by T Gephart
“Ricci, you need to adjust your definition of sexy. I’d say me and speedy Pete,” he pointed to the door, “are probably in agreement that we don’t give a fuck how functional and comfortable it is, it’s going to make us hard. And yeah, I get that it isn’t its purpose and you assume that makes us pigs. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”
I shook my head, unable to suppress the laugh. He could be such a jerk, but he was so honest about it that it was kind of adorable. And yeah, I knew how it sounded, and it still didn’t change anything.
“You going to be able to eat while I’m lounging around in my workout clothes.” I lowered my voice, intentionally trying to sound sexy.
He nodded, taking the bags of food from me and pulling me closer. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll still be hard and thinking dirty thoughts, but I’m starving. So unless you’re going to let me eat you . . .” His brow rose, smirking cheekily until I shoved him roughly in the chest. “Well, then burgers it is.”
It was funny how if he’d said that to me a week or so ago, it would have totally grossed me out. The idea of him casually offering me oral sex so flippantly, not something I would have found endearing. But the more I got to know Tibbs—and it was still early days—the more I saw that was just his sense of humor. He was a little crass, and cocky, and mostly inappropriate. But he wasn’t hostile or predatory, and up until recently, never so much as breathed a word to me that would’ve been out of line.
And more than all of that, he was honest. Completely unapologetic about who he was and owned it, and that was incredibly sexy.
“Let’s go eat burgers, pervert.” I pulled him toward my kitchen table.
If it was supposed to be awkward sitting down and eating fast food with someone you’d been dry humping not even half an hour earlier, I didn’t feel it. Both of us demolishing our food while we sucked down a couple of sodas. He didn’t even make a wiseass crack about my appetite, guys usually shocked I didn’t nibble on a salad like a pet hamster.
It was only after we were done—and about a million calories consumed—that I wondered what to do next. Going back to kissing him sure sounded like a good option, but it also attracted a level of danger to it as well. I didn’t sleep with guys on first dates, even if technically I’d known Tibbs for a while. And I didn’t trust myself not to break my own rule if we went back to doing that, considering how hot it had made me the first time.
“How long have you been boxing?” Tibbs surprised me, clearing the wrappers from my table, apparently not feeling the same level of conflict I was.
Conversation.
I could work with that.
My back straightened in my chair, feeling slightly relieved I hadn’t had to make the choice. “My dad had me and Emilia in gloves before we could even walk. He was a Marine. Is a Marine,” I corrected. “You never really stop. Anyway, it was important to him that we knew how to handle ourselves. Said it taught not only strength but discipline. And since we were military brats, shit like that was just normal to us. I didn’t even know not all girls got into the ring with grown-ass men until I was maybe sixteen.”
Tibbs didn’t balk, not seeming surprised as he waved his hand for me to go on. “Dad trained religiously when he was younger and even entered some amateur bouts. But we moved around a lot so he didn’t really have the time to dedicate to the sport. Mom was Air Force so two active duty parents meant we did and went wherever the government told us to. So when he finally retired, he bought that old boxing gym in Queens and started training fighters. I think he always loved that part more, teaching someone how to properly throw a punch and take a hit. Guess that’s why he’d been so hardcore with me and Emilia, he didn’t have anyone else to impart his knowledge.” I laughed, remembering how intense his drills had been. “Emilia was let off the hook when she enlisted in the Marines. Though she said all of Dad’s training had been a godsend when she did the Crucible on Parris Island. And the academy for me was like a cakewalk.”
“I bet.” He eased back into his chair, a relaxed smile crossing his lips. “Presley and I had a more,” he paused before chuckling, “regular upbringing. Milk and brownies when we came home from school, meatloaf on Thursdays—that kind of thing.” He snapped his fingers suddenly like he’d remembered something. “There was that one time when they shipped us off to summer camp with the Israeli Secret Service. It was kinda rough, but they taught us how to kill a man with a pinkie finger, so I guess it wasn’t all bad. But I think all middle-class white kids from Long Island did that, not sure if that makes me all that special.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I laughed, my heart skipping a beat. It was both endearing and adorable, his attempt to compete with my unconventional childhood almost hysterical.
