by Lacey Silks
“I have some last minute business to tend to, so this works out well for the both of us.” He took my suitcase and lifted it like it was a handbag.
Last minute, right!
His chiseled face held a hint of worry, and I noted his body seemed wary of mine. Darker circles underlined his eyes. Cross kept his distance this morning. I took a whiff to make sure my deodorant hadn’t failed me.
“Didn’t sleep well last night?” I asked, following him to the Bentley.
“No.” He shook his head. “You kept me up most of the night.”
“Huh?”
After placing my suitcase in the trunk, he opened the passenger door, and I climbed into the leather seat. The air-conditioned interior felt like I’d just stepped into a fridge. Shivers ran up my arms and goose bumps covered my thighs. Cross closed the door behind him, and turned my way. His gaze penetrated my whole body, and suddenly I felt like I could sweat buckets. Is this how women in menopause feel? I wondered.
He took a deep breath of courage and then exhaled, saying, “I should have done this yesterday. If I don’t taste your lips, I won’t get any work done.”
I couldn’t even reply. In an instant, my words were muffled by his mouth, and everything inside me shut down. My body went limp, melting into the seat as my arms flopped at my sides. His hands cupped my face, the pads of his thumbs caressing my cheeks back and forth as his tongue spread my lips, sliding into my willing mouth. He explored inside me, tending to every nook. The longing of his soft kiss pulsed through my whole body, and I forgot who I was and where I was. I had no strength to resist him. I could no longer deny Cross and responded to him, opening my mouth wider, letting my tongue dance with his. A hint of scotch flowed to me as he lingered around my gums and moaned deep inside me. If I had ten tequila shots, all at once, I doubted they’d knock me off my feet as hard as Cross had. The world spun, the car spun, and when he finally pulled away, I couldn’t believe what had happened and how much his kiss awakened the woman inside me.
“You taste much better than I imagined,” he said into my lips, leaning his forehead against mine.
I finally let out the long held breath and asked, “Imagined?”
“I wondered about your lips all night and couldn’t sleep. Now I don’t have to wonder anymore.”
Compose yourself! I thought. This trip is important.
“I’m glad I satisfied your curiosity.” Everything inside me was turning at the thought of Cross thinking about my lips. Who was this woman sitting in his car? I’d never allowed anyone to leave me so breathless and lightheaded and thinking about stupid giddy feelings instead of a ruthless life.
“You satisfied only one of them. I’m curious about the rest of your body too.”
Oh, God! My whole body tingled with excitement just thinking how much I wanted to let him explore that too. But the composed and guarded woman I wanted appeared and spoke instead: “This isn’t a honeymoon, Cross. If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, perhaps I should drive after all.” My mouth said one thing, but I so didn’t mean it. I couldn’t think around this man.
His hands flew up, palms toward me. “That won’t be necessary. I promise to keep them to myself. Even at night, I’ll keep them all to myself.” The grin on Cross’s face said it all. “But I can’t promise I won’t think about you and your lips.”
At that moment I imagined his hands on his manhood, stroking himself at night as he thought about me, and I doubted I could keep my hands away from my body either. When I touched myself, I’d pretend they were his fingers on me. And when I came, I’d think of the juices that lubricated my entrance especially for him. The dampness between my legs became unbearable. This would be one hell of a trip.
We drove to New Jersey’s small airport for private planes in silence. From my side glance, the smile of satisfaction on Cross’s face pushed my heart rate into overdrive. He acted like he’d accomplished his mission first thing in the morning and everything ahead was downhill.
The private jet was small but cozy. The stewardess served Cross a glass of scotch, and he asked me whether I’d like anything to drink. I declined politely and Cross laughed.
“I promise next time to have tequila on board.”
“I’m not dependant on tequila, Cross.” I wondered whether he knew about the bottle in my suitcase I’d packed for my mother.
“I never said you were.”
Once we landed in Charleston, another Bentley was parked on the tarmac.
