by Elle Casey
A second door slams behind me and I speed up my front walk, knowing what that sound means.
“Wait!” Lucky is coming from behind at a good clip.
“No!” I’m practically running by the time I get to my front door. I’m scrabbling in my bag, looking for my keys, when I hear the taxi drive away. I look up to confirm that it’s leaving the curb and find Lucky halfway to my front door. Dammit! Where are those frigging keys? I need a smaller purse.
I don’t even look at him as I speak. “You’d better just keep on walking around the side, Lucky.” My brother lives in a cottage behind the main house and Lucky can hang out there. He knows where the key is. We inherited the entire property from our parents, but Thibault let me have the larger dwelling. I didn’t protest much, because I like having a lot of space around me. And maybe someday when I’m fifty years old I might get married and have a bunch of dogs or something. No kids, though, thanks.
Kids and I don’t really get along. They make me uncomfortable. I never know what to say to them or do when they’re standing there just staring at me like they do. Jenny’s son Sammy is probably the only child I’ve ever felt comfortable around, and that’s maybe because he acts like a strange man in a little body. He’s more a character than a kid. Dev’s son isn’t so bad either, but I don’t see him much. Sammy, however, has almost become a regular fixture at the warehouse. His mother comes by to drop files off or pick them up and often has him in tow. I see him at least three times a week, and he always shakes my hand and calls me Miss Toni. Kid cracks me up.
Lucky’s voice forces my head back into the game. “I’m just making sure you’re okay.” Sand crunches between his feet and the concrete as he approaches. He’s smart enough to stop ten feet away.
“If you come any closer, I’m going to send your nuts up into your throat.”
Lucky shakes his head like he’s disappointed in me. “Why the hostility, babe? All I did was give you a kiss. There wasn’t even any tongue involved.”
I narrow my eyes to try to get a better look at him. He thinks he’s being funny, egging me on. This is so not like him. “Babe? Since when do you call me babe? Who are you, stranger, and what have you done with Lucky?”
It’s been a really long time since I’ve seen him act like this. Normally he’s subdued and keeps mostly to himself, but tonight he’s not only stealing kisses, he’s playing guardian angel and teasing, too, but only after moping at the bar looking like he wanted to drown his sorrows in alcohol. It must be the beer messing with his head. Or maybe it’s an aftereffect of working with Jenny.
May’s sister Jenny joined the team a few months back, and she and Lucky work together a lot. I think he was bored before she joined, but now he and Jenny have their own little team that’s kind of separate from the bigger one. These days, he comes to work earlier and stays later, and I’d be willing to bet she’s been psychoanalyzing him every other second she’s been with him. She’s the kind of person who likes to crawl into people’s heads and figure out what makes them tick. That’s why I’m very happy we don’t work together on projects. I like the things in my head kept private where they can’t scare anyone off.
I get how being on a team with her could make Lucky more open, more free with his words and his actions. Being a part of something special has changed my life, too. Lucky and Jenny hunker over their computers, whispering and laughing about the stuff they find there. It’s all a big mystery to me how they could enjoy what they do. Computers and I don’t get along very well. I prefer to be out in the field doing surveillance work. I try not to be jealous about the idea of Jenny getting so much of Lucky’s time. The fact that she’s head over heels in love with and loyal to our partner Dev makes it easier. I probably shouldn’t be getting jealous of anyone where Lucky is concerned, but I haven’t figured out how to stop my heart from doing what it wants.
“What do you mean? It’s me. Lucky. The guy you kissed in junior high.” He gives me what he thinks is a sly smile and winks. The light on my porch is illuminating his teeth, making them glow. He reminds me for a second of Skip from the bar, but then that image disappears. There’s no comparison. Lucky is . . . Lucky. There’s nobody like him.
I should probably stay pissed at him, but he’s so freaking adorable I can’t help forgiving him for pushing himself into my life tonight. Truth be told, it’s probably not a good idea that I be left to my own devices, what with the anniversary of my biggest sin so close, looming over my head. I hiss out a breath and shake my head, turning so he won’t see me smile back. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Why would I? It was the best day of my life.”
