Committed

by Sidney Bristol

  “When’s the last time you saw her?”

  “Today. I was at her place when they called and said they wanted to do this bust.” Technically, they didn’t need Damien or Matías to handle this, but since there were a number of new field agents that needed experience, Gio had requested they come in to corral the excitement.

  “And you just left her?” Matías shook his head and muttered something in Spanish, too low for Damien to make out.

  “What was I supposed to do? Tell Gio I’m sorry, but I’m too busy tying up some chick to come in to do a bust? No, thanks. I do not want to ever have that conversation with her.”

  “Yeah, but man, I’ve seen you almost every fucking day. When do you have time to see this chick? Priorities, man. Work is work, it’s not your whole life, and if you don’t pay a woman the attention she deserves, you’ll lose her.”

  “You sound like you speak from experience.”

  “I do. I had a girl in my twenties I wanted to marry, but the jobs gave me such a high I couldn’t say no. I’d be gone for weeks, months at a time, and one day I come back and she’s boxed up all my stuff and sent it to my mother’s. Erased me from her life because I was never around, and she was right. She’s got a man in her life now, and four kids. I could never have given her that.”

  Damien opened his mouth, but had nothing to say. Bits of memory flashed in his mind.

  The phone call at House Surrender.

  Poppy tied to a ladder.

  Getting in his car to go to the Huck Finn site.

  Seeing Poppy in the library, all that hurt and torment on her face for one brief moment.

  Poppy hesitant to even speak to him.

  Poppy’s protests, her numerous attempts to keep him at arm’s length.

  Matías was right.

  “Fuck,” Damien muttered.

  The federal building the DEA offices were housed in loomed ahead, one never-sleeping hubbub of activity.

  “Are you going to the office or home?” Damien asked.

  “I’ve got paperwork to do.”

  “Can I let you out here?”

  “You aren’t doing your reports tonight?”

  “No, man. I’ll do it Monday if Gio asks. If Cooper says anything, tell him to go fuck himself.” He eased to a stop at the curb.

  “Huh. Someone’s growing some balls.” Matías grinned at him and opened his door. “Tell her I said hi, okay?”

  “Fuck you,” Damien said, without heat.

  Would Poppy have packed up his bag and left it in the hall?

  Damien backtracked to Lake Shore Drive and headed north, tapping the steering wheel and resisting the urge to blast through the speed limit. He was guilty of tunnel vision. His mother had pointed it out early in his career, how he’d let the job take his focus so much that he’d completely missed his grandfather’s failing health until he was on his deathbed.

  One day he’d been shooting pool with his grandfather, tossing creative insults back and forth, the next Damien had held his hand as he took his last breath.

  A string of brief girlfriends flitted through his mind. Had they left him because of the job, too? None of them had been keepers, not like Poppy, but he’d been incapable of maintaining the kind of steady, long-term relationship many of his peers had. The women in his life were either companions or play partners, until her. Poppy fit. But was he screwing up before they’d begun?

  Damien spent the drive to the north side of town chasing questions in his head and fidgeting with the radio. His phone buzzed, but seeing Gio’s name on the screen, he ignored it.

  Not tonight.

  Nearly twenty minutes later he exited into Poppy’s neighborhood. The streets were dark and quiet, lined with cars. He passed by the brownstone building that housed her apartment. Not a parking space anywhere.

  He cursed his luck and circled the block, and still no available space to park his SUV. There were a few small spots, maybe big enough for a compact car, but nothing to accommodate a vehicle of this size. He backtracked and went in the other direction, but nothing opened up. Now he understood why Poppy didn’t drive. There wasn’t anywhere to park a car if she had one, as silly as that was.

  Damien looped around again, growing more anxious to end the parking game, when he saw a small group of people exit a brownstone and amble down the sidewalk. They split into two groups and got into not one, but two cars, parked one behind the other.

  He said a silent prayer of thanks and waited for both cars to pull out before sliding easily into the generous space.

