Whoa, was he taking off his pants? Her empty stomach lurched from the beer. Then she heard that telltale metal sound. In a flash her hands were handcuffed behind her back.
“Hey Adams! What are you . . . ?”
“You want to act like a child. Fine!” he said sitting down on the chair and pulling her over his knee. His large hand crashed against her flesh through her jeans. This is not happening. I’m dreaming, she thought as she basked in every blow. He hit hard and fast and it was beginning to sting.
“Owwww, that hurts, you jerk!” she faked, not wanting him to think she was a freak. He let go with one final blow and she screamed. Damn. That one did hurt and she felt it deep inside her.
He was standing on the threshold—he had his hand on the door knob, all he had to do was turn it and she was his. Instead, he yanked her off his lap and pushed her back, so she was kneeling on the floor at his feet while he glared down at her. He seemed to lose focus for a moment and then shook his head, regaining his cold stare. She gazed at him breathless, helpless and completely turned on, her brown eyes turning to gold from adrenaline. He reached around her and brought her upright on her knees and effortlessly unlocked the cuffs without looking while saying, “Have I made myself clear?”
Charlie nodded, unable to speak, still trying to catch her breath as she reached up to kiss him, but he used her hands to simultaneously stand her up and push her away. “You need to eat,” he said and he walked to the kitchen. She followed and sat down on one of the stools watching him in wonder and lust, her eyes dancing. In the harsh light of the kitchen he looked older, more worn. His face was still slightly red and the lines that were etched around his eyes were more noticeable. His lips were trembling as he prepared her plate, opened a bottled water, and set it down in front of her.
“Eat,” he ordered. They ate in silence staring at each other. Him, dazed and aroused; her, just aroused.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a whisper. “I thought you were blowing me off and I . . .”
“And what?” he snapped.
She swallowed hard. “I’m not good with men, Jake. My feelings get hurt so easily. It’s like I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I thought you were unaffected by that kiss and it made me . . .”
“Unaffected?” he broke in. “Do I look unaffected to you? Damn it, Charlie!” He closed the distance between them again.
“I wish the hell I was unaffected by you. The timing is all wrong here. The circumstances are wrong. Everything is wrong!” He slammed his open hand on the marble kitchen island and she jumped in her seat and started to tear up. He closed his eyes and brought her head to his chest. “Baby don’t,” he said, his eyes softening as he caressed her face.
Baby.
And the tears came. Tears that had been building for a very, very long time and she made no effort to hold them back. Jake gathered her in his arms and carried her to the couch and nestled her in his arms. “I’m so sorry baby,” he said, apologizing for losing his temper as she continued to cry softly in his arms.
Jake had no idea. He had no idea that her tears were tears of relief, of a journey’s end, of a faith found. He had no idea.
“You don’t need this right now,” he said. “I am the last thing you need.”
She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes and spoke with absolute conviction, “I have been waiting for you forever. I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly,” he smiled at the Meg Ryan line and hugged her tighter and stared up at the ceiling while Charlie nuzzled into his chest.
He closed his eyes as he held her, and he remembered his dream. Her hair was longer, lighter and she was younger but it was her. Jake didn’t know if it was deja vu or outright madness, but the memory and their connection were undeniable. He had done some research on cellular memory in his own journey with recovery, but this was the first time he ever really believed it. The memory was real. Unexplainable, but real. He knew he had to acknowledge that in his own heart, even if he never said it to her. He knew it from the first day he walked into her office, probably earlier than that if he was being honest, but he chose not to be. He needed her as much as she needed him, but how were they going to manage?
If they were to be discovered, he could be pulled from the case. She could be pulled from the case or even disciplined. Disciplined for what, he wasn’t sure; they were two single consenting adults but agencies do not take well to these professionally incestuous relationships, particularly when a supervisor is involved. It muddies the waters. It muddies the command structure. It compromises the decision-making and it hinders the work. Charlie seemed well thought of and respected, and the idea that his involvement with her could taint her reputation or her future made his chest hurt. Jake had no idea what was happening to him. Since when did he give a shit about how anyone else was affected? Especially a woman?
He had long since given up caring about anyone but himself. He spent five years fighting for every scrap of dignity and sanity he could maintain, all his life really, and had lost by many accounts, but he fought back and in doing so made himself first and foremost his own champion. How had this girl he held in his arms knocked him off his post with one punch and what was he willing to do to stop it? That’s when he made a decision. He would not sleep with her—and he would not hurt her—that was final, he hoped. There was no way he could predict what would happen if he went to the next level with her, so he would make sure it didn’t happen at all.
She woke up in his arms at around ten, surprised that he was still holding her. “Come on,” he said. “Time for bed. Let’s get your clock right.” The anticipation of this moment had been building in her since their first stakeout. She couldn’t believe it was finally happening. He walked her into the bedroom by her shoulders and she started to peel off her clothes.
“What are you doing?” he asked, alarmed.
“Well I’m not going to sleep in my clothes, Jake,” Charlie said indignantly. Jesus after the day they had, why was he picking at her?
