by C. S. Poe
“A-Are you okay?” I asked.
He looked over at me and let out a breath, like he’d been holding it. “Yeah. I’m fine. Are you? Do you need me to get a nurse?”
“No.” I fiddled with the blanket. “Why are you here? It must be late.”
Calvin raised his watch, squinting and frowning before pulling his cell out and checking the time. “It’s three.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
He looked back at me. “I didn’t want you here alone.”
“You look tired,” I said in response.
He smiled, and that chiseled, handsome face seemed to light up. “A little. I’m okay, though.”
“You can lay with me,” I said, not even processing the offer.
“What?”
I refused to back out. What did I want with Neil? Nothing, maybe. He deserved to know that—that I was done fighting to right a capsized ship. But what did I want with Calvin? Right now, in that moment, I just wanted to hold him.
I carefully moved closer to the edge of the bed, freeing the space nearest his chair and pulling the blankets back. “Hurry up. This gown isn’t exactly keeping me warm,” I said with a quiet chuckle.
Calvin turned his head to the closed door, eyeing it a moment before standing. He dropped his coat on the chair, wordlessly climbed onto the bed, and stretched out on his side next to me.
“Come closer,” I said, moving my arm to accommodate him.
Calvin put his head on my chest and rested his hand on my neck, rubbing his thumb against my stubble. I put mine in his hair, combing my fingers through the thick, fiery redness and wishing more than ever that I could experience the color.
“I can’t stay here,” he whispered.
“It’s okay,” I murmured. “Just relax.”
That made him laugh, but I didn’t know why.
“How’s your head?”
“Better than earlier.”
He hummed in response, moving his hand down to take my other. He slid his fingers through mine and squeezed lightly.
“That hand feels awfully familiar.”
He snorted. “You kept asking for Millett.”
“What did you expect?”
Calvin shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing less.”
“You smell good.”
“Yeah? It’s called forty-eight-hour shift.”
“I take it back. You need a shower.”
He chuckled, and it really was a nice laugh. “I forgot to compliment your dress. It really brings out the color of your eyes.”
“Ass.”
“No, but several people saw yours.”
I grumbled.
“I saw,” Calvin continued.
“Oh? Acceptable?”
“Very,” he purred.
It was my turn to laugh, and I tightened my hold on him. I looked down, staring at our locked hands and studying the splatter of freckles across his skin. “I love your freckles.”
“Funny.”
“I’m not teasing,” I answered.
Calvin raised his head, and with his face so close to mine, I could make out all of his rugged beauty. Handsome, classic-looking—a study of monochromatic artwork.
I freed my hand from his to touch his cheek, tracing the spots with my fingertip. “I think you’re one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen,” I whispered. I carefully moved my finger to his lips. “Freckles on your lips too.”
Calvin smiled lopsidedly. “Everywhere,” he agreed.
“I hoped so.”
He stared at me a moment longer before leaning in and gently pressing his mouth to mine. Our tongues met and caressed while his fingers toyed with my nipple through the hospital gown. My breathing hitched, and he tenderly nipped my lower lip.
I moaned.
“Like that?” he whispered, pinching the nipple.
I sucked in a breath. “Yeah.”
Calvin kissed me again, taking his time as he explored my mouth. His hand left my chest and moved down to rub my stiffening cock. “Want me to finish?”
“Y-You don’t need to,” I managed, fighting every screaming nerve in my body.
He grinned and pushed the blankets aside. Calvin moved down the hospital bed enough to tug my gown up and take my entire length into his hot, perfect mouth. He bobbed up and down, finding just the right speed and pressure I needed.
It didn’t take long. I was tired and pent up and halfway to coming before he even put his mouth on me. I bit my knuckles to keep from crying out, weakly thrusting up and pushing his head down at the same time.
“Cal,” I whispered. “Oh God….” My stomach muscles tightened, and my skin prickled with sweat all over. I was standing on the ledge, closer, closer, ready to fall off, waiting for the final push—and then there was an explosion and I was tumbling, screaming all the way down.
Calvin had his hand over my mouth as he milked the last of my orgasm. He raised his lips from my softening erection, licking them. “No crying out,” he said with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Not here, anyway.” He pulled my gown back down and put the blankets back over us.
I grabbed his shirt, tugged him back to me, and kissed him, tasting myself on him. “What about you?” I asked against his lips.
“I’m fine.” He smiled and stroked my hair gently before lying down against my chest again.
I was dimly aware of the press of his erection against my leg, but I was sated and tired and so was he, and I fell into one of the most comfortable sleeps I’ve had in a long time.
Chapter Eight
“YEAH, POP,” I said, talking on the phone the next morning. I sat in the chair beside the hospital bed, tugging my shoes on. “Cal—er, Detective Winter was already here. He’s driving me home.” I glanced up.
Calvin stood patiently by the door, winter coat on and his hands in his pockets.
“I’m feeling a lot better. All right. I’ll call you after I get some rest at home. Thanks, Dad.” I hung up and slid the phone into my pocket. “Sorry about that.”
“No trouble.”
