by Lola StVil
“Okay, we’ve been on each other’s mind. Let’s start there. Deal?” I ask.
“Deal,” she says as she begins to eat. We spend a few moments in comfortable silence, the kind that comes when people have known each other for years.
“Alright, Agent Hunter, tell me more about your four brothers,” she says.
“They all own townhomes in New York City and all of them are in law enforcement.”
“All of you?” she says.
“Yeah, in one way or another. Also, I’m the best-looking one. And I’m my mom’s favorite. No matter what the others say.”
“Naturally,” she says with a smile. “All of them are cops? Is that a good thing?” she asks.
“Most of the time. But there are moments when my mom threatens to disown us because one of us didn’t call to let her know we’re okay.”
“That poor woman; she must worry about you and your brothers all the time.”
“It’s a hobby of hers. But while worry is a hobby, ‘guilt’ is her full-time occupation.”
“Leave her alone; she has a right to worry about you guys.”
“We try to manage her fears—you know, check in if we can. But don’t feel too bad for her. That crafty old lady knows how to use our guilt to her advantage. She’s a master at it. My brother Logan was on assignment, and he was held captive for days, they tortured him and nearly killed him, but he wouldn’t talk. That’s how my bothers are. Hard as fuck. Never say die. Yet, one long sigh from Mom and we give in to anything she wants. When we call her out on it, she says ‘Just know that I always use my powers for good and not evil.’”
Sky laughs and says, “Your mom sounds like a real badass.”
“She’s a tough old lady. My dad is as tall as a mountain and even more intimidating, and I’ve seen her handle him with a slight tilt of her head.”
“Do you think she can give me lessons on how to handle you?” she teases.
“Is that what you want—to handle me?” I ask. That’s when she realizes what she actually said, and her eyes widen in surprise, and her cheeks turn crimson. She grins and puts her face in her hands. I take her hand and gently pull it away from her face.
“There, that’s better. I hate being kept from your eyes. I’ve never seen anything like them,” I admit. She bites her lower lip and looks away.
“You’re hiding again,” I point out.
“Sorry,” she says, finally making eye contact again.
“It’s okay.”
“You were saying—all your brothers are cops.”
“Some in more official ways than others. Our family grew up with a fair amount of money, thanks to my grandfather. But Grandpa hated the thought of any of us being handed things and not earning it. So he raised my mom to be self-sufficient and to find a way to be of service. My mom then drilled that into us, as did my dad. They thought they’d get doctors or legal aid lawyers. And we disappointed her big time.”
“I’m sure she’s proud of you guys.”
“She brags about us to her friends, but in person, she reminds us how long it took to give birth to us, and by the way, every time she tells the story, she adds more hours to it. In fact, if you let her tell it, she was in labor with me for two years.”
Sky laughs and places her hand on top of mine. Her touch warms me all over. Christ, I gotta talk to someone about this. Is this how my brothers felt when they met their wives?
Wives? Holy. Shit.
Okay, Cash, steady.
I ask her if she wants me to get some wine from downstairs and she says she’d rather have whiskey. “I did not see that coming,” I admit as I quickly head down the steps to grab a bottle of whiskey. When I get back, I stand in the doorway of the rooftop, watching her.
Cash, don’t fuck this up.
I walk over to her and place two glasses before her. I pour one for each of us. She sips it slowly and tells me how good it tastes. I can’t taste the whiskey on my tongue because I’m too busy watching her lips and wondering what they taste like. I try to stop thinking about her lips because I know that will only make it harder to focus.
“I like Kenzy. She seems nice,” I offer.
“Yes, she’s something else. I daydream about being like her, you know…wild and unpredictable. In fact, it was my birthday a little while ago, and I vowed to try new things. Kenzy is always stepping out of her comfort zone, so I think it’s time I did too.”
“Oh, and what new things have you done?”
“I’ll tell you, but you can’t make fun of me.”
