Fall Gently (Red Light: Silver Girls series)

by Debra Kayn

  He looked down at her ass, three inches from his crotch. Never before had he enjoyed having such a small kitchen. "How about burgers?"

  "Okay." She straightened and reached for the freezer door handle.

  He scratched his head at the loss of her. "I changed my mind."

  She glanced over her shoulder. "About dinner or me staying here?"

  "Whoa." He turned her around and kept his hands on her waist. "Where did that question come from?"

  She shrugged. He pulled her closer until she leaned into his lower body. Holding her against him, he exhaled and enjoyed the warmth and feminine curves.

  She yawned. He brought his right hand up and laid her head against his chest. "You're tired. You're scared. You're not cooking dinner tonight."

  "But, you're hungry," she mumbled against his shirt.

  "I'll cook. You'll be the guest tonight, and we can figure who cooks tomorrow." He kissed the top of her head. "Sit down at the table and keep me company while I fry us a burger."

  She looked up at him. "Thank you."

  "For what?" He moved toward the stove.

  "For everything." She sighed. "You've been a saint, and I've put you through a lot."

  He put the skillet on the burner and stepped over to the freezer. He was many things. An asshole, a felon, a son, a brother, a Sparrows.

  He was no saint.

  The frozen pre-made patties broke apart in his hands. He carried two to the skillet and turned the burner on medium-high.

  "How do you like yours cooked?" he asked.

  "Well done."

  "Jacqueline likes them..." He closed his eyes, letting the burn seep into his head.

  There were times he forgot his sister was gone. Those times were worse than living every minute knowing she was dead. He still couldn't believe she'd never run through the door, yapping about some boy who teased her or upset that one of her girlfriends talked behind her back, and Jacqueline would swear she'd never leave the apartment again.

  He'd hated those times after his mom died. Eight years older than Jacqueline, he never wanted to be tied down looking after a sister who pushed and pulled on any given occasion. But, he missed the brat more than anything.

  "You know, it's good for you to talk about her."

  "Nothing to say." He opened his eyes and retrieved the buns and took out the condiments. "Anything you don't like on your hamburger?"

  "Onions," said Roni.

  He cut the head of lettuce, sliced a tomato, opened the jar of pickles, and removed two pieces of pre-sliced cheese before he flipped the burgers.

  "I'll put everything on the buns," she said getting up from her chair.

  He turned and found her right in front of him. "You should rest."

  "I did when you were shopping." She put her hand on the front of the cabinet drawer. "Knives?"

  He nodded, leaning back against the fridge, and watched her. She moved around the kitchen unsure what to do at first and gave him a slight smile before opening the fridge and taking out the jar of mayonnaise. Once she had everything in front of her, she made fast work of dressing the buns.

  Her ass jiggled in her sweatpants when she shook the bottle of ketchup. The base of his spine tingled, and his cock pulsed to life. He couldn't look away. If he reached out, he could touch her and drag her back against him, rub against her ass, bend her over.

  She stepped back and turned right into him. He caught her hips and steadied her.

  "Sorry." She laid her hands on his chest. "I was going to, uh, get the towel...by the sink."

  "The towel?" His fingers smoothed over the slope of her hip.

  "I dribbled some..." She closed her mouth and swallowed, staring up at him. "Pickle juice. On the counter."

  "Leave it," he muttered.

  "What?" Her soft laughter cut off and she stared at her hands planted on his chest.

  The tips of her fingers pressed on him. He let his head fall forward and gazed down at their bodies. She fit perfectly against him. Tall enough to kiss her without breaking his neck, and her legs—fuck, she had long legs. Her hips were at the perfect height for him to guide her.

  Smoke drifted in his peripheral vision. He glanced at the stove.

  "Shit." He let her go, reached over, and took the skillet off the burner.

  Roni picked up the towel and wiped the counter. "They're still eatable."

  He took the patties and put them on the buns. His appetite gone, he wanted to go back to holding Roni and knowing damn well he couldn't.

