After We Fall (9 page)

Her hands come between us, fingers tightening in my shirt as she pulls me closer. I let go of her head with one hand to explore her body, to run my fingers up her thighs, under the hem of her shirt, and around her hips to cup her ass.

The sweetest thighs I've ever had the pleasure to touch open wide, drawing me into the vee. My cock is hard, just from a kiss, just from touching her.

She moves restlessly against me and I pick her up, molding her to me. “Wrap your legs around me,” I order in a husky whisper.

Never have I had a woman obey me so sweetly. Apparently, Penn—the fucking asshole—hadn't ruined foreplay for her.

I carry her to the couch and lay her down before easing on top of her. I go slowly, giving her time to get used to my weight, to a man being so close to her, and to say no.

My hands sweep down her hot body, then back up again to cup the most perfect breasts ever created. I dip my head to kiss her neck. She arches beneath me, her hands clenching and unclenching as they grip my biceps.

“We still good?” I ask.

“Very.”

I suck at her neck, leaving a small bruise there. Satisfaction roars. I want to mark her, want to let every man know she's mine.

My thumbs rub over her tight nipples and she moans.

“Evangeline.”

She opens her eyes. They are heavy, dazed with lust and desire. “Hunter.”

“Watch me.” That's all the warning I give before I yank her shirt up and cover one lace-covered nipple with my mouth.

With a wordless plea, her fingers move from my biceps to my head, firmly holding me in place. As if I would go anywhere else in this moment.

I suck on the hard peak, scrape my teeth over it until she's babbling for me to do the same to the other one. While I lavish her neglected nipple, I slide my hands down her flat stomach and under her lace panties.

A strip of hair greets me. I dip my fingers in her pussy, finding her hot and wet. Her body jerks and she moans my name.

I slip my finger inside her, then add another until she's pushing against me. My thumb rubs at her swollen clit even as I kiss my way down her stomach. I push her panties to one side and lick her slit.

She nearly comes off the sofa.

“I got you,” I assure her before lowering my mouth once again.

Keeping my forearm across her abdomen, I hold her in place while she bucks against me, while she grinds her sweet pussy into my mouth. I'm not a man of many words when it comes to this, preferring to show what I can do instead.

I curl my fingers up and suck her clit into my mouth.

She screams my name and I watch her as she goes over the edge, as her beautiful body moves. As her lips part. As her lashes fall and she stops undulating against me.

“If you'll give me a minute, I'll return the favor,” she says faintly.

Although I'd love to have her mouth on my cock, there's no way in hell I'll have her return the favor. “Not this time. Besides, I want your mouth on me because you're dying for a taste. When you can't go another second without it, not because you owe me.”

It seems to take great effort for her eyes to open. “Really?”

I nod, kissing her sleek inner thigh. “Truly.”

She sighs thickly, but it's a good sound. A sound I'd like to hear more often. “Would you mind if I took a little nap before dinner?”

“Not at all.” Painfully hard, I ease off of her and go to the linen closet to grab a soft blanket.

She's practically asleep when I get back to her, but her panties are back in place and my shirt is no longer around her collarbone.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, lids at half-mast.

“Anytime.” I mean it, and not just for giving her an orgasm whenever the mood hits her. However, I'm not opposed to encouraging that mood to hit often.

I gaze down at her until I can't ignore the boiling water on the stove. With a quick wash of my hands, I dry them and add noodles.

A soft snore sounds from the living room.

Jake stirs.

“Don't wake her up.”

He huffs at me, then becomes still once more.

Rain begins to pound against the house. Thunder rumbles. The light outside gets dimmer. But inside, dinner is cooking, Evangeline is asleep on my sofa, and my dog is sprawled out in his bed. The low hum of appliances fills the air, along with the scent of garlic and oregano while I finish making the salad.

For the first time, I feel like this place is truly home and I know I have the woman in the next room to thank for it.

Too damn bad I'm about one hundred percent sure that as soon as she wakes and has time to think about all that's happened, she'll run off again.

