H.E.A.T. Book Bundle (H.E.A.T. Books 1-3)

by Nicola Claire

  “Superintendent.”

  He inclines his head slowly. “Superintendent,” is said even slower.

  We stare at each other.

  “Just seems like a handy alibi,” the Inspector finally remarks. “I wonder if it’s been hastily provided.”

  “Are you doubting my honesty?” I query.

  “Convenience,” he counters. “It’s very convenient. What would this Haydee…” He picks up the affidavit and reads Haydee’s name off it. “Elizabeth Armstrong say to one of my detectives if they turned up at her address? What would she say to Detective Keen?”

  “You want my daughter to question the woman I intend to marry before she’s had a chance to meet her officially?” The words are out before I can stop them, but they settle on the air quite comfortably.

  I’m going to marry Haydee. I’m going to make her mine completely one day.

  But first I have to deal with this Neanderthal.

  He whistles. “Really? Lara’s new mother.”

  The blow is significant and yet I was somehow prepared.

  I nod my head and smile, baring my teeth slightly.

  “Come on, Inspector,” Hart says robustly. “You were with this woman all night?”

  “All night,” I say pleasantly. “And all night last night as well, if you’d like to check.”

  “But not get Lara to do it?”

  “It would be a courtesy I would appreciate.”

  “She’s working this case whether you like it or not,” he blusters.

  “Then let her work it. I’m officially no longer a suspect.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” he mumbles.

  “Pardon?” I heard him and he knows it.

  He waves a hand dismissively.

  “Then who do you think did it, Superintendent?”

  “You want me to solve your crimes as well as clear one of your suspects off the list?”

  “Hey now,” he says defensively. “You did sleep with the vic,” again his eyes dart down to the affidavit as he counts in a loud whisper, “one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven times. That you remember,” he tags on the end.

  I shrug my shoulders. “Samantha was a lot of fun.”

  It’s the wrong thing to say. A spark of predatory delight enters his eyes.

  “She was, was she? Liked it a little rough from what we hear. Did you accommodate her?”

  I stand up from my chair and straighten my sleeves and jacket.

  “I trust the assistant commissioner has been in touch,” I say casually.

  “He has. Was that your doing?”

  “He, like myself, is concerned with how this investigation is progressing. Samantha Hayes was a lovely lady who did not deserve to be killed in such a fashion.” My words are vehement, I let him see my anger. In this I am righteously mad. “As requested, we’d like regular updates on the steps you are taking.”

  “I don’t answer to you, Keen.”

  “Superintendent or sir, Inspector. Don’t make me repeat it. And you will answer to the assistant commissioner.”

  He stands up from behind his desk and stares me down, but he doesn’t correct me.

  Walking towards the door he says, “I’ll add your affidavit to the case file. I won’t hide it from my detectives.” In other words, he won’t hide it from Lara. I can’t blame him; it’s integral to the case. To clearing my name. My daughter will know more than she has ever been privy to in the past.

  I feel slightly ill at the thought.

  “Well, then,” he says, but can’t seem to bring himself to say anything more. He opens the door and steps through it.

  Immediately I spot Lara.

  God, just once, just one fucking time, I’d like someone to cut me a break.

  “Lara-Marie,” I say, taking control of the situation. “Working on a Saturday. I am surprised.”

  The detective next to her, Pierce I believe his name is, gapes at me as if I have two heads.

  “Crime never takes a break, sir,” she says and then instantly turns a shade too close to green.

  “Are you all right?” I ask, immediately taking a step closer. She looks like she’s going to be sick.

  “Doughnuts,” she croaks out. “Too many doughnuts.”

  Pierce moves forward and offers a somewhat unhinged, “My fault. Can’t get enough of the things.” He picks up a greasy looking bag and holds it out in offering. “Would you like to try one, Superintendent?”

  “The Superintendent has more important things to do than eat your damn doughnut holes, Pierce,” Hart exclaims. “I expect more from a Senior Sergeant than this!”

