Текст книги "Once Kissed"

Автор книги: Cecy Robson

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Chapter 9

Curran

We enter Sal’s Sports Bar just before the big game and about five minutes before the place is overtaken by angry 76ers fans out for blood. Two plates are slammed down, topped with Sal’s infamous cheesesteaks and spilling with chips. One for me. One for Tess. Perfect.

“That’s a lot of food,” she says, gaping at her plate.

“Yup. Sal’s known for his portions.” I take a bite when Sal’s wife, Mina, drops off my milkshake. “Thanks, Mina,” I say through a mouthful of food.

“No problem, Curran. Tell your ma hi for me.”

“Sure thing, Mina.” I lift the shake to take a sip in time to catch Tess eyeing it up. I offer it to her. “Here.”

She shakes her head. “Ah, no. I shouldn’t.”

“I haven’t touched it yet.”

She laughs a little. “It’s not that. It’s the calories.”

“What about them?”

“My weight is carefully managed,” she explains slowly, a bit of a sting to her tone. “I’ve gained quite a few pounds since we graduated college.”

“I noticed. And every last one looks damn good—” I stop myself a little too late. Rather than make another stupid comment or keep focusing on her rack, I dig into my steak like a linebacker following the playoffs. Her thin brows lift, reflecting her surprise.

Nice, Curran. Real nice. I need to keep my thoughts to myself. But since I kissed Tess, it’s all I can think about. That, and kissing a lot more than just her mouth.

Last night, seeing how I couldn’t sleep, I almost called downtown and asked to switch with a different badge. Two things stopped me: I didn’t want to be a pussy, and I didn’t want to not see Tess. But it was the latter that kept me up in more ways than one.

Again, I watch her take small, delicate bites, relishing every morsel with her eyelids closed. Man, what I wouldn’t give to have those lids flutter for me as I plow into her with everything I have.

“Shit.”

She swallows. “What’s wrong?”

“Ah, nothing. I think I left my lights on.”

She glances out the window and in the direction of the lot. “Aren’t they automatic?”

Shit again. “Yeah. They are.” I push my milkshake closer to her. “Here. Try it. It’s vanilla with chunks of pineapple.”

She pauses, but then lifts the glass and takes a sip, dripping the ice cream against her lips. And man, I swear that’s the last thing I need to see. She laughs and licks her lips. Okay, scratch what I said. That’s the last thing I need to see.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be so messy.” She licks her lips again. And again.

Aw, hell. I dive into my food like Ma’s life depends on it. “May I have some more?” she asks in her sexy voice.

“Baby, take every last swallow.” I cringe when I realize how that sounded, only to swear out loud again when she looks at me like I’m nuts.

“Thank you,” she says, quietly.

We don’t speak again until the end of the meal. With the exception of a few pieces of bread and some chips, Tess ate the whole thing, albeit in that careful way of hers.

I steal a chip from her plate and munch. She keeps quiet with her hands wrapped around her glass of iced tea. “Food okay?” I ask her.

She tries to smile. “It was delicious. Thank you.”

“Then what’s up?” I ask, aware that something is.

“Well, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the night we…you know.”

I roll my eyes. “Tell me about it. We fucked like gorillas.”

Her jaw pops open. “Curran. That’s so offensive!”

“Sorry,” I offer. “I didn’t mean to call you a gorilla.”

For a second there, I’m not sure if she’s going to throat-punch me. But I can’t hide my smirk, and she can’t hide her laugh. Okay. Good. We’re headed in the right direction. The proper direction. The one that doesn’t involve me hooking the crotch of her panties with my finger and ripping them off her.

I rub my face. Christ.

She shoves my shoulder playfully. Well, at least she tries to. It’s a cute move. Too cute. Damn, I want her.

She shakes her head. “Officer O’Brien, you have absolutely no class.”

“I’m the classiest guy you’ll ever meet, angel face.”

She takes a sip of her tea. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Her smile returns when she places her glass back on the checkered tablecloth, lighting her perfect features. It’s then I realize there’s no going back.

