by Anthology
It seemed the tunnels were now common knowledge. Granite City had let them fall into decay, but they could no longer be neglected. Sophia would have liked to see them restored, but now that they’d been used in a crime, they would probably be filled in.
FBI Special Agent Finn Callaghan had sat in on the interview. He had been particularly interested in Ethan. Both investigators were relentless, going over every detail again and again. Eventually, she had insisted they allow her to go home. She wasn’t a suspect. She was a victim and a witness, and they had no right to hold her. She had every intention of cooperating. After she got some rest and a change of clothes, she would return to answer more questions.
Mateo drove her to her apartment. She was grateful to have him with her, and not just for safety reasons. Although, if he hadn’t returned with her, she would’ve asked for a police escort. Ethan knew where she lived, and she had no doubt he could access her apartment at will.
She also needed to see Mateo and touch him; just knowing he was okay was a comfort. Every time she glanced at him, she said a prayer of thanks that he was alive.
Could he leave behind years of resentment? She didn’t know, and she didn’t have the capacity to think about it. Tomorrow she would wake up and face whatever the future would bring.
He walked her to her door. Taking the key from her hand, he unlocked it and went in ahead of her. She stood at the threshold, unable to do more than watch as he searched every room and checked the windows to make sure they were secure. Her home had always been a sanctuary, but not anymore.
Her place wasn’t huge, or fancy, but it was cozy and had all the amenities she needed. There was a small kitchen with a laundry room attached. A living room with a gas fireplace, and two bedrooms, one with an en-suite bathroom. Another full bathroom was positioned near the front door. Pale morning light streamed through the patio doors that led to the balcony from the living room. It was hard to believe everything that had happened in the last twelve hours.
“All clear.” Mateo ushered her in and closed the door behind her. A dark circle shadowed his one good eye. With the beating he had taken, she marveled he was still standing.
“You should go to the hospital.” He had done his duty and seen her home safely. Now he could leave and get checked out.
She didn’t wait for him to answer but instead walked to her room, shedding her clothes along the way. Ridding herself of the bloodstained and torn pantsuit was suddenly a priority. She had tolerated it through her interrogation, but now that she was home, she couldn’t stand it a moment longer. She turned the water on in the shower, making it as hot as she could take it, and stepped under the spray.
Finally, she was alone and could release her fear, anger, and her absolute revulsion at witnessing two murders. Standing under the water, she allowed the horror of the day to wash over her. She felt the tension ease from her spine, but flinched when the cascade touched the bruises on her face. An unwanted sob erupted from her throat.
Suddenly, the curtain was pulled back, and Mateo climbed in. He stood before her naked; bruises covered his abdomen and his discolored face. His right cheek was swollen and tinged with purple, black, and blue. A small cut sliced his lip and another dissected his right eyebrow.
“I don’t want…” She couldn’t think about sex right now. She was too raw. Her emotions were stripped bare, as bruised as her body.
“I know.” He wrapped his arms around her. “I thought I’d lost you.” He ran a hand down her spine, soothing her, offering her the support she desperately needed. She knew she shouldn’t trust him. In the morning, he would be gone and they would go back to being acquaintances who exchanged a polite nod in passing. But tonight her nerves were frayed, as though every bit of strength she possessed had been wrung out of her, leaving her ragged and worn.
“I’m just…” She was just what? How could she articulate her devastation? She couldn’t. She’d met enough victims to know that time would reveal the long term effects of her trauma—and his trauma.
He kissed her hair. “Let me stay. I won’t be able to sleep unless I know you’re safe.”
He grabbed her body wash from the side of the tub and squeezed a large amount into his hand. He worked the liquid into a lather and then said, “Turn around.”
She did as she was told, thinking he needed some privacy. Firm, soapy hands caressed her neck, working down her spine in a circular motion. He seemed absorbed with covering her with suds. He lifted her arms one at a time and used the same gentle caress all the way to her fingertips. Then he knelt behind her and soaped her legs. For a moment the image of Old Man searching her body resurfaced, but he banished it when he said, “Face me.”
She obeyed.
He worked his way up her body, paying special attention to her breasts. Finally he held her close and stepped back with her, placing both of them under the full force of the spray to rinse off.
Now it was her turn. Making sure to use an extra helping of body wash, she started at his neck and worked her way to his shoulders. His tattoos were fascinating. Gray roses spiraled down his right arm and stopped at his elbow. In the center of his back was an image of Lady Justice, holding a scale in one hand and a sword in the other. She scrubbed them clean and then worked her way to his butt. She lathered a soapy trail between his legs.
He sucked in a breath, cursed, and turned to face her. His erect penis nudged at her leg. “Honey, if we keep going, my dick is going to take control. I don’t think either of us are in any shape to deal with that right now.”
She held his battered and swollen face, his rough stubble prickly against her palms. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital? I can drive you.”
She wasn’t sure she had enough strength to drive anyone anywhere, but she knew enough about him, remembered enough, to know he wouldn’t ask for medical help unless he really needed it.
He shook his head. “No I just need to hold you.”
