All That I Am (Men of Monroe Book 1)

by Rachel Brookes

  His demeanor changed dramatically and he took a step toward me. “I’m neither a player nor a cheater.”

  “Good to know,” I whispered as the crisp air swirling around us felt like it turned electric.

  “You wear this to bed often?” he murmured, his fingertips softly grazing over my collarbone and pushing a loose piece of hair off my skin, as his gaze dropped to where my gown had gaped opened and my lace nightie was showing a hell of a lot of skin..

  “Yeah,” I said, breathy.

  “Fuck.” His eyes locked onto my lips and instinctively I licked them. What the hell was happening? “I look forward to seeing a lot more of them.”

  What the hell did that mean?

  “Hunt! Are you comin’ in to fix these locks, or are you just going to keep flirting with my girl out there. For fucks sake, kids these days!”

  I couldn’t stop the giggle from bursting out of my throat at Crazy John’s outburst from inside. I swear the whole street would have heard him. I needed to get inside and see what was wrong with him. The look of disappointment he shot my way wasn’t sitting well with me.

  “You better go,” I said softly. “He doesn’t usually see people before midday, so this is huge. Mammoth even. Picture worthy.”

  “You working today?”

  I shook my head.

  “Why?” he questioned.

  “I, um, don’t want to be there today. Last night freaked me out.”

  “I’ll go and change the locks during my lunch break.”

  “Ben, you don—”

  “I’m changing the locks.”

  “So freaking bossy!” I muttered, then I stepped around him and moved toward the door.

  “Sasha, one last thing before you go inside.”

  I stopped and turned back to look at him. Little did I know how much he was about to rock my world.

  “To answer your earlier question, you don’t look like a mistress. You look like a woman who would be the best kind of forever.”

  I couldn’t find a word to say.

  I just stared at him.

  And I continued staring as he stepped around me, squeezed my hand, then walked back toward Crazy John and started talking about locks.

  The scariest part wasn’t what he’d said.

  The scariest part was how it made me feel.

  10

  SASHA

  “Where’s my best friend?”

  At the sound of Missy’s voice, I wrapped the flamingo pink throw rug I’d recently brought home from Sass tighter around my shoulders, twisted on the couch, and looked toward the front door, which I obviously forgot to lock. I waited for her to appear. After Ben and Crazy John left, silence fell upon my house, and silence was something I did not need. I locked myself inside and double checked the new locks, then turned up my music loud and began cleaning my house from top to bottom. The busier the better was my motto for the day. I had endless calls to make, and on the top of the list was Missy, closely followed by a locksmith to change the locks at Sass before Ben had a chance to get there. And I desperately needed to begin ordering the new stock range for Sass, but all I wanted to do was disappear into my couch cushions and nap. Napping would be the perfect distraction from the horrendous flashbacks of dinner with Edward and the break in at Sass.

  So, I napped.

  For two hours.

  And it was amazing.

  “Why is there a pair of men’s boots on the front porch?”

  My eyes shot wide and my back straightened as I stared at Missy and let her question sink in. Men’s. Boots. Porch. What! Those damn butterflies came swarming back at a rapid pace as the memory of telling Ben I needed to buy a dog or leave a pair of boots out front to deter potential robbers hit me like a ton of bricks.

  “What did you say?” I gasped, as I slowly began to stand from the couch.

  “What is wrong with you?” she said, scrunching her brow. “There are boots on your porch.”

  I scrambled off the couch, ran to the front door, and burst through it as if I was stepping into the living room on Christmas morning, desperate to see the presents Santa left under the tree.

  There was no way he would . . .

  Yet, there they were.

  He did.

  A pair of worn, very large, black leather boots were sitting beside my welcome mat, looking like that was where they belonged and where they sat at the end of every day.

  “Oh my god!” My eyes darted between Missy and the boots as I tried to comprehend what I was seeing and what he had done. “Oh my freaking god!”