  He tucked his gun into his pants under his jacket, and nearly jogged the two blocks to Poppy’s apartment. He took the stairs two at a time and pounded on the door. If she were in her bedroom, she’d never hear him, so he knocked a little harder.

  Why wasn’t she answering? Had she gone to her mother’s to make amends? To a friend’s house? The club?

  His stomach rolled at the idea of her going to the club without him, and without even asking his permission. But they hadn’t discussed the boundaries of their relationship. Hell, he didn’t even know if this was a relationship to her. He’d fallen into it from the beginning as if it were meant to be.

  Damien pulled out his phone and looked at the time.

  “Shit.”

  The lock clicked and the door swung inward.

  Poppy leaned against the wall, her hair disheveled, wearing a fuzzy, pink robe with gold crowns all over it. She rubbed her eyes and blinked at him.

  “I’m sorry. Shit. I didn’t even think about what time it was.” So much of his life didn’t operate on a standard day.

  “It’s okay,” she mumbled.

  I can leave. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but that wasn’t what he wanted. He’d driven halfway across Chicago to be with her, so why leave?

  He crowded her back into the apartment, closed and locked the door behind him.

  “Everything okay?” Poppy asked.

  “Meow.”

  He glanced down at a blue-eyed cat staring up at him with an air of expectancy.

  Sorry dude, scratches later.

  “Everything’s fine now.” Damien wrapped his arms around Poppy and tucked her head under his chin. She hummed and hugged him back. Holding her settled him. “I’m sorry it’s so late. I didn’t even think about it when I headed over here.”

  After a pause, she said, “It’s okay.”

  The hesitation stood out to him. Had he fucked up before they’d begun?

  Emilio dropped the car he’d boosted earlier that evening in an alley and had to double-time it to keep Special Agent Moana in sight. The streets were deserted, which made this more risky. All it would take was a glance over his shoulder, a footstep echoing at the wrong moment, to totally give him away. Except his prey didn’t seem that concerned about anything but his destination. In fact, Emilio had to almost jog to keep up with him.

  Where was he going?

  Emilio was determined to ferret out the man’s secrets, find out what mattered most to him—and destroy it, just like the man had killed Valentina.

  One block, then two.

  Emilio glanced over his shoulder, the skin between his shoulder blades prickling more the farther they went. Was this a trap? Was that why his quarry didn’t once glance over his shoulder?

  While Emilio didn’t have any respect for officers of the law, most of them at least checked their tail a few times, out of habit, but Moana didn’t seem to care.

  Moana slipped between two cars and jogged across a well-lit street.

  Emilio stuck to the shadows on the other side of the street, with its tree-lined sidewalk.

  Moana bounded up a set of stairs and let himself in to a brownstone apartment building, the kind with maybe six rentals in it.

  Interesting.

  Emilio leaned against a railing and waited.

  Who lived in this building? Who was making a seasoned agent forget his training to such a degree?

  Someone Emilio needed to meet. />
  Poppy shut the bathroom door and stared at her reflection.

  What was he doing here?

  She’d wallowed in her pity party until a call from Nikki kicked her out of it. A short dinner with her best friend had lightened her mood and put her day in perspective. Damien and her mother weren’t the whole of her life. She had a job, friends, and a community that loved her. While Damien spoke to her in a way no other man had, he also wasn’t the only man who had ever made her panties wet.

  Poppy shook her head and reached for a brush to tame her hair a bit. She wasn’t ready to close the book on what she could have with Damien, but he already had a big piece of her, with hardly any effort on his part.

  But he’d come back. He hadn’t just left, never to return again. He’d done what needed to be done, and now here he was, in her bedroom.

  “Meow.”

  She sighed and glared at the door. “Yoshi, I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Mario meowed at people, while Yoshi meowed at doors.

  She finished up in the bathroom and opened the door. As soon as there was room, Yoshi stepped through, back arched and his green gaze on her.

  “Aren’t you just pitiful?” She scooped up her yowling monster and snuggled him for a moment.

