by Stacy Eaton
“How’s your night going?” Did my voice sound as shaky as I felt?
“Better now,” he grinned. I took a sip of my coffee.
“Why now?” I asked after I swallowed the hot, sweet liquid.
“I got to see you.” He winked, “You are much better to look at than the bozo guys I work with.”
“Oh, come on, those guys are great!” I laughed.
“Yeah, they are great, but,” he turned away, “it’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t them.”
“I know what you mean. It gets quiet out where I am. Sometimes there’s no one to talk to.”
“Somehow I can’t imagine you being lonely. I’m sure you get messages all night long from guys wanting to talk to you.”
I threw my head back and laughed, shaking my head as I spoke, “Not really. I keep to myself most of the time.”
“Why is that?” his voice took on a serious tone.
My shoulders rose in a small shrug, “Don’t know, I just like to keep work…work. I don’t spend too much time socializing when I am here. I do enough of that on my days off.”
“What do you do when you’re off?” He crossed his right foot over his left, then matched his arms that way after setting his coffee down on the hood of his car. His shoulders and chest looked wider than before as he stood there. What would his body feel like wrapped around me?
Whoa, lady! I needed to change thinking tracks because this one was derailing me. I put the coffee cup to my lips again and took a long, slow drink. Think about what I do, that is a much better train of thought than his chest. No, it’s not, but it’s safer.
“I spend most of my time doing charity work. I volunteer at the cancer center for children, and a couple times a week I work at the women’s shelter.” He cocked his head and contemplated me more closely. Was that even possible? I felt like I was under a microscope already. “Joe said you had the heart of an angel, I guess he was right.”
Laughter bubbled up and released as I pictured myself with angel wings. “I’m far from being an angel.”
“From where I stand, I think you are wrong.” His voice had taken on a sultry quality. A shiver ran down my spine.
“You don’t know me, Mitch,” I said quietly back to him.
He pushed off his car, “You’re right, but I’d like to, Corey.”
We stood two feet apart, staring each other down. How badly I wanted to close the gap and touch his lips, feel his chest against mine.
“Why?” I whispered into the air between us.
“I can’t give you a real answer to that. All I know is that from the moment I saw you last night, I can’t get you off my mind. When I am near you, it’s like there is a rope around me pulling me closer.”
He felt the same thing that I did. I swallowed while I thought of a response.
“Mitch, you’re married.” There, I said it, the dinosaur in the room.
He heaved a large sigh, “Yeah, I am. That doesn’t change what I feel right now, though.”
“It may not change the way you feel, but it doesn’t change the fact that you are, either.” I smiled softly, trying to ease the bluntness of my comment.
He leaned back against his car again, picking up his coffee cup. He finished what was inside. I watched him swallow, wanting to touch his throat with my mouth. I laughed at my own thoughts.
“What’s so funny?” he smirked while he set his cup down.
“Nothing, sorry,” I felt my cheeks warm. “Okay, maybe I feel the same thing you do, but like I said, it doesn’t change anything, and I don’t go around getting involved with married men, so we need to keep this on a friendship level, alright?”
He studied me for a moment. “Alright.”
We spent a few more minutes chatting about work before he got an ambulance call and needed to leave.
The longing we both felt crossed between us like high-tension wires as he climbed into his car.
For about four weeks we met whenever we could to share our coffee breaks in peace. The mounting pressure grew between us each time we were together. The apprehension, an almost tangible force that surrounded us, crackled in the air when we stood a few feet apart.
We were careful not to talk about what was on our minds constantly, the need that unconsciously pulled us closer. We, instead, shared stories of our jobs, laughed about stupid things we had done growing up, and avoided any talk of his wife and my ex-husband. The more we spoke, the more we found we had a lot in common, and the closer we became emotionally.
There was not a day that went by that I didn’t wake up with his face in my mind, or a time I fell asleep that I didn’t wish he were beside me. I longed to feel his arms, to taste his lips, but the problem remained between us: He was a married man.
This night, just four weeks after we had met, found us, like many others, standing two feet apart, leaning against our cars, and staring at each other. The sight of them continued to make my knees weak, and I craved the touch of his lips so badly it hurt.
I broke the contact and stood up straight, “Well, I should get back to my area. Thanks for the coffee.”
He nodded, watching me closely. The expression on his face was a beacon calling me home. I lost myself in his stare.
“Have you ever wanted to do something, just one time, just to see what it was like, even though you know it’s wrong?” I whispered on the wind between us.
He pushed off the car slowly, took two small steps, and he stood just eight inches from me. “Every single time I see you.”
I could feel his breath on my face. “What do you want?” I breathed out slowly, leaning unconsciously towards him.
He advanced one more step. Our shirts touched over our thick Kevlar vests, our mouths just an inch away. “I want to kiss you, Corey.”
“Then do it, Mitch.”
There was no hesitation from either of us. The first graze put my mind in a tizzy; the second set my body on fire. His tongue gently touched the sensitive skin of my lips, unlocking the door, and I allowed him in. Softly, slowly, this kiss was a test. Would we pass?