My ears start to burn at his words and my heart beats faster. Is he serious or is he messing with me? It’s weird how this physical reaction I’m having is very similar to the one I experience when I think I’m about to get caught by one of the bad guys we’re surveilling; talk about an adrenaline pump. Must be the teas. I shake my head to get it out of the clouds. No way could Lucky be serious. I would’ve known if he’d had feelings for me all this time.
I finally find my keys in the bottom of my bag and insert the right one into the lock. “Whatever.” I know he’s just saying this crap to be a good guy. Lucky is pretty brilliant; not much gets past him. Over the years he’s always been there, watching over my shoulder. Whenever he sees me getting hot under the collar, he steps in and says something stupid that manages to cool me off a little.
Before, I thought his little rescues were my imagination, but now I’m thinking that looking out for me has been his design all along. But why? Why would he do that? If he were into me, I’d know it, but he never gave me that impression. He’s always just been there in the background of my life. I don’t blame him for feeling sorry for me after all the mistakes I’ve made. I step in whenever I see someone doing something that could bring the team down, too.
I get the door open and step inside, holding the edge of it as I turn around to face him. “I’m fine now. You can go on about your business. Feel free to let yourself into Thibault’s place.” Everyone on the team knows where the hidden key is along with the code to the alarm.
I step the rest of the way into my house and begin to shut the door as I tap in the code that will deactivate my alarm system. Lucky comes forward to stand two steps away from the threshold. On any other day I would just slam the door shut in his face without another word and go straight to bed; but this is not just any other date on the calendar.
The anniversary of the day that changed my life forever is upon me, mere days away. I can feel it like a heavy cloak over my shoulders, hot and uncomfortable, something I wish I could take off, but can’t. The closer it gets, the more I feel like I have to struggle to breathe. Every year I nearly suffocate on the memory of killing my ex-boyfriend, Charlie. It may be the reason why I had three too many Long Island iced teas tonight. I hate being alone when Charlie is haunting me so strongly.
“Let me in.” He takes another step forward.
So tempting . . . I shake my head. “No, I’m going to bed. Alone. Go away.” My grip on the door tightens. I should just shut it. I should just walk away.
He takes another step, his foot rocking on my threshold. “I want to come in, though. I want to talk to you.” He sounds serious, which gives me pause.
I cock a hip and rest the length of my arm to my elbow on the edge of the door. “Talk about what?”
Lucky doesn’t open up very often, but I know I’m not the only one dealing with a bad anniversary; his sister died almost two years ago. I frown as I try to remember the exact date, but then I have to blink a few times trying to make the alcohol-induced dizziness go away. I want to be able to look into his eyes when he tells me whatever it is he wants to talk to me about. It’ll calm me down and give me the patience to hear him out.
There’s something about Lucky—I don’t know how to explain it; he’s steadiness to me. He’s this presence, almost like a mystical thing—a g
uardian angel who I know would be there if I really needed him to be, no matter what the cost and no matter where I am. Thing is, though, I don’t like being weak. I hate depending on anybody for anything. So I’ve never called on this guardian angel before, and tonight is not going to be the day I start. I wait for him to answer my question, but at the same time I’m almost certain this will end with me shutting the door in his face.
“I don’t want to talk about it out here. I need to come inside.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks down at the ground.
My curiosity is piqued. This is the first time all night, the first time in a really long time, that I’ve seen Lucky appear unsure of himself.
“Is it about Sunny?” Lucky has this goldfish he really cares about. To anyone else it might sound crazy, but I get it. Kind of. It belonged to his sister Maribelle. Maybe he wants to reminisce about her. Jenny told everybody on the team that Lucky needs to talk about his sister’s death to help him work through his grief over her suicide, which means I’m going to feel guilty as hell if I shut the door on him now.
I step back and pull the door open wider. “Come on in. I’m going to go mix up a batch of Thibault’s hangover special.”
