Resisting Redemption

by Amabel Daniels

  He plopped into the driver’s seat, grimacing at the taut aches in his legs. Would she be anywhere near the same page as him? He wasn’t overly and unwisely optimistic that she’d be on par with his personal reaction to their lovemaking. His summary concluded that letting go of their boundaries and facing their mutual attraction was fan-fucking-tastic, just as he’d anticipated it would be. When he drove home, content in both a physical and sentimental means, he didn’t want to know where he began and she ended.

  Even after he started the car and pulled into the light evening traffic, she was mute and he was bombarded with chaotic musings. She’d been so damn tight, he’d have imagined she was a virgin if he hadn’t known she’d conceived Lucy.

  Fuck. How inconsiderate could he be? She hadn’t had sex since…well, over a year by his math, and admitted to not much action prior to her one night with Jimmy. She could have taken a little warning, foreplay, easing into the act. Not slamming home—against a brick wall.

  Fucker. He was an asshole. Their first time, against a goddamn exterior wall in an alley? Every time he ground into her was probably like scraping her right up on sandpaper.

  Clutching and twisting his grip on the steering wheel, the gravity of his impulsive actions hit hard. Roxie, his Roxie, was a sassy, scrappy, smart vixen of a companion, a young mother, a near-veterinarian, a classy, respectable woman. Not some cheap thing to bang outside next to strangers and garbage.

  What he had been thinking? Taking her along to Tara’s, exposing her to danger or criminal woes. Then fucking her in the alley? He hadn’t been using his brain at all. Sometime before he became an idiot with his impulsive decisions of the night, he’d lost his mind.

  Daring a slap in the face, he carefully put his hand on her knee.

  Forefront in his worries now was if she could ever forgive hi—

  “I can’t believe we just did that!” Her outburst was coupled with a forceful slam of her hand on her lap and a shake of her head.

  He jerked his hand from her knee. Forgive me, my ass. Grant’s esteem and warm affection shriveled and sunk in his chest, making him feel every bit the coward and moron.

  Roxie growled, crossing her arms as she stared out the window at the blur of downtown passing by. “We could have been caught. Arrested.”

  Public indecency. The concern hadn’t even entered his mind. Dumbass!

  “I know you’re an intelligent and able-bodied man, but I didn’t think you’d had it in you to do that!”

  Creasing his forehead, Grant kept his gaze on the road but did a double-take at her words. Was she complimenting his fitness to bang her against the wall, or was she expressing her doubt that she didn’t think he’d manage vigorous sex?

  “You realize how stupid that was?” she said and smacked his biceps. “You said you had a code. Run in and out. Get the papers and leave. Not set the guards after us!”

  Grant braked hard and pulled into the driveway of a closed drive-thru. “What exactly are you regretting?” he asked once he’d twisted to face her.

  “Excuse me?” Her brows raised almost comically. “You have to ask?”

  “Going to her apartment, or…” Christ, what was he, a teenager? He couldn’t even mention the word ‘sex’?

  “Oh!” Her face reddened in the dim light from the streetlights in front of the car. “Uh.” She reverted to a sheepish smile. “No, no. I don’t, um, regret…” Her hand reached across and grabbed his, pulling it back so they rested on her lap. “No. Oh, Jesus. Why am I embarrassed? We’re adults. No, I don’t regret doing it. Maybe not the appropriate when and where of it, but—”

  She licked her lips. “I asked for it. I wanted it—you. No regrets.”

  Grant let go of the breath he was trapping in his lungs.

  Oh, thank God.

  He shot over to give her a single kiss. Of thanks. Of apology. Of…love. He still had a chance. He could still apologize for his—well, their—impulsiveness. He could make it up to her, and couldn’t wait for the chance to do so. But first, he would hear her out.

  “But that was the stupidest thing you could have ever done,” she said as he reversed and aimed for the street again.

  “You might be surprised.”

  “What happened to the code?” she asked. “It worked.”

  “Well, it was still active. I got in, but she must have taken me off her guest list. I don’t know. If the wrong code is entered three times, security is alerted in the lobby.”

