Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set (11 page)

“That’s some view,” he says after a few moments.

I look up and he is gazing out the balcony doors at the setting sun and the Olympic Mountains. “Would you like to sit outside for a while,” I ask. He shrugs in response and I gather up my bottle of Izze and head over to the balcony doors as he follows.

“It’s a nice night,” I say as we walk out onto the balcony and over to the railing. I perch my drink on the railing and he is quiet as he stands next to me and takes a swig of his beer. I feel another frisson of electricity run throughout my entire body at his proximity. He sets his beer on the railing next to my juice and we stand and take in the view for several minutes, neither of us saying a word and I am suddenly extremely nervous. It’s as if I can feel the anxiety rolling off of him in waves and it’s making me tense. “I always marvel at this view,” I say quietly. Nervously. “I’ve painted it a few times. It really is quite lovely.”

“Yes. It is.” His voice is soft and husky, and it sounds as though he’s struggling with himself. And when I glance up at him, he is staring at me intently. He’s not looking at the view at all.
Oh my.
And before I know what’s happening, he reaches out and weaves a hand through my hair, palming the back of my head, and gently pulling me towards him as he leans down to kiss me.

His lips touch mine forcefully and I moan, giving his tongue all the invitation it needs. He kisses me slowly, his tongue stroking mine in a hot, passionate, erotic slow dance, as if he’s tasting me. Savoring me. Timidly, my tongue begins to move, exploring and caressing his. I feel his other hand fisting in my hair and then it slowly travels down my body, pulling me close to him as he continues to hold my head in place with the other. My hands reach up and into his soft, wavy hair and he groans in response as his hand finds my backside and lightly squeezes. I moan into his mouth once more and he pulls away looking deep into my eyes. We are both breathless and he takes a step back, releasing me and running a hand through his own hair as he looks away.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself. He sounds aggravated. I say nothing as I try desperately to gather my scattered wits about me. He looks back at me and his eyes seem to be filled with some inner turmoil. “I’m sorry, Samantha,” he says gruffly. “That was … way out of line. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

What? No!
“I didn’t think it was out of line,” I say, still breathless. “Please, don’t apologize.”

He looks at me and I can still see he’s fighting some sort of internal battle. “It was out of line, Samantha,” he insists. “And it can’t happen again.” He sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself, not me.

“I don’t understand,” I say softly. “Why not?”

“Because of the job,” he almost yells, looking at me as if I don’t understand two plus two. “You are the victim in a case I’m investigating,” he continues. “It is wrong on so many levels.”

“Oh.” My voice is small and uncertain. And suddenly, I feel like a silly little girl. I wrap my arms around myself protectively.

He sighs heavily and runs both his hands through his hair again. Then he takes a step closer to me and says, “Samantha, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you. I am just … angry and frustrated at myself. I should never have let this happen. I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

“I’m glad you came by tonight,” I say honestly. “I’m not sorry we kissed.”

“Samantha,” he says, looking at me forlornly as he leans back against the railing of the balcony. Then he says nothing as he reaches out and caresses my face, running his thumb over my bottom lip. “It was some kiss,” he whispers, as if to himself, his eyes never leaving my mouth. He straightens suddenly and says, “I should go.”

“Okay,” I say softly and turn to lead him back into the apartment. I watch in silence as he dons his sexy, black leather jacket.

“Thank you for sharing your dinner with me,” he says, a sad smile playing at the corners of his beautiful, sculptured mouth.

“Anytime,” I respond quietly. Sadly. And suddenly, I can’t stop myself. I have to know something. “Josh?” I ask as he heads for the door.

“Yes?”

I hesitate slightly, unsure if I want to know the answer … or if he’ll even answer me honestly. “If this investigation didn’t exist … or if it were over …,” he doesn’t give me a chance to get it out before he interrupts me.

“In a heartbeat, Samantha!” His voice is earnest as his piercing blue eyes bore into mine. “If this investigation were over …,” he pauses a moment and swallows. “This evening would be ending very differently.” He turns then and opens the door. “Come. Lock this behind me,” he gently commands.

I move silently toward the door, coming to a stop directly in front of him.

“Goodnight, Samantha,” he whispers. To my surprise, he bends and lightly kisses my forehead.

“Goodnight, Josh.”

