Manhattan Flame (A Bridge & Tunnel Romance Book 2)

by Gibson, Mira

  There were two dark stains on the knees of her jeans. She touched the left and her kneecap zinged. Her fingertips, she realized glancing at them, were damp with blood.

  “From the fall,” she supplied and Kevin rose off the couch and took her hand, examining her palm, which was bruised, purple.

  “You hit the ground hard,” he concluded, standing.

  “I should get changed.”

  “Do you have any disinfectant?”

  “Probably,” she said, getting to her feet, which brought her chest-to-chest with him in the cramped space. “It doesn’t hurt,” she softly added.

  “That’s good.”

  As she made her way to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, Kevin followed tightly behind.

  “Damn,” he said under his breath, glancing around at the comically small bathroom.

  The sink was practically angled over the toilet and the shower was so close that its plastic curtain billowed into the medicine cabinet.

  “It’s called affordable,” she stated. “I can’t stand living with anyone else.”

  She found a tube of Neosporin and a box of Bandaids and set them on the porcelain sink counter, but Kevin, maneuvering around her in a way that had him brushing up against her, took the items and told her to have a seat.

  She smirked, because he’d forgotten one critical step.

  “I should change out of these jeans,” she said, but he was already setting the items on the sink and taking hold of her waistband.

  Her breath hitched in her throat as he made gentle work of popping the button loose. When he drew the zipper down, she let out an unsteady exhale, their faces very close to one another, nearly cheek-to-cheek.

  With her jeans undone, he gave them a little tug downward and Tasha instinctively draped her hands over his shoulders for balance.

  She was glad she’d put some thought into her underwear that morning. As he worked the stretch denim over her hips and slid her jeans down her thighs, lowering onto his knees, he realized the lavender, lace panties she was wearing. She thought she heard him groan softly at the sight.

  Feeling his cool breath against her legs, she stepped out of her shoes and jeans, one foot at a time, as Kevin assisted her and in the next moment he tossed the garment into the hallway and began grazing his big, warm hands up her thighs from where he was kneeling.

  She looked down at him, watched his hands caress her, studied his thick mop of dark hair, getting a bit lost in the shape of his muscular shoulders, the way his shirt clung tightly around his arms.

  He lifted up enough to find the Neosporin in the sink and as she stood before him in her panties and flowing tee shirt that hung just shy of her waist, he began dabbing disinfectant on her knees.

  This was crazy. She was about to... what? Sleep with a cop? Or was it perfect? Was it just what she needed? It felt like more than that. She wasn’t deluding herself into thinking she knew him well or at all, but Tasha had seen a big enough glimpse into who he really was—kind, brave, willing to go up against a crime family and his precinct for God’s sake in order to find justice and keep her safe. She didn’t just want this. She wanted him and her bed seemed so far away because of it.

  She plowed her fingers through his hair and he glanced up, catching her hand, as he stood.

  He studied her palm then brought her other hand up so he could compare them. She watched, noting that her left hand looked much worse than the right.

  “We should’ve iced it,” he said softly.

  “I’ll live.”

  He met her gaze, holding her hands. “I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

  She exhaled a soft, moaning breath and felt every part of her melt as she drifted into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and feeling his warm hands holding her waist.

  He leaned in and their lips met, as his hands traveled her body, caressing down her hips, down her thighs and up again, squeezing her ass.

  She let out a surprised moan, feeling him massage her. Then he slid his fingers under the lace of her panties.

  Soon he pulled back so he could look at her, but her eyelids were heavy with arousal.

  “Since I saw you walk into my precinct,” he said softly. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

  “Have you ever been with someone like me?” she asked in a breathy whisper.

  “No,” he said easily. “But that’s because you’re one of a kind.”

  He held her close and kissed her for a long moment, causing her to flush hot with a wave of tingles fluttering through her that culminated between her legs. She was burning for him, aching, and could feel him stiffening beneath his jeans where his hips pressed against hers.

