by Audra North
How did he get here? Living with his parents, a father figure to a kid who was growing up too fast, barreling through life with nothing to show for it. And now trying desperately to keep his father alive so they could all keep doing what they’d been doing for what felt like forever.
Would this be him in thirty years? Or would he be alone, with no one to even bother noticing he was gone, much less save his life?
Fuck, man, you’re getting morbid. Now is not the time.
Warren pushed away the dark thoughts. Everyone was counting on him. Everyone. He couldn’t let them down.
After what felt like an eternity, but was really only another ten minutes, tops, the paramedics arrived and took over. Mom went off in the ambulance with Dad, Warren threw on some clothes and grabbed a mug of coffee, and he and Nate followed in his car to the hospital.
The adrenaline started wearing off as he drove, and he found himself immersed in thoughts about Beatrice. What would she think if she could see the reality of his life? If she was smart, she’d run screaming in the other direction, like Jen had. As much as that had hurt, deep down, he couldn’t blame Jen for walking out. This was a hard fucking life, and his ex-girlfriend been used to his undivided attention.
The thing was…he’d thought that about Beatrice too—that she would need constant attention from any man who was lucky enough to have her. But now that he’d gotten to know her better, Beatrice didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who couldn’t thrive on her own. She certainly wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. If anything, she had already shown him more compassion and understanding than he’d felt in a long time. And even after that short time he’d spent with her, he’d felt less…weighed down.
“Is Grandpa going to die?” Nate’s shaky voice broke into Warren’s thoughts.
Christ.
Kelly should be here for this. Where was she, anyway? They still hadn’t heard back from her. She was probably already working, her phone stashed away in her locker. They’d have to call the diner directly once they got to the hospital.
Damn it, he was tired. He didn’t want to have to deal with this. But instead, he shook his head and tried to keep his tone as even as possible, like when he’d dealt with the public in that kidnapping last week. They’d trained him in this shit, to function coolly and calmly even when an entire city was at stake. They hadn’t told him, though, that it was much harder when it was one thirteen-year-old boy. As much as Nate was becoming more like a man every day, thirteen was still not adulthood.
“He’s going to be okay,” he replied.
He could feel Nate relax at his reassurance, and he hated how much trust the kid placed in him. But for Christ’s sake, despite how heavy it made him feel to bear the weight of Nate’s fear and hope, in that moment, a part of him wished he really was in control of everything.
Chapter Eleven
“Hey, Boss Lady, there’s someone here to see you.”
Dennis spoke to her from across the desk, and Beatrice lifted her head from her computer to see Warren standing a couple feet away.
Oh my goodness.
It was Wednesday again, but only lunchtime. They weren’t supposed to see one another for several more hours. Not that she minded seeing him earlier, really. For one, he looked good. Very good. He was in his uniform again, the dark pants hugging his strong thighs, his shirt buttoned up over that lean, muscled stomach she knew was underneath. And the scowl he wore only made him look tougher. Sexier. She had to push her knees together to alleviate the sudden throb of arousal that shot through her body at the mere sight of him.
He might not think of her as anything more than a temporary business arrangement, but she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to take all of him inside of her, to feel the power of him for herself.
Incredible. It would be incredible. She knew even without thinking about it.
Her eyes met his, and everything she was thinking must have shown in her gaze, because his expression changed, growing hotter. More intense.
Lord save her. Her entire body felt hot and all she wanted to do was unzip his pants, pull out that thick, long cock and let him have her on the desk.
“Miss Lawrence.” His voice was gruff. Deeper than usual. She blushed like an innocent little thing at the sound of his voice, for goodness sake.
“War—er…Officer Davis. To what do I owe the pleasure?” She couldn’t help but purr that last word.
She hoped he wasn’t going to cancel on her tonight…
Oh no. He was. She could sense it already.
“May I have a word with you in private?”
She nodded, rising from her desk and coming around the edge of it to stand near him. She was close enough she could smell his aftershave, and the scent alone made her breasts swell and ache to be touched. He’d smelled like that last week, when her mouth had been on his neck.
She pasted a smile on her face and led him to one of the conference rooms lining the outer hallway, her vanity glad she’d worn her figure-hugging pencil skirt today, but her spirit dreading what he was going to tell her. He wasn’t going to call off the entire arrangement, was he? What had happened last week had been outside of the bounds of their agreement, but she’d ended the session before the real stuff had happened—whatever that meant. He hadn’t seemed to object then, but maybe he had changed his mind.
She walked into one of the available rooms and shut the door behind them, then turned to face him.
“What is it, Warren?” She wished he would kiss her. It would make her feel less nervous.
“Something came up for tonight and I can’t make it.” He was standing so stiffly, almost like he was bracing himself. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but she couldn’t bring herself to pry into Warren’s personal life. She didn’t have the right, no matter how much passion he kissed her with. No matter how much of a connection she’d thought they’d had.
