Heart in Wire

by R. L. Griffin

  “You sure?” he asked. “Last chance.”

  She answered by squeezing his dick harder.

  He crashed his lips to hers, his hands going everywhere. Not breaking their connection, Patrick turned the key in the lock with his left hand and pushed the door open. He guided her into the foyer, peeling off her suit jacket at the same time. He threw it on the floor and moved through the foyer and into the den, which was the first room they reached. They were still connected when he pushed her up against the couch, but he didn’t lay her down. He turned her around so she was facing away from him and pushed up her skirt from behind, kneeling down and gently tugging her black lace thong down her legs. Then he bent her over and set out to make her scream his name for the first time that night.

  Her heels were the only things she was wearing an hour and three orgasms later. They’d finally made it to his room and Patrick lay on his back with his arm over his eyes, exhausted.

  “I need water,” Marly said breathlessly. She trailed her fingertips around his bandage on his abdomen. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

  He moaned at her touch. “Only in the best way possible.”

  She pushed herself off the bed, but he grabbed her arm.

  “I need water too,” he agreed and pushed himself off the bed. “I’ll go get it.”

  He sauntered into the kitchen and had grabbed two bottles of water out of the fridge when he felt her heat behind him. She couldn’t be ready again…Fuck. He turned and gave her the bottle of water.

  “This has been really fun,” she said, grazing her fingertips up and down his bicep.

  Marly put the bottle to her lips and drank half the bottle in one gulp. A little of the water dripped and rolled down her neck onto her breasts. He couldn’t stop staring at it. He wanted to lick the water off her breast and as he bent down to do just that, she pushed him against the fridge.

  Patrick leaned back against the fridge, at attention once again. Damn. Marly put her bottle down and stood there in front of him. She laid her hands on his chest and they looked into each other’s eyes, which was difficult because her naked was a sight to behold. She was missing some of the makeup she’d been wearing before and her heels were off now, her hair disheveled from their romp, but he thought she was even more beautiful this way. Her eyes showed an innocence that her actions defied. Without her red lipstick, her lips were light pink and swollen from his kisses. He began to pull her to him and she resisted. Her breasts moved as she took a step back.

  “Do you like what you see?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice was hoarse from their earlier activities.

  She slowly got down on her knees. “Now, you may want to hold on,” she said, her voice sweet as molasses as she took him in her mouth.

  OH MY SHIT.

  He and Marly sat on opposite ends of the couch with their plates on their laps. She’d just made him the most incredible omelet. They were quiet, but it was an easy quiet, like they’d known each other a lot longer than a few months as coworkers. Patrick was surprisingly comfortable for the morning after—he certainly wasn’t rushing her out the door. She sipped her coffee in his white oxford shirt and nothing else. He couldn’t stop looking at her. She was sexy as hell, and intelligent too. He was lost in his thoughts when she kicked him with her bare foot.

  “Where are you?” she asked with a tilt to her head.

  “Just wondering if you’re real,” he answered softly and put another bite of omelet in his mouth.

  She chuckled and it sounded like bells tinkling. “You mean if I’m married or hiding something or want to move in with you immediately?”

  “Something like that,” Patrick admitted.

  Marly pushed her food around her plate mindlessly. “I’m actually pretty normal.”

  “Tell me.” He turned to face her, stretching his legs out on the couch and trapping her with them, his back against the arm of the couch.

  “Tell you what?” Marly matched his movements and now faced him, legs straight out but sandwiched by his.

  Fuck. She wasn’t wearing underwear.

  “Everything.”

  She chewed her food, contemplating. “Everything, huh?”

  He nodded. Patrick liked the feel of her next to him. Her voice had a slow, rhythmic melody to it that could only be found in the south; he could sit there all morning just listening to her talk.

  “I’m from Louisiana. My full name is Marveille Lacee Bellefontaine.”

  “That’s a mouthful.”

