Damaged Goods (Don't Call Me Hero Book 2) (21 page)

“I don’t know how you expect to do that,” she scoffed. “There’s no way I’m lying on these floors.”

I leaned in close. “My apartment. My rules,” I husked into her ear.

When I pulled back, her dark eyes had widened. It was a rare moment when I could get the upper hand with her, but I was learning. Her look of surprise was quickly shuttered, however. “Very well,” she clipped.

I resumed slicing the lime. Julia observed my work and leaned against the countertop. “Do you really think my bellybutton is cute?” she asked. She pulled at the bottom hem of her t-shirt, revealing a few inches of her flat abdomen. She knew exactly what she was doing, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to complain.

My smirk turned into a leer. “You’re so fucking edible,” I practically growled.

I dropped the knife, and my hands were on her hips in a flash. My fingers dug in and held her in place. The sharp pain made her eyes roll back, and I heard her breath quicken in her throat. I latched onto her neck, hot and desperate. I raked my canines over her pulse point in a way that I hoped would make her knees buckle.

“What about the tequila?” she managed to pant out.

I pulled back and loosened my grip at her hips. “You’re right.” I raked my eyes up and down her lithe figure. “We have all night.”

I let go of her even though it took all of my willpower not to have my way with her right there, tequila be damned. I didn’t stray far though, only back to the countertop to line up the lime wedges.

“Okay, tequila lesson number one,” I began. “These,” I said, pointing to a salt shaker and the row of lime slices, “are called training wheels. Normally I’m not a fan because I like my tequila straight up, but it’s super sexy fun.”

“So, you’ve done this before?” she asked. “With other people? With other girls, perhaps?”

My mouth fell open. “Uh.”

Whoops.

My eyes dropped to the floor. “It was way before I knew you,” I weakly explained.

She folded her arms across her chest. “Are you going to lecture about tequila all night, or are we actually going to drink?”

My lips curled at their edges when I recognized that she wasn’t really mad. “Take off your shirt.”

“Why?”

“I wouldn’t want it to get dirty,” I explained. “Obviously.”

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously,” she mimicked. Despite her initial resistance, she grabbed the bottom hem of her v-neck shirt and pulled it up over her head.

I drank in the light olive skin tone, her feminine abs, and the way her dark red bra struggled to contain her breasts. It was an admirable feat and I couldn’t wait to get her out of it.

I took a step closer and ran my fingers beneath her bra straps. “Maybe you should take this off, too?” I suggested. Her skin was impossibly soft. “Wouldn’t want your bra to get dirty, too.”

She smirked. “That’s quite the line.”

I stuck out my lower lip. “But I like it when you’re naked.”

She gently pressed her lips to mine. She tasted like cinnamon. “We have all night, remember?”

I nodded and sucked in a sharp breath. Before I could get myself too worked up, I turned my attention back to the alcohol, salt, and limes. “Back to business,” I pronounced, rubbing my hands together. “The theme of the night is Lick It, Suck It, Bite It, okay?”

“I’m not a complete novice,” she sniffed. “I’ve seen this done before.”

I laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your alcohol acumen.” I began to rearrange the few items on my kitchen counter.

“Now what are you doing?”

I wiggled my eyebrows. “Making room.”

“For wha …” Her words stopped short when I tugged off my t-shirt. I hopped up on the counter and proceeded to make myself comfortable.

I grinned up at her from a reclined position. “So you don’t have to lie on the dirty floor,” I explained.

Julia stared down at me like I was a dinner buffet and she hadn’t eaten in months.

“Grab that bottle,” I urged her.

She did as she was told. “Now what?”

I flexed the muscles in my stomach. “Pour yourself a drink.”

Julia hovered near my bellybutton and carefully tipped the open bottle. Since it was new, the liquid eagerly spilled over the top rim and splashed down onto my stomach and elsewhere. My countertop and floors were going to be a mess after tonight.

I held my body tense so as to not let any more tequila spill. “Salt.”

She nodded even though she looked like she could give a damn about the training wheels or the tequila. She licked the inside of her wrist and sprinkled some salt onto the skin. I watched with half-lidded eyes as she flicked her tongue against the tiny white crystals.

“Now suck.”