  Roni carried the plates to the table. He followed, widening his walk to make room for his cock that wouldn't settle down.

  He couldn't stay here and pretend he wasn't thinking about fucking her on the table. "Do you think you'll be okay for an hour or two?"

  "Tonight?" She frowned. "Sure. I mean, if you need to do something, go ahead. I don't want to keep you from what you normally do when you're home."

  He picked up the burger. "I'll lock the door behind me."

  "You're not going to sit and eat first?"

  "Nah. I'll finish eating it before I reach my car." He took a bite and talked around the food as he strolled to the door. "You'll probably be asleep when I get home, so I'll see you in the morning. If you need anything, use your cell phone to reach me."

  He slipped out the door, locking it behind him, and walked down the steps at the end of the hallway. He'd call Scott and have him come back and keep an eye on the building. It was time to check in with Jerald and Luchek and find out if he had a way to support himself and Roni. And, for his sake, he hoped Roni was fast asleep when he returned. He needed relief, and he wasn't going to find it with her shaking her ass in his apartment.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The front door of the apartment opened and shut. Roni stopped pacing the small bedroom. Her whole life she waited for the sound of a door, hating what came next. Nothing good ever happened.

  For the first time, she'd stayed up to listen for Dawson coming home.

  His two hours away had turned into four, and she worried something happened to him. Then she worried that she'd upset him when she'd touched his chest while making dinner.

  The worries continued until she'd made herself sick after finishing her hamburger. She'd lost the contents of her stomach and had to eat ten mints back to back until she convinced herself that Dawson had his life to lead, and whatever kept him away from the apartment had nothing to do with her.

  Another door closed, closer and louder than the first one—his bedroom. She walked over to the door on her bedroom and listened. Her heartbeat filled the silence until another soft click came from the other side of the door, and she assumed he'd reopened his bedroom. He was probably looking for the missing picture and getting madder every second.

  He had a decent apartment with belongings, but not enough clutter that he'd miss something that meant a lot to him not hanging on the wall anymore.

  She put her abused thumbnail in her mouth. The soreness had her changing to her index finger. Over the course of twenty-four hours, she'd bitten her nails down to nothing. She fisted her hand and lowered her arm. Every time Dawson looked at her hands, she wanted to hide them. She'd had the bad habit since childhood and tried everything to quit.

  An impossible task to do when her life was one mistake after another.

  She stared at the empty bed. Her body longed to lay down and sleep. Her mind refused to cooperate.

  Tomorrow would be here soon, and her stress level would continue if she kept the broken picture hidden from Dawson. She covered her mouth and groaned. The one time she broke a drinking glass while washing it in the sink, Vince had locked her in the bedroom naked for two days, sending her six Sparrows members to blow off as punishment.

  She shuddered, making up her mind that she would not live in the past. Dawson was not Vince. He'd proven himself for weeks that she could trust him. Even when she'd treated him badly, he never got mad at her.

  Before she changed her mind, she hurried ove
r to the dresser and collected the frame piled with the broken glass on top. She'd go over to his room, knock, and when he answered, she'd promise to buy him a new one. There was only a small scratch on the photo. It might not even be visible under new glass.

  She'd believed him when he promised to keep her safe, and she assumed that meant from him, too.

  He wouldn't hurt her. He might be mad, but she'd make it up to him somehow. There were a lot of things she could do in the apartment for him. Laundry, dusting, cleaning, cooking.

  She quietly opened the door and peeked out. Dawson's door remained half open, and his room was dark. She inhaled a big breath bolstering her courage and crossed the hallway.

  "Dawson?" she whispered.

  No reply came.

  She widened the door and took one step inside, sure that he'd come home. "Dawson?"

  "Hm?"

  "It's me. Roni." She kept her voice light and grimaced. Of course, he knew it was her. "I need to tell you something."

  Rustling came from the direction of the bed. "What's wrong?"

