Huck was the only one who’d made me feel like me. If it was Huck on the other line, then I should speak up. At the same time, I was worried that outside Secrets our relationship wouldn’t last. That the magic of text would be broken by our voices.
So I breathed into the phone like I was auditioning for the role of Ghostface in Scream.
“Dandelion?” the voice asked. I hiccuped at his words. “Dandelion, I’m glad you called.”
A million emotions and thoughts ran through me at once. I felt thrilled. I felt excited. I felt terror. I also felt that little niggling thought that I knew the person already…but I couldn’t know his voice, right? I only knew Huck through the computer and other than him the only men in my life now were Morris and—
My grip slipped from the phone, but I caught it just before it fell.
“Law,” I said into the phone, my voice cold. Had he been playing me this entire time? Was it not enough to almost fuck me, he had to fuck with me too?
“Nami?” Law asked, sounding surprised.
“Oh don’t start with me Huck,” I fumed. “Game’s over now. You got inside my head, congratulations. Now go back to Morris and tell him what a good boy you’ve been.”
“Dammit, Nami!” Huck—I mean Law, yelled. “What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m not working for Morris? I’m just as fucking surprised as you are that you’re Dandelion.”
I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see. “Do you really fucking expect me to believe that? That of all the people on that app, you responded?”
“I don’t care what you believe any more Nami. I’m sick of trying to prove that I’m not the bad guy.” Huck—Law, dammit!—hung up before I could. I stared at the blank screen for a few moments then chucked it at the wall. Watching the phone break in two, I felt a momentary catharsis for the girl I’d become.
There was a knock on my door. I eyed it from my couch warily. I was comfortable, finally. After having spent a few hours drinking to forget my humiliation, now I was watching Netflix and researching the reporter Matthew Jameson. I’d even laughed a bit at the TV. Progress, right?
Before looking up Jameson, I’d looked up Law. Turned out it was a bit harder to do than just googling “FBI ID number”. I’d had to actually call the FBI, and when I told them I was trying to confirm if “Law” had worked there, they thought I was playing a prank and hung up on me. I almost gave up, thinking Law really was a scumbag. Still, there was that annoying feeling in my gut, so I pressed on. Finally someone connected me to the right bureaucrat and they confirmed that yes, Law was a former FBI agent. I drank a few more glasses of whiskey after getting that confirmation.
Back to Jameson. According to the all-knowing internet, Jameson was a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist who covered such lighthearted topics as government corruption, genocide, and sex trafficking. He’d won the Pulitzer for an exposé on sex trafficking within government-subsidized corporations. I hated to admit it, but he seemed like the real deal. Why he was living in Salt Lake City, I couldn’t tell you.
Suffice it to say, after all the research and whiskey, when someone knocked on the door, I didn’t want to get off my ass and answer it. I knew nothing good waited on the other side. I didn’t have friends. I didn’t have family. All I had were paparazzi and potential rapists. It was past twelve in the morning and I knew that whatever was knocking on my door was most certainly a boogieman.
Another knock sounded on the door and I burrowed farther into my couch. If it couldn’t hear me, then it couldn’t get me, right? A pang of grief hit my chest as I remembered Raskol, who would’ve undoubtedly been barking at the door. He might have been a small and, at times, unreliable guard dog, but he was my small and, at times, unreliable guard dog.
“Nami open your door! It’s me, Law!” I perked up a bit, looking at my door with less hostility and more interest. Why was Law here? Still, my interest was not enough to get me off the couch. Law was persona non grata in the DeGrace house.
“Go away!” I yelled, curling myself in blankets.
“I will stay here and wake up all of your neighbors if you don’t let me in!”
“Go ahead!” I yelled back. “They hate me anyway!” Silence radiated through the wood, and I hoped that Law had decided against staying. When I’d all but settled back into my alcohol-induced comfort, I heard something truly disturbing.
Singing.
Loud, operatic singing.