Julia smirked and dipped her head. She snaked her tongue out and dipped just the tip into the hollow of my bellybutton. She widened her mouth around the shallow indentation and proceeded to suck the alcohol out.

“Bite?” My voice wavered.

Julia straightened and grabbed a lime wedge from the cutting board. She bit down on the fruit slice and for a fleeting moment I was jealous of that lime.

That thought was quickly wiped away, however, when I felt her mouth against my bare collarbone.

“But there’s no tequila there,” I protested.

She grabbed the saltshaker and sprinkled the area where her tongue had previously been present. She leaned down, and with one long and slow lick, she rid my skin of the salt. “Just mixing things up,” she breathed.

“I don’t know if that’s allowed.”

She lifted the bottle again and gave me a mischievous grin. “Round two?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “And feel free to, uh, lick other places, too,” I stumbled. “You don’t have to stick to my bellybutton.”

“But your pants are still on,” she husked out with an evil twist of her lips.

I watched the muscles in her throat working as she brought her wrist to her mouth to dampened the skin and begin the ritual once again.

The second time around, Julia liberally poured the tequila over my stomach. It collected in my bellybutton and pooled elsewhere like in the slight depressions of my ribcage. She sucked the liquid out of my bellybutton and allowed her tongue the freedom to travel lower, tasting the salty liquid on my flesh.

“Lime?” I managed to groan when she sucked hard against my hipbones.

Her breath was hot against my skin. “I don’t think I’m a fan of training wheels either.”

Her tongue was on my neck next, and I tilted my head to the side, affording her better purchase. She salted the damp skin and bathed it clean again with her tongue.

I let out a surprised sound when she yanked down on my bra so that my breasts popped free over the underwire. She poured more tequila, splashing the amber liquid on my collarbone and naked breasts. Before the liquid had time to settle on my skin, her lips were on me once again. At this point, the tequila was just a vehicle to get to my body.

She sucked a nipple into her mouth and eagerly tongued at the sensitive nerves.

“Something,” I groaned, arching into her, “tells me you’ve done this before, too.”

She released my nipple with a noisy popping sound and grinned lasciviously. “Maybe.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Mendez left the squad car running outside of a coffee shop in our section. “Two sugars, skim milk.” He stared straight ahead. I had expected an eventual thawing in the Cold War between us, but even after multiple weeks of working together, he continued to give me the hot and cold routine. Some moments he seemed to forget he was my FTO and we joked around, but other times, like that moment, his sour demeanor returned.

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Yes, sir,” I mumbled.

The coffee shop was busy for an early afternoon. About five or six patrons stood in line ahead of me. If I had been a real asshole, I could have used my badge to work my way up to the front of the line. But I was neither a jerk, nor eager to get back into a car with Mendez. I had my radio on me, so I would know if we got called out on a complaint.

I routinely scanned the small coffee shop while I waited in line. The queue moved painstakingly slowly in front of me as the afternoon crowd ordered their overpriced caffeinated fix. I squinted my eyes when I spotted a pretty woman sitting by herself. Her ceramic cup was empty as was a small plate in front of her at the table where she sat. In one hand she held a worn paperback book while the other was settled on top of her pregnant belly.

I stepped out of line and walked up to the familiar woman. “Claire?”

She looked up from her book, and her eyes widened when they reached my face. “Cassidy, hey.”

I looked around for Pensacola, but I didn’t see him in the vicinity. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I thought you guys would be at Regions all day.”

“Terrance is,” she confirmed. “But I needed some time away from the hospital.”

“What are you doing way out here?” She had to be at least twenty miles from the hospital, and there was nothing special about this neighborhood coffee shop for her to have specifically sought it out.

A frown marred Claire’s pretty face. “T and I got in a fight this morning. I drove around for a while until I found myself here. Honestly, I don’t even know where exactly I am,” she said, shaking her head. “I just kept driving, trying to clear my head.”

I grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it up to her table before sitting down. My gun leather creaked as I sat down. It wasn’t as stiff as before, and a few more weeks of wear and tear would relax the material to where it was finally comfortable. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“It was a silly fight,” she dismissed. “I can’t even remember what it was about.”

I took her words at face value. “How’s Pense getting along with his clinical trial?”