  She needed to get him out of this bathroom, but twining her fingers through his hair, exploring the velvety curves of his mouth, feeling his cool breath on her cheek as they kissed, wasn’t something she wanted to interrupt.

  He groaned then broke free, saying, “I want you.”

  Taking his hand, she led him up the short hallway into the main space. As she came to the edge of the bed, he grasped the hem of her tee shirt, lifting it up and over her head. From behind, he cast the garment to the floor and his hands cupped her chest, the thin lace of her bra still between them.

  She leaned against him, relishing the feel of his strong body behind her, and when he stepped back, he quickly unfastened her bra. As it fell, his warm hands returned to her breasts, cupping and squeezing gently in a massage that made her wet and her knees weaken.

  He began kissing the side of her neck, his fingers teasing her nipples, and soon his right hand traveled down the length of her stomach, slid under the modest triangle of lavender lace, and grazed downward so slowly—the lightest touch—that she began aching for him, hot and wet and throbbing between her legs.

  Reaching back, Tasha felt his jeans, the button, the zipper, managing with fumbling hands to get them undone, as he explored deeper between her legs, sliding his warm fingers along the length of her slippery labia and at times gently circling her clitoris.

  She reached down his jeans and felt his hard erection beneath his briefs. She squeezed him, smiling at his girth, exploring the length of his penis, and moaning at her discoveries.

  She wanted him inside of her. She was dying to feel his thick erection press into the tight, wet sheath of her body, the friction it would stir up, the thrilling surprise his dimensions would inspire.

  Kissing her neck softly, Kevin guided her to face him and her first instinct was to tug his shirt up and over his head. As she freed him of the garment, letting it fall away, she drank in the sight of his muscular chest, the fine dusting of dark hair between his pecs, the smooth wall of his stomach.

  She grasped hold of his biceps, feeling how hard and sculpted they were, as she glanced down at his open jeans, his black briefs, and his pronounced erection beneath that threatened to poke out from the waistband.

  Grasping her breasts, he groaned, “I like these,” and she smiled.

  “Take off your pants,” she suggested.

  He did, taking a few steps back and kicking his boots off one at a time, wrestling his jeans down. They were inside out by the time his feet were free and it made her smirk.

  She took hold of his hips and hooked her fingers under the elastic band of his briefs, and firmly wrapped her hand around his hard penis.

  Groaning, Kevin angled his face near hers, as she stroked him slowly, loving the feel of him in her hand. She cupped his tight ass with her other hand and their lips met. His mouth felt slightly slack, an indication she was working him into such a state of arousal that he couldn’t quite think.

  She gave him a few quick pecks on the lips and cheek, as she guided him towards the bed, his thick erection in her hand.

  She sat, spreading her legs and gazing up at him. He looked amazing, all sculpted muscles and smooth skin, the dark dusting of stubble along his jaw accentuating his straight mouth, his hungry eyes.

  As she pulled
his briefs down, his penis sprung free, tapping softly against his hard abdomen. His mouth curled up at one corner.

  She locked eyes with him and brought his penis to her mouth, licking the tip and making him groan. His head drifted back then tilted as his eyelids went heavy, but he didn’t let her keep it up for long.

  “I’d like to last,” he told her with a breathy laugh. “It’s been awhile.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” she teased, shifting backward on the bed so he could join her. When her head met the pillows, she lifted her hips and he quickly helped her panties down her thighs.

  “A compliment,” he surmised. “I’ll take it.”

  “Good,” she breathed, but lost the thread of their banter when he spread her legs and lowered down onto his elbows, his cool breath meeting her silky labia.

  With his warm fingers, he parted her genitals and she moaned in anticipation.

  His hot, wet tongue licked the length of her.

  “Oh,” she breathed at the soothing contact.

  He licked her again, this time hovering over her clitoris and delivering soft circles with the tip of his tongue.

