Icing on the Cake (Close to Home) (15 page)

“To answer your earlier question, I’m not a stripper.” She waited for him to look over. “And to answer the one you didn’t ask, I’m not a hooker either.”

He shifted his expression to something neutral to mask the relief he hated himself for feeling.

“The stripper thing was a nice transition, by the way.”

“It wasn’t a transition.” This, at least, he could be completely honest about. “I saw you get off a city bus in the upper north end last week. Not a whole lot to see and do in that part of town, aside from the tricities’ most popular peeler bar.”

“And my mechanic’s shop, where I signed over my paycheck so he’d keep working on my baby.”

Shit.

“Anything else I can clear up for you, or should we save some mystery and misconceptions for after dinner?”

“I have other plans for after dinner.” The gods of good timing gifted him with a red light, which he took advantage of by leaning over the center console and kissing his saucy—and thankfully, forgiving—date.

A honk from the vehicle behind alerted him to the green light. First, he indulged in one more taste of Sara’s mouth. Mint and sex. Mint from her toothpaste, probably, or the candies she seemed harmlessly addicted to. The sex part might have a solid, scientific explanation, like endorphins or hormones, or it might be his imagination. Whatever it was,
he
was addicted.

He was also hard as a goddamn cannon. They were in for another long, hot night.

Dinner had been delicious. Curtis had chosen a five-star restaurant with entrées that cost more than Sara spent on a week’s groceries of late. The company was pretty awesome too. Curtis made intelligent conversation without being boring or pretentious. He laughed easily. He was charming, witty and the perfect amount of naughty. Under the table groping—oh yeah, he’d delivered on that.

The man had seriously skilled fingers. He knew how to make her hot, wet and desperate, a fact he’d demonstrated several times between the appetizers and dessert. But he hadn’t made her come. Intentionally. He’d told her as much, his deep, gruff voice filling her ear while his fingers played her to teasing perfection beneath the black tablecloth.

I’m not letting you come, babe. Because you’d have to hold back with all these people around. And I don’t want you holding back with me. Not ever. So you’re going to sit here looking gorgeous and sexy as hell with your pink cheeks and parted lips, driving me fucking crazy rocking against my hand, but you are not going to come. Not until I have every inch of you naked and all to myself.

He hadn’t demanded a “Yes, sir” but it’d been right there, on the tip of her tongue. She’d barely kept it in.

Things were getting out of control. Out of her control, anyway.

I don’t want you holding back with me.
His whispered words kept replaying in her mind. In bed—or wherever else their sexual chemistry exploded—she wouldn’t have it any other way. Holding back was for uptight prudes.

When it came to the rest of her life though…she couldn’t be as free.

His stripper question had hammered that reality home. And the “hooker” comment from those idiots in front of her building—that’d been way too close to the truth. Good thing she had a lifetime of practice thinking on the fly. The mechanic story had flowed from her mouth so smoothly, she could have sold it to a jury. And it wasn’t a lie. Her mechanic
was
in the area Curtis had spotted her getting off the bus. Six blocks south, but hey, that was still “in the area.”

Mercifully, he hadn’t asked her about her job over dinner. Since she’d started at Lucky’s, she’d become the mistress of selective wording with Nia and her parents. She’d never outright lied, nor would she, but she sure as hell didn’t want them to know she’d taken a job at a massage parlor. It’d break their hearts. She’d done enough of that already.

Dating a cop wasn’t at number one on her “Stupid Things I’ve Done” list, but it was in the top ten. Curtis didn’t talk shop much, but he never completely shut that side of himself down either. Off-duty Curtis was still a cop—it showed in his alertness, his attention to detail, his directness. If she continued seeing him, he’d inevitably discover her dirty little secret. Then what—raid the place, arrest her? Ignore the law he’d sworn to uphold to protect her virtueless existence? Both possibilities turned her stomach.

None of this crap would be wasting space in her head if she hadn’t agreed to another night with Curtis. To a
date
. Secret aside, going out with him was a bad idea. He was too likable. She didn’t want to like Curtis. She didn’t want to
like
anybody. Like led to love, and love led to loss. She wouldn’t go down that road any more than she had to.

