by Kelli Evans
“Why not? It’s a kiss,” she teased, putting her arm around his stomach and fitting herself right up against him.
“Yes, it is but I want a better one.” She was more than willing to give him what he asked for, but she liked to play hard to get too. Had to make a man work for it every once in a while.
“You never told me what I was going to get if I won.”
They were close to the building now. Before they got to the door, Patrick pulled her into a shadowed corner. His arms went around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She was on her tiptoes, staring at his plush lips.
“I was going to give you a kiss too.” He slipped one of his hands down to cup her ass and bring them even closer, if that was possible. His other hand slid from her waist to the front of her jeans. “I was going to kiss you…here.” For the second time tonight, his fingers skimmed over the seam between her legs.
Roz gasped, shivered, and clutched the back of his neck. “You still can,” she whispered. “Just not here.”
He let out a throaty laugh, and she wasn’t sure if she had ever heard such a wonderful sound. He leaned down, his lips brushing hers. “Deal,” he whispered before capturing her mouth.
Her whole body deflated in his arms as all her other senses faded away. All she could feel was his lips, all she could smell was him. She tangled her hands in his hair, keeping him close to her, and both of his were on her ass now practically picking her up off the ground.
Somewhere a child laughed, and it knocked Roz back to earth, Patrick too, as they peeled apart. They looked around to see if anyone stared before bursting out laughing. They were dangerous together. It was as if they existed in their own world and no one else was around. She was more than ready to have Patrick all to herself.
Chapter 16
Patrick
THEY’D gone inside for laser tag, then played a round of put-put, and ended their adventure at Lootie’s Booty in the arcade, shooting hoops and playing skee-ball. Roz was competitive, and Patrick was amused by it.
“I’m having fun,” Roz said, sounding a little bit in disbelief, as they fed their tickets into a machine to count them. Roz, with a fingernail, scored the word on the black tower devouring their paper chains, Ticket-Eater. “So, Hannah keeps insisting that Skeeter and The Eaters had a record deal. Is that true?”
“We made a record, had the interest of an agent, and then Skeeter got into law school. Chad ran off with some woman we met in New Mexico…That just left Chase and me. We tried for a while to do it White Stripes-style but he’s a bass guitarist, and basically with bass guitar and a drum we’re just a beat. So we looked around for some other musicians but it was a garbage fire. Chase was the one to suggest heading back home and going to college like regular humans. You know the rest of the story.” The machine spit a receipt at them, and Patrick grabbed it. “Let’s cash this in.”
Patrick put his hand on Roz’s lower back, just low enough he could slip the tips of his fingers into her back pocket. Waiting in line at the counter, Roz stepped more fully into him. Patrick’s heart jolted as he slung his arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head against him, and he fought the urge to press a kiss into her hair. Maybe too intimate. Too soon. But then he couldn’t fight the urge any longer and he kissed her on the top of the head, inhaling the gentle clean smell of her shampoo.
“So, what are you going to get?” Patrick asked, eyeing the ticket. “A stuffed animal? The Army parachute guys? A kazoo?”
“Next?” The shaggy-haired teen behind the counter flagged them forward. They moved up, and Patrick retracted his arm from around Roz and didn’t dare glance at her yet. Patrick slid the receipt across the counter. “Okay, cool. So you can choose one of these.” The kid pointed to large, but not the largest, stuffed animals hanging from the ceiling. “A couple of those.” He motioned to the wall of prizes behind him. “Or a plethora of these.” He tapped the glass case the counter was made of.
“I want those.” Roz pointed to something behind the kid. “And two of these.” She tapped the glass counter.
The kid handed her two colorful braided bracelets. “Here’s your friendship bracelets,” he said and then moved away from the counter to grab something off the back wall for her.
“Here.” Roz offered up one to him.
“Does this mean we’re friends?” Patrick laughed and pushed his sleeves up enough so his wrist showed.
“Aren’t we?” Roz asked as she relaxed it as far as it would go and then slid it over his hand.
“Is this going to fit?” Miraculously, she rolled it past the thickest part of his hand and then tightened it at his wrist. She easily slipped on hers without adjusting it at all.
“And there you go.” The teen slid a realistic-looking set of metal handcuffs across the counter to her.
Roz picked up the handcuffs, dangling them on one finger as she tugged him away from the counter and toward the exit. “I thought you needed your own pair.” She slipped them into his palm. “But in this fantasy, is it you wearing them or is it…?” She shot him the sexiest grin and pointed to herself before she pushed them outside.
The cold rushed around him doing nothing to calm the heat in his blood. Roz pulled her hair over her shoulder and held on to it, keeping it from whipping around in the wind. Something about that was so hot to him. He reached for her again, spinning her and pinning her against the side of his truck.
Roz let out a surprised gasp that melted into a laugh. He brandished the cuffs, before stuffing them into his pocket. “I think we could try both. See which is better. You know I’m down for scientific experiments.”
Roz tipped her head back and laughed louder. All that neck, exposed to him, almost in offering. He couldn’t resist it. He settled himself against her and drew his beard along her throat. Her laugh died and became a moan. She threaded her fingers in his hair, and he lavished her neck in kisses, sucking on her, and dragging his teeth along her skin.
