“Jesus, I’m getting hot just watching you think about kissing him.” I snort at her before I continue, “It was the best kiss of my life. If kissing him is that hot, I can’t wait to know what sex is like with him.”
Elle gasps, covering her mouth, her brown eyes comically large above her hand. She slowly lowers her arm, resting her hand on the table. “Who are you and where is my prudish best friend?” I whack her in the arm.
“Shut up, I’m not a prude. There’s a difference between being a prude and being choosy. Just because I’ve only slept with two other guys doesn’t mean I don’t like sex or think about it.”
“Wow, you must really like this guy if you’re thinking about sleeping with him already.” I laugh. “Will he be meeting the family soon?” She teases.
I look down at my paper and avoid her eyes because I would like that, but there’s only my brother, Bryan, and he and I aren’t close. I can’t really remember what he was like before my parents died. He’d already moved away to college by the time I attended junior high and when he’d come home we hardly spoke. Now I feel like we’ve never really gotten to know the adult versions of each other. God knows I’ve tried, but you can’t hold a conversation with a living wall. I’m much closer with his wife, Sharon, and I think she would really like Kyle.
“I think we can hold off on meeting the family for now and when he and I do sleep together, there will be nothing ugly about it. It’s going to be hot as hell.”
I have some reservations about dating him. I’m worried once he’s done with me I may never be the same. What does a guy like him want with a girl like me?
“He’s a lot older and more experienced than I am, but I really like him. I’m just worried I won’t be exciting enough for him. I shouldn’t be thinking about this anyway, we just met. I’m only going on my second date with him in two more days.” When he called me yesterday and we set up a date for this coming Wednesday night, I was pleasantly surprised.
I don’t want to be one of those girls who makes more out of a situation than it is. We’ve seen each other a few times and only one of those times was planned. I think it’s a little too soon to start thinking about the future. I know it’s not like I’m picking out china patterns or naming our kids, but in this situation, I think taking things one day at a time might be best thing to do. There’s so much I don’t know about Kyle, he’s a wild card and I don’t know where he and I will end up.
“Just go slow, Jam. Don’t let him rush you into anything you’re not ready for.” She pushes back her chair and stands, putting her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you later, I’m meeting our hunky neighbor now and you should stop worrying. Everything will be fine.” She blows me a kiss and I wave before she turns to walk away.
I’m so lost in my thoughts of Kyle and our date the other night that I’m not getting much studying done. I’m in my last semester of college, but I’m not home free yet. I want to finish strong and honor my parents’ memory. I want them to be proud of me, but I know they would be, no matter what I chose to do with my life. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t miss them and wish for one more hour with them.
Thinking about the two of them always stirs up memories of David, my high school boyfriend and first love, who also perished in the fire. It was mid-July, the summer before our freshman year of college at Boston University and we’d been together for two years. We had so many plans for our future together. I know most high school sweethearts don’t last, but I think we would’ve been fine. We were each other’s first for all things and we were also best friends.
God, I loved that boy.
Most days I still think of him in some small way and since his death I’ve never opened myself up to the possibility of falling in love again. Losing David devastated me, I never want to go through anything as painful again. I barely survived it and if it hadn’t been for the distraction of college and meeting Elle, I wouldn’t have.
* * *
“How’s your week been so far?” Kyle asks, his large feet keeping time with my smaller ones, while we stroll along. He picked me up for our date right on time and we decided to walk to a popular local restaurant, only a couple of blocks from my apartment. The weather has been unseasonably mild for March, but the air still has the perfect amount of chill to it. The weight of Kyle’s arm around my shoulders is keeping me comfortably warm and I love the way it feels to be pressed against his side.
“Not bad. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.” I tip my head back and look up at him waiting to see him react to what I said. The honesty of my answer surprises me. This is not something I would normally say on a second date. I usually keep how I’m really feeling to myself. It’s all part of my need to keep guys at arm’s length. Something about Kyle makes me want to open up with him.
“I couldn’t wait to see you tonight,” he says, smiling down at me as he playfully runs the tip of his index finger down the length of my nose.
I take in his short dark hair and the dark stubble he has. He shaved since the last time I saw him, revealing his chiseled jaw, but he’s still as undeniably attractive as I remembered. David is the last guy I felt this way about. I don’t really like to compare back then with now. David and I were just kids and now, I’m a grown woman capable of taking care of myself.
After dinner, we walked to a bar about a block further away from my apartment. It’s a small hole in the wall Elle, Josh and I frequent from time to time so I know Sam, the bartender on duty.
“Hey beautiful, where have you been hiding yourself? It’s been way too long since I’ve seen you.” His greeting is loud and boisterous, like his personality and his size. There’s nothing quiet about Sam and I can’t stop my face from breaking into a huge smile. He leans over the bar to kiss my cheek and Kyle’s grip on my arm tightens.
I wonder if he’s the jealous type. I’m not a flirtatious girl in general so it shouldn’t be a problem, but I don’t want some control freak who gets pissed every time I speak to another guy.
