Arrest (A Disarm Novel) (24 page)

“I’m not that emotionally fragile, Els,” I said as I cleared off the table. “We can talk about it.”

She pinned me with a shrewd gaze but said nothing. She only stood by the counter and took a sip of water.

In two steps, I was in front of her, caging her with my arms. I leaned close until our lips were almost touching. “Come on, you know you want to talk about it.”

I meant to intimidate her, to force her into opening up. Instead her eyes lit up and a familiar look took hold of her features. “Talking is not exactly what I had in mind,” she said, trailing a finger from my chin and down my chest, then lower.

I was instantly hard. How could I not when my beautiful, horny wife stood in front of me, tracing lazy circles around my crotch? I licked my lips and leaned over, taking hold of the shell of her ear with my teeth. “Did you want to play Scrabble then?” I teased.

She reached around me, stuck her hands inside my pants, and gripped my ass. “Only if I can choose my tiles. I’d pick F-U-C—”

I captured her lips with a growl, grabbing a handful of her hair. I tilted her head back and pulled away, enjoying the heated look on her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her pupils dilated, and her lips were swollen from our kiss. “Elsie, I don’t know if I can do slow and gentle right now.”

“I didn’t ask for slow and gentle.” She turned around so that she was facing the counter and gave me a seductive look over her shoulder.

I slid my hands up her thighs, under her skirt, and up over the curve of her bare butt. “You’re not wearing any underwear,” I whispered against her ear.

“I freshened up for you.”

I had my cock out in record time, my pants pooled at my ankles. I lifted the hem of her skirt, nudging her legs apart. “Hard and fast?” I rasped as I slid my cock along her wet folds.

“Stop teasing, Henry,” she said. “I’ve waited a long time for—Oooohhh!”

I slid inside her in one clean stroke, pushing up until I was lifting her to her toes. I bent over and anchored my teeth on her shoulder, groaning at the intense pleasure radiating from my cock. I remained seated in her, feeling like I’d come home.

I felt the rapid pulsing that signaled her climax a second before she cried out, “I’m coming.”

“Holy shit,” I said, closing my eyes and reveling in the pleasure that one can only feel inside a throbbing woman, that extraordinary sensation of being encased in something so tight and warm and knowing that more is yet to come.

I yanked down the straps of her top to expose her shoulder, pressing kisses on her creamy skin. With my remaining self-control all but gone, I dragged my shaft out then plunged back in. I wrapped an arm around her chest and pulled her to me, kissing the side of her neck as I thrust into her over and over. My free hand snaked around to her front and cupped her mound, letting the tips of my fingers drag along my cock as it slid in and out of her.

If I had any lingering worries about hurting her or the baby, they all but disintegrated when she said, “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

I gripped her hips and complied, taking all my frustrations and using it to thrust into her mercilessly. This was not making love; we were fucking and it was hasty and sweaty and glorious.

“Henry,” Elsie breathed a second before she tightened around me and came again, her hips jerking back into mine. I let go, feeling the rush through my shaft and the resulting eruption inside her. I grabbed her chin and twisted her head around, covering her mouth with mine and kissing her until the surging in my dick stopped.

I held her tight against me, my heart pounding right through my chest and against her back. “I love you so fucking much.”

After we’d caught our breath, I carried her upstairs to the bathroom and drew her a bath, peeling off her clothes until she was standing before me completely naked.

She looked almost embarrassed, hastening to slide into the bubbly water to hide her changed body.

I sat on the edge of the tub. “I want to look at you. Please.”

She rose to her feet, the water and suds sliding down her perfect skin. My eyes traced her figure, taking stock of what had changed and what was still the same. Apart from her larger breasts and her rounded stomach, nothing else was different.

I couldn’t help but gawk at her in awe, at the glowing beauty of this woman who carried our child. “You look like a goddess.”

She laughed in surprise and sat back down. “You’re so corny,” she said, splashing me with water. She pulled up her knees and motioned to the space in front of her. “Are you getting in or what?”

