Rock Chick Redemption
Page 60
“How was your day?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“Shit,” he replied.
Yes, I was right. I knew the answer and I felt something happening to me, something drawing me to him and, against the directives of my mind (if not my heart), my body leaned into his. His other arm came around me.
“I guess it’s not fun, going to the scene of a homicide at three o’clock in the morning.”
“No. As many times as I’ve done it, it’s stil not fun.” As many times as he’d done it.
Good God.
Before I could stop myself, I lifted my hand and, with my middle finger, I traced the lower edge of his bottom lip. I watched my finger touch him and then I looked into his eyes.
“I’m sorry, I whispered.
His eyes changed. I couldn’t describe it, they warmed, softened and I felt the change in a physical way, straight to the deepest depths of my bel y.
Then his head bent toward me, my hand slid across the stubble of his cheek and he kissed me, no messing around, it was ful on hot and heavy with lots of tongue.
When he was done, his mouth trailed to my ear as I held on tight, trying to recover from the kiss. My hand that was at his lip was around his neck, my fingers in his hair, my other arm was wrapped around his waist.
At my ear, his voice hoarse with something—passion, maybe just emotion—he murmured, “I want to f**k you right now. I want to slide inside you and erase this shitty day.”
“Whisky,” I breathed, not intending to say anything more, his words had robbed me of speech.
Did he honestly think I could do that for him?
One of his hands went under the hem of my sweater and into the waistband of my corduroys. The other one slid over my behind and he pressed me into him. I could feel his hardness against me.
Yes, I guessed he thought I could do that for him.
And that thought overwhelmed me.
It al hit me then. His job, his responsibility, three o’clock phone cal s, a gun on his belt, the shit he sees, the people he deals with. Then, after a day of that, going home to his house and his dog and, once there, he would be alone. No one to talk to about it or just help him forget.
It seemed ludicrous, a man like Hank being alone, he could be with anyone he chose.
He probably didn’t even care.
But I cared.
Oh shit.
I was seriously in trouble.
Before I could process how much trouble I was in, his tongue traced the curve of my ear and I melted further into him. He twisted, taking me with him. Shamus scurried away from our legs and then moseyed to lie down by the door.
Hank started backing me to the bed.
“Hank,” I said, but he didn’t answer. He pushed me away from him and undid my belt. It fel to the floor and we stepped over it. His hands went into my cardigan, opening it and then he pressed my almost na**d torso against his.
Then, I remembered something and ice shifted into my boiling veins.
“Hank, they have cameras in here.”
“I don’t care,” he said.
Oh no.
He couldn’t mean that.
Could he?
“I think they even have microphones,” I went on.
“I don’t care,” he repeated.
He did mean it.
The backs of my legs hit the bed and I wasn’t prepared for it. I fel back and he came down, his knee settling on the bed between my legs. He was on top of me a moment and then rol ed to the side, pul ing me with him, sliding his thigh between my legs as his hand at my ass slid my crotch along its length. His mouth went back to my neck.
Oh my, but it felt good.
Even so.
“I don’t want them watching,” I said.
“They won’t watch. They’l turn off the cameras.” I wished that was true, but I’d spent time in that room and after awhile, you’d watch anything.
“No they won’t,” I said. “I know what it’s like sitting in there, it’s boring as hel . They’l total y watch.” there, it’s boring as hel . They’l total y watch.” His head came up. Then he said in his authoritative voice, addressing the room at large. “Turn off the cameras.” Then his mouth went back to my neck, clearly thinking that was that.
Good grief.
“They aren’t going to do it,” I told him.
His tongue slid down my neck to touch at the base of my throat.
“They’l do it,” he said against my throat.
“They won’t. You have to go check.”
His head came up and he looked at me like I’d just asked him to pop out and fetch me some Russian caviar.
“Seriously?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
He pressed my behind, putting me in intimate contact with his rock-hard crotch.
“Sunshine, I’m in no condition to go check.” Mmm, it would seem he was right.
I thought about it then I made my decision. I’d hate it, but I’d do it, with conditions.
“Okay, but, just in case they’re watching, we have to do it with as many clothes on as possible and you have to be on top so they won’t see me.”
He stared at me a beat. Then he buried his face in my neck and I felt his body move with laughter. Then his lips slid along my cheek again and he kissed me, stil laughing.
Then he kept kissing me.
I knew two kinds of Hank Kisses. The light kisses and the make-you-dizzy kisses.
These kisses were a third kind of kiss. His hands roamed my bottom and back and I realized these kisses weren’t leading anywhere. They were cuddling-with-Hank kisses; softer, sweeter, slower, stil lots of tongue but mostly just-be-together-and-touch-while-you’re-necking kisses.
They made me a different kind of dizzy.
After awhile, he stopped kissing me and rubbed my nose with his.
Then he said, “Let’s go get something to eat.” I looked at him.
“We’re not gonna do it?” I asked.
“No. I appreciate your sacrifice Sunshine, but if you’re not comfortable, we’re not gonna do it.”
I hugged him, grateful, burrowing my face into his neck.
He was such a good man.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He kissed the top of my head.
“I’l erase your day after I get back from the Haunted House,” I offered.
His hand went to my chin and lifted it up so I was looking at him. His eyes had that look in them again, the soft, warm look that made my stomach pitch. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” he said.
I found I had no problem with that at al .
* * * * *
We dropped Shamus off at his house and he took me to a restaurant cal ed Reiver’s that was on a street cal ed South Gaylord which was in Hank’s ‘hood. We sat at the bar and Hank ordered for us. Our beers had just been bar and Hank ordered for us. Our beers had just been delivered when my purse rang. I yanked out my phone, flipped it open and put it to my ear. “Hel o?” “Yo Bitch!” Annette yel ed into my ear. “Get shot at today?” she asked.
