by Cecy Robson
My stomach clenches tight. Fuck you.
Despite my vicious thoughts, the venom in his voice causes me to recoil, exactly like it’s done all my life, starting when I was just a little girl who simply needed her father’s love.
I lower my eyelids and take a breath when he storms off. This fear, it doesn’t come on suddenly. It’s always there, lurking beneath the surface just as he intended.
When did it start? I don’t know. If I had to guess, it likely started in infancy.
My earliest memory is of him ramming his fist between my shoulder blades and wrenching my shoulders back to “teach me” to stand straight and not slouch. I couldn’t have been more than three. But I recall that moment, and remember the feel of his knuckles against my small spine, just like I remember my heart breaking and my mother urging me not to cry, because “you’ll make your father mad.”
He’d smack my mouth if I didn’t speak clearly, or if I used words he believed were too simplistic. He’d make me wait to eat until he finished his meal to demonstrate he didn’t owe me anything, not even food. I wasn’t allowed to play around him. I wasn’t permitted to speak unless spoken to, and I couldn’t “behave like a child”—even when I was one.
This isn’t a form of abuse most read about online, or catch on the evening news. It doesn’t cause “real” bruises, but it bruises the soul.
It’s real. It controls. It hurts. And it’s effective. So for me to argue or speak to him like I did is unheard of. But, God, I’m tired, tired of taking his orders, tired of allowing him to belittle me, and tired of permitting his mistreatment.
I’m barely aware of his voice, and of the small clicking noises at the register as he completes the transaction, his words and anger leaving me as weak as if he’d beaten me with his hands.
It’s all I can do not to collapse.
He leaves then, with Mallory close at his heels. The hideous dress is my first punishment. The abandonment is my second. My third will likely be waiting for me in my apartment, but I won’t find it anytime soon.
I’m on the other side of town, miles from my apartment. My father left with the person who brought me. He intends to make me walk so I can think about my actions, and so he can occupy my thoughts. He didn’t bother leaving me money for a cab or asking if I brought my bus pass. And he knows I don’t have a phone.
He assumes I’m alone.
But I’m not alone.
Curran followed me here.
He shadowed Mallory’s car without her knowing, which is perfect. I don’t want Father to know I’m under surveillance. And if Mallory knew, she’d run and tell him.
Initially, I panicked over how Curran would react following our kiss. Now, I’m panicking over what he’ll say when he realizes Mallory left without me. I don’t want him to know I was dumped like a piece of trash.
I hurry outside, only to have the owner stop me. “Miss, you forgot your dress!”
I groan and wait for her to hand me the oversized box. “Thank you,” I say, although I don’t really mean it.
With the box tucked beneath my arm, I step outside, searching for Curran. Several stores surround the area and the lot is completely full. At first, I can’t find him, and wonder if another patrol took over. My shoulders relax when I see him step out of his dark blue F-150.
“Hi,” I say when I reach him.
He motions to the dress with his chin. “New argyles?” he asks. My expression shatters before I can stop it, erasing Curran’s grin. “Okay. Forget I asked.”
I quickly compose myself, or at least, I try. “I needed a dress. I have a social event to attend next week,” I mutter.
“You mean like a date?”
His question surprises me. “Something like that.”
“With the judge’s law clerk?”
“No.” I frown a little. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugs. “Just curious. He’s the only guy you’ve been with.”
I meet his eyes. “No. Not the only one.”
Curran works his jaw but says nothing. I glance away, trying not to focus on those soft lips. “If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind taking me home?” I ask.
“I was wondering about that, seeing how that lady you came with left you here.”
Oh, boy, here we go. “She’s my stepmother. She had a meeting to attend.”
“With your dad?” He cocks his head when he catches my surprise. “I saw him, Tess. He pulled into the lot less than a minute after you walked into the shop.”
And yet he waited before entering. Not that I’m shocked. My father likes me to think I’m always being watched.
“You okay, Tess?”
I nod, but in truth, I’m not feeling well.
“When did you eat last?” he asks.
“What?”
His frown deepens. “I asked when was the last time you ate?”
“Last night. At dinner.”
“It’s almost two o’clock now.”
I rearrange the large box in my arms. “I don’t typically eat breakfast.”
“This isn’t breakfast, and you’re way past lunch. Why haven’t you eaten?”
I don’t miss the anger in his tone, although I’m not sure where it’s coming from. “I planned to wait until I returned to my apartment.”
“The way you look, you’re not going to make it back to your place.”
I shift uncomfortably. “What’s wrong with the way I look?”
He considers his words. “Nothing. You just look like you could eat, that’s all.” He surprises me by slipping his arm around my shoulders and leading me forward. “Come on. I know this perfect place to get some steaks.”
I try to shift from his hold. “Curran, I can’t. I don’t have any money.”
“I’m not asking you to pay,” he says, like it’s obvious.
He releases me when it occurs to him he’s holding me close. Apparently, it wasn’t a conscious effort. As I watch, he marches toward his truck as if trying to put space between us.
I don’t follow, confused by his actions. “Do you think this is wise?”
He glances over his shoulder. “What? Eating? Hell, yeah. You look ready to fall over.”
