Chapter Twenty-Five
Mike was having one of the worst days of his life. Okay, not true. Dying in a horrifying car crash topped the list, but still… His head hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, thanks to underestimating his guest’s desire to escape. And now this.
He glared at the detective’s retreating back. The idiot didn’t deserve Jules. He didn’t understand her at all. She was sweet, sensitive, innocent. A goddess on a pedestal. Not an easy lay on a Saturday afternoon.
But she cared about him.
Mike had seen it in her eyes. Something that gave him hope. And broke his heart. She was letting him go, moving on with her life.
He wanted her to be happy, but with a cop? That had late nights and endless worry written all over it. What’s the matter with an accountant or a lawyer, Jules?
Someone who wasn’t going to leave her and the boys to fend for themselves. The way he had.
The cop softly knocked on the washroom door and rested his forehead on the wood. Mike’s shoulders eased. The guy was into her, and it was more than just attraction. Mike could almost see the waves of regret rolling off his back. Maybe he did get her, after all.
The door opened and Jules stood on the threshold, her face pale and streaked with tears. The cop said a few words, reached out and brushed her cheek with his thumb, then gently tugged her into his arms.
Uncomfortable with the intimacy, as he hadn’t been with their kissing, Mike zapped himself out of there.
He landed near the Transition House and cursed when he saw Lucas rising from the steps.
“Don’t start with me, man. It’s a bad time.”
Lucas snorted. “Is there ever a good time for you, Monk?”
Mike ignored the jab. Lord knows why pretty boy decided to call him such a stupid name. “What are you doing here. Shouldn’t you be off saving lives, or something?”
Lucas grinned. “Not without you, buddy. We’re a team, remember?”
How could he forget? The Lord, in all his wisdom, had stuck the two of them together after the accident, the transgressor and the victim. A match made in Heaven.
“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled. Then it struck him, why was Lucas being nice? The last time they saw each other, they’d damn near come to blows. “What’s going on? Why are you so cheerful?”
Lucas clapped him on the back and steered him toward the house. “No reason. I just figured if you can’t beat ‘em, join them, right? You’ll tell me where Natalya is when you’re ready, and me pissing you off isn’t going to help with that.” They trudged up the stairs together and Lucas waved him in first. “Think of it as turning over a new leaf.”
Mike opened his mouth to impart a snarky comeback, but froze when he saw who awaited them inside.
“My Lord,” he murmured, his soul filling with a mix of awe and shame. How was he going to explain his abduction of the girl to his Savior?
“Enter, my child. It has been too long.” He sat on the sofa in front of the very fireplace where Natalya had fallen and bumped her head all those months ago. His snowy white robes flowed loosely around him, a foil for the long Santa Claus beard and shoulder-length hair. Startling blue eyes regarded him with nothing but warmth and compassion, ramping up his guilt to near claustrophobic proportions.
“Make room for your brother,” the Lord said in his smooth baritone.
Mike glared over his shoulder, but Lucas just shrugged, obviously as surprised by their company as he was. They trudged into the room and took up a post on either end of the fireplace. Mike crossed his arms, then dropped them to his sides, uncomfortable under Father’s knowing gaze.
“Does this visit mean we’re finally moving on from this pit?” Lucas, ever the mouthpiece, was the first to speak.
The Lord’s quiet stare was enough to make him hang his head. “Forgive me, Sire.”
“You’re an idiot,” Mike said.
Lucas snorted. “Takes one to know one, doesn’t it?”
Fire flared between them, the sparks angrily leaping from the hearth.
“Enough.” The Savior’s tone wasn’t loud, but still it shouted his condemnation into the room.
Mike sank to his knees, overwhelmed. Why did he always let Lucas get to him?
“I thought you two would learn to get past your differences.” Father said, his expression ripe with disappointment. “To forgive one another.”
Mike glanced at Lucas, prayed that he’d keep his mouth shut about Natalya. “We’re working on it.”
“Well, you’ll have another opportunity,” Father said. “You will soon be called upon to help the people you care about on earth.” His radiant blue gaze traveled from Lucas to Mike. “You will have to work together or bear the consequences. There’s only one way to the other side, my children.” He held out aged hands, hands that carried the weight of the world. “You must learn to love one another. For without love, there is no hope.”
A ray of such warmth and light radiated from the Lord’s hand into Mike’s his vision blurred. Chest swelling with emotion, his mind filled with images of his family.
Please God, let them stay safe.
Chapter Twenty-Six
An earthquake could have hit the island and it wouldn’t have caused as much upheaval as Julie was feeling at this moment. She rested her cheek against the cool porcelain of the bathtub and closed her aching eyes. Her throat hurt from fighting to hold back the emotions ripping their way up her esophagus. The last thing she needed was Connor coming to check on her.
As if he heard her silent plea, a knock came on the door and his voice pleaded, “Let me in, baby. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” It was silent for a moment and Julie held her breath, hoping he’d leave. But of course he didn’t. “Please, honey.”