  If it wasn’t so ridiculous I’d laugh. They’re like the bloody keystone cops.

  “Indeed,” I say, trying my best to look affronted.

  I turn to Hart. “You’ll deal with this as requested, then?”

  He glares at me but offers a polite, “I’ll do what’s expected, sir.”

  I nod my head. “Good. Right then. Good day.” And then force myself to walk out the door.

  It’s difficult. I want to look back at Lara. I want to take her by the shoulders and yell at her to stay away from my private life. To protect herself from the fallout that’s about to ensue. She’s good at what she does. She’s made a name for herself in a male dominated profession. I’m aware my reputation could do more harm in this Police Force than just to me.

  I slip into my car and check my watch. Haydee has agreed to attend the EMS banquet with me tomorrow, instead of sharing dinner with me tonight. I wanted both. I didn’t ask for it. I’d let her feel her way a little in this as well. But now, sitting in a police carpark having bared the darkest parts of my soul in a legally binding document, I’m not sure I can survive without her until tomorrow.

  I start the car and head towards the Shore. She doesn’t teach on a Saturday, but she said she’d be touching base with some of her children at the Home. I might be overstepping the mark, but I feel drawn to her. I feel compelled to seek her out, wrap her chain around my wrist, and seal the deal with my lips caressing her mouth.

  I need her and the need is growing exponentially.

  My cellphone rings before I make it across the Harbour Bridge. I glance down and see Jason’s name lighting up the screen.

  Hitting the Bluetooth device I say, “So he’s complained to you already?”

  Jason whistles low. “You got some balls on you, Keen. I’ll give you that. Ropeable doesn’t even cover it.”

  “I think I might have stepped on his toes,” I point out.

  “That’s one way of putting it. Where are you now?”

  “Heading across to the Shore.”

  “The Shore? Oh,” he says, understanding dawning. “Your pet.”

  I almost correct him. So close my mouth actually hangs open. I snap it shut. Jason isn’t ready for that amount of change, even if he’s the one to have instigated it.

  “Well, if she turns you down, it’s poker night at Jimmy’s.”

  “I’ll pass,” I say. I couldn’t think of anything worse.

  “Yeah, well, the chances of a pet saying no is quite unheard of, isn’t it? Have fun!” he says and ends the call before I can remark.

  They’re on my mind, Jason’s words, all the way down Lake Road. I pull into the Wilson Home and just sit there. There are rules to this lifestyle. But each couple is different. Each arrangement created to suit its own individual needs. What Haydee requires, another pet may not. And even if my requirements are changing, hers may not change at all.

  Am I doing the right thing?

  I sit there so long I am spotted; a willowy figure with short pixie-like dark hair wanders out of the main building and walks towards my driver’s side window. In an instant all my fears disappear.

  I climb out of the vehicle and lean back against it, waiting for her to make my side.

  She smiles and stops before me. The chain sparkles at her neck making me instantly hard. This reaction I have is almost comical, i
f it didn’t feel so damn right.

  “Am I disturbing you?” I ask.

  “Never,” she says softly. And then waits for me to fill in the silence. She’s not impatient. She doesn’t fidget. She calmly and serenely looks up at my face, expectant and attentive. Completely focused on me as if I haven’t just interrupted her plans.

  “What is it you want, Haydee?” I ask, reaching forward and lifting up her chain. I have it wrapped around my wrist without even trying.

  She looks down at the jewels, the sunlight sparkling off each one and reflecting up into her eyes. Then her face lifts to the sun and she closes her lids, long lashes sweeping down over smooth skin. She’s stunning. And so fragile. A beautiful, complicated creature.

  “What is it you want, Ethan?” she says to the sky.

  What a question. And how do I answer it?

  Her face tips down and she smiles at me.

  “More,” I say softly.

  “Then ask,” she whispers back.

  “Haydee,” I say, my lips dry, my throat parched. “Will you give me more?”

