by J. Daniels
She stands, looking down at me with confusion. “I’m not thirsty, and why am I taking a shower?”
I unlock the screen and pull up her keypad before connecting with her eyes. “Would you just do what I say for once without giving me shit first?” She blinks rapidly, stepping toward the kitchen. “Go, and don’t come out until I tell you to.”
I begin dialing the number, her footsteps trailing off behind me. The asshole under me decides to laugh and I yank his arm back, stealing his breath from him.
“Don’t fucking push me, man.”
The call connects in my ear. “Tully.”
I loosen my hold, softening his protest so I can hear more clearly. “Hey, it’s Luke. Are you patrolling right now?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I need you to come to Cherry Point apartments. Tessa was attacked.”
“What? Shit! Is she okay?”
“She’s shaken up a little, but she’s not hurt. I got here before anything happened. That’s why I was in such a rush earlier and couldn’t talk. I was trying to look up this fucker’s license plate number to get information on him.”
“Does he have priors?”
“Two domestic charges that were dropped. Look, man, he’s got drugs on him, and I may have broken his wrist, but I don’t think we need to rush getting a paramedic over here.”
He laughs into the phone. “I hear ya. What apartment number is she?”
“211. Is Jacobs with you?”
“Yeah.”
Fuck. He couldn’t be patrolling by himself tonight? I don’t need that shithead getting on my case.
“You need a new partner.”
“Yeah,” he repeats, zero humor in his voice.
We didn’t all get lucky when it came to partners, and CJ has the worst one in the unit.
“We’ll be there soon.”
I toss the phone onto the couch after he hangs up, shifting my weight in the process, and causing the prick under me to moan in discomfort.
“You can do better than that,” I say, pinning his snapped wrist between my knee and the floor.
He sucks in a breath before bellowing, “ARRGHHH STOP! STOP! SHIT!”
I ease up, feeling the sadistic smile creep onto my face before water rushes on in the distance. And then, simply because I don’t want to think about her taking a shower, I make him scream.
Drowning out my obsession.
***
Hurried footsteps alert me of company and seconds later, CJ fills the doorway of Tessa’s apartment. I look past him, locking onto the unimpressed smirk that’s permanently fixated on Jacobs’ face as he looks at me from over his partner’s shoulder.
Dick.
“Jesus, man. Is he dead?” CJ asks, stepping inside and dropping the hand he has on his gun as he surveys the body I’m crushing into the carpet.
I stand, hauling the barely conscious prick to his feet. He’d probably be more alert if I hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes trying to re-break his wrist, but something had to distract me from Tessa in the shower.
“Where’s the girl?” Jacobs asks, pulling out his cuffs as CJ takes the guy out of my hands.
I look over my shoulder in the direction of the hallway that leads to the bathroom. “Shower. She said she’ll be in there a while.” I turn back around, catching the slow shake of his head. “Something you wanna say to me?”
He smiles cunningly. “We need to question her. Tell her to get out.”
“We don’t need to question her right now,” CJ corrects him. “I’m sure Luke can relay what he saw. She’s probably too shaken up to talk to us.” Once the handcuffs are secure, he grabs Tyler by the shoulders and moves him against the wall, pushing with a firm hand to his chest. “Don’t fucking move.”
“How’d he break his wrist, Evans?”
I leer at Jacobs, and the self-important tone in his voice. “How the fuck do you think he broke his wrist? There was a struggle, asshole. He was trying to choke Tessa out when I got here, and I fucking acted. She’s Ben’s sister; or did you forget that tiny detail?”
He smiles, showing the teeth I’d love to knock out more than anything right now, as he steps closer to me. “She also dumped your ass last summer, didn’t she?”
“Shut up, Jacobs,” CJ says, stepping in between us and preventing me from moving any closer, which I unknowingly had been doing. He motions with his head toward the floor. “Is that what he had on him?”