“Easy there, Ricci,” he warned, biting back his grin as he tried to look serious. “I just told you I can kill a man with this,” he wiggled his pinkie finger on his right hand,“I’d be a little more careful with those insults.”
Any concerns I had of spending time with Tibbs after that kiss were very firmly put to rest. He didn’t even try to kiss me when we moved to the couch, both of us grabbing newly chilled ice packs and reapplying as we continued to talk.
He told me all about growing up with Presley, and then how he and Leighton joined the academy and became firefighters. And I filled him in on all the places my parents had been stationed, how crazy it was to constantly be moving.
“You always wanted to be a cop?” he asked, his head rolling toward me.
I nodded, the need to serve my country something I couldn’t have escaped even if I’d tried. “I felt I could do better work here, at home. I am so proud of my parents and my sister, but there is so much that needed to be done in our own neighborhoods. And I wanted to make a difference.”
He rolled his eyes, groaning dramatically before throwing his hands up in disgust. “You had to take it there. Now how am I supposed to make fun of you being a cop when you make it sound so honorable? Jesus, Ricci. Lie. To. Me. Tell me what you really wanted to do was give assholes speeding tickets and eat donuts.”
“Oooooooooo I could totally eat a donut right now,” I moaned, closing my eyes as I seductively licked my lips.
He stood quickly, the ice pack dropping to the floor as he held out his hands. “If getting one lets me hear you make that noise one more time, then we’re leaving right now. There’s got to be a million donut shops in Brooklyn. Hell, we’ll drive back to Manhattan if we have to.”
I didn’t hesitate, letting my own ice pack drop as I linked my fingers with his and let him help me to my feet. “I know this amazing place that isn’t far. There’s a great Sushi restaurant nearby as well if you want to get dinner later.”
And before I’d even realized what I’d suggested, I’d planned to spend the rest of the day with Tibbs. I hadn’t even asked him. Not even considering that he had other things to do and maybe didn’t want to spend his whole day off hanging with me.
“Sounds good to me.” He pulled me closer, pressing my body flush against his as he dropped a single soft kiss on my lips. “But this still counts as just one date, and I want a second.”
“You sure?” I breathed against his lips, wanting more than he’d given me but knowing it would invite trouble. “You could be sick of me by the end of it.”
He shook his head, his eyes moving to my mouth like he’d had a similar thought. “Not a chance.”
Justin
IT WAS LATE when I got back to my apartment.
Eleven? Maybe even midnight? And if at some point during the day I’d glanced at a clock, I’d probably have a better idea.
But I hadn’t.
Hadn’t wanted to either, too busy to worry about unimportant shit like what position in the sky the sun was occupying.
The day had been . . . well, fucking awesome. Granted, it started a little strange, my trip to Queens not what I’d been expecting. But honestly, I’m not sure if given a choice, I’d have changed a thing.
Obviously, Ricci was hot.
I didn’t need to do three rounds in a boxing ring to work that out. Although, I will say that I had developed a very unhealthy obsession with sports bras in the last twelve hours.
Her body was amazing.
Every inch of it was conditioned and toned, and if she was the last female body I ever saw, I’d die knowing I’d seen perfection.
Well, I’d seen most of it.
And while the thought of her naked made me so hard my dick hurt, I was taking my time getting to that part. She fascinated me in a way I couldn’t quite explain, everything about her so interesting that I could spend literally hours and not get bored. Which is exactly what happened, and why I was limping into my Hell’s Kitchen apartment at some point late in the night or early in the morning.
I’d been a good boy too, keeping my mouth and hands away from her most of the time because I knew exactly what would happen if I didn’t. And once I went there—really went there—it was going to be hard to stop.