“Sorry, not gonna happen,” I reply.
“Argh! Fine, I’ll tell you anyway since you provided the food and the atmosphere. Since my birthday, I took a tap dancing class and learned that I have no rhythm whatsoever. I took a beekeeping class—don’t judge me. It was a Groupon.”
I press my lips together in an attempt to suppress my laughter. “Anything else?”
“Go ahead and laugh,” she says, and I do. She’s so damn goofy and adorable.
“I also went to my first—never mind,” she says.
“Oh no, you have to spill, you went to your first…”
“My first passion party.”
I clear my throat and lean back. I know passion parties because my sister-in-law Shelby has thrown a few. It’s where women get together, hang out, drink, and buy various sex toys that the host of the party came to showcase. I want to know what, if anything, she left the party with, but I tread carefully.
“So…passion party?” I ask.
“Yeah, do you know what that is?”
“Yeah, I do.” I smile and gulp down the whiskey in one shot. I pour us both another. “So, did you end up buying anything at the party?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“One thing,” she says with a small smile. Then she cruelly changes the subject. “The food was really great; you made a good choice,” she says. She’s teasing me. She knows damn well that I want to know what she bought. Damn her!
“So, you did buy something?” I push.
“Um…yeah. It’s funny because it’s such a small little thing but it has such an important job to do.” She sips more whiskey and then says, “Anyway, I should definitely take a menu with me…”
I groan and let my head hit the glass table. She laughs at me and runs her hands through my hair. That feels way better than it should. I lift my head up and suddenly the fun, light air is thick with unspoken thoughts. She goes to take her hand away; I stop her. I place her hand in mine. I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss the inside of her palm. Her pupils dilate, and her cheeks are flushed. She slips her hand away from mine and opens one of the bottles of water on the table. She drinks most of it in one gulp.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m good. Next month I’d like to try skydiving but I’m not sure I will actually take the class. I might chicken out,” she says. It’s clear she’s stepping back. That’s not the direction I want to go in, but okay, I can deal. I hope.
“I’ve jumped out of a few planes, and it gets old after a while,” I reply.
“You jumped—for fun?”
“A few times for fun but mostly for work. It was either catch a bullet or jump, so I jumped.”
“See, you have lived such an action-packed life. That’s what I need to do.”
“No, you don’t. You have a life. You have a good one at that. You’re a good girl,” I reply sadly as I shake my head and turn away.
“Why do you say it like that?” she asks.
“Like what?”
“Like it’s a bad thing.”
“No, it’s not. I’m just saying you’re way too good a person. I don’t trust that,” I joke.
“No, I’m not,” she swears.
“Sky, you take care of your elderly neighbor, you teach five-year-olds, and you feel bad for would-be killers. Next thing I know, you’re gonna tell me you read to the blind,” I reply, shaking my head. She drops her eyes and looks away.
“Please tell me you don’t read to the blind.” I laugh in disbelief as I drop my head into my hands.
“I do—but I’m not very good at it. I always forget where I left off and I don’t have good breath control,” she says in her defense.
“You really are a genuinely good girl,” I say, mostly to myself.
“Trust me, I’m not. Last month I was assigned to read The Great Gatsby, and instead I read them The Shining. And every single member of my group had to be sedated. And a few weeks before that, while the other volunteers were reading Pride and Prejudice, my group was ten chapters into Fifty Shades of Grey. Also, I was once asked to fill in for the ‘Intro to Tech’ class, and well…some of the residents may or may not have profiles on Find-an-Inmate-2-love.com.”
“Oh, so you’re not helping the blind and elderly. You’re corrupting them,” I conclude.
“Well…yes,” she admits with a laugh. She then bites down on her lower lip. My heart skips.