He leaves, closing the door behind him and I take a few deep breaths. “Lock it,” he says forcefully from the other side. I smile at his unexpected words but say nothing. I reach up and lock the door with a flourish. “Good girl,” he says. And as I stand on my tip toes to look out the peep hole, I see him smile slightly and walk away … just as Madonna begins to sing of forbidden love on my iPod.

Chapter Six

Joshua

What is wrong with me? As I walk away from her door and head to the elevator, I am aware that I have the most ridiculous smile on my face but I can’t seem to stop. She is so … beautiful. And sweet. And totally out of my league. What the hell am I doing? This girl is so far out of my league she should not even be on my radar. The fact is, if she hadn’t been attacked, our paths would probably never have crossed. It’s not like we would ever run in the same circles. She’s a fucking heiress, for crying out loud; I’m sure I wouldn’t ever run across her hanging out at The Slammer on a Saturday night.

She certainly doesn’t act like an heiress though.
What was all that noise about feeling like she doesn’t have a right to her trust fund? Doesn’t sound like any rich person I’ve ever encountered. I would think most people who were raised with money would have no qualms about spending it. I’d expect them to be spoiled or to feel entitled. But she seemed genuine when she said that money was just handed to her. That she hadn’t done anything to deserve it. She said she wanted to do something good with her money. I did not expect that to come out of her mouth. I didn’t expect to feel so confused about this girl either. I didn’t expect to find her so damned attractive. And I certainly didn’t expect to get lost when I look into her eyes.

Fuck. Snap out of it, Pierce!
I roll my eyes at myself as I stride out of the building and over to my Charger. What the hell was I thinking, coming here? Why did I come here tonight? I knew all day long, as I worked on my Charger that I would end up at Miss Colby’s apartment.
Samantha’s
apartment. And I knew when I slid behind the wheel and started the Charger up, that it was a mistake. But I did it anyway. I had to. I had to fucking see her again. I ran by the hospital at lunchtime only to be told that she had been discharged. I made up my mind in that instant that I would stop by her apartment at some point during the day. What the hell is
wrong
with me?

I tried to stop myself from ringing her doorbell. I must have stood in that hallway for an eternity, trying to talk myself into just turning around and leaving but, I couldn’t. I had to see her. And when she opened that door … oh, my God. She looked sensational! That long mane of chestnut brown hair flowing over her shoulders, those big magical green eyes and soft, full lips. And that body, sweet Jesus! That form-fitting sweat suit left just the right amount to the imagination – hugging her hips and ass, accentuating her tiny waist and perfect, bra-less tits. Watching her move around her kitchen in that tight little number … I honestly don’t know which was more mouthwatering – the delicious aroma of whatever she was cooking, or just the mere sight of her. When she asked me to join her for dinner, I couldn’t resist. And God knows I tried.

Fuck. And I can’t believe I kissed her!
What the hell were you thinking, Pierce? Where was your head at?
I snort. I know exactly where my head was at. Exactly where it’s been every day since I met her. Oh, but man, what a kiss! That was unlike anything I have ever experienced. That kiss was … on fire! Hell, it was all I could do to pull away. And I finally think I know what Steven Tyler meant when he said that he knew all he needed to know by the way that he got kissed.

I shake my head as if I’m trying to understand it. I’m stopped at a red light and my mind is replaying that kiss over and over. I am lost in thought when the light turns green, unbeknownst to me, and the cars behind me start to honk their horns. I snap out of my erotic daydreams and quickly proceed through the intersection.

I have kissed a lot of girls in my time. A lot of girls. But I have never had a kiss that left me reeling the way this one did. I have never been with anyone who affected me the way this girl does. I feel like I lose all my self control when I’m near her. Like I can’t think properly … can’t stop myself from doing wrong things.
Like making up excuses to see her. Like staying for dinner. Like kissing her!
This is not like me. I don’t lose control. Ever. Especially not around a woman. I keep the upper hand at all times, which is why I never get involved. Meaningless one-night stands is all I have ever been interested in. And yet, I know that this girl is not my typical ‘one-night stand.’ And I think that’s what scares me. I know that this girl is not the type that I could just fuck and then walk away from. She’s more than that, she’s … better than that. She deserves better than that. And I don’t know if I have it in me
not
to walk away.