Giving in to the inevitable, she rose and turned on the tap, keeping her gaze on the sink and the water going down the drain. Sighing, she bowed her head and rinsed her face, then let the coolness pour over her wrists. He deserved an explanation, she just didn’t know what she was going to say. “Oh sorry, I thought you were my husband.” Somehow, she didn’t think that would be well-received. And besides, it wasn’t true.
There was no mistaking Connor for anyone except himself. And that was the problem. For the first time in over a decade she was attracted to another man and wasn’t sure how to handle her feelings.
When some of her hard-won composure returned, Julie turned off the water, dried her hands, and strode to the door. She grasped the handle, but couldn’t quite bring herself to let him in yet.
“You must think I’m an idiot,” she murmured.
His voice was warm, coaxing. “Then we can be idiots together. I’m sorry, Julie. I need my head examined. I’d never do anything to knowingly hurt you. You know that, right?”
She leaned her forehead on the smooth wood. “You didn’t hurt me,” she whispered.
There was a rough sigh from the other side. “Good. I was afraid I’d scared you away.”
Slowly, she eased the door open. Connor stood in the frame, one lean forearm resting near her head. He looked at her as though searching for answers she couldn’t give, then his mouth ticked up in a near-smile.
“Hi,” he said.
Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings. The man was devastatingly handsome. She couldn’t believe he didn’t have a bevy of beauties lined up waiting for his attention. Or maybe he did. The thought repelled and then she immediately kicked herself. She wasn’t ready to step up to the plate, but lo and behold anyone who was. She shook her head, amused.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, his head tipping quizzically.
Before she thought better of it, Julie reached up and brushed that stubborn lock of auburn hair, her fingers lingering to massage the lines from his brow. She lost herself in the liquid depths of his eyes, shades of blue-gray like the softest of spring rains.
“Julie…”
“Shh,” she whispered. “Just let me…”
She leaned forward and
teased his lips with hers. Light, feathery kisses designed to tantalize. Taste. Torment.
He groaned, low in his chest, and the vibration sent goosebumps of desire rippling across her skin. The kisses grew deeper, more passionate. Tongues and teeth vied for position. He took over, his body pressing her back against the door. His hand captured both of hers and pinned them above her head. His knee between her legs and the friction of his thigh frustrated even as it excited.
He left her lips and she moaned, a cry that turned into gasps of pleasure when his tongue found her breast. She tugged on her hands, wanting, needing to touch him. To drive him as crazy as he was driving her. He released her to glide down to the hem of her shirt, then hesitated. Waited for her response.
A warm surge moved through her chest. He cared about her. This wasn’t just some quick lay, filled with a morning after of regrets. What was happening between them was new—fresh. It had nothing to do with the past. They were both single, healthy adults. Who happened to have the hots for each other.
She reached down and with one quick tug, the t-shirt came off, leaving her bare from the waist up except for the hot flush suffusing her chest. A sudden case of embarrassment had her covering her breasts with her hands.
Connor’s gaze warmed her further, the heated appraisal a benediction for her battered ego. It was a long time since a man looked at her that way. Mike had loved her body, but with two kids, a mortgage, and an ever-growing stack of bills, their love-life had often gone by the wayside.
Connor nibbled her fingers, scattering her thoughts like confetti. She stared at his dark head and something dangerous moved within her breast. This man could hurt her. He was driven, at times arrogant and bossy, but she’d seen his concern after his partner was hurt and the anger and regret for the women who had been murdered. He genuinely cared about the people under his watch.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his lips nibbling her jaw.
She smiled. “How far it is to the bedroom.”
That got his attention.
He lifted her chin and searched her eyes. “Are you sure? We don’t have to go any further.” His gaze moved down her body and turned wry. “I’ll survive—somehow.”
“I’m a woman, we change our minds. Do you want to stay or not, O’Rourke?”
Before she could second guess, he ducked and lifted her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, his hand across her thighs holding her in place. “Which way?”
She snorted and ran her hands down his broad, muscled back. “Time’s wasting. You’re the detective, I’m sure you can figure it out.”
He smirked and patted her bottom. She screeched and laughed, more light-hearted than she’d been in a very long time.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee brought Julie out of a deep sleep. She lay sprawled across her queen-sized bed, the covers helter-skelter except for the throw that normally resided on the wide ledge under the window. Connor must have covered her before he left the room.
Connor.
She closed her eyes, stretched like a well-fed cat, and buried her nose in the pillow that still smelled of him. Her body hadn’t been her own last night. How else to account for this delicious ache between her thighs? The tender abrasions on her neck and breasts? And if he offered, she’d do it again. In a heartbeat.
A surprised laugh bubbled up her throat. She had never considered herself a wanton, but O’Rourke definitely knew his way around a woman’s body. He’d done things that made her even now shiver with delight.
Maybe this was just what she needed—an affair with a nice, safe guy. A man who had no entanglements written all over him. That way she couldn’t get hurt, and neither would he. It was all fun and games. At least until her kids came home.
Sobering, she climbed out from under the blanket and raced for the bathroom. It was one thing to think about an affair, and another for him to see her naked. She knocked lightly and was relieved to find the room empty. He must be in the kitchen then—or maybe he’d left.
