From the Wreckage

by Melissa Collins

  “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

  Looking up at me with a hint of shyness in her deep blue eyes, she asks, “Would you come with us?” She worries her lip, waiting on me to answer. “I told them about you . . . I mean about us and they were really excited to see you. Plus, you know so much more about the area than I do. I know I chewed you out for helping before, but I would really love it–” she rambles, cutting herself off when she sees the laughter lighting up my face.

  “You’re kind of cute when you ramble like that.”

  Offended, she gasps, “I was not rambling.”

  “Yes, you were.” I laugh past the matter-of-fact words. “And yes, I’d love to help. It’ll be nice to see your parents after all these years.”

  Stretching up on her toes, she presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “You’re perfect. Thank you.”

  “So are you,” I whisper, looping my arms around her waist. “And so is this.” Our lips come together in a moment of emotion unlike any I’ve ever felt. For some reason, this simple kiss means more than I can put to words—as if it’s a kiss promising something unnamable and intangible. Something fleeting yet permanent. Something alive and breathing right here between us.

  As our lips move apart, I turn us around to show her where we are. And my timing couldn’t have worked out any better, either. “It’s beautiful. Breathtaking, actually,” she gasps, covering her mouth with her hand.

  And it is. The 9/11 Memorial is one of the most awe-inspiring locations in New York. There’s a mystical tranquility surrounding the place, a spiritual reverence hovering right at the surface. “I wanted to bring you here because it’s so important to me.” With the sun setting in the early evening sky, the entire location is almost glowing. Holding her hand, we walk into the grounds. “These lives”—moving my hand along the wall on which the victims’ names are engraved—“were taken far too soon. I was in middle school when it happened and I remember my teachers panicking. We had no clue what was going on, but we knew it was something big. All I remember was my dad picking me up from school early. He had tears in his eyes as he signed me out and by that point, I’d heard enough to know that we’d been attacked.”

  Offering me her wordless support, she squeezes my hand as we look into the tranquility pool. The sound of the water cascading over the edges drowns out the surrounding noise of the city. “In the weeks and months that followed, I pieced together most of what happened. Well, as much as a thirteen-year-old could have. It really affected me.” Raking a hand through my hair, I stare out across the water, watching the surface shimmer and sparkle as it reflects the lights of the surrounding memorial.

  “It affected all of us.” Gazing up at me, there are tears in her eyes.

  “Seven guys from my squad died that day. Seeing their names and faces on the walls of my station every day . . .” Fighting hard, I swallow back the emotion rising in my chest. “It gives me a purpose, you know? Like I’m living their legacy. I know this probably all sounds really cheesy.” I huff, a little embarrassed by my show of emotions. “But you said you wanted to get to know me and I couldn’t think of a better place to bring you to show you who I really am. This,”—swiping my arm to the side, I put the memorial on display before dropping my arm on her shoulder—“these people, this city, it’s more than just a job. It’s been in my blood since the night I saved you. And being a part of something bigger than myself, it’s all I know. So it was natural for me to show you the most important part of who I am.”

  “David . . . I . . .” Words fail her, the sound of the water filling the silence.

  “I know it’s not the most romantic thing ever. And it’s probably a really crappy first date idea, but–”

  “It’s the best first date I’ve ever had. Thank you for giving me this part of you.” Resting her head on my shoulder, we let the water say what we can’t. “I’ll never forget this night, ever.”

  And her words, so simple and so true are the last either of us speaks before leaving for dinner half an hour later.

  “Do you, um, want to come up?” Fidgeting with the belt of my dress, a flutter of excitement swarms low in my belly. David hasn’t been able to keep his hands off me all night. From the moment we arrived at the memorial, through dinner, and then even on the walk back to my apartment. A light touch on my shoulder, a gentle brush against my thigh, a possessive hand on my lower back. It’s done nothing but set my skin on fire, his fingers constantly fanning the flames.

  Torn, he steps back from me, digging his hands deep into his back pockets. “No. I can’t.” His denial stings, lighting up all the places he’s touched me with his refusal.

