by Staci Hart
A growl and a shift, and I was on my back, caged by his body, pinned by his hips, only not the way I wanted. He knew it too. But his hand on my breast, fingers toying with my peaked nipple, told me I would wait, even if just for a minute.
That hand kept at its task, but his lips moved down my neck, across my collarbone, down my sternum, to my breast. The slick warmth of his mouth was some sort of heaven, his tongue circling my nipple, then flicking, then drawing it deeper. My thighs spread wider, my body squirming and seeking and displeased at the distance between his hips and mine. But he let me squirm despite my mewling, taking a long moment right where he was to pay tribute to my breasts with his lips and his tongue and his eager hands. And when he left his post, I was unsurprised he went down instead of up.
Resigned, I sighed and quit fighting, and unfazed, he threaded an arm under my thigh and lifted it to his shoulder, his hand on a track for my ass. When he found it, he squeezed until flesh spilled between his fingers. The other hand spread my free leg wider, trailing up the inside of my thigh with a zip of electricity in its wake. I could feel his breath against the places that wanted him, even the stroke of his finger secondary to the anticipation of his mouth. I watched him hover there, his gaze charting what lay before him, and I waited, unable to breathe, unable to blink until he took what he wanted.
His lips parted, his fingertips making way for his tongue, and with shuddering pleasure, he tasted my flesh in a decadent, luxurious sweep. I sighed to the stars and sank into the bed, heavy and useless and at his disposal, permission that he took with no small amount of indulgence. As if my pleasure was his, and he would take it in excess.
And so he did.
A tracing, a latching, a delving of tongue and fingertips, around and around in a rhythm that pressed and drove and spurred me toward the edge of the world. The gallop of my heart, the tremble of my thighs, the sweat on my brow as the precipice drew closer, tightening my vision, my awareness, my body, my lungs.
With a flash of heat, I burst free, my lungs shooting open as I came beneath his touch, the pleasure-pain of every lick and suck cracking like lightning down my thighs, up my spine. Until finally, sadly, it faded until it was gone.
Only then did he close his lips and climb up my body, settling his hips between my thighs where I’d wanted him all along. The length of him nestled in that tender space that already ached for him again, his arms bracketing my shoulders and hands on my face, fingers tangled in my damp hair.
But he didn’t kiss me. And for that long moment, I didn’t want him to.
There was something about his eyes, something that stopped my heart and breath and time as he looked down at me. It was that part of him that lived in shadows, what didn’t want to be seen, illuminated by a moment of sheer honesty and truth. They were the things he wished for, things he didn’t want to say.
In his eyes was infinite longing, and I sank into them until I might have drowned.
But he saved me with a kiss, breathing into me, breathing me. A shift of his hips, and he breached me. A flex, and he filled me. A sigh, and he stayed right there, our bodies as close as we could get. If we could get any closer, we would, but for a luxuriant stretch of unknowable time, that was more than enough.
It was everything.
My mind was a haze, our bodies a pulsing beat, a tempo we both knew without thought, a drum pounding faster, harder, deeper until we felt it tremble in our bones and marrow.
The heartbeat of silence when we came held a truth, one that stretched like a horizon, where the sea met the sky, delineating an unattainable destination.
What we felt for each other was bigger than we would admit, more than we could afford.
And we both knew it.
He fell asleep before I did, marked by that long, gentle breath and the occasional twitch of his fingers in my hair. But I lay awake, wrapped up in him, my head tucked under his chest and the scent of his skin a lullaby.
In a moment of bare honesty, he’d shown me his longing—the longing to belong. And I wanted him to belong to me. When I searched my ribs, my heart was gone—he’d stolen it when I wasn’t looking.
And when I finally fell asleep, it was wondering how in the world I’d ever get it back.
21
Is that a Yes?
LEVI
The espresso machine sputtered and hissed with enough force that it left me wondering if I’d done something wrong. So I watched it with suspicion, arms folded and back against the counter across from it, just in case it exploded.
It was early—we’d woken before the rest of the house, our sleep cycle out of whack from being up for over twenty-four hours, thanks to Warren. We’d slept most of yesterday afternoon, waking around dinnertime. The rest of the night had been spent in her bed, eating takeout and half-watching movies, half-making out in what had to be the laziest Sunday ever.
I figured we’d earned it.
We were up with the sun this morning and currently on our second cup of coffee. My eyes shifted to the patio, where Stella sat, eyes closed and face upturned, and warmth spread over me just like the sun illuminating her face.
If the last forty-eight hours had taught me anything, it was that I was a goner for Stella Spencer.
The knowledge wasn’t a shock, but an understanding of fact. I didn’t know when it had happened. Maybe the first time I laid eyes on her. The first time I made her laugh. Some mundane moment like this. A breath between nothings that meant everything. Or that each moment was just another reason to love her. We weren’t there yet, but I could see the path laid out in front of me, straight as an arrow to the horizon.
And now that I knew I couldn’t be without her, I had to figure out what to do about it.
All I’d ever wanted was a gig like I was about to land. And then I met her, and the blessing of my job became a curse.
