He didn’t.
As if we’d been lovers for years, he pulled me against his chest and snuggled right in.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” he whispered.
“Thank you.” An elephant made a lounge chair of my chest. Worry seeped through the sex haze invading my brain. I didn’t know if Jacob had any family nearby. Was anyone with him at the hospital? We talked almost daily, but I knew little about his personal life. Our conversations had centered around me, and he had always changed the subject when I did any digging.
Shit. Did I know anything other than he was a widower and retired bookstore owner? I rarely entered his apartment. When I did, it was only to wait inside the front door.
“I have to see how Jacob is. What hospital did they take him to?” I asked, ashamed that I’d been so wrapped up in my own selfish bliss that I hadn’t checked on him.
Franklin sighed. “He’s in good hands. We’ll call first thing in the morning, okay?”
I lay down and Franklin pulled me back into his safe embrace. How had I ever slept without the comfort of his arms?
“What are we doing, Franklin?” I asked, hoping to hide my insecurity.
“Spooning.”
I laughed. That word did not belong in his vocabulary. It was too fluffy for his deep voice and daunting physical form.
“Come on, I’m trying to be serious,” I huffed. “This isn’t me. I don’t do hook-ups. I don’t do one night stands.”
He squeezed me tight. “I know, Tate. I know that’s not who you are. Do you feel safe right now?”
“Yes.” I did, physically and emotionally.
“Then that’s what we’re doing. Tonight, I’m keeping you safe.”
That was good enough for me.
Chapter 6
Wallace cackled and flashed his five-hundred-dollar shade-of-white smile at the waitress. Miss Bleach Blonde bent to whisper something in his ear and nearly spilled her saline-stuffed double-D’s over his shoulder in the process.
I watched from my perch across the street. He slid a hand up the back of her thigh and rested it below her left butt cheek. He thought no one would notice, but I did. I also witnessed the dark blush spread across her face.
Poor little fool.
I wiped sweat from my brow, aimed, and pulled the trigger. “Eat lead, asshole,” I whispered.
Dead on.
The bullet entered above his right eyebrow and embedded itself in the cement column directly behind him. The waitress screamed and dove to the ground. I stood, held the muzzle to my lips, and blew the smoke away.
“Good shootin’, sugar.” A hearty gentleman patted me on the back as he passed.
“Thanks. I’ve been practicing.” I smiled and twirled the small pistol around my index finger before tucking it back into the holster strapped to my right hip.
Morning came too soon. I rubbed my eyes open, took in the unfamiliar surroundings and wrestled a surge of panic. My bearings took a few minutes to catch up with me. Mr. Reed was nowhere to be found, and empty frigidness hovered where his body should’ve been. Was last night a dream?
I gathered my clothes and made the walk of shame to my bedroom. I needed a long hot soak in the tub.
No. Coffee, then a good scrub.
Uh-uh. Shower first. There might be a super sexy stud waiting for me. I’d rather jump out the window than greet him with morning hair or breath. How could I face him at all? How could I share an office space with him after last night?
I took my time. Let the hot water soothe aching muscles, tense from the stress of finding Jacob nearly dead and sore from the exertion of the mind-blowing orgasm. Jeez, I’d never have to work out if I kept Franklin around.
I was about to turn off the water when the shower door slid open, then closed. A heavy hand splayed across my abdomen, yanking my rear against an erection that begged for attention. A sharp nip on my ear and hot breath on my neck set my skin ablaze.
“Fuck, I can’t keep my hands off you,” he groaned, and pulled me tighter against him, roping one arm around my waist and the other across my breasts. Instinctively I arched, savoring the weight of his arm on my chest and the evidence of his arousal on my backside.
“Then don’t,” I managed to utter.
Franklin trailed kisses across my jaw, down my neck, and across my shoulder. With adept hands, he massaged my breasts, rolled the peaks between his fingers, rubbed his hardened sex across the slickness of my butt.
“Last night was torture,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. I turned to find him staring down at me, his desire radiant through heavy lids. “All I could think about was ravishing you.” His tongue rolled across his bottom lip and a crooked smile, full of hellfire, made an appearance just before he crushed his mouth to mine.
