Текст книги "Uncovering Desire"
Автор книги: Kacey Shea
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
IT FEELS GOOD TO SHARE this with another person—someone I didn’t pay to sit and listen to my troubles. I don’t think I realized how much I needed this until now. Jon holds me and I feel safe, loved, at peace. Something nags in the back of my brain, though. What was my father doing in that club? What kind of case was Jon working? Did Jon know my dad would be there? Is that why he wanted to me to stay in the truck?
I pull back. I need to watch his reaction. The words tumble from my lips.
“Why were you at that club tonight?” His eyes sharpen and he returns my stare.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss.”
“Jon,” I warn, and allow anger to seep into my voice.
“Look. I can’t say why I was there tonight,” he bites out. He has the decency to look apologetic. What’s so important he can’t tell me the truth after I just gutted myself for him? I steady my voice, will myself to be patient.
“Can you tell me anything about my father?” Jon runs his hands over his scalp, releasing a breath.
“Yes. Look Kate, hear me out before you make any judgments.” This doesn’t sound promising. But I need to give him an opportunity to explain. I nod before I reply.
“Okay.”
He watches my face closely and the silence stretches between us. He finally speaks, voice calm and even.
“Your mom hired me two weeks ago to look into your father.”
“What? And you never thought to tell me?” I can’t help the anxiety and doubt that creep inside. He’s been working with my mom. I feel sick.
“Hear me out. She asked for my help with full discretion. She didn’t want Evie involved, either. I was curious, okay? I wanted to know whether I could figure out why you didn’t speak to them anymore. It was only a job, okay?” I shake my head.
“No. Not okay.” He scoots back an inch.
“After what you told me tonight and what I saw at the club, I’m returning your mom’s money. I’m letting her know tomorrow that I’m unable to do the job. That it crossed into what I was hired to do with Scottsdale PD.” His calculating gaze finds my own.
“And what’s that, exactly?”
“Kate, the stuff your dad’s involved in, it’s bad. Really bad. I was hired to do some surveillance for a suspected drug ring. I’m not even allowed to say that much, but I think you should know. He’s in some deep shit, Kate.”
“Yeah. I saw. I was there, remember,” I bite out. I still can’t believe he was working for my mother and never told me. I feel betrayed. Jon’s eyes harden. They pin me with a glare.
“Yes, and why the hell didn’t you stay in the truck like I asked?”
“You were taking too long. I thought I’d come find you.” Flipping my ponytail to the side, I play with the strands.
“I asked you to stay, though. Why do you always have to be so damn difficult? Seeing you with your dad, I lost my mind. I didn’t even think about how my actions would look. I put the undercover cop in danger. I put you in danger.” He clenches his fists and the vein at his neck throbs. He’s right, I should ’ve stayed like he asked. I didn’t know the danger I was walking into. I reach out to where his hand is still in a tight fist and lay mine over it.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
His eyes snap to my own, brows rise. “I’m right?”
A smirk pulls at my face. “Yeah, but don’t get used to it.” He laughs. “I should have listened to you. But you didn’t have to go and lose control just because my dad was spouting hurtful words.” His brows knit and he studies his hands.
“I don’t know. Seeing you there and hearing the words, I just snapped.” He shakes his head. An unease settles. That’s not like Jon. He doesn’t just anything. He’s in control, calculating. Always. If he hits someone it’s because he planned to or it’s in self-defense.
“Jon, I like that you want to protect me, but you can’t go hitting people or inanimate objects every time you’re angry. I get that you’re a trained killing machine, but recently something has changed. You’re not the type to fly off the handle.”
“Yeah, I feel out of control. I don’t like it.” I think back over the weeks and I’m certain this has to do with Will’s death. I don’t know if Jon’s going to like what I have to say, but I’m saying it anyway.
“Maybe you should talk to someone. Like a professional? I know I’m not perfect, but until I got help I couldn’t get out of the anger stage of grief. Not that I don’t get angry or sad anymore, but it’s not so out of control. I have my coping mechanisms—”
“You can’t run to a yoga mat every time shit hits the fan, Kate,” Jon bites out. It’s harsh. His shoulders square and he pulls his hands back behind him.
