Officer Off Limits (7 page)

Story’s head thrashed back and forth on the pillow. “I’m ready. I’m ready. Please.”

“Please,
who?
”

“Daniel,” she shuddered out. “Please, Daniel.”

He reached into his back pocket and froze. Confused and frustrated, she gripped his hips and arched underneath him, begging him to move. Yet he remained frustratingly still.

“What is it?” She finally asked, breathless.

“Please tell me you have a condom.”

It took her a moment to grasp his meaning. “What? No. I don’t usually travel with condoms.” When his head dropped forward with a curse, her eyes widened on him. “You don’t have one with you?
You?
”

Sitting back on his heels, he stabbed shaky fingers through his hair. “No.
Shit.
I didn’t think I would see you tonight and I wasn’t exactly prowling around for someone else, despite what you think of me. Christ, this is fucking embarrassing.” His eyes narrowed on her. “What the hell are you smiling about?”

Had she been smiling? She ran her fingers across her mouth. Yes, apparently. Maybe it was naive and ridiculous, but Daniel admitting he’d gone out without the intention of getting laid made her feel giddily happy. Which made her wonder if she’d recently hit her head and forgotten doing it.

“I don’t know. Nothing.”
Don’t say anything else!
“So it was either me or no one?”

He nodded somberly, scrutinizing her expression. “That’s right.”

Story rose onto her knees, grasped the hem of her dress, and pulled it over her head, before letting it drop on the floor.

His hands clenched on the bedspread as he watched her reveal her mostly naked body. “What are you doing? Sunshine, we can’t. Not if I can’t protect you.”

She unhooked her bra from behind and let it fall down her arms, uncovering her breasts. Daniel’s breath shuddered in and out, his gaze devouring her, burning everything in their path. With a low growl, his hand dropped to the fly of his jeans to massage his straining erection.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Letting her fingers trail up her sides, she pinched her nipples playfully. “Go downstairs to the deli and get something. I’ll be waiting right here for you when you get back.”

He nodded, but didn’t move, seemingly hypnotized by her hands on her breasts. Then an idea registered on his face. Jerking a thumb toward the hallway, he said roughly, “You don’t think there’s one…?”

Her hands dropped as his meaning sunk in. He actually thought to borrow a condom from Jack. Her father. “Don’t even finish that thought.
Seriously
. I’ll never recover from it.”

“All right. I’m going.” He leaned forward and kissed her, thrusting his tongue deep before pulling away. “Do not move.”

Story smiled as he strode briskly down the hallway, grabbed her keys off the entry table, and slammed the door behind him. She flopped back onto the bed and closed her eyes with the intention of resting them until he returned.

Within one minute, she’d fallen fast asleep.

Chapter Nine

Three minutes. He’d been gone three goddamn minutes.

Daniel dropped the paper bag he held on the bedside table and buried his head in his hands, groaning miserably into the silent room. What exactly had he done to deserve this particular brand of torture?

He paid his taxes. He rescued people for a living and always tipped more than he should. He recycled like nobody’s business. So why,
why
the universe had decided to fuck with him, he hadn’t a clue. But it had. Big time.

His weary eyes ran over Story’s practically naked form sprawled out on the bed, his body responding swiftly and painfully. He ached to run his hand over the curve of her hip, the pouty tips of her breasts. To lick the hollow of her stomach before moving lower to kiss the sweetest part of her. Even knowing it wouldn’t be right to touch her while she slept, he moved forward as if magnetized, consuming her with his eyes.

He’d never once, since turning sixteen, left the house without protection. Then the one time it counted, he’d been left unprepared like the world’s worst Boy Scout. Even now, he could be moving inside her, listening to her desperate cries of pleasure in his ear. Feeling her tighten around him, preparing for release, while her nails scored his back.

Instead, he’d been cast into permanent boner-oblivion for the rest of the night. Awesome.

As he dropped onto the bed next to her, he couldn’t resist trailing his fingers over her stomach and around her belly button, biting his lip in satisfaction as the skin quivered under his hand. The barest hint of a creamy-white tan line peeked out at her hip bone. His mouth practically watered with the need to taste her there. Follow the path with his tongue.

“
Gorgeous
.”

A thought occurred to Daniel, then. She had tan lines below, why not above? A growl formed in his throat at the image of her topless on the beach, being ogled by overly tanned surfers. They would be having a serious discussion tomorrow about her sunbathing habits. Which led to the realization that she would be going back to California soon and he would have zero say in anything she did or how she chose to dress. Hell, he barely had a say now.