So I go for it.

“Why do you have a problem with what happened between us?”

Her stare falls to the table. “You know why. It’s not the sort of behavior I ever engaged in.” She lowers her voice. “And I deeply regret it.”

Her thick lashes brush against her lenses as she waits for me to speak. The color’s returned to her cheeks, and her hair falls around her shoulders in sensual waves. God damn she’s beautiful.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and tell myself, Self, you just need to calm your shit and move on. Tell her it’s all good and not to worry. That you’ve forgotten all about that night and haven’t given it another thought. Well, given I’m kind of an asshole, and I don’t listen to assholes, I ignore me.

I lean forward so my face is only a few inches from hers. “Did you like it?”

She lifts her chin. “What?”

“Did you like it? Did it feel good?”

She opens and closes her mouth several times, just like she does whenever I tell her something she might not want to hear. She then glances around to see who’s listening before hunkering in close. “What does that have to do with anything?” she whispers, tightly.

I give her a one-shoulder shrug. “Just answer the question.”

Tess presses her full lips together, and for a second, I’m sure she’s going to lie and say no. Then I see it, that spark in her eyes that tells me she’s remembering what I did, and maybe how I held her hair when she fell to her knees and pulled me into her mouth. “Yes,” she answers. “I did like it.”

I latch on to her gaze and hold it. It’s only for a moment, but it’s long enough to show her that I know she’s thinking about us, and what we did. I take a sip of my water. “Then what’s to regret?” I lean back, pretending not to care, and that the conversation is over. But I’m a man, after all, and now I can’t shake the image of her riding me hard.

Shit.

“Did you like it?” she asks, barely above a whisper.

I pause before reaching for my water glass again. Yeah, the old jeans aren’t as loose as when I first sat down. “Sure.” Another sip, another stretch against the denim.

“That’s it?” she asks. “That’s all you’re going to say.”

I grin then. “Were you expecting something else?”

She adjusts her glasses. Aw, hell, did I mention she does naughty librarian well? “I just thought you’d elaborate,” she stammers. “You always have a lot to say.”

I laugh. “You saying I run my mouth?”

Her voice quiets. “Not when it matters, Curran.”

Ouch.

Considering she called me out, I don’t say anything right away. My eyes travel to her neckline. It’s high enough to be respectable, but low enough to give me a peek at the swells of her breasts. My jeans tighten further when I think how good it’d feel to give those nipples a flick. “You want me to elaborate?” I ask, my voice deepening.

“No.”

“No?”

She plays with her hands, growing flustered. “I just assumed you would.”

I think back to that night, how we couldn’t stop touching each other or driving each other wild. And yeah, maybe I also think about how those doe eyes watched me when she swallowed before I threw her on the bed and returned the favor tenfold.

Maybe that’s why I shoot off my mouth before I can stop myself. “I like the way you tasted,” I admit.

Her fingers tighten around her glass. “Tasted?” she squeaks.

“That’s right.” I finish my water, slowly, as if my comment’s no big deal. As if I’m not popping enough wood to shame a forest.

I fix my attention on the giant flat screen, where the 76ers are trying to keep the Bulls from scoring. It looks like a good game, but all I see is Tess and her spread legs, begging me for it.

I’m hard as a bowling pin and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Not here, and not with Tess.

As the game progresses, I settle enough to stand, but not enough to walk straight.

I can’t forget my time with Tess.

Or that she’s close enough to touch.

“Come on,” I tell her. “I’ll take you home.”

We reach the car as the first few snowflakes break through the clouds. She slips inside quietly when I open her door, keeping her face away from mine. It’s just as well. Declan would beat my ass if he knew I crossed a line. For all the ball-busting I do, the job means everything to me. I can’t jeopardize it for a skirt.

No matter how pretty that skirt is.

The flakes morph from the thick ones that don’t quite stick to the little bastard ones that do. This is the type of snow that causes roads to ice over and businesses to shut down. Already a good chunk of it is accumulating on the wipers. I adjust their speed as we draw closer to Tess’s place, but by the time I pull into the lot, they’re on their highest setting.