“How many Bentleys do you own?” I asked.
“This one’s a rental. It’s a reliable car. Why?”
“I’m surprised you don’t ride in limos.”
“I like the feel of my hands on the wheel.” He shrugged. “The photos you probably googled of me in a limo are publicity shots for the company.”
“I see. And the dark-haired women under your arm?” My curiosity was bursting at the seams.
I bit my lip. Don’t sound like a jealous girlfriend! But of course the composed woman I prided on being had left the moment Cross kissed me this morning. And since he was answering personal questions, I wanted to ask.
“Some of them were hired for the night.” He placed my small suitcase into the trunk and then came around to open my door.
“Like escort girls?”
“Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking. More like struggling actresses wanting free press.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t sleep around, Allie. I’m a one-girl kind of a man.”
Somehow I found that difficult to believe. Was I assuming too much, the way my friend Laura had about me? When she saw me the first time at the strip club, she told me she’d thought I was a bitch who slept around. And she couldn’t have been more wrong. But my best friend kept my secret and promised to let me know if anyone else at the force found out. No one had.
“And is there a girl in your life?” I could have shot myself! Why did he have to kiss me like that? Like I was his and only his and I was the only one in his life. Like Mr. Sexy’s life depended on my breathing. I knew I’d crossed the line this time. That was way too personal even for me, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“If there was, I wouldn’t have kissed you.”
Could this really be happening? So, kissing just anyone wasn’t his style. The affirmation from his gorgeous mouth that begged to be molded to mine was a bonus. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his beautiful smile and dimple. Oh, my gosh, I was turning out to be like Laura after all! She was going to have a ball with me if this thing between me and Cross ever got out.
“I’m surprised you’re single, Allie. With a body like yours, men should be lining up at your door.”
“Except I usually have a tight vest on my chest and a gun at my side when I’m out and about. The cop ensemble doesn’t exactly scream sexy, and the gun scares off men.”
“Are you kidding? You could be wearing a snow suit and I’d still want to...” He pulled over to the curb. “We’re here.”
Cross parked in front of a low-rise building: my mother’s apartment.
“Thank you. I really appreciate the ride. I hope your business goes well.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll be at this hotel if you need anything. And I mean anything, Allie.”
I knew exactly what he meant and worst of all, I immediately considered taking him up on the offer. I took the card he handed me. Cross leaned over and kissed me on my cheek. I closed my eyes, inhaling him. There was nothing better than his scent. For the first time since we’d met, I’d truly miss his company.
Once he pulled away I went upstairs to greet my mother. The sound of unlocking metal chains when I told her it was me crawled along my skin. The dreaded past, pain, and fear overwhelmed me when I stepped in and hugged her – right after she locked up again, that is.
“It’s been too long,” she said.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been working.”
“Just like your father. So committed to your job. I’m proud of you, Allie, and I
know your father would have been too.”
“How are you, Mom?” I opened my suitcase and placed the bottle of tequila on the kitchen table. My mother took out two glasses from the cupboard without even asking. This was what we did. We drank together to mourn together, and to forget.
I poured about an inch deep from the bottom as she sliced the lemons.
“It’s better.” This was her standard answer.
“I’m going to kill Wright.”
My mother sat down casually as if I’d just given her news about the weather. “You won’t do anything so foolish, Allie.” She pointed to the seat across the table.
“You’ll be free of him.”
“I was free the moment I left Pinedale. My only regret was not leaving sooner.” She threw her head back, downing the first shot. Her face shifted as the first burn of the liquid passed through her throat.
“What if he finds you again? It’s been too quiet for a while. I have a feeling it may be time to move.”
The two previous times Wright had come to see my mother, his bad timing saved her from another brutal attack. She wasn’t alone. Hours later I’d be driving her to a new location.
“Wright is an obsessed son of a bitch and knows the law. He won’t stop.”
