Only when I feel her body trembling and see her back bow with her own orgasm, only then do I let the sensation wash over me. I cum violently deep inside her and groan into the crook of her next as the pleasure runs through every inch of my body. I brace my forearms above her head, and we sink into the mattress as I pump short, shallow thrusts until I’m completely spent and have nothing left.
I roll onto my back and pull her close to me while we both catch our breath. It’s been a long time, a really long fucking time, but it’s never felt like that before. More than anything, I feel triumphant. Like I've tamed the untamable.
I let a few minutes go by for my heart to calm down. You’d think I held my breath the whole fucking time. My lips travel along her shoulder and I leave a sweet kiss on the tender part of her neck, just behind her ear before getting up. She was so fucking good, better than I fucking hoped she'd be.
I need to get her something to clean up with.
When I get back from the bathroom, she’s sitting up on the bed holding the comforter across her chest. Her hair’s a mess, her lips are swollen from my kiss, and her skin looks radiant. She looks like she got fucked, and it looks damn good on her.
I pass her the washcloth and pretend like I’m looking away while I pull on my boxers.
She rolls off the bed and sashays her ass in my face. I know she did that shit on purpose. I smack my hand playfully across that perky, lush ass, and smile as she jumps and turns around to face me. A deep red blush colors her cheeks as she smiles shyly back at me.
That’s when it hits me.
This broad is getting to me. I watch as she grabs her clothes. All the bits of happiness leave me in an instant. I didn’t check for a wire. Fuck. Fuck, how could I forget she’s a cop?
I didn’t say anything, though. I know I didn’t. I replay the scene in my head.
It’s like snapping back to reality. I don’t know what the fuck happened.
Shit. Maybe she wanted this. She wanted to get close to me. Fuck. Fuck. I keep fucking this up. I’m so drawn to her. I run a hand down my face in exasperation. What the hell was I thinking? I keep losing my shit when she’s around.
I look at her from across the room as she pulls her jeans up and over her sweet ass. Fuck, even right now as I’m telling myself this is wrong, my dick is hardening at the chance to be inside her again.
“This shit can’t happen.” I say the words before I forget that I need this to be over. “It can’t happen again.”
She turns to face me with a look of shock and hurt. But she’s quick to cover it up. It fucking kills me. A weight pushes against my chest. It fucking hurts. I hate that I hurt her. “You’re right. Sorry it happened.” She talks clearly, and with a hint of sarcasm, but doesn’t face me. She sounds fucking pissed, but there’s an undertone of sadness. She's doing what she does best, and masking her true feelings.
I walk over to her to hold her, or apologize, or something--I don’t know what, but she makes a beeline for her purse and then starts heading to the door. It fucking hurts, but that’s what I get. What did I expect, opening my mouth and ruining it?
We were playing house though. Caught up in something that doesn’t exist.
“I’m not kicking you out.” I talk to her back as she walks out on me. I may as well have kicked her out though. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. This needs to go down like this. She needs to be pissed at me. But I don’t want that.
This is all so fucked.
She turns to face me as I walk up behind her before she can open the door. I want to say something to her. I don’t know what. I just don’t want her to leave like this.
“Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” Her voice is hard and full of menace, but her eyes are glassy with tears. It fucking guts me.
“Stop it, Tonya. It’s not like that.” She turns her back to me to open the door, but I put my hand above hers to keep it from opening. She turns around and I cage her in. She closes her eyes to avoid my stare.
“Stop it. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” I talk with a gentle tone and try to calm her down. But her defenses are way up. She’s not giving me anything. “You don’t want this anyway. You’re a cop. I’m suspect in your case for fuck's sake.”
“You didn’t do it,” she says calmly. Her admission shocks me. If she knows I didn’t do it, what the fuck is she after me for? “You’re right though. This shouldn’t have happened.” She opens her eyes and speaks calmly, “I want to leave now.”
There’s no emotion left. No sadness, no disappointment, no anger. She’s got her mask on, and she’s not giving me anything.
I should make her open up. I shouldn’t let her leave like this.
But it’s what’s best for both of us. She’s a cop, and I’m mobbed up. This shit should’ve never happened.
“Alright.” I stand back and let her open the door. I fucking hate that I feel anything for her. She’s a cop. I have to keep repeating it in my head. I have to remember I can’t have her. I’ve been ordered to stay away from her. I shouldn’t have let it get this far. This is bad. I don’t know what I was thinking.
“Can you just tell me one thing?” she asks, as she steps out into the hallway. “Is Petrov dead?” She looks up at me with nothing in her eyes, no emotion. Not a damn thing.
I bite the inside of my cheek fucking hating that she’s asking that.
“You know I can’t tell you anything. Stop asking me. I’m not gonna answer.” I can’t. I’d be a stupid prick to admit anything.
“Yeah, I figured. Couldn’t hurt to ask one more time though.” She walks down the hallway without looking back.
I feel fucking used. But what’s worse is that I want to stop her. I want to tell her how he suffered. How a woman who he tortured killed him. But I can’t.
Instead I stand in my doorway and listen to her steps. I grip the door jamb tighter as I hear the door open and listen as she leaves.
