Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set (15 page)

As I wait, I think back over the last few days and how my life seems to have spiraled out of control since I met this girl. The crazy part is, I still have no idea what happened. I went to the hospital to interview a victim. That’s all. I’ve done it a million times before. But one short conversation with this woman and suddenly I am doing things I never thought I would do. Thinking things I have never allowed myself to think about before. Entertaining thoughts that scare the hell out of me. And I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know if I even want to stop it. There is just something about her that I can’t let go of. And I know what I said about not wanting to hurt her and not knowing if I can stick around but, at this point, I can’t walk away from her either. And I don’t know why.

I think about Lee Parson again and what he said to me the other day about not letting my fear of becoming my old man determine my future. I know that his words make sense on some level. But on another, so does my fear. I know the statistics backwards and forwards. They play over and over in my head like an old vinyl record that skips. Impossible to ignore. Excruciatingly annoying. I sigh and run a hand through my hair in bewilderment. What the hell am I doing?

I suddenly see movement at the doors of the museum and I glance at my watch. 7:39 pm. In the dim light, I see Samantha and another woman walk out of the doors and stand talking for a moment. Her long hair is piled up in a bun but, I would recognize her beautiful frame anywhere. They say goodbye and head towards the lot, and I get out of my truck and close the door, leaning against it. I watch as the other woman veers off and walks toward the other area of the lot where the two other cars are parked and Samantha stops in her tracks when she sees me. She seems startled, and I wonder briefly if maybe she doesn’t recognize me in the dark. But as she begins walking toward me, I see that she’s wearing a small smile and a shocked expression on her lovely face.

“What are you doing here?” she says softly, and her voice sounds surprised. Disbelieving.

I blink at her question and take a deep breath. What am I doing here? I look into her big green eyes and answer her honestly. “The same thing I was doing at your apartment last night,” I shrug. “I want you to feel safe.”

She stares at me for what feels like forever, saying nothing. “Josh,” she finally whispers. “This was such an incredibly sweet and thoughtful thing to do. Thank you,” she says softly, her eyes searching mine.

“You are most welcome, Samantha.” It starts to rain softly then and we both glance up at the sky. “Come, let’s get you home,” I say opening her car door.

“Are you going to follow me home too?” she asks with a small smile. We are standing on either side of her open car door, just inches away from each other.

“Yes,” I answer her.

Again she just looks at me, as if she’s trying to figure me out. “I didn’t know the Seattle PD provided such service,” she jokes quietly.

“To serve and protect, ma’am,” I respond with a smirk, holding her steady gaze. And in that instant I am reminded of this morning at her apartment when I caught her looking at me with frank appraisal, and I know that whatever this is I’m feeling, it is not one sided. She wants me just as much as I want her. That much, I know for certain. Anything beyond that, I have no fucking clue. Her gaze wanders to my mouth and back again and I want to kiss her, but I am barely holding on by a thread. “Get in, Sam,” I tell her. “We’re going to be soaked.”

She does as she’s told and I close her door and climb back into my truck and roll up the window. She starts up her car and I slowly follow her out of the lot and onto the street, and we head toward her place. The whole drive over, I am trying to tell myself that I’ll just follow her home and then go. I won’t even get out of the truck, I’ll just wait to make sure she gets into the building all right and then I’m gone. But when we pull into the parking lot of her apartment building, all that goes out the window. I park in the spot next to hers. The rain shower has stopped again and so, I get out of my truck and open her car door for her.

“Are you coming in?” she asks me softly.

“No.” My voice is quiet and firm. I have done what I set out to do in seeing her home safely. Now I’m struggling to maintain some sense of professionalism. I’ll just watch her enter the building, and then I’ll leave. That’s what I tell myself. But I hear myself saying, “But I will walk you to your door, if you’d like.”

“Okay,” she smiles sweetly. I hold my hand out, inviting her to lead the way and she turns and heads into the building. She waves hello to the doorman and the security guard and strides toward the elevator, then she turns to look at me as she presses the call button. “You did mean my actual door, right?”

“If you’d like,” I say with a small smile.
Damn it, Pierce. Leave now! Tell her goodnight, and leave now.