  “What? You need to start talking before you completely freak out.”

  I gave the boots one more look before I stumbled back inside in a happy yet confused daze. Was this what swooning felt like? I’d read about it in books, I’d seen it movies, and I’d witnessed it when Missy convinced herself she was in love with Connor Jackson in senior year, but me? Reluctant romantic, relationship avoider, one-night-stand expert . . . never.

  “Sasha! Seriously. What the hell is going on?”

  As if she knew I needed alcohol to settle the rampaging butterflies and the first signs of swooning, she stalked into the kitchen, pulled out champagne and orange juice from the fridge, and poured us both a very huge Mimosa each, light on the orange juice.

  “They’re Ben’s boots,” I said softly, a feeling of warmth hitting me as his name fell from my lips.

  “Ben?”

  “Hunt.”

  “Why are his bo—. Holy shit! You fucked Ben Hunt?” she shrieked, mimosa flying everywhere and her eyes shooting wide. “Talk about breaking your dick drought with the freaking best.”

  “What? No!” I laughed, although the thought of him being the one to break the drought sent heat shooting through my body before coming to rest between my thighs. “Up until this morning, I thought he had two women and was the leader of a harem. So, no, I have not had sex with him yet.”

  Yet?

  What the hell was I saying?

  “Shit, I feel like I had a mini heart attack then,” Missy gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “So, why are his boots out front? And while you are telling me about that, you might also want to tell me why the man you haven’t had sex with yet was at Sass today and then brought over a new set of keys for me to give to you.”

  He changed the locks. Just like he said he would.

  “What did he say?”

  “New keys for your girl,” she said, putting on a deep voice and pretending to be Ben. “That’s all he said. No explanation, no buying a muffin like he usually does, no ‘hi, Missy, you are looking fabulous today.’ Nothing. So, I came straight here for answers. Also, where the fuck was my phone call after your night with O’Leary? It feels like I haven’t seen you for a week, but it’s been less than twenty-four hours. You need to start talking.”

  I took a huge sip of my mimosa and nodded. How could everything that had gone down happen in such a short amount of time? Seriously, did chaos follow me around? I walked into the living room and carefully sat back down on the couch, not wanting to spill my near-overflowing glass, and I pulled the throw rug back over my lap. Missy soon joined me and turned to face me.

  “That motherfucker kissed you!” She yelled, her body tense going tense, and her face furious.

  I’d just given Missy a play by play of the disastrous dinner with Edward, including how it resulted in the worst kiss of my life. Her body language should have warned me she was going to explode when I gave her that snippet of information. I shuddered just talking about it. There was something in the way he looked at me all through dinner that made me realize my plan had backfired, and I’d possibly done the total opposite of making him back off. The unnerving feeling that I was now a game sat heavy in the pit of my stomach, and I couldn’t shake it.

  “And someone broke into Sass?”

  I nodded.

  “And you told the whole Monroe Police Department that you had wet panties?” She chuckled.

  Of course s
he’d bring that up. “I said bra!”

  “And then Ben came here this morning and changed your locks, and then went to Sass and changed the locks there too?”

  I chewed on my lip and nodded.

  Then she burst out laughing and was barely able to ask, “And you told him you weren’t a fan of orgies?”

  I groaned.

  “So he is single?” she said with a wiggle of her brows, her tone turning ridiculously suggestive. “You’re single, he’s single. He has seen your bedroom. He already has a pair of boots here. It’s pretty much fate that you two see each other naked.”

  I choked on my mimosa and shot her wide eyes.

  “The last thing on my mind is seeing him naked.”

  She smirked. “Bullshit.”

  I looked at the piece of paper on my lap then looked at the house I’d just pulled up to. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten his address so easily. Shouldn’t cops addresses be private? Maybe David was too nervous about saying no to me after bitchy Sasha came out last night and introduced herself.

