Chapter Sixty-Eight
Brock
I was going to be in a world of shit when Sawyer found out about me hooking up with Miranda.
Somehow, though, I couldn’t bring myself to give a single fuck about that.
I get that I had a reputation for being a little reckless or careless or even selfish and not a team player. But at the end of the day, I cared what Sawyer thought.
But about this one thing, this one woman, yeah, I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit if he was going to be pissed.
Because, whether it made much rational sense to me or not, whatever was going on with Miranda was different than anything else I’d ever known.
I couldn’t explain it.
Maybe if I was a man who never spent more than a night with a woman, I could blame the constant close proximity, the patterns we’d fallen into, playing house, and falling into traditional roles because of that, confusing ourselves with reality and fantasy.
But the fact of the matter was, I had spent many weeks with many different women. I knew what it was like to fall into patterns, to appear to be a couple.
That said, never before had it led to interest in having those things be true.
I was not a man who’d ever wanted to be in a couple with anyone.
Until Miranda.
There was no denying that was what I wanted, either.
Sure, for a while, I’d been able to say it was just physical, that we needed to get each other out of our systems.
But as time went on, it became more and more apparent that it wasn’t just that.
I just… liked her.
I appreciated her outer image, even admired the effortless way she wore that mask. But I liked the woman underneath even more. The one who liked trash TV and honey mustard on her fries and cursed and had a slight accent when she got a little frustrated over things.
I liked her drive and her confidence.
I liked her mind and her heart.
I just… liked her.
The more time I spent with her, the more that was true.
I mean, I swore I would never force myself to endure another night at the Falkes Benefit. But doing so with Miranda had been an entirely different experience.
And not just because of the sex. Though, yeah, that had been top-tier sex.
A part of me was worried about solving her case, about no longer having an excuse to be in her guest room.
Would she send me packing?
And why did the idea of that make me feel like someone had kicked all the air out of me?
I was more relieved than I should have been that the envelope had been an invitation from Bellamy.
Not only because it meant that Miranda was safe for the time being, but because it meant that we weren’t one step closer to figuring things out…
and ending my access to the woman I was starting to have a lot of feelings for.
“Yeah?” I asked, answering Tig as I moved onto the balcony.
“I’ve been doing some digging,” he told me, and I could hear him shuffling paperwork.
“On what?”
“The doorman,” he said.
“We cleared the doorman,” I reminded him. “And his wife,” I added.
We’d been thorough. Especially because the man could potentially have so much access to Miranda, given his position.
But we couldn’t find anything.
Frank was a beloved doorman for many years.
And his wife had been a homemaker until their kids were in middle school. At which time she started to work at a small bakery to fill her time.
Nothing at all to raise a red flag about.
“Yes. The wife and the doorman. And when that came up clean, we stopped digging.”
“What else is there to dig for?”
“The daughter,” Tig said, making me whip around to look through the glass at Miranda.
“Talk to me,” I demanded.
“The daughter, Taylor, worked for Miranda’s company for two years.”
“Worked. Past tense.”
“She was fired,” he said. “It doesn’t say in the notes for what, but I figure you can find out that information.”
“Why didn’t we notice this when we were going over employee records?”
“Because she’d gotten married, then divorced, but she kept her married name.”
“Send me what you have. I’ll ask Miranda what she knows.”
“Will do,” Tig said, ending the call.
“What’s going on?” Miranda asked as soon as I moved back into her place, turning to lock the sliding door before facing her.
“We have a potential lead,” I told her.
“A real lead? Or a suspicious envelope with a sweet invitation in it sort of lead?” she asked, waving toward the card on the table.
“A possible real lead,” I clarified. “About your doorman, actually.”
“I thought that was a dead-end.”
“It was. Until we figured out that his daughter had once worked for you. And she was fired.”
“Oh,” Miranda said, exhaling hard.
“Hey, let’s not, okay?” I said, reaching out to snag her chin, drawing it up until she was forced to face me.
“Let’s not what?” she asked.
“Think about it tonight,” I suggested. “Why ruin a good night with information that will be just as relevant in the morning as it is right now?”
“You know… I don’t hate that logic,” she admitted, giving me a soft smile.
“You know what sounds better than worrying about shit we don’t need to be worrying about?”
