by Cecy Robson
“Here. I got it,” I say, lifting the keys from her hand.
I unlock the door and push it open before dropping her keys into her open palm. “Thank you,” she says, noticing that I’m doing my best not to touch her.
Without another word, I proceed ahead and do a full sweep of her apartment. When I’m done, I notice she’s still waiting by the door. She hung up her coat and placed her purse on the antique table, but that shouldn’t have taken her long. Why is she still standing there?
She inches forward so she’s just in front of that hall table, her hands folded over her flat stomach. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I say, wondering why she seems on edge. I prowl forward when she doesn’t move and stop directly in front of her. “What’s up?”
“When you said—” She clears her throat and looks around. But there’s not much there.
It’s just me and her.
“Just say it,” I tell her, my voice unusually tight.
Again, she clears her throat, this time meeting me square in the face. “When you said you liked how I tasted, you weren’t talking about the way we kissed, were you?”
It’s as if every shred of body heat heads south and straight into my erection. “No,” I bite out.
I’m not sure who leans in first, and I don’t care. Our lips smash into each other and our bodies collide.
My hands immediately grab her hips, smoothing down to palm her ass. I back her into the table, barely managing to flip the deadbolt while she yanks off my jacket.
We’re all over each other. My fingers, they can’t keep still. They rake up her body, tangling in her hair as I pull her closer and deepen our kiss. My opposite hand trails from the nape of her neck to her breasts and back up, teasing her as it slides along the silky fabric. She moans. She likes it. Maybe she’ll like this, too.
I curl my body to shove my hand beneath her long skirt. She breaks our kiss, groaning when I rub my fingers along the crotch of her panties. “Do you want me to stop?” I rasp against her ear.
“No,” she whimpers. “Please don’t stop.”
It’s all I need to hear. I tear off her panties and hoist her onto the small table. “Open your legs for me, beautiful.”
Her head falls against the wall as she complies, pulling her skirt up and dropping her knees open. She gasps when I part her folds, my tongue immediately finding the spot I need.
I don’t just lick, or suck, or nibble. I devour her soft flesh, pulling it into my hot mouth.
Tess cries out, her pelvis tilting back and forth against my face, her movements fast and forcing the table to slam in a perfect beat against the wall. “Curran,” she gasps. “God, Curran.”
Her hands smooth over my head, pulling me closer and deeper. I shove her knees out, extending her as far as she can go, knowing I need more of her.
She comes with a loud grunt, but it’s not loud enough. So I keep going, until those grunts turn into throaty screams.
My erection punches against my jeans. The moment her hold on me loosens, and the trembles of her thighs subside, I back away, barely managing to keep my feet when I reach for my jacket.
Her breath is labored, her skin is flushed, and her blouse is clinging to her sweat-soaked body. For a moment, all she does is watch me, her glazed eyes locked on my face. As her flaccid legs drop, and she releases her long skirt, I back into the hall and stumble out the door.
Pain throbs where all my blood is pooling, and every movement fucking kills, but I manage a wink before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “ ’Night, Tess.”
I shut the door and stagger into the elevator when it dings open. Christ. Now what? And what the hell am I going to do about—
The doors start closing when Tess bolts toward me, her fist striking the button to stop the elevator between floors. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t have to. Her actions are loud enough. She throws herself against me, kissing me for all she’s worth.
I drag her closer, letting her tongue savor every bit of me mixed with her. She hasn’t bothered to pull on panties. Her bare ass gripped in my hands is proof of that. I moan against her lips, wanting to go down on her again. But this time, she’s the one who wants to play. She tugs down my jeans, reaches inside my briefs, and takes me deep into her mouth.
My back crashes into the wall. Oh, fuck.
The feel of her has me groaning. I’ve never been loud when I’ve messed around. But I am now. And so is Tess, the popping sound of her tightening lips throwing me over the edge.
My hands fist her hair while she digs her nails into my hips, encouraging me to pump. She works me, tapering her seal, sucking firmly, rubbing fast. But it’s not until I come that she meets my eyes again, finishing me off with those perfect lips.
This time, it’s her turn to stumble when she stands, her turn to stagger away slowly. She hits a few buttons, returning the elevator to her floor, her eyes never leaving mine.
The doors open and she steps out, smiling playfully as she wipes her mouth. “Good night, Curran,” she sings. She gives me her back, but then pauses to toss me an impish glance over her shoulder. “By the way, I like how you taste, too.”
The doors slam shut. It’s only then I remember my jeans are draped around my ankles.
Chapter 10
Tess
It takes all the energy I have not to collapse and crawl back into my apartment. Good heavens, what did I do? I swallow hard.
Oh, yes, that.
I shut my door behind me, lock it, and slide my back against it and down to the floor.
The wood floor feels cold against my backside and a cool chill greets my spread legs. It’s because your panties are over there, I remind myself.
Curran didn’t notice my generic underwear. But even if he had, I don’t think he cared. I hadn’t cared. And in remembering how his tongue swirled and his lips suckled, I don’t think…wait, what’s my name again?
My head spins as I think about how I clutched him against me, how I didn’t want him to stop, and how I screamed for more. I want him. There’s no denying it now.