  “Yeah, you can say that. My older brother called me Marly and it stuck, thank God.”

  “What else?” Patrick leaned back, interested.

  “Hmmmm…what else?” Marly put her plate on the floor in front of the couch. Turning back to him, she put her left foot on the inside of his boxer-covered thigh, then pulled both legs into her chest and hugged her arms around them. “I went to LSU for undergrad, then to Tulane for law school. I was going to be an environmental lawyer. Save the world.”

  “You sort of do, you know…save the world.”

  “Ugh, taking this job was like a slap to my daddy’s face. He didn’t want me anywhere near this world.”

  “What does your father do?”

  “He’s the District Attorney of Orleans Parish right now.”

  Patrick was shocked, but he didn’t know why. He didn’t know her at all; he didn’t know why her story was different than what he’d imagined.

  “He wanted me to join him and my brother in private practice. I thought he was going to have a heart attack when I interviewed with the ATF.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m the youngest and a girl.”

  “Well, I guess I understand that,” Patrick said. He was protective of his little sister, so he figured multiply that by a million for a daughter, especially one that looked like a pin up girl… Yep, he could definitely see himself going a little berserk over his baby girl interviewing with the dangerous, man-filled ATF.

  “And…” Marly looked at Patrick in a way he couldn’t decipher, but it was like she was trying to decide if she could trust him.

  He ran his hand up her calf and squeezed gently, hopefully conveying that he was listening, that she could tell him. He hoped she trusted him.

  She smiled and looked down at her knees. “My mom was killed a few years ago, when I was in law school. He’s very protective.”

  Patrick nodded, now fully understanding. He squeezed her leg again, feeling for her and hoping to ease some of her pain, and left his hand there in case she wanted to hold it.

  “That’s when he handed the reins of the firm to my brother and ran for DA.”

  “Did they catch who ever did it?”

  Marly tucked a loose blonde wave behind her ear and shook her head.

  “What happened?” he asked, not certain if he wanted to know.

  She sighed and it looked like she sat up straighter. “My mother was fantastic. She started a program after Katrina where she’d distribute food and water and blankets to those that needed it,” she explained, a huge, proud smile on her face. “Sometimes it took her into the rougher neighborhoods of New Orleans. Most of the time she had someone travelling with her, but Hank was sick and she went by herself without telling anyone. When my father didn’t hear from her, he did a GPS locate on her phone and he found her, shot to death on the side of the road. Someone left her on the side of the road like a piece of trash.” She shook her head like she was trying to shake away the memory. “They did recover her car, but they haven’t found her murderer yet.”

  At the word “murderer,” Patrick’s insides turned cold. He was a murderer. He would always be a murderer now.

  “Pretty heavy for omelets, right?” Marly cocked her head to the side and popped the last bite of egg in her mouth.

  Patrick took a bite of his food, too, mulling over what she said. He looked at his hands, one with a fork, the other holding his plate, the hands that killed Jamie. “No,” he answered simply
. “I’m sorry.”

  “What about you, Patrick Greer from DC, what’s your story? No one is really from DC.” She lightened her voice and smiled, seemingly trying to change the subject.

  “You know, you don’t have to do that…pretend to be okay.”

  “Oh, I’m far from okay, but I’ve found it hurts less every single time I talk about it. It still hurts, but I’ve learned to live with it.”

  They looked at each other, examining the lines of each other faces, the bags under their eyes. After a few seconds of just gazing at her, he realized he wanted to know more about her, which was a feeling he hadn’t had in a very long time.

  “I’m from Savannah originally, went to UGA for undergrad. Then I headed to DC as soon as I graduated to be an ATF agent. I just moved down here a couple of months ago.”

  “That’s it, Patrick Greer? No drama, no horrid story like mine?”

  Patrick grimaced. “Nope, pretty drama free,” he answered.