She raised her brows slightly. At times when I spoke of Wright, my mouth got away from me. “I’m more worried about you, Allie. You need to start living a happy life instead of being burdened by your mother’s past.”
“Your past is my past. Your pain is my pain.” I took her hand.
“But it shouldn’t be this way.”
“I will kill him, mom, and I need you to know before I do.”
“Darling,” she said, smoothing her hand on my cheek, the way she had when I was young, “you won’t do such thing. Wright will eventually get what’s coming to him. It’s called karma.”
“Then call me Karma.”
She laughed. I liked seeing her rare moments of happiness.
“I’m also quitting the force.”
My mother’s face sobered and I had her complete attention. “Why?”
“For a new job. A better job. And, I’ve met someone who will help me get rid of Wright.” I felt my cheeks warm, and it wasn’t from the liquor.
She narrowed her brows. “And does the handsome man know it yet?”
“No,” I shook my head, not surprised how well my mother understood me.
“Allie, you need to let Wright go. Try to enjoy life for a change. Don’t let what happened to me fill your schedule. I know it does. You’ve been alone way too long. If this man means something to you, and agrees to help you kill, then he’s not worthy of you. Your father always said no human should take the life of another unless it’s in self defense or to protect someone. God will punish those who do.”
I knew my mother was lying through her teeth for my benefit. She’d shoot Wright between the eyes the moment she got a chance, no matter what Daddy had said. Daddy didn’t know Wright the way we now did. And, I could tell she hadn’t left the apartment for a while, perhaps had a neighbor do her groceries. She’d only go out if it was necessary. That’s how she’d lived for the past thirteen years. My mother didn’t live – she survived.
“It’s to protect you.” I took my shot, letting the first gulp burn my throat. It didn’t matter how smooth the tequila was, the first one always burned. After the initiation, the liquor passed through smoothly, and after a few it was almost like water.
“I’m fine here.” She pointed to the corner of the room where a shotgun was propped in a corner.
“Did you register it?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Good. He could find you if you had.”
“I told you not to worry. If Wright steps anywhere near me, I won’t hesitate.”
“I know you won’t.”
Three quarters of a bottle later, we ordered pizza with wings. The day passed in a haze. I told my mother about the mysterious Tristan Cross and his job offer. She examined my face as I spoke about him, and I wasn’t sure why. She looked worried. She knew I was a good cop and could protect myself, but the lack of details about the undercover hooker position had her questioning everything about Cross, including my feelings for a man I’d just met. I couldn’t hide that he was hot and I thought about him day and night. For a moment, she had a peculiar smile on her face. My mother’s knowing expression hid something from me. It had been a while since I’d seen her this interested in what was happening in my life. Perhaps because my life up to this point had been too boring? She said I reminded her of her young self when she went to a prom, which surprised me. Fortunately the tequila took my wit away and I didn’t overthink it.
I enjoyed a refreshing shower and slid into the one black dress I’d packed. I forgot why I had decided to take it with me, but a girl should always have a black dress on hand. Deep inside, since Cross had given me his hotel address, I’d known I’d end up wearing it to see him. The black fabric hugged my curves as if it had been sewn on. On such rare occasions, when I could discard my man-fitted uniform, I felt like a real woman. The hint of natural makeup on my face took me back in time. It was identical to how my mother had worn her makeup – before the assault, when she actually went outside to let the sun bronze her face. My mother was already in her nightgown; I kissed her goodnight and told her not to wait up. I didn’t leave until the last click of the chain lock sounded.
The cabbie drove too slowly for my liking. But at least I’d sobered up a bit before he pulled in front of Planters Inn. I paid him and rushed to the hotel, stopping in the lobby. The interior screamed money, and the little devil on my shoulder broke out in its ‘you don’t belong here’ laughter.
My fingers and toes tingled. I cracked my head to the side and took a deeper breath. What the fuck was I doing? I should be with my mother, but her early bedtime and even earlier mornings just weren’t my thing.
