Текст книги "Absolution Road"

Автор книги: Rachel Blaufeld

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Aly

After showering quickly in my mom’s bathroom, I hurriedly headed to my office. Maverick was a good boy, curled up in my duffel bag on the bus until we hit town, and when I got off the bus, I leashed him and set him on the ground. We walked toward the county building, me with my work face on, and him squatting every chance he could. When I got to the county building, I picked him up and placed him inside the bag again for the elevator ride up to my office, giving the security guy a quick flash of my ID and a bright smile.

Once inside my safe place, surrounded by law books and legal documents, I relaxed for the first time in twenty-four hours, including my impromptu date with Jake.

I’d barely settled in when Barry stuck his head inside my door. He was wearing khakis and a button-down shirt and sweater, like he usually did when he came into the office on a weekend. On someone else it might look preppy, but his slacks were wrinkled and his sweater had a stain that looked suspiciously like tomato sauce.

“Aly, we have to talk. What the . . .” His eyes grew wide. “What the heck is that?”

“Come in. It’s my dog, my new puppy. We were displaced last night. Don’t worry, I’m making new living arrangements tonight.” I waved a dismissive hand in the air as if I faced crises like this regularly.

Frowning, he tore his gaze away from the puppy and focused on me. “Whatever. Listen, you know who did this? You know what he wants?”

“He wants us to get rid of the charges.”

Barry dropped into my guest chair with a huff. “He’s in the wind, our guy, jumped bail. No one knows where the fuck he is, but he’s either lurking around you or having someone else do his dirty work is my guess.” He rested his elbows on the chair’s arms, drilling his eyes into mine over his entwined fingers. “I found out last night that he went MIA. They’re going over traffic cam footage looking for him. The freaking ankle monitor they put on him isn’t working, but I don’t know why. It’s anyone’s best guess as to where or when he’ll turn up. You need to watch your back, Aly.”

Frustrated, I blew out a long breath. Knowing Cameron had found a way to ditch his ankle monitor changed everything. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I thought maybe he’d turn up by morning, but then this happened with you. Shit!” he exclaimed, then gave me a questioning look. “Maybe you should come stay with me? I’d feel a hell of a lot better knowing you’re safe.”

What the hell is going on? I have more offers than ever before to stay with men?

“Barry, don’t be ridiculous. I’m moving to a new apartment. A secure building,” I lied. “I’ll be fine. Let’s find our client. We work together; we can’t live together.”

“I worry about you, Aly. You try to be so tough, but we all need a little help.”

Uncomfortable, I steered the subject back to our client. “I just don’t get him—Cameron. He says he didn’t do any of it, claims the photos were planted in his apartment, yet he makes a big deal about his belief in free speech. So why run like this? What point is he trying to prove?” I ran my hand across my brow in frustration and squeezed my forehead, attempting to keep the headache looming at bay. “I should’ve known better. His actions were right there, niggling in the back of my brain. This is on me. I’ve been distracted.”

“Don’t do this to yourself. He’s acting insane, but it feels like too much of a put-on,” he said, focusing his gaze over my shoulder like he always did when he was pondering something. “Does he want an insanity plea? Why would he want that if he claims he didn’t do any of it?”

“There were pictures of the crime scenes in his apartment, taped all over the walls. Like bragging rights.”

“This guy is zigzagging all over the place. Did you ever get him to mention any names of close friends or girlfriends?” He ran his hand through his greasy hair; obviously he’d skipped a shower this morning.

“No, although it certainly felt like he was protecting someone. Just go!” I told him. “Get out of here and find Cameron. I have to meet with the cops from last night again and get some work done. When we find him, we’ll demand some answers.”

Focusing back on me, Barry reached over my desk and squeezed my hand, something he’d never done in the two-plus years we’d worked together. It was meant to be brotherly, I was sure, but somehow it didn’t feel like it.

Either way, I couldn’t dwell on that right now. I needed to figure out how I was going to deal with my new landlord.