I could hear Law clearly through my door, though the language was unknown. He was bellowing the notes, his voice getting higher and louder. It was beautiful, but it was also incredibly annoying. I didn’t mind him waking up my neighbors—they’d been less than kind to me; I did mind, however, my neighbors calling the police. I didn’t want to deal with the police. Ever again, if I could help it.
I opened my door, angry, slightly tipsy, and using my blanket as a cape. Law didn’t stop singing even though I opened the door. He continued, his voice an operatic majesty that did not belong in my hallway. He even gesticulated with his hands.
“Stop!” I yelled. Law continued to sing, gesturing at my apartment that I blocked with my body. I glared furiously at him as I let him enter my apartment. He only stopped his song when I closed the door behind us.
“What the hell was that?” I fumed, trying to block him farther entry into my apartment. If I could keep him contained to just the entryway, then I technically hadn’t lost.
“Puccini. Madama Butterfly.”
I raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “So you’re an FBI guy who sung in the opera?” I wondered when I would get to the truth of him—Huck, Law, whoever the hell he was.
“I’m an FBI guy who had a grandfather that loved the opera,” Law explained.
I scoffed and, remembering why I hated Law, got to the point. “Why did you come here?”
“I decided that I do care what you think of me.” Before I could respond, Law pulled me in both arms and kissed me on the mouth, hard.
I fought Law, pushing at his chest and biting at his lip until I tasted copper. He stepped away from me, untangling his hands from my hair and dropping them to his sides. For the first time since Law had barged into my life, I saw him undone.
“Sorry,” he rasped. “Sorry. That was…” Law shook his head. “That was wrong, I’m sorry.” I squinted, not sure what to make of him. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, the kiss had been all consuming. Intense. Visceral.
Terrifying, too. I couldn’t forget that. It had been terrifying. Not because I remembered Morris, but because for an instant I’d forgotten him. I’d drowned in Law’s flavor and smell. For those few brief seconds, I was free.
“Kiss me,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. Law’s honey gaze was elsewhere, so clouded it appeared like a stormy sunset. I spoke up again. “Kiss me.”
Law snapped his attention back to me. “What did you say?”
He knew what I’d said. I could see it in the way his gaze narrowed and his jaw clenched. Law was giving me an out, giving me another chance to say no. I took a deep breath and said, “Kiss me.”
Law closed the distance between us, his movements careful and calculated. I watched everything about him, from the way the muscles in his neck contracted and pulsed, to the hard gleam in his eye. He wanted me, that much was clear. The restraint in his features, though, was more alluring than any aphrodisiac.
When Law reached me he placed his hands on my hips, but he didn’t grab me or clutch me. His fingers rested featherlight on either side. I felt them with stark clarity, though. Every sense was attuned to him.
“Say it again,” Law demanded.
I complied. “Kiss me.”
It was like a wave crashed over us. Law gripped me, pulling us together. His light touch turned to stone, and I felt the raw power of him. We were two storms smashing in a plain. Two black holes colliding, and our ripple was felt throughout the entire universe. It wasn’t enough to describe our flesh meeting, because Law and I were extraterrestri
al.
It wasn’t hate.
It wasn’t lust.
I wasn’t sure it was even love.
What happened when we fused was something like nuclear fission. We exploded. Our tongues fused, our hands frantically ripped off clothing. Foreplay was forgotten because our foreplay had been going on since the minute we’d laid eyes on one another.
“Are you sure you want this?” Law asked against my lips. He bent down to kiss my neck, tongue sweeping across the skin. I groaned. Did I want this?
“Shut up and fuck me,” I demanded. Law listened, ripping off my clothes and tossing them to the side. For a few slow seconds I was very aware that I was naked. It was the first time since Morris that I’d been naked with a man. Naked with anyone, even. The seconds dragged on at a terrifyingly slow pace. I felt cold. I felt exposed. I looked around for something to look at, just like I’d done with Morris. I needed a piece of furniture to help me cope.