He pulled back, opening up his heavy lids, “Well?”
“My knees are shaking,” I whispered.
“Mine, too,” he kissed me again. This time it deepened quickly as our mouths and tongues meshed together so naturally. The fingertips of one of his hands touched my thigh, and tingling ignited from my skin all the way to my bone. How could that happen?
My hand slipped into his, intertwining our fingers as his other one came to curl around my neck. I slid my other hand onto his head, finally daring to touch what I had ached to feel before. The short hair tickled the palm of my hand.
No other kiss had affected me the way this single one did. My heart sang, my body ached, and my mind went to war with what I was doing and feeling. I knew my actions were not right, but I wanted him so badly.
The kiss ended, our foreheads touched as we held hands and tried to harness the passion we had unleashed.
“I should go.” I pulled back. Heat glazed his face, and I knew the same was mirrored on mine.
Nodding slowly at me, he stepped back. “I’ll see you later, Corey.” Our fingers slipped away from each other’s.
“Be safe, Mitchell.” I turned to my car.
“You, too.”
“Always,” I smiled over my shoulder and climbed into the driver’s seat.
I was on cloud nine from the kiss, but found myself falling from the sky as I drove away. How could something that felt so good be so wrong?
~ Brock ~
The night hid me from view as I watched Corey and Mitch locked in a passionate embrace, the tense muscles in my back twitched. I wanted to use my persuasion to end it, but I didn’t. I stood motionless.
“I’m surprised you allowed that to happen, Brock.” The voice would have startled me if I had not already felt his presence enter behind me.
My arms crossed over my chest, I shrugged my wide shoulders.
“I do hope you don
’t allow her to continue. She could very easily cross the line and commit the sin of adultery.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw him step beside me. Hidden in the shadows of the building, we could not be seen, but even if we stood beside Corey and Mitch, they would not know of our presence unless we let them.
I scoffed at him, “You know as well as I do, she could commit all seven deadly sins and be accepted into our group with a simple apology. The Maker has waited a long time for her to join us.”
“So have you.”
I slowly turned my head to the man beside me. Montgomery was my Garda, my guardian, since before I joined the Realm, the place that was between heaven and Earth where those of us who worked as guardians could move between the two levels of life and death. We were the elite, warriors of a special type trained to guard the others that would walk among us or were destined to make a huge difference on Earth.
“Of course I have waited, she is my charge.” I turned back to the scene in front of me: Their foreheads resting together, content in this moment they shared.
“If you say so, but somehow I believe you have more invested in this guardianship than her just being your charge. There is the story, you know.”
“Whatever, Montgomery. Did you need something, or are you bored today?”
“Yes, I do need something, actually not me, we are being summoned for a meeting. I was sent to find you since you tuned yourself out when you entered this side.” He stepped back.
“Fine, I’ll be there in a moment.” I watched her walk away. I just wanted to make sure she got in her car and left.
“Brock, you know she is fine tonight. Come, we have business. She will be with you, I mean us, soon enough.”
I turned to glare at him over my shoulder, but he had already phased. I watched her car drive out of sight and turned to consider Mitch again.
There was a very tightly-woven connection between them. The stories of soul mates whispered in my mind, but I pushed it aside. If they were, then I wouldn’t stand a chance.
I watched him until he climbed into his car, wishing I could talk to him, but now was not the time.
I closed my eyes and phased back to the Realm.
Part 2 – The Death
~ Mitchell ~
The taillight of her car disappeared around the corner and with it a piece of my heart. I looked down at the cracked pavement. What am I doing?
Since the day I had met her, I had wanted to kiss those lips. I had dreamed of doing it a thousand times, not just dreams, but fantasies. She brought about feelings that I never knew could exist.
Were these just hormonal fantasies because of an unhappy marriage? Was it just because I thought she was beautiful? No. I meant yes, she was beautiful, but that could not be the reason.
I took our empty coffee cups over to the trash bin. Inside my car, I stared out the window, my head resting on the seat back. I closed my eyes.
I had never felt a kiss so deeply in my life. It wasn’t just one of passion, but one of possession. The moment we touched, she owned a part of me—or maybe we swapped a part of ourselves with each other. Did she feel the same that I did?
The radio broke me out of my mental conversation, and I put my car in drive to go assist one of my other units.
As I climbed out of the car to help Joe, I could still feel her lips on mine, her citrus scent strong in my nose. Would anyone else be able to smell her on me? I scanned my uniform: nothing noticeable.
We finished with our incident, and I walked back to my car. It had been thirty minutes since she had driven away, yet I somehow missed her. How was that possible?
Flipping up the laptop cover, I cycled through the waiting messages on my computer. The last one was from her, a simple “How?” typed on the screen. How what? How did this all happen? How did we end up standing in the parking lot kissing? How did I feel like she had sucked a piece of my very essence out of me with that first touch of her lips? How the hell was I supposed to know!