I wake up, unsure of where I am. All I know is that it's dark and I'm being carried by a strong pair of arms.

My body tenses, ready to take flight.

“Hey sleepyhead. Just taking you to bed,” Hunter says. “I have to go into work unexpectedly.”

The tap, tap of Jake's nails follow us and I sink into Hunter's arms.

Turning into Hunter's chest for a moment, I allow him to tuck me into bed like a small child. I bury my nose in the pillows. The blankets smell like Hunter's cologne, soap, and shampoo.

“Is this your bed?”

“Yeah, but don't worry. When I get back I'll sleep on the sofa.”

“No,” I protest, attempting to sit up, but Hunter gently pushes me back down with one large hand.

“Allow me to do this for you.”

Too tired to argue, I nod. A yawn cracks my mouth open.

Jake whines a little.

“Up, buddy,” Hunter says and pats the bed. It barely moves when Jake joins me. “Keep Evangeline safe while I'm gone.”

Jake circles three times before curling up beside me. His slight but real weight makes me smile. I throw my arm over him.

“So damn jealous of that,” Hunter says as he bends over me. “Maybe one day I'll get to be the one by your side.”

“Maybe,” I agree, and then my eyes slide closed again.

I am not a morning person.

While I was married to Penn, I had to become a morning person. His work schedule as an officer required him to be on post at five o'clock every morning. He required me to be out of bed at four in the morning to make his breakfast. At first, I got up with him because I was flattered that he wanted to spend time with me, saying he was concerned about me becoming lonely since we'd moved clear across the country to Washington State and I hadn't made friends yet.

Penn said a lot of things he didn't mean.

I stare at the ceiling in Hunter's bedroom, listening for sounds that will clue me in on his presence. Half of me wants him to still be gone while the other…the other remembers his kisses, the weight of his body, and the mind-blowing orgasm he gave me.

My cheeks heat so quickly that I shake my head at my reaction.

Hunter is good…okay, he's more than good at oral sex. He's phenomenal. Any other woman would text her friends to brag about an amazing night, without going into details. Any other woman wouldn't dread facing him this morning, or figuring out the best way to thank him and kick him out of her life.

But I'm not any other woman.

While Penn didn't ruin sex for me, he did teach me that everything he did required a return of affection. Tit for tat. No matter the circumstances. No matter how I felt. In the end, I was powerless.

But right now, I don't feel powerless. In fact, I feel…peaceful, well rested, and—I glance at the clock and stifle a scream. “Holy Jesus, I'm late for work.”

Shoving the covers back, I run to Hunter's bathroom. It's not until I've taken care of my most pressing needs first that I realize my clothes are in the guest bathroom and I'm still wearing his T-shirt.

Inching out of his room, I tiptoe down the hallway and dash inside the guest bathroom to change. Before I open the door again, I bury my face in his shirt, wanting to capture his scent and take it with me for the rest of the day.

My stomach rumbles as I open the door. I chuck Hunter's shirt in the open doorway of his bedroom and it lands on his bed in a heap. My mother would kill me for leaving his bed a mess, but I have to get out of here. I have to sort through everything that happened last night.

How was it that I felt safe enough to fall asleep? Safer still to curl up in his bed?

“Good morning,” Hunter says, and I freeze in my tracks.

Slowly looking right, I find him behind a desk. “Um, morning. I'm late for work.” Nervously, I run a hand through my hair, finding a rat's nest that I'll have to tame as soon as I get the chance.

“You're off today.” He closes the laptop in front of him. Sunlight catches the stubble on his face. Of course, he's one of those people who look good at any time of day. He's probably a morning person, too.

Gah.

“Unless you know something about my schedule that I don't, I can assure you that I'm working.”

He shakes his head as he stands and crosses the small room to stand before me. I straighten my back, trying to stand tall against him, but it's no use. Hunter's almost a foot taller than I am, and I'm five foot six. My brothers are all tall men, over six feet each, but I think Hunter would make them seem small in comparison.