That reminder hurt a bit, but she forced herself to nod. “Of course. We can simply move the Wednesdays out by a week. Which means I’ll see you next week, at the usual time.” She did her best to channel all the cool confidence of Mistress Michelle when she said it.
He stared at her for a while, then slowly nodded. “Yeah. That sounds—that works.”
Was she supposed to say something else? She didn’t think so. He didn’t seem inclined to share anything, either, and another silence stretched, until finally she couldn’t take it anymore. “Well. In that case, I’ll see you out,” she told him, then put her hand to the doorknob.
But before she could open the door, he asked, “What are you doing for lunch?”
The question was stilted and rough, like he hadn’t asked that of a woman in a long time. And yet, the words caressed her spine as though he had actually reached out and touched her.
She turned back to him, one eyebrow raised, now playing the role he had hired her for. “If you’d like me to go to lunch with you, then ask.”
God, she couldn’t believe she’d actually said that. She’d sounded so…forceful. Confident. Powerful.
She fought back a laugh that threatened to bubble up.
He scowled, but he didn’t waste time. “I’ve got an hour off duty. I want to take you to lunch. Will you come?”
This time she couldn’t stop the grin stretching across her face. “Say please.” Her tone was teasing, and he rewarded her with the thing she had already come to cherish as something special, just for her. A small smile.
Warren Davis was smiling at her.
Oh, she wanted to touch him. Desperately. But she didn’t move. She kept her hands clasped tightly together and waited.
“Please, Beatrice. Please spend an hour with me.” He whispered the words, and she closed her eyes, letting the sensation of his voice wash over her. How could he make her feel like this? It was like he was making love to her, merely by speaking to
her.
Maybe it was that he’d asked like it was the most important thing in the world to him. She was so overwhelmed all she could say in response was, “Yes.” Nothing fancy, no polite language of acceptance. Just… Yes.
She wanted to be wanted for who she was. She wanted to live in every moment of her life, and not simply be another body, taking up space.
It was what she’d always wanted, but hadn’t realized until this moment.
And she wasn’t about to give it up.
* * * * *
What the fuck had he been thinking, asking Beatrice to lunch?
Warren had been going nonstop since Saturday morning. Those hours in the hospital, waiting for news from the doctor, had been rough on the entire family. Kelly had finally shown up after they’d reached her at work, and her boss had been understanding, but not too happy about losing a waitress during the Saturday morning rush. Now she was worried about getting fired on top of everything else.
At least Dad was fine, thank God. He would come home from the hospital tomorrow and needed a little extra care in the coming weeks, but nothing too intense. Still, that was why Warren couldn’t see Beatrice tonight. He’d need to help Mom get things ready at home for Dad’s return tomorrow.
Even though he wanted to see Beatrice tonight. Damn, did he ever. He’d thought about her constantly this past week, even more after Dad’s stroke, because he’d been thinking so much more about life and how short it was, and how much he didn’t want to end up leaving this world without having as much of her as he could.
He shouldn’t have asked her to lunch today, though. With his life more chaotic now than before, he had even less time to give to her. But he hadn’t been able to resist. She’d moved away from him, back there in the conference room, and he’d hated it. Somehow, he’d blurted out the invitation.
Now here they were, crowded into a corner at the Japanese noodle place down the street from the station. They were packed so close together he could smell her faint perfume over the scent of spices in the air, and it was turning him on.
Hell. Everything about her turned him on.
She leaned even closer. His dick throbbed.
“So. Did you play baseball when you were younger too?”
He turned to look at her in question, but they were so close together that when he moved his head his lips grazed her cheek. A flush went up the side of her neck, and he had to fist his hands in his lap to keep from stroking his fingers over that rosy blush.
Fuck, he had to get ahold of himself. They were in a restaurant, for chrissake, and she’d asked him something—what was it?
Oh yeah.
“I did. All four years of high school.” He’d been pretty good too. “Why do you ask?”
“Nate,” she answered, and he nodded, remembering they’d met at the batting cages while Nathan was practicing. “How is he, anyway?”
Dealing with a lot of shit a thirteen-year-old kid shouldn’t have to deal with.
But telling her that would mean opening up a lot more than he could afford to share. Instead, Warren shrugged. “He’s all right.” He looked down at his cup, full of tea he never drank, even though they poured it for him every time he came here. It was wasteful, he knew, but a part of him liked it. It felt solid, like something he could always count on.
Goddamn. He was getting philosophical about fucking tea?
Under the table, a hand cupped his knee.
Oh shit. His cock started to swell, pushing at the fabric of his pants. At a mere touch. What was she doing?
He looked around, but everyone else was eating, talking…they weren’t paying attention to the couple in the corner. Even if they were, no one could see under the table, anyway. A long black tablecloth covered them to his knees. She could jerk him off right here and no one would—
Holy hell.
Her hand had slid up, too fast for him to stop her, and was already rubbing over the ridge of his erection.