  “Okay, so the next bright idea was to just run?”

  He rubbed his thumb on the knuckle of her index finger. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  She scoffed. “As soon as they find your fingerprints—”

  “I tucked my hands inside my sleeves. Nothing will show in her place. I didn’t touch anything except the notepad. We had our hoods up, and it would be difficult to present a clear image from the cameras. And—they didn’t catch us.”

  Waiting at a red light, he glanced at her.

  “Leave it to a criminal lawyer to know how to evade the law,” she commented.

  “Hey, I’ve never run from the law. Like that at least. But I didn’t leave any prints. And I only took the papers. If she calls in to report this, the only thing she’ll notice missing will be those notes.”

  “And clue her on to us. No one else would break in for my notes. She’ll know it was you.”

  Grant shrugged. “Probably. Or she’ll assume I paid someone to retrieve them for me.”

  “So she’ll report you.”

  “So what? I don’t care if she knows I got in there. If she reports me, then she’ll have to verify original ownership of your notes. If she dares to point a finger at me, as correct as she would be, she’d have to confess to her own crime of taking the notes. That’s an admission I don’t think she’ll be keen to share.”

  Roxie tucked back errant strands of her red mess. “It all seems…” She sighed. “So damn melodramatic. We know she was skimping on the case with the goal to jump ship and work on or for the DA. And we can claim she’s, I guess for the lack of a better word, spying on our progress on the case. But why not just face her? Let her have it? I understand you hate her guts, but why sneak around the bush?”

  “To whom? Tell her to screw off or else? I hold no threat over her. Walter is her uncle. She’s always been the favorite do-no-wrong niece. The old man still probably doubts me after my leave of absence and the onset of my depression. I wouldn’t stand a chance with my word against hers.”

  “So we just put up with her?”

  “The only power I have over her is this case. Winning for Ben. That is the only way to beat her. I don’t give a damn what kind of twisted sick mind games she’s up to now with fussing up Ben’s case and going to the DA. Good riddance to her. As soon as Ben is acquitted, I’m out of there. But for the sake of Ben’s case, yes, we will keep this matter between us.”

  “And what? Guard ourselves better?” she asked.

  “Exactly. Definitely lock the office every time. Better yet, never leave anything there overnight. We’ll bring it home with us. You’ve already refused to share any intel with her, and I doubt she’ll try to get anything from you after she learns I paid her place a visit. Don’t count on her being so bold in her attempts any longer.”

  Neither spoke a word for the little remainder of the return trip to his apartment. He took the notes and the folded hoodie and let her lead the way in. Exhaustion crippled his will to move faster. His legs ached from running and the sex against the wall. His brain cowered from the up and down roller coaster of emotions—fear, alarm, lust, concern, worry, and finally, elation and hope.

  Roxie slowed her pace, waiting for him to catch up. In the elevator, he fell back to the wall. First a shower. Then bed. Sleep. He still felt the need to express his apologies of how he’d disrespected their first time together. He’d envisioned a display of affection, care, and patience—slow lovemaking to strip away her doubts of him.

  Maybe she would wan
t to conserve water and shower with him, giving such a discussion a chance.

  Once he opened his apartment door, Kelly rose from the couch.

  Goddammit. His sister. He’d forgotten she was there. She’d want answers.

  “That was fast,” Kelly said.

  Oh, she has no idea…

  “She’s still sleeping like an angel.” Kelly smiled at the pack-n-play. “What an adorable girlie.”

  “Thanks,” Roxie said. “And thank you for sitting with her.”

  Kelly waved a hand. “Easy peasy.”

  “You want to shower first?” Roxie asked after he closed the door.

  He sighed, watching Kelly eye Roxie.

  “No. Go ahead.” He gestured toward his bedroom. The guestroom had a bathroom, but the simple shower stall was nothing compared to the waterworks in his master suite.

  After approaching the sleeping baby and reaching down to pat her tousled hair, Roxie left Grant with his sibling.

  “So,” Kelly said.

  “So.” Grant wasn’t in the mood to hash out the details.