She shut off the water and then nodded.
He grabbed a towel from the rack and rubbed her body, drying her. She stood watching, feeling detached from reality. He was alive. He had survived the beating and the fire.
She made her way to her bedroom and grabbed a nightshirt from her bureau then tugged it over her head. It was really just a large misshapen T-shirt with a frayed hem that came down to her thighs. But it was the most comfortable piece of clothing she owned. Then she climbed into bed and lay on her side, curling into a protective ball.
The mattress sagged as Mateo sat on the edge next to her. Beside him on the nightstand was his gun and badge. He must’ve put them there before he got in the shower.
He lay on his side and looped his arm around her. Then he rearranged their bodies so she was nestled in the crook of his neck. Light from the rising sun bounced off her dresser mirror, illuminating her closet door. Once again, she was struck by how familiar everything felt, which was at odds with her feelings. Her world had been upended. She was no longer safe in her own home. On the other hand, being here with Mateo seemed normal as though this was where he was meant to be.
Once again, a warning echoed through her mind. She should tell him to leave. He would break her heart. She was a defense attorney and he thought of her as the enemy. But she kept silent. After everything that had happened, she wanted him here.
When she woke up, he would probably be gone, and she would go on without him. She would find the strength to face the world with a smile, even if it killed her. Maybe she should move away from Granite City…but she liked it here. She had built her practice, had a great working relationship with her colleagues, and enjoyed the vibrant energy of the city. Starting over would be a bitch, but she could do it…if she had to.
Mateo ran a finger over her forehead. “Stop thinking.”
“I can’t,” she murmured, but her voice sounded sleepy. The noise of downtown traffic drifted into the bedroom. Her fridge hummed and the apartment building creaked. Beside her, Mateo’s breathing grew eve
n and steady.
She would deal with her future tomorrow. Mateo was with her, asleep in her bed, and that was enough for now.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sophia woke to an empty bed. He’d left. She’d known he wouldn’t stay, but couldn’t stop the desolate ache that seemed to touch every ounce of her being. When they’d been hostage, he had tried to protect her. More than once he had put himself between her and the bank robbers. He was brave, caring, and like her, committed to the justice system. How could she not fall for him?
Her throat tightened. She wouldn’t cry, not today. She refused to be a weepy shell, pining for him. Even if he was the finest man she would ever meet.
She forced herself to sit up and throw off the covers. In a perfect world, she could curl up in bed and hide, but that wasn’t an option. Captain Tate and Special Agent Callaghan wanted to continue their interrogation. She’d told them everything last night, but they seemed to think she had additional information. She doubted they suspected her. It was more likely they wanted to go over everything she had told them and make sure she hadn’t left anything out. Sometimes witnesses remembered details days or weeks after the event.
She also had to contact her office and have Jane reshuffle her appointments. Wait, was it Saturday, Sunday or Monday? She padded bare foot to the bathroom and found her smartwatch on the counter. It was three o’clock on Saturday. Good God. Their ordeal had started on Friday evening. By her estimate, it was close to midnight when Old Woman, who was really Ethan, had taken her through the tunnels. So she must have been interrogated until dawn that morning. It was hard to believe so much had happened since Thursday night.
She had bathed last night but hadn’t taken the time to blow-dry her hair. It had dried naturally while she slept. One glance in the mirror told her it was a crazy mess, sticking up at odd angles as if she’d been plugged into an electrical outlet. Once again, the urge to go back to bed overwhelmed her, but she forced herself to climb into the shower. Be strong. Those words would become her new mantra.
Normally, she didn’t bother too much with her appearance, especially when it came to dressing for work. It was actually better if she dressed down and wore one of her pantsuits. Some of her clients were just plain creepy. She’d learned over the years that a smart, professional, plain look worked better than words to convey the message that she was in court for business not pleasure. Today, however, she needed to feel attractive so she chose her sexiest underwear, a silk black matching set that included bra, panties, and garter belt. She covered them with a slim-fitting, black, sleeveless sheath dress. She even took the time to straighten her flyaway hair and apply makeup to cover her bruises.
A last look in the mirror told her that outwardly, at least, she seemed whole. She sucked in a breath and stood tall. At heart, she was a fighter. She would get through this.
The smell of coffee hit her the moment she opened her bedroom door. Had Mateo made coffee and then left? The nerve of the man. She stopped and listened. Someone was in the kitchen. Her stomach fluttered as she inched closer.
“There you are. I heard the shower and made breakfast. I assume you like eggs. They were in the fridge.” He smiled, and her heart did a little flip.
“I thought you left.” She stepped closer.
“I did. I had to go to my place and get some clean clothes. I hope you don’t mind I borrowed your keys.” The right side of his face was still mottled and swollen. He wore a white T-shirt that stretched over his taut muscles and revealed an intricate pattern of roses that swirled from his right elbow up and under his short shirtsleeve.
“That’s not what I meant. I thought…” You’d abandoned me. There was no way she would say that aloud. She tried a different approach. “Why are you here?”