The faint sound of quiet live music drew my gaze toward the lobby bar. Another shot of tequila would add some braveness to my body. I headed for the low-lit room. The plush carpeting under my feet felt like a sponge when I stopped in the doorway. The man at the grand piano began a new tune as I scanned the tables. Orange and brown Tiffany lamp tones from above hardly illuminated anyone, casting precise shadows on people’s faces that allowed intimate and private conversations. My gaze finally rested on the bar and the broad shoulders of a muscular back. They stretched out under a black shirt that could only belong to one person. A fragment of his thorn tattoo showed from underneath the sleeve. A glass of scotch swirled the ice cubes in his right hand. Tristan Cross looked as sexy from the back as from the front.
I took a deep breath in and slowed my steps toward him. The faint bar light shone from the top, lighting the blond streaks in his tussled brown hair. A foot away I stopped. Feeling someone’s gaze on my back, I turned around. I shook the weird feeling off as nerves, and slid my hand around Cross’s waist from behind.
“I want you to taste me again.” I closed my eyes and leaned around from behind, pressing my lips to his. The response was immediate. His lips swelled and I opened my mouth. The sweet taste of scotch filled my mouth. His tender tongue welcomed me as if it was once again our first, semi-deep kiss. My mouth searched for the small scar ripple on his lip, but I couldn’t feel it. He explored me provocatively, yet not too deep to draw attention. His arms rested on my hips, and I wondered why he hadn’t embraced me yet. I wanted to be closer, to feel his hard chest against mine.
“Is it a habit of yours to kiss strange men?” someone asked behind me.
I jumped up, suddenly aware it was Cross who spoke. “What the hell?” I felt my mouth drop open as I pushed away from the look-alike.
“It felt more like heaven,” the man said.
I looked from him to Tristan and my hand flew up to cover my mouth. The resemblance between the two men was unbelievable. From the high cheeks and deep hazel eyes down to the little dimple in his chin, this man was a slig
htly older version of Tristan Cross. The only piece missing was the small scar on his upper lip.
“Allie Green, meet Julian Cross, my brother.” A wicked smile stretched across Tristan’s face.
The man I’d just kissed offered his hand to shake.
“Why did you kiss me back?” I accused, tightening my fists.
“Why do we eat, sleep, or walk?” he answered, grinning. “And I’m not the one who kissed you. You kissed me first.” He still held his hand out, waiting for a proper introduction.
“Seriously? You share the same tattoo artist too?”
Both of them simply grinned.
I did the double-take between the two brothers who could have passed for twins. Yet it seemed Tristan’s older brother had more of a devilish streak than Tristan. I finally took his hand and shook it in a formal greeting.
“You’re not the first to make the mistake, although next time I’d prefer to be on the receiving end.” Tristan guided my elbow to sit up on the bar stool. He then leaned in, whispering in my ear, “You look ravishing, by the way.”
The warm breath caressed my cheek and the room seemed to shrink again, making me acutely aware of how close Tristan was to me.
“Thank you. I’m sorry about that, Julian. I won’t make the mistake again.”
“I didn’t mind,” he answered.
“Trust me, she won’t make the mistake again.” Tristan’s tone sharpened. He sat on my other side, and for a moment I felt like I was squished in a yummy Cross brother sandwich.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening,” I said.
“I’m glad you did, and you’re not really interrupting. We’re done for tonight.” He looked toward the bartender and called, “Comisario.”
“Wait...” I placed my hand on Tristan’s. The touch may as well have been a kiss. It weaved like an electric current up my arm to my face and my lips in a series of heated waves and sweet pulses. I locked my gaze with Tristan’s, saying, “That’s too much.”
“It’s on me, Allie. Enjoy.” The bartender poured a shot of one of the most delicious tequilas I’d ever encountered. Cross tapped the bar with his finger, and the bottle remained on the bar.