“Good, I suppose. He won’t admit it, but it’s been physically exhausting for him. The doctors have him using muscles he probably hasn’t used since he lost his legs, but he’s a determined man.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. He was stubborn as a mule when we were in the desert. Anything less and we wouldn’t have survived.”

Claire began to fiddle with the teabag hanging from her empty mug. “He never talks about the war. Whenever I ask him about his time over there, he clams up.”

“It’s not an easy thing to talk about. I rarely do myself—I only told my shrink because I had to. Sometimes Julia’s able to coax it out of me.”

Claire looked up and her dark eyes penetrated mine. “Cassidy, I know we don’t know each other all that well, but could you do me a favor? I hate to even ask because you and Julia have already been so generous.”

“Of course. Anything. What is it?”

“Could you maybe talk to him for me? He’s been distant lately; I don’t know where his head’s been these past few weeks. I don’t know if it was just nerves because of the clinical trial or if it’s something else. And with the baby on the way …” She sighed and rubbed her swollen abdomen. “I’m worried about him, Cassidy.”

“I can’t promise he’ll open up to me either, Claire,” I warned, “but I’ll do my best.”

I left Claire to her book and her thoughts and finally got those coffees for my partner and myself.

Mendez thrummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel when I returned to the car. “Did you have to go to Columbia and harvest the beans yourself?” he complained.

“The line was long.”

Mendez shifted the car into drive and we went on to our next call.

+ + +

Julia twirled her pen between her fingers like a baton and periodically chewed on its cap in pensive contemplation. Her hair wasn’t long enough to pull back into a proper ponytail, so she had used a wide-banded hair band to keep her hair pulled back and away from her face. She wore proper pajamas with matching tops and bottoms, like a relic from an old movie. The top was too big and she didn’t button it all the way, leaving the neckline to fall open just at the tops of her breasts. The longer I stared at the swell of her chest and the promising crevice between her breasts, the more lost I became exploring her terrain.

We sat together on my living room couch, surrounded by storage boxes I had yet to get to. Knowing how she’d been with the mountain of mail I’d left on my dining room table, I wondered if it was only a matter of time before she took over this other chore I continued to neglect.

“What happened to the robe from the other night?” I wondered aloud.

“Every night can’t be pillow fights and lingerie, Miss Miller.”

“I don’t see why not.” I leaned into her with my shoulder resting against the side of her arm. “What are you reading?”

She barely looked up before returning her attention to the tiny black words on the page. “It’s a collection of court cases.”

“A little light reading before bed?” I teased.

“It’s for work.” Her lip curled up in distaste. “I’m looking for some kind of previous ruling that will help me out with a case I’m working on.”

“Haven’t you worked enough for today?” I poked at her side with what I hoped was a charming smile and puppy-like determination. “Your client won’t appreciate it when you’ve fried your brain.”

“I have to get this done,” she insisted.

“But I miss you.”

“I’m right here, darling.” Her tone was distracted—dismissive.

“No, you’re not. Your brain is back at your office.” I didn’t mean for it to happen, but a chill slid over my next words: “Your body might as well join it.”

She slowly lifted her gaze to meet mine. “Are you kicking me out?”

“No. I just want your attention.”

“If you wanted to date someone with banker’s hours, that’s not me.”

“I’m not expecting nine to five,” I defended. “But don’t you have to draw the line somewhere?”

“I don’t have the luxury of leaving my work at the office. If I’m going to do my job and do it well, these late nights are necessary,” she maintained. “It was like this when I was city prosecutor, too, which is one of the many reasons why I didn’t date before.”

It was a fair statement, but I couldn’t shake those ugly feelings of rejection and inadequacy that had me reading between the lines
: I warned you not to get involved
, her speech said to me
, but you wouldn’t listen.

I stood up from the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

Julia looked after my rising form. Her features indicated there was more she wanted to say to me, but she shoved that reaction back. “Okay,” she settled for.

It was only one word, but I couldn’t ignore the disappointment in her tone.

The quiet murmur of the television followed me back to the bedroom. My steps were deliberate and loud as I went down the hallway, making sure she heard every foot of my retreat. I flopped onto the bed, causing the wooden mattress frame to vocalize its protest of the heavy-handed abuse. I crossed my arms beneath my head like an unforgiving pillow and stared at the slow rotation of the ceiling fan over my bed. Moonlight illuminated the rotating blades and cast a repetitive, moving shadow on the ceiling.