“Hey, Sam. I’ve been busy with school. I’ve got to keep the grades up. I want you to meet my friend, Kyle. Kyle this is Sam my favorite bartender.”
They briefly shake hands before we sit down on the bar stools.
“What do you want to drink?” Kyle asks while he helps me remove my jacket. He places it on the vacant seat next to him before adding his own.
“I’d love a mojito.”
His hand softly caresses up and down the length of my back. “I’ll take a bottle of Heineken.” He nods toward Sam.
I watch Sam grab the rum for my mojito while I work on summoning the courage to ask him some of the questions I’m dying to know the answers to.
Here goes nothing.
“You said you used to be a cop. How come you aren’t anymore?” I bite on my lip to stop myself from apologizing for my question. If he gets upset because I’ve asked him then I’ll know he’s not ready to talk about it.
Sam places our drinks down in front of us and winks at me before he walks away. I raise my glass, taking my first sip of the cool, minty drink. It’s so delicious my eyes close while I savor the taste on my tongue.
Kyle takes a long pull of his beer and licks his lips. “Three years ago, I got shot in the line of duty and I couldn’t get clearance from my doctor to go back to work.”
A sharp gasp leaves me. Holy shit. He was shot.
“I didn’t want a desk job at the station. It would’ve been too difficult to know what’s going on and not be able to be there helping out when shit breaks down.” He looks down at the beer bottle he’s twisting between his palms on the bar. “My buddy, Derek, wanted to start a private investigation business and I had some money to invest. We became partners and, as they say, the rest is history.”
“Where were you shot?” I ask him, carefully observing his reaction.
He winces at the question making me wonder about the details. “In the head.”
My mouth drops open at his answ
er. I’m in complete shock.
His eyes slide to mine. “I’m sure you’re wondering how someone survives a gunshot to the head.”
I nod my head in agreement, my eyes wide.
He rhythmically taps his index finger on his bottle and stares at the green colored glass. “Most don’t survive it, but somehow I got lucky and the bullet missed all the vital parts of my brain. The doctors put me in a medically induced coma for two weeks and once I woke up and was stable enough to be moved, I went to a rehab facility. I spent about twelve weeks total in the hospital and in rehab. I had to re-learn how to do a lot of day to day things. One side was affected more than the other. It was a relief when I finally got to go home. I lost some of my memory and there are some after effects from the injury. I get excruciating headaches, I have short term memory issues and mood swings, just to name a few.”
His eyes raise to mine and they’re clouded and troubled. I don’t know him well, but I do know sharing all of this can’t be easy for him.
I find myself leaning toward him as I place my hand on his forearm, hoping to offer him some comfort. “I’m so sorry you went through all of that, Kyle. What a horrible time it must have been for you and Kenna. Do you want to tell me what happened the day you got shot or do you want to save it for another time?” I nervously chew on my bottom lip and wait for him to answer. I don’t want to push him to say more than he’s comfortable with, but I’d like to know the details.
He tips back his bottle and my eyes are drawn to the strong line of his neck as I watch his throat move as he swallows down the remainder of his beer. I slide my hand down his arm to squeeze his fingers in encouragement. I sit there silently waiting for him to say something. He takes my hand, lifting it to his head and presses down on my fingers until I can feel the spot where he was shot. I fight the urge to recoil or shudder at the dent like feel of his scar.
He lowers our hands and keeps them connected when he rests them on my leg. “My partner and I got a domestic call from an address we had been to a handful of times before. It was a seemingly nice middle-aged couple with a husband who would get a little too loud when he drank excessively. They were always surprised to see us and would immediately quiet down without hesitation, apologizing repeatedly as we walked out the door. This time was different.” He pulls his hand out from under mine and runs his fingers through his short hair.
He flags Sam down for another beer and waits until he can take a few sips before continuing. “We knocked on the door and the wife answered hysterically with blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. When she stepped back to let us inside I noticed movement out of my periphery and turned to see what it was. By the time it registered that her husband had a gun aimed at her, there wasn’t time to draw my own weapon. I pushed her to the side and the bullet hit me instead. I don’t remember anything after until I woke up in the hospital two weeks later.”
“What happened to the man who shot you?” I ask before I take another sip of my mojito.
“My partner fatally shot him.”
* * *
I’ve never wanted to be Elle more than in this moment. She would know how to act—she would know what to say—she would know what to do to help dispel the dark mood that’s settled over Kyle. The pall of our conversation still lingered while we finished our drinks and it’s still here, on the walk back to my apartment. I wish I hadn’t brought it up. While we walk along the mostly empty sidewalks, the street lamps illuminate his brooding profile and I know this is my moment. This is the time when I need to say something, anything, anything at all. But nothing comes. No words—no actions—nothing. He reaches out, and as our hands come together, I know we’ll find our way through this emptiness. It just won’t be through something I say or do because the more I try to come up with conversational ideas, the more my mind draws a total blank.
He stays with me all the way to my door and as I unlock the deadbolt I can feel the heat of him against my back.
I push the door open and step inside. “Would you like a drink?” I ask, turning to face him when he closes the door.