Just as my gaze landed on a nick in my couch, Law grabbed my chin. “What’s happening right now? Look at me.” He held my skin with gentle force and so I focused on that, on the feeling of his rough hands on my smooth skin. When I was calmed, I took a deep breath and made myself look into his eyes. Warm like honey, and just as sweet.
I hadn’t even noticed he was naked; I’d been too busy trying to forget that I was. Heat rushed to my cheeks and between my thighs. He was absolutely stunning. Sculpted and defined. Raw. I leaned in and kissed him, pressing myself to his body, feeling the warmth he offered.
“Nothing,” I said, separating our lips. “Nothing is happening. I’m fine.” Law looked at me skeptically, but only for an instant. He wrapped his thick arms around me, pulling me in for a deeper kiss. Unlike before, where we’d been feverish and fast, this kiss was slow, languorous, and heady. I felt myself getting high off him, more so than I did with alcohol and weed.
Law lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around him. He curled his hands around me tighter and started backing us into the bedroom.
“No,” I said when I realized where we were headed. Law immediately stopped. “Not in there.” I still couldn’t sleep in the bedroom, not after Morris. Maybe I never would. I quickly kissed Law to let him know I still wanted to continue.
“I’ll fuck you against the wall, Dandelion,” Law growled against my lips. “But I think you deserve better than that.”
“The couch,” I said. Law raised a brow but carried me over to my ratty couch. It was old, I’d gotten it off the side of the road, but it was mine and it hadn’t been tainted by Morris. The few nice blankets I’d gotten at an outlet store were draped over the side. Plush and warm, they had been Raskol’s favorite place to sleep.
Still carrying me, Law picked up one of the blankets and threw it on the couch. He laid me down before climbing on top. Flashbacks of Morris’s big, hulking body suffocating me came out of nowhere. I started to hyperventilate and squirm. Quickly Law got off of me.
“I can’t…” I said between breaths. “I can’t be on bottom.”
As if it were the most normal thing in the world for a woman to freak out like that, Law simply pulled me onto his lap. The way I straddled him had his cock begging for entrance.
It wasn’t his cock that had me gasping and head high, though. It was his intense stare. It was the way he grasped my head between his hands, locking me into that honey gaze. It was the way he gently stroked my hair, making me feel loved. It was the way he made me feel safe. Even before Morris, I had never felt so cherished.
“Are you ready?” Law asked, sliding his hands from my hair to my sides. I nodded. “Say it, Nami.”
“I’m ready,” I said. Did that breathy voice belong to me? Slowly I guided Law inside of me. He was so big I felt like I was being torn open. At my pained face, Law slid out, but I gripped his shoulders and demanded he go back inside.
The pain was better than the emptiness.
When Law refused, I kissed him hard on the mouth. I used my tongue to argue my point. I used my lips to plead my case. I needed him inside me. At last Law ceded and entered me. The pain only lasted for a moment that time and when he was fully ensconced, it felt like I’d been holding my breath for months and could finally breathe.
“Dandelion…” I rolled over into Law’s arms, his skin warm and sweaty. I felt inexplicably safe as he called me by the nickname we’d shared before we knew our real identities.
“Tell me about your work,” I asked, lifting my head onto my elbow.
“I worked in the FBI human trafficking division—”
“No, tell me,” I said, cutting him off.
“Well, what do you want to know?” Law sat up a bit straighter and the blankets we’d used fell down, exposing his chest. I was momentarily distracted by the hard packs of muscle, forgetting his question.
I placed my hand on his chest and asked, “Why did you go into sex trafficking?”
“I graduated head of my class. I like challenges. Human trafficking was a challenging specialization.” I frowned at his reply. He hadn’t even looked me in the eye when he responded and his tone was cold and distant. I didn’t buy his explanation for a minute. I was about to call him out when he leaned down and pulled me closer.
“Promise me you’ll call Jameson?” Law asked, his voice a breath against my ear.
“The journalist?” I questioned. My words were slurred as I got caught up in the feel of Law again. “Now?”
