Street Safe

by W. Lynn Chantale

She stumbled forward, her feet tangling in the blanket. He caught her around the waist and hauled her close.

  “Never apologize for fighting for your life.”

  The low authoritative note in his voice vibrated through her body igniting desire she’d thought she’d banked.

  “But I hurt you.”

  “And if I’d been the bad guy and you hesitated, you’d probably be dead.”

  She flinched. Nothing in his manner was meant to soothe. Even the hands gripping her arms were a bit rough. She didn’t need him to remind of her what she’d just lived through.

  “Did I do something wrong?” She curled her fingers in the front of his shirt.

  He plucked her hands from his clothes and set them to her side. She followed his gaze as it swept her from head to toe. The desire simmering in his amber depths flared and then disappeared from view.

  “Where the hell are your clothes?”

  “In the wash. They were covered in, uh, blood.” Her voice caught on the last word. She tugged at the hem of her T-shirt. “I didn’t think you would mind if I borrowed something from you.”

  Silence.

  She rested a hand on his forearm, the muscle bunched beneath her palm. “He was my friend, too.”

  “What was he doing there? He was supposed to be out of town or something.”

  She stumbled away, taken aback by the accusation in his voice. “You think it’s my fault he’s dead?” Tears stung her eyes. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  She spun on her heel. He grabbed her hand and dragged her against the hard wall of his chest. This was the second time she was helpless in his arms.

  “Let me go!”

  His eyes glittered. “You make me crazy.”

  “And that gives you the right to blame me?” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I can understand your outburst about the baby, but blaming me for Auggie’s death is just cruel.” Too much. She’d expended too much emotion and she just wanted—her gaze snapped to his—him.

  “No, but realizing you were there...” He gripped her shoulders. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

  “It died after I called 911.” She dragged a stuttered breath into her lungs. “I know you don’t want me here. As soon as my clothes are dry I’ll leave.”

  His hands moved from her shoulders to tangle in her hair. He dislodged the rubber band, allowing her damp curls to spill about her shoulders.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” He tilted her head back and leaned close. “Not until you’re safe.” His lips touched hers, a cool caress of skin on skin and just what she needed. The heat of his mouth infused her, coaxed her into surrender and left her clinging to his bulging biceps. If not for the hands in her hair, she’d have slid to his feet in a boneless pool of ecstasy.

  So much happened tonight and his kiss was just the balm she needed. She locked her hands behind his neck. One hand left her hair to skim her spine, then cup the swell of her buttocks, pressing her closer. The rigid length of him grazed the inside of her thigh. Liquid desire moistened her lips and tightened her nipples further. She made a small noise in the back of her throat and he deepened the kiss. The moment his tongue swept inside her mouth she forgot to breathe. She had to touch him, feel his skin next to hers.

  It was that first night all over again. How she missed this man. She slid her hands beneath his shirt, her fingertips exploring chiseled abs before sliding over firm rounded pecs. He moaned into her mouth, strumming a chord deep inside, where desire resonated and pulsed. She never wanted him to stop kissing her.

  He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her shorts and slid them over her hips. She tugged at his shirt and he grabbed her hands.

  “Impatient,” he said with a chuckle.

  She stared into his eyes. “I am.”

  He crushed her to him, devouring her mouth as he plunged two fingers inside her heat. She could’ve wept with need as waves of ecstasy rippled through her body, then centered again on his fingers slowly moving inside her. Back and forth, scraping over sensitive flesh.

  “You’re so wet.”

  “Yes.”

  She could only cling to him, but she needed more. He still wore his clothes, the denim of his jeans cool and smooth against the heat of her inner thighs. She stroked him, relearning the shape of him and longed to feel him buried deep, butted against her cervix, sending her into oblivion and back again.

  He added a third finger and flicked his thumb against the small bundle of nerves. She whimpered, at the mercy of his hand, his mouth and oh god how she wanted to feel his cock throbbing inside her.

  “That’s it sweetheart, come for me.”

  And she was so close, too. Everything she was centered on his hand. One more flick and she was quickly sliding down the rabbit hole, his name a strangled sob as she tossed abandon to the wind.

  “Hold on to me, baby.”

  She didn’t know if she had the strength, but if it kept her close to him, she’d cling away. He fumbled at his waist, his knuckles brushing against her hip bones as he worked his jeans over his hips.

  She nibbled on his mouth, drawing the spicy taste of him, learning the shape and texture of his mouth. Why didn’t he understand how much she needed him? Tears pricked her lids.

  He stepped backward and she moved with him, afraid this was all some erotic fantasy and she was still huddled in her black hiding space.

  “Look at me, sweetheart.”

  Her eyes snapped open and she stared into simmering chocolate. The passion she read in his velvety depths assured her she was very much in the present, as did the hard cock teasing her swollen folds.

  She glanced around and realized he’d maneuvered them to one of the chairs in front of the fire. Heat beckoned at her back while Street warmed her front.

  He guided her down. She thought his fingers had stretched her, but this was different. His cock was hard, unyielding and thick. He filled her and she marveled at the way her body accommodated his length.