Her stomach dropped. No, he wouldn’t leave without a word. Would he?
She hesitated on the threshold, debating whether to call his name or not, then squared her shoulders and climbed into the shower. If he had left, it was fine. They had no commitment, he could do what he wanted.
Her skin burned with a mixture of hurt and embarrassment. She stood under the cleansing spray and let the sponge drop to the floor of the tub. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t have sex without caring about the other person, and caring led to… other things. She wasn’t ready to move in that direction, maybe she’d never be ready. Mike had occupied such a large place in her heart for so very many years, how could she consider shoving him aside now?
She tipped shampoo into her palm and rubbed her hands together to build up suds before applying it to her hair. She should get it cut. Mike had always urged her to keep it long, he’d liked running his fingers through the strands, but she preferred it shorter, easier to care for.
The therapist had warned her to take her time, everyone approached the grieving process differently. She understood that. Dustin had treated it with anger, Freddy with confusion. Mike’s parents still went to the graveyard every Sunday and laid bouquets of his favorite tiger lilies in front of the gravestone. Julie had gone also, at first. But the more the Crenshaws tried to make peace with his loss—and baby Ava, buried with her daddy at that cement marker, the further away Julie wanted to run. That wasn’t her family under six feet of black topsoil. Her husband was no doubt fishing the streams dry in Heaven while Ava made daisy necklaces on the bank. That’s the way she wanted to picture them. Much as she loved being close to both sets of parents, she had decided to leave the past behind. It was just her and the boys now, and slowly but surely they were learning to function as a family again.
She tipped her head and let the water sluice the soap away along with her doubts. She was overthinking—again. If Connor was willing, an affair was just what the doctor ordered. It was time she set the grief aside and began to enjoy life again.
The door opened behind her and she smiled. And what better way than with a little water sports?
Connor opened the shower stall and almost swallowed his tongue. Julie had a black rose tattooed on her hip. It was a stark contrast to the alabaster skin on her butt and the smooth line of her slender back. She reminded him of Eve in the Garden of Eden. Beautiful. Impossible to resist. And when she glanced over her shoulder with those golden-brown eyes, he was drawn into her web, a willing captive.
“I made coffee,” he murmured, and picked up an oval bar of soap to glide over her back; shoulder to shoulder, neck to waist, with a little extra attention spent on that intriguing tattoo.
“Mmm,” she hummed. His dick leaped in response. “I smelled that. You’re very… resourceful, detective.”
He was totally onboard with that appraisal. There were things he could do with a bar of soap that a marketing company could make a fortune with for the right audience. He planned on perfecting his technique on a couple of those maneuvers today.
He moved closer, nibbling her neck while the soap did a slip and slide over a hip to explore the womanly curve of her stomach before bumping its way up her ribcage to the swell of her breast.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze intent on the ever-narrowing circle he was creating in his quest to reach her nipple. It was dusky rose, a perfect match for lips opened in a little ooh that told him better than any spoken word how much he affected her. He loved her sensuality, and marveled that she didn’t know how attractive she was. In many ways she seemed innocent, untouched, and yet—their time together last night had blown his mind.
Her hand moved to cover her breast and he nudged it aside. “Don’t. I want to look at you.” He turned her around so that he could better see her face. “Am I going too fast for you?” God, he hoped not. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off.
She sho
ok her head and met his gaze with a trace of embarrassment. “My body isn’t a twenty-year-old’s anymore. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”
His heart clenched. Is that what she thought?
Her gorgeous eyes stared at him, and the water beading along the lashes made them appear dipped in stardust. The faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose invited kisses, and the downy softness of her cheeks begged his touch.
No, she wasn’t twenty. She was a woman with a siren’s body. One that called to him with a song he couldn’t resist.
“Do I look disappointed?” He invited her to see the effect she had on him.
One glance and her cheeks turned rosy. Her fingers hovered, and his breath backed up his throat.
“May I?” she asked, peeping up at him through those wet lashes.
“God, yes,” he said, choking.
The hesitant touch of her fingers was the single most erotic sensation he’d ever felt. His hands clenched as she explored his length.
Teasing.
Provocative.
Soul destroying.
He fought against the overwhelming need to beg—and then she sank to her knees and he lost his mind.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
He awoke with a crick in his neck and the sun burning a hole in his eyelids. He sat up and pawed at the visor, cursing. Still blurry-eyed, he glared at the house down the street.
She’d let the bastard spend the night, the whore.
An old lady walked toward him dragging a yappy Chihuahua by the leash. She slowed and stared suspiciously, probably because his windows were half fogged from being closed up all night. He turned the key to auxiliary, rolled his window down, and spit on the sidewalk.
That got her moving. She gave him a death-ray glare and tugged her pooch to the other side of the street.
He grinned, but the smile disappeared when his gaze resettled on the house. It was tempting to light the thing on fire and watch them burn, but that would only give him a momentary pleasure, it wasn’t enough. He needed her to see his face, fear what he planned to do to her—and the screams. That was the part he liked the most. Their cries proved he was the boss, superior to them in every goddamn way.
The Beast Within: Mended Souls #2 Page 11