“Well you can’t put your fist through everything you don’t like.” Jon stands and walks to the door. I scramble to follow him, but as soon as I’m standing he halts in the doorway.
“Thanks for your concern, Kate, but I’m handling things.” I have to hold back a scoff. “I’ve got some calls to make. Get some rest.” He’s yet to meet my eyes and it angers me that this is how he’s going to walk away. A part of me longs to be held, to feel safe in his arms for the night, but I’m not going to ask for that. Especially when he’s not offering.
“Goodnight, Jon.” I walk to the doorway and let the door click shut behind me. His rough murmurs float down the hallway. He’s talking to the detective. I’m exhausted so I stumble to my bed and pull the covers around my body. I don’t even bother to wash my face or change my clothes before I give in to the pull of sleep.
“Kate, what are you doing?”
After waking and taking a shower this morning I found a voicemail from my super. The building was cleared by the state and I can move back anytime. A wave of disappointment hit first, followed by fear, then they settled into determination. I’m moving back today. My first reaction is to want to stay with Jon, but that’s not an option. I won’t let myself go there. It’s time to get the hell out.
“Oh, I’m packing.” I look up from the box into which I’m carefully placing my precious collection of Louboutins, Choos, and Valentinos. I paste on my perfect smile, the one that says everything is okay even when it’s not. He raises one eyebrow.
“I see that.”
“Okay, then.” I shrug, flip my hair, and go back to the task at hand. I stand and add the box to the others at the foot of Evie’s bed. After grabbing an empty duffle I move to the dresser and throw in my unmentionables.
I know he’s watching me from the doorway, but I refuse to halt my progress. He didn’t want to talk last night. He never came back to my room. I made him angry and he left, was cold, and that hurt after everything I shared.
“Kate,” his voice warns, and I release a breath before I meet his eyes.
“Look, I appreciate what you did last night. You’re a good friend, Jon.” And I do appreciate him. Only, the feelings he stirs inside unsettle my carefully constructed life. The one in which I know how to be happy.
“What if I don’t want to be your friend?” My gaze drops back to the drawer full of bras and panties.
“Oh. I guess that’s fair.” I attempt, unsuccessfully, to keep the hurt from my voice. Well, shit. I thought he considered me a friend. And after the past couple of weeks, well, his words hurt. His voice breaks my thoughts.
“Kate, I don’t want to be your friend because I want to be more.” My gaze lifts to his eyes. They’re filled with hope, almost pleading with my own. No.
“Jon, don’t. We’d be horrible together. I’m broken, you even said so last night. We’d argue constantly. You’d punch things. Or people. We can’t be together. You should be with someone nice, sweet. Someone like Carly.” There’s no way he wants me. He may think he does, but give us time and it’d be a disaster.
“Carly? Why are you even bringing her up?”
“Because you asked her to the gala.” I toss the duffle onto the bed and glance around the room to assess what still needs to be packed.
“Because you were already taking Trent!” Jon shakes his head and blows out a breath. “Kate, I don’t want Carly.” He crosses the threshold and I raise my hands. He stops.
“Someone who’s not me, then.” I speak plain and firmly.
“So, I don’t get a say in the matter? You’ve already decided for us?” The words tumble from his lips in a shout.
“I don’t want to fight. I just want to pack my things and get out of here. My super called, said the units are cleared for move in. And my car’s fully repaired. They’re dropping it by before work. So, you don’t have to put up with me anymore. I’ll be gone within the hour.” I keep my voice even. I don’t want to engage, because gazing into those brooding brown eyes, I know he can sway my decision. But I’ve made the right one.
“Damn it, Kate!” He turns and storms from the room. A few moments pass and I jump at the slam of the front door. Good, he left for his run. It’ll be easier to flee without him watching my every move. I release a humorless laugh. How twisted is that? I’m moving back to my apartment, in my car, and I consider it an escape. I shake my head and resume packing. Eye on the prize, Kate. Get things back to the way they were and I’m sure I’ll feel better.