  A moan eased over her lips as her thighs rested on his and he pulsed within her. She rocked back and forth, enjoying the tiny fissures of lightening quickening through her veins.

  She’d waited so long for this and she wanted to savor him, take her time. A slow roll of her hips had him biting back a curse. She chuckled and did it again. His fingers dug into the softness of her flesh, but she kept her languid pace, timing her thrusts to the muffled Keith Sweat song drifting through the floorboards.

  If she could only have this one moment with him, then she wanted him to remember her, to never forget what they were sharing. And she needed an extraordinary memory to eclipse the hell she’d been through tonight.

  His hands splayed across her back, he worked her shirt up and over her head. He dipped his head and captured one bobbing nipple into the hot recesses of his mouth. She arched against him and he sucked, his tongue fluttering over the peak, before allowing the bud to slip from his mouth. He teased the other. Giving it the same patient consideration as the first. Each draw sent her hot cream trickling over him and aided her thrusts.

  He gripped her buttocks, parting her cheeks so he could tease her anus. Sparks danced and zigzagged through her body, her womb clenching as he circled the tight ring. He lifted his head, a devilish grin on his kissable mouth.

  “You got super wet. Do you like that?”

  She whimpered, pushing against the hand caressing her buttock while his finger teased her.

  “Say the words,” he whispered against her ear.

  “Yes. Yes I like that.”

  He rewarded her with a slow penetration of his finger.

  She stilled, her body processing the new sensation, savoring the slight burn as he stroked deep, getting her used to his invasion. She was so turned on her juices dampened her thighs.

  Tangling his fingers in her hair, he dragged her down for a kiss. His tongue mimicked the motions of her hips and his finger fucked her ass. He added a second finger, stretching her, and she shat
tered. Her vaginal muscles spasmed around him and he thrust upward, hard and fast, urging her into another and another until he paused and his pelvis brushed hers, his arms tight around her as one final stroke sent her catapulting into a climax she never thought possible.

  She collapsed over him, her forehead resting in the hollow of his shoulder. His ragged breath feathered the hair near her ear as he held her within his embrace. Wrapping her arms around him, she squeezed. She didn’t want him to let her go. Where turmoil had once raged, peace stole through her.

  “Shh, you’re safe,” he murmured against her ear, stroking her hair.

  It wasn’t until he spoke that she realized she was crying. Mortified, she tried to pull away only he held her fast.

  “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I’m not usually like this.”

  His throaty chuckled warmed her insides. “Neither am I.”

  He smoothed her hair from her face, before clearing her tears with his thumbs. “You’ve been through a lot today. You’re entitled to a few tears.”

  She shook her head. “I should probably leave or something.”

  “Now why would you do that?”

  She searched his face. Despite the calmness of the question his eyes were bright with an emotion she couldn’t define.

  “I said I’d keep you safe and I will.”

  Shoving at his shoulders, she pushed off his lap. “Is that all?” She shook her head. “We can’t keep doing this.” She searched his face. This constant changing kept her unsure of where she stood in his life and with a baby on the way she needed some type of stability. “Every time we’re around each other we end up having the most amazing sex and then it all goes wrong. I don’t want to be some obligation you feel you need to protect, because someone told you to.”

  A veil fell over his face. He looked away, but not before a shadow of guilt flickered in his light brown eyes. At least she thought it was guilt.

  She held her breath and glanced away. Maybe her sister was right about Rue after all. Walking away the first time had been easy, a little bitter to swallow, but it had been a lot easier when her heart wasn’t so fully open to him. When he didn’t answer, she sucked in a breath.

  “Fine.”

  He opened his mouth and closed it as a knock reverberated on the door. With a huff, she snatched up her discarded clothing and stalked from the room.

  ****

  Street ran a hand over his scalp, the raised scar, grazing the heel of his hand, and watched the ripe swell of her ass as she sashayed away. A pang of remorse whispered through his heart. Telling her how he felt at this point wasn’t an option. He didn’t care if he pissed her off, he would keep her safe.

  “Open the door Callan!”

  He shook his head a faint smile tipping his lips. Miles. Impatient as always. Street searched the room for his pants. With his leg protesting he pushed out the chair and retrieved his clothing.

  “Hold your horses!”

  Struggling into his jeans, he kicked his underwear beneath the small loveseat. He’d retrieve them later. Damp sex and burning wood clung to the air. There was nothing he could do about that now. He limped to the door, unlocked it and jerked it open.

  “About damn time.” Miles groused and pushed past him. “Where’s Na’arah?”

  Street listened a moment, the slight creak of the faucet permeated the apartment. “Bathroom.”

  “Has she said anything else about what happened?”

  He shrugged and let the door close. Favoring his right leg he crossed to where he’d set the food, washed his hands and removed the white to go containers. A pang of guilt stabbed at him. He should’ve made sure she ate before he ravished her, but he’d been so damn jealous.

  “Nope, and I didn’t ask.” He dumped rice onto a plate, then spooned curry over the waiting rice. Thick chunks of chicken, mingled with tidbits of coconut and tomatoes, wafted their warm and fragrant scent to his nostrils while the spices reminded him he hadn’t eaten in a while either. He popped the plate in the microwave.