  He was a liar.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  FIRST DATE, THIRD BASE

  It was after six when Patrick strolled down the hall, just getting back from a day in the field. He and another agent made contacts with the licensed dealers that were working with them on a sting operation; it took all day to hit all of their contacts. The operation was set to go down for the next two weeks, hopefully ending in several arrests.

  He stopped at Marly’s door. Her back was to him and she was typing away at the computer, listening to music. Her desk was covered in files and papers. Patrick couldn’t see anything but paper, he could barely see the top of her head. She’d been covered up with work for the last couple of weeks, preparing for a trial that would hopefully send some big gun runners in the south to prison for a long time. She had a pin stuck in her hair, keeping it secured and out of her face.

  He leaned against the frame of the door and watched her, smiling to himself as she began to hum softly. He cleared his throat and she jumped out of her seat at the noise.

  “Oh shit, you scared me!” Marly put her hand to her chest.

  “Sorry.” Patrick grinned. “Why so jumpy?”

  Marly sat back down, but could barely see him over the piles of files on her desk, so she stood up again. “I don’t know, I guess I was just absorbed in what I was doing.”

  Patrick took a few steps into her office. “What are you doing?”

  “Reading through the CI’s deposition.”

  Patrick was interested; reading through a confidential informant’s deposition would be very interesting. “Good read?”

  “Very.” She smiled, taking in his black uniform. “You just get in?”

  “Yes. So listen, I know you’re busy, but…” Patrick shifted his weight from his left to right foot uncomfortably. He didn’t know why in the hell he was nervous, they’d already slept together, for Christ’s sake. “I would like to take you on a date.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yeah, really.” Patrick looked toward the door to make sure they were alone. “I want to get to know you.”

  “Oh, I think you know me pretty well,” she countered with a smirk. She was wearing a tight, straight red dress that hugged her curves, and red lipstick. He’d like that lipstick to be somewhere he couldn’t mention at work.

  “No, I mean what’s your favorite movie and your pet peeves and that kind of shit.”

  “Oh, okay. Like a real first date.” Marly sat down, pulled out her phone, and started scrolling through her calendar. “I can do Friday.”

  Patrick’s mouth dropped open inadvertently. “I was hoping to take you to dinner tonight.”

  “Sorry,” she patted the files on her desk, “me and these files will be very busy tonight and every night until Friday.”

  He stared at her for 30 seconds before he turned on his heel and left.

  Patrick pulled his car into the empty parking garage outside his office and looked up at all the dark windows. As he made his way to the building, he struggled getting his key card out with all the shit he was carrying.

  He nodded at Rick, the office security guard. “What’s up, man?”

  “Not much, late night?”

  “Something like that,” Patrick said as he hit the button to call the elevator.

  When he got out of the elevator, he passed his key card over the lock and made his way down the hallway, where the only light in the office glowed from the end of the hall.

  He walked into Marly’s office. “So, I brought dinner. I hope you like Greek food.”

  She spun around in her chair and looked at him with confusion.

  “I wanted to have dinner with you and so I’m having dinner with you,” he said simply.

  Marly stood up and walked over to where he was standing in the doorway with the bags of food. She reached up and pulled his face down to meet her much shorter self since she’d kicked off her heels. Her lips were tender and soft as she kissed him and he couldn’t help leaning into the kiss, wanting more. Marly opened her mouth, letting him in, and circled her hands behind his neck. His hands were full and he fought the urge to throw the bags down and push her up against the wall. She pulled back, gazing at him, their faces just inches apart.

  “I’m starving,” she said as she walked to the door and closed it. Then she slid down the wall and patted the floor right next to her for Patrick to sit.

  Patrick sat carefully and started pulling out all the food from the bags.

  “You went to Kyma?” she asked with delight.

  “I did. This is a date and I’m trying to impress you.” Patrick smiled at her. He pulled out three different types of spreads with grilled pitas, squash chips, calamari, sautéed scallops, papoutsakia, and lamb chops.