“Honestly, it’s not a big deal,” she continues. “My parents died in a car accident, leaving just me and my sister, Stacy. Our grandparents raised us. When they got too old to care for us, they were forced to go to a nursing home. And my sister and I visited all the time. But while they had us, so many of the other residents had no one. That always felt wrong to me. It’s one thing to grow old, that’s a part of life. But why should anyone do it alone?” she reasons.
I’m not sure what’s hitting me hardest—her humanity or the way she fills out that skirt. All I know is that I want to close the gap between us more than I’ve ever wanted anything else. I try to contain myself. I run through all the reasons why I should leave this amazing woman alone, but it’s not working anymore. None of my tricks for staying away are working.
She sips the last of her drink, walks to the edge of the roof, and looks out. I follow her because I can’t think when she’s not next to me.
What. The. Fuck?
I stand behind her, only inches away. I tower over her. Her scent pulls me in, and a stray hair falls to the nape of her neck. I brush it away. When my fingers make contact with her skin, she shivers slightly. I feel her body grow stiff and alert. I drop my eyes and gaze at her ass. Fucking perfect. Desire grips me and makes it impossible to stay away any longer. I place my hands on her hips, and her breathing quickens. I know she feels me behind her—I’m harder than granite.
“Turn around,” I whisper in her ear. She’s scared. I know; I can feel her tense up.
“I need to kiss you. Right now,” I tell her. Her breathing quickens yet again.
“Do you want to kiss me?” I ask, trying to manage the desire coursing through my veins. She swallows hard and nods.
“Then turn around.”
“No more than a kiss. Just a kiss,” she says.
“I would never take more from you than you’re willing to give.”
“That’s just it. I want to give you everything. I want you, Cash. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone else in my entire life. And it scares me because I don’t know if I can trust you yet. So yes, please kiss me. But don’t let me do any more than that. Can I trust you to stop me?”
“Why? Why stop?” I beg.
“Because you’re special. We’re…special. I don’t want you to be my first one-night stand. And I don’t want to be another one on your list. Cash, promise me we’ll stop after the kiss.”
“I promise. Now, turn around, baby.” She turns to face me, her eyes dark with desire. I place my hands on either side of her face and claim her lips with mine. I knew I would love the feel of her lips on mine but had no fucking idea it would feel this good. Her seeking and delicious tongue coils around mine, creating a current of lust that grips us.
“Christ,” I growl as I pull her further into me. We kiss with the heat of a five-alarm fire. My tongue travels down the nape of her neck; she moans and drops her head back. She arches her back, pushing her cleavage out towards me. I can make out her hardening nipples beneath her blouse. I have detailed plans for those nipples. I need to catch the fabric of her bra between my teeth and pull it down, freeing her ample, ripe breasts. Then as the cool city air hits her distended pink peaks, I’ll warm them up with my mouth and knead them with my tongue. I’m about to go for her blouse.
The fervor and frenzy build up in my cock. I’m lost in her. Nothing, not a goddamn thing, could pull me away from her.
“Cash, promise me we’ll stop after the kiss. Promise me.”
FUUUUUUUUCK!
She wants to keep going; I can tell by the way her body is melting into mine. I know she’s wet because she’s squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to mitigate the sensations surging between her legs.
That doesn’t matter. I have to stop. God help me, how do I stop?
I grit my teeth and force myself to I pull away from her. I can forgive myself for a lot of shit, but I couldn’t forgive myself if I went back on my word. I don’t care how fucking hard I am; I won’t break my promise—not to her. Not to my Sky.
“Kenzy, if you don’t stop screaming, the neighbors are gonna call the cops!” I warn her as I tug on her shirt and try to get her off my sofa. I knew that telling her about my night with Cash would excite her, but now, there’s a good chance I’ll have to have her sedated. She finally stops jumping on the sofa and sits back down. She folds her legs under her and rubs her hands together like an evil villain in a bad 1920’s movie.
“Okay, take me back to the beginning. I need to hear it again,” she pleads.
