by Tate James
“How about you?” I whispered, lightly trailing my fingernails along the skin of his lower back, exposed where his shirt had ridden up.
His groan was muffled, but I heard it perfectly. I felt his cock pulse against me. I was wide awake now and more than a little warm. I could hear his thundering heart against my ear and was sure he could hear my erratic breathing.
“Better than I’ve slept in a long time,” he responded, sounding a little choked. I doubted it was this lumpy couch that he enjoyed about last night.
I was feeling brazen, wanting to explore just how far I could push him. Shifting again under the pretense of stretching, I scooted up a little so our groins were pressed together then rolled my hips into him. The rough texture of his jeans and the steel-hard shaft straining within them rubbing against my pussy, already wet with excitement, was enough to force a soft moan past my lips.
He let out a hiss, and I smiled against his chest. If I was going to leave here in a couple days, I wanted to go with zero regrets. I wanted to make sure I had memories to accompany me long after I’d lost them.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” I said, tilting my head back to give him a coy smile.
I was thrilled when I saw his hooded eyes, clenched jaw, and the desirous look he was giving me. I pushed up and rolled over, Denver rolling with me so he was on his back and I was straddling him, seated directly over his hips. I stood before he could grip my waist and hold me there. I bent over in front of him to retrieve my sweater, making sure to linger just long enough for him to get a view of the very tops of my thighs. Denver was a gentleman, but I wanted to tempt him so much that he couldn’t hold back.
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
I took my time in the shower, washing my hair and shaving my legs. I wanted the anticipation to drive him crazy. When I got out, I wrapped myself in a fluffy but short towel that barely covered me and made my way back into the kitchen.
I could smell something sweet and hear the sounds of something frying in a pan as I walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. I turned the corner and paused for a moment to take in the sight that greeted me. Denver’s back was turned to me. His pants dipped low, and the white undershirt he wore was tight on his muscles.
“What are you making?” I asked.
“Chocolate chip pancakes. It’s almost ready,” he answered over his shoulder without looking at me.
My lips twisted in a smile. I knew what he was doing. I looked at the table and saw that he’d already set it, going so far as to add a flower to one of Mama’s old vases in the center. I made my way over to the table, settling in the wooden seat and crossing my legs so the towel rode high, flashing a generous amount of thigh. I picked up a strawberry from the plate, timing my bite with the moment he turned around.
“Mmm,” I moaned, closing my eyes when the sweetness of the fruit hit my tongue. I didn’t have to look at Denver to know he’d be turned on by the sight I presented. My wet hair was clinging to my neck, the towel barely covered me, and my lips were wrapped around the bright red strawberry.
I cut my gaze to find him standing frozen, his blue eyes blazing with hunger as he stared. He let the plate of pancakes clatter to the counter and advanced on me. I saw the veins in his forearms pulsing with need. His chest moved up and down with each labored breath. Flashing him a triumphant grin, I turned back to the table and the whipped cream set in a bowl. I dipped my strawberry in it then brought it to my lips, slowly licking it clean.
“So delicious,” I whispered.
It was like whatever carefully constructed dam Denver had built inside himself broke. He closed the distance between us in a blink and swept his place setting to the floor. Picking me up with his big hands around my waist, he set me atop the table and leaned so close our mouths were touching, staring at me all the while.
“I want to taste you,” he snarled against my lips before he pried my legs open and dropped to his knees. He gasped when he saw how wet I was.
“You always were such a tease. Always seeing how far you could push me,” Denver muttered lowly, rolling his eyes up to look at me.
He didn’t give me a chance to answer. Instead, he gripped my towel, pulling it open, and took the strawberry from between my fingers. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he pressed the bitten fruit against my pussy, sliding it through my wetness. I sucked in a breath and shivered at the touch, the cold against my heated flesh shocking.
“Do you taste sweet, Merritt?”
I whimpered as he brought the strawberry to his mouth and licked my taste from it then bit it slowly.
“Did you think you could tease me?” he whispered softly.
He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss at my inner thigh.
“I thought I could tempt you,” I choked out.
“Consider me tempted, Snaps,” he growled before pressing his face between my thighs and lapping me up. He drew small circles over the flesh of my clit with his soft tongue, moaning against me as my legs shook.
He pulled away and stood suddenly. Lifting me by my hips, he stood me on the floor then spun me around. I could feel every inch of his body pressed against mine. His hot breath ghosted over my skin as he leaned down to brush his lips over my neck. I felt him reach down, felt his knuckles against my ass and heard the rasp of his zipper. My hands clenched into fists on the table when he pushed the hot rod of his cock between my legs.
Reaching around to cup my breast, he sunk his teeth into my neck just as he thrust forward, teasing me by sliding himself against me. My lips fell open on a moan, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. Placing a hand between my shoulder blades, he pressed me down onto the table.
I heard the crinkle of a wrapper right before I felt the head of his cock rub against my opening. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” I immediately replied with zero hesitation.
“Tell me you’ll stay, Merritt,” he cooed while kissing along my spine and massaging my ass with his palm.
“I… I don’t know, Denver. I can’t… my job.”