I follow his eyes and bend down, grabbing the small plastic baggie. “Yeah. He had pot, too. Tessa said he snorted a bunch of coke before he attacked her, so I’m sure you’ll find it when you run his panels.”
“Did she take any?” Jacobs asks, looking over my shoulder in the direction of the hallway.
My jaw ticks just below my ear. “No, she didn’t.”
“Maybe I should verify that myself.”
“Go ahead. I’ll let Ben know you’re testing his sister for drugs when I call him. I’m sure he’ll be really understanding about that.”
“All right,” CJ says, pressing a hand against my chest and backing me off. He looks over his shoulder and nods toward Tyler, who is barely standing up. “Get him out of here. I’ll be down in a minute.”
After staring me down for several seconds, Jacobs moves and grabs Tyler, pulling him off the wall. “Let’s go.”
When he steps out, I sit on the arm of the couch and grab my shoulder, wincing as I move it around.
“You need to go get checked out,” CJ says, looking up at me as he picks up the bag containing one marijuana cigarette that was left on the coffee table. He seals it up and puts it in his pocket, scanning the area one last time before he moves across from me.
“I’m fine. I’m just beat.”
“You sure she’s okay?” he asks, glancing behind me.
I nod, standing. “Yeah, she’s tough. You know Tessa. Shit rolls right off her back.”
In fact, I’m sure her recovery time from this will be a hell of a lot shorter than mine. She’s practically immune to anything that would normally trigger an emotional breakdown in people.
He laughs, smiling in agreement. “All right, man. Take it easy.”
I shove the door closed behind him, hearing it crackle as it latches into the splinted doorframe, and drop my head against the wood. My body feels heavy, as if my bones have been hollowed out and filled with cement. The corner of my mouth tastes metallic, the dried blood re-liquefying with the wetness of my tongue. My shoulder burns, and my right hand doesn’t seem to flex as well as it should, but these injuries are nothing compared to the discomfort throbbing where the weakest part of me lies.
Seriously? My heart couldn’t stay out of this shit?
Strike three.
I run my fingers over the sensitive skin of my neck while the water beats down on my head. The slightest bit of pressure has me sucking in a breath, but I do it anyway, probing until I’m on the brink of crying out. Then I ease off a bit, wait a few seconds, and press down again.
At this point, I deserve to feel the pain.
I ignored the signs, and there were several, flashing in blinding neon lights with warnings about that asshole’s odd behavior. But did I listen? Did I even hesitate in the slightest when it came time to meet up with a complete stranger, and then proceed to bring him back to my place? Alone?
No, I didn’t.
My pussy was running the show, and she’s the dumbest bitch I’ve ever met.
I was so fucking dead-set on getting laid and making last summer a distant memory, I blocked out the tiny, cautionary voice in my head and nearly got myself killed. My own apprehension didn’t stop me; Luke couldn’t stop me. Hell, if anything, I was more driven to leave with Tyler after Luke voiced his opinion of the situation.
Don’t do something stupid right now.
His words fill my head as I let it hang between my shoulders, digging harder into the tender spot on my neck until a muted whimper escapes my lips. I drop my hand when I can’t
take it anymore, when my legs nearly give out and my entire body begins to tremble from the sting.
But even then, I still feel it. The pain I’ve felt during the past year remains a constant, like a fever that won’t break.
I stay in the shower for what feels like hours, only finally stepping out once all the hot water has been used. I wrap a towel around me, lifting my gaze to the mirror above my sink, and stare at my reflection.
Skin flushed, eyes tired and swollen, a shake in my hand as I raise it to wipe the water drops off my forehead. I turn away when I don’t want to look anymore, when I no longer feel any sympathy for the girl staring back at me. I open the bathroom door and peer down the hallway toward the living room, greeted only by silence.
“Luke?”
I investigate further and find an empty apartment. A tidied up empty apartment. The vacuum is out, propped against the wall, and the coffee table has been moved slightly. But other than that, everything is in order. No signs of a struggle. Nothing giving away that anything out of the ordinary happened tonight.