She nods and we step into the elevator. She is quiet on the ride up and she won’t look me in the eye, and I wonder furiously what she’s thinking. She seems nervous. She looks so cute with her hair up in that bun and it gives me an unobstructed view of her delicate neck. And suddenly I become aware that I’d like to run my tongue all the way up from her collar bone to her earlobe.
Shit. No further than the door, Pierce. You are stopping at the door!

The elevator comes to a stop on the top floor and we exit and head to her apartment. As she places her key in the lock she turns to me and blushes slightly. “Thank you for escorting me up,” she says softly. “And for waiting for me in the parking lot. That was the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me, Josh,” she says, fixing me with those enchanting green eyes of hers.

I swallow hard. “Like I said, I just wanted you to feel safe,” I say quietly. And to my surprise, she stands on her tip toes and kisses my cheek. My cock twitches in response to the unexpected touch of her lips on my skin.
Fuck. Do not go through that door, Pierce!

She opens the door and steps in, turning on the light in the living room. Then she turns to me and says, “Are you sure you won’t come in? Maybe … check all the closets and cupboards.”

At her words I can feel my pulse quicken as my heart begins to pound. Does she know what she’s saying? Is she asking what it sounds like she’s asking?
Don’t go in!
And I know that this is a mistake. But I hear myself say, “If you’d like.”

Chapter Nine

Samantha

Check all the closets and cupboards? Did I really just say that?
Yes, you did.
My subconscious arches an eyebrow at me and I can’t blame her. What a forward thing for me to say. It was a blatant come on. An excuse to get him in the door. I don’t know whether to be proud or scandalized at my own behavior! What is he going to think? Oh, God. What if he thinks I want to have sex?
Well, isn’t that why you’ve practically pulled him through the door, Sam?
I roll my eyes at myself as he walks in and I close and lock the door behind him.

When I turn around, I am startled to find that he’s standing directly behind me, barely a foot between us, and he’s watching me intently. His bright blue eyes are boring into mine. Without a word, he reaches out and wraps his left arm around my waist, his hand coming to rest at the small of my back, and he pulls me sharply to him. My surprise at the gesture makes me gasp and his mouth is on mine in an instant. His tongue is relentless as he holds me fast, one hand at my back and the other cradling the back of my head and holding it in place. And I am drowning in him, unable and unwilling to come up for air. Our tongues thrash and gyrate together in an endless erotic embrace and I grab onto his rock solid arms when I feel my knees growing weak.

We are both panting when he finally pulls away and I look up into his impossibly blue eyes. They are the color of the Mediterranean and they take my breath away. Suddenly I am extremely nervous and I begin to ramble on self-consciously.

“Um, would … would you like something to drink?” I ask him nervously, still clutching his muscular arms as I’m wrapped snugly in his embrace. “Or, I could … um, make us something to eat if you’re hungry.” My voice is small and shaky as I glance anxiously over at the kitchen.

“Maybe after,” he says, still watching me intently. His voice is low and husky.

Oh.

“After?” My voice is barely a whisper.

“After,” he repeats. “Right now, all I want is you.”

Oh my
. He kisses me again, this one just as forcefully and passionately as the last and his hand travels from my back down to my behind and back up again and I moan softly. He pulls away and takes a moment to study my eyes. I think he’s looking for a sign of protest from me but, I am putty in his hands right now.
Protest? Why the heck would I do that?
And before I know what’s happening, he bends and swoops me up into his arms and turns toward my bedroom.

My mind is reeling. Is this really happening? Am I really doing this? I have
never
done this before and I am terrified right now. Terrified and excited and … turned on. So incredibly turned on! Once we reach the bedroom, he releases me beside the bed, letting me slide down his body. I can feel his torso against my chest and I marvel at how hard his body feels against mine.

“I have wanted to do this since the day I met you,” he whispers, touching my face and trailing his fingers softly down my cheek. His hand continues down to my chest and he lightly runs an index finger down the front of my dress shirt, following the path of the buttons. My breath hitches and I can feel the blood pumping throughout my body. He softly kisses my lips as his fingers begin to unbutton my shirt from the bottom up. As they work, his soft, gentle kisses travel from my lips to the corner of my mouth, and then across my jaw, and on to my earlobe. He takes my earlobe into his mouth, sucking softly and eliciting a whimper from me. His hands slowly slide my open shirt off my shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor as his fingers softly run down the length of my arms.