  Marly’s eyes widened at the sight of all the food. “My mouth is watering just looking at all of this. Which is mine?”

  He shrugged. “I thought we’d share.”

  “What if I don’t want to share?”

  “Sharing is caring,” he joked.

  “Not when it’s something I want all to myself,” she countered, then grabbed a pita and swirled it in melitzanosalata. She popped it in her mouth and groaned in delight. “This is delicious.”

  He leaned in and licked the corner of her mouth. “Yes, it is.”

  She laughed, dipped the next pita in hummus, and raised it to his lips. Patrick never took his eyes off her as he opened his mouth and took a bite of the bread. Marly’s legs were out in front of her, crossed at the ankles as they leaned against the wall, feeding each other the wonderful food Patrick had brought.

  “You know…” Patrick started as he ran his hand up her thigh and past the hem of her dress. “This food is good, but I’d rather have my mouth on you.”

  Marly smacked his arm. “This is our first date! I don’t do that on a first date.”

  “Oh really?” His eyebrows rose in question.

  “Really. I’m a lady.” She popped a piece of calamari into her mouth, which was now missing all of her lipstick.

  “I would say you’re the best kind of lady. Now, tell me first date stuff. I already know you’re an amazing kisser, and you’re even better at other things that aren’t first date material. You’re obsessed with the Saints and you love heels. Give me more.”

  “More?”

  He nodded, waiting.

  “My best friend is a girl I met in preschool, we’ve been friends since then. She’s still in New Orleans, but we communicate in some manner every single day. I have 50 pairs of heels. I also have 43 baseball hats. I get one wherever I go, it’s sort of my thing.”

  “What kind of hats?”

  “Either football or baseball teams of the city I’m in, unless there isn’t a team. Then just whatever one I like.”

  “What else?”

  “I was engaged once, but it didn’t work out…”

  “Why not?”

  “We outgrew each other, I guess.” She shrugged and took a sip from the can of soda he’d brought them.
<
br />   “When did you outgrow each other?” Patrick asked, interested. He wondered if they were both trying to move past people who shredded their heart.

  “Two years ago. We’re still friends. He’s a paralegal at my brother’s firm.”

  “Really? Still friends?”

  “Yes.” She leaned her back against the wall after stretching forward to grab a scallop. “It was extremely hard for us both at the time, but we’d known each other forever and when I moved to Atlanta, we just knew it wouldn’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re nosy,” she said with a laugh. “I really think it boiled down to an ego thing to be honest, Patrick. He couldn’t handle that I made more money than him and I had more ambition.”

  “Hmm,” Patrick said. “Well, his loss is my amazing gain.” He leaned over and pulled out the only box still left in the bag.

  “Whatcha got there?” Marly asked, wiping her mouth demurely with her napkin.

  “Greek donuts.”

  “Ah, the perfect ending to the perfect date.”

  “Perfect ending, huh?”

  “Yes.” She popped a round donut in her mouth and closed her eyes, savoring the taste.

  “I was hoping the perfect ending would be you in my bed.” Patrick leaned in and ran his tongue behind her ear so he could hear her breath hitch as he hoped it would.

  “Ugh, I wish, but like I told you, I’m a lady.” She opened her eyes and they gazed at each other.

  Patrick ran his hand up the inside of her thigh again and then pulled it gently, separating it from her other leg so he could have access to her, all the while looking into her eyes. “Well, if you’re sure about that, I’m going to at least get to third base on this date,” he said as he moved the thin fabric away and plunged his finger into her. “I mean, if that’s okay with your ladylike sensibilities.”

  Her knees spread unconsciously and he smiled and then got on his knees, straddling her right leg. He leaned in and kissed her parted lips. She let his tongue tangle with hers as he worked his hand furiously under her dress.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered.

  He worked harder, deeper, his tongue and his hand working in tandem to make her heart rate speed up and her breath go raspy. She ground herself against his fingers, greedily wanting more.