Date with the FBI (Phoenix Police Book 1)

by Liv Brooks

  Her cheeks turn scarlet and she very deliberately stares at her book again. I move towards where my suitcase is and stop, watching her out of the corner of my eyes. She’s sneaking peeks at me every few seconds, the look in her eyes making my heart ache. It’s like she doesn’t think I’m real, that if she looks away I’ll vanish.

  She catches me looking at her and closes her book with a snap. “I’m going to go take a shower,” she says quickly, turning her head away from me. I stand there, dressed in a towel, and watch as she grabs everything she needs and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

  I’m not an insecure guy. I don’t second-guess myself. But the last thing I want to do is mess up a chance with my dream girl.

  I have a new objective for the weekend—get Michelle to realize how perfect we are for each other.

  Michelle

  We’re sitting at the rehearsal lunch, Damien by my side. I had to spend an extra twenty minutes on makeup this morning to hide the bags under my eyes. I didn’t sleep a wink, not with Damien laying next to me. I move in my sleep and the last thing I wanted was to roll over on top of him or something.

  Oh god. What if I grope him in my sleep? I’m not sure if I can make it through the weekend without sleep. Maybe I’ll take him up on his offer and make him sleep on the floor. His entire body is temptation, and I’m not sure how much longer I can resist him.

  “You okay?” Damien’s voice catches me off guard.

  I jerk, my eyes snapping to his. “I’m fine,” I say with a certainty I don’t feel.

  The eyebrow he arches tells me he doesn’t believe me at all. He reaches over under the table and gently squeezes my knee. “If you’re not feeling well, we can leave. I’m sure your sister would forgive you.”

  I turn to look at my sister and glare at her. She’s the reason I’m in this predicament, but no, she’s busy smiling at her husband-to-be and looking happy or something.

  Ugh.

  My cousin, Iris, leans forward from where she’s sitting across from us. “Who’s this?”

  “Damien,” he says as he introduces himself. “I’m Michelle’s date.”

  Iris’s eyes widen and I beg her to not ask questions with my eyes. But like everyone in my family, listening is the last thing they enjoy doing.

  “Date? How long have you been dating?” Iris shifts her gaze from me back to him.

  “Six months—”

  “Three weeks—”

  We talk over each other, which leaves my cheeks burning. “It depends,” I say finally. He’s looking at me with a strange expression on his face, but when I move to look at him it’s gone.

  “It was love at first sight,” he tells Iris, his smile soft.

  I try to melt into my chair and pretend I don’t exist. I had hoped we could sneak in, do the dinner, then sneak out, but that’s apparently not in our agenda.

  “What about for you?” Iris asks me, clearly enjoying my pain.

  “It was something, all right,” I grumble under my breath. I’m not looking at either of them.

  “This must be Damien?” My sister’s voice chimes in. Exactly who I didn’t want to talk to.

  “You must be Michelle’s sister.” Damien extends a hand for her to shake, smiles his charming smile as she introduces herself. Thankfully it’s not the one that makes my panties melt off. No, this is a normal one.

  Maybe that’s how he smiles for other people, my traitorous brain wonders. Maybe the panty-melting smile is just for me.

  I tell my brain to get a life.

  “Can I borrow Michelle for a few?” Rebecca smiles.

  “Of course.” Damien stands to move my chair so I can get out comfortably.

  I stare at him for a long second. How can a single human be so perfect? He’s looking at me with raised eyebrows, like I’m the alien in this situation.

  “Earth to Michelle,” Rebecca says impatiently. Then she grabs my wrist and drags me away.

  Damien

  It’s not my fault I was blessed with superhuman hearing. I stand and go lean against the wall, aware Michelle’s back is to me. But I can see her sister.

  “Michelle,” Rebecca says, a hand propped on her waist. They look a lot alike, but Rebecca’s hair is lighter and eyes darker.

  She’s pretty, but she’s not Michelle.

  “I’m going to murder you when this is over,” Michelle grumbles.