PISSED OFF, I SLAM THE door to the apartment and break into a steady jog. Running helps clear my mind. Exercise, in general. There’s something so simplistic and basic about it. I can let my mind focus on what I know—movement, breath, sweat. The endorphins bring clarity, if only for a fleeting moment.
She can’t be fucking serious. Kate thinks she can just move out and things go back to the way they were? Hell no. Not on my watch. Fucking Kate Bryant. Why do things have to be so difficult? She frustrates the hell out of me. I pump my legs faster, moving into a steady pace. Not sure how long I want to run today. I hang a right at the corner and head west, away from the morning sun.
I handled last night poorly. She gave me so much of herself after the bout with her father. She’s a tough, strong woman. She’s earned my utmost respect. But when she jumped on the bandwagon of Jon-needs-a-shrink, it hurt. Had she been talking to Alex? Why does everyone suddenly think I’m about to lose my marbles? I’m fine. I’m handling things. I don’t need a doctor to tell me life is challenging, that Will’s death is not my fault. I already know these things. Having a damn pity party won’t make me feel better.
I paced my room for an hour last night. I wanted to go back to her. To apologize. To hold her. To make love to her. That led to more pacing, and then later, pushups until I couldn’t anymore. I was thankful when sleep took over and gave me rest from the thoughts that plagued. I wasn’t sure what to do.
That was, until this morning.
Seeing her packing her things was all wrong. Kate’s been driving me crazy for weeks, yet somehow I’ve become addicted. I don’t want her to leave. I want her to stay. That scares the shit out of me. To give someone that level of control over my life, it’s more than a little frightening. But I’ve tried fighting and the reality is that she already has a hold whether I want her to or not. I just have to give it a shot.
Her nonsense about us not being a fucking option, now that’s infuriating. That I should be with Carly? I’ve never wanted Carly. Carly would never crash her car for me, hold me when I cry, call me out on my bullshit. And I’ve done things for Kate I’d never do for any other woman. Hell, I’ve never baked a cake for anyone. Until Kate. I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now.
She’s my person.
I need to make things right. I turn before I reach the next light, back tracking my steps at a faster, steady sprint. Kate likes to be in control and I get that. But there is no way I’m letting her control this. I’ll just have to convince her otherwise. Yeah. I need to talk to Kate. Tell her how I feel. Prove to her that we can be good together.
Oh, but we are so fucking good together.
Her tight pussy milking my dick, ass bent over in those fuck me heels. The sounds she makes when I lick her out. My heart drums faster. Shaking my head, I push those thoughts from my mind. The sooner I convince Kate we’re meant to be, the sooner I can make her feel good.
I pump my legs as fast as they will go and sprint the entire way back to the apartment. I need to talk to Kate. And thinking about being intimate together is only making this run uncomfortable. The faster I can get home, the faster I can get my woman.
I throw open the front door of the apartment and call out for her. It’s too quiet. I sense if I go down the hall I’ll find an empty room, but I can’t fight the urge to check, regardless. The door is open, lights off, and, yep, she’s gone. The boxes from earlier are nowhere to be found. Kate’s sheets and blankets have been pulled off and replaced by Evie’s set.
“Damn it!” I stomp to the bathroom, peel away my sweaty clothes and toss them in a pile. I twist the faucet and the shower soon fills with steam. Kate’s gone; she might think she’s won. Yeah, not happening. I need a better game plan to think things through. My girl is stubborn and I'm preparing for an all-out battle of wills.
Squirting a glob of shampoo into my hands, I run my fingers over and through my hair. I rinse my head and then work the soap into a lather and run my hands down my torso. Thoughts of Kate, her beautiful spirit, feisty attitude, toned body, perky tits, and luscious, smart mouth, fuel my hands’ descent. I’m rock hard, stroking my length, imagining Kate’s hands are my own.
