Текст книги "Shut In"
Автор книги: Cee Smith
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 7 страниц)
Chapter Eight
With eyes closed, I stretched my body into a cobra pose, breathing deeply through my nose and exhaling from my mouth. I relaxed my mind and body before diving back into the Farrows case.
“Now, I see how you’re so limber.”
His voice was a jolt of electricity, reminding me of the power he held over my body. Just a subtle hint of his spicy masculine scent and a few brief words and my body sparked to life, reminding me of the needs I’d been neglecting for months.
He strode in, smacking my butt as he passed me on his way to the desk. He set something down and then turned to face me. I felt his eyes pass over my body slowly, like ice cream dripping down a cone on a hot, sunny day. With his tall, thick body stretched out against my desk, I did some visual devouring of my own. I traced his bare chest: the contours of his muscles, his nipples tight with the morning chill.
“Do you mind?” I said when I came to my senses. It was hard to do with a half-naked Joel, but I somehow managed.
“I don’t actually. I have an idea.”
“You get many of those?”
“From time to time. I was thinking, let’s spice up our routine today. You can show me this,” he said, waving his hand to indicate my position. “And I’ll show you some CrossFit workouts. Ever tried it?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Great. Then it’s settled.”
He turned back around, and I caught a glimpse of the thing he held in his hand earlier. My phone. He pressed a few buttons and the top 40 filled the silence of the room. It was just low enough to still talk over, but loud enough to create background noise. Anything to mask the sound of whistling winds and roving debris that sounded like it wanted to rip the tiles right off my roof.
I stood up, knowing my session had officially ended, though I wasn’t as upset at the disruption to my routine as I ordinarily would have been.
“And what do you get out of this?” I asked with arms folded across my chest. Not that I didn’t mind watching his body contort and stretch, unlocking the mass of his muscles from rock solid to something a little closer to thick putty.
“Quality time? Girls like that, right?”
“Fine.”
I knew he was just here to goof off, but I actually liked spending time with him. Joel was smart, funny, witty, charming, with the body of a god and the mind of a 16-year-old boy.
Trouble. That’s what Joel was.
I knew it.
I could feel it.
In every loose smile and quick retort. In the way he could spin me in circles with his words, making me feel like a mere bystander in a conversation between just the two of us. And I was no country bumpkin.
As I settled Joel into the first position, guiding his arms and legs into a position that was no more complex than a simple stretch, I thought about the man from the bar. The mountain of a man who seemed out of my league, who looked like he could have been born in the suit he wore—it fit him so well. That man and this one seemed like they existed in parallel universes.
“You said you’re an only child?” I asked, holding his arm in place.
“Yeah. Why? You already trying to upgrade me?”
“Would you blame me? You’re kind of a handful.” His lips spread wide, smiling clear to his eyes, and I realized what I’d said. Did I say 16-year-old mind? I meant 13-year-old mind.
“That’s what she said.”
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
His body wobbled, thrown off balance by the subtle shake of his head.
“You know, when I first met you I actually thought you were one of those fitness trainers. Wait, you never told me what your business actually does.”
“Telecommunications. Although, I’m glad you appreciate the package.”
We spent the next ten minutes rolling through a few moves, but I could tell he wasn’t really focused on yoga. It’s not like he was genuinely interested. It was probably just an excuse to be near me and have my hands all over him, not that he needed an excuse.
“Why don’t you show me that move you were doing earlier? You know the one. You looked like the Little Mermaid, except less Disney and more siren.” I suppressed a chuckle and guided him down, but when I leaned over, he pulled me down with him, suspending my body with the weight of one arm. I squealed and pleaded for him to put me down until we both collapsed onto the ground.
“Don’t do that.” I smacked at his chest playfully. His chest shook with laughter, and he pulled me over his body so my knees rested on either side of his hips and my butt sat on the other side of his freshly sprouted erection. The thick muscle held me in place, sitting snug against my backside.
“OK, now show me some of this CrossFit stuff.”
“Lift your hips a little.” I rose higher on my knees and felt his cock protesting every inch that moved me farther away. He swiveled his body until his chest was to the ground and I was now sitting with my legs just around his waist.
“You can sit now.”
“You don’t want me to get up?”
“No. You weigh nothing…how am I looking in terms of brownie points?”
I slapped his back like a jockey lashing their horse to attention. It was with all of the effort I could muster to not molest him with my hands, lingering within the groove of thick muscle that bunched together between his shoulder blades. The muscles tightened and released with every rise and fall of Joel’s arms. I counted out every push-up, impressed by his sheer strength. Strength I’d seen firsthand as he spent the last couple days tossing me around the bedroom like a hacky sack.
Joel ran through a bunch of different exercises, ones I was sure he did every day. When our eyes met, I could see how much he wanted me to be proud of his physical capabilities. He didn’t so much teach me as he showed off, but I didn’t mind stroking his ego. I had to commend him for the work it probably took to achieve his Adonis-like physique.
“All right, all right. You’re just showing off at this point.”
“Honey, you ain’t seen nothing,” Joel said with an awkward twang that was about as forced as me trying to stick my size six ass in a size four dress.
“A buddy of mine down at the gym calls me ‘EJ Showtime.’ What can I say? I was born with great stamina.”