  “More what, sir?” she says, and my heart swells, along with other parts of my anatomy.

  “More of your time. More of your life. More of everything.”

  “That’s a lot,” she remarks.

  “It is, isn’t it?” I agree. We both smile at each other and then she sighs. It’s at once wistful and also full of… regret? No, not regret, uncertainty.

  “You scare me, you know?” No, I didn’t know. This has me instantly worried. “I think you’ll take me places I’ve never been.”

  Oh.

  “I think you might just set me free.”

  “I will,” I promise. Because somehow I know I can. Even if I make it my life’s work to please this woman, I’ll do it. I’ll never stop. I’ll never give up. I’ll always keep trying.

  Isn’t that what a partnership is all about? Trust. Commitment. Dedication.

  I am all of those things to this woman. All of them.

  “OK,” she says.

  “OK?”

  She nods her head in that delightful measured way she has.

  “More time. More life. More everything.”

  “OK,” I say. “Ah, I’ve never done this before,” I admit making her laugh.

  I like it. Her laugh is delicate, but full of life. Bright and bubbly.

  “What about your wife?”

  “Anna? Anna was different. Anna was…” I hesitate, trying to find the right word.

  I find it and I’m not sure if I should use it. What does it say about us?

  “Tell me,” Haydee presses, leaning in to me, bringing her soothing scent of vanilla and roses nearer.

  “Anna didn’t need me,” I say carefully, watching Haydee’s eyes for a sign. For a warning I’ve gone too far.

  “That must have been hard,” she says, surprising me. Of course, she surprises me.

  “Hard?” I question.

  “For a provider, a protector, like you.”

  “Yes,” I say. “It was hard. But I loved her.”

  Haydee smiles, but doesn’t say anything.

  “Loved,” I repeat, almost to myself. Not love.

  I reach up and cup Haydee’s face. “Can we work it out as we go?”

  She nods, turns her lips to my palm and kisses.

  “I’d like that,” she whispers against the same spot she’s just kissed.

  “So would I,” I say, but the words are barely audible.

  She straightens and looks towards the Wilson Home building. “Would you like to meet the kids?”

  I can think of a million things I’d like to do more than meet the kids. But I don’t mention them. It’s quite possible she sees some of the more wicked alternatives in my eyes, all the same.

  “I’d love to meet the kids,” I say.

  She leads me into the building, her fingers laced through mine, her eyes flicking over her shoulder to look at me every few seconds. There’s an excitement there. She’s keen to show me her world. And suddenly meeting the kids is the most important thing in my life.

  We spend several hours there. I even end up on the floor, sitting cross-legged, with toddlers climbing all over me. It’s the strangest afternoon I’ve ever experienced, and yet seeing Haydee’s smile and hearing the way she communicates with these beautiful, challenged children, fills my heart with warmth. She is sunshine on a cloudy day. She is the soft touch of a summer breeze. The delicate stroke of a snowflake as it dusts your skin.

  She is stunning.

  And I have every intention of letting her know that.

  I follow her to her house in Bayswater, still on the North Shore. The journey she’s been undertaking to get across the city to my house finally sinks in. Part of me is honoured that I’m worth the effort. Another part is frightened the distance will be taxing.

  “You like living here?” I ask, as she sweeps through her modest flat and starts pulling ingredients out of her cupboards for dinner.

  “It’s close to work,” she says, seeming at peace with herself in the kitchen.

  “I hadn’t realised you lived so far away,” I murmur, picking up a book she’s been reading from beside an armchair. I smile as I read the description. It could be our lives written there.

  “I like the drive,” she admits. “It allows me to settle things in my mind. Switch off from work. Click into what we have.”

  My head comes up and I look at her. She’s humming happily, not at all concerned about what she’s said. But I am. I walk towards her and enter the open-plan kitchen, moving until I’m right at her back. She senses my presence and moves to turn around. I still her progress, lean forward and place my hands on the bench on either side of her body, hemming her in. My lips come down on the side of her neck, hot breath against the skin there. Goosebumps rise up in a wave of chilled delight.