“I’ll step out,” he said paternally.
“Don’t be silly,” she scoffed until she saw his eyes darken. “I . . . I have a camisole on underneath my sweater. I was just going to sleep in that. Is that okay?” she asked, though she had no idea why she was asking his permission in her own bedroom.
He stared at her, his eyes dark, but said nothing. Suddenly she became very self-conscious. She assumed he meant they were going to bed together, but it was clear now that he didn’t mean that at all. She was frustrated by her confusion but still too buzzed from the three PBRs and the spanking to mount a fight. She continued to undress but didn’t look at him, as if he somehow couldn’t see her if she weren’t making eye contact. She couldn’t read him at all. She was very aware that she was visibly trembling, and it seemed to be having no impact on him.
Was he angry with her for being so familiar? Turned on? Repulsed? Jesus, she never had as much trouble reading a man as she did this man. Was it her or was it him?
She quickly slid under the covers and finally turned to face him. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?” she said quietly, looking so small. “Please?” Jake was standing over her, not quite glaring anymore but clearly not happy with her. Still, he said nothing as he sat down in the chair beside her bed, his eyes locked on hers. Charlie tried to look relaxed but she was crawling out of her skin. Her body ached for him, her mouth was wet with the promise of his kiss, but he made no move toward her. She decided to roll over, close her eyes and try to control her breathing. The silence was deafening. She wanted to ask him to lay down with her, but she knew from her limited experience with him that taking the lead would provoke rather than arouse him, so she remained quiet and decided to try something else.
Lay down with me Jake, she thought quietly in her head . . . Please, Jake, hold me. I need you to hold me. I need your arms around me Jake.
After her
fifth incantation she heard him get up from the chair and unfasten his belt. Her eyes widened and she was thankful she was turned away from him as she held her breath. She tried to remain calm as he pulled the covers back and she felt him crawl into the bed behind her and wrap his long muscular arms around her. She disappeared into the safety of his steel clutch and sighed involuntarily.
“Is this what you wanted?” he whispered in her ear. She nodded, suppressing the urge to cry in relief. “Go to sleep Charlie.”
Was he kidding?
As she lay on her side, her back to his front, she snuggled against him, grateful to be in his arms, but disappointed that she was not having the effect on him she had hoped. Jake controlled himself as long as he could. It didn’t take long before his body betrayed him and he found himself rock hard against her as she snuggled in. She drew a quick breath. Jake remained silent and still.
“Jake,” she said her voice trembling.
“Go to sleep, Charlie,” he repeated. Charlie let out a loud sigh of frustration and desire and his arms tightened around her. She didn’t need to see his eyes to know they were dark.
“I . . . I’m not sure I can.” she whispered. “I need . . .” she started but her request was silenced when from behind he placed a giant hand gently over her mouth and again whispered in her ear leaving her breathless.
“I am going to help you relax so you can sleep but you must do exactly as I say. Agreed?” She nodded and he loosened his hand from her mouth but did not remove it.
“Put your arms out in front of you,” he instructed, and she complied. She looked as though she were lying on her side praying . . . she was. Praying he would have mercy and unleash the heat that had been building in her since the moment she first laid eyes on him, praying for release before she ran mad, praying most of all that he wanted her. With one hand still gently over her mouth, he used his other hand to roughly massage the back of her neck. She groaned and bent her head forward, causing his loose hand to slide from her mouth to her throat where he cradled her neck and head.
“Shhh,” he whispered and her stomach tightened. He moved his hand from the back of her neck and slid it across her shoulder and down along the curve of her waist to her hips, sliding the camisole up so he could make direct contact with her skin, sending a shockwave through both of them.
“Easy,” he said in a low growl when her body jerked in response to his touch. His voice was driving her crazy and she started to grind her hips against him.
“Stop,” he ordered, halting the movement of his hand and resting it on her hip. “Be a good girl and lay still,” he whispered into her ear, as goosebumps covered every surface of her body.
He smiled behind her. Pleased with her reaction and convinced he could bring her to her climax, he took even more control from her by remaining completely still until she complied. Charlie took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and forced herself to stop grinding her hips against his hardness, as Jake stroked her throat and jaw with his thumb and fingers.
“That’s it, Baby. Good girl.”
With those words she felt it starting to build inside her, building from a place she hadn’t felt since she was fifteen years old. He slid his hand to her abdomen. Half of his large warm hand covered her pelvis, the other half, her stomach. He gently pressed down while gently tipping her head back against him. She felt her muscles tighten and her juices flowing.
Her body ached for his touch where she needed it most. She was unaware that further invasion was neither forthcoming nor necessary. She was hurtling like a freight train, closer and closer to the edge, barely moving, panting uncontrollably.
“That’s it,” he whispered with more excitement in his voice. He applied more pressure with both hands—pulling her head back and pushing her pelvis down and grinding his hardness against her back. She started to whimper. He knew she was fighting it, but he also knew how to get her there and he would . . . when he was damn good and ready.