“Kenzy, I already told you everything—twice!” I remind her as I fold my laundry. She yanks the shirt I’m holding and forces me to sit down beside her.
“Excuse me, but laundry can wait. And as long as there is a Target store nearby, laundry can wait forever. Now, tell me again.” I shake my head and recount my night with Cash.
“I can’t believe he pulled away, that’s so fucking hot!”
“Yeah, but at the time I wanted to throttle him,” I admit.
“Um, yeah. I would have stabbed him for pulling away from a kiss that good. And it was good, wasn’t it?” she asks eagerly. I can feel my face getting hot. I’ve flashed back to that kiss way too many times since last night. It was by far the best kiss I’ve ever had. It sent sparks to the tips of my toes and up through my body. It means the world to me that he kept his promise, but at the same time, I would have given anything to have more of him.
“It was a spectacular kiss,” I admit.
“And now what?” she pushes.
“I don’t know. I just know that I enjoyed myself. I think he did too.”
“You think?” she says, dripping with sarcasm. I laugh at her silly expression. But soon my smile fades, and I begin to drift off in thought.
“Hey, you! Do not do that! Don’t go all in your head and find a way to ruin something good by overthinking,” Kenzy warns.
“I’m not overthinking.”
“Yeah, and I’m not sexy and fun to be with,” she teases. I roll my eyes and smile at my best friend. She studies me.
“Sky, you really like this guy, don’t you?”
I shrug and mumble a quick, “Yeah, I guess.”
She comes ridiculously close to my face. “Oh my God, you’re really into this guy!”
“What? No!”
“Yes! You only use your casual I-don’t-care tone when you care about something so much you’re afraid saying it will somehow make it go away,” she says, awaiting my reply. I avoid eye contact. She places her hands on her hips and takes a stance that lets me know she is not about to let the subject drop.
“Okay, okay. Fine. I’m kind of, sort of…maybe…into him.”
She’s beaming as she reaches out and hugs me.
“Kenzy, I’m not sure about any of this.”
“Here we go. You plan to analyze this to death, don’t you?” she scolds.
“I have to,” I counter.
“No, Sky, you don’t!” she insists.
“Yeah, I do. I can’t
just jump into something without looking at it from every possible angle.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because the last time I jumped without looking, I landed on my face,” I remind her.
“Okay, okay. I get it, Sky; I do. But you can go slow and still enjoy the ride. I don’t think he’s gonna pressure you to move faster than you’re comfortable with. I mean, the guy pulled away even though he knew he was bound for ‘blue ball’ city and was destined to be the mayor.”
“It’s not him,” I mutter more to myself than Kenzy.
“What do you mean?” she says as she forces me to make eye contact with her.
“I was with Josh for two years, and I never felt a tenth of what I feel when Cash enters the room. Josh really hurt me, Kenz. You know that. And if I am falling harder for this guy than I did for Josh, what the hell is that fall going to be like?”
“You might not fall, Sky,” she says, placing her hand in mine.
“All I know is that while last night was amazing, it was also…terrifying.”
“Why?”
“Because for the first time since Josh, I lost control.”
***
It’s Saturday afternoon and I’m scared that Cash will call me. I can’t predict how I’ll react when I hear his voice. But the only thing that I fear more than him calling me is him not calling me. Yeah I know; it’s stupid.
I need a distraction from thinking about him. I’m not a damn teenager. I’m a grown woman, and I can focus on more adult activities. I do more laundry and then vacuum my living room. I clean the bathroom, kitchen, and bedroom. I even organize my closet.
I’ll say one thing—regardless of how things turn out, my apartment has never been this damn clean.
While I’m cleaning, he does pop into my head a few times, and by that, I mean over a dozen times. I think about calling him or even sending a quick text. In the end, I decide on a text. I have written thirty-page papers, but it turns out, a one-line text is too hard. In the end, I scrap the whole idea. But I can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t called.
ARGH! Don’t do that! Don’t be that girl.
