Cuff Me Lacy (3 page)

Shivers ran up and down her spine in the same rhythm of his hand rubbing up the inside of her thigh.

"Chrissie, we've been together for years and I've been thinking it may be time—"

"Hold on.” She moved his hand off her lap. “We
were
together. We're not anymore. Especially after not hearing from you for three months, I don't consider us an
us
at all.” Staring into his dark blue eyes, she could see the hurt building in them.

"Honey, you're home to me.” He grazed her cheek with his knuckles. “No matter what, no matter how, I always end up coming home to you. Chrissie, we're good together. There is no bullshit, no show, just you and me. I've never had to pretend to be anyone I'm not when I'm with you. I've always been completely comfortable around you."

"Me too.”
Up until now. Don't ruin things.
“But I'm not sure we should be discussing such heavy things tonight. I can't handle it."

"What's wrong, baby? Headache?"

No! It's just that all my hormones are out of whack, and I haven't been laid in a long, long time. I need to workout all this pent up lust and channel my energies constructively. Then, I won't be thinking about Paddy the way I have, and I'll be in my comfort zone of our typical sex marathons.

Well, that was what she wanted to say, but instead, she nodded and said, “It's a doozy. It came up out of nowhere this afternoon, and it's been getting stronger by the minute."

His understanding gaze stoked her guilt. “Don't worry. I didn't come out tonight with any expectation other than to enjoy the company of my best lady."

"No expectation? Nothing in the way of some physical fun?"

"That is your choice.” He raised his glass and drank the wine. “But if you don't feel well, you need to rest. There will be plenty of time in the future for us."

Wait a minute. She hadn't said yes. Had she?

She shifted to the left and away from him. She needed her space. Unlike in the past, his touch wasn't making her warm and tingly. She actually wasn't even enjoying his attentions.

Her soup could have been a bowl of cereal for all she knew, because she just scooped and sipped as Bill spoke about his plans to move back and work with a program in the city an hour from Littleville. He was talking to her, but her mind was going a hundred miles an hour. She couldn't focus.

Bill wanted to make a difference in the life of a kid choosing a football career as a ticket out of the projects. The players from well off families, like Mr. B's grandson, weren't his concern. Bill was worried about the kid who had to support his mother and siblings from the game.

"I want to let them know how important it is to make the right choice. Not to father babies just to prove they are men, but to treat women with respect and to have children only when they can be dads."

She nodded. “That makes sense."

"It is an epidemic with these kids.” Bill leaned his hands on the table and met her gaze. “They think it is cool or hip to have babies all over the place. They brag about how many they can make. So, I think this position is a great opportunity to work with them before it is too late. Plus, this gives me a bit of leverage and influence with them.” He raised his hand and showed her his Super Bowl ring.

"I think you're right.” Chrissie pushed her bowl forward and dabbed her lips with the napkin. “But how will you be able to stick around and be consistent if you're at camp or playing?"

Frown lines spread over his forehead. “You haven't been following the news?"

News? No. Not anything on the sport's page. She'd been avoiding it with a very specific effort. She hadn't wanted to see pictures of Bill with other women and be reminded that he'd dumped her.

She shook her head.

"I retired.” He let out a long sigh and grinned in a satisfied manner. “This is my third ring, baby. I have the money I want to retire, and with good investments, I can work only when I want to. I've been talking with the network about a sportscaster's position. I think I'd enjoy that."

"Probably,” she said.
You'd be in the spotlight. It always has been, and is, about you
. “Yeah, you'd like that."

The main dish arrived and the waiter refilled their wine glasses before he left them alone.

She twirled the pasta on her spoon and pushed the shrimp from one end of the plate to the other, as her mind wandered to what Paddy was doing. Bill finished his meal and ordered dessert before she had the chance to object. She really wanted to get home. Maybe she'd take a walk to the pond, and if luck was on her side, she'd run into Patrick.