It dangled on the verge of painful, the way he claimed me, stole my breath, crushed our bodies together. My blood, my skin burned. I kissed him back. Hard. Hungry. Greedy. I was a lucky girl. For one more moment, this beautiful creature was mine. This beast of a man could eat me alive, and I would let him. No more worrying about tomorrow. I wanted more of him. However I could get it.
He kissed me until my lips ached, then moved to my chest and worshipped my breasts with fervent discipline. I moaned when he drew a nipple into his mouth and sucked. He groaned in response.
Blood pounded through my body with a thunderous intensity. My insides throbbed, clenched, begged for mercy. As if attuned to my need, he plunged two fingers deep between my legs, found my entrance and penetrated me. He pulled them out, massaged between my legs, and slid them back in.
“You’re so tight. So fucking perfect.”
Franklin knelt, guided my leg over his shoulder, and with master skill, worked me into a carnal frenzy. With his fingers deep inside me, Franklin Reed did things with his mouth I didn’t know were possible. I came with such intense shudders, my leg collapsed beneath me.
Solid arms held me steady until my brain and muscles reconnected. He helped me stand and pinned me to the wall, clasping my hands above my head. I was sure he could read the shock on my face when he pushed his erection between my legs, grazing the sensitive tissue he’d just ravished.
Lips lowered to mine, he asked, “Trust me?”
Like I had a choice. No way was I strong enough to fight him off if I didn’t. No way did I want him to stop whatever he had planned. I was no longer in my own head. My body and brain had disconnected. I was a puppet and Franklin pulled the strings.
He kissed the corner of my mouth, then moved to whisper in my ear. “I can’t wait to bury myself in you. Claim every bit of that sweet pussy and make it mine. Fill you until there’s absolutely nothing between us.” He forced his erection deeper between my legs. I ground my pubic bone against the thickness. I couldn’t stop myself. The friction triggered ripples of pleasure and I wanted more.
Letting go of my arms, he clenched my hips and thrust hard, over and over. Each time, grinding against me. He was fucking me. Fucking the fleshy meat between my thighs. It was so damned erotic, another orgasm already threatened to tear me apart. When he came, when his semen dripped down my legs, I bit my lip and buried my face in his chest, to keep from screaming out with the force of my own release.
* * * *
I was left alone to finish my shower. The man rocked my world, then strutted away, naked, wet, and oozing confidence. He returned moments later wearing jeans, beads of water across his chest, and a daunting glare.
“I’ve got something to take care of. I grabbed your keys. I’ll lock the door behind me.” He paused and raked my body from top to bottom with a sharp, haunted perusal. It chilled me, even under the hot water.
“I won’t be gone long. Promise me, you won’t go anywhere or open the door for anyone.” His forearm rippled as he tightened his grip on the shower door. God, the muscles that man sported. What a freakin’ turn-on.
“Um, ok.” I made a face. “Bossy, much?”
&nbs
p; Franklin didn’t appreciate my snarky remark. His Adam’s apple protruded, jaw tightened, brows pinched.
“Tatum. Promise me.”
“No problem.” Nothing to worry about. Jacob was the only one who ever knocked on my door. Him and the pizza delivery guy. Pretty sure neither of them would come by for a Sunday morning chit-chat.
He turned to leave, paused at the door, shook his head, then disappeared around the corner.
I wasn’t sure what to make of his mood shift. Reminded me of my father. Dad was the most loving, mild-mannered guy I’d ever known. But when it came to my safety, the gentle giant could crank up the protective dial to raging beast mode.
I emerged from the shower, wrinkled and rubber-legged. I threw on some mascara and lip gloss, fluffed my dark blond hair, and dug my favorite jeans from the dryer.
A hot pot of coffee awaited me on the kitchen counter next to a half finished cup. Black. It was darker than what I was used to but smelled divine. I paused before pouring cream into my mug and pictured Franklin in all his naked glory. No room for half-n-half in a body that physically fit—that void of fat.
