chapter Four
“Where are you?” Carrie asked.
I held the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I unloaded my bag of items onto the conveyor belt at the health food store. “Guess,” I laughed.
“Are you making Carter another healthy dinner?” she asked cheerfully.
“No, just picking up stuff for myself,” I groaned.
“I thought your date had gone great,” she questioned.
“Maybe not as great as I thought.” I tried laughing off my disappointment.
Carter had called that night, letting me know he made it home safe, and thanking me for the dinner, movie, and what he teasingly called dessert.
Our contact had been very little since then, mainly just a few short texts, and a few moments while he was on patrol.
“I’m sorry, girl. Maybe he just wanted to get laid; he is a man, after all,” Carrie laughed.
“Yes. A hotter-than-hell man. Ugh, I should’ve just done it,” I growled.
Carrie’s laughter lightened my mood and made the cashier give me an odd look as she eavesdropped on our conversation.
I paid for my food, told Carrie I’d call her later, and started across the parking lot to my car.
“Hey,” Greg’s familiar voice caused me to turn around.
He was walking towards me, his arms puffed up like balloons, and his neck nearly lost in his shoulders. “Greg, you’re not supposed to be near me,” I reminded him.
“Fuck your little pig’s paper,” he laughed.
“What do you want?” I asked, pushing my groceries into my backseat.
“I saw your little piggy’s truck in the driveway last weekend,” he scoffed.
I should’ve known one of his little spies would’ve been watching.
“You stalking
me now?” I asked, giving him a warning look.
“I don’t need to stalk you. I figured you’d give it up to get yourself outta trouble,” he snarled. “Gotta keep em’ close enough to get away with assault,” he chuckled.
I couldn’t imagine what I’d seen in him. He wasn’t what I’d consider good looking, at least not now. He was in great shape, but his muscles were becoming more of a disfigurement than a flattering asset, and his eyes were filled with anger and hate. “Greg, you need to leave before I call the cops,” I warned. “You were the one who assaulted me, and my bruises proved that,” I added, turning to walk towards my driver’s door.
It was the first time—well, second time—that I’d been afraid of Greg. With my back turned on him, there was a nagging feeling that he’d lunge for me, or grab me by my ponytail before I got into my car, but he didn’t. I watched him walk away toward his truck as I sat in the driver’s seat, staring into the rearview mirror. He was just jealous, not dangerous. Whatever that was at the house when Carter had saved the day, it was over, never to happen again.
I was still shaken as I continued to convince myself that Greg wasn’t a threat when my phone rang, startling me. It was Carter, just a little late to interrupt my encounter with Greg.
I slid my thumb across the screen to answer, excited that he was calling. Maybe he wanted to make plans, I thought. Man, what I wouldn’t do to be in his strong arms where my world felt safe.
“Hello,” I answered, my voice still a little shaken.
“Hey there, everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes. You’re just a few minutes late,” I chuckled nervously.
“Late? For what?” he asked.
“I just saw Greg as I left the store,” I explained.
“Did he approach you?” he questioned.
“Yeah. He was pretty nasty, too, but I reminded him of the restraining order, and he left,” I stated, leaving out the part where he scoffed at the paper.
“I can call it in, have him picked up,” Carter said, his voice strong with authority.
“That’s not necessary. Why add fuel to the fire?” I replied calmly.
“Are you sure?” he pushed.