"Baby, you're a hundred miles away?” Bill pressed his fork through the tall layers of chocolate, eyeing her closely. “You haven't touched your tiramisu."

"I'm sorry.” She raised a tiny bite to her lips and smiled as she swallowed.

Bill had offered her exactly what she'd asked for: a nice comfortable home, children in the yard, a talented husband in her bed, and for all appearances sake, a good marriage.

Then why wasn't she jumping at the chance?

"We have a training event for new recruits in the morning.” she said, fabricating the lie to buy some time to think. “I've been working on the exercises for three weeks and need to get home to review them one last time."

Taken aback, Bill's eyes grew large. “No problem, baby. Just think about our conversation while you work.” He raised his hand and asked for the check. “I've missed you."

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True to his word, Bill escorted Chrissie home and kissed her goodnight on the forehead before driving off.

Entering the house, Chrissie kicked off her heels and threw her bag onto the table, sighing when she glimpsed the wine Patrick had dropped off.

Fuck!

Her life never went as she planned. She was sick and tired of going with the flow and just taking what came her way. To top it all off, she was too damn restless, and her mind was stuck on a man she had no right to think of.

His
Jag wasn't parked in his driveway, so obviously he wasn't sitting at home brooding over her. But here she was, thinking about Paddy's broad shoulders, those freaking thread-bare, tight-fitting jeans, and that gorgeous mouth of his. She shouldn't be, but once again she was rushing to the back window and checking to see if he'd returned.

Nothing. No lights were on at his house.

She turned on the faucet and got a glass of water to carry up to bed. Walking back to the foyer, she locked the door and climbed the stairs to her room. It was going to be a long, fuck-free night.

Lying in bed, she stared at the ceiling fan for two hours. She wasn't going to get any rest, and she'd be useless in the morning. Granted, she'd lied about the training, but she did have a manual to turn in next week and had planned on doing the final edits on it the next day.

The measly fictional account of what-ifs she put in those training manuals was her way of making a profit off her writing. Even though she couldn't write her novels for a living, she was able to make some money concocting these training scenarios for the police department. Not only did she use her personal experience in compiling the manual, but she put much field and interview research into it. Her professional advancement depended on things like this, and she couldn't afford to look unprepared or like an amateur. She had a reputation to uphold.

Maybe her personal life sucked, but at work she made a tremendous difference. Littleville was a tiny and sleepy town, but she worked with the sheriff's department. The county's jurisdiction was large and encompassed one of the biggest and poorest cities in the country. Even the old steel mills which were abandoned decades ago had seen facelifts and the city experienced a large resurgence in population. Hence, a rise in crime.

She flipped on to her stomach and pulled the pillow over her head, picturing the scenario she'd suggest for new trainees. But rather than seeing the bad guys splattered with the paintball guns in the decrepit building they'd enter, her mind kept featuring Paddy slinging the freaking ax.

A car's engine purred to a halt under her window, and she jumped out of bed to look outside. He was there. Dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a white button down shirt, Paddy strutted up the stairs of his porch.

A tingle burned in her stomach. She wanted to know were he'd been and with whom. But it wasn't her business and she shouldn't care. After all, she'd been out with Bill and he'd proposed to her. Bill had offered her everything she'd ever wanted, and all she could do was sit here and watch a dark house.

A distant glow from the hallway shined from Paddy's bedroom. Lowering herself to the window seat, she leaned a little closer and waited.

Appearing shirtless and on his way to removing the remainder of his clothes, he strolled into the center of her field of vision and threw something over the chair by the bed before sitting in it. Bending over his feet, he must have been untying his shoes as she held her breath. Then he stood, his broad back to her, and dropped his pants. He stepped out of them and draped them onto the seat.

Licking her lips, she was mesmerized as the almost naked man moved about his room in a pair of white boxers searching in his dresser for something.

The light from the hallway was just bright enough to outline his body, and the moon took care of the rest. She had a clear picture from where she sat. Feeling just a little guilty, or perhaps more worried about being seen, she moved slightly behind the curtain to enjoy the view.