He's just so wide, so big…so sexy and—

I'm not going there.

You went there last night.

Fine. I'm not going there
again.

“When it became clear that you weren't waking up anytime soon, I called Saylor to let her know you weren't feeling well.”

He lied for me? “Cops are
supposed
to tell the truth.”

“I didn't lie, Evangeline. Yesterday afternoon was a mental breakdown for you.” He looks away, a guilty flush on his cheeks. “I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like I did. It was wrong. I should have known better. Hell, I did know better.”

Color me shocked.

“Please accept my apology. I won't bother you again.”

My mouth falls open, and I stare at him in shock. “That's it?”

He rubs the back of his neck and then tugs on one ear. “Not sure what else I can say.”

“You certainly weren't supposed to say
that.
”

“Are you mad because I apologized?” The look on his face is incredulous.

I fist my hands on my hips. “You weren't supposed to be the one to back out of this relationship.”

“We have a relationship?”

I ignore his question, because I really hadn't meant to imply that. Forget imply that, I just said as much. “This morning was supposed to be me thanking you for taking care of me, but letting you know I need space. That things moved too quickly.”

“You can still say that,” he replies quietly.

I throw my hands into the air. “Not now I can't, because you've already apologized for the things that I was so worked up over this morning.”

“You have nothing to feel bad about.”

His calm manner is so infuriating. It's like his attitude is bringing back the old me, the one who loved to give as good as she got in verbal sparrings. The one who wasn't afraid to speak her mind to anyone who would listen. The one who didn't live in fear of a man, because the men—my daddy and brothers—who surrounded me while I grew up cherished me and would die to keep me from harm.

“I don't need your permission not to feel bad,
Officer.
”

His lips twitch. “Duly noted.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I practically bite out, “Are you making fun of me?”

“Cops aren't allowed to have a sense of humor, ma'am.” He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms and making his muscles flex. “Either way, I'm still sorry. You can leave now and never look back, without any guilt.”

I growl in pure frustration. “You are not telling me what to do. If I want to see you, I will. If I want you to eat my pussy six times a week and twice on Sundays, then I will and you will. Because that's what we do. Got it?”

He rubs a thumb across his lower lip. “That good for you, huh.”

It's not a question. “You can do better.”

He glances left, then right, before turning his hot gaze on me. “No one's here but us, and since neither of us has anywhere to go for a while, I say you order me to eat your pussy.”

I flush hot. The old me certainly wouldn't have launched into a rant about oral sex, but the new, improved me has no qualms. I'm thinking that I need to find a happy medium between the two.

“While that would be enjoyable,” I say and then swallow, “I'm actually hungry.” My stomach growls again.

“I can be quick.”

My pulse quickens and my clit starts to throb. “I don't know if I can.”

“On second thought, let's get brunch.” He moves past me and I have no choice but to follow him, sputtering my objections.

“What about my orgasm?”

He flashes a wickedly seductive smile. “Later.”

“But why?” Obviously, I have lost my mind. I'm arguing with a man over orgasms. Who does that? Except…I'm fully enjoying the banter and I think Hunter is, too.

“Anticipation.” He grabs his keys and phone, then clamps his hand down on my arm and pulls me close. Head dipping, his lips brush against mine and send zings of pleasure racing through my body. “I can't wait to see how wet you will get for me.”

“Not very wet at all,” I counter, even as my mouth searches for his.

He pulls away with a low groan, steering me out the door with one word, “Food.”

The small diner is tucked away on a side street of Forrestville that I've never driven down. It's bustling with early lunch activity.

While Hunter sips on coffee, I gulp down sweet iced tea.

Once it's gone, he eyes me over the mug and pushes his glass of water my way. “Drink this, too.”

“Thanks. I don't know why I'm so thirsty.”

“You're dehydrated.”