I grabbed an apple and headed for the balcony. A cool breeze greeted me when I stepped outside. The sun made an honorable attempt to emerge from the fluffy billows of gray hanging in the sky. The usual hustle and bustle of Alki Beach on a Sunday morning was well underway, street and foot traffic already thick. A few brave, hardcore beach lovers stretched on oversized towels on the sand.
I loved my home. My view. Safety had never been a concern.
Until my neighbor and dear friend was brutally attacked.
Life could turn on a dime. My happy-go-lucky outlook? Yeah, that changed too. I used to study people in awe and wonderment. Now, I scrutinized each character. Sized them up. Judged by appearances which ones were most likely to commit heinous crimes. It sucked. It sucked bad.
I didn’t want to people-watch anymore.
I was about to go back inside when a figure caught my eye. Dark gray hoodie, dark sweats, aviator glasses.
Holy shit.
The man jogged along the footpath, stopped to tie his shoe, lifted his head, and looked directly at me. Was it my imagination again? He stared for a long time, then raised his hand and waved.
I froze, teeth half sunken in my fruit.
His wave morphed into a pointed finger. Then a fake pistol. He shot his fake pistol. At me.
Blood drained from my head and congealed in my feet. I couldn’t move.
He stood, then jogged away in the direction he’d come.
I screamed like a horror movie victim when something squeezed my shoulder.
Driven by pure adrenaline, acting on impulse, I whirled around and rammed my apple between Franklin’s baby blues.
Faster than I could process what’d happened, I was on the floor. Franklin had straddled me and I’d been completely decommissioned. Again, I found myself unable to move. Pinned to the floor, wrists bound, legs immobilized, lungs emptied.
“Fuck, Tate. What the hell?” He wiped apple mush from his face. He wasn’t out of breath, yet I couldn’t find mine.
“Hoodie man.” I pushed the words out between gasps for precious oxygen. “He was outside.”
Franklin was on his feet and peering over the balcony in a heartbeat. “Where? Which way?” He turned to look at me but I still couldn’t breathe.
As quick as he’d sent me to the floor, he pulled me to my feet. Damn, the man moved fast.
Blood managed to find its way back to my head. Thoughts cleared.
I punched hard at his chest. “Are you a damn ninja? Jeez, Franklin. You can’t sneak up on people like that!”
“I’m sorry, didn’t you hear me come in?” He shot me a stupefied glance.
“What was that?” I gestured to the floor. “You could’ve killed me.” I patted myself from chest to buttocks, in search of injury. Found nothing.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, irritated and snappy.
“No,” I grunted. “So not the point.”
“Exactly the point. You weren’t hurt.”
Bastard. Where did he learn to move like that? “I think it was him. He looked right at me, then pointed his finger like a gun.”
“Shit. Are you sure?” Hands fisting and stretching at his sides, he strode to the kitchen. I followed.
“No.” Shoulders slumped, I shook my head. “Maybe it was my imagination.” Or the fact that he’d fried my brain beyond repair with his fine tongue skills earlier.
“Come here,” I ordered. I wet a towel and wiped the sticky mess from his handsome face. “I’m sorry. Just jumpy I guess.” With a shrug, I tossed the cloth into the sink and brushed a finger across the wrinkles between his brows.
“Think it’s gonna bruise?” His sensual drawl coated my ears, soothed my raw nerves. “Killer reflexes you got there.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry.” A purple bump already marred his face. Not big, just enough to be a reminder of the skirmish. “How you gonna explain this at work?”
I gasped when his lips hovered above mine and his arm encircled my waist.
“I’ll tell them my girlfriend is abusive, but the sex is so hot, I can’t bring myself to leave her.”
Girlfriend? Why did that word, coming from his mouth, make me want to put on a princess dress and twirl around the kitchen?
* * * *
By noon, my doors sported brand new, state-of-the-art hardware, and three bulky men, dressed in light blue poplin shirts with Rogue Security logos, invaded every square inch of my home to perform last minute adjustments on the surveillance cameras they’d installed. Not one of them spoke more than two words to me. Franklin barked commands and they obeyed—all business, all stealth. Barely shot me a glance when they finally left. What kind of pull did Franklin carry to get these men to work on a Sunday?