  “Please tell me you’ve tapped that.”

  Silence.

  Rebecca slams her hand to her forehead in a dramatic gesture. “What is wrong with you?”

  “A lot of things,” Michelle mutters. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. I pull my phone out and stare at it. That way, in case they turn around, I look like I’m actually doing something that isn’t eavesdropping.

  “He likes you,” Rebecca says, and the conviction in her voice surprises me. I turn my head just enough that I can see her looking at me over Michelle’s shoulders. She can tell I’m listening, then. Maybe she’s half bat.

  Michelle snorts. I see her cross her arms over her chest, like she’s giving herself a hug. “Yeah, right.”

  Rebecca does something to Michelle’s face that I can’t see, but it makes Michelle smack her in the arm.

  “Got your nose,” Rebecca says, holding her hand out with her thumb between the fingers.

  “What are we, five?” I wish I could see Michelle’s face, but her body language is all I’ve got. She looks tense, her shoulders up towards her ears. I wish I could reach out and touch her, smooth the tension away.

  “Seriously,” Rebecca says, the teasing dropping from her tone as she looks straight at Michelle. “Ask him out. He’s cute. And I know you like him.”

  “Guys like him don’t like girls like me,” Michelle says with a shrug. “It’s a fact of life.”

  Rebecca’s eyes roll so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of her head. “Like you actually believe that.”

  “You’re not supposed to be playing matchmaker at your own wedding.” Michelle has apparently decided to try a different tact.

  Rebecca’s face softens. I wish I knew what expression was on Michelle’s face. What she was thinking. I wish I could pluck the worries from her mind and give her everything she wanted before she even realized she needed it.

  “Michelle, I just want you to be happy,” Rebecca says quietly. “You’ve been so shut off since Jason cheated on you, and the way you look at that man?” She tilts her head to the side. “Take a chance, girl.”

  Instead of waiting for Michelle to reply, Rebecca reaches out and squeezes her arm. “I’ll see you later.” Then Rebecca saunters off, but not before catching my eye and winking. She’s waited until Michelle is out of eyeshot, thankfully.

  I raise an eyebrow at Rebecca. If I had to guess, that entire conversation was engineered for me to hear it.

  Someday I’ll have to thank her sister. Maybe at my wedding. When I marry Michelle.

  4

  Michelle

  I come out of the bathroom in my pajamas, a pair of sweatpants I really should recycle and a t-shirt that’s seen better days. But they’re both comfortable and concealing, so it is what it is. Damien’s already sitting on his side of the bed, fiddling with something on his phone.

  My mind is still spinning over talking to Rebecca. Ask him out. He likes me.

  Inwardly I snort, but I hide it by turning to my suitcase and pretending to adjust my toiletries. I grab my comb and start on my hair, hating that it’s managed to turn into a snarly mess. I was blessed with straight hair, but any time I even look at it wrong, it knots up.

  “Can I do that?”

  I jump about a foot in the air. I didn’t even hear Damien move, much less come up behind me. I stare at him, wide-eyed. “Um, you don’t have—”

  “I would like to.” His blue eyes are gentle, locked on my face. He looks genuine.

  I just don’t know what to do with him. “Um. I guess.” I hesitantly give h
im the comb. “My hair tangles really easily, so if you get frustrated, um, just let me know—”

  He stops my rambling by placing a finger on my lips. “I have two younger sisters,” he says, maneuvering me so I’m sitting on the chair facing the desk. “They made me keep my hair long when I was a kid so they could practice.”

  I smile at the mental image. “They did your hair?”

  He starts working his fingers through my hair, identifying the knots and starting to tease them apart. “They did,” he says, and I realize his words are muffled because the comb is in his mouth. “Made me do theirs, too.”

  “I can hold that,” I say, reach up for it.

  He moves back out of my reach, and I scowl at him. Gently, with those ridiculously huge hands of his, he turns my head so I’m staring straight ahead. I’m not sure what to do. My stomach is squirming. It’s surprisingly sensual to have his hands in my hair. His fingers are careful, working at each tangle until it gives in and stops strangling my hair.