  I’d spent the past two hours either pacing my living room or walking out to the porch and looking at Ben’s boots. Then I got the marvelous idea of starting payback, so I jumped in my car and went to Sass, then I loaded up a gift bag, and now I was sitting outside a gorgeous split-level home with the most beautiful front yard I’d ever seen.

  Taking a huge breath, I leaned over and grabbed my purse and the huge gift bag I’d sat on the passenger seat, then I opened the door and stepped out into the unknown. If I didn’t go now, there was every chance that I’d lose the courage to do this. But what exactly was this?

  I knocked twice on the rustic red door and then turned around and took in his front yard and street. It was the kind of street you could imagine full of kids riding their new bikes on Christmas morning or lined with cars for birthdays and celebrations. Lush, tall trees lined the street and shaded the perfectly trimmed footpath that ran in front of all the houses. What I liked the most though was that the houses were set back from the road and offered privacy from the neighbors. It was a residential street, but it had the feel of mountain living. A smile hit my lips as I focused on the huge cherry blossom tree that took up one side of his front yard. My grandparents had a tree exactly like it at their house, and I’d spent hours leaning up against the trunk reading a book.

  “Sasha?”

  I jumped and let out a small shriek at the sound of Ben’s voice behind me. Today it sounded deeper, rougher and therefore sexier than usual. Damn it. I spun around to greet him, but my words jammed in my throat, and it felt like my jaw slammed into the ground beneath me due to sight of sheer perfection standing before me.

  God-like bare chest.

  Disheveled, chocolate brown hair.

  Hooded, yet alert sea blue eyes.

  Bare chest waiting to be licked, kissed, caressed, and carved into stone so it could be treasured forever.

  Did I say bare chest?

  I picked up my jaw, reluctantly stopped myself from memorizing every inch of his tantalizing body, and refocused my attention to his highly amused yet equally curious eyes.

  “I woke you up,” I said softly. He stood before me looking like a person with all the signs of someone who’d just awoken from a nap. “I’ll come back.”

  “What are you doing here, sweetheart?” He leaned against the door frame, crossed his arms over his chest, and his eyes took a journey over my body, before narrowing back on mine and awaiting my response.

  “You left boots at my house.”

  “Yep.”

  “You went and changed my locks at Sass.”

  “Yep.”

  “Thank you,” I breathed out and gave him a small smile. I still didn’t understand where this man had come from and why he was being so damn nice to me.

  He shook his head and chuckled. “Come in, Sasha.”

  I looked at my car then back at him and thought screw it. What damage could a ten-minute visit really do? Plus, if I was being honest, I was intrigued to see what the inside of his house looked like. Would it be broody and intense like him? I stepped through the front door, clutched the bag I was holding close to my thigh, and allowed myself a minute to take in what part of his house I could see. Warm mocha colored walls with white trimmings and polished wooden floorboards welcomed me. The entry way opened up to an open plan living room that housed a dark brown leather L-shaped couch, a rustic coffee table, and a crazy big television sitting on a cabinet that matched the coffee table. Minimalistic seemed to be his style, and for someone who owned a home décor store and took great pleasure in decorating it was like being given a blank canvas.

  Simply put, what I was seeing was an oversized man cave.

  And it suited him, from what I knew, perfectly.

  “You need to visit my store more often,” I said as my head went crazy with ideas and visuals of pieces that would suit his space.

  His lips twisted into the devious smirk he’d thrown my way numerous times, and then he took off into the living room. I, however, did not move. I was temporarily stunned into submission, and my brain could only do one thing—focus on the way his sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips, allowing me to see those two dimples on his lower back.

  I was in trouble.

  “You comin’?” He glanced over his shoulder at me, and with amusement in his words, he said, “You can come and judge the rest of my house.”

  “I wasn’t judging, I was simply observing.”