Okay, none.

Feeling restless, Daniel dragged his T-shirt over his head and unbuckled his jeans before kicking them aside. He gently rolled Story onto her side and stretched out behind her. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to slide an arm around her waist and tuck her sleeping form against his chest. He’d never slept with a woman without sex happening beforehand, and never for the whole night, but he’d be damned if he’d let the opportunity to hold her pass without taking advantage.

Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing? Taking advantage of her?

Until a few days ago, she’d been engaged to be married. Moving past something as traumatic as a broken engagement didn’t happen overnight, bringing him to his next dark thought. It was much more likely that
she
was the one taking advantage of
him
. Enjoying his attention and the promise of casual sex as a way of moving on from her heartache. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman used him as a rebound, but it would be the first time he gave a damn.

Since learning about her ex-fiancé from Jack, he’d been plagued with thoughts of the bastard. About him and Story together, as a couple. Was she still in love with him? Even now, as she lay in his arms, were thoughts of their time together running through her mind? The very idea made him crazy. Made him want to do something impulsive, like hop a flight to California and show up on the guy’s doorstep. Demand he never speak her name again.

He had no right thinking these possessive thoughts. She didn’t belong to him. With his wretched past, he deserved her even less than that bastard Fisher. That harsh reality did little to stem his irrational thoughts. Here he was, obsessing over
one
man from her past, when the last decade of his life had been filled with an endless parade of women. Most of whose names and faces he couldn’t even recall. If Story knew the depths of his debauchery, she would turn away from him in disgust.

Not under any circumstances should he be sharing the same bed with her. He wasn’t worthy of her time or the pleasure of her body. So if his fears proved true and her interest in him was solely to distract her from a broken heart, he would take it like a man. Tonight had proven how difficult it would be to stay away from her completely.

Had it really been merely a day since they’d met in front of the vending machine? He’d blinked his eyes and suddenly she’d become an inevitability in his life. Only she wasn’t. Her stay in New York would only be temporary. Daniel knew too well what temporary meant. He should be distancing himself now. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

He pulled Story closer. She wiggled her ass against his lap, settling into her new position, and he had to clench his teeth until she stopped moving. Breathing through his nose, he somehow regained his composure and focused on the feel of her in his arms.

Burying his nose in her hair, Daniel inhaled deeply, committing her sunshine scent to memory, and fell asleep shortly after.

…

Deep in his subconscious, Daniel knew he was dreaming. He also knew from experience that he wouldn’t be able to wake himself up until the dream completed itself.

The dream started the same as it always did. Daniel coming home from baseball practice, tossing his mitt onto the dining room table next to his backpack. Noticing the unusual quiet permeating the house. Walking up the creaking stairs, hand sliding along the banister as he called out to ask if anyone else was at home and getting no answer.

In a foster home where seven kids lived, you rarely encountered silence. Everything felt too still, unnaturally stagnant. It took a lot to intimidate a foster kid who at sixteen had seen the inside of more than ten homes over the course of a decade, but something menacing hung in the air, slowing his footsteps.

Reaching the top of the landing, he heard a scrape to his left, coming from inside his current foster parents’ room. In their late fifties, the Wickhams made a career out of housing orphans. He’d seen his share of bad foster parents, but they were some of the rare good ones. He’d been in the house for six months, a decent stretch considering his history. In that time they’d actually made a point to show up to his baseball games when they could. Even the meals were decent. He didn’t have a single complaint. So he kept his head down and hoped he didn’t do anything to get sent away.

Daniel heard the scrape once more and with a gulp of apprehension, decided to investigate. When he pushed open the door to the Wickhams’ bedroom, it took him a moment to register the scene before him. On one side of the room stood a pale-faced Mr. Wickham with his hands in the air. His nervous eyes were trained on the bony teenage girl across the room, pointing a gun at him.

Nora. At the same age, they shared some classes at school and had become quick friends. He didn’t make friends easily, so the easy companionship he’d found with Nora meant a lot to him. She had an easy laugh and Daniel pretended not to notice the grief behind her eyes, nor did he ask about it. Avoidance had always been his defense mechanism. I won’t ask you if you don’t ask me. Orphan survival guide, page one. At least in his book.