He dragged his teeth along my skin, and although I couldn’t see him, I felt his smile. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Stay. Give it the full two weeks at least.”
When I didn’t respond right away, he slipped his finger inside of me, slowly moving in and out as I squirmed on the kitchen table. “Does that feel good, Snaps?” he asked in a seductively low tone before pulling out. “Tell me you’ll stay, and I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.” I craved him. He had me aching with anticipation. And, although this was what I wanted, my plan had still backfired.
I wanted a memory. Denver wanted a promise.
“Say it, Snaps,” he urged while pressing against me. The head of his cock was just at my entrance, teasing me with the promise of filling me up.
“Fine,” I relented. “I’ll call my boss.”
Denver let out a sigh of relief, barely audible before he pushed forward. “Good girl,” he groaned.
His grip was tight on my hips as he sank farther and farther, burying his thickness inside me. He didn’t pause but withdrew at the same steady pace, driving me mad with the need to feel him let go and take me. “Denver,” I demanded on a moan.
His answer was a sharp shudder and a tortured groan, but he let go, giving me what I needed. The slap as our bodies came together echoed in the kitchen, resonating with my cries and his grunts.
I was close, so close. I knew Denver was right there with me. He lost a little more of his restraint with every plunge, with every slam of my ass as I pushed back into him. “I have to see you when you come,” he rasped, pulling out suddenly and guiding me around and onto the table.
Coiling my arms around his neck and my thighs around his waist, I kissed him deeply as he cupped my breast, teasing my nipple with his fingers. I tightened my legs just as he thrust back inside me. I cried out into his mouth, echoed by his groan, when that caused him to slam all the way to the hilt, making my orgasm f
eel like it was seconds away from crashing over me. Like this, he felt thicker, heavier between my legs as he drove in and out. Our bodies were slick, our hands gripping the other tightly as we moved together frantically. Our kisses were breathless and hungry, need stripping us of all gentleness.
With each desperate thrust, we were propelled closer to our peaks. The buildup was fast and, when it crashed over us, our orgasms were shattering. I threw my head back and screamed my pleasure, my nails digging into his back as he powered inside me one last time, grinding my hips into his as he jerked and shouted.
My name was a prayer on his lips as we came together. A demand, a wish, and a plea, all in one.
14
Denver and I were lying on the couch, in almost the exact position in which we’d woken up, but this time, there wasn’t a layer of clothing keeping us apart. I was tracing meaningless shapes on his chest when his cell phone rang. Springing up from the couch, he made his way over to his pants, discarded in a heap on the floor with the rest of his clothes, and started rifling through the pockets. I watched his frantic movements with wide, startled eyes as he answered the phone.
“Hello?" His gaze flicked to me, and I dipped my brow in confusion. It was odd seeing him so frazzled. He’d always been the most composed of our group. “It’s still on for tonight?" he asked the person on the other line. I watched him as he listened to them talk for a few moments, and my mind began spinning with questions. “I'll be there. See you in an hour." Denver hung up his phone and started getting dressed.
“Who was that?" I asked as I stood up and pulled on my robe.
I helped him gather the rest of his belongings. I could sense the tension rolling off of him, and I didn’t want to add to it by grilling him with questions, regardless of the curiosity burning within me, but I knew something was wrong. I watched him debate on what to say as he buttoned his jeans.
Denver paused once he’d pulled on his shirt and clipped his badge to his belt, biting his lip as he glanced at me. I immediately recognized the look in his eye, the one he had when he was hiding something. “I can't tell you that," was his response.
At that, my curiosity turned into genuine worry. I let out a slow breath before crossing my arms over my chest and moving to stand between him and the front door. In the corner, Remy was pacing and whining. Dogs had a sixth sense about these things, and if Remy was worried, then I should be too.
“So, what? You're just gonna leave?” I asked. “After that?” I waved my hand in the direction of the kitchen. Denver's expression softened, and he closed the distance I’d put between us. Cupping my cheek, he using his thumb to stroke my skin, but he still didn’t say anything.
“Was that Krew?" I pushed.
Dropping his hand, Denver looked up at the ceiling, as if praying for patience. I wished that we could go back to five minutes ago, when he was holding me, and I felt safe in his arms. “You know I can't tell you that, Snaps," he murmured, gazing down at me. The stubborn refusal on his face was apparent, but so was his plea that I understand. Remy let out a short growl and plopped down on his bed.
My sentiments exactly.
"So what exactly can you tell me?" I demanded, my voice having more bite to it than usual.
The secrets were piling up, and I was beyond sick of them. What the hell was going on around here? What were my guys mixed up in? I had a terrible feeling it had something to do with what had gotten my dad killed.
“I can tell you that I'll be home soon. And that this thing between us is far from over. I can tell you that I’d much rather be here with you," he assured.
I wanted to tell him that it wasn't fair, that he had no right to manipulate me into changing my plans with my boss, especially if he wasn't going to be honest with me. Each new reveal had me connecting the dots. I knew Krew and Denver were working together on something, I just didn’t know what. What if it was as dangerous as I feared?
What if I lost them?
“I don't know if that's good enough, Denver,” I whispered.