Slowly, he trails a path of soft, wet kisses from my ear down my neck and I can feel his fingers travel down my stomach to the clasp of my pants. He deftly unhooks them and pulls down the zipper, pushing them gently over my hips and down my legs. As my pants fall to the floor, he looks up and gazes at me, and I watch as his eyes travel slowly and hungrily from my face down my body, to my legs and back again. And I am suddenly so grateful that I’m wearing pretty undergarments today. I am standing before him in just my matching gray lace panties and bra, and remarkably, I am not blushing. I don’t feel at all self-conscious or embarrassed. All I feel is a raging, overwhelming desire for this beautiful, sweet man. I have never wanted to give myself to someone before but, right now, that is all I want. And I want it so desperately.

“Oh, Samantha,” he whispers, “you are so lovely.” He reaches up and takes the pin from my hair and watches, seemingly mesmerized, as it cascades down around my shoulders. A sharp intake of breath is his only verbal response as he continues to gaze at me. Taking my hand, he steps back, allowing me to step out of my pants and shoes. When I step towards him he takes me into his arms, holding me closely and he kisses me deeply. His hands are on my back, gently roaming, exploring. One hand stops on my behind and he gently squeezes as he pushes me into him. I feel his erection straining against his pants, pushing into me.

With trembling fingers, I reach for the top button of his shirt and he watches me fervidly as I slowly start to undo them. His sculptured lips part in a small, sexy smile and he kisses me softly while I work on his shirt, his hands playing fluidly over my back. When his shirt is open, I place my hands flat on his broad chest and delight in the feel of him. He has a light dusting of hair on his pecs and I let my fingers slide through it. He shrugs out of his shirt, revealing the delectable hard body underneath and my mouth goes dry. He is so unbelievably beautiful. Just as I imagined he would be. And quite imposing in his tall, muscular frame. He has a lean, chiseled, athletic form and I am certain that he must work out on a regular basis in order to look this way. I’m momentarily lost gazing at him.

While I stand drooling, he continues to undress, taking off his watch and sitting it on my bedside table. He kicks off his shoes and socks, then pulls off his jeans and his briefs and his robust erection springs free, causing all the air in my lungs to evaporate.

Wow.

He stands gloriously naked before me and he is magnificent. His body looks as if it were etched in marble. Michelangelo’s David. A sculptor’s wet dream come true, and I wonder in that instant what it would feel like to paint him. To cover my hands in acrylic color and run them slowly over every inch of him as if he were my canvas.

He reaches for me, and his hands fist in my hair as he kisses me voraciously, our tongues writhing and dancing together lustfully.

“God, I want you so much, Samantha,” he whispers between kisses. His fingers find the clasp of my bra and unhook it; slowly pulling the straps from my shoulders, he discards it on the floor.

Taking one of my modest breasts in each hand, he squeezes firmly and groans in appreciation. “I knew your breasts would be perfect,” he mumbles. “Perfect size.” He lightly kisses my right breast. “Perfect shape.” He kisses my left breast. “Perfect nipples,” he says, wrapping his mouth around my nipple and suckling hungrily. Moaning loudly, my back arches involuntarily, pushing my breast further into his face as my fingers find their way into his wavy hair. His answering groan causes the muscles in my groin to clench deliciously.

He walks me backward toward the bed and pulls back the sheets and slowly lowers me onto it. I lie back onto my pillow and watch as he runs the tips of his fingers across the top of my lace panties. My eyes meet his as his fingers slip between my panties and my skin and he gently pulls them down over my hips and down my legs. He tosses them aside and, in one swift move, he is lying next to me and he traces my collarbone with his fingertips, lightly sliding them from there on a slow, meandering expedition south, over my breasts to my ribcage, past my waist and on to my stomach. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers almost reverently. As his hand reaches the manicured wisp of hair between my legs I squirm anxiously. He lowers his mouth to my stomach and lets his tongue play around the sensitive flesh of my bellybutton and I moan softly, pulling gently at his hair.