Except for me. I give it away.
I half expected to find Luke waiting for me so he could rip me a new one, or rub in the fact that I should’ve listened to him, but he’s gone. As is the asshole that brought him here. Maybe he’s said enough to me tonight. He’s done enough, that’s for sure. I don’t want to think about what could’ve happened if he hadn’t shown up.
I’ve never been scared like that. I’ve never felt anything even close to that kind of panic. And it had worsened with the sound of Luke screaming my name, trying to get to me.
He won’t make it, I’d thought. The fear in his voice is the last sound I’ll hear.
But it wasn’t.
I thought I was scared when I didn’t think he’d get to me in time, but that was nothing compared to what I felt when he came through the door and his eyes found mine.
That look would’ve stolen my breath, if it weren’t already being taken from me.
Luke Evans doesn’t usually show emotion like the rest of us. But in that moment, I wasn’t sure who was more terrified. Him or me.
I walk back to my bedroom and toss the damp towel onto my bed, grabbing an oversized T-shirt and a pair of panties out of my dresser. After slipping them on, I discard the towel in my hamper and start combing out my hair.
A cracking sound comes from the hallway, followed by another one—louder this time, and given the events of tonight, I go to the worse possible explanation for the noise and let it cripple me with panic.
The comb hits the floor, along with my stomach, as the noise echoes out one final time before the only sound I hear is my heavy breathing.
“Luke?” I barely choke out, moving closer to my partially opened bedroom door. “Luke, are you there?”
I hear something, the softest sound, in the distance. A jingle of keys, maybe? It gets louder as I stare at the two-inch crack in my door and find myself once again flushed with terror. I move closer, reaching for the handle as the incessant noise grows louder.
“Luke?” I whisper, seconds before the door nudges open and the reason for the noise comes barreling at me.
I break, dropping to my knees as my anxiety dissipates into the air above me. Max sniffs all over my head, rubbing his cold nose in my hair and on my face as I grab onto his neck.
“Jesus, Max. You scared the shit outta me.” I grab onto his collar, the two ID plates clinging against each other and causing the sound I was unsure of moments ago. I tilt my head as I rub the top of his, smiling when he leans into my hand. “Yeah, I missed you too.”
I stand and walk out of my room, watching as Max pushes past me and goes into my bathroom where he lays over one of my air vents. That dog has the weirdest fascination with bathrooms. Continuing down the hallway, I stop when I come up behind the couch.
Luke drops a duffle bag on the floor by the vacuum, shoves the front door closed, and locks it. He lifts his head, his eyes heavy with judgment as they fall on me.
I glance at the duffle. “What’s going on? Why is Max here?”
He runs a hand over his buzzed hair to the back of his neck where he grips it. “Your door isn’t secure. I can get it changed out tomorrow but right now, locking it doesn’t really do shit.”
“So, you’re going to spend the night?”
Good God. Can I even handle a sleepover with Luke, knowing that he’s in my apartment, and being very aware of what he isn’t wearing to bed?
He grabs his shoulder and begins massaging it, keeping his head down. “Your brother would be on my ass if he knew I let you stay here by yourself when someone could easily walk in. And you’re not staying at my house.” His hand falls to his side with a heavy sigh as his eyes lose focus.
I mask the strange hurt I feel at that reasoning, and also decide against bringing up the obvious solution to this problem—staying at my parents’ house. For some reason, going against Luke’s genius uncomfortable sleepover plan seems like an argument I should probably avoid.
“You didn’t have to do that.” I motion toward the vacuum. “I would’ve cleaned up after I…”
“It’s done,” he interjects bitterly, removing his gaze so quickly after he speaks, it’s as if he can’t stand to look at me another second.
I bite back my typical response to his asshole tendencies, knowing I owe him a lot right now, and settle for what he deserves to hear from me.
“Thank you. Not just for that. For everything tonight.”