“Why did you ask me out if you don’t want to be here?” She murmured the words in his ear, while below, her hand squeezed his cock through his pants. He shuddered and stared at her, his gaze hooded, the pleasure of her touch relaxing him.
It amazed and terrified him that she could see him so clearly. His needs, his desires…
He huffed out a breath. “I do want to be here.”
“Never lie, Warren.” She was smirking, for some reason, almost as though she were laughing at some inside joke, except he didn’t know what it was.
“I’m not—” He gulped when she found his zipper and, with surprising dexterity, pulled it open with one hand. She used her free hand to take a sip of her tea, looking nonchalant and natural, like she wasn’t sliding her hand into his pants, beneath his underwear, taking hold of his cock—
“Shit, Beatrice.” He hissed out the words, trying not to let his head fall back and his tongue loll out of his mouth. He grasped for some way to retain a hold on sanity, reaching out to grab her free hand, twining his fingers through hers. Linking them together.
She stroked him up and down, with just the right amount of pressure. He shouldn’t be letting her do this. They were in public and he was an officer of the law and he was—well, he wasn’t paying her to have lunch with him. Right now, they were…together.
So much promise in that one little word.
“I know that not talking to me is your usual shtick, Warren. But we’ve already done much more than talk. So why the one-word answers? Why don’t you want to be here?” she asked again.
Damn. They had done much more than talk. And now that was all he could think about. How she’d kissed him last week and stroked him. How she looked with her legs in those sexy stockings and now…now…how was he supposed to think with her hand on him? Rubbing and squeezing him. He was so close, so—
She abruptly stopped her movements, making him whimper when her fingers left his cock as she pulled her hand away and gently zipped his pants back up.
But her other hand still held his.
“Tell me.” Her eyes bore into his, and he couldn’t look away. His erection was pulsing, desperate for release, but her command exerted an even stronger pressure.
He couldn’t deny her. He didn’t want to deny her. “It’s not that I don’t want to be here. To be with you. I shouldn’t have asked you out today, though. I can’t give you what you deserve, Beatrice. Wednesday nights are all I have.” Shit. He was practically gasping for air.
She patted his dick through his pants, and he jumped.
“And yet here we are, and it isn’t Wednesday night.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“So either you’re lying to me, even though I gave you a direct order not to lie to me…” she pressed her palm over the ridge of his almost painful erection, and he hissed in pleasurable agony, “…or you’re lying to yourself.”
What would he be lying to himself about? Especially at a time like this, when his family needed him more than ever.
And yet she was right—he didn’t only have Wednesday nights. He’d thought exactly that a couple of weeks ago. If he said no to more things and asked Kelly to pick up the slack or gave Nate more responsibility now that his nephew was older…
It was possible. He could make time for Beatrice.
But it was easier to set that boundary than to let her in to the insanity that was his life. If he opened himself up that way and spilled out all over her, there was no way he’d be able to stuff himself back inside. If she ever left him like Jen had…
He’d probably fall apart completely.
It was better this way, keeping his distance. Safer.
She pulled her hand away and unlaced her other hand from his. The feeling of loss was enough to make him grunt in protest.
“Either way, you’re lying, and that means you need to be punished.” She picked up he
r purse and rose. “I’ll see you next week.”
And before he could stop her, she was walking away, out the door and onto the sidewalk. Mother fuck. He wanted to follow her, even considered it, but he was sporting a massive hard-on. Something she must have been counting on.
Goddamn it.
He liked her so much.
Chapter Twelve
Beatrice sank down in her chair. She’d managed to keep her cool as she’d left the restaurant, but as soon as she’d turned the corner, she’d practically run all the way back to the office with the rather insane fear that Warren would follow her and tell her never mind, he didn’t want to see her next week, after all.
She’d just punished him, for goodness sake!
But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. She deserved more than non-answers and half-hearted lunch invitations.
He deserved more. He deserved to open up to someone who would listen to him and care for him. She would do that for him, and more, if he would trust her with his heart in addition to his body.
But she wouldn’t even have that in a few more weeks.
Not that she was complaining about his body…
Goodness, she was in deep.
A flash of light caught her eye, and she leaned forward on her desk to see someone had left a voicemail on her office phone. She picked up the receiver and accessed her inbox, relaxing as soon as she heard the smooth, confident voice in the message.
“Good afternoon, Beatrice. This is Michelle from Queen Dommes. It seems our Domme-in-training is unable to work tonight. Would you like to fill in for her? Call me back before five o’clock if so.”
Click. The message ended. It had been straight and to the point, and Beatrice admired Michelle’s style. But she wasn’t as certain about her answer.
Filling in for a Domme-in-training was a lot more involved than the receptionist position they’d originally discussed. Could she really make that leap?
Maybe it was a sign, Warren not being able to make it tonight.
That’s what she told herself, at least. She wasn’t ready to take full responsibility for this particular decision.