“Let it go Charlie,” he finally said. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, Baby,” he said breathless as he twisted her neck so he could devour her ear with his mouth as the final assault.
“Now Charlie. Come now,” he ordered.
His mouth, his voice, his breath, and his complete control over her body pushed her over the edge. “Jake!” she screamed, her vision invaded by exploding light. He covered her mouth and locked his grip down on her body.
“That’s it. Let it go,” he breathed and locked his body to hers while she convulsed over and over and over. He wrapped both arms around her as she shuddered and finally went limp. She wanted to speak but she couldn’t. Her mind moved in and out of consciousness as she felt him completely envelope her.
“Sleep, Baby,” was the last thing she heard.
Chapter 23
Cellular Memory
Jake slept.
His dreams took him again back to a place and time he didn’t know. The walls were gray, wet, and made of some kind of stone, as was the floor. There was a musty smell that enveloped the room. The smell was rank. Not rank like a dead body, more like rank of old, like a grandmother’s basement. It smelled of mold, stagnant water and burnt torches and spilled wine and urine—hopefully not in the same chalice. The room was vast with a high ceiling, and the torches that burned barely succeeded in their effort to illuminate the expansive room. Every sound echoed; footsteps, giggles, slurps, and voices. The room was filled with all of these.
It took a minute for Jake’s eyes to adjust to the darkness and at first he wasn’t sure if it was really her. She was younger but yes, it was definitely her. She was wearing a long dress of bone white and gold silk and her ample bosom was displayed by a bustier that presented her voluptuous breasts like a gift. Her hair was loose in the back and braided across the top and along the sides. A tiara of wildflowers encircled her head. She looked like a princess.
She caught him staring at her and cast a shy smile at him before looking away. Her eyes were bright and round and filled with the most beautiful shades of gold, green, and brown. He had seen these colors in her eyes before. She was standing with four other women who were chatting and giggling and flirting with the other men in the room, all soldiers. The women may have been beautiful, maybe even as beautiful as she, maybe more, but there would be no way for him to know, not with her in the room. With her in the room, no other woman existed, as it should be for any woman who is truly loved.
If a man had any idea of the adoration and respect that would befall him for this single act of chivalry he would never again notice another woman when in the company of his love for the rest of his days. Was it the character of the man or the beauty of the woman he was with that made this true? Jake believed it was the depth of the man’s love and his awareness that this love was his to protect and cherish. Only then would a man truly know what it was like to be adored, revered and loved. It was the likes of a depth he had never known. Until her.
Jake was pretty sure he was dreaming but not positive. It felt very real. He could sense the weight of the reality even as he questioned it.
Very little intimidated Jake Adams, but he found these soldiers intimidating. Which was strange considering the soldiers were wearing skirts; green and black checkered with white lines and a hint of gold thread among the green. Men in skirts should have been funny, but Jake wasn’t moved to laugh. These were serious men, dangerous men; soldiers who long ago had lost their sense of humor. Jake knew this instinctively and felt threatened, for himself and for her.
The soldiers wore freshly polished chest plates, still bearing the scars of battle. Their helmets were polished as well, with gold trim along the high ridges and along the edges. A few of the soldiers had red and black feather plumes sprouting from the tops of the helmets. The scabbards hanging from their thick belts held long deadly swords that hung below their skirts and banged against their massive bare legs. Looking closely, he could discer
n a hint of stain on the hilts of the swords. The stain was very faint on the high side of the scabbard, while wide, dark and pronounced on the lower side. On their feet, they wore sandals with wide straps, made of thick leather, crisscrossing fore and back and clasped with a buckle just below the knee. A few of the soldiers had animal hide strapped to their calves.
It was a bizarre outfit for battle and Jake was completely lost in the scene that lay before him. Like a stripper at a convent, he couldn’t have felt more conspicuous or out of place and yet . . . no one was eyeballing him. Somehow, he belonged here. Except for the stolen shy glances from her he wouldn’t have believed he could even be seen. Everyone was keeping a wide berth. Jake grew more uncomfortable, confused, and alarmed with each passing minute. A massive-chested soldier began to cross the room with a stony gaze. His target was clearly Jake. Oh yea, Jake could be seen alright. This was it. Confrontation. He could see the question in the soldier’s eyes. Who the hell are you and what is your business here?
Jake Adams and I have no fucking idea.
The soldier had one hand on the handle of his sheathed sword as he took long deliberate strides across the crowded room. A panic rose up and caught in Jake’s throat but he allowed his face to reveal nothing as he locked eyes with the approaching soldier and raised his chin in challenge. Years of training would not fail him.
She watched, her eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. “Legatus,” the soldier said, formally addressing Jake.
Suddenly he felt her move in his arms, startling him. Jake reached for his hip trying to find his gun, instead finding a sword as he vacillated between worlds. The sword banged against his leg as he was ripped from his dream. “Don’t go!” she screamed and ran toward him. “Please!” she pleaded through tear filled eyes.
The Hooker, the Handyman and What the Parrot Saw Page 15