I missed the reference, but that was common, seeing as how I was usually too busy to keep up with pop-culture references. Joel continued his burpees, his body moving swiftly through the air.
The more I watched him, the more I tried to decipher what he said. It niggled at the back of my mind, taunting me to finally understand.
EJ.
“Is that a nickname—EJ?”
His face faltered, a look I’d seen on many guilty faces. A face I’d seen on someone who knew that their fate had been sealed.
“Yeah. Something like that. I go by my middle name. Not a lot of people call me EJ anymore.” There was a certain sadness in his words, but it didn’t wash away the memory of the expression I had seen not two minutes before.
I’d almost forgotten the music playing in the background when a series of beeps went off. The same beeps signaling an emergency broadcast.
Joel and I darted over to the desk. He beat me there, and with large, fumbling paws, he turned up the volume so we could hear the announcement. I checked the top, left corner of my phone to see if it was showing some kind of reception, and sure enough I had one measly bar. Not enough to make a phone call, but apparently enough to transmit the broadcast.
“This is a weather report for the following counties…” The automated voice carried on listing all of the counties in the surrounding area while Joel and I fidgeted until the announcement continued on. “The storm is abating. Some counties may find relief in a matter of hours, but all counties should be in the clear in a couple of days. Please do not open your windows or doors until an announcement is made for your county.” The phone signaled the end of the message, and Joel turned the phone back down before it repeated again.
“Looks like we won’t need to Shawshank our way out of here after all.”
I looked at him and smiled, but really my mind was elsewhere, still sifting through our conversation before the PSA rang out. I was looking for something. It was there on the tip of my tongue like a memory waiting to be recalled. Was it something he said? Something that resembled déjà vu?
“What are you getting into now?”
“Huh? Oh, I’ve got some more work to catch up on.”
There goes that look again.
He smiled nervously and said, “Don’t work too hard,” as he set my phone back on my desk and left the room. The door closed behind him, and I flew into my chair like a woman on a mission. Except, I wasn’t quite sure what I was looking for, just that the itch that had been gnawing at me for days had reached a fever-pitch, and I wasn’t letting one more day go by without getting to the bottom of it.
I wasn’t conscious of how long I sat in that chair, poring over papers until words became a blur. It was something I’d read, something I’d heard. I ripped through papers until my fingertips were slashed to ribbons by paper cuts.
And then, like a voice whispering in my ear, I heard the thing that had sent my head into a tailspin, careening into memories of something I’d read. When nothing turned up in the number of folders scattered across my desk, I turned to my laptop. A warning popped up reminding me of the 5% battery life that was evaporating with every key pressed and document opened, but it only drove me to type quicker, to look harder.
The lights in the room flickered on and died out, an impending sign that we were to be one of the first counties to emerge from the storm. The power flickered on and off like the flame of a candle resisting the wind. After minutes of back and forth, it looked like the power had finally made up its mind to stay on.
I could have run to the kitchen to grab my charger, buying myself the much-needed time to continue my pursuit, but I was close. Adrenaline coursed through my veins causing my fingers to skitter across the keys of my laptop. I was so close. All I had to do was keep looking.
Ms. Farrows’s recount of the fifteenth—the day she went to Mr. Trevaunt’s home.
I don’t know what guided me back to that file, but I clicked on it anyway. Saying to myself, if I’d read it a thousand times, I could read it one more just to be sure I’d looked in every door, pulled up every rug to find the elusive thing I’d been searching for.
My eyes skimmed across words, hoping one would stand out like a yellow raft in an ocean of blue.
I saw the words just as my computer made an exaggerated sighing sound and the screen flashed black. I saw them. It wasn’t a mistake, wasn’t a typo. They were there in black and white, visible to anyone with two eyes and the ability to read. Except my mind was still having trouble rectifying the words I’d read with what I knew in my mind, felt in my heart.
My legs lifted from the chair, carrying me through the door and to the living room where Joel sat on the couch with his phone in hand listening to another PSA. One I was sure that was signaling which counties were in the clear.
“Hey, your county was just cleared. Looks like I’ll finally be able to wear some clothes that actually fit,” Joel said with a smile that quickly soured upon meeting my face.
“Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“EJ? EJ Trevaunt?”
The power in the house may have turned on, but the sparkle burning in Joel’s eyes petered out.
To Be Continued…
Coming November 23, 2015
Shut Out (Just This Once, Book 2)
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Also by Cee Smith
Just This Once Series
Shut Out (Just This Once, Book 2) releasing 11/23/15
Shut Off (Just This Once, Book 3) releasing 12/7/15
Stolen Series
Stolen Donor (Stolen Series, Book 1)
Stolen & Fractured (Stolen Series, Book 2)
About The Author
Cee Smith is a lover of the written word. Since first learning how to string a sentence together, she’s been putting pen to paper and hasn’t looked back. Though she’s no longer obsessed with blood and gore, the dark side still calls to her, often finding refuge in her current writings. Her addiction to reading is what finally inspired her to take a chance at publishing.
A California native, currently residing in North Carolina with her husband. She loves salacious stories, true love and forbidden romances—the more angst the better. Other than reading and writing, some of her other obsessions are peanut butter (don’t get her started), Michael Fassbender, and watching TV.
She loves talking about the creative process and what books she’s reading, so feel free to shoot her a line here. Or if you just want to say hi that’s fine too. She swears she’ll respond.