I park as close as I can to the door and cut the engine, snagging her arm when she opens the door. “Wait. Don’t get out without me. You’re gonna kill yourself in those shoes.”

I walk around and help her out. She wraps her arms around mine. “Is this okay?” she asks carefully, motioning to the way she’s holding me.

And damn it all, her doe eyes are looking up at me again. “Yeah. Sure,” I say, leading her forward, my voice gruff.

Her arms slide away from mine as we wait for the elevator. Neither of us speaks. Maybe it’s better this way, I tell myself.

I step through when the doors open on her floor, making sure everything’s clear before allowing her into the hall. It’s too cold to wait in my car. I’ll probably have to keep watch from the chair at the end of the hall until Lu arrives.

It’s going to be a long few hours. Not just because of my stakeout point, but because of all my thoughts revolving around Tess’s panties hitting the floor.

Sports. Think sports, asshole.

I press my back against the wall as I wait for her to unlock her apartment. She fumbles with her keys, appearing to struggle with the one to her deadbolt. Her hands are shaking; she’s probably cold.

“Here. I got it,” I say, lifting the keys from her hand.

I unlock the door and push it open before dropping her keys into her open palm. “Thank you,” she says, noticing that I’m doing my best not to touch her.

Without another word, I proceed ahead and do a full sweep of her apartment. When I’m done, I notice she’s still waiting by the door. She hung up her coat and placed her purse on the antique table, but that shouldn’t have taken her long. Why is she still standing there?

She inches forward so she’s just in front of that hall table, her hands folded over her flat stomach. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I say, wondering why she seems on edge. I prowl forward when she doesn’t move and stop directly in front of her. “What’s up?”

“When you said—” She clears her throat and looks around. But there’s not much there.

It’s just me and her.

“Just say it,” I tell her, my voice unusually tight.

Again, she clears her throat, this time meeting me square in the face. “When you said you liked how I tasted, you weren’t talking about the way we kissed, were you?”

It’s as if every shred of body heat heads south and straight into my erection. “No,” I bite out.

I’m not sure who leans in first, and I don’t care. Our lips smash into each other and our bodies collide.

My hands immediately grab her hips, smoothing down to palm her ass. I back her into the table, barely managing to flip the deadbolt while she yanks off my jacket.

We’re all over each other. My fingers, they can’t keep still. They rake up her body, tangling in her hair as I pull her closer and deepen our kiss. My opposite hand trails from the nape of her neck to her breasts and back up, teasing her as it slides along the silky fabric. She moans. She likes it. Maybe she’ll like this, too.

I curl my body to shove my hand beneath her long skirt. She breaks our kiss, groaning when I rub my fingers along the crotch of her panties. “Do you want me to stop?” I rasp against her ear.

“No,” she whimpers. “Please don’t stop.”

It’s all I need to hear. I tear off her panties and hoist her onto the small table. “Open your legs for me, beautiful.”

Her head falls against the wall as she complies, pulling her skirt up and dropping her knees open. She gasps when I part her folds, my tongue immediately finding the spot I need.

I don’t just lick, or suck, or nibble. I devour her soft flesh, pulling it into my hot mouth.

Tess cries out, her pelvis tilting back and forth against my face, her movements fast and forcing the table to slam in a perfect beat against the wall. “Curran,” she gasps. “God, Curran.”

Her hands smooth over my head, pulling me closer and deeper. I shove her knees out, extending her as far as she can go, knowing I need more of her.

She comes with a loud grunt, but it’s not loud enough. So I keep going, until those grunts turn into throaty screams.

My erection punches against my jeans. The moment her hold on me loosens, and the trembles of her thighs subside, I back away, barely managing to keep my feet when I reach for my jacket.

Her breath is labored, her skin is flushed, and her blouse is clinging to her sweat-soaked body. For a moment, all she does is watch me, her glazed eyes locked on my face. As her flaccid legs drop, and she releases her long skirt, I back into the hall and stumble out the door.