  Poppy carried Yoshi into the bedroom. Mario lay curled up on Damien’s chest, head tossed back in feline ecstasy as Damien scratched just the right spot. As big as Damien was, the cat still hung off one side. Maybe her cats were giants, but she loved the furballs.

  It warmed her heart a bit to see how readily Damien took to her cats. He didn’t begrudge their perceived right to anyone who entered the apartment, or their greedy ways when it came to getting attention.

  If her cats loved him, could he be so bad?

  She slipped in next to Damien and put Yoshi in his customary spot at the foot of the bed. Despite having spent the previous night with this man, her nerves jangled hard enough that she clenched her teeth. She was too rattled to sleep now, which was the only downside.

  Poppy turned off the lamp and tried to find a comfortable spot.

  “Sorry, buddy, you had your turn,” Damien said in the darkness.

  She felt the bed dip and move, punctuated by Mario’s distinct meow of discontent.

  A warm hand wrapped around her forearm.

  Damien.

  “Come here,” he whispered.

  Her heart fluttered as she complied. He cuddled her close and brushed his lips across her forehead. It was nice. Sweet, even.

  “I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly earlier and waking you up. I’m a tool.” His voice was a low rumble in the darkness.

  “It’s okay.” But was it? Was she playing to her dreams even now?

  “You say it’s okay, but you don’t really mean it.”

  She held still. Was he some kind of mind reader, too?

  Damien sighed and stroked her back. “I haven’t given you much of a reason to believe me, but I will.”

  He spoke with such conviction that it softened her heart. She propped her chin up on his chest. Enough light came through the windows that she could make out his darker shape against the pale-purple pillows.

  “I want you to prove it to me. I want to believe you. I hate that I don’t.”

  He pushed his fingers through her hair, combing it out to lay over his chest. She tilted her head and relaxed a bit.

  “I’m used to women I have a relationship with fitting into one part of my life or the other. If she’s someone I would date, my coworkers know who she is and ask us over for barbecues and to watch the game, but we don’t … play. If she’s someone I would play with, my dungeon family knows every bit of her, but to my coworkers, she doesn’t exist.”

  Poppy listened with a sinking feeling. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out which category she fit into, and she didn’t like being a dirty secret.

  “But my coworkers know who you are, and so do my dungeon family. I don’t think I quite know how to handle it. Yet.” He placed his hand over hers, pressing it against his pectoral.

  Wait … what?

  “I’m not perfect. I’ve screwed up. I get that. All I’m asking for is a little patience while I get my shit together.”

  How did she reply to that?

  Oh, no, you screwed up once, sorry, that’s it. I’m totally perfect and never do anything wrong, by the way.

  Hell, no.

  Poppy crawled up his body, fumbling to find his face. Her nose bumped his chin before she found his mouth with hers. He tasted of mint and coffee. A little bit of perfection.

  “I’m a basket case and relationships make me nervous. I’m about a decade behind everyone else when it comes to those skills,” she blurted out, feeling heat crawl up her neck.

  Damien rolled them over. Mario leapt off the bed, meowing his displeasure, but he’d get over it. He kissed her again, pressing her into the pillows while his body settled between her thighs.

  “I can help you there,” Damien whispered.

  Her heart raced. Was he serious? Did he mean, like, a relationship-relationship? Or something else? Her tongue was too busy sparring with his to vocalize the question, but there would be time for specifics later.

  Damien palmed her breast through the fabric of the T-shirt she’d worn to bed. It wasn’t exactly sexy attire, but she hadn’t expected him to make an appearance. She arched into his hold as his fingers passed back and forth over her hardening nipples. She wrapped her thighs around him and raked her nails down his back. He hadn’t yet allowed her the use of her hands during sex, and she wanted to touch him all over.

  He kissed a trail down her neck to the collar of her shirt, while his hands slid under the fabric. She mapped his shoulders and back, relishing the way his muscles rippled against her palms. He pushed the shirt up and she pulled it off, tossing it over the edge of the bed.