When I had woken up, Calvin wasn’t in the hospital bed with me anymore, which was surprisingly depressing. I was beginning to worry about what we had done when Calvin appeared in the doorway. He looked awake and refreshed and was wearing different clothes.
“Hey,” he had said, smiling. “I spoke with your doctor. He’s on his way to check on you. Want a ride home?”
I had been given a clean bill of health early that morning and insisted on leaving right away. Dressed in yesterday’s clothes, I went to the door with Calvin.
He handed me my sunglasses. “I got these from your store yesterday.”
“Thank you.” I put them on. “Hospital lighting is the worst.” I followed Calvin out into the hallway. “Where did you go this morning?”
“Oh. Home. Shower and shave.” He rubbed his cheek to stress his point.
“You didn’t have to come back,” I protested. “Don’t you have to get to work anyway?”
“Don’t worry.” Calvin put a hand on my shoulder and steered me down another turn toward the exits.
“I appreciate it. Neil was going to drive me, but….”
“What?”
“I don’t know if I can deal with seeing him right now.”
“I see.” He didn’t push the subject, and I was grateful.
It was still snowing when the hospital doors slid open and we walked out. Cars parked overnight were buried. The driveway had been plowed and salted for the arriving ambulances, and bless those poor guys who were driving in this weather.
“Over here,” Calvin called, leading the way to a Ford Fusion in some dark color.
“I like this car,” I said, opening the passenger door.
“Do you?” He climbed in behind the wheel.
“Affordable,” I said as I got in.
“Yeah.” He turned the heat on and adjusted it for a moment before cranking on the windshield wipers. “Warm enough?”
“Getting ther
e. Are you able to drive? I mean, the mayor banned driving the other day.”
“Yeah, it’s likely to be in effect again by tonight.” Calvin pulled out and exited the hospital. “These storms aren’t giving us a break.” He glanced at me. “But yeah, I’ve got a badge and a gun. I can do a lot of things.”
I snorted. “Jerk.”
He grinned.
I settled back in my seat, watching the frozen, buried city pass by. “Hey,” I said suddenly. “I meant to tell you something the other day.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“You started sucking my cock.”
“Oh.”
I patted my coat, reached inside, and removed the envelope that I’d gotten in the mail. “I got this letter Wed—no, Thursday. In the mail. No return address or anything, but it’s addressed to the Emporium.”
“What does it say?” Calvin asked, not looking away from the road.
I gingerly opened the letter once more. “‘I must not only punish, but punish with impunity.’” I looked at Calvin. “I don’t know if this means anything about… anything, but it’s strange.”
“Is that all?”
“Yeah.” I put the letter away. “Does it mean something to you?”
He was reluctant, but eventually nodded. “Yes.”
“Really? What?”
“‘The Cask of Amontillado.’”
“The Cask—that’s another Poe story.” I swore under my breath. “I should have realized.”
“Have you read that one? I had to search the phrase.”
“I think I have. Isn’t that the one where a man walls up his enemy?”
“Yes,” Calvin answered.
I hesitated over my next question. “Did Mike get the same letter?”
Again, Calvin just said, “Yes.”
“Jesus.” I looked out the side window. “He’s going to kill me.” The statement was some sort of terrifying revelation. “He actually tried yesterday.”
“No one is going to kill you,” Calvin said sternly. “And yesterday he failed.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Don’t argue with me, baby.” Calvin glanced sideways briefly. “No one is going to hurt you again.”
It was difficult to not fight him, to point out that he couldn’t be around 24/7, but I didn’t have the energy to complain. And besides, having him be so defensive of me was sort of nice.
“Sebastian?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you know anything about African greys?”
“Come again?”
“The parrot.”
I turned to Calvin and sort of laughed. “No, should I?”
“Just curious.”
“Why?” When he didn’t answer, I kept pressing. “Does this have to do with the case?”
“I can’t discuss it.”
“You’ve discussed other points with me.”
“And I shouldn’t have.”
That irked me. “Yeah well, I don’t know anything about parrots.”
“All right.”
I let out an annoyed sigh and looked at him again. How unlike Neil. No fighting, no bitching, and he didn’t give me fuel to continue being an asshole. “My dad,” I said reluctantly. “He volunteers at a lot of pet shelters. I know one deals in exotic animals. I could ask him for the contact information. Maybe they can help.”
He smiled. “I’d like that. Thank you.”
I was home not much later, shoving open the front door and ushering Calvin in. “I need to take a shower,” I said while locking the door. “Uh, but if you need to go….” I glanced back at the door.
Why would he stay? He’d been with me all night, drove me home, and the man didn’t—
“I can stay for a bit.” Calvin unbuttoned his coat. “Go freshen up.”
One hot shower, a shave, and brushing of the awful taste out of my mouth later, I felt practically human. I popped in my red-tinted contacts and pulled on a pair of loose old Levi’s and a dark-colored long-sleeve shirt.
Opening the bedroom door, I stepped into the front room. “Look at me, good as new.”
Calvin was standing among the boxes of estate books, looking over my bookcase. His jacket was neatly draped over a chair at the table. “How do you feel?” he asked, turning my way.