“So that’s where you went? Shopping? This is a bit over the top, don’t you think?” I passed him a turkey sandwich and a bowl of fruit salad. “You should’ve asked me first. I don’t need a security system. There are cameras throughout the building, a doorman, and a secured entryway.”
Franklin rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, shook his head, and rolled his shoulders. “The program this building uses is a joke. A moron could get through or bypass it altogether. A woman living alone in this city can never be too careful.”
“I’m not helpless.”
“Didn’t say you were.” His smirk, although devilishly sexy, got under my skin. Something was off with him. “Just said you can never be too careful. This is the same one I use at my place.”
“I didn’t see any cameras in your apartment.” Why would he need security? He lived in the Georgetown neighborhood. Not the safest place to be, but it was mostly industrial, not considered a high crime area. Who’d break in? The apartment was barren aside from his flat screen.
“You won’t see any here when I’m finished.” He pulled turkey from between the white bread and popped it in his mouth.
“How do you know this stuff?” I asked. Why did he feel the need to force it down my throat?
He didn’t look at me, but his jaw clenched and he swallowed hard. “The shit I know would blow your mind.” The wrinkles in his forehead deepened.
“I don’t know anything about you, Mr. Reed. Besides the fact you are obscenely gorgeous and way too smart to work for Wallace Cruse. Seriously. What’s your deal?” I was half joking.
He wasn’t.
He responded with an icy glare. He wasn’t going to answer me, but he contemplated the idea. I could see it on his face. Damn, his eyes cut through me like swords. Distracting as hell.
“Where’s your computer? I need to connect you to the system. Your cell, too, so you can keep tabs from anywhere.”
He changed the subject again. I wanted to bang my fist on the table and demand his life story. Instead, I crossed my arms and slouched in my seat. “Is this necessary?” Had the spi
rit of my overprotective, overbearing, dead father possessed Franklin’s body?
A loud buzz came from his left butt cheek. With a grunt, he grabbed his phone from his pocket, headed towards the balcony, stopped short, then stomped out the front door.
Feeling ten levels of irritated, I tossed his half-eaten lunch in the trash and headed for the guest bedroom. I tried to make myself useful while Mr. Moody Pants took care of yet another call meant for nobody’s ears but his. Unleashing my frustrations on the bedding, I tossed pillows on the floor and stripped the mattress with dramatic flair.
The private calls were beginning to unnerve me. What was he hiding? What was I not supposed to hear? It wasn’t any of my business. I held no rights to him or his private life. We’d spent the last twenty-four hours together, and he disappeared every time his phone buzzed.
I wasn’t getting the warm and fuzzies I’d expected after doing the things we did in my shower. On my bed. His couch.
Oh crap. Just thinking about it made me weak in the knees.
I bundled up the sheets and comforter and tripped over Franklin’s duffel. My foot got caught in the damned handle, and I crashed to the floor with a loud thud. My knees took the brunt of the fall. The bedding protected my face from some serious carpet burn. Thank goodness, no one was around to witness my lack of grace. I untangled my foot from his duffel strap and crammed the spilled contents back into the bag. Thank the sweet heavens above, he wasn’t there to witness my shameful act of rummaging through his private property.
What did I hope to find? Hadn’t a clue. The opportunity presented itself. Who was I to deny fate, even if it was a result of my own clumsiness?
I found nothing out of the ordinary. Toiletries, bottle of Gendarme, few changes of clothes. It smelled of him. Warm, fresh, and all male. I was about to shove the bag back under the bed when something caught my eye, laying in the corner of the room next to the jeans I’d tried to rip off him last night. A wallet-sized picture of me and Jacob. The black-and-white image was fuzzy, like it’d been taken from a considerable distance. I was laughing in the photo. He’d probably told me one of his goofy jokes. We were in the cafe down the street, enjoying a cup of coffee.
How to Kill Your Boss Page 5
