Chapter 20
LONDON
Hot water sprays over my face, and I choke on the sob that’s been clogging my throat since the second I crossed the threshold of the burned-out house, precious cargo in my arms.
Motionless and rigid precious cargo in my arms.
Eyes that will never open again.
Laughter that will never be heard again.
A life of potential, snuffed out in one careless act.
“Fuck!”
I knew this job came with its hard moments. I didn’t predict impossible ones.
“London?” Davies calls.
How could they do that?
How could you leave your kids anywhere near that shit? Filthy cowards.
Goddammit.
I slam my fists into the cubicle wall. The plastic shower stall rattles under the weight of my anger and the desperate need to rid myself of this feeling of utter hopelessness.
“Urgh! Fuck.”
“London, open up, come on.”
I stumble out of the spray and hit the wall, sliding down until my ass meets the shower floor.
My head drops to my hands as I scream through a sound that tugs at my very soul. Heat, snot, and sobs consume my face as choppy breaths that singe my chest barely register.
“Go away, Davey.”
“You sure?”
“Leave me alone!”
Flashes of my useless waste of space of a father and his seedy bad habits filter through the cracks the anger doesn’t fill.
That could have been me.
That could have been Mama.
He was—no, probably still is the same lowlife that thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to endanger your family. To neglect and inflict pain on the very people you’re supposed to love.
I scramble to my feet and pace the tight circle of the shower.
Into the water, out of the water.
Back into the heat as a fresh onslaught of tears swells and spills over.
A knock rattles the stall door.
“London, it’s Heidi. Open up, babe.”
Babe. Fuck, they all think I’ve lost it.
I still, my chin wobbling as my hands cramp to claws at my sides.
“Go. Away,” I gasp in ragged, staccato movements.
“Let me check you’re okay, then I’ll get out of your space.”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
“Out, all of you.” Miles’s voice echoes through the bathroom.
No . . .
“Sir,” Davey starts.
“Now, Davies.”
The door closes after footsteps fade. I turn off the water and attempt to dry off. Sliding my underwear on, I stand inches from the cubicle door. Lost to indecision between wanting to sink into Miles and the selfishness that will haunt me if I do.
“Let me in, beautiful,” he rasps.
“I can’t,” I sob.
“Yeah, you can, come on. Or I’m taking the door off the hinges.”
I lean on the wall and sob, my body trembling.
A groan slips under the door before he walks away.
Panic swells. He left so easily.
I pad back into the shower and sit in the corner, hugging my knees as I drop my head, hiding my face from the world.
It’s too much today. I doubt I’ll survive it.
Flashes of two children huddled behind their insufficient defense against the fire slip through my mind. A wail leaves my chest, ripping past my lips. The sound echoes, and I let it hit for a second time, shattering my heart.
The door jostles, the clink of tools on the other side telling me Miles is back. And when a large hand wraps around each end of the door, lifting it from the hinges effortlessly, my last breath falters.
The door to the bathroom is closed.
He sets the cubicle door down. Now in clean navies, he closes the space between us and kneels in front of me. His blue eyes study my face as his jaw feathers.
I scrunch my face up, tamping back the swell in my throat.
I hold my breath. Like that will save me.
“Give it to me, London. Lay it on me.”
I—
Sobs tumble out. Ugly, horrid sounds that won’t fucking stop.
He reaches for me, and I don’t move. I can’t. Every muscle is tight, aching, and unable to move.
He shifts to his seat and hauls me into his lap.
My hands curl around the neckline of his T-shirt.
I wail.
I scream.
Until my throat is screaming back, pain lining every sound leaving me.
When sound is no longer an option, I pound my fists into his chest.
“Why?” I say on a raspy whisper.
He shakes his head, tears lining his blues.
His jaw is so tense it looks set to implode.
“How could anyone do that to their babies? How!?”
His head dips, his eyes meeting my crazed gaze. “I don’t know. I have no idea what it takes to leave a chi—” He groans, a pained and ragged sound. “There’s no explanation that will ever be good enough.”
I tilt my head as my face breaks all over again.
He envelops me tight. Not letting go, even when the alarm rings out again.
Even when the space goes dark, and the sounds of our house’s bustling crew go silent.
Mama lies beside me.
I’m too old to need her close. But on this day, I’m too old not to.
The duvet rustles as I roll over and stare at the lit-up LED numbers on the alarm clock.
01:32
Fuck.
I can’t sleep.
I haven’t been able to close my eyes without seeing those kids since I left the station after our shift.
I need . . .
I’m out of bed and scribbling a note to Mama a heartbeat later. I pull on my jacket and grab up my keys, phone, and bag before heading out into the city that never sleeps.
Is it smart to walk alone in the middle of the night? Probably not. But it feels as if the worst thing has touched me and I’m still here . . .
What could be worse than that?
Twenty minutes later, I slide the spare key into the lock and turn it.
The snoozing pup on the sofa doesn’t even stir.
The corner of my mouth tugs up at the sight of her sweet face.
But hers isn’t the one I need right now.
Closing the door behind me, I flick the lock and place my bag on the counter as I pass it. Sliding my shoes off, I tug my jacket from my shoulders and lay it over the stool.
I’m peeling off each article of clothing as I pad for the bedroom door.
I’m done with the back-and-forth of this thing.
Done with the pretending at work.
