by Nicole Helm
“Good. I enjoy that.” Too much. This was all such a dangerous pretense. Never in his life had he had trouble resisting danger, but now...
He couldn’t resist it even if there was some part of him that wanted to.
She audibly swallowed and he did the same. Nerves kept him from making the next move. Christ, nerves with a woman he’d had plenty of sex with.
Tonight had made everything so much more.
He should tell her. Force the words out. She wanted him to express his feelings, so he should damn well express them.
And if you’re reading the situation all wrong? It’s been a few weeks. What sane person falls in love after a few weeks? Desperate people do that. Not sane people.
The thought made his heart sink. He knew he was pathetic when it came to his family situation, but he’d never considered himself desperate. Maybe all this was just desperation to find some kind of love.
But why now? When he’d never felt it before? No matter how much he would’ve liked to. It wasn’t desperation.
It was Tess.
“I love you,” he blurted. Awkwardly. Horribly. “I think.” Even worse.
She pressed her lips together, but it didn’t last as they curved into a smile, and then a little laugh. “Oh, thank God, because I’m pretty sure I love you, too, and that is just crazy.”
The relief was so huge, so palpable, he wished he could sit down. “Fucking nuts.”
She laughed again, something more like a giggle. “What are we going to do?” Her smile sobered, and she leaned against him, grasping his shirt at his sides.
“No clue,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her.
“Maybe we put that part aside for tonight. And deal with it later.”
She sounded so hopeful—even though the practical part of his brain knew that wouldn’t change anything, certainly wouldn’t fix anything, he couldn’t deny her that. He couldn’t deny them this one night of feelings before they had to complicate it with reality.
“Yes. Let’s do that.”
She grinned, grasped the bottom of her shirt as if to pull it off, but he stepped in before she could complete the action.
“No. Let me.” He took the edge of the shirt out of her grasp, and then slowly lifted the fabric over her head.
“Oh, man, I wish I’d worn nicer underwear.”
He took the strap of her plain, nondescript bra between his index finger and his thumb. “You look beautiful.”
“Flatterer.” But she said it on a happy sigh.
So he took the other strap between his fingers the same way, slowly sliding them down her shoulders, the backs of his fingers trailing against her arms. He gave the straps a tug until the bra moved down.
He kissed her chest, the space between her breasts, brushing fingertips lightly over the tops of each, then across her nipples. She let out a shaky breath and unsnapped the bra bunched around her waist, letting it fall.
He sank to his knees in front of her, pressed a kiss to her stomach, smoothed his hands over her hips.
“Um.”
He traced his fingertip along the waist of her jeans, watching intently as tiny goose bumps popped up along her skin. He toyed with the button of her pants. “May I?”
She watched him, wide-eyed, and then nodded. He unsnapped the button of her jeans, then lowered the zipper.
She cleared her throat and he looked up at her, surprised to find uncertainty on her face. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just... If you’re after doing what I think you’re doing... I know it’s kind of weird, but no one’s ever, um, done that for me before. If that’s what you were planning. If not, it’s no big de—”
He shut her up by pressing a kiss to her belly button, which caused her to squeak instead of finish her sentence. He tugged at her jeans, goal in place now.
“Allow me to be the first.”
* * *
TESS THOUGHT SHE might squeak again as Marc starting pulling her pants down her legs. Once he got them to her ankles, she stepped out of them.
But he didn’t get up off his knees.
Surely it had to be odd that a woman in her thirties had never been on the receiving end of oral sex, but it had just never happened. She hadn’t had a lot of serious, long-term relationships where she’d felt a lot of the trust and love and future-type feelings she would have needed to be comfortable enough to do this.
And she—he—they were going to do this. After saying I love yous. Terrible, wonderful I love yous.
She was afraid she was going to cry.
Marc traced the waistband of her panties with his fingertips, much the way he had when her jeans had still been on. Only this time they traveled all the way to her back, and then his palms slid over her butt.
Cry. Die of lust and desperation. One of the two.
He pulled at the sides of her panties, slowly pulling them down. Excruciatingly slowly for a man who’d seen her naked quite frequently over the past two weeks.
“You can tell me if you don’t like something.”
“Oh, right, okay, yeah.” Nice sentiment. One that was hard to wrap her mind around when her underwear was now on the floor and she was completely naked in front of his completely clothed, kneeling body.
He paused, his hands resting on either thigh. “And I don’t have to do it if you don’t want me to.”
She blinked down at him. “N-no. No, I want you to.”
“You’re kind of stuttery.”
“No, it’s just weird doing something I haven’t done before. I want to. God, I want to. But, you know, I’m used to being a little bit more in control.”
He considered her very carefully, one of those guarded studies she wished she could understand a little better.
“It’s certainly not something to do if you feel uncomfortable. I want to, but I’d never want you to allow something just because I want to.”