Roz pressed her hips against him, grinding against his thigh. “Patrick,” she sighed. He loved the sound of that. He moved his mouth toward her ear. Her scent got stronger and sweeter the closer he came to her hair.
“I swear to God…” she murmured just before he sucked her earlobe into his mouth. He pressed a palm between her thighs. She ground down against his hand. “Get these clothes off me.” Her voice was tight with frustration.
He captured her mouth in a hot, intense kiss. Hungry. Needy.
Desperate.
A wash of light flashed across them. Roz pushed on his chest and sucked in a deep breath as a van full of teenagers, possibly even his students, drove by. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and put her leg down. He couldn’t remember dragging it up around his waist. “Take me home.” It was not a question, but he nodded his reply.
The car ride felt as if it took longer than normal. Roz rolled her window down and closed her eyes into the cool night air blowing into the cab. He understood. Being with her right now and not touching her was torture. And he couldn’t touch her without that heat coiling into his middle and threatening to consume him.
“This feels like that Phil Collin’s song,” Roz said. “As much as I like the rest of it, all I can think about is the drum.”
He placed his hand on her thigh, fingers itching to slip higher. He knew exactly what she was saying. She explained the tension between them perfectly. Then she talked about drums and—fuck, he was a goner. He was completely lost over her.
He pulled up in front of her place, Roz unbuckled before the truck was in Park. She muttered something that sounded like, “Finally,” before she jumped out. When Patrick got out, Roz was there, waiting for him. She took his hand and led him across the street. “You’ve got to be quick up the driveway. If my family spots us, it’s game over. We’ll be playing pinnacle with Abuelita for the rest of the night. And I love her, dearly, but I’m so wet for you right now I’ll die if you’re not inside me in the next ten
minutes.”
“Roz!” Patrick tugged on her arm, spinning her back around, into him.
“What?” She arched an eyebrow.
“You.” He looked at this woman pressed against him, slowly leading him up those stairs. Gorgeous. Smart. Cool. “You do things to me.”
She laughed again. “Just wait.”
Once they got to the top of the landing, Roz pulled her keys out to unlock the door but tugged on the handle before inserting the key and the door gave way. “Hmm. Weird. I must have forgotten to lock it.” She pulled Patrick in by the fabric of his jacket. “I never do that. Especially with this case I’m working on…”
Their hands and mouths were on each other immediately, hot and frantic. Patrick hoisted her up onto the dining room table. They tugged at each other’s clothes, and hair and…
“What the fuck, Abrams?” The unfamiliar voice jolted Patrick out of the kiss.
Roz’s recovery was impressive. “What the fuck yourself, Jones.” She didn’t seem the least bit surprised, but Patrick was. There was a six foot something ripped Seal look-alike in blue slacks and a blue tucked-in T-shirt with a firefighter emblem over his pec standing in her living room, holding a beer.
Does Roz have a roommate?
That’s when he spotted the bouquet of red roses beside her on the table and a horrifying realization settled over him…
“I guess I know now why you’ve been ghosting me.” Jones sneered at Patrick.
“Are you drunk?” She jumped off the table and then ripped the bottle from his hand, turning the label. “Ah, with my beer even.” She went into the kitchen. That other guy followed her.
That’s when he felt it, the coldness that fell over him, the embarrassment…the loss.
“Roz, look at me.” He settled in behind her as she dumped his beer down the sink. They were in a different room, but there was a giant cutout in it. It wasn’t private, it wasn’t as if Patrick weren’t standing right there, but it felt like that anyway. “What’s going on with us?” He touched her, drawing a slow finger down her neck.
Patrick blinked, torn between wanting to strangle this guy and feeling as if he should be leaving them alone. “Should I go?”
Roz whipped around, shoving the guy she’d called Jones out of the way. “No.” She turned back to the other guy. “Oscar, you’ve got to leave.”
Oscar sized Patrick up again. “No way. No way in hell you’re leaving me for him.”
“I’m not leaving you for him. You know what our arrangement was.” She glanced at Patrick obviously uncomfortable with labeling them. She shook her head as if to clear a thought. “We were friends who occasionally slept together. Now I’m done having sex with you.”
“Is this an age thing?”
“Partly.” Roz tossed up her hands. “Not entirely. It’s just not here anymore. Don’t you want butterflies?”
Oscar grabbed her and pulled her into him. “I want you.”
“I care about you. I think we had a great run but I’m over it. I’m not interested in continuing any kind of relationship outside a friendly work-relationship with you. I don’t want you showing up here anymore. I definitely don’t want you breaking into my place anymore.”
“I didn’t break in. I used a key.”
“I think you need to go home and sleep this off.”
On his way out the door, Oscar eyed Patrick up. “I don’t know you, but I don’t need to know you to know she’s too good for you.”
* * * *
Patrick had driven Oscar home. The poor fool couldn’t very well drive himself. Roz was a cop, after all. It had just been the right thing to do, even if it was painfully awkward. Roz had ridden with him and the ride back to her place was just as painful and awkward.