  Determined not to seem upset, I nod. “Okay. Then I guess I’ll talk to you soon.” Turning away from him, I take a deep breath and blow away my frustration. The only thought racing through my brain is he has somewhere else to be. There’s no way he’s pitying me, but I won’t lie and say his refusal doesn’t sting.

  With my key in the door, I feel his body looming behind me. His breathing is labored and when I spin back to look at him, his face is dark and conflicted somehow. “Gracie,” he nearly growls my name. His hand dives into my hair, wrapping around the nape of my neck. Angling my face up to his, he strokes my neck with his thumb. Surely he feels my pulse beating a wild and frantic pace there. “I want to. My god, I want to so fucking bad,” he grounds out his words. His jaw is clenched so tightly, his face doesn’t look like his own. “But–”

  “But what?” I whimper, unable to bear the feel of his skin on mine knowing he isn’t willing to take it further.

  He looks up into the night sky, letting out a deep and controlled breath as if it will somehow give him some semblance of strength. When he looks back into my eyes, there’s tension there. Clearly wavering, his chest rises and falls with his deep and almost annoyed breaths. Dropping a hand to his hard, warm chest, I hope to calm him some, but all it does is make his breath deeper, shuddery and irregular. “If I go up there, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you. It took all my strength tonight not to pull you into an alley and push you up against a wall just so I could feel your body against mine, so I could take what I’ve wanted all night. Hell, what I’ve wanted since I first saw you. God how I wanted to push your skirt up and have you wrap your legs around my waist just so I could finally feel how hot and tight you are.” His lips move so close to my ear it’s impossible not to break out in a river of goose bumps.

  “What stopped you?” My words are uneven, breathless. If his touches turned me on, his words morphed me into a boneless heap of desire.

  “You deserve better,” he states, his words weighed with simplicity and truth. “When you’re ready, you’ll get my time, my attention, my tenderness. Not a quick fuck in an alley.”

  Confused, I stare at him with furrowed brows. “Ready? But I’m asking you up now. What makes you think I’m not ready?”

  “The other night–”

  “That was before. It was different. I can’t explain it.” Pushing down my frustration for letting my insecurities get in our way, I take a deep breath. “I never should have let what he said get in the way of how I feel about being with you. And I’m doing that tonight.” Leaning into him, I flex both hands on his chest. Moving my lips against the hollow of his neck, I beg, “Please. I’m ready now. I promise.”

  His pulse rushes wildly under my kisses as his hands grip me so tightly it’s almost too much to bear. “Grace,” he grits out, making me look up at him through my lashes. “You’re too goddamn sexy to refuse.” He gives in, brushing my hair out of my eyes before tucking it behind my ear. “And fuck do I want you.” Though his words say one thing, he remains glued to the spot and he still looks torn over the whole thing.

  “We’re on the same page then.” Smiling up at him, I know what will push him over the edge. “Besides, if you don’t come in there with me, I have a hot pink vibrator that won’t argue with me about it.” Arching a brow, I toss that out there, waiting to see
what he has to say about it.

  His fingers dig into my hips and his eyes widen. Without saying a word, he trails his fingers down my arm and pulls the keys out of my hand. Reaching around me, he unlocks the door, capturing me between it and him. Frozen on the spot, I stand there, giddy that I won him over, as he drops my keys back into my hand.

  My excitement doesn’t vanish as we walk through the small entryway. When the elevator doors open, we step inside, the atmosphere sizzling and crackling around us. Taking on a life of its own, the air in the small space swirls around us, pulling us closer together until there’s no more than an inch between us. Electricity jolts to life as his arm brushes against mine. As the doors close, he steps in front of me, locking me between his body and the wall. When his leg slides between mine, I can barely breathe. “You look more than beautiful tonight,” he mutters, pressing his lips to my neck and dancing his fingers up my outer thigh. Stopping just shy of actually pushing my skirt up, he lets go of the flowy edges of the dress and moves his hands up my sides. Even over the thin material, I can feel the rough pads of his fingers, making me shiver in anticipation of what’s to come.

  “I always fantasized about this, you know?” I groan into his neck, unable to control my need for him. “Being taken in an elevator. Being needed like this. So much that waiting until we get into my apartment is just too long.”