“I have no clue,” I typed back. I cleared the call I was on and pulled out onto the road to drive around. I glanced up the road that led to her township as I drove by the intersection.
“Me neither,” came to my screen a minute later. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, and I pulled into a dark parking lot.
“Do you regret it?” I typed. I almost backspaced to erase the message, but sent it before I chickened out. I pulled into a space near the back of the store lot, so I was facing the roadway, pretending to watch traffic.
The response that came down made my stomach flip anxiously, “No, you?”
I smiled, “No, no regrets.” I released a breath I didn’t know I had been holding.
We moved away from the topic then. In between calls, we chatted about different things for the rest of the night. As always, we kept the conversation of my marriage out of our chats.
Even with all that had happened between Beth and me the last year, I never really thought about the fact that our marriage could be over. Was it now?
I never believed in cheating on my spouse, I took my marriage vows seriously, and even when things weren’t great between us, I had never stepped over the line. Hell, I barely even flirted with anyone in the eight years Beth and I had been together.
Now, all I could think about was Corey, the feel of her skin under my hand, the elegant color of her eyes, and the softness of her lips. I was in so much trouble.
I leaned my head back against the headrest. What was I doing? Guilt tried to coil around my insides, but I pushed it away. I should not feel guilty, not after what Beth had done to me.
Was I justifying my feelings for Corey because of the wrongs that Beth had done against me? Feelings? Did I really have feelings for Corey?
Yes—undeniably so.
I craved her in a way I had never wanted another person, not just physically, but mentally. I wanted to see her, watch her face, hear her laughter, and talk to her for hours. Hell, we never had to have sex! I just wanted to be with her. Okay, so sex would be good, too, but I could live without it—maybe.
My fingers wiggled over the keyboard as I tried to get the courage up to ask her something. Three times I started typing and backspaced to erase the words I had written. Just as I was typing one more time, my computer beeped. I deleted the message I had typed and pulled up the one I received.
“I still owe you a ride in my Camaro,” Corey wrote. How did she know I was trying to suggest just that? Ironically, over the last few weeks, we did that quite often, typing the same words or feelings to each other at the same time. It was eerie how often we thought the same things.
“Name it,” I typed back quickly.
“What are you doing Thursday morning?” the bright white letters appeared on my charcoal screen.
“I have court at 8:30, but after I’m free,” I responded.
She sent me her cell phone number and told me to text her when I was done with court. The thought of being able to spend some time with her away from work excited me more than it should have.
With the dawn starting to crest the horizon, we said goodbye on the computer. All at once, I missed her. We had spoken for hours while we worked, and after tonight, I missed her more than I normally did when we said goodnight.
I picked up my cell phone and typed in the cell phone number she had given me. Saving it, I typed a quick text to her. “Here’s my number.”
I put the car in drive and moved back to my station. My shift was ending soon, too. As I climbed out of the patrol car, my phone vibrated in my hand.
“Got it! Thanks! Sleep well and I will see you on Thursday.”
"Enjoy your day off. I'm gonna miss not chatting with you."
"You have my number. You can chat with me anytime you want."
“I don’t want to bother you,” I typed back.
“You are never a bother. I’m here anytime you need me.” I could feel the smile in her words. I wanted to type back that I needed her now, but instead I just said goodnight a
nd forced myself to delete the chat from my phone.
Thursday rolled around and my court case couldn’t get done fast enough. I held off sending her any messages until I got to court. I was proud of myself for not sending the dozen messages the day before that I had started to type. We set up a place to meet, and I told her I’d let her know when I was clearing the courthouse.
An hour later, I drove my Harley into the parking lot near the mall. Her blacked out Camaro was backed into a spot just where she said she would be. I saw her sitting behind the wheel through the windshield as I pulled in.
My eyes swept over her as I climbed into the car. The turquoise tank top that she wore made her eye color appear lighter than normal and showed off her tanned skin. How would she react if I leaned over and kissed her right this second?
The Cheshire smile that crawled over her lips had me wondering if we were once again sharing the same thought. She looked out the front window and seemed to shake her head a bit.
“You have to promise me something,” she said as she put the car in drive.
“Sure, anything,” and I would promise her anything.
“Promise me that someday you will take me for a ride on your motorcycle,” she grinned as she pulled away.
“You like riding?” the thought of her arms encircling me from behind was a heady feeling, and one I had better put to rest before I got uncomfortable in the seat.
“Don’t know. I have never been on one.”
“What? You have never been on a motorcycle before?” Disbelief resounded in my voice. I was amazed; I had been riding motorcycles for so many years I sort of figured everyone had been on one.
She laughed, “I have never trusted anyone enough to allow them to drive me around.”
“So you trust me, huh?”
Her face took on a serious tone for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I do.” She glanced at me before directing her attention back to the traffic in front of her.
I would do everything I could to protect her. That is what police officers do, they protect, although my need to protect her seemed to be for a totally different reason than as described in our profession. I had feelings for her that grew deeper with each moment we spent together.