He ignores me, popping out the chamber from the vacuum and walking past me with it into the kitchen. He holds it above the trashcan and empties the contents, grabbing the bag and tying it off before walking toward the door.
I block him, putting my body between him and his exit. “Did you hear what I said?”
He looks down at me, and his jaw twitches in the corner just below his ear before he speaks. “Yeah, I heard you.”
“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”
“No.” He steps sideways to move past me, but I move with him. His eyes find mine, flashing a warning. “Leave this alone.”
I tilt my head up, getting closer. “Leave what alone? What’s your problem? I’m trying to thank you for what you did.”
He moves into me, dropping the bag and the canister on the floor before backing me up until I’m pushed against the couch. He places a hand on either side of me, gripping the edge, preventing my escape. His head angles down and I suck in a breath, turning my head to prevent his skin from touching mine.
“Go ahead. Do it,” he growls, shifting in front of me so I’m forced to look at him. “Get on your knees and fucking thank me.”
I feel heat rush to my cheeks. “What?”
“It’s what you want, isn’t it? What this whole night was about? You were so desperate to get laid, you took home some psycho you met online, and he almost fucking killed you!”
I feign amusement, concealing the sting I feel at that insult. “The only time I was ever desperate to get laid was last summer, when I got bored and settled for you.”
His eyes darken. “The way I fucked you was never settling.”
“The way you fucked me required these afterward.” I hold up two fingers, wiggling them arrogantly.
He grabs my hand, bringing it between us, and leans in, so close that the only thing I can stare at is his mouth.
Oh, God, please back up.
“Luke,” I plea breathlessly, digging my back into the couch to try and put some space between us. He’s too close—way too fucking close right now.
“The only time those fingers touched that pussy last summer was when I made them, or when you were so fucking desperate for my cock, you’d beg me to make you come over the phone. I’m sure they’ve gotten a lot of use since me, but don’t stand there and act like I didn’t wring you out. You and I both know what it feels like when you come.”
I snatch my hand away from him. “You don’t know shit. I faked it.”
He grab
s my neck, pinning his body against mine. “Do I need to remind you?”
“Remind me of what?”
I glare up at him as I try to ignore my reaction to this conversation, and his, as it presses into me. But that determination quickly vanishes when he slides his hand to the front of my panties and cups me there. I gasp through a moan, hating myself when it goes unnoticed.
“How quickly I can make you beg?” He slides a finger over my clit. “How I can make this enough? Go ahead. Tell me again you faked it. Let’s see if you can convince me before I make you come all over my hand.” One finger becomes two, rubbing up the length of me, pressing the material of my panties into my wetness. “Say it, Tessa.”
“No,” I answer through a moan.
“No, what? No you never faked it? Or no, this isn’t enough?”
My answer comes in the form of me grinding against his hand, needing the friction. Seeking more than just this, because he’s right, on both counts. I never faked it with him, and for the past year, this hasn’t been enough.
I reach down and palm his length, causing his hand to still. “What?” I ask, finally removing my gaze from his mouth and looking into his eyes. I give him a squeeze and he twitches. “You wanna tell me you’re faking this?”
His face remains completely serious, cold even, as he grabs my hand and prevents me from stroking him through his shorts. “I’m not interested in a partial hand job.”
“Who said anything about a hand job?”
He tilts his head, an arrogant gleam in his eye. “If you’re referring to actually finishing me off this time, that’s one thing. But if you’re talking about me fucking you, then you better think real hard about it.”
“But I don’t want to think. I want to do.”
“Tessa,” he warns. “I mean it. I will not have my cock buried deep inside you and have you tell me this isn’t what you want.”
I grip him harder, and his hold on me tightens. “Maybe you should just put your dick in my mouth, Luke. That way I can’t say anything at all.”
He grabs me, spinning me around until he’s pinning my front against the couch. His lips brush against my ear while his hands slide around my waist. “Maybe I should. That smartass mouth looks best when it’s wrapped around me.” Another brush against my clit has me arching into his touch. “You want more than this?”