I sighed, wishing things were simpler. That we’d met long ago or even after Syria, as much as I hated the thought of waiting any length of time for what she’d given me. Now that I had found her, waiting for her seemed like the only thing I could do. Whether we talked about it or not, whether she agreed or didn’t, I couldn’t see myself getting involved with anyone else. I couldn’t see any outcome beyond me returning, clutching my hope in my fist that she’d want to pick things back up. Even if we parted ways, even if she was dating, I would still hang on to that hope. Of that, I had no doubt.
In that context, it seemed stupid not to tell her. I just had to figure out how.
But first, more coffee.
I added hot water from the little spout like she’d shown me before heading back outside, putting my thoughts away so we could get back to our bigger problem.
Warren.
She smiled up at me when I appeared, extending her hands for her cup. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me until you’ve tasted it.”
I took the seat next to her on the loveseat, and she twisted to put her feet in my lap.
“So what about Warren’s ex-wife?” she asked, picking up the conversation where we’d left off. “Think she knows anything?”
“Maybe, but I can’t imagine her talking to me about it.”
“No, me neither. But somebody has to know something. Did you ask Billy?”
“I tried, but he didn’t have much to add, just that there’s likely more to it than we knew. There have been water cooler whispers about Warren’s more unsavory ties for years, but nothing’s ever come of it. He’s got enough friends in the force to leave him bulletproof.”
“Yeah, because he’s using those friends as human shields.” She took a delicate sip of her coffee, testing the heat.
“I was thinking about the process he went through to become the commissioner. The mayor appoints him, but a committee vets the candidates. I wonder if one of them knows something.”
“Probably the president, or whatever title they have. The one on top always knows something.”
I set down my mug in exchange for my phone, a
nd with a little bit of digging, I found a name. “His name’s Jameson, Ed Jameson. I know that name—must be from Billy. I wonder if he’d meet with me.”
“I wonder if he’d be honest with you.”
“Probably not. But it’s worth a shot, right? I’ll set up an appointment, and in the meantime, I’ll see if I can uncover any substantial leads. It doesn’t make any sense, what he’s doing, and we can’t be the only ones who think so.”
“I just thought he was a fun-hating old grump until the other night. Now I’m not just annoyed. I’m mad and a little scared, if I’m honest.”
I stroked her calf, gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna figure this out before I leave—I promise you that.”
When she smiled, it was touched with sadness. “What am I going to do without you?”
“Same thing as me, I suppose.”
“Doubtful since you’ll be in a war zone and I’ll be in a party zone.”
One of my brows rose. “So you won’t miss me?”
That lifted her smile along with the color in her cheeks. “Oh, I will. Terribly, I’m afraid.”
We were silent through a pause I spent drawing up my courage. “What if I told you I didn’t plan on seeing anybody while I’m gone?”
“Do a lot of relationships start covering war-torn countries?” she deflected, smirking to disguise the longing in her eyes.
“You’d be surprised.” Another pause. “What would you say if I asked you to wait for me?”
Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes sparked. She didn’t answer.
“I know. It’s crazy.” I tracked my hand as it charted the shape of her leg. “I can think of twenty reasons for you to say no. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. You barely know me. I lied to you. And I can’t think of any reason why you’d say yes. But I want you to. It doesn’t have to be all big and official, and I don’t want you to feel pressured to stick it out. If you meet somebody, just tell me. I won’t be mad, won’t blame you. I might put his picture on a dartboard and hope you dump him before I get back, but I won’t hold it against you, Stella. I’m coming back single either way.”
She chuckled but still said nothing.
“Tell me you’ll think about it.”
For a breath, she said nothing. And then she set her coffee down, rose up on her knees, and climbed silently into my lap, hooking her arms around my neck.
“I don’t need to think about it,” she said. “Ever since you told me you were leaving, I’ve been wondering how I was going to get over you. Now I don’t have to.”
I pulled her closer, my heart thumping against my chest and into hers. “Is that a yes?”
With a smile, she said, “That’s a yes.”
The slightest of shifts, and our lips met, the air crackling with effervescent happiness, that joyous relief that came with getting a thing you wanted but couldn’t have. It was a kiss from lips that couldn’t smooth their smiles, not until it slowed, mouths stretching, tongues delving deeper. A twist at my waist had her pinned beneath me. A handful of heartbeats and a flurry of hands had me a literal inch away from fucking her right there on her patio.
I broke the kiss to glance around, peeking over the back of the couch for her roommates. But she shifted her hips to close the small gap between us, and there was nothing to do but sigh and give in.
Because I was already gone.
22
Good Boy
STELLA
Ash’s place was hopping a few nights later, an impromptu celebration for none of us getting booked over the weekend. He lived in the ultimate bachelor pad—tall ceilings and paned windows, industrial touches and textures set off by unaffectedly cool furniture. The guy had style, no doubt about it, and it didn’t go unnoticed, as evidenced by the three girls following him around like puppy dogs. In turn, he magnanimously held their leashes.