  “Grace,” he growls, nipping at my neck. Pushing against my body even harder, I can feel his need for me against my belly. With my fingers trailing down his tight stomach, I grow more daring. Inches away from taking what I want, I stop in my tracks as the door slides open.

  “Oh my. Well, I never.” Mrs. Corado clutches at her pearls, gasping in shock as she steps in the elevator. Our old lady neighbor is the equivalent of the creepy old man in Friends. The one who would always bang on the ceiling, yelling at the crew that they were making too much noise. She’s pretty much the same. Except anytime she sees me or Jade, she has to make some comment about not being decent, showing too much skin, or always having men to our apartment. I’m sure if you asked her, she’d tell you we run a brothel or something similar.

  Keeping his body in front of mine, he whispers in my ear, “She’s just jealous.”

  Burying my face in his shoulder, I laugh, agreeing with him. I mean who wouldn’t want to be in my position—a hot, sweet man wedged in between her thighs, threatening to take her right here and now if it wasn’t for the shocked old lady gasping for air.

  Yeah, I’d say it’s pretty amazing to be me.

  Adjusting himself, he steps to the side and laces his fingers through mine. Excusing us as we walk past her, David puts his hand on the small of my back. As I look back at her over my shoulder, it’s not lost on me that she eyes his hand hungrily. Wiggling my fingers in her direction, I say, “I hope you have a good night, Mrs. Corado. I know I will.” I can’t hold back the laugh bursting from my mouth as her eyes widen and she gasps one last time when the doors close.

  Standing at my door, my laughter subsides as David’s eyes darken. “Grace,” he intones. There’s a challenge and a command wrapping around my name. “The door.” Tipping his chin behind me, he adds, “Now.”

  With nervous fingers, I open the door, somehow managing not to drop my keys on the floor. Once we’re over the threshold, he scans the entryway. “Jade out?”

  Unable to form an intelligible word, I nod. And with that, his body language changes once again. Rigid, yet not tense, his muscles bunch under his shirt. Mesmerized, I watch as he unrolls the cuff of his sleeves. Deft fingers work at the buttons of his shirt, revealing miles of tan skin. My fingers itch to graze through the dark hair dusting his chest and diving into a line beneath his waistband.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” he snickers, stepping even closer to me. “But I see it in your eyes, just like you see it in mine.”

  “What’s that?” I manage. Even the two simple words take a huge amount of effort on my part.

  “Desire.” He steps closer still. “Need.” One more step. “Hunger.” Then his hands are on me, his fingers trailing languid circles on my shoulders and down my exposed arms.

  Tucking his finger under the spaghetti strap of my dress, he locks his eyes with mine. Nodding my ascent, I give him the permission he’s seeking. The thin straps fall down my arms and he helps them glide over my elbows. Without much structure to hold it up, the dress floats to the ground, effortlessly falling from my body. The navy blue fabric pools at my feet. Remarkably, the need to cover myself up isn’t there. It’s replaced by the force locking David and I together.

  His eyes roam over my body, from head to toe and back again. Standing there in a black lace bra and panties, I feel empowered by his inability to speak. A staggered breath puffs from his mouth before he grinds out, “My God.”

  Stepping out of my shoes, I kick them to the side. “You’re definitely overdressed.” My fingers run over his chest and then down his stomach, following that sexy-as-fuck trail of hair. “Maybe we can change that?” I challenge, working my fingers at the buckle of his belt. His hands cover mine, but I push them away. “Let me.”

  The thick column of his neck shifts as he swallows hard. Dropping his hands to the side, he keeps his eyes focused on mine. His belt lands on the floor in a loud thud, echoing the sound of the blood pounding in my ears. Following suit, he kicks his shoes and socks to the pile next to us.

  Feeling brave, I work at the zipper of his pants, letting my fingers graze ever so slightly against his rock hard length pushing against the fabric. “Even that right there. It drives me crazy.” His words come out thick and gravelly, dripping with need.

  “This?” I ask coyly, letting my finger glide over him once more.