But she could enjoy the scenery. She turned in her seat to better admire him. Tall, dark and handsome—check, check and check. At her request earlier, he’d left his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow. The contrast of crisp, white cotton against his tattoos was hot beyond description.

He glanced her way, his forearm muscles flexing as he scrubbed his knuckles across his stubbled jaw. “Looks like we’re in for a storm.”

As if scripted, raindrops dotted the windshield.

“Nice trick,” she said, rolling her window up. “Can you do that with money?”

“I wish.” He laughed, but it lacked depth. “Since you brought it up—I don’t know how cheap the rent is in your building or what you can afford, but you need to get out of that neighborhood.”

“It’s not that bad. The ghetto thing has a certain charm once you learn to tune out the filth, ear-piercing screams in assorted languages, and possible gunfire.”

“Jesus.”

“I’m kidding.” She leaned across the center console to poke his arm—and linger in his space. “About the filth, I mean. Not so charming, that. Four months in that building and I still don’t want to touch anything beyond my apartment door.”

He stopped for a red light, using the opportunity to nail her with an intense stare. “I was already planning to tie you to my bed tonight. Now I’m going to keep you there indefinitely.”

Tingly heat rippled through her, head to toe. “I don’t do indefinitely, lawman. Neither do you. You told me so the day we met.”

“That’s true.”

Some of the butterflies in her chest withered with that confirmation. As they should. Stupid fluttering pains in the ass.

Lightning streaked the night, seemingly ripping the sky open. A wall of water replaced the smattering of raindrops. Even on their highest setting, the Mustang’s wiper blades were no match for the downpour. It seemed to be coming at them from all sides. Shit.

“I hate to do this, but can you swing by my place before we get busy with the handcuffing-to-the-bed fun? I left my apartment window wide open. If it rains this hard for more than a few minutes, I’m going to have a wading pool in my kitchenette.”

“Not a problem.”

The light turned green and he started through the intersection, his focus now on the treacherous road ahead. Mother Nature’s onslaught pounded the car from every side. In the semi-darkness, his right hand slid across her leg. His fingers didn’t sneak beneath the hem of her dress this time. Instead, he found her hand, threaded their fingers together and squeezed. “For the record, I won’t use handcuffs on you.”

A lump formed in her throat. Of course he wouldn’t handcuff her. He’d told her he wouldn’t use her past to hurt her, and that promise had literal meaning as well as verbal.

He squeezed again. “But you are going to look fucking hot with the black rope I bought wrapped around your wrists.”

She snuggled closer, using his solid shoulder to hide a smile that would give away far too much. “A fancy dinner
and
brand-new bondage rope? You spoil me, lawman.”

“That’s the plan, princess.”

The fluttering resumed in her chest. This thing with Curtis—whatever it amounted to and however short it might be—was a mistake on several levels. Knowing that didn’t change how she felt right now. How he’d made her feel since the first time they shared a vehicle.

“In case I can’t tell you later because I’m too exhausted from sex to speak, I had a great time tonight.”

He chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to her head. “Guess I have my goal for the night.”

“Goals are good. Have any for me?”

“Yeah,” he said while parking curbside, in front of her building. “Don’t stop.”

“Fucking you? Biology is going to intervene at some point, but I’ll do my best.”

“Not what I meant, but I’ll take it.” The streetlight’s glow pushed through the storm enough to afford her a view of his grin. “Give me your keys—I’ll run up and take care of your window so you don’t have to get wet.”

“I thought you liked it when I’m wet.” She had one foot out of the car before he could respond—or manhandle her back into place. “I’ll just be a couple minutes.”

He was at her side before the car door closed completely. Of course. Alpha males didn’t sit back and wait. And Curtis Lawler was definitely in that category. Hell, he could be the alpha of the alphas.

“Too slow, I’m expediting this side trip,” he said, scooping her off the ground as she picked her way around the puddles on the sidewalk.

She shrieked, clutching his back as he sprinted them the remainder of the distance to her building. “Oh my god, dude. Neanderthal much?” she asked when he deposited her in the elevator.