Pain throbs where all my blood is pooling, and every movement fucking kills, but I manage a wink before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “ ’Night, Tess.”

I shut the door and stagger into the elevator when it dings open. Christ. Now what? And what the hell am I going to do about—

The doors start closing when Tess bolts toward me, her fist striking the button to stop the elevator between floors. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t have to. Her actions are loud enough. She throws herself against me, kissing me for all she’s worth.

I drag her closer, letting her tongue savor every bit of me mixed with her. She hasn’t bothered to pull on panties. Her bare ass gripped in my hands is proof of that. I moan against her lips, wanting to go down on her again. But this time, she’s the one who wants to play. She tugs down my jeans, reaches inside my briefs, and takes me deep into her mouth.

My back crashes into the wall. Oh, fuck.

The feel of her has me groaning. I’ve never been loud when I’ve messed around. But I am now. And so is Tess, the popping sound of her tightening lips throwing me over the edge.

My hands fist her hair while she digs her nails into my hips, encouraging me to pump. She works me, tapering her seal, sucking firmly, rubbing fast. But it’s not until I come that she meets my eyes again, finishing me off with those perfect lips.

This time, it’s her turn to stumble when she stands, her turn to stagger away slowly. She hits a few buttons, returning the elevator to her floor, her eyes never leaving mine.

The doors open and she steps out, smiling playfully as she wipes her mouth. “Good night, Curran,” she sings. She gives me her back, but then pauses to toss me an impish glance over her shoulder. “By the way, I like how you taste, too.”

The doors slam shut. It’s only then I remember my jeans are draped around my ankles.

Chapter 10

Tess

It takes all the energy I have not to collapse and crawl back into my apartment. Good heavens, what did I do? I swallow hard.

Oh, yes, that.

I shut my door behind me, lock it, and slide my back against it and down to the floor.

The wood floor feels cold against my backside and a cool chill greets my spread legs. It’s because your panties are over there, I remind myself.

Curran didn’t notice my generic underwear. But even if he had, I don’t think he cared. I hadn’t cared. And in remembering how his tongue swirled and his lips suckled, I don’t think…wait, what’s my name again?

My head spins as I think about how I clutched him against me, how I didn’t want him to stop, and how I screamed for more. I want him. There’s no denying it now.

Even though I probably shouldn’t have him.

I wrench myself from the floor, my hot skin cooling quickly as I wander into the kitchen. I wash my hands, then open the refrigerator door to sort through what remains.

Damnit. I have just enough food to get through the weekend before the grocery clerk delivers more on Monday. If Curran hadn’t taken me out to eat, I would have gone hungry today. Although I’m typically more careful, I hadn’t rationed out my food allotment for the week appropriately.

I check the bundle of kale. Although I’ve developed a tremendous distaste for it, I’m sad to find that the edges have begun to wilt. The late nights of helping Declan this week, followed by the even later nights of studying, had demanded more calories to help me function. And kale, let me tell you, doesn’t quite cut it.

I shut the crisper tight, knowing I’ll need more food to keep going. But I don’t dare make that request now. Father’s still pissed. I don’t have to call him to know that.

Well, today he’s not alone.

The strict meal plan he concocted infuriates me. So does his notion that I’m putting on too much weight—especially knowing how badly I struggled with anorexia. Jesus, it’s not enough to buy me clothes I despise, or keep me from making friends by denying me a phone and a car, and sticking me in a place where only elderly people live. He won’t let me work to earn my own money—and he doesn’t give me any money to live on. Nothing. Not even enough to buy myself a cup of coffee.

Around Christmas, he gave me twenty dollars. It joined the almost one hundred dollars I’ve saved throughout the last two years. “What do you need with more of my money?” he asked the last time I worked up the courage to request an allowance. “I already provide you with a home, clothing, and food.”

Is this crazy—like batshit crazy? Yes. Of course it is! I doubt, though, that many people would understand why I tolerate it.