Leaning back against the fiberglass enclosure, I picture Kate on her knees before me. God, I wish she were with me now. Within minutes, I reach my orgasm, Kate’s name a prayer on my lips as my hands coat with evidence of my desire. I push off the wall and the spray from the showerhead collides against my stomach. I reach for the soap once more, and make quick work this time.
The tension I released only moments ago seeps back in. Masturbation is a hollow replacement for the real thing. Twisting the knob so the water slows to a stop, I resolve that the next time I get off in the shower Kate will be physically present instead of only in my thoughts.
Drying off, I fasten the towel around my waist. The bang of dishes clatters through the thin wall. She’s back. My heart races. I blow out a breath and prepare to take on my strong willed Kate. I throw open the bathroom door and saunter out.
“Couldn’t stay away, could you, beautiful?” I call down the hall. I round the corner to a very amused Evie.
“Beautiful?” Her brows rise and a smirk pulls at her lips. She’s removed pans and half of the refrigerator’s contents onto the counter. “Not that I don’t enjoy the sentiment, but was that meant for me or did you expect someone else?” I scowl and pull the towel tighter at my waist.
“Of course you’re beautiful, but please don’t make me suffer through your poor cooking skills. Let me get dressed and I’ll take over, chef.” Her laughter follows me down the hall and back to my room.
I pull a pair of boxers, shorts, and T-shirt from the drawer and dress in record time. Where the hell is my mind? Of course it would be Evie, not Kate. Fool. Get your head in the game, Beltran. I release a frustrated growl as I stomp back down the hall.
Evie’s propped herself on the counter, mixing bowl in hand, legs swinging off the ledge.
“What’s the story, morning glory?” She beams, dragging the spoon in lazy circles.
“What are you doing? I said to wait.” The counter is still a mess as I attempt to decipher what the hell she’s trying to make. Evie’s a horrible cook. Love her to pieces, but she should be banned from the kitchen permanently.
“I can stir pancake batter, thank you, Mr. Grumpy Pants.” Grabbing the bowl from her arms, I grimace at the lumpy contents. She hops off the counter and moves to a barstool. I salvage the batter by adding a few spices and a little milk, and heat the pan.
“So what crawled up your ass?” A few drops of water splashed onto the pan sizzle nicely, so I pour the batter for the first batch, then meet her gaze.
“I don’t know what you mean. Other than having to clean up your kitchen catastrophe, I’m just peachy.” I attempt a smile.
“Oh.” She twists her long dark hair between her fingers. “I thought maybe you were upset about something else. Sorry about the mess. I’m just starving.” Damn. I’ve hurt her feelings.
“Pretty boy not making his queen breakfast anymore?” I smirk and attempt to lighten the mood with a joke. After flipping the cakes, I pull the syrup from the fridge and grab two plates off the shelf.
“No. He had to work today. Besides, we got into a fight earlier.” I raise my brows. This is a first. Evie and Tate don’t fight about anything. Her shoulders hang in defeat as I slide a full plate across the counter and hand her a fork. “Thanks, Jon.”
“You wanna talk about it?” She shoves a forkful into her mouth and nods her head. I pour her a cup of coffee and she sips before she answers.
“He isn’t happy I’m moving back here.” She pokes at her food. “I mean, I’m not thrilled, either.” Her eyes snap to mine. “No offense to you. You’re a great roommate.” I laugh, a genuine one, and flip a stack of pancakes onto my plate.
“I get it, Evie. You don’t have to explain.”
“I guess I thought this temporary living arrangement would be fun, but that I’d be ready to move back. I discovered I liked falling asleep in his arms every night.” She shrugs again, and talks between bites. “It’s scary how quickly you become hooked on someone.”
“I know what you mean,” I grumble. Her eyes snap. Shit. Shouldn’t have said that out loud.
“Oh?”
“I—I can imagine.” I busy myself washing dishes to avoid her inquisitive gaze. The last thing I need is Evie going to Kate before I can. Maybe it’d be nice to have her opinion, but it could also backfire. No. I’ll figure this out on my own.