“Shit,” he replied.
Yes, I was right. I knew the answer and I felt something happening to me, something drawing me to him and, against the directives of my mind (if not my heart), my body leaned into his. His other arm came around me.
“I guess it’s not fun, going to the scene of a homicide at three o’clock in the morning.”
“No. As many times as I’ve done it, it’s stil not fun.” As many times as he’d done it.
Good God.
Before I could stop myself, I lifted my hand and, with my middle finger, I traced the lower edge of his bottom lip. I watched my finger touch him and then I looked into his eyes.
“I’m sorry, I whispered.
His eyes changed. I couldn’t describe it, they warmed, softened and I felt the change in a physical way, straight to the deepest depths of my bel y.
Then his head bent toward me, my hand slid across the stubble of his cheek and he kissed me, no messing around, it was ful on hot and heavy with lots of tongue.
When he was done, his mouth trailed to my ear as I held on tight, trying to recover from the kiss. My hand that was at his lip was around his neck, my fingers in his hair, my other arm was wrapped around his waist.
At my ear, his voice hoarse with something—passion, maybe just emotion—he murmured, “I want to f**k you right now. I want to slide inside you and erase this shitty day.”
“Whisky,” I breathed, not intending to say anything more, his words had robbed me of speech.
Did he honestly think I could do that for him?
One of his hands went under the hem of my sweater and into the waistband of my corduroys. The other one slid over my behind and he pressed me into him. I could feel his hardness against me.
Yes, I guessed he thought I could do that for him.
And that thought overwhelmed me.
It al hit me then. His job, his responsibility, three o’clock phone cal s, a gun on his belt, the shit he sees, the people he deals with. Then, after a day of that, going home to his house and his dog and, once there, he would be alone. No one to talk to about it or just help him forget.
It seemed ludicrous, a man like Hank being alone, he could be with anyone he chose.
He probably didn’t even care.
But I cared.
Oh shit.
I was seriously in trouble.
Before I could process how much trouble I was in, his tongue traced the curve of my ear and I melted further into him. He twisted, taking me with him. Shamus scurried away from our legs and then moseyed to lie down by the door.
Hank started backing me to the bed.
“Hank,” I said, but he didn’t answer. He pushed me away from him and undid my belt. It fel to the floor and we stepped over it. His hands went into my cardigan, opening it and then he pressed my almost na**d torso against his.
Then, I remembered something and ice shifted into my boiling veins.
“Hank, they have cameras in here.”
“I don’t care,” he said.
Oh no.
He couldn’t mean that.
Could he?
“I think they even have microphones,” I went on.
“I don’t care,” he repeated.
He did mean it.
The backs of my legs hit the bed and I wasn’t prepared for it. I fel back and he came down, his knee settling on the bed between my legs. He was on top of me a moment and then rol ed to the side, pul ing me with him, sliding his thigh between my legs as his hand at my ass slid my crotch along its length. His mouth went back to my neck.
Oh my, but it felt good.
Even so.
“I don’t want them watching,” I said.
“They won’t watch. They’l turn off the cameras.” I wished that was true, but I’d spent time in that room and after awhile, you’d watch anything.
“No they won’t,” I said. “I know what it’s like sitting in there, it’s boring as hel . They’l total y watch.” there, it’s boring as hel . They’l total y watch.” His head came up. Then he said in his authoritative voice, addressing the room at large. “Turn off the cameras.” Then his mouth went back to my neck, clearly thinking that was that.
Good grief.
“They aren’t going to do it,” I told him.
His tongue slid down my neck to touch at the base of my throat.
“They’l do it,” he said against my throat.
“They won’t. You have to go check.”
His head came up and he looked at me like I’d just asked him to pop out and fetch me some Russian caviar.
“Seriously?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
He pressed my behind, putting me in intimate contact with his rock-hard crotch.
“Sunshine, I’m in no condition to go check.” Mmm, it would seem he was right.
I thought about it then I made my decision. I’d hate it, but I’d do it, with conditions.
“Okay, but, just in case they’re watching, we have to do it with as many clothes on as possible and you have to be on top so they won’t see me.”
He stared at me a beat. Then he buried his face in my neck and I felt his body move with laughter. Then his lips slid along my cheek again and he kissed me, stil laughing.
Then he kept kissing me.
I knew two kinds of Hank Kisses. The light kisses and the make-you-dizzy kisses.
These kisses were a third kind of kiss. His hands roamed my bottom and back and I realized these kisses weren’t leading anywhere. They were cuddling-with-Hank kisses; softer, sweeter, slower, stil lots of tongue but mostly just-be-together-and-touch-while-you’re-necking kisses.
They made me a different kind of dizzy.
After awhile, he stopped kissing me and rubbed my nose with his.
Then he said, “Let’s go get something to eat.” I looked at him.
“We’re not gonna do it?” I asked.
“No. I appreciate your sacrifice Sunshine, but if you’re not comfortable, we’re not gonna do it.”
I hugged him, grateful, burrowing my face into his neck.
He was such a good man.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He kissed the top of my head.
“I’l erase your day after I get back from the Haunted House,” I offered.
His hand went to my chin and lifted it up so I was looking at him. His eyes had that look in them again, the soft, warm look that made my stomach pitch. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” he said.
I found I had no problem with that at al .
* * * * *
We dropped Shamus off at his house and he took me to a restaurant cal ed Reiver’s that was on a street cal ed South Gaylord which was in Hank’s ‘hood. We sat at the bar and Hank ordered for us. Our beers had just been bar and Hank ordered for us. Our beers had just been delivered when my purse rang. I yanked out my phone, flipped it open and put it to my ear. “Hel o?” “Yo Bitch!” Annette yel ed into my ear. “Get shot at today?” she asked.