I pull into my driveway and push the automatic garage door opener, and slowly ease my Charger into her spot. As I get out of the car, I hit the automatic opener again and the door slowly comes down behind me as I take the car cover and carefully begin to drape it over the Charger, putting her away for a couple of days. The forecast called for rain and I am obsessive about only driving her in good weather. As I go about my task, I can’t keep Samantha out of my thoughts. And I think about what Lee Parson said to me yesterday about feeling sorry for me. About not letting what happened with my old man rob me of a real future. About me not being like him. I don’t know if I believe that. From what I can see, me and the old man have a few things in common. More than I’d like to admit. And I just can’t see the wisdom of putting some poor girl in harm’s way just to try and prove a point. Like I’m the subject of some fucked up nature vs. nurture science experiment.

I finish putting the Charger to bed and head out of the garage through the side door, making sure to lock it securely behind me. Then I walk the couple of yards that stretch between the garage and the house, and enter through the side door that opens onto the kitchen, locking the door behind me. As I remove my jacket and place it on the wooden kitchen table, I am reminded of Samantha’s apartment. Man, talk about luxury! I look around my meager kitchen and I know that there is no way I could ever begin to afford the rent on a place like that. And I wonder briefly how much a place like that goes for. It was like something out of a movie – all high end, glass and chrome and marble and leather. Everything top of the line, from the cabinets and the appliances to the leather sofas and the fancy tile work. And that was just the kitchen and living room! I sigh as I take a bottle of water out of the fridge and chug down half of it. Then I turn and head through the house toward my bedroom. As I go, my mind keeps replaying scenes from Samantha’s apartment and I wonder what she would think of this place. Although, what she said about her family’s money and doing something good with it intrigued me. Maybe the material stuff isn’t all that important to her. Still, I wonder.

My place is modest. A small one-bedroom house in a decent, working class neighborhood. It’s really two bedrooms but, I’ve turned the spare room into an exercise area so, it now houses my treadmill, a workout bench and some free weights, and a heavy boxing bag. There’s also a TV in there so I can watch the news or ESPN or the Speed Channel while I work out. The kitchen and living area are combined and you could probably fit both rooms into Samantha’s living room and still have space to spare. There is one bathroom and it is small but, all the amenities are there. But it’s only me so, the space suits me. I don’t need a whole lot of room. Besides, the real selling point for me was the detached two car garage. Having a place to store the Charger out of the weather was the priority. I didn’t scrimp and save and work on her for all these years for nothing.

I enter my bedroom and take my gun out of the belt holster at my back and place it, my half full bottle of water, and my cellphone on the table beside the bed and then proceed to get undressed. I still can’t get Samantha off my mind and I find myself just thinking about her smile. Or her eyes. They looked so sad before I left. She wanted me to stay. I think she wanted me. I take a deep breath and let out a slow sigh. I know I wanted her. I have wanted her since I met her. But I can’t do this. And it’s not about the job; forget the fucking job. I can’t do this to her. I don’t want to hurt her by not sticking around, and I don’t know if that’s something I’m willing to try. It’s one thing to lose my temper with one of the guys at the station because they can handle me. Or with some scum bag on the street who deserves my wrath. But I don’t know how I would handle any kind of argument or confrontation with a woman I’m supposed be in a relationship with because I’ve never put myself in a position to find out.

Parson asked me if I was afraid that I would become my old man. Fuck yes, I’m afraid of that! Who wouldn’t be? Danny Pierce was a mean son of a bitch on a good day. Get a little booze into him and watch out. When I think about the shit he put me and my mother through over the years … no way do I want to repeat that history. I decided a long time ago that I would never allow myself to become like him, and if that meant avoiding any real intimacy with a woman, then so be it. I have never regretted that decision. I poured myself into my schoolwork and then my job. Dedicated myself to becoming the best cop that I can be. I never had time for a relationship and that’s the way I like it. At least, it was. Until I encountered Samantha Colby. Now I don’t know which fucking way is up. I find myself thinking about the strangest things. Like wondering what she looks like first thing in the morning without a stitch of makeup and her hair all tousled. Or what it would feel like to end each day by making love to her at night. Yeah, funny, right? I have never ‘made love’ before in my life. I don’t think I’ve ever even uttered the words. So why is it suddenly all I can think about? Slowly kissing every inch of her? I don’t just want to fuck this girl, I want…