  As he works, he’s also massaging my scalp, and I can’t help but let out a moan. The moment I realize it, I slam a hand to my mouth and turn scarlet. Fuck. I hope he didn’t hear it. While my brain panics, my body, however, is busy reacting to his touch. My heart is racing, palms starting to sweat. I can feel myself getting wetter, can feel my body tightening. I want him.

  I’m too nervous to look back at him. What if he thinks I brought him just to hit on him?

  Rebecca’s right. My brain is fried.

  He’s sliding the comb through my hair with ease, trying to identify any last tangles, but I don’t feel any. When he pulls the comb out, he leans down and kisses the top of my head, right where the part is. “There. All done.”

  I’m simultaneously glued to my seat and wanting to run away at the same time. “Um. Thank you.”

  His hand settles on my shoulder, keeping me from moving. He lifts his other hand to trace a strand of my hair. “Do you dye it?”

  I shake my head. I’m afraid if he keeps touching me, I’m going to explode. “I’ve just always had dark hair,” I say. “Rebecca does too, but she lightens hers.”

  Then the biggest yawn to ever exist takes over my face, and I fight to cover it with my hand. He must look at me and think I’m the unsexiest creature to ever exist. God knows I’m feeling that way.

  “Tired?” He still hasn’t turned where I can see him, and I’m surprised that at the moment, I prefer it that way. I don’t have to worry about what he’s thinking. He’s just there. I’m just here. The only point of contact is his hand on my shoulder.

  “I didn’t sleep well,” I admit in a moment of weakness.

  His thumb starts caressing my back. I tense, I’ll admit it. That single point of contact is electrifying, the only thing I can focus on.

  “Look.” He moves around so I can see him, crouching down in front of me. His light eyes are intent, like I’m the only thing that exists in his world. I’m trying not to hold my breath. I feel dizzy, like I’m going to pass out. I’ve never had someone look at me like this.

  Damien

  I put my hands on her knees, partially to steady myself but also to keep her from running. She’s staring at me like I'm the crazy one.

  “I really like you," I say, holding her eyes. I start with something simple, something that hopefully won’t scare her away. ‘I want to marry you and have kids with you’ is probably coming on a bit strong when she already seems nervous. “I agreed to come because I want to spend time with you.”

  Her cheeks are flushed, and hope and fear consume her face. It’s like she wants to believe, but she’s afraid, too.

  “What did your ex do to you?” I try to keep my voice steady. Maybe if I know what it was, I can help soothe her worries.

  And since the guy’s supposed to be here, I can beat him to a pulp. That’ll help.

  She looks away from me immediately. Her hands are on her lap now, tightened into fists. “I walked in on him with one of my good friends.” A pause. “Someone I thought was a good friend, anyway.” She sounds bitter. “I trusted them.” Her voice is distant now. There’s a hurt there that she’s not touched.

  I reach up and cup her cheek. “He’s a fucking idiot to give you up,” I say, and she lifts her eyes to meet mine. There’s a tear rolling down her cheek. I wonder how much she’s talked about her past, because it still seems to be pretty raw. Like by asking, I’m ripping the bandaid off.

  It’s hard to explain how it feels, watching the emotion on her face. My heart feels like it’s breaking in half, like the only thing I can bring myself to do is find the asshole who hurt her and beat the crap out of him until he’s paid for what he did to her. But that wouldn’t do anything for her. Not right now. The other half of me wants nothing more than to kiss her, please her, until the only thing she can think about is how good it feels.

  Before I can stop myself, I move to kiss her. My hands cradle her face, the brush of my lips against hers teasing for a second until I can’t handle it. I groan as she opens her lips, letting my tongue taste her. She’s kissing me back, albeit tentatively. Like she can’t believe it’s really happening.

  When I pull back, she’s staring at me with dark eyes. I lean back down, but she stops me with a hand on my chest.