Fuck, I want to tell her. And that’s not good. None of this is good.
Tonya
I’m not gonna cry. I don’t fucking cry. Sure as shit not over men. I’ve had a few boyfriends here and there, but that’s never happened to me. It’s never been a hit it and quit it situation. And sure as fuck not five minutes after cumming inside of me. Asshole. He didn’t kick me out, but he could’ve picked a better time to start talking like that.
It was a mistake. I know that. It never should’ve happened. I have more restraint than that. I don’t know what it is about him that makes me so weak. I cave to him, when I haven’t ever caved before. I don’t like it. I also don’t like that he brought it up first. I was thinking it, but I was pushing it down.
It just felt so nice to be held. It’s been a long time. I feel so fucking deprived of human interaction. It’s been too fucking long. I take a deep breath as I lie down on my bed. It’s cold. But it feels good to just relax against the bed. I snort a humorless laugh.
I shouldn’t be relaxing. I shouldn’t even want that. I’ve lost sight of my purpose. I swore I wouldn’t stop until I found Petrov and destroyed him and everyone who works for him. It's like I was wearing blinders all through the academy. I didn’t even care about how much my body hurt. Nothing else mattered. I was just obsessed at taking a leap forward.
And then my huge break when the department had an opening was as if the stars had aligned. Like God was handing me my revenge on a silver platter. But then nothing. Not a fucking trace of him. The other names on my list are all dead. There are no leads. I shouldn’t be relaxing, but I don’t know what else to do.
It’s as if I’ve been running as hard and as fast as I’m able, chasing a ghost. And now he’s disappeared, and I’m finally taking a look around.
How did I get here? This isn’t what I went to college for. This isn’t what I wanted to do. My life wasn’t supposed to end up like this. Even back then I wasn’t really sure what I wanted, but the shit I was studying was at least interesting. All of this is just depressing as fuck.
But I owe it to my sister. She was older than me. Only by three years. She was reserved and polite. I was the handful child that always got into trouble. Maybe that’s why I never got along with my mother. I don’t know. But that relationship completely vanished when Melissa died. My mother couldn’t take it. She’s not a fighter like me.
The night Melissa didn’t come back, my mom was sure she was dead. The next morning when I went looking for her, putting up signs and waiting for the police to actually do something, my mother did nothing but cry. I was pissed. She wasn’t even trying. I think she buried Melissa that day. And what was left of her own soul.
Ever since I’ve been so fucking alone.
Melissa could’ve been trapped. She could have hit her head somehow and been unconscious. A million scenarios ran through my head. I knew deep inside me that she needed me. She needed us. Yet my mother did nothing but sob inconsolably.
I hated her then. It was like I could feel my sister’s pain, and I tried so fucking hard. I looked everywhere I could. But I never would have found her. I was looking in all the wrong places.
It wasn’t long after that when her body was discovered. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t imagine that someone would take her. After the shock and the sadness, all that was left was anger. I knew I had to do something.
I took a semester off school to join the groups that all promise to bring awareness to sex trafficking. I went to meetings, presentations, and counseling. But it didn’t feel like enough. More than that, I saw my sister in the women who survived. I could see her in their place.
But I knew she’d never be there. She was dead. She wasn’t ever going to sit in the chair across from me, and tell me what happened to her. She wasn’t going to be making plans with me on how to handle simple, everyday tasks that now felt impossible. I had to stop going.
I needed to go after the man who'd led her to her death.
I feel like it was just yesterday that I’d made up my mind to chase after Petrov. Like I'd gone into a dark tunnel and sprinted through it blindly, only to emerge and not realize where it was taking me.
He may be dead. I may never get to face him. I may never even know for sure. But I won’t stop.
The rest of the Valettis know something, and I can question them. Well, I can try. I know it’s risky. But I have to try. I’ll do anything to make sure Petrov never puts his hands on another woman. I hope he suffered. Tears leak down my face and hit the pillow beneath me. A sob tears through me, and I have no idea where it came from.
My anger is waning, knowing he may no longer be alive. What’s left if I don’t have the anger to hold onto? My chest feels hollow. And I can’t stand the distant feeling of sadness.
I wish I knew one way or the other.
He could’ve at least told me. Thinking of Thomas makes the pain subside, if only for a moment. He made me weak. I enjoyed it though. I’m tired of being the strong one. I’m tired of fighting an enemy I can’t even see. I’m tired of chasing ghosts.
I close my eyes and try to think of anything other than the dark past, and twisted obsession that’s brought me here. I steady my breathing and see Thomas’ face.
I feel his hands on my body. His lips against my neck.
“Bad girl.” The memory of his deep, baritone voice sends a shiver through my body. I can imagine a time when I would have run off with him. When I would have gotten on my knees and done everything and anything he asked, just for the thrill of it.
That time’s passed though. And now neither of us are in a position to allow what we did to ever happen again. My eyes pop open, realizing if he told anyone, I’d lose my job. I expect to feel fear, or shock, or anger at the thought. But I feel nothing. I don’t think I’d care.
It would hurt though, for him to use it against me. He should. If I were him, I would. What we did wasn’t right, and it would certainly add a level of distrust and uncertainty to the case if I got pulled off. It would severely compromise the case.