He removed the pan of eggs from the burner and turned to her. His appraisal was long and slow. His gaze took in her legs, working his way until his eyes met hers. “Wow, you look fantastic. I mean, you’re always beautiful, but…wow.”
She could see the heat in his dark eyes, and her body responded. Her heartbeat raced. She licked her suddenly dry lips. A small voice in her head told her to resist, but that wasn’t what she wanted. This was Mateo. The man who had put himself between her and danger, who had cared for her. Whatever had happened in the past was over. She could no longer hold on to her anger. She loved him. It was as simple as that.
He hadn’t answered her question, but instead turned back to the stove. He picked up the frying pan and used a slotted spoon to divide the eggs between two plates that already held buttered toast. “You should eat, and then we’ll talk.”
She didn’t want to eat. Her stomach was jittery and tense. The stress of the last couple of days and dealing with their growing sexual tension was too much. The robbery might be over, but she still had to cope with whatever was going on between them.
“Are you going to leave?” Part of her wished she hadn’t asked the question. She wanted him to stay, even if it was just for a moment, but there was no way she could ignore her fears or the damage he would do to her soul if he left.
He stepped toward her. “I’m staying.”
His voice was so low she wasn’t sure she heard him. “What are you saying?”
Using his fingertip, he brushed her hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear.
Her breathing hitched at his touch.
“We are going to go the distance. I mean marriage, children, growing old together, everything.” His hand trailed across her cheek, under her chin, and down her neck.
“You’re going too fast for me.” She swallowed and grabbed his hand. She couldn’t think when he was stroking her, seducing her. More importantly, she wasn’t sure she could trust this change of heart.
“You don’t want children?”
“Yes…no…one day, but not today. And-and…” How could she explain how she felt without being completely vulnerable? “You don’t like me.”
He shook his head. “Yes, I do. Look, I get that you don’t trust me. I was so focused on putting the bad guys away, I couldn’t see the whole picture.”
“I loved you…and you…” She closed her eyes. She didn’t want him to see her pain, but knew it was too late.
He kissed her cheek. It was a simple peck, but once again heat flooded her body. She opened her eyes and placed her hands on his chest, feeling his warm muscles under her fingers. “Every time you’re near, I want you to make love to me. Why is that? I wish things were different. I wish—”
He grasped her by the waist and placed her on the kitchen counter. Then he grabbed her ankles and folded them around his hips, securing his position at the apex of her thighs. “It’s not the declaration of love I want, but it’s a start. If sex is the only thing we have in common, then I’m going to take full advantage of it.”
He grabbed her under the knees and slid her forward so her butt rested on the edge of the counter. Then he slowly eased her dress up, scraping her sensitive inner thighs as his fingers traced her garter belt.
“Please don’t send me away,” he begged.
She couldn’t respond. A shiver of pleasure racked her body. This wasn’t fair. She was aroused, whereas he seemed to be in control, logical, and was using her weakness for his benefit. She reached between them and unzipped his fly, intending to excite him and level the playing field. But then his engorged penis sprang free. He wasn’t as unaffected as she’d thought.
“You’re not wearing any underwear.” The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them. “Do you always go commando?”
He smiled as he flicked the crotch of her panties aside and brushed his thumb over her clitoris. “This is a special occasion.” He kissed down her neck as his clever hands continued to excite her.
She groaned and threw her head back. Her breasts were sensitive, pushing against the confines of her bra.
Finally, his finger found her vagina. “You’re ready.”
She was sopping wet. “Take off my underwear.” I
t was supposed to be an order, but sounded more like a plea.
He did as he was told, stepping back as he slid them down her legs. Then he shoved his jeans down so they pooled around his knees.
Once again he wrapped her legs around his waist, leaving her open and defenseless, the tip of his penis resting against her opening.
He kissed her. It was a long passionate kiss. Their tongues twined, sending another frisson of pleasure cascading through her. She groaned into his mouth and eased forward. She wanted to feel him inside her, needed to impale herself onto his throbbing cock.
In one hard thrust, he was in her up to the hilt. He stilled. “Was I too rough?” His voice was strangled as if uttering the words had cost him.
“No, don’t stop.” She grabbed his butt, enjoying the feel of his smooth cheeks, and pulled him toward her, driving him deeper.
He cried out and thrust into her, plunging in again and again. He set a steady, unhurried pace. His mouth closed over her nipple. The sensation of him suckling her through the fabric of her dress pushed her closer to the edge.
She heard someone screaming, but it sounded far away, and then she realized it was her voice crying out, yelling one word over and over, “More, more, more...”
The rhythm changed, becoming urgent, harsher. He pounded into her. His cries matched hers as they raged on toward oblivion.
“Can a man die from too much sex?” The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room. Mateo’s stomach grumbled, reminding him that neither of them had eaten. They had made love four times in a row, and he needed a break.
He hadn’t meant for them to end up in bed, not this time. She’d been so shattered last night. He’d only intended to care for her, but they seemed to have an overpowering physical need for each other. “I shouldn’t have judged you all those years ago. I should have taken the time to understand.”