  “The last time you called me, you were shit-faced drunk in a cabin in Colorado, whining about Tara ruining your life. Tonight you ask me out of the blue to babysit a stranger’s baby.”

  He set the crumpled notes on the countertop, went to the fridge for water, and then stretched his quads, Kelly following him through the great room. “Correct.”

  “Well, who is she?”

  “My assistant. And…” He let go of his foot and gave Kelly his evenest stare. “Just not now, Kel.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Not now? When? You’ve gone off the deep end after this crap with Tara. You never called any of us. Never came to visit. Dad was really worried for a while.”

  He groaned. Please. Lay a little more guilt on me.

  “And now you have a woman in your life. No explanation. Are you rebounding by sleeping with your hired help?”

  Grant glared at her. “She is not—”

  “Not so loud, Grant,” Roxie scolded as she came back from his bedroom, not showered or changed. “Lucy’s sleeping, remember?”

  Of course she’d enter the conversation precisely when Kelly was labeling her all the things Grant was trying his damnedest to prove her she was not. Roxie mattered so much more than as a rebound or his employee.

  He peered at the pack-n-play. Still soft snores. “Thought you were showering?” he asked.

  “Waiting for you.” She crossed her arms. “Kelly, can you badger him another time?” Roxie asked his sister.

  Kelly blinked, likely not enjoying a blunt dismissal.

  “Honestly, thank you for watching Lucy. And if you’re willing, I’d love to ask you again. But we’ve had a long, weird, and tiring day. And night. As much as I’ll bet Grant will dodge your questions and defend his privacy, he probably won’t be able to explain much of my significance in his life right now because he hasn’t had any time to adequately re-categorize me in the last, oh, thirty minutes. So really, can your interrogation wait until the morning?”

  Since she’d lost her only sibling when she was fifteen, and hadn’t had much of a stable family all the years following, Grant didn’t attribute her snappy dismissal of Kelly to any innate knowledge of how siblings bicker, pester, nag, interact, or pull rank. No one dismissed Kelly easily. But having witnessed Roxie putting countless people in their place, specifically in rejecting them from intruding on his workday schedule, he knew this was her strength. Down to business, firm Roxie. He couldn’t admire her more.

  Kelly opened her mouth to speak, but Roxie cut in. “Actually, tomorrow morning will be hectic. We have to get Lucy ready to take to the office with us, I’ve got to take care of some food, get milk, and then we’ve got to start cleaning up this obstacle we’ve hit with our paperwork—”

  “Kel?” Grant stepped closer to his sister, his hand up in a truce. “I’ll call tomorrow, okay?”

  Kelly scoffed. “Like I should take your word?”

  He groaned.

  “I’m a witness,” Roxie offered behind him. “I’ll insist he contact you.”

  Kelly raised her brows as she zipped up her sweatshirt at the door. “I think I might like this one,” she whispered to Grant as he opened the door for her.

  Wait ’til you get to know her.

  Once Kelly had departed, probably equally peeved and surprised at her demanded absence, Grant spun to face Roxie. “You were waiting for me?”

  She smiled with a hint of embarrassment and shrugged.

  He took her hand, his newest favorite habit it seemed, and led her to his bedroom, making sure to pass the pack-n-play on the way to double-check Lucy was contently asleep, enjoying baby dreams.

  Being the third time he’d disrobed in front of her, he had no reservations to strip in her presence. When he noticed she was slower to mimic his actions, he gave her the space he guessed she’d desired, and entered his walk-in shower. Shortly after steamy hot water shot from the dual ceiling-hung showerheads, she joined him.

  It was her idea to share a shower. And it was she who said, between gasps, that she’d wanted more than just his fingers inside her in the alley. For her to be shy to stand in front of him in all her glorious nudity, it was…cute. Endearing. As much as he wanted to eye every luscious inch of her and take his time absorbing every curve, he respected her struggles.

  She’d given in to him. But he didn’t intend to gloat and cockily assume she wouldn’t be skittish. He respected how hard she’d resisted, how fiercely she held herself to her own standards and morals. Now that she’d given him an inch, he’d bide his time.