“So, how do you feel about Kate moving out?” Her words hold more question than the simple one she’s asking. I dry the last dish and put it away before I meet her gaze.
“It’s great. It wasn’t so bad having her here. But I’m glad to get my roomie back.” I paste a fake ass smile on my face and hope it’s enough to deter a list of questions. “Now, about Tate. I’m sure you guys will work through this. Can’t you just take turns staying at each other’s place more often? Not sleeping in the same bed seems like an easy fix. Nothing to fight about.”
Evie nods, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess so.” She shrugs. “It’s more than just sleeping in the same bed, though. I’m going to miss the stupid stuff, too. You know, like packing lunches, doing laundry together, stolen kisses between putting the boys to bed. I know, I sound annoying, even to my own ears.” She laughs and rolls her eyes.
“So, Tate doesn’t want you to move out. And it sounds like you agree with him. What’s the problem here?”
“I can’t just move in with him! It’s too soon. I can’t leave you. That’s not cool. You’d need notice to find a new roommate. Besides, he hasn’t even asked me to stay.” She murmurs the last part. I roll my eyes. Women.
“If Tate asked you to stay, would you?”
“Yes.”
I shake my head. “But you won’t ask him?” She throws her hands in the air and waves them wildly.
“It’s not my house! And if I ask him I won’t know if he really wants me to move in, or if he’s just asking because I asked him and he’s just being nice.” She stops with the crazy talk and shoves the last bite in her mouth.
“So, you want him to ask, but not because you put the idea out there. Basically, you want him to read your mind?” Her eyes roll.
“Thanks a lot, Dr. Phil. Let’s pretend I said nothing. I’m sure it’ll work out.”
“Stop. I’m just trying to understand the inner workings of a woman’s psyche.”
“How’s that going for you?” She smirks.
“Not well. I think I’ll stick with my day job. But honestly, Evie, from my viewpoint it sounds like you just need to talk to him. Tell him how you feel. I bet you’ll be surprised.” She breathes a deep sigh and her shoulders straighten. She hops off the chair and washes off her plate in the sink. I shove the last of my pancakes into my mouth and do the same. She bumps my shoulder with her own.
“You’re pretty smart for a juggernaut. Have you considered taking your own advice?” A grin pulls at my lips.
“Maybe I will. We should probably get to work.”
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” I fill my coffee mug before following Evie into our makeshift office. I boot up my laptop and open my email, scroll through it, and jot down a few notes. I have a ton of reports to fill out from last night’s incident. Detective Collier wasn’t thrilled with my renegade actions and they’re moving a raid up earlier than they’d like for fear of covers being blown.
“Hey, Evie?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes appear over her laptop screen. I can’t ask her what to do with Kate, but there is one thing I need her opinion about.
“Do you think I need to see a doctor?” She bites on the end of her pen as she considers my question.
“Why? Do you have an itching and burning sensation when you pee?” I narrow my eyes and a grin fills her face.
“No. Not that kind of doctor. It’s just that two different people who I respect have mentioned they think I need to talk about my feelings. In a professional setting.” Maybe I shouldn’t have brought this up. Just saying it aloud fills me with embarrassment. I study my notepad.
“Here’s the thing.” Evie stares out the window and twirls her pen. “If it’s two people you trust and respect, who put your best interests first and call it like they see it? Then, there’s your answer.” I nod and consider her input.
“Besides, you’re a badass, Jon. Served overseas, for God’s sake. I’m sure you can handle one hour of talking.”
“One hour!” The words leave in a shout and I shake my head. Evie shrugs.
“That’s the common length of most counseling sessions, as far as I know.”
“Seems like a long time, that’s all,” I grumble.
“Hey, my dad has a friend who does a lot with the VA office. Maybe he can ask around and get some names for you?”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Evie. You’re a good friend.” She’s offering without being pushy and I appreciate that. I have no idea where to find a shrink, and I’m not about to go to anyone I find via Google. Maybe this won’t be as torturous as I imagine.