Even though I probably shouldn’t have him.
I wrench myself from the floor, my hot skin cooling quickly as I wander into the kitchen. I wash my hands, then open the refrigerator door to sort through what remains.
Damnit. I have just enough food to get through the weekend before the grocery clerk delivers more on Monday. If Curran hadn’t taken me out to eat, I would have gone hungry today. Although I’m typically more careful, I hadn’t rationed out my food allotment for the week appropriately.
I check the bundle of kale. Although I’ve developed a tremendous distaste for it, I’m sad to find that the edges have begun to wilt. The late nights of helping Declan this week, followed by the even later nights of studying, had demanded more calories to help me function. And kale, let me tell you, doesn’t quite cut it.
I shut the crisper tight, knowing I’ll need more food to keep going. But I don’t dare make that request now. Father’s still pissed. I don’t have to call him to know that.
Well, today he’s not alone.
The strict meal plan he concocted infuriates me. So does his notion that I’m putting on too much weight—especially knowing how badly I struggled with anorexia. Jesus, it’s not enough to buy me clothes I despise, or keep me from making friends by denying me a phone and a car, and sticking me in a place where only elderly people live. He won’t let me work to earn my own money—and he doesn’t give me any money to live on. Nothing. Not even enough to buy myself a cup of coffee.
Around Christmas, he gave me twenty dollars. It joined the almost one hundred dollars I’ve saved throughout the last two years. “What do you need with more of my money?” he asked the last time I worked up the courage to request an allowance. “I already provide you with a home, clothing, and food.”
Is this crazy—like batshit crazy? Yes. Of course it is! I doubt, though, that many people would understand why I tolerate it.
What
it comes down to is fear. Fear of making him angry, which my mother always warned me against. Fear he’ll hurt me physically, like he did so many times when I was young, and frail, and helpless. Fear I’ll be homeless and alone.
To some, this fear isn’t rational. To me, it’s all I’ve ever known. That, and his severe control.
I don’t have a bank account and I don’t have any credit. He’s told me that if I get a job, he’ll cut me off and I’ll be burdened with rent and utilities I can’t afford and saddled with several hundred thousand dollars in tuition. I’ve tried to apply for academic scholarships, only to have an administrator call my father and be forced to withdraw my application.
My father has me right where he wants me, and he knows it. And every time I focus on what a tyrant he is, I become blind with anger. And yet, even my anger isn’t enough to stop me from being afraid.
This time, though, my emotions fizzle before they threaten to choke me. I shut the stainless-steel door. Curran’s kindness saved me from hunger, but his touch…now, that did a lot more.
I don’t realize I’m smiling until the phone rings and I sense my good humor fade. Father’s likely calling to inform me of my latest punishment.
“Hello?” I answer, my tone clipped.
“I take it it wasn’t as good for you as it was for me?” Curran asks on the other end.
My skin prickles with heat. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
He pauses. “Another guy?”
“No!” I shake out my hand, trying to settle. “Not like that. Not like you.”
“Not like what we just did?”
I fall against my couch. “No, nothing like that.” Ah, and there’s my smile again.
“Good,” he says.
I think I should say something more; instead I wait for him to speak.
“So,” he says. “We messed around. Like, a lot.”
I sense the regret in his voice. “Curran, don’t,” I find myself pleading.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t tell me that you’re sorry, or that you didn’t mean it.” Seeing as your tongue told a different tale.
“It’s not that I didn’t like it, or didn’t want what happened, ’cause I did.”
“Then why do you sound so upset?”
“Tess, it’s my job to watch you. I don’t get paid to go down on you.”
His bluntness catches me off guard, and perhaps it does him, too. “Well, you know what I mean,” he adds.
“You were watching me.” I grimace when I hear him laugh. “Not during the act, but when I— What I’m trying to explain is that regardless of what occurred between us, you performed well—”
“I could tell by the way you were screaming.”
Good. Lord. I clear my throat. “What I mean is you swept the apartment for any potential threats—”
“And then yanked off your panties like a teen trying to get laid,” he reminds me.
Curran really has a talent for stopping me in my tracks. Despite my litigation training, I can barely find my voice. “And—and you made sure I was safe—”
“Up until I tossed you on the table and spread your legs wide open.”
Perspiration builds between my breasts. “My point is, you made sure all was well before we, I mean, before you did what you did.”
“How about afterward? Did I make sure all was well after you left me in the elevator? Nope. While I was trying to pull up my pants, some psycho could have come out of your neighbor’s apartment and killed you.”
“That was my fault. You were distracted following the, ah, attention I gave you.”
“And that’s exactly my point. I’m on duty, Tess. This can’t happen again.”
In the silence that follows, I notice how cold my apartment is. As I consider what to say, I wander into my bedroom to check the thermostat. I stop dead when I see the note my father taped beside it.
Contessa,
I think you need reminding who provides you a home to reside in, and all the luxuries that come with it. Your heat has been disconnected. It will remain that way for the rest of the week to give you time to reflect on my generosity and how quickly it can abandon you.
He signed it Donald Newart II.