Jesus, it had almost taken an act of God to stop me when we’d been making out on her couch. Everything about her turning me on so fucking much, that if she’d touched my cock I’d have probably come in her hand. And she’d looked like she’d been considering it, her fingers dangerously close to the fly of my jeans.
There was no way I’d have been able to tell her no and try to be the guy who says we should wait. Yeah, that was a superpower I didn’t possess, along with being unable to levitate and stop bullets with my bare hands. Same skillset, and none of them in my wheelhouse.
So knowing my limitations, I figured I’d just do my best to avoid it. And not because I didn’t want to sleep with her. Ha, because, yeah that guy existed. No, I was torturing myself because I didn’t want her to think sex was the only thing I wanted. And for a guy who usually only wants sex, I was just as surprised as anyone else to come to that realization.
“Fuck,” I groaned, my body tight as I collapsed onto my mattress. I was going to need more Motrin—possibly a priest—and when I eventually got out of bed, I was definitely going to hurt.
But it was totally worth it.
As was the entire day I’d spent with her.
We’d spent hours in her apartment, talking about everything from our families to arguing about which New York slice was the best. She was delusional, because there was no way Juliana’s in Brooklyn was better than Joe’s in Greenwich. And when we weren’t in her apartment—talking and trying to avoid putting parts of my body on hers—we were wandering around her neighborhood, eating donuts and ordering sushi.
And if I believed there was a chance I could spend the night and not touch her, I’d have offered to crash on her couch just so we got more time. But I’d reached my limit of being good and fatigue didn’t do wonders for my willpower.
Which gave me two choices.
Either toss myself out—because she hadn’t done it yet—and head back into the city. Or ask her to handcuff me to her coffee table and roll the dice the wood was strong enough to hold. It looked like a cheap import; I didn’t like my odds.
“Ricci,” I murmured, rolling onto my side as I closed my eyes and flicked through memories of the day like it was a movie. “You’re going to be trouble.”
It was just after ten a.m. when I found myself in my car, heading back over the bridge to Brooklyn.
No, not to Tessa’s apartment because that would make me a stalker.
To Quinn and North’s.
Sure, I possibly liked the idea that I was sorta in the general area and could potentially stop by since I was in the neighborhood. But I also needed someone to talk to and I didn’t have the stomach to head to Presley and Leighton’s and see my sister with messed-up sex hair. Those two had been fucking like fiends, positive they were going for some kind of record. And while I accepted they were adults and it was none of my business, I was already suffering a severe case of PTSD from hitting Ricci, I didn’t want to add to my therapy bill.
“Tibbs, to what do we owe this pleasure?” North opened the door, his cute little daughter hanging off his arm. Ava was almost one and kept the big guy on his toes, but seeing him married with a kid still shocked the shit out of me.
“I have a question.” I smiled at Ava who grinned and then waved. “How soon after you met Quinn before you slept with her?”
“Umm, hello to you too, Tibbs,” North’s hot wife and the woman in question appeared from the kitchen looking confused.
“Oh, hey, Quinn,” I coughed out, thinking I should’ve probably asked if North was alone before launching into my investigation. “This is purely for scientific purposes, not because I get off on knowing when you did it.”
North handed Ava over to Quinn, the two of them sharing a look I wasn’t sure was a good thing. “Can you give me a minute alone with Tibbs, beautiful. If you don’t see me kill him, you still have plausible deniability.”
Quinn chuckled, giving him a quick kiss before whispering, “You better tell me everything after he leaves.”
“Always.” North put his palm to his heart, watching as his two ladies walked out of the room. “Any last words, Tibbs?” He tipped his head to the side, sinking his hands into his pockets.
“I told you, dude. It’s not like that.” I tried to reassure him, wondering why he would assume the worst. “I just know that before Quinn you could have any woman you wanted, whenever you wanted, and then you were just with her.”
He pointed to the couch, gesturing for me to take a seat before shaking his head. “Well, yeah, that’s what happens when you are in a relationship. You don’t fuck anyone else.”