At five minutes after four, I walked outside to find Jake’s Hummer waiting for me in front of the county building, pulled up next to the curb with its flashers on. As soon as Maverick was released from my bag, he started going nuts in the same way I wanted to. Jake got out of the truck wearing ragged dark jeans, a tight-fitting black T-shirt, and some type of athletic shoes, looking formidable and delectable as he walked toward us.

Afraid my own tail was wagging, I simply said, “Hey.”

“Hey, you.” He opened the truck door for me, then picked up Maverick from the ground and settled him into my lap. “He’s not going to be able to do that much longer, you know, sit on your lap. He’s going to be eighty or ninety pounds when he’s done growing.”

“I guess I’d better enjoy it while it lasts,” I said with a grin, not willing to let the little guy go at the moment.

Jake jumped into the driver’s seat and we sped off toward my apartment. When we got to my building, I climbed the stairs reluctantly, and my hand trembled a little as I unlocked the apartment door, ignoring the caution tape run across it.

Jake waited outside with the dog while I tiptoed around the scene. I wouldn’t admit it to him, but I wanted to be in there as little as possible. I felt so violated and vulnerable; whoever had done this had rifled through everything I owned. And if it was Cameron, how could I defend him effectively now? Between my fear and my anger, I couldn’t possibly give him the best defense.

I stuffed some clothes and toiletries in another duffel bag, grabbed my chargers, Maverick’s food and bowls, the crate, and a sleeve of cookies, then locked up behind me. As I ran down the front steps, Jake threw open the Hummer’s passenger door as if he sensed my urgency to get the heck out of there.

The truck was quiet as we set off for another side of town. Highland Park once was the “in” neighborhood with its tree-lined streets and gorgeous parks. For a while it suffered a small decline, but now it was hot again. Large maples surrounded mansions, row houses, and smaller freestanding brick houses—all which Pittsburgh was known for. Kids played out on the sidewalks, and young couples enjoyed their Sunday, walking their dogs to the independent coffee shop in the center of the neighborhood.

When we pulled up in front of a dark red brownstone, Jake announced, “Here we are,” and threw the truck into PARK.

I turned slightly in my seat to face him. “Are we going to discuss anything?”

“If you’re asking if I raided your apartment, the answer is no. Because that’s fucking ludicrous. I was with you the whole time, remember?”

“That’s not what I was asking.” I reached over the center console and ran my fingers over his muscular forearm.

“If you mean rent, I won’t accept anything more than what you were paying for the shithole in Oakland.”

“That’s not what I meant either, although I plan to pay you rent. What I meant was . . . this is going so fast, and now I’m dragging you into all my work stuff and this break-in. Geez, I must look so needy.”

“Just stop. Come on, we’re going in.” He set his free hand on top of mine and squeezed it. “Let’s go.”

He threw open his door and hopped out to come help me, then he snatched the pup.

“The unit on the right needs a little more work,” he explained, “so let’s get you set up in the left. Everything’s been inspected and is working right. My guys may need to do a little work while you’re here, but they’ll be neat.”

The left side of the brownstone had obviously been maintained. The door opened to an exposed brick entry. To the left when we walked in was a living area with a huge stained-glass window looking out onto the yard at the side of the house. In the back was a fairly updated kitchen, but with those old-fashioned knobs on the sink, the white porcelain ones I’d always loved that read HOT and COLD. A staircase led upstairs.

While I explored my new digs, Jake propped open the back door and let Maverick run out and squat. Overwhelmed, I spun in a circle, taking it all in, and realized the place was full of furniture.

“Um, Jake. Why is there so much furniture here?”

He shrugged. “I bought it to go with the unit. I was going to rent it furnished, so now it’s yours.”

I stopped dead in my tracks and leaned on the banister, newly sanded and painted. “Jake? I can’t.”

“You can. Come on, I’ll show you upstairs and then you can get settled.”

Since Maverick still hadn’t gotten the hang of stairs yet, Jake picked him up and carried him with us. Once on the second floor, he tied the leash to his belt loop again, and Maverick bounced around his feet, excited to explore the two bedrooms and bathroom upstairs. The master bedroom was dominated by a king-sized sleigh bed.

Frowning, I turned to Jake. “Seriously, I can’t accept this.”