Lucky walks inside and shuts the door behind him. “Before you do that, just wait one second. I need to do something.”
I pause in the hallway that leads to my kitchen, confused. He walks toward me, but I don’t flinch. I don’t move a muscle. The spinning that was threatening to overwhelm me disappears in an instant as he gets close enough for me to touch.
I look up at him, at the fire smoldering in his eyes, and ask the question dancing around in my brain. “What are you doing?” I don’t know for sure what his answer will be, but that doesn’t stop my pulse from pounding like a war drum.
“Something I’ve been thinking about doing for a really long time. I decided I needed to stop thinking about it and just do it.”
“Why?” I’m stalling, trying to figure out his angle.
“A friend recently told me I should do something each day I’d regret not doing in the future, so here I am.” He keeps walking, which forces me to go backward. He’s crowding me, taking my personal space, making my heart race as my mind tries to make sense of what he’s doing. I was prepared to listen with a compassionate ear, to be gentle when I normally can’t be that person. What he’s doing now is throwing me for a loop. It doesn’t compute.
“I don’t . . . I don’t understand . . .” I run into the wall. There’s no more going backward for me, but Lucky is still coming.
He stops mere inches away and looks down at my eyes. “Toni, I’m going to kiss you again. Please don’t knee me in the nuts or punch me in the face.”
I bite the insides of my cheeks, trying not to smile. He looks so desperate, so serious. And this time he’s smart enough to warn me about what he’s going to do before he does it. I’m so busy trying to calculate whether I should say yes or no, I miss out on the fact that he’s already coming for me.
He places his hands on either side of my face and leans down, his eyes closing.
Should I duck under his arm and run? Should I knee him in the nads, even though he asked me not to? Should I close my eyes and just wait and see what happens? Too many teas, not enough time. Something whispers in the back of my head, another part of me, not as addled by the liquor as my conscious mind. No, it whispers, desperate to get me out of here. Don’t do it! You’ll destroy him! He’ll destroy you! Nothing good can come of this! Unfortunately, I’m really good at ignoring great advice.
Lucky’s lips touch mine, gently at first, but things heat up pretty quickly. For a few moments, I imagine that I’m going to force myself not to respond, let him run the show so he’ll see that I’m not interested in playing these games with him; but something in me catches fire and I lose all control in a matter of seconds. That little, rational voice inside my head is getting fainter and fainter. Sorry, brain, wrong answer. My answer to his request to kiss me is not no. It’s a resounding yes, yes, yes!
He presses me into the wall, his hands moving down from the sides of my face to my shoulders. I grab at his waist and squeeze his shirt, twisting it and hanging on like my life depends on it. He tastes like pure recklessness and smells like Lucky, a potent combination. I want to feel more of him on me, work out this antsy emotion threatening to swallow me whole.
He moans, sending my blood pressure spiking. My fingers go up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer. One of his hands is on my breast, squeezing. I’m hot. So turned on. It’s been too long since I’ve let a man touch me.
I don’t even know who I am right now, what my life is all about, what I plan to do with my future. All that matters is this moment, these few seconds that Lucky and I are stealing from the world, from reality. He’s been in my life for as long as I can remember, always there, always in the background, always smiling, always being a way better man than I deserve. Being with him can’t be right, but I’m doing this anyway. Hell yeah, I am. I’ll deal with the consequences later.
His tongue is hot, his lips full and soft. I have tingles running all over my body from his hands roaming everywhere they shouldn’t. My nipples are hard and my panties are wet.
He grabs me around the back while he’s still kissing me and pulls me away from the wall.
“Where’re we going?” His teeth scrape my lip and I dive in for more. I can’t get enough of him tonight.
“Just kiss me,” he says, guiding us through the house, crashing into furniture and knocking things over on the way. We end up in the living room and collapse onto the sofa together. The weight of his body pushes into me and I can feel his rock-hard length pressing into the soft spot between my legs. I’m on fire. I can’t think straight. The only thing going through my mind right now is how bad I want him inside me.