Paddy looked hard and chiseled, and all she wanted to do was run her nails over that muscled back and cup his perfect glutes as she pulled him against her. She wanted to feel him, taste him, and make love to him.

Wondering if his palms would be chafed from the afternoon's wood chopping, a sizzling sensation ran over her core as she envisioned his hands tracing her chest and roaming over her starved body.

She didn't move, but her fingers did, and stealing under her thin cotton tank, they found her pebbled nipples. She moaned as she rolled the peaks, first slow and gentle, and then a little faster and harder.

Oh, she wanted him alright. She needed him.

No! What she needed was a good lay and a mind blowing orgasm.

But there was nobody here to help. She'd been in this situation for freaking months and it was driving her nuts. Her only option was to go at it alone. Again.

"What the fuck..."

Practically falling off her seat while reaching for the side table, she found her balance by dropping her right foot to the ground and doing funky acrobatic maneuvers to grab her favorite toy. She didn't want to miss a move Patrick made. So what if she was watching without his knowledge? If he didn't want her to see, he should've pulled the shade.

She let out a long breath as he walked out of view and her fingers closed about the long rubber shaft.

Dropping her knees to either side of her, she fit her butt snug against the pillows and threw her head back against the wall. Chrissie gave into her fantasy and closed her eyes.

Patrick was with her. His rough hands skimmed down her chest and over her abdomen as his mouth followed. He dropped to his knees and pushed her thighs apart. At eye level with her, he grinned in a devilish way with a sparkle in his dark gaze.

Wetness pooled in the center of the pink panties she wore, outlining the results of her well-spent sixty bucks at the spa. A thick thumb traced the damp evidence of her physical state and moved the material to the side, making room for his fingers to slide between her sleek folds.

He found the pulsating nub at the top. “Breathe for me, Lacy."

She moaned and adjusted her hips to allow him more access. The pressure built and her toes curled as her body hummed with the pleasure he bestowed on her sensitive sex.

"That's it, honey. Come for me.” He suckled hard on her nipple and slipped his finger deep inside her aching hole. His thumb brushed over her clit, and piercing waves of bliss shot through her body. Adding one more finger, he pumped his hand faster. “Does that help?"

"Mmmmm,” she whimpered, lifting and gyrating her hips to the rhythm he set. He helped. All the sexual frustration that had built these weeks was about to explode.

Tangling her fingers into his hair, she tugged him closer. She wanted more, and he gave it to her.

Abandoning her straining nipples, his lips roamed south and quickly settled over her clit. He licked and sucked while still pumping in and out of her with his magical fingers. Her body was flailed on the edge of her climax, raising her physical awareness to new heights.

Her toes tingled as his tongue traveled the length of her wet slit.

She arched her back. “More..."

He reached deeper and his tongue flicked over her throbbing button.

No longer able to stifle her scream of ecstasy, she let go.

"Oh, Patrick. Yes!"

The world erupted. Heat and ice danced over her, and light streaked through her tightly shut lids. She gulped at the cool night air, dropping her vibrator to the floor.

"Hey, Lacy,” Patrick's voice sounded through the darkness, prevailing over the pleasure toy's soft humming.

Snapping her knees together, she turned to find him standing at his window, less than forty feet from her own. She yanked her hand out of her shirt and moved her panties to cover her shiny pussy.

"Thought I saw you sitting there.” Patrick adjusted his towel, and she wet her lips as her clit pulsed at the sight of him.

Holy shit!

She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “Hi. You're home.” Damn, she sounded ridiculous. How long had he been watching her?

"Just took a shower and I'm getting ready for bed."

"I see,” she said, unable to inch her gaze from the man framed in the window. The towel hugged his hips, covering the bare essentials she'd been fantasizing about only moments ago, and the moonlight glistened on the water droplets adorning his body.

"How was your date?"

She bit her lower lip, attempting to steady her breath. “It was okay.” Then she coughed as she choked on her words.