  The light beside the bed came on. She blinked against the brightness and stared at Dawson sitting up in bed without his shirt on, and the blanket he used to cover up with puddled at his waist.

  "Come here." He patted the bed.

  She gulped. The broken picture frame weighed a ton in her hands, overflowing with her guilt.

  Determined to take the consequences of her actions, she approached the bed and sat down on the edge. Lightheaded from hyperventilating, she remained on full alert for any movement from Dawson. Every instinct, born and bred in her, told her to walk back out of the room and hope he wouldn't realize what she held in her hands.

  Common sense fled knowing she had to do the right thing. It was her first night at his apartment. She needed to start off on a good standing with him in his own home.

  She glanced at Dawson. How perfect he was with his concern, his patience, his incredibly sexy body, and his ability to control his emotions until he hid everything from her.

  "Sweetheart, what's going on?" Dawson hooked his finger under her chin and turned her gaze on him.

  "Earlier, when you went grocery shopping, and I was in Jacqueline's old bedroom, I noticed your bedroom was right across the hall, and the door was open." Her dry mouth made forming her apology difficult. "I went inside your bedroom."

  "That's okay." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "You can go wherever you want in the apartment. It's now your home, too. I think as long as we respect each other and when a door is shut, we knock, that's all we need."

  Her vision blurred, and she failed to blink the tears away. She placed the broken picture frame on his blanket covered thighs. "I looked at the pictures you had on your wall and knocked one off, and the picture frame broke. I'm so sorry. I cleaned up all the pieces of glass and made sure you wouldn't step on any. I'll buy you a new frame or give you money, and you can buy another one. The picture has a little scratch, and I'm sorry—"

  "Roni." He set the frame piled with shards of glass on the nightstand and then pulled her into his arms.

  Her feet swung up on the bed with the motion of her upper body pitching toward him. She laid her head on his warm, broad, naked chest and cried. The anxiety over worrying if he'd hit or punish her when he found out the truth humbled her at his accepting attitude.

  He stroked her back. "Let it out, sweetheart. You've been strong for too long."

  She wrapped her arms around him, soaking up his comfort. The last time she remembered someone letting her have a cry, to let everything go, and trust that it would be okay to be weak for a moment was when her mom snuggled her in bed after she'd made a goal in soccer for the other team. In her excitement, she never paid attention to which direction she ran or the shouts to go the other way. She'd kicked and ran and barely contained her excitement at foreseeing herself as a valuable player to the team. But when her mom comforted her, she made everything okay by accepting her mistake and ultimately making her laugh and to learn how unimportant one moment in time was in the grand scheme of life.

  What Dawson gave her only made her feel the loss of having someone comfort her through her next mistake and the many mistakes that would come afterward. He wouldn't be with her to cry on, and she'd never feel his strong arms around her again.

  She wet his skin with her tears, and still she held on to him until the awful feeling turned into something good and she let go and relied on Dawson to take care of her. Thankful that tonight, she had somewhere to sleep, food in her stomach, and she was safe, even if the situation with Dawson was temporary.

  Later, Dawson's backrubs, his kisses to the top of her head, and the husky comfort of his voice relaxed her enough she closed her eyes. When he flipped the comforter over the top of her and scooted down in bed taking her with him. She held on tighter.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  "I can't believe how much stuff I bought." Roni hugged the bags to her body to keep the handles from digging into her arms. "I'll never use this many clothes in my lifetime."

  Dawson unlocked the door to the apartment, holding the same amount of bags, and kicked the door open. "Not all of it is yours."

  She scoffed squeezing past him and walked inside the apartment. "You've got one sack full of socks and boxers. That doesn't even count as clothes."

  "I also bought deodorant." He laughed.

  She glanced up at him and smiled. "Thank you for talking me into going."

  After three days inside the apartment, Dawson woke her up and told her to get ready to go shopping. She rolled out of his bed where she'd sought comfort to sleep—again—and tried her best to convince him he could go alone. She had no idea he planned to trick her into buying herself new clothes.