But the evidence is iffy as is. All we really have are the prints at this point. The tire tracks are circumstantial, and the witness deposition is inadmissible due to her state of mind.
The partial print is the only piece of evidence that’s damning, according to the prosecutor.
There’s no more evidence to collect, and everything we have points to the Valettis ending the deal and saving the women.
I can’t even fathom why Jerry is still gunning for them, unless he’s hoping for the same outcome as Harrison, just in a more professional way. I guess it’s professional to leverage and threat in order to get information for other cases.
The lines are blurred so much more than I ever thought they could be.
And I’m tired of looking at black and white. I rest my head into the pillow and try not to think about any of it at all. I just want to rewind time. I want to go back to the last time I saw Melissa and hold her. If I’d known then, what I know now, I’d never let her go. I don’t care if it’s crazy. I would do anything I could to save her.
The tears come again and I hug my pillow. I can’t save her. I’ll never be able to save her. My throat closes as I sniffle and try to breathe into the pillow.
She’s never coming back. And nothing I’ll ever do can change that.
Tommy
“What the fuck is that broad thinking?” Anthony walks up behind me at the bar, and I have to turn around to face him.
He looks worried. “What are you talking about?” I ask.
“Your chick, Tonya Kelly. The cop.” He says, “the cop” like I wouldn’t know who he’s talking about. My eyes lower to the drink in my hand. I haven’t had one fucking moment go by where I didn’t think about her. From the way she felt writhing beneath me, to the pissed off and hurt look when I shut it down before the situation got any worse than was necessary.
I fucking hate this. I hate that I can’t get her out of my head, and I hate that I can’t have her. I’ve never had this problem before. And I don’t fucking like it.
“What’s she doing?” I ask, looking past him at Vince. Vince is in the corner of the room talking to his brother over a beer. They barely come in here anymore with the kids taking up so much of their time. I hope whatever my bad girl has gotten into, it hasn’t found its way back to either of them.
“She’s about to get slapped with a harassment lawsuit if she keeps her shit up.” I look him dead in the eyes, waiting for more. “She went to Tony's and waited for him outside his house. She keeps pushing for information.” He looks over his shoulder at Vince. “She’s worse than a fucking reporter.”
He turns like he’s gonna go tell Vince, and I stop him. My hand grips his shoulder. His forehead pinches, and his eyes narrow. “What the fuck, Tommy?”
“Don’t tell him, and tell Tony to keep his mouth shut.” He looks at me with disbelief. “I’ll handle it,” I say, standing up from my barstool.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t go around making threats to an officer. You aren’t off the hook yet.”
“That’s not what I have in mind,” I say under my breath.
Anthony closes his eyes and lets his head fall back. “You’re fucking kidding me, Tommy. Tell me you’re not fucking around with her.”
“I’m not.” I’ve never been good at lying, and I sure as shit don’t like lying to him. But it’s partially true.
“Good. That’d be a fucking mistake.”
“Stay out of it, Anthony.” I’m done with this conversation. I turn to walk away and he doesn’t stop me. I feel like a prick, but I’m going after what I want.
Before I make it to the door, Vince and Dom approach me, and I know I need to stop and hear them out. I just hope it’s not about her. She really should know better; she shouldn’t be doing this shit. She’s gonna get herself into deep shit, and I can’t fucking have that happen.
“Tommy, you alright?” Dom asks. I’m sure they can see the stress on my face. I need to man the fuck up and play it cool.
<
br /> “Everything considered, I’m doing just fine.” I talk easy, but the tension in my body is keeping my guard up.
“You know we got you. It’s all gonna be taken care of. Soon, too. We already got the witness stuff thrown out, the prints and the tire tracks are close to being gone too, and then they won’t have shit on you.”
I nod my head, not really listening. I’m sure I’m gonna get off, so I’m not too worried about that. But my bad girl is gonna get herself into some deep shit, and I need to stop that. I don’t want them thinking of her like they do Harrison.
“Has that bitch cop been bugging you?” Vince asks, and it takes everything in me not to make a fist and smash it into his face.
“She’s not a bitch,” I manage to say back, and he doesn’t like that answer. Dom seems surprised and takes a step back. He doesn’t get involved with this shit. I can’t help that the words come out. I don’t like him calling her a bitch. She may be a little rough around the edges. She’s a little pushy, but she’s not a bitch. Nothing about her makes me think that.
“She’s still a cop though, isn’t she?” Vince asks in a hushed voice.
“Yeah she is.” I answer him quickly, wanting to get rid of the tense air between us.
“She still bugging you?”
I answer him honestly. “I haven’t seen her in a few days.”
“Haven’t seen her?” he asks, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. “What’s that mean, Tommy?”
“Means she hasn’t been around to bug me. She’s not like the others, Vince.”
“I don’t like the way you’re talking Tommy.” Vince wraps his arms around my shoulder and leads me to the back room. “You talking like that to anyone else?”
“I haven’t said shit to anyone about anything.” That's always the correct answer to give.
Tempted: A Bad Boy Next Door Romance Page 23