  “I sent someone by her place.”

  An inquisitive note hung in his voice.

  Street glanced up, then back on his task. “Let me guess, someone broke in.”

  Miles smiled, went to steal a piece of naan bread and Street smacked his hand. “Ow!”

  “For Na’arah.”

  He chuckled. “Fine, but I need to see her.”

  Every cell in his body went on point. Street didn’t need to look up to know she’d entered the room.

  “She’s right behind you, but don’t upset her. She’s been through a lot.”

  “Hi Miles.”

  The microwave dinged and Street retrieved the plate. Na’arah slid onto a stool just as he set the steaming plate of food in front of her. A folded piece of naan bread sat to one side.

  “Hi Arah.” Miles set a crumpled paper bag next to her elbow.

  Street gritted his teeth at the familiar use of Na’arah’s name. He swept his gaze over her. She’d left her hair loose, the silky ebony tresses curled around her shoulders. She dressed in another of his shirts, this one black, but was she still wearing his shorts? His groin tightened at the thought. He didn’t need to be thinking about the satiny slide of her skin against his when Miles was in the room. Instead he focused on the bag.

  “What’s that?”

  “I found Arah’s purse beneath the counter.”

  “Thank you. Everything I own is in my bag.”

  Miles patted her shoulder and Street straightened. Na’arah’s head snapped up and regarded him with wary eyes. He glanced at Miles in time to see him stifle a grin. It was then he realized he growled.

  “I’ll let you finish your meal, I need to talk to Street here.”

  ****

  Na’arah watched the two men walk away. She focused on Street’s uneven gait. The limp only added to his confident swagger. God, the man had a great butt. Once they disappeared into the hall she studied the brown paper bag and some of her earlier apprehension returned.

  Setting her fork aside, she opened the bag and removed her purse. The long, narrow strap was stained with blood and her stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch, but she forced herself to look through the contents. She needed to know everything was intact. Removing her wallet she thumbed through the cards, heaving a sigh when her ID and credit card were still there.

  She was at the sink washing her hands when they returned.

  Miles stood, glanced at Street then back at her. She wasn’t sure what was just conveyed, but she knew it had something to do with her. “I hope you don’t mind staying with Callan here until we get these men in custody. As quiet as it’s kept, Street is one of our volunteer deputies. We’re a small town and it won’t be long before whoever is looking for you knows your name or even where you’re staying.”

  She pressed her hands to her face as the bottom seemed to drop from her world a second time. “But what about my apartment? I can’t just leave it.”

  “Yeah, about that. Your place isn’t safe either. I know you need essentials, but don’t go there by yourself. Take Callan with you.”

  “I can see that she gets what she needs.”

  Miles ducked his head, but not before she saw his smirk. “I figured as much.” He pulled a small clear evidence bag from his pocket. “Did you lose a button?”

  She shook her head and studied the brass object. The intricate nautical design on the face.

  “You recognize it?”

  “Yeah, but I can’t remember from where.” She looked at Miles. “Somewhere recently. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

  He smiled and dropped the bag back in his pocket. “You’ve been a big help. More than you think.” Miles touched his hat as he opened the door. “Don’t annoy her too much, Callan. She’s had a rough day.” Then he was gone.

  Muffled laughter seeped into the silence. Everybody had their own lives to attend and no one knew her world was spinning out of control.

  “You’re sa
fe with me, Na’arah.”

  She snapped her attention to his face. “I know you don’t want me here and you’re only doing it because Miles made you. I can stay with my sister.”

  He flinched. “I volunteered to bring you here. Besides, Auggie wouldn’t want me to abandon you.”

  Somehow she’d hoped she was more than just an obligation. How could he burn hot one minute and treat her so coldly the next? Tears blurred her vision and she stared into the fire. Exhaustion sagged her shoulders and a tension headache pulsed behind her eyes.

  “Do you mind if I lay down for a bit?” Anything to put more distance between them.

  “There’s another bedroom. You can sleep there.”

  He brushed past her, the brief contact enough to send desire scurrying through her limbs and she wrapped her arms around her waist. He turned right and opened a door she hadn’t noticed earlier. “It even has its own bathroom.”

  She moved in front of him, careful not to touch him. The queen bed faced the door, a chest of drawers sat to her right and she could make out an open door just beyond that. Just a basic room. She faced him. Maybe staying with him wasn’t the best idea after all.

  “I could stay with Zee. She won’t mind coming to get me.”

  A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Why drag her into this and put her in potential danger?”

  Na’arah twisted the hem of her shirt. She hadn’t thought of that.

  Street ran a hand over his head. “You’re not leaving here until we find who’s responsible for Auggie’s death. Miles and the rest of his crew hangs out here. And with the festivities this weekend, it would be better if you just stayed here.”

  She studied him a moment. “Fine, but I need to go to my place.”

  “In the morning.” He turned away. “Holler if you need anything.”

  Her jaw dropped. After everything and all he could say was holler if you need anything. Unbelievable! She wasn’t staying here, not with her body still tingling from their earlier encounter and him being so distant. No, she’d take her chances with her sister.

  She pushed past him and headed for the phone.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll stay with my sister.”