Now, her pretty features were twisted, the hand holding the gun shaking violently. She spared a split-second glance for Daniel as he entered the room and came to a halt, raising his own hands on pure instinct.

“What’s gotten into you, Nora? Put that gun down,” Mr. Wickham commanded her. “I don’t want to call Social Services and get them involved. You put it down now and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

“I don’t want to pretend it never happened,” Nora gritted out. “I’m tired of pretending things didn’t happen!” She screamed the final two words and Mr. Wickham flinched.

Risking another step into the room, Daniel saw three foster kids, all younger than him, cowering behind Mr. Wickham, wide eyes focused on Nora. Two girls and one boy. One of the girls, Opal, held her head in her hands, rocking back and forth on the wood floor.

It became clear to Daniel that if she fired that gun at Mr. Wickham, one of the kids might get hit by mistake. With her hand trembling and tears clouding her vision, she could easily miss her target, even though he stood ten feet away.

Nora was a smart, reasonable girl. He just needed to talk to her, remind her that they only had to deal with foster parent bullshit until they turned eighteen and then the world would be theirs. No more packing and being shuffled around like old furniture twice a year. No more pitying looks from teachers or sharing a bedroom with three strangers. They’d be able to dictate their own lives.

“Nora, I think you should put the gun down. If you fire that thing, you might hit one of the kids.”

She jerked at the sound of his voice, but kept the gun leveled at Mr. Wickham. Just that momentary glimpse of her wild eyes told Daniel the situation was more serious than he’d originally thought. He didn’t see any trace of the Nora he knew. Almost like the sweet girl who saved Daniel all of her red Skittles had disappeared and been replaced by a hysterical version of herself.

“Maybe it would be for the best,” she answered, her voice higher-pitched than usual. “They wouldn’t have to live here anymore. Or live this life anymore. Or anything anymore!”

Daniel knew exactly what she meant. When you went to sleep every night never knowing what tomorrow held, the strain could get to you. If you let it build or thought about it too much, you would eventually snap. And Nora apparently had.

He tried a different approach, attempting a conversational tone. “You know this is only temporary. You want to be a veterinarian, remember? You shoot somebody and they probably won’t let you into veterinary school.”

“Oh God, oh God! It’s never going to happen. You think anything ever happens for us? It doesn’t. Stop pretending!” She swiped her runny nose across her shoulder. “This is not temporary. It’s going to follow us around for the rest of our lives.”

Opal had started wailing behind Mr. Wickham, curling into the fetal position. She was too young to realize her crying would only agitate Nora further. Mr. Wickham’s eyes darted between Daniel and Nora, but he didn’t speak, apparently depending on Daniel to talk Nora out of shooting him. A heavy weight pushed down on Daniel’s shoulders as the reality of that sank in.

“Look, at least let the kids leave. Please. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

She laughed bitterly. “We didn’t do anything wrong either and look at us. I know you’re not as happy as you pretend to be. I see right through you, Daniel. You’re just as scared as I am.”

Despite the painful shock of her words, he experienced a sense of relief. Her eyes were returning to normal, her voice regaining its regular pitch. If he just talked to her a little more, he would calm her down completely and she would put down the gun.

“You’re right, okay? I’m scared, too. This sucks. It all sucks. But we don’t have a choice. We just have to get through it.” Opal’s wails had subsided into quiet sobs. He pushed once more. “Let the kids leave.”

Irritation flashed in her face. “Fine!”

All three kids jumped to their feet and fled the room.

Before Daniel could speak, Mr. Wickham edged toward Nora. “All right, now. Just hand over the gun. Whatever you’re upset about, we can figure out a way to make it better.”

The frenzied look entered her eyes once more and Daniel wanted to shout at Mr. Wickham. He’d nearly succeeded in bringing her back to reality and in one second, all his progress had been ruined.

“Oh, sure. You’re the ones who’ll finally figure me out, right? Make the past disappear for me?” Her voice sounded flat. Tears coursed down her cheeks. Suddenly the gun steadied in her hand. “You are both liars. Just like the rest of them.”

She cocked the gun.

“No!” Daniel yelled.

Too late. The gun exploded, lodging a bullet in Mr. Wickham’s chest. He looked down at the bullet wound before dropping to the floor, blood blooming across the front of his shirt.

Nora locked eyes with Daniel. And he knew.

“Nora, put the gun down.”

“I can’t.”

Then she pointed it at him.