  She was aching so badly that she thought she’d lose her mind, but she began squirming instead, as he stroked his warm tongue along her vagina again and again.

  She heard him whisper, “If there’s something you don’t like, just tell me.”

  She liked all of it so far, she thought, relaxing into his artful tongue massage.

  Soon he settled his mouth over her clitoris and ever so gently slipped his finger inside of her. A long moan escaped her, as he began firmly massaging her, his mouth suckling her sensitive clit all the while.

  He was bringing her there. She could feel the tingling heat mounting deep inside, and though she was getting close, she didn’t want to come like this, not without his dick inside her.

  “Wait,” she blurted out and he stopped on a dime, looking up at her as if he’d done something wrong. “It’s good,” she said right away so he wouldn’t think he’d rubbed her the wrong way. “You feel really good, I just want you inside me.”

  He groaned as if the suggestion couldn’t have turned him on more and gave her another soft lick punctuated by a brief suck of her clitoris.

  Lifting up, Kevin sat back on his heels, his erection bobbing against his washboard abs.

  Quickly, Tasha yanked open a drawer on the bedside table and found a condom, tore the wrapper off, and sat up. As she rolled the latex over his hard penis, she said, “I have a feeling I’m going to like this thing.”

  Teasingly, he commented, “Well, Trojan is an excellent brand.”

  “I mean your cock.”

  His expression turned lustful and once the rubber was covering the length of him, he urged her down onto her back as he angled over her, his arms hooking under her shoulders, his body so strong that he was able to hold plank, every muscle flexing.

  He spread her legs and using a slow, calculating motion, Kevin stroked the hard tip of his penis along her slippery vagina.

  She moaned just feeling him. He wasn’t trying to find the right angle. He wanted to arouse her further, make her anticipate his penetration, and she loved it.

  Grabbing his hips and vaguely aware the action would seem like pleading, she gazed into his eyes and without words, insisted that he give it to her.

  He pressed in, his penis slowly filling her, stretching and soothing her aching vagina with its hard girth. He groaned, penetrating her deeper and deeper, and Tasha used short, fluttering breaths as her body acclimated to his size.

  “Oh God,” she moaned when he’d filled her completely.

  He held himself inside her and gave her a long, lingering kiss. As he drew back in favor of gazing down at her, his hips began moving.

  The friction, the wet heat of their bodies merging, made her melt and tense at once. He felt so good, thrusting with tight, quick motions and stirring up a fresh wave of mounting arousal.

  Every time he penetrated in, his pubic bone pressed firmly against her clit, causing her whole body to flare with hot tingles. And with each ascend, his penis drawing out again, she felt the rush building.

  In her ear, he whispered, “Slower? Harder? Tell me.”

  But she didn’t have words. The feel of him working her body, thrusting her into a state of pure bliss, had rendered her incapable of speech so she moaned, “You're so good,” before gathering her wits enough to ask, “How do you like it?”

  “Any way you do,” he said, as he continued thrusting, at times grinding so as to stimulate her clitoris for a healthy few seconds before resuming a firm series of thrusts. “What turns me on is getting you to climax.”

  Hearing him say that was almost enough to bring her over the edge. She held his hips tightly, feeling him pound into her. Her breasts jiggled every time he thrust in. She caressed his shoulders then drew her fingertips down his back, feeling sweat bead over his skin.

  God, he was sexy.

  Before she knew what was happening, he pulled her up as he sat back on his heels, Tasha straddling him, his erection deep inside and at such an entirely knew angle that she gasped out in surprise.

  He helped her arms drape over his shoulders and then held her tight, rocking and fucking her so deeply, his pubic bone pressing against her clit, the tip of his penis stimulating the hot spot inside of her in such a way that a fresh billow of arousal plumed in an instant—an orgasm swiftly building.

  She felt his fingertips traveling the length of her dewy back and as she tilted her head, savoring the feel of him inside her, Kevin wrapped his warm mouth around her breast and began suckling and flicking his tongue over her nipple.