“You can. Gotta have room to sleep with those long legs.”

My vision blurred and I blinked furiously, but the tears made it hard to see.

“I have to go,” Jake said quickly, as if sensing I needed time to compose myself. “I need to get out to the suburbs and check on a few things in my other location, and then swing by the construction site on the other side of town before the week starts. Can I bring dinner later?”

“Why don’t I go to the store and cook?”

“Another time.” He leaned in and pressed a soft closed-mouth kiss to my lips, then handed me the puppy’s leash and walked away.

“Wait, Jake!” I called out, and he stopped in the doorway. “Thank you.”

He gave me a big smile. “I’m going to run in your bags and the dog crate, and leave the keys on the hall table. Make yourself at home.”

Unfamiliar emotions swirled inside me as I listened to Jake run down the staircase, his heavy boots thudding on the hardwood stairs. In other circumstances, they might seem threatening, but not now, not with Jake.

Funny how we met and where we ended up—so far.

Jake

“Lane, I need a favor,” I yelled into my dash Bluetooth.

“What’s up?”

“I hate asking. I’m trying to do shit on my own, but I’m seeing that girl—woman—the one I told you about. Someone broke into her place and tore the shit out of it, and now she’s living in my rental like I wanted, but—”

“Say no more,” Lane said, cutting in. “I got a guy to look after her.”

“Look, I don’t want you fixing this, bro. I just want the intro. I’m paying for it and dealing with him, but you’re right. She needs eyes on her.”

“I have a guy whose team keeps an eye on AJ, makes sure he keeps his distance from Bess. They’re good. Not cheap, but worth it.”

“Text me their number. Let them know I’ll be calling.”

“Okay. And Jason?”

I huffed out an exasperated sigh. “You must be about to get all serious. No one has called me Jason since Mom died.”

“You deserve to be happy, Jason. Jake. It doesn’t matter what I call you; you’re my brother.”

“Text me the number, Lane. Leave all the mush to Bess.”

I hurried to the South Hills to Fizzle Squared, checked in with the manager on a few issues, then headed over to Cubed, north of the city. Pleased with the progress Jax and his team had made, I sped back to Oakland and ran on the treadmill for a half hour. I needed to blow off some aggression.

As my feet pounded the belt, sweat poured down my back, soaking my tank, and music pounded in my ears. Heavy, dark lyrics rained into my brain, which probably wasn’t smart. I was wound up, more than tense. I should probably be listening to Enya or some New Age junk. At the moment, I was so keyed up, the only thing keeping me calm was the call I’d made to the private investigator. He was going to put someone right on it. They’d keep an eye on my rental, tail Aly, and keep a lookout.

When the thirty minutes were up, I hopped off, even though I could have stayed on for hours. After quickly showering and changing, I called the pizza shop I liked to splurge on and ordered a large pie. On my way to pick it up, I stopped for a bottle of wine. I was about to head straight to the rental at that point, but then realized there were no wineglasses or plates there, so I stopped to pick up some of those too.

Finally at the door, I debated letting myself in, but then decided against it. This was Aly’s place now. I knocked once, twice, before I rang the bell.

“Who’s there?” she called.

“Me with food.”

I sounded like an idiot. I didn’t know how to do this. Up until a few months ago, I was a fuck-and-run kind of guy. Now I was rescuing girls, hiring private detectives, baring my soul, and picking up pizza for dinner.

The lock unclicked and when the door opened wide, Aly stood there wearing a big T-shirt and leggings.

“Pizza?” She looked at me with an eyebrow raised.

“Hey, I can still have a good time.”

“Oh, good, you remembered plates. There’s nothing in the kitchen, obviously. Tomorrow, I’m going to stop at the store.”

Carrying the pizza in one hand and a bag with the wine and dishware in the other, I made my way into the kitchen. “Want me to drive you?”

“No. No thanks. I’ve got to resume my life, and like you said when you first told me about this place, it’s on the bus line.”

“Oh, Aly-cat, what am I going to do with you?”

“Feed me!”