Damnit. It’s a wonder he didn’t disconnect all my utilities! “Are you saying you don’t want me?” I manage, the hostility directed at my father finding its way to my voice.
“No.” Curran’s tone is absolute. “I’m only saying I can’t have you when I’m on the job.”
Good to know. “What time is your shift over?”
The allure in my voice is clear, and Curran doesn’t hesitate. “A couple of hours.”
I crumple the note with my free hand. “Well then, let’s say in a couple of hours you pay me a visit. It’s cold in my apartment. How would you like to keep me warm?”
Curran
Holy shit.
It’s the same thing I’ve said for the last couple of hours since I disconnected with Tess. I glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes till Lu arrives.
That means seventeen left until I’m back with Tess.
I hit my wipers. Five inches of snow has fallen since I brought Tess home. It’s colder than a banshee’s left nipple, and I’ve walked around the perimeter of the building at least six times. Neither the cold nor the distraction did anything to smother my growing need for her.
I shift in my seat, for all the good it does me.
Christ, I want her. Where the hell’s Lu?
“O’Brien!” Speaking of which, she pounds on the window, causing snow to fall in clumps along the glass. “You ready?”
Am I?
I flip the locks up and she slides into the passenger seat. “Hey, Lu. What’s doing?”
“About five inches of ice, snow, and asshats who can’t drive worth shit. Goddamn Floridians, shouldn’t they be down South instead of schlepping through this crap?” She takes a sip of her coffee. “How’s our girl?”
Excellent. “No issues. No tails. No concerns. She was out for part of the day, but she’s in for the night.”
She takes another gulp. “Good. Her delicate little boobies would probably snap off if she was out in this. When was your last sweep?”
They’re not that small. “Twenty minutes ago. All’s quiet as usual.”
“All right. I’ll do another sweep when you leave.”
I rub my hands. “Yeah, about that…”
She stops before she takes another sip of her coffee and narrows her eyes. I might have my cop face on, but that means nothing to Lu. I may read faces, but she teaches rookies to read them in the academy. Yeah, I don’t stand a chance against Lu’s superpowers.
“You’re not goddamn leaving, are ya, O’Brien?”
I shrug like it doesn’t mean anything. “Lu, it’s no biggie. Ever see her with anyone under seventy outside of her law classes and the DA’s office? She’s a good kid. Lonely is all. She invited me up after my shift to talk.”
“To talk?”
“That’s right.”
I’m thinking Lu’s about two seconds away from pouring coffee down my pants. “You’re already fucking her. Aren’t you, O’Brien? Jesus H. Christ. Didn’t I tell you not to fuck her?”
I meet her face, my expression hard. “I can honestly say I’m not fucking her.” Yet.
“Goddamnit, O’Brien.” She takes another gulp of coffee and says nothing more.
“You gonna rat me out?”
“If the higher-ups ask, then yeah, I’ll tell them.” She shakes her head. “Otherwise, they don’t need to know. I’ve seen the way she looks at you—hell, I’ve seen the way you look at her. Goddamn puppy-love shit makes me want to puke.”
“Then why are you pissed? She’s a nice girl.”
She squares her jaw. “That’s why I’m pissed. She’s not a whore, kid. And you’re all sorts of messed up. Do you really think she needs this shit?”
“You sayin’ I’m not good enough for her?”
; “Yup.”
“The hell I’m not!”
“Oh, yeah. How’s counseling going? Oh,” she says all dramatic-like when I don’t say anything back. “It’s not, is it? Because you ain’t going.”
“Don’t need it,” I growl.
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. It shows.”
“Lu—”
“How you sleeping, O’Brien? Resting good, getting all eight hours?” She huffs when I don’t answer. “That’s what I thought. Joey keeping you up at night? Or didn’t it bother you when he bled all over you like a gutted cow?”
“Lu, you don’t know shit.”
“Actually I do. On account of my first year on the force, I held a six-year-old in my arms, trying to tell her to stay alive while my partner cuffed her strung-out mother, who’d stabbed her. She didn’t make it. Neither did my partner two years later when her own goddamn husband took a bat to her head.” The grip to her paper cup tightens. “I responded to that one, too. Her face was so smashed up, the cops on duty needed help identifying the body.”
“Christ,” I mutter.
“My seventh year…” She waggles her finger at me. “Now, that was a doozie. Three of our veterans run over at a parade by some dad trying to steal his own kid. Ever pick up someone’s leg off the ground when it’s no longer attached? It kind of sucks, O’Brien.”
She doesn’t say much after that. She doesn’t need to. She made her point, and that was just her first seven years on the force.
We sit there in the quiet, both of us lost in the shit we’ve been handed. “Sorry, Lu.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry. Just get some help. So when you see what you’ll see, you’ll still be in good enough shape to see it. Suicide is for pussies, O’Brien.” She looks at me then. “Don’t be a pussy.”
Chapter 11
Tess
I flip through the pages of my criminal law journal as I hunker down in my comforter, trying to stay warm. As I highlight the passage at the bottom of the page, I hear the knock on the door I’ve been waiting for. I collect my notes and the journal and shove them beneath my bed, hurrying to slip out of my pajama bottoms before placing my glasses on top of the nightstand.