I focus on the bright gold ribbon sealing the box as he returns to stand directly in front of me. “What I mean is, do you think it’s wise for us to go out together?” I take a breath. “Last night when you kissed me, you told me you made a mistake. Did you mean that?”
Curran watches me with his hands shoved deep in his pockets for what seems like too long. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
I raise my chin, feeling my body warm. “Okay. Maybe you’re right.”
He passes a hand through his hair when I make no effort to move. “Look, let’s just go eat. Okay? I wasn’t kidding when I said you look ready to pass out.”
I follow him to his truck, even though by now, I’m ready to crawl beneath the nearest rock. He opens the door for me and shuts it tight once I slip inside.
As I watch him walk around to the other side, streams of sunlight strike his head, brightening his hair and shimmering his irises.
I steal a long glance at his rugged features and at his fine ass in those jeans before he climbs in and starts the engine with a roar. It’s a shame those sweet lips and firm cheeks want nothing of my touch, but in a way, maybe it’s best.
I meant what I said. The right job and the right opportunities can slip away if those who can help me regard me as less than professional…including this alluring man who’s witnessed the real side of me.
Chapter 9
Curran
We enter Sal’s Sports Bar just before the big game and about five minutes before the place is overtaken by angry 76ers fans out for blood. Two plates are slammed down, topped with Sal’s infamous cheesesteaks and spilling with chips. One for me. One for Tess. Perfect.
“That’s a lot of food,” she says, gaping at her plate.
“Yup. Sal’s known for his portions.” I take a bite when
Sal’s wife, Mina, drops off my milkshake. “Thanks, Mina,” I say through a mouthful of food.
“No problem, Curran. Tell your ma hi for me.”
“Sure thing, Mina.” I lift the shake to take a sip in time to catch Tess eyeing it up. I offer it to her. “Here.”
She shakes her head. “Ah, no. I shouldn’t.”
“I haven’t touched it yet.”
She laughs a little. “It’s not that. It’s the calories.”
“What about them?”
“My weight is carefully managed,” she explains slowly, a bit of a sting to her tone. “I’ve gained quite a few pounds since we graduated college.”
“I noticed. And every last one looks damn good—” I stop myself a little too late. Rather than make another stupid comment or keep focusing on her rack, I dig into my steak like a linebacker following the playoffs. Her thin brows lift, reflecting her surprise.
Nice, Curran. Real nice. I need to keep my thoughts to myself. But since I kissed Tess, it’s all I can think about. That, and kissing a lot more than just her mouth.
Last night, seeing how I couldn’t sleep, I almost called downtown and asked to switch with a different badge. Two things stopped me: I didn’t want to be a pussy, and I didn’t want to not see Tess. But it was the latter that kept me up in more ways than one.
Again, I watch her take small, delicate bites, relishing every morsel with her eyelids closed. Man, what I wouldn’t give to have those lids flutter for me as I plow into her with everything I have.
“Shit.”
She swallows. “What’s wrong?”
“Ah, nothing. I think I left my lights on.”
She glances out the window and in the direction of the lot. “Aren’t they automatic?”
Shit again. “Yeah. They are.” I push my milkshake closer to her. “Here. Try it. It’s vanilla with chunks of pineapple.”
She pauses, but then lifts the glass and takes a sip, dripping the ice cream against her lips. And man, I swear that’s the last thing I need to see. She laughs and licks her lips. Okay, scratch what I said. That’s the last thing I need to see.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be so messy.” She licks her lips again. And again.
Aw, hell. I dive into my food like Ma’s life depends on it. “May I have some more?” she asks in her sexy voice.
“Baby, take every last swallow.” I cringe when I realize how that sounded, only to swear out loud again when she looks at me like I’m nuts.
“Thank you,” she says, quietly.
We don’t speak again until the end of the meal. With the exception of a few pieces of bread and some chips, Tess ate the whole thing, albeit in that careful way of hers.
I steal a chip from her plate and munch. She keeps quiet with her hands wrapped around her glass of iced tea. “Food okay?” I ask her.
She tries to smile. “It was delicious. Thank you.”
“Then what’s up?” I ask, aware that something is.
“Well, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the night we…you know.”
I roll my eyes. “Tell me about it. We fucked like gorillas.”
Her jaw pops open. “Curran. That’s so offensive!”
“Sorry,” I offer. “I didn’t mean to call you a gorilla.”
For a second there, I’m not sure if she’s going to throat-punch me. But I can’t hide my smirk, and she can’t hide her laugh. Okay. Good. We’re headed in the right direction. The proper direction. The one that doesn’t involve me hooking the crotch of her panties with my finger and ripping them off her.
I rub my face. Christ.
She shoves my shoulder playfully. Well, at least she tries to. It’s a cute move. Too cute. Damn, I want her.
She shakes her head. “Officer O’Brien, you have absolutely no class.”
“I’m the classiest guy you’ll ever meet, angel face.”
She takes a sip of her tea. “Somehow I doubt that.”
Her smile returns when she places her glass back on the checkered tablecloth, lighting her perfect features. It’s then I realize there’s no going back.
So I go for it.