“I can’t,” I said, glad that I had kept my clothes on. Otherwise I’d be in there right now, sliding inside her again. “I have to get going.”

“You can’t stay the night?”

I dipped my finger in the water and trailed it along her collarbone. “I shouldn’t,” I said, hoping to hear from her a reason why I should. “Not yet.”

“Soon?” she asked with a hopeful lift to her brows.

I bent down and kissed her forehead. “I really hope so, Els. It kills me to wake up without you.”

—

“Anyone else have anything they want to talk about?”

The members of the group all looked at one another, their faces free of judgment or expectation. Several people out of the eleven-member group had already spoken and shared their worries or experiences. It was my turn.

I took a deep breath and spoke. “I nearly died the other night.”

That got their attention. “What happened?” one female cop asked, sitting straighter in her chair.

“I hesitated.”

A murmur of understanding went around the group, alleviating my worries. They weren’t going to judge me because they’d been in the same situation. They knew what the hell had gone through my mind during the confrontation.

“I was answering a call, a robbery in progress. The guy was still in the liquor store, hiding out in the back office. He was shouting at me and shooting wildly. Fucker must have had more than one magazine with him because he was shooting left and right. I moved around till I had a clear shot. I had him in my sights; all I had to do was pull the trigger. But I fucking hesitated. I was second-guessing my decision because I didn’t know if I could handle it again. I didn’t know what it would do to me . . .”

Sweat broke out over my forehead at the memory of that night. I’d literally been ready to put my gun down when the bottle beside my head exploded and shocked me back into action.

“The Grey Goose splattered on my face like a bucket of cold water, and I realized that the chief was right: My indecision was going to get me killed. So I lifted the gun and shot the fucker in the shoulder, incapacitating him until I could get closer and arrest his ass.

“If he hadn’t been such a lousy shot, I might have a bullet in my head today. They’d be burying me and Elsie would be raising our baby girl alone. I’d miss everything—her first word, her first step—and all because I couldn’t get my head in the game.” The thought was sobering and frightening, and I hoped it was enough to wake me up.

“Are you going to tell your wife?” an older gentleman asked.

“Would you?”

“My wife and I divorced years ago, but no, I wouldn’t have told her,” he said. “Some people just can’t handle getting a glimpse of the darkness inside us. They fear it, and then they start to fear us.”

I went over to the house that night, my mood as black and cloudy as the night sky. As soon as Elsie opened the door, she took one look at my face and just
knew
. Without a word, she stood aside and let me in, meeting me at the couch.

I sat down, resting my elbows on my knees, contemplating what was said at group therapy that night. They didn’t think Elsie should know, and once upon a time, I would have agreed with that, if only to protect her from what would surely cause her more stress.

But now, as I watched her sit down, tucking her feet under her, I wasn’t so sure anymore. The need to protect her was my first and strongest instinct, but I tried to override it, to remember that she was the one who always insisted she didn’t need my protection, only my honesty.

I leaned back with a sigh and fixed my eyes on her face. She was sitting up, one elbow up on the back of the couch as she waited for me to speak. She tipped her head against her hand and gave me a playful wink.

I pressed my palm against her cheek and tried my best to smile, even if inside I was aching at the realization that I could have lost her, this woman who was as much a part of me as I was of her. Somewhere along the way I’d lost confidence in myself, but Elsie still believed that I could be whole again. It was evident in the way she looked at me, in the way she still allowed me back into her life even after all the shit I’d done. Despite everything, she still had faith I would return. And that blind hope was enough to make me believe it myself.

Without warning, she reached over and pulled the cell phone out of my pants pocket. She unlocked it and showed me an application titled TrackIt
before deleting it, letting me know in no uncertain terms that she was done second-guessing me.

And that I should be done second-guessing myself.

I decided then that I would tell her, but just as I opened my mouth to make my confession, her eyes widened. She grabbed my hand and pressed it against the hard globe of her belly.