“What?” she asked, likely thinking I was about to suggest coffee or dessert.
“A nice soak in a hot tub,” I told her.
“You… you want to take a bath.”
“Not particularly, no. I want you to take a bath. And I want to be as close to you when you’re naked as possible,” I clarified.
I expected her to brush me off.
So I was surprised when she reached out to take my hand… then started to walk down the hallway toward her bedroom, through it, and into the bath.
“Turn on the water,” she demanded as she reached up to unclasp her earrings.
I didn’t even hesitate.
I stopped the tub and ran the water, even poured some of the bombs and salts that were lying around into it, then sat my ass down on the edge of it, watching as she moved toward me, then turned her back on me.
“Zipper,” she demanded, making me reach up to undo it. Did I go ahead and run my finger down her exposed spine? Yes, of course I did.
But then she was walking away from me.
And I got to watch as she slid the dress down, shimmying it over her hips, then down her thighs until it finally puddled around her feet.
Leaving her completely naked save for the band of her strapless bra.
Not for long, though, because her arms curled backward to unfasten the hooks, and soon that was on the ground as well.
It was then that I saw it.
The tattoo she’d alluded to once before.
On her ‘lower hip.’
It was her ass.
A cute little flower.
Likely something she got as soon as she was legal to do so, just so she could feel more like the adult she was.
All thoughts of the tattoo flew out of my mind right then, though.
Because she turned to face me in all her glorious nakedness.
“Fuck,” I hissed as she walked toward me slowly, letting me take in every curve before she stood before me.
“Beautiful,” I told her as my hands moved up her thighs, over her hips, then up the sides of her ribs as I got to my own feet.
But she wasn’t going to let me explore any more than that.
She planted a hand on my shoulder, then lifted a leg to climb into the tub.
I swear she got into the water in slow motion.
“Are you joining me?” she asked, snapping me out of my stupor.
I don’t think I’d ever fumbled as much removing my own clothing as I did right then, somehow managing to knot my bowtie tighter before getting it untied, struggling with my belt much the way she had hours earlier, and even missed one of my buttons, so when I yanked off my shirt, it popped off and went flying.
I felt like I couldn’t even think straight as she sat there, looking up at me with a face flushed from the hot water, her breasts exposed over the top of the water that was still filling the tub.
“Your watch,” she warned me as I went for my boxer briefs, the last thing between me and that water and her.
I pulled that off, placing it next to her earrings on the counter, then yanked off my boxer briefs, watching as her gaze slid down my body to land on my straining cock.
I wasn’t imagining the way her eyes went hooded while looking at it, either.
Moving forward, I watched as she scooted forward, a silent invitation to slide in behind her, which was exactly where I wanted to be.
The water was way too fucking hot, but at least the sensation of getting second-degree burns over every inch of my body made it easier to focus as I got into place, my legs wide to the side of the tub.
Reaching out, I pulled her back against my chest, her head resting on my shoulder.
As soon as she was in position, a soft sigh escaped her, like it had been an intolerable wait to get me close again.
Turning her head in a bit, she took a deep breath, breathing me in, as my hands went around her, just holding her around her midsection for a moment or two, just the two of us lost in the casual intimacy of a shared bath.
But things were still too new to be able to ignore the way our bodies seemed to ignite when they were close, when they were touching.
My hands slid up her belly to tease over the swells of her breasts, dragging a soft sigh out of her as her nipples started to pebble up at the whisper-soft brushes of my fingertips.
My thumbs and forefingers found her nipples, rolling them over and over as she started to arch into the sensation. Only then did I squeeze tighter. And tighter.
A little whimper escaped her as her hips writhed subconsciously, needing more.
But I wasn’t done exploring.
My hands squeezed her breasts, feeling the weight of them, the way they perfectly filled my hands. Overfilled, to be truthful.
“You feel so good,” I murmured, my nose teasing up the shell of her ear, and I didn’t miss the way her body shivered a bit at the words. “More?” I asked as my fingers slipped back to her nipples.
“Yes.”
My fingers rolled again, but increased pressure, making the blood rush to the tips, making the pleasure tiptoe the line of pain, something that had her fingernails digging into the skin on my knees as I continued to tease her.
“Brock,” she whimpered, getting desperate for more.