Chapter 21 Dominique #3
I drew him back into my space and captured his mouth, kissing him and savoring the sweetness of his scotch-laced lips. It was too easy. This. Kobe. Could I let go of the past? Let go of promises I should never have made to a woman who was never coming back?
Maybe I didn’t have to suffer anymore.
Maybe I could forgive and forget and look forward instead of backward, stop the self-flagellation that had consumed my life lately.
The kiss ended naturally, both of us breathless and panting.
“I still don’t know what a princess pancake is,” Kobe said, and I chuckled—they came easier and easier.
“You’ll find out.”
“I can’t wait.”
It was too early for bed, as much as I would have loved to make every excuse under the sun to drag Kobe upstairs and explore beyond the boundaries we’d erected the previous night. I had yet to get him fully naked and yearned for the press of his body against mine.
“Would you like to watch a movie?” I asked instead, needing more time to process.
“Sure. I hear Jim Carrey movies are your favorite. Might I suggest The Mask? Dumb and Dumber? Ace Ventura?”
“Kobe Haven, if you subject me to any of those movies—”
“I’m kidding. Liar Liar?”
“How about Die Hard? It’s almost Christmas after all.”
He made a wounded sound, clutching his chest. “Oh god, you’re not one of those people who think Die Hard is a Christmas movie, are you?”
“Yes, and I will die on that hill.”
It seemed to take effort, but he held his hands up in supplication. “Fine. Die Hard it is.” As he sauntered to the couch, he coughed into his fist, “But it’s not a Christmas movie.”
“I don’t think this relationship is working,” I said, landing on the couch beside him. “We may have found our breaking point.”
Kobe offered a cheeky grin as he helped himself to the remote on the coffee table. “Admit it. I charm you.”
More than I ever expected, I mused.
Kobe found Die Hard on one of the subscription services I poured way too much money into and hit Play. Despite loving the movie, I found myself less interested in the action on screen and more interested in the man beside me.
Halfway through the flick, Kobe hit Pause and shifted to face me. “I must be super fascinating. You haven’t stopped staring for almost an hour. Need I remind you that this movie was your suggestion?”
Embarrassed, I glanced into my empty tumbler, then to the still-framed picture on the TV screen. “You’re like a lottery scratch ticket, Kobe Haven.”
“I’m what?” He laughed. “Um, most scratch tickets are losers, Doc. What are you trying to say?”
I snorted unexpectedly and slapped a hand over my mouth. “Oh god. That’s not what I meant. It’s… a terrible analogy. Forget I said anything.”
“No, no. You have to explain yourself now. How am I a lottery ticket? I’ll be honest, I’ve dated a few guys, and I’ve been called a lot of things—not all positive—but no one has ever compared me to a scratch ticket. I’m baffled and mildly intrigued.”
I groaned and considered how to explain. “It’s stupid.”
“Try me.”
“Every time we’re together, I uncover new parts of Kobe Haven I didn’t know existed.
You’re multifaceted, and that’s a compliment.
You’re a talented detective, a charismatic dinner date who has questionable adventures in Mexico, and a bad relationship with tequila.
You’re an old soul who croons to jazz. You’re shy and uncertain at times, then confident and verbose at others.
You play dolls with toddlers you barely know.
You foster boys with rough lives. You coach baseball and go camping in the wilderness.
Your heart is enormous, Kobe, and yet I get the sense your childhood was quite damaging and left you scarred.
You’re constantly in motion, adapting to your surroundings without missing a beat.
Every time we’re together, I scratch a bit more and uncover new layers of Kobe Haven I didn’t know existed. ”
It was the stupidest analogy on the planet, and I had no idea why I’d called him a lottery ticket, but for all the shit I’d endured, Kobe’s sudden appearance in my life seemed fortuitous.
If he wasn’t who he was—a man of strong opinions who wasn’t afraid to voice them—I would never have entertained more.
My compliments didn’t seem to land as I intended. The longer I spoke, the more subdued Kobe became. His easy smile melted into a frown.
“I’ve said something wrong.”