We sat on the stools at the narrow breakfast bar, eating pizza and sipping wine. Aly seemed calm and relaxed, yet I was anything but. Concerned about her safety, I was on high alert, listening for every sound. Maverick slept in the corner in his crate, and I wanted to take him outside and pretend to let him pee so I could check out the yard. But Aly was telling me a story about her one failed attempt at visiting a sorority. It must have been funny because she was tied up in fits of giggles.

“All those girls sat there staring at me in my worn-in faded jeans, white T-shirt, and ankle boots. I wasn’t sure why they were staring, but then I realized they were all in black. Black slinky tops and dark jeans and knee-high boots and covered in jewelry. Get it? They all looked the same, and they wanted me to do that?”

A tear escaped her eye. “I’m sorry,” she said, swiping at the tear and swiveling her stool to face me. “I didn’t mean to get all weird and laughing at the same time. It’s been an emotional twenty-four hours.”

I turned and brought my hand to her face, smoothing my thumb under her eye before bringing her in for a kiss. “You’re not getting weird, and yes, it has been a lot in the last twenty-four hours.” Christ, where’s this coming from?

“But you got to know this, Legs. I had those girls. If you had one, you had ’em all, because you’re right, they’re all the same. And you’re different, which is why I really want to stay and take off your clothes right now.”

She didn’t let me finish. Instead, she took my mouth with hers and kissed the fuck out of me. I grabbed hold of her hair and pulled her head to the side, releasing her lips and taking control. My tongue slid up her neck to her earlobe and I sucked—hard. After I let it go, I whispered in her ear, “You’re not in control when it comes to this. I am.”

Aly moaned and gasped at the same time. She was probably wet as fuck. I’d be willing to bet she’d never been dominated before, and I couldn’t wait to get the chance. I didn’t get all freaky with the dominance thing, just needed to be in command. I liked to go a little rough when I wanted, and soft when I needed something different. It was a control thing for me. I knew this from my shrink—because who doesn’t talk about their sexcapades when they’re on the couch?

Dr. Wells would tell me, “Jake, you lost all control when your parents died and Shirley took away your ability to make it right. You crave control, but you also need distance. It’s a recipe for loneliness.”

Well, maybe I didn’t want to be distant anymore considering all the romantic shit I was spewing, but I sure as hell wanted to be in charge. Women usually went all for it, but I suspected Aly might have trouble with it. She was such a take-charge kind of person that she’d need to let go; I’d known this somewhere deep in my gut. Maybe that was why I’d taken it slow.

Shit! What the hell did I know?

Aly

Visions of whatever they called that stuff . . . the painful stuff . . . BDSM, I think it was called, floated through my mind when Jake said he needed to be in control.

I bit on my lip. I wasn’t a virgin, but I wasn’t a dirty girl. Or was I? Because here I was incredibly turned on just hours after my home was broken into, and I was living in some guy’s place. A guy who needed to be in charge. My teeth continued to worry my lower lip.

“Hey, you there?” Jake ran his knuckles over my cheek. “Aly? Don’t let your mind run away. I don’t want to hurt you. I would never make you do anything you didn’t want to.”

I nodded, swallowing any doubts or regrets. “I know.”

“Do you?” His eyes were filled with doubt, now more gray than blue, and his brow furrowed.

“Yes.” My response came out almost muted. It was a whisper of a whisper, a hoarse concession to what was happening. I was telling the man I’d met in jail after he was arrested that I trusted him to be in charge—in bed—and not to hurt me.

“I don’t like to hurt women,” Jake said in a low voice. “I just need to control the pace, the mood, maybe be a little rougher than gentle, but never when it means pain. Never.”

He almost seemed to be explaining it to himself, but I didn’t want to challenge him right this moment. His need for acceptance was so plain on his face.

“I believe you,” I said softly, letting my eyes tell him I was sincere. “I don’t think you’d hurt me.”

I reached out and ran my hand up and down his arm, smoothing the soft hair sprinkled there. He’d shrugged off his leather jacket when he first came in, and now he sat before me in a navy T-shirt and jeans. I kept my eyes on his as my fingertips cruised his forearms, stopping at his elbow and waiting for permission to travel onward.