“I am? From what?” I ask, and then it hits me. Yesterday I cried more in twenty minutes than I had in the past five years. Crying had never done me any good with Penn. He would only hit me harder, accuse me of trying to manipulate him when he had no control over his mental illness.

Hunter smiles. It's a big smile, full of male satisfaction. “You know what.”

My heart flips in my chest. He's being considerate of me. He's also letting me know that he's thoroughly pleased with what he did to me last night.

I lower my voice and lean over the table a little. “We didn't have sex. It was only…well, you know what happened.”

His dark brows rise. “Indeed.”

The waitress arrives at our table, her tray laden with plates of food. Once we have our orders, I pause and give Hunter a shy look.

“Do you mind if I say grace?”

“No.” He crosses himself and bows his head, as if waiting for me.

“Um…I wasn't going to say it out loud.” I giggle nervously.

He glances up at me through his dark lashes. “I can. My mother taught me tons of prayers. Mostly because I didn't understand Latin Mass, even when it was spoken in Spanish.”

“Okay.” Closing my eyes, I automatically reach for his hand and end up grabbing his wrist. My eyes fly open. “Sorry. Habit. We always held hands.”

“You and Penn?”

“Yeah, right.” My mouth twists. “Penn forbade me from going to church.”

“I go to Mass every Saturday night I'm off work.”

I stare at him. “I'm not Catholic,” I blurt.

“Damn. There goes my theory of you being perfect.” He winks at me and twines his fingers with mine.

I barely listen as he prays, too caught up in his touch and words. My heart races. My stomach drops.

He's too good to be true. Too much like Penn when we first started dating.

I snatch my hand away as soon as he stops, then dig into the eggs Benedict.

“Jake really enjoyed his forbidden spot with you last night.”

My forkful of eggs, Canadian bacon, and English muffin stop halfway to my mouth. “He doesn't sleep with you?”

“Hell, no. I love Jake, but my bed is off-limits.” He takes a bite of his western omelet. “Pretty sure I confused him last night, but you're worth it.”

“I am?” I'm worth it. I'm worthy.

“To be completely honest, if I thought animals were the way to your heart, I'd send him to your place for sleepovers.” His grin is playful, boyish. It's not one I've seen on him before.

Something warm passes through me, followed by the insidious whisper that Hunter merely knows how to deal with abused women due to his training. His background. “How did you get past being abused?” Hunter and his mom endured over a decade of abuse—that surely had to leave a mark on him. Surely, he'd figured out how to erase it, and I want that knowledge.

His playful grin dissolves. “I didn't.”

Disappointment collides with hope and attempts to strangle every bit of it. Yet, I still press on. “Do you still talk to your dad? Did he ever change his ways and apologize?” I shouldn't ask this. None of it's my business. And it's not like I want Penn back. It's not even a possibility
he
's changed.

“No.” His eyes grow sharp. His voice tight. “He's dead.”

“I'm…I'm not sure what to say.” Is the only way a victim can ever get justice, ever get peace, in death? While Penn suffers from PTSD, he's an otherwise healthy guy in his early thirties. Barring accidental death, he should live for a long time.

Hunter leans back in the booth. “There's nothing to say. He finally got what he deserved.”

“Were you happy?”

“Evangeline,”
he begins.

“Look, you know every sordid detail about me, about my marriage. I know you read my case file. I know you took a special interest in me because Piper told me before I moved into my apartment. I thought I could handle living in the same place as you. That maybe, just maybe, I could play dumb and you wouldn't bring up my past. But you did. The very least you owe me is honesty.”

He wipes his face with his napkin, grabs his wallet, and leaves enough money to cover the bill and give our waitress a tip before pinning me with a look of hot fury. “I was fucking thrilled. I danced on his grave and hoped like hell he suffered.” He scoots out of the booth, tossing his keys on the table. “I'll find my own way home.”

I bite my lip, trying to keep back the tears so I don't make a mess of things even more by crying. “Okay.” Fingers trembling, I grab his keys and shove them into my pocket while he marches outside.