  “You don’t think of me when you’re at work?” I ask against her ear.

  “I do,” she whispers back.

  I lean in closer, soak up the heat from her body, let her feel the hardness of mine. Solid, safe.

  “What do you think of when you think of me when at work, pet?” I say, letting her know this has moved on from a casual conversation.

  “I…” she starts, then licks her lips and closes her eyes.

  I lift a hand up and wrap it around her throat, pull her back against my chest. She fits in just the right places. Her pert little arse exactly where my aching cock needs it.

  “Tell me,” I order.

  “I think of what you do to me. How you make me feel,” she says, her words breathless.

  “And how to I make you feel?”

  “Good,” she says immediately. “Safe,” she adds.

  “Good girl,” I say, rewarding her with a nibble on her ear. “And what do I do to you?”

  “Set me free,” she whispers.

  “I make you feel good and safe. And I set you free?” I press.

  She nods her head.

  “Say it,” I demand.

  “Yes, sir. You make me feel good and safe. And you set me free.”

  I move my free hand down over her stomach, palm flat, fingers outstretched, lower, lower, and then grip the hem of her skirt and start to raise it.

  “So why do you need to switch off from work? Click into what we have?”

  My fingers find the edge of her panties and I slip under the material, drawn to her heat. She’s wet and I’d guess aching. I let my hand hover over her mound, but don’t touch anything yet.

  “Haydee?” I push. “Answer me.”

  “I…I don’t know,” she stammers.

  I thrust two fingers inside her and rock my erection into her rear. She gasps, head falling forward in her signature show of surrender, chest rising and falling as she pants out her breaths. I fuck her with my fingers as I hold her still with my hand against her throat.

  “Master,” she begs.

  “Tell me,” I say softly. My hand slipping out from between her
legs and making her moan.

  “Two separate worlds,” she says, the words pleading, even though they aren’t a plea.

  I bring my hand up to her face, wet fingers to her lips.

  “Suck them clean,” I say.

  She snakes her tongue out and immediately starts licking her juices off my fingertips, then I slip them into her mouth completely, holding her still and tipping her head back, face to the ceiling.

  “I am part of your world, Haydee,” I say, moving my hand from her throat and bringing it ‘round to unfasten my trousers. “At work. At home. Out and about. And when you get in your car and drive across the Bridge to me.”

  I free myself, then pull down her panties, letting them hold her legs together at her knees.

  “There is no clicking into what we have, is there?” I say.

  She shakes her head, moving my hand with the fingers still in her mouth, as she effects the motion.

  “There are no two separate worlds, are there?” I insist.

  Another head shake. I remove my fingers from her mouth, push her forward until she’s bent over the bench, and then thrust hard inside.

  Oh, fuck! She’s wet, and tight, and explodes around me as soon as I sink in up to my balls. I clench my teeth as I suck in a sharp breath of air, and wait for her muscles to relax. They pulsate all around me, drawing me in further, drawing me in until I feel like I’m beneath her skin.

  I want more.

  I start to rock, pressing her up against the bench, making her have to bring her hands up to stop the hard thrusts from pushing her too vigorously into the kitchen cupboards.

  I pound into her. I take what I want and in return let her know that she is mine. Always. Here at her home, in her kitchen. At school when she fantasises about me. In her car as she prepares to bare her body for my use. Everywhere.

  This woman is mine and I tell her so.

  I come violently. She shatters beneath me. Heaving breaths, high pitched keen, shaking around my cock as she leans her face down on the bench, hot breath steaming across granite.

  “You are mine, Haydee,” I say to the skin at the back of her neck, my cock twitching and jerking inside her.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “No matter where,” I add.

  “Everywhere,” she whispers, shuddering with delight as she delivers the promise.

  God, this woman is perfect.