  For too long, we just stay there, staring at each other. I want to know what she’s thinking. What she’s feeling. She’s looking for something. I hope I can give it to her.

  Then she stands and pushes me until I’m sitting on the bed and she climbs on my lap, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and burying her face in my neck.

  Surprised, I wrap my arms around her, reveling in the feeling of her warm body against mine. My cock has gotten in on the action, so I try and shift discreetly so it’s not poking her. I’m not sure what she wants, and while I want her, if I have to wait, I will.

  “I’m scared,” she admits, her voice so quiet that I can barely hear her.

  I squeeze her gently, kiss what part of her I can reach. “You don’t have anything to fear from me.” I mean the words, too.

  We stay like that for a long time, her in my lap and her head tucked away from me. My hands sneak up her oversized t-shirt to draw designs on her back, and every so often she shivers when I touch something particularly sensitive. I ache to move her, cup her breasts, take them into my mouth, but I don’t.

  It’s agony, waiting, but I know it’ll make the moment she says yes that much sweeter.

  “Can we stay like this?” Michelle sounds embarrassed.

  “C’mere.” With her still on my lap, I reach back and adjust the pillows until I can lay down. I ease her down with me until she’s laying mostly on top of me, her leg slotted between mine. I’m hard, she can tell, but she doesn’t make a move to do anything about it and I don’t pressure her.

  She shifts around a bit until she’s comfortable, but after a few seconds she props her chin on my chest so she can look at me. “You’re really not going to push me?”

  “Do you want me to push you?” I ask. If it’s something she wants, I can get behind that.

  Her eyes dip down, and she shifts so her ear is over my heartbeat. “I didn’t sleep at all last night,” she admits. “I would love to jump you, but I’m so tired I’m starting to see things.”

  Her admission is surprisingly vulnerable, and I can’t blame her. I didn’t sleep either.

  Holding her securely against me, I mess with the covers until she’s comfy. I don’t know how I’m going to go back to sleeping without her perfect body pressed against mine. She fits like she was made for me and I was made for her.

  I lean down and kiss the top of her head. “Sleep,” I say softly.

  She leans up to give me a sleepy smile, and then it’s just a matter of minutes before she’s asleep in my arms.

  I lean down and kiss her once more. “I love you,” I whisper, knowing she can’t hear me. I’ll tell her sooner rather than later. But for now, I’ll move at whatever pace she wants.

&n
bsp; 5

  Michelle

  I wake up half on top of Damien, and I scrabble away from him before my brain catches up with what happened and reminds me of the events of the night before. By the time I wake up enough to stop panicking, Damien’s awake and looking at me with concern.

  I suppose I did sort of run away from him like he was on fire.

  “Hi,” I say, like the suave and sophisticated creature I am.

  His smile is deadly, sending shivers down my body and making me want to crawl on top of him and kiss him senseless.

  “You shouldn’t smile like that in public,” I say instead, moving until I’m sitting next to him. He reaches out and takes one of my hands, twining the fingers together. He’s still laying down, but his eyes are on me.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s going to kill me.” My smile is crooked, but it’s a true smile.

  He laughs. “That good?”

  I hold up our combined hands and kiss the back of his palm. “All of you is.”

  He squeezes my hand. “You’re pretty sexy yourself, Michelle.”

  I want to not believe him. I want to pull away. But the way he’s looking at me, the way he says it—I’ve never felt sexier. I’ve never felt more wanted.

  It doesn’t matter that I’m dressed in the sloppiest clothes known to mankind. That my hair is probably all over the place and with my luck, probably got all over his face while we were sleeping. He looks like he wants to eat me for breakfast.

  And I would let him. But then I glance at the time.

  “Shit.” I bolt off the bed, racing to my suitcase. “We’re supposed to be there in an hour.” I start pulling things out of my bag. The dress is already hanging up, but there’s everything I need to wear underneath it and make up and everything else. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Can I come?” He looks hopeful.