“But did that happen right away? The relationship? Or did the fucking come first? Or was there no fucking so that’s how you knew you were in a relationship?” My butt sunk into the cushions, watching his eyebrows shoot up at my question.
“You’ve had girlfriends before, Tibbs. You really need me to explain how this works?” North laughed, scrubbing his face with his hand.
“I know I’ve had girlfriends, North. But I was never really invested. And honestly, I wasn’t really sad when it ended.” I swear, I thought he was smarter than that. “Let’s just say—hypothetically—that you met someone that wasn’t like any woman you’d ever met.” I waved my hand, building a picture. “And she’s hot. Ridiculously hot, but more than that, she’s great. Really great. And like the biggest smart ass, but you really like that too. And slightly crazy but you—”
“Jesus, Tibbs,” North cut me off. “Did you find this girl on Craig’s List? Because the way you’re talking, I’m pretty sure you’re going to end up with a toe tag.”
I laughed, because dying at the hands of Ricci probably wouldn’t be a bad way to go. “Relax asshole, I didn’t find her on Craig’s List. And she’s a cop, if she was going to kill me, she’d know better than to leave the body.”
His eyes got wide, sucking in a breath. “Holy shit, Tessa Ricci?”
How the fuck did he guess?
As far as I knew the only two people who had that kind of intel were Leighton and Miller, and neither of those guys would have told North.
“What?” I coughed out, wondering if maybe I’d accidentally said something myself. “We’re talking hypothetically. That means that the situation probably doesn’t even exist.”
“Thanks for the English lesson, dumbass, I know what the word means. And I also know that two uniforms came in earlier in the week because apparently there were ‘concerns’,” his fingers made little air quotes, “about your mental wellbeing at her request. Then I hear that it was just some stupid prank between the two of you. But last time I checked, you and Tessa Ricci weren’t exactly besties.”
Okay, so maybe he was smart.
“So hypothetically—”
“Really?” he chuckled. “You want to keep pretending we are not talking about Ricci? Should I call her and ask her what she thinks? Or you just going to admit that you’re into her and you don’t want to screw it up?” He eyed me h
ard, folding his arms across his chest as he waited for me to answer.
“It’s Ricci,” I admitted, thinking if I was going to go to the trouble of seeing North and asking his advice, I might as well tell him all of it. “But what we talk about stays between you and me.”
He nodded, agreeing. And if there was one other person I trusted other than Leighton, it was North. “Tibbs, I’m not going to say anything to anyone. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”
I scrubbed my face with my hands, blowing out a breath. “It’s more than just attraction, North. And I don’t want to screw it up.”
It was the first time I’d admitted it out loud and accepted that there was a possibility that I liked this woman more than just a little bit. And I’d totally understand if North laughed, because honestly, the idea of me wanting more than just sex wasn’t something I was expecting. Hell, two weeks ago, if he or anyone else suggested it, I’d have told them they were crazy. I’m fairly sure that was exactly what I’d said when Leighton made some joke about it the very night I’d noticed Ricci at the bar. But I guess the universe was funny like that, and whether I’d planned it or not, things were happening.
“Have you talked to her?” he asked, surprisingly serious and without cracking jokes. “Told her how you feel?”
Ha!
Did I talk to her?
Well wasn’t that a fucking prickly question.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, wondering if anyone else got themselves into the kind of dilemmas I did. “See, that’s just it. We spent the whole goddamn day talking. Talked about everything. Her family, mine. Work. And pretty much everything else except religion and politics. But as far as the stuff you’re talking about, nope.”
“Well,” he shrugged, “Do you think she feels the same way? I mean, we all know Ricci, and have hung out with her. So is this more just hanging out?”
I got why he might have thought that, because we had “hung out” before. But that kiss on her couch, yeah, not even close to what we’d done before. “We kissed, North. And not like how you’d kiss your grandma. So as far as whether she’s feeling the same way I am or not, I don’t know, but it’s not like before.”