“Like a crisp twenty-dollar bill.”
He shook his head, and I think he was laughing quietly. “You hungry?”
I shrugged, rubbing my stomach as it perked up at the mention of food. “I’ll get something later.”
“I can make breakfast.”
“What? No. Come on. You don’t need to do that.”
“I’m hungry too.” Before I could protest, Calvin was walking into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and leaned down to rummage around. “You should go shopping.”
“I did the other day, remember?”
“I recall frozen pizza and ice cream.”
“That’s right. I was having a crisis of the heart,” I said, standing in the doorway.
Calvin looked at me and smiled. “How’s the heart now?”
It actually was beating hard and making nervous flips all the way down to my gut. “O-Okay,” I managed.
He grabbed a carton of eggs and some onion and potatoes. “Scrambled eggs and home fries good?”
“Toast too.”
Calvin nodded and set the ingredients on the counter. He opened the cupboards, moving around like he knew my kitchen. He poured some oil into a pan and began chopping the potatoes.
I walked in and grabbed the bread off the top of the fridge. “So you can cook too?”
“You say that like you’re impressed.”
“I am.” I looked at him and grinned. “I never have guys cook me breakfast.”
“Millett doesn’t cook?”
“Ah, no, he doesn’t.”
Calvin nodded. “I like cooking.” He dropped the diced potato into the pan and added some spices.
I stupidly did nothing but put two slices of bread in the toaster before realizing coffee would be a good idea and started a pot. Watching Calvin was far too great a pleasure over offering to help. He had his sleeves rolled back, showing off the cords of muscles in his arms. He hummed quietly while he worked.
It was relaxing.
And honestly a little upsetting at the same time.
I was falling for him hard and fast. I liked Calvin. A lot. He was hot and smart and quickly becoming everything I’d wanted in a partner. But I had no idea how deep it went for him, and talking about it only felt like it would shatter the precious moment.
“Sebastian?”
I shook my head and glanced up to see him watching me. “What?”
He smiled in that cute, lopsided way. “Do you like onions, I asked.”
“Oh, sure.”
He added the chopped onion to the eggs. I grabbed jam from the fridge when the toast popped. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to fall in love with this little domestic moment. I’d always wanted this. Maybe it was stupid, but sharing the chores and cooking together, spending time with someone in a comfortable, understanding silence—that was what I wanted in life.
Toast sufficiently jammed, coffee perked, and eggs hot, we sat down to eat.
“How is it?” he asked, taking a bite.
“Really good. You want to come by and cook more often?”
Calvin smiled at that. “I find cooking to be relaxing. I need that sometimes.”
“I can imagine.”
He made a face and nodded, taking another bite.
I watched him for a moment. He seemed to have tensed up. “I thought you were an asshole when we first met.”
Calvin laughed. “And now?”
“You’re still an ass. But you’re a great cook, so you can see how I’m torn,” I teased.
“I thought you were a sarcastic shit and your mouth was going to get you in serious trouble.”
I arched a brow. “Oh boy. And how about now for me?”
“It’s still ear
ly.”
“What?”
Calvin took a sip of coffee. “Plenty of time left in the day to still get in trouble.”
I snorted and took another bite. “Have something planned for me?”
“I can think of a thing or two,” Calvin said.
I didn’t know how to respond to that. Would he think me dramatic if I asked about his feelings before sex? Because for sure I knew we were going to be fucking. It was only a matter of finishing toast and eggs. But were there any feelings to even be discussed?
I thought about the phone call I had made after being hit.
Sweetie.
Neil never called me sweetie. Or baby, for that matter.
I liked the names quite a bit. To me, though, they indicated some form of affection deeper than just lust.
I looked at Calvin again. What was I expecting from him? Passionate, mind-blowing sex? Yes. Absolutely, 100 percent, God please, yes. But my gut told me I wanted more. My heart told me I wanted more. My brain told me I was insane for even thinking it.
Dump Neil for Calvin.
Oh boy. Jumping out of a long-term relationship and immediately into a new one was a bad idea. Assuming Calvin even wanted a relationship. It was even more of a bad idea to get tangled up with the cop who’s investigating you—sort of. Was this a conflict of interest? Calvin didn’t seem to think so. At least, not conflict enough for sex.
I had no less than a million thoughts bouncing around in my head as breakfast was finished and cleared away. I went to the bathroom, grabbed a painkiller from the medicine cabinet, and downed it with cold tap water. When I exited, Calvin was standing in the front room, staring out the window that overlooked the street below.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked, glancing up.
“A lot better,” I replied. “Thanks for breakfast.”
“Of course. Thank you for letting me cook.”
I slowly stepped up to his side, glancing up at him. “So.”
“So?” he repeated.
“I’m ready to jump you, but I guess I’m nervous over whether I read the signs right.” I laughed.
Calvin turned fully to me and smiled. He reached out, cupped my face with his big hands, and kissed my mouth. He pressed his tongue against my lips, and I opened up to it, groaning when the touch sent electricity down my spine.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he whispered against my mouth.