When I felt that first thump against my palm, my heart stopped. Then it happened again and again, little pulses that I could feel right beneath the skin of her stomach. It was the most incredible experience, to feel my daughter kicking me, reminding me that there was life beyond my own and that my issues were minute in the grand scheme of things.

I blinked away the tears as a laugh bubbled up from my chest. I shifted around to press my forehead against Elsie’s stomach, closing my eyes and smiling to myself as I counted my blessings. Here before me were my two reasons to live: the woman I loved and the child we had created together. They were my motivation to recover, my reminders that the world existed outside my head.

A tear slid out of my eye and dripped off the tip of my nose onto Elsie’s belly. I held her stomach and breathed a promise to our child that I was going to be okay, that even though I may have bad days, I would love her and her mother fiercely until the day I died.

Elsie touched the sides of my head and I looked up at her, surprised to find tears zigzagging down her cheeks. I knew then that the fog had begun to clear and she could catch glimpses into my mind again. The thought comforted me, and it brought me to my knees before her so I could hold her face in my hands and kiss her with everything I had.

She gripped my wrists, holding me in place while she returned my passion with each swipe of her tongue, each nip of her teeth. Then she stood up and, with a gentle hold on me, led me upstairs to our bedroom, where she began to peel every article of clothing off me. When I was completely naked, she ran her fingers along the contours of my body, tracing an invisible line down my stomach then wrapping her hand around my rock-hard shaft. She held my gaze as she began to stroke me, making my knees weak with each pass of her hands. I wanted to close my eyes and enjoy the sensations, but it was impossible to take my eyes off her. I guess I hadn’t been able to look away since the day we met.

She started to drop down, but I grasped her by the shoulders and crouched down instead, wrapping my arms around her waist and pressing a tender kiss to her belly button before urging her backward onto the bed. She sat down on the bed and leaned on her elbows, watching me with hooded eyes as I slid her panties down. I hooked her thighs over my shoulders and blew a breath on her mound.

Her hand landed on my head, gripping my hair as she urged me closer, but I resisted. The last time we’d had sex, it had been fast and hard. This time, I intended to extend the pleasure, to make love to her like she deserved.

With my fingers, I parted her folds until she was open to me, then I touched the tip of my tongue to her clit. Her legs twitched around my neck; I smiled and licked her again, pleased at how sensitive she was.

Then I slid my tongue straight up her folds, causing her to emit a long, high moan. I did it again then quickly slipped a finger inside her cleft. She was so wet and swollen inside, so ready for me. I added another finger to the stroking, and crooking them both, massaging her G-spot while I continued licking at her folds.

I pleasured her with my mouth, keeping a steady speed, until she started to tremble. I pulled back in time to watch her muscles contracting around my fingers, and continued to pleasure her until her hips stopped bucking off the bed.

After giving her one last broad pass with my tongue, I stood up and looked at her with admiration: Her chest and cheeks were flushed pink and her hair was spread around her head like a curly halo. She was so beautiful, so unguarded and satisfied. Unable to help myself, I bent down and clamped my mouth around one breast, licking circles around the voluptuous globe. I took the hardened nipple between my teeth and bit down gently, eliciting a surprised little squeak from her. I held both breasts together and put my face in the middle, licking and sucking at the lushness of her.

She slid backward, higher up on the bed, urging me with one finger to follow as she lay on her side. On my hands and knees, I made my way to her, fitting myself around her back. I lifted her hair away and kissed along her neck, nipping at her skin with my teeth like I knew she loved while my hand caressed her down her side and lifted her leg. I fit myself to her entrance and drove inside, wrenching my eyes shut at the exquisite pleasure of being inside her.

Elsie whispered my name and twisted around, grabbing the back of my head and bringing our mouths together. I held her against my chest and kissed her like a woman ought to be kissed, letting her know that I was completely here in the moment, loving her in the only way I knew how. My other hand caressed her entire body, my palm skimming across her soft curves in equal parts desperation and adoration. Our hips moved in unison, parting and meeting in perfect rhythm. Elsie and I had had a connection since the day we met, and though circumstances had kept us apart, there was no doubt we’d always be part of the same whole.