  When she reached around him, his back to her, he watched as she took the shampoo from his hands. He turned to face her, keeping his gaze on hers, and she squirted a dollop into her left hand. When she returned the bottle to him, she stretched up to work the cream into his hair. Using her nails to scrape his scalp, it felt better than any hair care ritual he’d ever done.

  He didn’t wait to mimic her favor and begin cleaning her. Hair, face, body, and all, they explored each other in the swirling misty haven of the shower—him caressing and rinsing her slick, taut skin.

  When he’d shut the water off, both of them had difficulty breathing evenly. He couldn’t be sure when she’d leaned in to kiss him, maybe when she’d started washing his cock, but he was positive he wouldn’t be the one to break this bond. Toweling her off the best he could, he practically carried her to his bed where he took the time and space to show her how he should have made love to her earlier. Slowly, tenderly, agonizingly hungrily.

  They’d wound up on twisted, damp sheets, limbs tangled, and her knotted red hair stuck to his shoulder as she lay on top of him, their skin shiny from the sheen of their sweat and residual water from the shower. Sticking to him, she lifted her face and kissed his chin as she rose.

  Her lack of words… Was she trying for a silent treatment of some kind, or was this a simple concept of actions speaking louder than words? Blissed out from mind-blowing sex, he wasn’t in the mood to be picky. Sleep beckoned. If she was quiet, so what? But because of the importance of who she was, the woman crawling her way into his cold heart, he wasn’t comfortable dismissing her lack of communication. He needed to know she was okay with this—other than her apparent and very vocal appreciation at the release of her orgasm.

  She stood, kinked out her neck, and left the bedroom without a glance back.

  Fuck that.

  Grant fumbled out of his bed, rushing after her. He paused on a double-take and grabbed boxers and a t-shirt from his walk-in closet, and then searched for her in the great room.

  In the darkness of his home, he found her leaning over the pack-n-play, wearing panties and still pulling a t-shirt over her head. He came to her side, rubbing her back. “Did you hear something?” Why else would she have fled so immediately if not for tending to Lucy? Repelled by him? He refused to believe it. She had to be experiencing the brutal power of the same kind of connection th
at was stunning him.

  She shook her head. “Not yet. But it’s two in the morning. She’s getting better making it through the night, but sometimes she still wakes at three for a snack. Or reassurance. I don’t know. But I’m always there for her.” She went to the couch and sat, picking up a pillow at the end.

  He went to her, standing in front of the couch. “You’re, you’re sleeping here?”

  Her fingers made a weak attempt of combing her hair. “I don’t really know where to go.”

  My bed. With me. By my side.

  “She always wakes up to see me. When she wakes up in an unfamiliar place… I don’t want her to be scared. It’s okay. You go on back to bed.”

  Screw that. He did leave her—to return to his room to fetch his comforter and decent pillows. His couch wasn’t a dainty little thing, and as last night proved, he fit awfully well with Roxie for a night’s worth of slumber on a sofa.

  She’d lain on her side in the time he’d gone to his room and then to the great room again.

  “Move over,” he said, chucking the pillows to the end.

  “Grant, you don’t have to come out here. This is ridiculous. You have a perfectly good bed—”

  “I don’t care about semantics of obligations. You want to be with Lucy. And I want to be with both of you. So I’ll be right out here with both of you for snack time.” He’d arranged a makeshift bed and crawled over her, laying down on his side at the back of the cushions. He held his arm up, inviting her in to be spooned.

  He could have sworn he saw her smile as she approached him. Could have been his imagination, a figment of wishful thinking, what, with his sleep-deprived state of mind. But when she snuggled closer to his chest and he tightened his hold around her waist, he definitely heard her sigh.

  “Grant…”

  He nuzzled her neck. “What?”

  “We didn’t… I don’t regret this, you. In the alley or your room. But we didn’t use—”

  Protection. He rose to lean on his elbow. “Roxie, I’m clean. After finding out about Tara and Stuart, I freaked out. Had myself checked.”

  She smiled in the darkness. “That wasn’t my first concern.”