Somehow, I knew he’d want this. So I waited.

“Go on,” he said, his voice hoarse, needy.

My fingertips trailed under his shirtsleeve, pushing it up to reveal a well-defined bicep covered with a tattoo of a tree, its leaves falling through the air. The tattoo sat high on his shoulder and I wondered at his choice. Why a tree, and not a skull and crossbones or a smoking gun?

“For my parents,” he said softly before he brought a hand to his face and covered his pained expression. “Shit. I’ve never really told anyone that,” he said from beneath his hand.

“It’s okay.” I let my hand continue to wander, then brought my lips to his shoulder and placed a soft kiss on the tree. “Is that all right?”

His palm quickly found its way to the nape of my neck and pulled me tight and close. “It’s more than all right. I want more. I want those lips all over my skin, everywhere, kissing and sucking. But I can’t start because I won’t stop until I’m deep inside you and you’re screaming my name, your voice hoarse with pleasure.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and kissed his Adam’s apple—it was as far as I could reach with his hand gripping my neck. Although I wasn’t in pain, I felt secure for the first time in a long time. Safe in his rough touch.

“I’m not a virgin.” My lips grazed his neck as I spoke. I couldn’t look at him. “But I’m innocent . . . at least, more than you.”

“I got you, Aly-cat. I want to take care of you. Never wanted to do that with anyone. I’m not going to hurt you, but let’s not start what we can’t finish.”

“I want to start.”

He swept me up in his arms and encouraged me to wrap my legs around his waist before he carried me upstairs. As soon as we hit the master bedroom, Jake shoved me against the wall and pressed his body weight into me. I felt his erection hard against my stomach.

“Dig your heels into my ass,” he demanded, and I did. I should have felt crushed, but it felt more like I was wrapped up in a cocoon.

I was turning into someone I barely recognized. A sex addict, and Jake had never even been inside me. Yet.

We kissed, a deep, open-mouthed kiss so very different from the way he normally kissed me. His tongue swept along the roof of my mouth before he pulled it out and sucked on my lower lip. A moan rumbled from his chest, and I felt it wander through my whole body. A slight shiver ran up my spine.

Jake stopped and leaned his forehead into mine. “Okay?” he muttered.

“Yes.”

“Feel good?”

His fingers traced down my side—over my shirt—and trailed back up underneath the cotton fabric. I felt his calluses scratch against the surface of my skin, and small goose pimples broke out along the way.

“Feels really good,” I said in return.

Jake tore my shirt off in the next moment and my hands flew up on their own, allowing him to lift it over my head. He tossed it on the floor and brought both my hands over my head, holding them high with one of his, supporting my weight with his body as he went back to kissing.

We kissed and ground against each other, pelvis to pelvis, then kissed and ground some more. At every turn, Jake let me know how far to go or when to back off.

I was excited, more so than I’d ever been. I’d had three lovers—one in college, one in law school, and one since. College and law school had been all about experimenting. Of course, my sex partners had been introverted geeks like me. None of them were like the raw hunk of man who was now carrying me to the bed and spreading me out in front of him.

Jake shimmied off my leggings, revealing my cotton thong. He swiped his finger up the seam, putting pressure of my most sensitive spot through the fabric.

“Soaked,” he murmured. “For me?” He raised an eyebrow and looked at me expectantly, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t possible for me to be this wet for someone else.

But since he’d stopped and apparently expected an answer, I gave him one. “For you.”

His index finger slipped under the small strap and ripped the thong away, revealing me completely. Jake sucked in a breath, then ran his finger up my slit and down again. He entered me with one finger and then two, before he brought his lips down to mine and fucked my mouth.

The most erotic thoughts I’d ever had filled my head. Five minutes with this man fingering me, and I wanted it all. All of him. Everything life had to offer. With him.

“Jake,” I mumbled into his mouth, and he stilled.

“You okay?”

My nails traced up and down his back. “Yeah, more. It feels good.”