  “You know damn well what I mean. And yes, if you keep doing that, I can’t make any promises about taking things slowly.” Needing to see more of him, I push his pants down past his hips and he shoves them down the ground before kicking them to the side. Wrapping his hand around my wrist, he pulls it away from his body, obviously in need of a little bit of space. That much is clear by the ever-growing damp spot on his boxers.

  Breaking free from his grip, I run my hands up his chest, circling the flat disc of his nipples with my thumbs. “What if I don’t want it slow?” I tease, pushing his shirt from his shoulders. “What if I want you to want me so much you have no choice but to lose control?” Tossing his shirt to the pile of clothes, I scratch my nails along his arms, watching as thin red lines appear in their wake.

  Without warning, he lifts me up into his arms, holding me hard to his chest. Dipping his head to mine, he takes my lips in a hot kiss. No soft, gentle nips here. Everything about this kiss is to take what he wants, for me to give him everything he needs. Effortlessly, he carries me to my room, and only once my feet are on the floor does he pull his lips away from mine. “Stay here,” he commands, as if there’s somewhere else on the entire planet I’d rather be.

  Dressed in only his boxers, he walks back out into the living room. His ass. Holy fuck. I actually crane my head out the door to watch it for a second longer before he disappears from my sight. When he returns, his arms are filled with our clothes. “Cleaning? Really? That’s what’s on your mind right now?”

  Dropping everything but his pants, he fishes out a condom from his pocket. “I couldn’t care less about the damn clothes, Grace. In fact, you need to get rid of the rest of yours. But this,”—he turns the condom over in his fingers—“this is fairly important.”

  Tossing it behind me, the condom lands on the bed. Then he’s on me, his lips taking mine as if his next breath needs to come from me. His arms around my waist, he walks us to the bed until the back of my knees bump into the mattress. With his fingers dancing over my skin, my eyes close, reveling in the feel of his touch. “Keep them open, baby. Look at me,” he commands, stroking his thumb over my jaw. “Even when I kiss you, look at me.” When his lips fall on mine, our eyes stay connected, letting this unnamable thing pass between us. I
t’s the most exposed and most comfortable I’ve ever felt with someone. As his tongue lashes against mine, the liquid heat from his eyes flows through my veins, settling low in my belly.

  Working his arms behind me, he unhooks my bra, letting it fall to the floor. Following his demand, I keep my eyes open. And watching him move down my body, feeling his lips and teeth kiss and nip at my skin, it’s almost too much to take in. Across my collarbone, down the center of my breasts, his kisses make me weak, melting my body into mess of needy desire.

  Circling his thumbs over my nipples, I arch my back into his touch. “Ahh,” I groan, needing more. Placing soft kisses in smaller and smaller circles, he touches every inch of my breast except where I need it most. Letting my nipples harden until it’s almost painful, he keeps licking and kissing my skin.

  “Not yet,” he mutters against my skin when I push my body into his touch. Sinking to his knees, he hooks his thumbs into the thin straps of my panties, guiding them down my legs. His kisses continue down my stomach, along my thighs, everywhere except where I’m dying for him to touch, to kiss, to take. Easing me onto the bed, he has me sprawled out and completely naked. Standing above me, he tells me how goddamn beautiful I am, but leaves me writhing here needing to feel his touch once again.

  Unable to go without him a minute longer, I crawl up onto my knees. “Now it’s my turn,” I threaten, raining kissing across his stomach, licking down the deep V cut into his sides. Looking up at him through hooded eyes, I hook my fingers in the waistband of his boxers and push them as far down as I can. He kicks them off and stands before me, hot and hard, waiting and ready. Every muscle in his body is pulled tight, like a bow ready to snap. Resting back on my calves, I stare at him. “David,” I whimper his name. “You’re beautiful.” Taking him in my hand, I softly caress him. Running my fingertips over his veins and ridges, I watch his face as he wars with his control.

  Tightening my grip, I keep stroking him as I rise up and bring my lips to his. My tongue dives into his mouth at the same pace my hand works over him. Swallowing his growls of pleasure, I love feeling him push himself into my hand. But then, in a move so quick I barely have a moment to recognize it, he’s pulling me onto the mattress, sprawling himself on top of me.