“No.”
He slumped on the couch, sliding his ass to the edge and kicking his sock-covered feet onto the coffee table.
The glum expression remained. This was the injured, younger version of Kobe I’d seen on occasion.
The dejected sixteen-year-old boy who never had anyone to guide him into adulthood.
The mature detective was nowhere to be found.
“I’m not half as amazing as you make me out to be.”
I shifted to face him, resting one arm on the back of the couch and running my fingers through his hair. “Isn’t that my prerogative?”
“I guess. I’ve been trying hard to win you over.
I’ve had a major crush on you since the first time I saw you, but I was sure you were out of my league.
My life feels like a constant battle of trying to fit a mold.
Be someone I’m not to ensure I don’t upset people or cause waves.
Please don’t get your hopes up when it comes to me.
I fuck up more than I get things right. Most people who know me well enough don’t like me. ”
“No one’s perfect, Kobe. Least of all me. If it means anything, I like who I see. Every part of you intrigues me. I haven’t been happy in a long time, but… You give me hope that I can be again.”
I continued to play with his hair as he peered up from his slumped position on the couch with an assessing expression that made me wonder if he was deciding if I meant what I said. Eventually, he aimed the controller at the TV and restarted the movie.
Neither of us paid it much attention. At one point, Kobe shifted upright and leaned against my side, one hand resting on my thigh.
As I continued to run my fingers through his hair, he stroked his thumb along my leg.
It was a small connection, but I got the sense Kobe took as much comfort in it as I did.
As the credits rolled, I spoke for the first time since he’d paused the movie over an hour ago. “I made a phone call today.”
His brows knit. “Oh?”
I motioned to a hallway that led to a home office. “I’ve got something for you.”
We stood and stretched before Kobe followed me to another part of the house.
I had a brief moment of panic, worried that I’d left pictures of Angelique lying about.
When or if I shared about Angelique, it would be on my terms, not because Kobe discovered a photograph and plunged us into conversations I wasn’t ready for.
Quickly scanning the office, I sighed with relief and invited him in. From the printer tray, I removed three pages and offered them to Kobe.
“What’s this?” he asked, scanning the documents with a frown.
“Your fiber analysis.”
“No shit.” Kobe leaned against the desk, shrewdly scanning the forms. “You didn’t have to do this. I could have waited until Monday.”
“It sounded important. I checked my notes and confirmed that fibers were collected from all three victims. The notation wasn’t included in the preliminary reports I sent you for Jesse or Ford, but they would have been added in a final report once I had all the data.
Regardless, I called the lab and got what I could. ”
Kobe’s brows creased as he took in the printed pages. “It’s silk. Natural in origin… fibroin and sericin with high crystalline content and an aligned fiber axis… I don’t understand any of this. There’s a color code. Can you look it up?”
“It’s a shade of red, closely resembling scarlet.”
Kobe contemplated, peering into the middle distance. “They were strangled with an article of clothing of some kind. Not a rope. I wonder…” He didn’t finish his thought.
“Does that information help?” I had examined the results earlier and couldn’t determine how Kobe might use the data to locate a killer, but maybe he knew something I didn’t.
“I have a thought, but…” Again, he stalled.
“Silk is commonly used in clothing. It doesn’t narrow it down much.”
“No. I know, but…” His forehead rippled as he continued to stare into space.
Kobe seemed to be seeing something inside his head he wasn’t sharing. I wanted him to talk it out, discuss his theories.
In the end, he tossed the pages onto the desk. “Forget it. I’m doing it again. I need to leave work at work.”
“I don’t mind. What are you thinking?”
Kobe shoved away from the desk and fisted the front of my shirt, dragging me into his space with a yank. I stumbled and we bumped chests. Kobe’s demeanor once again shifted. The focused detective I’d briefly witnessed was replaced with an entirely different energy.
“I don’t want to talk about dead bodies and theories and all the fucking pieces of this case that don’t fit together. I want to kiss you and touch you and take you to bed, Dominique. If you don’t want that, speak up.”