I hated how much I felt like the girl I used to be. Once again, I found myself pleading for someone I loved to not leave me. Denver’s expression fell for a moment at my words before determination flared in his blue eyes.
“It will be, I promise.” With that, he pulled me to him and pressed a hard kiss on my lips, taking a moment to taste me.
I watched him disappear, leaving me alone to process everything that had happened over the last few days.
After Denver left, I moved with a renewed sense of purpose as I packed up the house, channeling my frustration and worry into work. My feelings for the guys had grown more than I would have thought possible over just a few days, but there were still too many secrets between us.
Completely aside from whatever it was they were hiding from me, there was the issue that we’d been apart for fifteen years. How realistic was it to hope for more when there was still so much left unsaid? We had a lot of reconnecting to do, and I was trying to squeeze it all into a few days, but every time I thought we were getting closer, something happened. First Krew telling me to leave, then my boss calling and Tatum storming out, now Denver leaving and taking his secrets with him.
Even if everything went perfectly and we reclaimed the closeness and love we’d had, I knew I couldn’t choose between them. Maybe it would be better for all of us if I just left. They deserved a normal life, not to be strung along by a woman who couldn’t let go of a silly childhood fantasy where the four of us lived together happily ever after.
I had the kitchen packed in three hours. Remy whined almost constantly as I worked, and no amount of petting or soothing words would make him stop. I’d just started on the hallway pictures when he began tugging empty boxes away with his teeth. Once he realized his stealing them made me stop packing, he was relentless. I spent most of my time trying to fight them away from him or searching the house to figure out where he’d hidden them.
Remy was the one thing I was certain of. Closet-sized apartment be damned, I’d be taking him with me when I left, even if I had to drag him along on every assignment. We’d bonded. He represented a piece of my dad, but more than that, I loved the rascally mutt.
After the pictures were wrapped and packed, I made my way down the hall to my dad’s room. I stood in there for a long moment, just staring at the pattern in the wood on the door, hesitant to open it. I hadn’t stepped foot in this room since I’d arrived, but I couldn’t avoid it anymore. Most the stuff in the living room could be donated to Goodwill, and I was saving my childhood bedroom for last, so this was the only room remaining.
I stiffened my spine and gripped the cold metal door knob, twisting it quickly and pushing the door open. As soon as I did, I was hit with the faint scent of my father—cigars and cinnamon.
I remembered that he’d smoke after long shifts on patrol and, to this day, I always associated the smell of tobacco with my father. He used to tell me that it was the sensory experience of smoking that he liked. He’d sit on the porch, swaying sedately in the rocking chair, breathe in the open air, and puff on his cigar. If I closed my eyes, I could still hear the crickets chirping as he’d hum to himself. On nights when he was feeling particularly sentimental, he’d invite me to sit with him and tell me stories of his childhood.
I opened my eyes, dispelling the vivid memory. Glancing around, I tried to decide where to start and finally went to the nightstand. I bit my lip when I saw a photo of me propped up. Coins and receipts littered the top of the chestnut nightstand, but none of them touched the picture.
When I opened the drawer, I wasn’t surprised to see a loaded glock there. Picking it up, I disarmed it, removing the magazine and pulling the slide back to eject the bullet in the chamber. I set it aside then rifled through the papers stacked beneath it.
Photos of me and of my mother, along with veterinary documents for Remy, were stuffed inside. I set them in a pile, working through them methodically. It wasn’t until I got to the bottom of the drawer
where an aged, folded note sat, that I paused. The note looked like it had been opened and closed multiple times. Drops of water that I instantly knew were tears stained the outside.
I sat on the bed, holding it gingerly, unsure what I would find when I opened it. Remy, who’d been sitting at my feet, leapt up to join me and rested his head in my lap as I slowly unfolded it. My fingers shook, and Remy let out a slow whine in my lap.
It was a picture of… me.
I couldn’t have been more than twelve, the age I’d been when I moved away. I was wearing overalls with bright yellow flowers on them, and my pale blonde hair was in pigtails. I was standing on the edge of the dock with my father, a fishing pole in my hand. Neither I nor my dad looked like we were aware of having our picture taken, and the angle of the photograph told me that whoever had taken it had been hidden from view. The image was grainy in a way I recognized came from a long distance lens.
I traced my fingers over the photo then looked at the words written in faded black marker at the bottom.
Stop following us or she dies.
I sucked in a sharp breath. A million realizations flooded me at once. Daddy was being threatened.
“He hadn’t wanted to send me away,” I whispered aloud. “He… he was trying to protect me?”
I closed my eyes and pictured him. Daddy was always so brave. He didn’t fear anyone or anything. I couldn’t remember a time that my father shied away from danger or injustice. He was prideful and strong. Who—or what—had he feared so much that he took this threat seriously enough to send his only child away?
I picked up my phone with numb fingers to call Denver. I was trembling with adrenaline and grief. I listened to it ring, barely breathing, but he didn’t answer.
“You’ve reached Officer Price with the Esperanza County Sheriff's Office. Leave a message, and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.”
“Denver, it’s Merritt. I found something in Daddy’s room. We need to talk. Call me back as soon as you get this.”