Funny, those two little sentences clarified his careful looks. He was trying to figure out what she wanted so he could give it to her. He was concerned she was doing this because he wanted to, because that’s what he would do if the situation was reversed.
“I’ve confessed my love for a guy, which throws all sorts of wrenches into the career I love, and now I’m about to have oral sex for the first time. I’m a little overwhelmed.” She smiled and drew a finger across his mouth. “I don’t think you ever have to worry you’re pushing me into something I don’t want to do. You’re very careful about that, if you haven’t noticed. Now, I’m kind of naked here, so if we could get the show on the road.”
He chuckled, whatever concerns he had seeming to dissipate. “Have a seat. Take a load off.” He patted the bed behind her, a big grin on his face.
She liked that grin. No, she loved that grin. Rare. For her. Because of her, she liked to think. So before she sat where he had instructed, she planted a kiss on his mouth, which made his grin grow, and sat, pleased she was the cause for his happiness. Pleased he loved her. Pleased with every damn little thing. All the worries and concerns niggling at the corner of her brain went completely silent when Marc’s hands grasped her knees and slowly pushed them apart.
He kissed each knee, hands slowly sliding toward inner thigh territory, mouth following. Teasing, exploring, driving her to the brink of pleasure with just his mouth.
She clutched his shoulders, needing something to anchor her as the orgasm spiraled through her.
Then she flopped back on the bed because she couldn’t maintain an upright sitting position anymore.
He chuckled and got up on the bed, covering her body with his. “I’ll take that as a job well done.”
“Mmm” was all the response she could muster. Wow. Wow. She managed to grin up at his too-smug face, but smug was nice on him.
&nb
sp; She traced his hairline with her index finger. “Give me a second to get my strength back and it’ll be your turn.”
“First time should be all about you. No reciprocating.” He kissed behind her ear, then down her neck, and when she whimpered he stayed right there, using his mouth once again to make desire begin to coil.
“You can’t make everything about me, you know,” she said, leaning her neck in the opposite direction to give him more access. “At some point, you have to want things, too. You have to get things, too.”
“Believe it or not, I consider the next part something I very much want.” He reached across the bed to his little nightstand where he kept the condoms.
“I am serious, though. Don’t just give me what I want because I want it.”
He looked down at her, very seriously, any hint at humor gone. “Maybe you deserve that.”
Deserve. She’d never spent too much time lingering on thoughts of what she deserved. Dangerous business, that. “No, I think we both deserve to try and get what we want. Sometimes we will and sometimes we won’t, because hello, life. But I don’t want you pretending with me, got it? If this love thing is going to work, we need to be on equal footing. I think we could both use a little equal.”
“I hate to bring this up right now—”
She clapped a hand over his mouth, because of course responsible, practical Marc would latch onto the if this love thing is going to work part. “Nope, we’re not thinking about that part tonight.”
“All right,” he said against her palm. “But you are the one who brought it up.”
“Well, I’m changing the subject.” She took the condom, pulled it out of its package and rolled it over him.
“Good change.” He smiled down at her, and against everything she knew was sensible and smart, safe and self-preserving, she smiled back.
“I love you,” she murmured, because she didn’t know how long she’d be able to say it without the complications and the reality setting in.
“I love you, too,” he returned, and all the dumb or irrational paled in comparison to that moment. She couldn’t regret this. No matter what happened in the future, she’d never be able to wish this hadn’t happened.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MARC WOKE WITH a jolt to the sound of a phone buzzing. Tess was moving groggily in bed next to him, but he was pretty sure it was her phone, not his.
“In my pants,” she mumbled, pawing around on the bed.
“They’re on the floor.”
She said something else, or maybe it was just grunts and incoherent mumbles. He really couldn’t be sure, but the buzzing stopped.
Tess stumbled off the bed and he glanced at the clock. Two in the morning. Those kinds of phone calls were rarely good.
This time her phone chimed. “Message,” she murmured, holding the phone up to her ear and crawling back into bed.
She rested her head on his shoulder, and he could hear a man’s voice coming from the earpiece of her phone. He couldn’t make out words, but it sounded like...weeping.
Tess went completely still, completely tense. She threw back the covers, dropping the phone.
“I have to go.”
“What is it? Your father?”
“Yes, he’s...” He switched on his bedside lamp and she winced against the light, but it only slowed her down for a second. She pulled her pants on, then threw on a T-shirt that turned out to be his.
“Shit,” she muttered.
“It’s okay. Wear it, but tell me what’s going on.”
“He...” She raked fingers through her unruly hair. “He said he’s going to kill himself if I don’t come over.”
Marc was out of bed in a flash.
“No. Please. Don’t. This...I’ve dealt with this before. Not often, but I know how to handle it. Get back in bed. Go back to sleep. I’ll be back in a few hours, tops.”
“We’re supposed to wake up for work in a few hours.”
“I know. I know. But I have to go. I can’t argue with you right now, Marc.”