Done with the denial.
I stop short of the threshold to find him sprawled over the bed, only a sheet covering the bottom half of his bare body.
I tug the braid from my hair and lose the last scrap of material on my body, my panties.
I’m done for.
Period.
Rounding the enormous king bed, I lift the sheet and slide into the soft space, moving until my body meets his warmth.
The moan that slips as he moves is a rumble I feel in the depths of my core.
He rolls over, his arm caging me in as he mumbles, “Hello, beautiful.”
I close my grip over his wrist, pulling him around me closer, tighter.
He sinks his head into my hair and groans.
“Can’t sleep?” he utters.
I shake my head.
The ache I rode out at the station rears its ugly head, and I have to breathe through the emotions wanting out.
“I can’t stop thinking about them,” I whisper.
“I know.”
I turn in his hold, adjusting my head on the pillow so I’m staring into big blues I’d let swallow me whole if they could. “How do you do it?”
His eyes shutter closed, and his breathing swells before crashing out.
Opening his eyes, he says, “It doesn’t get easier. You learn to cope better. You learn that while this world is full of terrible shit”—his hand lifts, his fingertip brushing my hair from my face—“it’s also home to some of the most incredible things you’ll ever find.”
I catch his hand as it falls and press my lips to his palm.
“Take my mind off it, please,” I beg.
“You sure, beautiful? I don’t want to do something you might come to regret when you’re not choosing from a good place.”
“I chose this long before now,” I say, sending my hand over his jaw and my fingers into his hair, dragging his mouth to my own.
“Fuck,” he moans before crashing his mouth against mine.
I’m weightless as he coaxes my mouth open. He’s moving, caging me in a second later. Hands palming his chest, I’m not close enough.
He breaks from the kiss, dusting hot wet nips over my neck and collarbone before his lips close over one hard nipple.
I writhe under him, a whining sound parting my mouth. His hand cups one breast as he suckles my other nipple before biting down.
Oh god.
I’m a throbbing, aching mess for him.
“Miles, please, I—”
“Shhh. You know how long I’ve had this gorgeous body in my face? How long it’s been making me second-guess everything? I’m taking my damn time.”
I groan in complaint, and he chuckles at me.
The fucker.
“Nothing feels like enough,” I rasp, wriggling underneath him.
His hard length presses into the center of my heat.
“It doesn’t, but this is going to play out slow and steady and controlled.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a control freak, Captain Hammond?” I smile up at him, and he narrows his eyes playfully.
“Controlled is safe. Controlled means you’re safe, beautiful.”
“You should use that line on Schmiddy.” I cackle.
His brows snap up toward his hairline. “We’re seriously talking about Schmiddy right now?”
My laughter fades.
No, no we’re not.
“No, never.”
“Good.” He bites down on the other nipple.
Punishment for another man’s name in his bed. For me not taking this seriously. Either would fit.
And the heat from his mouth over my skin sinks to my core, dousing the ember there in a fuel that sends the spark to a full-on bonfire.
“Ah, god. Miles.”
“Yeah, baby?” His head lifts, blue eyes darkened with desire burning into mine.
“More, please . . .”
He shuffles back on the bed, disappearing under the sheet as his broad shoulders wedge between my thighs.
Warm hands grip and spread my thighs, and I almost jolt off the bed when his tongue sweeps through my soaked center.
“God, Christ, fuck.” My hands curl around the sheet and tighten further with every lick, suckle, and nip he lays on my pussy.
Nobody has ever touched me like this. Not there, not ever.
The warmth disappears as Miles plants kisses between my thighs, pushing them wider before two fingers sink inside me.
“God above, that’s so good,” I whine.
It is good, but it’s still nowhere near enough.
“Mi—”
He suckles down on my clit, hard, pumping his fingers in and out as he curls them forward. Pleasure pools, tension building in every inch of me. I whimper, and he groans around my clit before flicking it with his tongue.
I shatter.
Into a thousand million pieces, more singular iterations of one person than should ever exist, as my hips leave the bed and my body chases the friction it needs, grinding over his mouth.
White-knuckling the bed, I whine, “Miles! Mi—oh . . . fuck.”
His tongue is still working me over when I come crashing back down. My fingers unfurl from the duvet and they blindly hunt for his face, eyes still unseeing from euphoria, and land in his hair.
With a playful tug, I have him crawling over me, his mouth sinking over mine.
I taste my release over his lips, on his tongue.
I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
His hard length presses against my center. I could so easily move my hips and he’d—
“How’s that head of yours, beautiful?”
“Better, thank you,” I whisper.
“Good, good girl.”
I moan at the phrase. Never pegged that particular combination of words to send me spiraling. But out of his mouth . . . they’re everything.
The overwhelming need to taste Miles has me wriggling on the bed, his body confining mine becoming too much to bear.
I push on his chest, and he pushes up, holding his weight higher. I wriggle back and sit up, leaning on the headboard. “Sit.”
He raises a brow.
“You want to rephrase that, baby?”
“Nope.”
He chuckles and falls back on his heels. His toned body, complete with enormous erection, is a beautiful sight to behold.
And he’s mine.
“What are you planning?” he rasps, his pants snapping out, too far too quickly.
I lean forward and move onto all fours, breasts swaying with the movement, hair cascading around my shoulders as I pin him with my gaze.
“Patience, sir.”