  "It had to get done," he said.

  She dropped all the sacks on the floor and rubbed the indention marks out of her forearms where the weight of the bags cut into her. "Do you think I bought dressy enough clothes to impress someone when I go on interviews?"

  "Yeah." He placed the bags he carried beside the pile and picked out his socks and underwear. "I guess if you get hired at some ritzy place you'll need to get more clothes, but you've got a dress you can use until you know you have the job. The other stuff is fine for Seattle. It's what I see most girls wearing."

  She grinned. "Cool."

  He cocked his head. "You've never gone shopping for yourself before now?"

  She shook her head. "When I was younger with my mom, but it wasn't the same. I never paid attention to prices and she bought everything for me. When I was in high school and had to buy clothes for myself, I went to Goodwill and bought second-hand stuff because I had to use the money I'd saved from babysitting the kids next door during the summer. Today, I paid for brand new clothes with the money I earned. It felt good knowing I earned everything."

  He chuckled. "If that makes you happy, I should've made you pay for my stuff, too."

  "I would've." She grabbed her purse. "In fact, let me give you some money. You know, for rent and electricity. That kind of thing."

  He reached out and stopped her from pulling out the cash she'd carried with her today. "You're not paying me."

  "I think I should." She softened her voice. "It's the right thing to do, Dawson. You've changed your whole routine going and finding me in Idaho and bringing me back to Seattle. Now I'm interrupting your lifestyle at home, and you could be doing something else besides babysitting me."

  "Let's worry about it after you get a job. Use your money for you." He walked into the kitchen.

  She exhaled loudly. At times, he could be stubborn. There was no talking to him when he'd made up his mind.

  Giving him space, she made three trips to her room to put her bags away. Later, she'd go through all the clothes and take the tags off. She stood over the pile and hugged her middle. The satisfaction of clothing herself and having choices on what to wear every day came as a surprise.

  Used to Vince buying her expensive gowns she could n
ever wear out of the house because he prevented her from going anywhere, she loved knowing the clothes she picked out were only for her pleasure and comfort. Even while shopping, Dawson wouldn't give her his opinion on what to buy when she held up a shirt or a pair of jeans.

  She'd tried to get him interested by showing him deep necked shirts meant to hug her curves, and he only grinned and started looking at something else inside the store. Left on her own, she bought what she'd always admired on other women and wanted for herself.

  "Hey," said Dawson from out in the hallway. "I put a frozen lasagna in the oven. You okay with that for dinner?"

  She walked over to him and stood in the open door. "Sure. Anything I can do to help?"

  "Nope." He gazed over her shoulder into the bedroom and frowned. "It's not the room for you, is it?"

  She glanced over her shoulder, and her stomach tightened. Everything in the small bedroom reminded her of Jacqueline, and she hadn't even known her friend before getting to know her at Vince's house. Every night, she tried to sleep in the single bed but found herself looking at the posters and the hairbrush left out. Bits and pieces of a life that were cut short.

  "It's fine," she whispered, knowing tonight would be the same and eventually she'd think of something to ask Dawson when he went to bed and hoped he invited her to lay down with him in his room.

  "No, it's not okay." He looked at her. "I have more room in my closet for your clothes and since you sleep better in a bigger bed, go ahead and stay in my room."

  "God, you can't do that for me," she said. "I'm not kicking you out of your bed."

  "You're not." He walked past her and picked up a few bags. "We can share. It's no big deal. We've been sleeping in the same bed off and on for almost three months."

  She raised her brows and stared after him as he went back and forth moving her into his bedroom. Half hopeful that his change of mind meant he liked having her close to him in the same way she enjoyed knowing he was there to put his hand on the back of her neck while she slept.

  He stopped in front of her, grasped her upper arms and moved her to the hallway, then shut the bedroom door. "There. It's settled."