He shakes his head and steps toward me with a feral gleam in his eyes. I stand frozen in place until he grips my hips with both hands, pulling me forward until our bodies are as close as they can be. He takes my lips in a punishing kiss, sucking and biting on them with more force than I’m used to.
My hands move up his shoulders and into his hair as I clench fistfuls between my fingers. My knees go weak when his tongue moves in to play with mine. I moan into his mouth when he presses his hard cock against me.
His palms slide down to cup my ass and control the movement of my hips against his while we continue to kiss. I gasp at the feel of his fingers against my skin when he unbuttons my pants. By the time he slides down my zipper, the air is so thick with anticipation I’m short of breath. He rips my jeans and panties down to my ankles in one hard tug and I kick them off along with my shoes. I unzip my jacket, but when I go to remove it he stops me.
“Don’t.” His voice is deep and commanding sending tingles to all the right places on my body. He scoops me up and sits me down on the long, narrow console table in my entryway.
My hands drop to the wooden surface behind me for balance as he lowers to his knees on the floor in front of me. My lips part, a groan escaping when I realize what he’s about to do.
He pushes my knees up toward my chest and my head drops back against the wall at the first dip of his tongue in my pussy. He licks back and forth along the full length of my slit before slowly circling my clit.
“You taste fucking incredible,” he says, his face still buried between my legs as he continues devouring me. His stubble rasps the skin on my legs as he buries his tongue in my pussy. He bites my inner thigh and I moan.
My hands move to grip his shoulders and pull him closer.
“Hands on the table,” he orders, his husky voice vibrating against my clit. I immediately comply, afraid he’ll stop if I don’t. His fingers slide inside me to push on the perfect spot and he uses his other hand to expose my clit, now ready for his torturous tongue. I thrust my hips toward his mouth as I get closer to finding my release.
“Hold still or I’ll stop,” he growls out.
“Please,” I beg. “Don’t stop.” I barely get the words out before his mouth sucks harder on my clit while he works his fingers inside of me. It only takes me a minute before I shake and moan my way through my orgasm.
Jesus that was intense.
Chapter Six
Kyle
If Janny never speaks to me again I won’t blame her. Not after the way our date ended tonight. I left almost immediately after I pounced on her in her entryway. Bringing her to orgasm twice was overshadowed by the mere brushing of our lips. I rushed out of there, without a second glance, like she meant nothing to me. I shake my head, disgusted with myself at the way I treated her—she makes me lose all fucking control.
I pull off my t-shirt and think about the expression on her face when I said goodbye. She looked shocked and confused. I acted like a complete asshole. I kick off my jeans, leaving them on the floor before climbing in bed, wearing only my black boxer briefs. I adjust my pillow, place my hands behind my head and begin to replay the situation in my mind.
Our conversation at the bar wasn’t something I expected to deal with. It’s been three years since my life changed so drastically and I’m still not in a good place about it. I don’t think I ever will be. There are moments where I’m content with the new direction my life has taken, but I’m a cop—I’ll always be a cop. Just because I’m no longer physically capable doesn’t change my mindset. Sometimes the resentment I feel about all I’ve lost churns in my gut and I struggle to control it. I usually end up at the gym, beating on the heavy bag until my anger goes away. Tonight, on our date, that option wasn’t possible and when she kept asking me questions I didn’t want to answer, my mood went to a dark place, escalating until I was ready to snap.
Unfortunately, I t
ook my anger out on her sexually and, although I know I made her come, the whole encounter had a cold, distant feeling to it. It’s not how I wanted our first time being intimate to go. I don’t want to be that guy with Janny. She’s special to me and she deserves so much more. I’ll make it up to her somehow—I have to.
I reach over and pick up my cellphone off my nightstand. I need to know if she’s mad at me before I can sleep. I peer at the time on the front of my screen. Eleven o’clock. I hope she’s still awake—I can’t wait until tomorrow to send her this message. It needs to be now.
I’m sorry about the way our date ended. I didn’t mean to leave so abruptly.
I press send and hope for a reply. It only takes a minute before my incoming message notification goes off.
It’s ok. I had a great time with you.
I’m shocked by her answer, I expected to read the opposite.
If you agree to go out with me again, I promise to make it up to you.
I type the message and wait to see what she says. When her answer comes in, I read it and it makes me smile.
Of course, I’ll go out with you again. Call me tomorrow.
Janny is even sweeter than I imagined if she’s willing to give me another chance this early in the game. Thank God, she has such a forgiving nature.
I will. Goodnight.
With the dawn of a new day comes a new sense of purpose, as I resolve to do a better job of keeping a tighter lid on the darkest parts of me. I can’t scare Janny off before she gets to know me and if I act like a moody prick, that’s what’s going to happen.
I sit down behind my desk to go over my notes on the Moore case and read the report Ben sent me. He went over Bryan’s financials with a fine-tooth comb and didn’t find any red flags. No large deposits had been added to his personal bank accounts, only some international banking, which he’ll be looking into. I just hope, for Janny’s sake there isn’t more to Bryan than meets the eye.
The Complete Quake Series Page 5