Screw the consequences. Screw the awkward moments that are bound to follow tomorrow and years after. One kiss from junior high lasted ten years; how long is this one going to last? Screw it. I convince myself it won’t last at all. Or not for long. We’re adults. We’ll get over this in a couple days, and life will go back to normal. I need him. Now.
“I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” he mumbles against my mouth.
I don’t like that he’s trying to complicate things. This can be just about sex for me. I can do this and so can he. “Shut up,” I growl, yanking his shirt out of his jeans. “Just take your clothes off and get inside me.”
He pauses, breathing heavily into my neck. “Are you sure?”
I glare at him, furious he’s asking me this question now. As if he gave me the option. “Go to hell, Lucky.”
His smile, so close, so beautiful, goes sinister. “That’s what I like about you, Toni. No nonsense.”
I’m secretly thrilled, but I’m not going to tell him that. “I’m not going to tell you to take your damn clothes off twice.”
Suddenly, he’s scrambling. His jacket goes flying, along with the shirt. I take a moment to admire his chiseled chest and rounded shoulders. Then his hand is on my shirt, yanking it up over my head. It’s not pretty or graceful in the least, but we’re both naked in under a minute and then he’s sliding into me.
I let out a long moan as his full length slips in achingly slow. I’m so wet, so ready for him. I cannot believe this is happening. The boy I’ve been crushing on since I was flat-chested is sliding in and out of me, sweating on me, moaning above me. I will allow myself to enjoy this moment for now. There will be plenty of time for regret later.
I reach around to his back and hang on for dear life, scoring his skin with my blunt nails as shivers of pleasure move out from my center.
He hisses in response to the pain and rams into me. “I’m fucking you, Toni.”
I bite my lower lip and grip onto him, tensing myself up to meet him and pull him into me more deeply. “No, you’re not. I’m fucking you.”
His laugh is deep, more like a growl, and he picks up the pace. Our bodi
es slam into each other, sweat making us slippery. I meet him thrust for thrust, pound for pound. We’re both breathing heavier as the sensations build between us. I can tell he’s just as affected as I am, the way he’s trembling all over.
“I can’t hold off much longer,” he groans.
We should both be dulled by the amount of alcohol we’ve had, but I’m right there with him. “Don’t wait on me.” I’m panting like a dog, so close to falling over the edge. It’s been too long for me, and I’ve thought about Lucky for so many years. This is way better than I ever imagined it could be.
I start to feel something dangerously close to happiness, but I fear that emotion; it usually means pain is just around the corner. I push the thoughts away and focus on his thickness filling me, drawing me closer and closer to the edge. Lucky somehow knows exactly what I need and gives it to me without a word.
His arm goes under my waist and he lifts me up, pounding into me faster and faster. I’m yelling now, unable to stop the emotions from bombarding me, zinging out from every corner of my mind and my heart. I’ve never had sex like this before, and I’ll probably never have sex like this again because this will be a one-time event. And now it’s nearing the end, the bittersweet moment we’ve both been waiting for that I’m probably going to regret for the rest of my life.
“I’m coming!” he yells. His entire body is tensed up, hard as a rock. Sweat is rolling off him.
Hearing his words, feeling his body pulsing above me, is all I need.
“I’m coming too!”
We orgasm together and it feels like some kind of miracle has just happened in my living room. At the same moment, we both explode inside, clinging to one another lest we float off into the universe untethered, never to return. I imagine fireworks in my brain. Fireworks inside me. I’m pulsing with need and spent ecstasy. Lucky’s body does the same. And then, as all the heat and fire and intense emotion fade out, he collapses on top of me, smothering me in two hundred pounds of what-the-hell-did-we-just-do.
I can feel his heart beating against mine, the hard thump-thump-thump waking me up to reality. But I’m too tired and spent to do anything about it. I’ll hate myself tomorrow. Right now, I’m just going to enjoy the afterglow.