“I’m sorry about all of that,” she whispered and slipped her hand over to squeeze his thigh. Patrick just felt steely metallic dread coat his throat.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Do you still want to come up?” she hedged, her voice not sounding near as aloof as her face looked.
“I’m tired.”
“Come upstairs and let me make this up to you.”
Patrick couldn’t even feel excitement about that prospect. He just felt like shit. Why was she with him? What were they doing? “When were you with Oscar last?”
“What?” She sounded offended, and Patrick winced. He didn’t have any right asking those questions but he felt as if he needed to know.
“Before this started. At least a week prior.”
Patrick’s eyes widened as he clenched his hands tighter on the steering wheel. This was still fresh. It had only been a month. “And, what is this?”
Roz twirled a strand of her hair around a finger and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know. I like you, Patrick. We have fun together. Can we just keep doing whatever this is as long as we’re still having fun?”
“And then what? Am I going to come home one day and find you with the next guy? I don’t want to be your next Oscar.”
“First of all, this is not his place—”
“He has a key, Roz.”
“No. He knew where my hide-a-key was. Not the same thing. Are you honestly taking his side here?”
“No. But he showed up with roses. I can’t get his face out of my head. That guy was completely side-swiped by this. I don’t want to not label things. I don’t want to only do this so long as it’s fun. I’m all in here. I am. I know that’s fast. I know as the guy, I’m supposed to hold my cards closer to my chest than this but I like you. I like you and I want to call that something. I want to trust you. I want to know that one day I’m not going to wake up and find that you’re ignoring me and moved on with someone else. We both know you’re not settling for this for the long haul.” He motioned to the length of him.
“Are you really this insecure?” Roz pulled back.
Patrick scrubbed his hand down his face. He was probably projecting some of that. Roz was not Sylvia. He took a deep breath. “No. Not usually.”
“I made it explicitly clear to Oscar what we were—repeatedly. He knew exactly what he was getting into. He wanted more. I got out.”
“Can we make it explicitly clear what this is?” Patrick motioned between them.
She reached for the handle of the truck. “I think maybe we should table this conversation and try again with some distance from everything that happened tonight.”
“Yeah,” Patrick agreed. “Maybe.”
“I’ll text you.”
Patrick nodded but he wasn’t holding his breath.
Chapter 17
Roz
DRUMMING her fingers on the table top, Roz let out a sigh and sent a sideways glance at her phone lying next to her. No new messages or calls.
She had messed up—bad.
So bad.
She should have just answered her phone when Oscar kept calling and told him to fuck off. Now she may have lost Patrick, and the never-ending pit in her stomach hadn’t left since that night.
“Another beer?” Hannah asked, opening the fridge in Roz’s kitchen.
“Yeah.” Roz tipped back the last swallow of the one she had in her hand.
Hannah slid an unopened beer across the table to her. They were having a much-needed girls’ night of pizza and beer. Roz wanted something to get her mind clear. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She felt like a different person since she had met him, a better person, and she didn’t want to lose that.
“This pizza is delicious.” Hannah moaned, biting into another piece.
Roz had barely touched hers. She picked off a piece of pepperoni and threw it into her mouth.
“Perk up, chicà.” Hannah sent her a threatening look. “You can’t be mopey on girls’ night.”
“I know, I know. This whole thing just…has me in knots.” Roz put her hand on her stomach as if she felt the actual knots through her T-shirt.
/> “Why? You’ve hooked up with guys before who have had stronger feelings than you and you have always been fine when it was over.” Hannah was exactly right and that was the whole problem.
“I don’t know why this time is different.” She heard herself whining and she didn’t like it, she didn’t like any of this. She felt as if she were falling down a black hole and hadn’t seen the surface in days. She didn’t care that Oscar was out of her life, so why did this bother her so much with Patrick? She turned her attention back to Hannah. “How did the chicken soup go over?”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “I’m babysitting on Saturday so she can go out on a date.” She shrugged, her gaze cast downward. “It could have gone better.”
“I’m sorry.” Roz felt horrible. At least she had someone to be heartbroken over. Roz couldn’t even remember the last time Hannah had brought a girl around.
Hannah raised her gaze and waved a hand through the air. “It’s whatever. I was taking a risk with that one anyway.” She let out a small, forced laugh. “So, this time feels different for you, huh? Was the sex that good?” Hannah quirked an eyebrow. Roz knew she was deflecting, and she wasn’t going to push her to talk more.
“You have no idea.” Roz shook her head, feeling her heart clench at the thought of never being with him again. “It was more than the sex, though. He’s so funny and sweet and so…so…wonderful. I don’t know.” She picked at the label on her beer bottle with a fingernail. She didn’t like this vulnerable feeling that swallowed her up.
Hannah was full blown smiling at her now, a knowing look in her eye. “Have you messaged him?”
“Yeah, I sent him a text the next night.”
Hannah took a pull off her beer. “What did you say?”
“I apologized again, and I asked if he wanted to come over so I could make it up to him.”
“So, you asked him to come over for a booty call?”
Roz shook her head. “No, I asked if he wanted to come over.” That was not the same thing. She just wanted to see him and touch him.