“I’m not arguing. I’m going with you.”
“I already told you why I can’t let you do that.”
“I’ll drive you, and I won’t even get out of the car. I’ll sit there and wait.”
“For hours? So someone can call the cops on you? No, honey, I have to do this.” She turned and left the room without allowing him to argue further, but he wasn’t done.
He couldn’t possibly let her go. Alone. In the middle of the night. To that shit hole and a man threatening suicide.
She was pushing her feet into her shoes. “You cannot go alone. At least call someone at the department. Call Stumpf. He’s a good guy.”
“Dad’ll get hysterical if they show up.”
“Good. They’ll involuntarily commit him and you can be done with this bullshit.”
She paused for a second, as if she was considering it. He held his breath, hoping to God she would.
But she shook her head. “No. I can’t run the risk he goes through with it. Look, once I get there and calm him down and make sure he can’t hurt himself, I’ll work on seeing about the involuntary thing. I do have his voice on message saying he’s going to kill himself. So...just let me do this on my own. Okay?”
“No. I can’t. I cannot stay here while you go to a dangerous place and a dangerous situation.”
“I’ll have my gun. I can take care of myself.”
He wanted to argue with her. Two was better than one—when it came to people and having protective weaponry.
But he also wanted to be able to give her what she wanted. He wanted to be able to trust her. She always handled it, had for however long before he’d gotten involved in her life. What did he get out of forcing his way on this?
“Call me when you get there. When you know what’s going on. When you’re on your way. Text. Call. Please don’t make me wait here thinking you’ve been hurt.”
She reached for the door, hesitated. Then turned around and wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “I won’t get hurt. And I’ll keep you updated. And...” Her grasp loosened, fell. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Which he had to say between gritted teeth, because how did you love someone and let them do this alone?
“Tess, I will step back. I will wait here because I know that’s what you want, but if I think for a second that you’re in danger, I am coming after you.” Even he had his limits.
She turned in the open doorway, expression conflicted and hurt. “I won’t get hurt.”
That had to be true, because if she did get hurt, he didn’t know how he was going to live with this. He wanted to tell her to be careful. Tell her again not to go. Call the department behind her back and have someone there.
But it wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to handle this on her own. Deal with it her own way. Without him. So he had to live with it.
“Come back here when you’re done.”
“You should get some sleep.”
“Don’t be stupid, Tess.” The hurt on her face sharpened, but he was barely holding it together. He couldn’t be nice and give her what she wanted.
“All right, all right.” She stepped into the hall, and he wished he could think of something reassuring to say. Her father was threatening to kill himself, and all he could do was lash out. Barely contain his anger at her not letting him go with.
But she was gone and he forced himself to close the door and not do anything but wait for her to call. He’d time it. If she went twenty minutes without contacting him, he’d get in his car and go.
That had to be fair. A compromise. Maybe not what she wanted, but he could only give her so much of that.
But he would. He would.
Such a good night. Ev
en if it was complicated. Even if it was nuts. Loving her, her loving him back. All interrupted by someone else’s disease.
The hallmark of his life that he couldn’t escape.
* * *
TESS HATED THAT she was crying before she even got to Dad’s. Hated that she was torn up about things more than just the fact he was threatening to kill himself.
That should be the worst, but the worst had been refusing Marc’s help. Because she wanted it. She wanted it so badly, someone to stand behind her and help her deal with this mess.
But she was too embarrassed, too afraid it would ruin anything she might be able to accomplish with Dad.
So she was alone, and she felt alone and scared and so damn tired.
But what choice did she have? The tears, the suicide talk, that wasn’t manipulation. Not when he’d attempted it before. No, that was real, and she could not ignore that.
She pushed the car into Park and hurried out. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Dad?”
It was dark. Quiet. Eerie. The tears didn’t stop. They intensified. “Dad?” He had to be okay. How could she ever live with herself if he wasn’t okay?
Terrible, Tessie. Just like your mother.
“Dad?” Her voice wavered, and she was afraid to take another step inside, but she did. Just one shaky one.
You have to do this. No one else can. She took a deep breath, let it out, then took another step, and there he was.
“So you can come when I need you.” She couldn’t see him. Like the junkie next door the other night, he was a shadowy figure. The same fear worked through her, only she couldn’t bring herself to put her hand on her weapon. Not with her own father.
“Why don’t I turn on the light, huh?”
“Don’t fucking move, Tess.”
There had been a handful of times in her life Dad had really scared her. Down to the bone. The one time he’d been on drugs, once when she’d been very young—eight or nine—and she hadn’t been able to wake him up. Then the suicide attempt. And now, tonight.
She couldn’t remember him ever, ever calling her Tess. Even in his lucid moments. She was always Tessie.
But he’d said Tess. Cold. Calm. It was like something out of a horror movie. Where the bad guy had no conscience, was just evil.