  Damien paused and chuckled as yet another meow and soft thud marked the departure of Yoshi.

  “I don’t think they like me much right now,” he said, his lips brushing her stomach.

  “They’ll get over it, promise.” They were cuddle-sluts, which was one of the reasons she loved her cats. Any transgression could be cured with a good snuggle on the couch or in bed.

  Damien scraped his stubble against her ticklish sides and she squirmed, trying not to giggle. Giggling was not sexy, but she couldn’t help it. He held her in place with his weight and strength, subjecting her to the torturous drag up and down her other side.

  He chuckled and moved to her breast, nuzzling the underside. His mouth was magic. He drew her nipple into his mouth and gently teased the nub with his teeth. She undulated beneath him, wanting the feel of his cock inside her once more.

  She slid her hands over his scalp and down his neck, and kneaded the muscles in his shoulders.

  Damien rose suddenly, leaving her and going across the room—to his bag.

  Poppy removed her panties, tossing them in the vicinity of the hamper. Damien returned with nothing more than a condom. She didn’t know if she could take more play. Arousal sang through her veins, and she wanted to touch him this time. They didn’t need the trappings of bondage or power exchange, not all the time.

  He removed his boxers and rolled the condom on. She felt his gaze flick to her, but in the dim light she couldn’t make out his features, just his form. Could a man be beautiful? Because he was.

  Damien crawled up her body once more, joining their lips as she reached for his hard length. He pulsed in her grasp, as ready as she was. She drew him closer, hitching her leg higher around his waist and bringing him to her entrance.

  He held her face with both hands as he thrust. Their breath mingled as their bodies joined. He withdrew and thrust again. She whimpered as sore muscles protested, but it felt too good to stop.

  She ran her hands down his back to his ass and squeezed, urging him deeper. The hard muscles flexed as he pushed further into her body, seating himself fully in her pussy. She squirmed, trying to
move, but he held her perfectly still.

  Damien kissed her sweetly, a gentle brush of his lips across hers. He mastered her body while wooing her heart. Did he even know what he was doing? Was it intentional?

  He withdrew and thrust, his motions slow and controlled. She was almost glad for the darkness, because it hid the swell of emotions ricocheting around in her chest. He slid in and out, touching the deepest parts of her, and not just her pussy. He was touching her heart.

  She arched her back and moved her hips in time to his thrusts. His nose bumped hers as he searched for her mouth. They chuckled and their lips met. For a moment all that mattered was the kiss, their joined bodies, and the soul-deep connection.

  Damien took a handful of her hair and twisted her head sideways, baring her neck to him. He withdrew and thrust. She gasped as he changed the angle of his thrusts. He filled her completely. He wrapped a hand around her neck and squeezed slightly, just enough to let her know he was there, and what he could do.

  Poppy dug her nails into his shoulders as the orgasm rolled over her, lust, desire, and even love twining together to drag her under the tide of pleasure zinging through her body. Damien shoved deep and his whole body tensed as he groaned.

  For several moments they lay clinging to each other, as the haze of their lovemaking passed. Poppy bit her lip and stroked the marks she’d left on him.

  Her life wasn’t a fairy tale, and yet she was falling for a man she barely knew.

  Damien moved first, easing from her body and kissing her forehead before leaving to clean up in the bathroom. She got out of bed on shaky legs to get a clean pair of panties and a silky nightgown.

  Mario appeared between her ankles, while Yoshi yowled at the bathroom door. She bent and rubbed under Mario’s chin.

  “How do you fall in love with people so fast?” she whispered to the cat.

  Mario’s eyes glinted in the dark as the bathroom door opened.

  “It’s all you,” Damien said as he entered the bedroom, wearing nothing.

  She clutched her clothes to her chest and slipped past him, too emotionally unstable to speak yet.

  In the safety of the bathroom, she blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand across her face. She went through her routine on autopilot, finding no solace in the release she’d just shared. If anything, there was more tension riding her now.