I wasn’t tired. Childishly, I’d hoped that Julia would follow after me, not letting me leave the living room like that. But the longer I stared at the lazy twirl of the ceiling fan, the more apparent it became that she wasn’t coming. The TV stayed on in the other room, but besides its quiet drone, Julia was silent as she continued to work.

I was rolled on my side with my back facing the door when she finally came to bed much later. I hadn’t been able to fall asleep. In that time I had laid in bed, awake and blinking into the darkness, listening for any indication that Julia was coming to bed.

I felt the covers being rearranged, the sink of the mattress as she slid beside me, the press of her body behind me, and the weight of her arm draped over my waist.

“Cassidy?” she whispered into the base of my neck. Her breath was warm and tickled my skin.

I screwed my eyes shut and willed myself to slow my breathing so it would seem like I’d already fallen asleep. Her fingers poked into my ribs, testing me, while I concentrated on the gradual rise and fall of my chest.

She pressed the bottoms of her feet to the backs of my calves. Her feet were like ice, but I managed to remain silent and immobile—I had endured worse torture before. She waited for some reaction from me before moving her feet and retreating back on the mattress so we were no longer touching.

“Goodnight,” she whispered into the room.

I missed the feeling of her body warm against mine. I bit down on my lower lip. I would only have to roll over and all would be forgiven. Instead, stubborn pride had me remaining on my side with my back facing hers. Eventually, I surrendered to sleep.

I slept without dreaming and only awoke with the grating beep of my bedside alarm clock. I hit the off button and rolled onto my back. Beside me, Julia continued to sleep.

I climbed out of bed and got ready quietly so as not to disturb her. I didn’t know what time it was when she’d finally come to bed, but it had been later than usual. I ate my bowl of cereal at the coffee table without turning on the television. I pulled my hair up in a tight bun. I would shower at work after my workout. The police academy actually had some nice gymnasium facilities, including an indoor track. I liked running, but I abhorred treadmills. They made me feel too much like a hamster on a wheel.

I put my empty bowl and spoon in the sink and made sure the timer on the coffeemaker was set so Julia would have fresh coffee waiting for her when she woke up.

I had packed my duffle bag the previous night, but I remembered my boots were beneath my bed.

Julia was a lump under the covers. I could see the toes of my police boots peeking out from beneath the bed. I took a step into the room and the floorboards creaked beneath my feet. I froze at the sound.

The bed sheets rustled. “Cassidy?” came Julia’s sleepy mumble.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She pushed the covers away from her face and blinked up at me. “What time is it?” Her low-register voice was even raspier than usual.

“It’s early still,” I replied. “Go back to sleep.”

Her eyes seemed to refuse to open all the way. “Where are you going?”

“To work.” I held up my duffle bag as evidence. “I thought I’d work out at the police academy before my shift though.”

“Oh.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry I was such a jerk last night,” I quietly apologized. “I know how important your work is. I’ve got to learn to be a little less selfish and needy.”

Julia reached for me. Her warm fingers curled around my forearm. “I’m sorry, too. I don’t
want
to be a work-a-holic. This is all new to me. I’ve never had to be mindful of someone else’s schedule; I’ve never had someone else’s feelings to take into consideration. I know I need to find a better balance. I’ll try to be more considerate of our time together.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

“I’m gonna meet up with Pense after work and get a beer. Is that okay?”

“You’re a grown woman, Cassidy. You don’t have to get my permission.”

“I know. I just … I’ve never lived with someone before.”

“You never had a roommate?”

“Other Marines, sure. But nothing like this.”

“I would certainly hope not,” she gently smiled. “You don’t want to see what happens when I get jealous.”

“I’m glad we had this talk.”

“Me, too.”

I stood from the bed. “I’d better get going if I want to get some laps in before my shift.”

“Are you sure you have to go?” she asked. “You could give
me
a few laps instead.”

“Woman,” I clucked, “if I did that, I’d never make it to work.”

“Would that be so bad?” she practically purred.

I gave her a brief, chaste kiss on the mouth and scrambled for the nearest exit before I could fall victim to her offer and my lack of willpower.