We came together, our limbs trembling from the intensity of the climax. She gripped my hair between her fingers and stared into my eyes as her chest rose and fell in quick succession.

“I love you,” she said with a ragged breath, and though she’d said it many times before, this time the words pierced me right where they were needed most.

—

I woke up shivering from a bone-deep chill that even Elsie’s warm body couldn’t stave off. As gently as possible, I slipped away from her, sat on the edge of the bed, and held my face in my hands, the nightmare still fresh in my mind.

I started when I felt a light touch on my back. I twisted around, and even without light, I knew Elsie’s face was colored with concern. But by this time, she no longer asked if I had a nightmare or if I was okay. By now she knew she probably wouldn’t get an answer.

This time, however, it was different. It had to be.

I lay back down and moved her hand to my chest, imagining its warmth calming my erratic heart. If there was ever a time to stop pushing her away, it was now. “I had a nightmare,” I said, finding my confession hard to make even in the darkness. “But I guess you already knew that.”

She said nothing, only snuggled closer and pressed her lips against my shoulder.

“It used to be variations of the shooting. The dream would always focus on his eyes. They’d be angry and volatile, but the moment I squeezed the trigger and the bullet punched into his chest, his eyes would change. He becomes nothing but a confused, lost man.”

“He turns into you.”

Elsie’s softly spoken words raised goose bumps on my skin. “I never thought about it that way,” I said. “But tonight was different. This time I can’t shoot the gun. No matter how hard I squeeze the trigger, I can’t seem to fire.”

“What does that mean? Why did it change?”

I flicked on the lamp and, with nothing concealed, told her about the shoot-out, sparing no details. When I was done, I swallowed hard and waited for the inevitable.

“Henry . . .” Elsie said on a sigh. The pulse on her wrist was pounding against my fingers, but there was a stillness in her features I wasn’t expecting.

“I didn’t want to tell you, Elsie, and make you worry about me more than you already do,” I said, turning to my side to better face her. My eyes flew across her features. “But if I have to recover, if I ever want to be good for you again, I have to let you in. I have to let you see my darkness, even if it may end up scaring you off.”

She pressed her forehead against mine. “I’ve seen your darkness, Henry Mason Logan. I’ve seen you at your worst. And you know what? I’m still here.”

I closed my eyes and nodded, my chest tight. “I’m sorry, Elsie. For everything.”

“I forgive you.”

Those three words, so freely given, loosened the knot in my chest. I inhaled deeply, taking it in, allowing myself to believe that this woman could be hurt and still find it in her to forgive. Again. “Thank you,” I said, lifting her hand up to my lips.

She smiled, running the backs of her fingers against the stubble on my chin. “You’re welcome. Now come home.”

—

I moved back in the very next day. It was surreal to carry my bags through the door. I wanted to kiss the walls, to thank my lucky stars that I’d been granted a reprieve and allowed back in. I kissed my wife instead and made love to her once more to make up for the lost time.

The process of recovery was slow; at least, it was for me. Recovery didn’t just happen in one moment of epiphany. It happened one day at a time, getting out of bed each morning and telling myself that I’d eventually start to feel like myself again. Some days it didn’t work, but little by little, the worry that blanketed my brain started to lift.

The nightmares came and went, but eventually I was able to pull that trigger again as my confidence returned. And when I couldn’t, when I’d wake up breathing hard and panicked, Elsie was there to listen. It wasn’t entirely in my nature to talk about my deep-seated worries, but I forced myself to communicate knowing that this was my final chance to take that rope and pull myself to shore.

I don’t think the emotional baggage will ever go away, but it’s just another layer of paint on the surface of who I used to be. Eventually, time will wear some paint away, but it will never be completely gone. I suspect, by the time I’m ready to retire, I’ll be covered in so many layers I’ll forget what’s underneath.

For now, I’ll take it one day at a time.