  Moaning, she managed to get the words out, “I’m coming.”

  “Yeah?” he breathed.

  Her chest began heaving, moans stuttering out, as she rode him, working the perfect angle. Suddenly a swell of tension mounted deep inside of her and sensing that she was on the verge, Kevin gazed up at her and whispered, “Come all over my dick, Tasha. You’re so fucking sexy.”

  That was all it took. As a powerful orgasm blossomed inside of her, coursing in waves through her loins, she cried out moaning and her body went limp in his arms.

  Overcome with pleasure, she was only vaguely aware of Kevin thrusting into her harder and faster and letting out a groan, his orgasm having mounted as well.

  As she calmed, he stroked her black curls off her face and looked into her eyes. She could still feel his erection throbbing deep inside of her, as he said, “That was insane.”

  She kissed him with little energy. Their lips pressed and held and they breathed in the scent of each other, and then Kevin guided her onto her back and curled her into his arms.

  He ran his fingers through her hair and soon Tasha was dozing off. When she woke minutes or hours later—it was too dark to tell—Kevin stirred beside her, his eyes cracking open and his hands finding her warm body. They maneuvered under the comforter, their bodies brushing against one another until ideas started to form.

  The night unfolded in a dreamlike series of naps and lovemaking. At times, Kevin made slow, sleepy love to her, and others he took her hard and rough in a way that actually calmed her.

  By the time the sun broke through the windows, brightening the purple curtains and filling the room, they had both stolen only a few hours of real sleep.

  She made coffee in the kitchen and brought him a mug. They gradually woke up with the help of caffeine and made small talk about how they planned to spend their days. Tasha had work, which she explained, noting the thoroughly dislikable personality of her boss, Hans Janz. And Kevin had plans to track down Alexi Vishnevsky and corner him into admitting his role in both stalking Tasha and the murder at the pier. He reminded her not to be alone and though she assured him that at least for today she wouldn’t be, Tasha knew it was a bold faced lie.

  “I’m going to an art opening tonight,” she mentioned, as they trekked down the five flights of stairs in her buil
ding. “A few of my friends will be there, Greer Langley who’s a sculptor and my other friend, Jennifer Okimoto who’s a painter.”

  Kevin smirked at her as he held the door open. “You say their last names as if I should know who they are.”

  “Some people do,” she pointed out, stepping onto the sidewalk. “Though I guess they’re all in the art world. It’ll be fun. Free wine. And Greer’s boyfriend will be there. Hunter Black?”

  Again he smiled, clueless about who Hunter Black was. “What time?”

  “I think we’re going to meet around seven, but I can let you know.”

  He took hold of her hand, as they made their way down the block towards the subway.

  Tasha noticed some of the neighborhood locals were shooting them sideways glares. This block in Harlem was filled with African-Americans. If someone here was white, it was because they were either lost or just passing through, and the looks she was getting were meant to make her feel like some kind of traitor. She didn't.

  When they reached the downtown subway, he kissed her then mentioned, “I’m going to walk across town to my apartment. You’ll be okay riding the train?”

  “With a hundred other people?” she teased. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. And I’ll be at work at the studio until I meet Greer and Jennifer at the gallery, so I’m covered. Stay safe, okay?”

  Squeezing her hand, he gave her another kiss, this time lingering as if he didn’t want to see her go.

  She urged him back, smiled, and then padded down the subway steps into the station.

  She kept her wits about her and her eyes peeled for her stalker as she waited for the train. When it came, she was sly about finding a vacant seat, but gradually as the train flew through the tunnel her guard lowered.

  Her walk to the photography studio was a short three blocks across TriBeCa. When she arrived, she poured a cup of coffee from the craft services table and soon the day was in full swing.

  Hans was a jerk, but not worse than usual, and often Tasha reminded herself that with her brand new camera she would soon have the shots she needed to nail her exhibition, sell some prints, and hopefully worm her way out of this dismal assistant position.