His thumb landed where I needed it as his fingers continued to pump in and out of me. A small climax grew into something epic inside me. I came on his name—it came floating out of my mouth in a whisper before it whipped out on a scream a second time. He placed his free hand on my chest to still me while the fireworks racked my body. All the while his fingers continued to slide slowly in and out of me, draining me. It was the most epic orgasm ever.

He kissed me again, his tongue lapping my lips in concert with the motions of his fingers before sweeping through my mouth. “You could dig your nails deeper next time,” he murmured against my lips, his breath tickling my mouth as he spoke. “Leave me with evidence that you liked that as much as I think you did.”

Next time? I wasn’t sure anything could top this time.

“You still have all your clothes on and I’m totally naked,” I said with a pout. “And you’re the one with the hot body.”

“First things first.”

He sat up and straddled me, careful not to let all his weight cover me as he licked his two fingers that had been inside me, taking time to run his tongue up and down each one. Tiny sparks flitted up my core at the carnal display, embers of desire I didn’t know I was capable of.

Watching my reaction, he tugged off his shirt and tossed it aside. Then he took my hand and brought it to the top of his fly and said, “You do it.”

With shaking fingers, I undid the button and unzipped the zipper. He stood and kicked off his shoes, then shoved his jeans off. His muscles rippled on every inch of his torso, his six-pack—no, eight-pack—on full display. I gave myself permission to drink him in fully, taking in his decadent quads, so huge and firm. Just like his erection.

He came back and spread out on top of me, keeping his weight on one arm as he reached his other hand to stroked his shaft. After just a few strokes, he released himself to take my hand and guide it under his, showing me how to do what he’d been doing moments before on his own. His eyes closed at my touch, and he moaned.

“Feels so good, Aly. I know you’re nervous, and so am I. This is new for me too. Trusting someone.”

I squeezed him a tiny bit tighter and pumped my hand a little faster, causing him to groan.

“Do you want me?” he asked, his eyes still sealed shut, hiding any reservations or fear he might have had.

“Yes.”

When he opened his blue eyes, I saw myself, my reflection needy and wanton swimming in him. He got up, leaving me drowning in a sea of Jake without a life preserver. I wasn’t a strong swimmer, but something about this man made me want to cross the Atlantic.

I watched him pull a foil wrapper from his jeans, tear it open, and slide it over his shaft. Need filled my throat, blocking my airway. If he didn’t slip inside me soon, I was going to expire, combust, or go stark raving mad, but I waited because he was in charge.

Then he did what I so desperately wanted. He held himself over me while he guided himself slowly inside me, inch by delicious inch, until his length hit the deepest part of me, touching me where none of my previous lovers had.

Oh my God. I’d heard of the G-spot, and now I knew what all the raving was about on the pages of Cosmo and Marie Claire. I always considered those magazines to be for other women—gorgeous, sensual woman who were nothing like me—but I would definitely have to hit the newsstand this week.

Jake’s breathing hitched as he started sliding in and out of me at a leisurely pace, hitting that spot over and over, each time dragging a louder moan from my throat.

“You feel so fucking good,” he said in a hushed voice. “So tight and wet. Like heaven but better, because you’re Aly.”

His hand brought both of mine back over my head like when we were against the wall, and he picked up the pace. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any more wonderful, his free hand reached for my clit. I never knew I adored my clit so much, but when his finger flicked over the nub, my back came off the bed.

This time it wasn’t fireworks, more an explosion like a bomb or a nuclear weapon. Something out of this world rocketed through me, draining me completely.

Sated, I lay on the pillows, the sheet drawn up over my chest while Jake went to dispose of the condom.

“I don’t have any towels,” I called out as the reality of my situation hit me.

I’d been forced from my home and was living in a rental property owned by the man I’d just made love with—or slept with, whatever it was. The same man who was walking toward me, holding a wet washcloth and wearing nothing but a wide grin.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I had some stocked in the bathroom from the gym.”

Jake gently cleaned me up, tossed the towel on the floor, and gathered me in his arms and held me until I fell asleep, this wonderful man who must have let Maverick out to pee while I slept.

And he was the same man who was snoring softly next to me when I woke up Monday morning.