What it comes down to is fear. Fear of making him angry, which my mother always warned me against. Fear he’ll hurt me physically, like he did so many times when I was young, and frail, and helpless. Fear I’ll be homeless and alone.

To some, this fear isn’t rational. To me, it’s all I’ve ever known. That, and his severe control.

I don’t have a bank account and I don’t have any credit. He’s told me that if I get a job, he’ll cut me off and I’ll be burdened with rent and utilities I can’t afford and saddled with several hundred thousand dollars in tuition. I’ve tried to apply for academic scholarships, only to have an administrator call my father and be forced to withdraw my application.

My father has me right where he wants me, and he knows it. And every time I focus on what a tyrant he is, I become blind with anger. And yet, even my anger isn’t enough to stop me from being afraid.

This time, though, my emotions fizzle before they threaten to choke me. I shut the stainless-steel door. Curran’s kindness saved me from hunger, but his touch…now, that did a lot more.

I don’t realize I’m smiling until the phone rings and I sense my good humor fade. Father’s likely calling to inform me of my latest punishment.

“Hello?” I answer, my tone clipped.

“I take it it wasn’t as good for you as it was for me?” Curran asks on the other end.

My skin prickles with heat. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

He pauses. “Another guy?”

“No!” I shake out my hand, trying to settle. “Not like that. Not like you.”

“Not like what we just did?”

I fall against my couch. “No, nothing like that.” Ah, and there’s my smile again.

“Good,” he says.

I think I should say something more; instead I wait for him to speak.

“So,” he says. “We messed around. Like, a lot.”

I sense the regret in his voice. “Curran, don’t,” I find myself pleading.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t tell me that you’re sorry, or that you didn’t mean it.” Seeing as your tongue told a different tale.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it, or didn’t want what happened, ’cause I did.”

“Then why do you sound so upset?”

“Tess, it’s my job to watch you. I don’t get paid to go down on you.”

His bluntness catches me off guard, and perhaps it does him, too. “Well, you know what I mean,” he adds.

“You were watching me.” I grimace when I hear him laugh. “Not during the act, but when I– What I’m trying to explain is that regardless of what occurred between us, you performed well—”

“I could tell by the way you were screaming.”

Good. Lord. I clear my throat. “What I mean is you swept the apartment for any potential threats—”

“And then yanked off your panties like a teen trying to get laid,” he reminds me.

Curran really has a talent for stopping me in my tracks. Despite my litigation training, I can barely find my voice. “And—and you made sure I was safe—”

“Up until I tossed you on the table and spread your legs wide open.”

Perspiration builds between my breasts. “My point is, you made sure all was well before we, I mean, before you did what you did.”

“How about afterward? Did I make sure all was well after you left me in the elevator? Nope. While I was trying to pull up my pants, some psycho could have come out of your neighbor’s apartment and killed you.”

“That was my fault. You were distracted following the, ah, attention I gave you.”

“And that’s exactly my point. I’m on duty, Tess. This can’t happen again.”

In the silence that follows, I notice how cold my apartment is. As I consider what to say, I wander into my bedroom to check the thermostat. I stop dead when I see the note my father taped beside it.

Contessa,

I think you need reminding who provides you a home to reside in, and all the luxuries that come with it. Your heat has been disconnected. It will remain that way for the rest of the week to give you time to reflect on my generosity and how quickly it can abandon you.

He signed it Donald Newart II.

Damnit. It’s a wonder he didn’t disconnect all my utilities! “Are you saying you don’t want me?” I manage, the hostility directed at my father finding its way to my voice.

“No.” Curran’s tone is absolute. “I’m only saying I can’t have you when I’m on the job.”

Good to know. “What time is your shift over?”

The allure in my voice is clear, and Curran doesn’t hesitate. “A couple of hours.”

I crumple the note with my free hand. “Well then, let’s say in a couple of hours you pay me a visit. It’s cold in my apartment. How would you like to keep me warm?”