“No.” Law bit my ear, stretching the lobe with his teeth. “Not now, but soon.”
“I don’t know…” I resisted. Even if Law did recommend Jameson, he was still the press.
“Nami…” Law slowly licked from the base of my collarbone and back up to my ear. His warm kisses lulled me into complacency.
“Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll do it.” Playfully I pushed away from Law, situating myself on his chest. He’d won this argument, but that was all he was going to get from me for now. Truthfully, I would lose again and again if it meant he would kiss me with the same adoration, but that was a secret better kept close.
“Where’s Raskol?” The question was innocent enough. Law had no way of knowing the tearing hurt he’d just released in my chest. I tried to dismount and crawl away, but Law held me firmly, his fingers digging into my thighs. “Nami?” Law pressed. “Where is Raskol?”
“He’s dead.” The words felt like slugs in my mouth. “Morris killed him—or may as well have. He had his right arm, Becca Riley, do it.” Minutes passed where neither of us said a word. Law held me, stroking my back, and I allowed myself to be comforted. I allowed myself to feel sorrow.
I’d felt nothing save guilt the past week. Sorrow is for people who deserve to be sad. Comfort is for those with the right to feel better. I didn’t grant myself either, because Raskol’s death was on me. Riley may have murdered him, but it was my fault he was in that situation in the first place. Still, lying with Law, I allowed myself a bit of sorrow and a bit of comfort.
As the hour passed, I even allowed myself to forget.
“Nami?” Law asked.
“Yes?” I responded, fiddling with the small tufts of hair on his pectorals. As far as men go, I supposed he was a fine specimen. His abdomen and chest were sculpted like finely hewn marble. His chin could cut glass. My gaze roamed across his body, stopping just short of the sheet that covered his groin. His beauty was undeniable, but it was more than that; his body was like condensed power, each bulge and rivet a reminder of the damage he packed.
Even so, I felt safe with him. Law’s body was another reminder of the discipline he carried, unlike Morris, who was untrained and had relied on brute strength and testosterone to pin me down. The tan valleys and peaks of Law’s hard packs of muscle showed the discipline and respect he had for himself, the discipline and respect he’d shown with me.
He also had brilliant cognac eyes that would catch your breath by the sheer color of them. True to Law’s personality, though, they were always shrouded under his thick, determining brow. I
rarely saw his eyes without that shadow. Right now, he looked at me, gaze furrowed and hazel eyes obscured. I lay down on his body, trying to get a better look at those eyes. Resting my chin on his chest, I frowned back at him.
“What? What are you thinking?” For the first time in months I felt content, yet Law’s shadowed brow hung over me like a raincloud on a summer day.
“I love you,” Law replied.
Boom goes the dynamite. I sat up, feeling like fire ants had infested our tranquil couch. Reaching for the entirety of the blankets, I covered up. I turned away, choosing to stare at a banal painting instead of Law’s face. Law’s rigid, unrelenting face.
“Nami—”
“Law, no.” I shook my head, still focusing on the knockoff Garden at Giverny across from me. It had been a gift from my mom.
“Why did you have to ruin this?” I asked, turning my head slightly. I could see Law sitting up in my peripheral, his naked body like a stone statue from the Parthenon.
“I didn’t think telling you I loved you would ruin anything.”
“Law… I can’t…” I jumped up and quickly threw on some clothes: a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and some snow boots.
“Nami, what are you doing?” Law asked, his voice smooth and level, the exact opposite of how I felt.
“I’m leaving.” I looked around, desperately searching for my keys. Why the fuck didn’t I keep them in one place instead of throwing them to God knows where the minute I got home?
“This is your place.” I shrugged at his response. So what if I paid the rent? It didn’t make it “my” place. A house is not a home and all that crap. A home is a place where you sleep in a bed, not on the couch. A home is a place with warmth. A home is a place where a dog greets you. I had a place where I could drink and sometimes fall asleep without a gun under my pillow.
Dirty Law Page 13