“That was time management.” One arm banded her waist, pulling her back tight to his chest, and her ass to his groin. He swept her hair aside and pressed his lips to her ear. “If I were in caveman mode, I’d already be buried balls-deep in your hot little body.” He pushed her dress up and sunk several fingers inside her, growling when she moaned at the rush of fullness and possession. “I’d have you flat and hard against the wall, pinned in place by my cock, fucking you so deep you didn’t have the breath to beg me to stop.”

“The only thing I’d be begging for is more.”

“You’re going to wish you hadn’t said that.” The elevator doors slid open, but Curtis didn’t remove his hand or cover her exposed nakedness. As if he didn’t care who saw him finger-fucking her. A blatant act of control and ownership.

He directed her down the empty corridor. Not roughly, but not taking his time and handling her with care either.

Her heart hammered harder with each brusque step. She’d baited him, and he’d snapped it up. They weren’t going to make it to his place. As soon as he had her behind a locked door, his threat would become reality. And she couldn’t wait.

They passed her neighbor’s door. Twenty more feet. Ten. Five, four, three…

“What the hell?” Curtis tucked her behind him, sheltering her with his big body and the wall.

Too late, she’d already seen the red spray paint emblazoning her door. Now that he’d seen it, all bets were off. Date night was over. So was her time with Curtis. The best she could hope for was to get him out of here before his investigative powers really kicked into gear.

“You ever had something like this happen before?”

“No, but graffiti is pretty commonplace around here. You should see the laundry room. It’s actually kind of cool, the way the coin-operated Maytags have been decorated by the resident artists.”

He turned, facing her with narrowed eyes, a straight line of a mouth and a steel-set jaw. Bye-bye, sexy caveman. Hello, cop mode.

“This isn’t random vandalism. Yours is the only defaced door. Has to be those mouthy little fuckers from earlier—do you know them?”

“No.”

His eyebrows rose. “They obviously know who
you
are. And where you live.”

“Is that some sort of accusation? Maybe you want to ask me if I’m a stripper or a hooker again?”

“Goddamn it, Sara, don’t jump on the defensive. It was concern for your safety. That’s clearly a threat on your door, and in case you hadn’t figured it out, I happen to give a shit about you.”

“I don’t need your
concern
. I don’t need you to give a shit, take me to dinner, protect me from neighborhood idiots, or anything else.”

“Of course you don’t.” Sarcastic words in a hard tone.

She’d pissed him off. Probably hurt him too. Mission accomplished. A bit more and he’d be gone. For good. “You know, I’m not a stripper or a prostitute, but apparently I am a cock tease, because this date is over.” She waited, but his only response was more intense staring. “Go. Find somebody else to use the rope on. I’m not interested in being tied down. By you or anybody.”

He rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath, grabbing her hand when she reached for the doorknob. “Don’t touch that. Not until we get a patrol down here and report it.”

“Forget that. I’m not waiting in the hall for stupid cops to show up and ask a bunch of questions I can’t answer, all of which will lead nowhere.” She jerked her hand free, and he let her.

“Stupid cops?”

The insult wasn’t directed at him, but it may as well have been. That’s why she’d done it. “Yes. Now, unless you’re planning to forcibly prevent me from entering my apartment, I’m going inside to close my window.”

No answer. No movement to detain her, either.

Everything had gone to hell in the course of minutes. Because of an open window, an incredible man, and her endless mistakes.

Shoulders squared and spine steeled, she withdrew her keys from her purse. The lock was dead ahead, mere inches away, yet she couldn’t get the damn key in the slot. Not with her hands shaking and the weight of Curtis’ stare on her back. Not with the thick, red letters practically jumping off the door, mocking her.

Tomorrow’s my LUCKY day. Wear that black dress for ME, whore.

Curtis was correct about the message being a threat. Just not the kind he thought. Somehow, those guys had discovered where she worked and where she lived. They weren’t out to physically attack her in a dark corner or back alley. They didn’t want to rape her—they wanted to pay to fuck her. Tomorrow. At Lucky’s.

Vomit lurched up her throat.

“Shit,” she whispered when the keys slid from her fingers. They clattered against the door and hit the crappy-carpeted floor, the simple sounds echoing in her spinning head. Stupidly, she hoped Curtis would swoop in and collect the fallen keys. That he’d wrap his arms around her and take charge. Make everything better.