I glanced around the space with a wistful sort of gladness to have all my favorite people in one place. Levi’s arm around me while he talked to Cooper Moore, who had come out of domestic retirement for the night with his wife, Maggie. Betty had on the hottest black dress, the hem short enough that it garnered the attention of every single straight man on the premises. Which was funny if only for her pact with Zeke, who stood shoulder to shoulder with her, absorbing the male attention Betty so studiously ignored. For a tall drink of water, he looked thirsty as fuck, his blond hair neatly combed and his suit touched with a deliciously ’20s flair, as was his custom. Tag had some poor doe-eyed girl pinned against a brick wall, smiling at her like a wolf. Joss, by all appearances, looked perfectly attentive to the group she was chatting with, but I knew better—her mind was a thousand miles away, her distant expression reminding me to talk to her, really talk to her. I’d been so busy, so wrapped up with the Bright Young Things and Levi that I felt like I hadn’t seen any of them in a month, and we lived together.
But in the last few days, since Levi had told me he’d wait for me—an admission that filled up my brain with exclamation points—I’d felt myself settle. It was a strange feeling to be still and content. To get the sense that everything would work out just fine, even though I was under Warren’s gun. Zeke and Betty had convinced me to stop the parties for a little while, though pulling the plug on parties I’d worked so hard on made my insides monkey screech. I hated the thought of Warren winning this round, but we hoped if we took a little breather, maybe he’d calm the fuck down.
It was worth a shot, even if it was a long shot.
“You know Joseph Bastian?” Levi asked Cooper in wonder. “The photographer? Like, you know him?”
Cooper laughed. “Since kindergarten. He’s less intimidating once you’ve seen him get an atomic wedgie on the playground. Come on—I’ll introduce you.”
Levi looked down at me with hopeful eyes, and I cupped his cheek with a smile. “Go. Tell Joey I said hi.”
At that, he huffed a laugh, rolled his eyes, and kissed me in the same breath.
I watched them walk away until I realized I was alone, and I began to make plans. My drink could use a refresh, that was item one on the list. Then I thought I should go save Joss, maybe pull her aside, find somewhere we could catch up. It was a good plan, one to deploy immediately, and I took a step toward the kitchen to do just that.
I didn’t see Dex coming, a common mistake of mine. He’d come without Elsie tonight, and in her absence, there was nothing to stop him from brooding at me from across the room. Levi and I had only discussed it long enough to agree to ignore him as best we could and to make the pact to stick together.
One it seemed we’d forgotten.
Dex was drunk, that was plain to see. Heavy lids over bloodshot eyes, his hair a little mussed, his shirt rumpled, but the telltale sign was that one shoulder sank a little lower than the other, giving the impression of a permanent tilt.
When he smiled, it was that of a predator. “Where ya goin’, Stell?”
On alert, my back stiffened. But my face smiled in what I hoped was amiability and not masked disgust. I held up my drink. “Need a refill.”
“Me too. I’ll come with you.” He laid his hand on the small of my back, but I turned away the second I realized what he was doing.
“Come on, Dex,” I said playfully. “You know better than that.”
He frowned to the point of sneering. “What, you afraid your guy will be jealous?”
“I know he will, even though there’s no reason. You and I are through.”
“Says you.”
“No, says you,” I reminded him. “Don’t do this. Not to me and not to Elsie. Now, I really need to find Levi, and you should call a cab, okay? Go home to your girlfriend.”
When I moved to walk away, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into his chest. The scent of scotch slipped over me like I’d crawled into a barrel. Instantly, I was transported back in time, back when I thought accepting what little he gave me was a means to an end. Back when I thought I loved him.
Stupid old me
. I’d had no idea what love was, not if I’d convinced myself that was what he gave me.
I was about to push him when his grip tightened. “What if I don’t want Elsie anymore? What if I want you instead?”
“Then I’d say you’re a little late for that,” I answered, my voice low and shaky. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let me.
“I don’t know, Stell. I think you’re gonna give me another shot.”
“And why would I do that?”
He leaned in until his lips were at my ear. “Because I know who you are.”
Cold fear trickled down my spine. “You wouldn’t, Dex.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“You would bring everything down just because you want something you can’t have?”
He leaned back so I could see the smile on his face. “Cecelia Beaton says I can have what I want.”
I tried again to remove my arm from his fist without luck. “Let me go,” I ground out.
“Tell me you’ll think about it.”
“Let me go.” Hysteria rose when I realized he might not.
“Get your fucking hands off her.”
Levi’s voice startled Dex enough that his fingers relaxed, and I pulled my arm free. The second I was clear, Levi shoved Dex hard enough that he slammed into a wall, his head rebounding off the brick.
“Fuck, man.” Dex gave his head a shake. “Fuck you.”
Levi sprang, grabbing him by the shirtfront as a flock of people converged. It took three guys—Ash, Zeke, and Tag—to wrangle Levi away.
Ash jerked his chin at Zeke. “Put Dex in a cab.”
With a nod, Zeke turned, smoothing his hair and sliding into a feline smile. “Come on, Sexy Dexy. Party’s over.”
Zeke reached for Dex, but Dex bucked, pushing him away. “Fuck you too, Zeke.”