  I followed him into the guts of his house and took my time to look around while I placed the gift bag and my purse on the couch. I could feel his eyes burning into me from behind, but my attention was locked onto the familiar throw rug bunched up on the couch, where I could tell by the imprint left in the cushions he’d been sleeping.

  “How’d you find out my address?”

  I spun around, breaking my trance on the throw rug, and moved toward him.

  “I called the station and David answered—”

  I didn’t even get the chance to finish before he threw back his head and his laughter saturated the room around us. It was clear that I was never going to live down my small breakdown in the waiting room of the Monroe Police Department. My hands shot to my hips and I watched him as the corners of my lips twitched in response.

  “You do realize he will always give you what you want now?” he said, still chuckling, and still bare chested. “Giving out cops’ details isn’t something that happens normally.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Was I really that bad?”

  His brows shot up and his smirk said it all.

  Shit balls.

  I’d need more than candles to say sorry to David.

  “The fact that you’re gorgeous might also have something to do with him giving you my address. But sweetheart, that sassy mouth of yours—fuck, it could make a man do just about anything.”

  I dropped my eyes to the ground to prevent him from seeing my reaction. The feelings his words brought on were the kind I didn’t allow in my life. They were the dangerous kind that gave hope to something that wouldn’t end well for anyone. If I thought his words were innocent, I’d have no problem. But my head was telling me that there was nothing innocent about Ben Hunt. I wanted so desperately to allow his words to sink in, but my walls were just too strong.

  “So, I brought you something to start repaying my debts,” I announced, deciding that I needed to get to the point of my visit and then leave. “You’ve done a crazy amount of things for me, and I need to start doing things to you. For you. Shit.”

  I lifted the gift bag with the bright pink Sass logo on the front off the couch and, with a smile, held it out to him.

  Grabbing it from me, he looked into the bag and then his eyes flashed back to me.

  “You bought me candles?” he said, humor evident in his voice.

  “Yes, and I can tell that it was a brilliant decision on my end. Everyone needs candles. Especially stubborn, intense police detectives.”<
br />
  He shook his head as he lifted out the large, fragrant-infused candles in the scents of Vanilla bean, Rainforest, Caramel Taffy, Bamboo, and Green Tea, my personal favorite.

  “Fuck me,” he hissed as the scents smacked us both in the face.

  “That’s a bit forward, Benjamin. You haven’t even taken me out on a date yet.”

  Why was I flirting?

  Abort!

  Abort!

  “Christ, you are something else.”

  It would seem flirting with him made the blue of his eyes turn sapphire. They became mesmerizing and clearly obliterated every single fear I earlier had. He said my mouth could make a man do anything—well, his eyes could make the most stubborn woman want to lose all sense of control. He was the best and worst kind of danger. I was in so much trouble. Our eyes locked, the battle of blue verses green intensifying as every second ticked over, and even as he slowly made his way toward me, we didn’t break.

  “Are you doing okay?” he asked softly, standing close to me and now staring at me intently. “You had a fucked-up night, you didn’t get much sleep, then me and John rocked up this morning and burst into your house.”

  “I’m okay.” It was part truth, part lie. Honestly, I was freaked out, but I was also resilient. “Just got a lot of stuff on my mind, but I’ll be fine.”

  “What’s that scar from?” he asked suddenly, and I jumped as his finger lightly touched the small scar just above my right eyebrow. The fact that he even found it was astonishing, because it was small and faded.

  “I fell out of a tree when I was fifteen,” I whispered, the air around us suddenly electrifying, as if it was closing in on us and cocooning us in warmth.

  My eyes dropped to his lips as they twitched with humor.

  “A tree just like the one out in front of your house.”

  Those dangerous blue eyes zoned in my lips, and there was no way I could stop the tip of my tongue from darting out and wetting my bottom lip. Heat flashed back at me, and I held my breath as he took a step and only stopped because his body collided with mine. Slowly, his face began descending toward mine, his eyes burning bright, his lips moving closer, and his heartbeat thrashing against mine.