“Why do you have a problem with what happened between us?”
Her stare falls to the table. “You know why. It’s not the sort of behavior I ever engaged in.” She lowers her voice. “And I deeply regret it.”
Her thick lashes brush against her lenses as she waits for me to speak. The color’s returned to her cheeks, and her hair falls around her shoulders in sensual waves. God damn she’s beautiful.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and tell myself, Self, you just need to calm your shit and move on. Tell her it’s all good and not to worry. That you’ve forgotten all about that night and haven’t given it another thought. Well, given I’m kind of an asshole, and I don’t listen to assholes, I ignore me.
I lean forward so my face is only a few inches from hers. “Did you like it?”
She lifts her chin. “What?”
“Did you like it? Did it feel good?”
She opens and closes her mouth several times, just like she does whenever I tell her something she might not want to hear. She then glances around to see who’s listening before hunkering in close. “What does that have to do with anything?” she whispers, tightly.
I give her a one-shoulder shrug. “Just answer the question.”
Tess presses her full lips together, and for a second, I’m sure she’s going to lie and say no. Then I see it, that spark in her eyes that tells me she’s remembering what I did, and maybe how I held her hair when she fell to her knees and pulled me into her mouth. “Yes,” she answers. “I did like it.”
I latch on to her gaze and hold it. It’s only for a moment, but it’s long enough to show her that I know she’s thinking about us, and what we did. I take a sip of my water. “Then what’s to regret?” I lean back, pretending not to care, and that the conversation is over. But I’m a man, after all, and now I can’t shake the image of her riding me hard.
Shit.
“Did you like it?” she asks, barely above a whisper.
I pause before reaching for my water glass again. Yeah, the old jeans aren’t as loose as when I first sat down. “Sure.” Another sip, another stretch against the denim.
“That’s it?” she asks. “That’s all you’re going to say.”
I grin then. “Were you expecting something else?”
She adjusts her glasses. Aw, hell, did I mention she does naughty librarian well? “I just thought you’d elaborate,” she stammers. “You always have a lot to say.”
I laugh. “You saying I run my mouth?”
Her voice quiets. “Not when it matters, Curran.”
Ouch.
Considering she called me out, I don’t say anything right away. My eyes travel to her neckline. It’s high enough to be respectable, but low enough to give me a peek at the swells of her breasts. My jeans tighten further when I think how good it’d feel to give those nipples a flick. “You want me to elaborate?” I ask, my voice deepening.
“No.”
“No?”
She plays with her hands, growing flustered. “I just assumed you would.”
I think back to that night, how we couldn’t stop touching each other or driving each other wild. And yeah, maybe I also think about how those doe eyes watched me when she swallowed before I threw her on the bed and returned the favor tenfold.
Maybe that’s why I shoot off my mouth before I can stop myself. “I like the way you tasted,” I admit.
Her fingers tighten around her glass. “Tasted?” she squeaks.
“That’s right.” I finish my water, slowly, as if my comment’s no big deal. As if I’m not popping enough wood to shame a forest.
I fix my attention on the giant flat screen, where the 76ers are trying to keep the Bulls from scoring. It looks like a good game, but all I see is Tess and her spread legs, begging me for it.
I’m hard as a bowling pin and there’s not a damn thing I c
an do about it. Not here, and not with Tess.
As the game progresses, I settle enough to stand, but not enough to walk straight.
I can’t forget my time with Tess.
Or that she’s close enough to touch.
“Come on,” I tell her. “I’ll take you home.”
We reach the car as the first few snowflakes break through the clouds. She slips inside quietly when I open her door, keeping her face away from mine. It’s just as well. Declan would beat my ass if he knew I crossed a line. For all the ball-busting I do, the job means everything to me. I can’t jeopardize it for a skirt.
No matter how pretty that skirt is.
The flakes morph from the thick ones that don’t quite stick to the little bastard ones that do. This is the type of snow that causes roads to ice over and businesses to shut down. Already a good chunk of it is accumulating on the wipers. I adjust their speed as we draw closer to Tess’s place, but by the time I pull into the lot, they’re on their highest setting.
I park as close as I can to the door and cut the engine, snagging her arm when she opens the door. “Wait. Don’t get out without me. You’re gonna kill yourself in those shoes.”
I walk around and help her out. She wraps her arms around mine. “Is this okay?” she asks carefully, motioning to the way she’s holding me.
And damn it all, her doe eyes are looking up at me again. “Yeah. Sure,” I say, leading her forward, my voice gruff.
Her arms slide away from mine as we wait for the elevator. Neither of us speaks. Maybe it’s better this way, I tell myself.
I step through when the doors open on her floor, making sure everything’s clear before allowing her into the hall. It’s too cold to wait in my car. I’ll probably have to keep watch from the chair at the end of the hall until Lu arrives.
It’s going to be a long few hours. Not just because of my stakeout point, but because of all my thoughts revolving around Tess’s panties hitting the floor.
Sports. Think sports, asshole.
I press my back against the wall as I wait for her to unlock her apartment. She fumbles with her keys, appearing to struggle with the one to her deadbolt. Her hands are shaking; she’s probably cold.