Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Marissa
“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Patrick paused, his hand on the passenger door’s handle. “I mean, I’m not complaining, because Ethan’s mom makes amazing pizza.” He cocked his head to one side. “But usually you’re not cool with me eating dinner at a friend’s house.”
That’s because I was big on family dinners. But tonight… “Yeah.” My smile wasn’t entirely forced as I made a shooing motion. “Go, have fun. Text me when you’re ready for me to pick you up.”
Eyes narrowing, my son slumped back against the seat. “ Mom . What’s going on?”
Was I that obvious? When he glared at me like this, I saw so much of myself in Patrick, and I thought about the conversation Simbel and I had had on Sunday, about what a cool young man my baby was becoming, and how he was full of so much potential. I was proud and heartbroken all at once.
The pride won out. He saw that there was something going on, and he pushed to find out what was wrong. So I straightened my shoulders, tightened my hands on the steering wheel, and blew out a breath.
“I have dinner plans tonight, so Ethan’s invite was handy.”
His dark brows shot up. “That’s cool. You never go out on weeknights. Who’s it with? Ms. Joleen?”
I hid my wince at having to confess, “It’s…I’m having dinner with Simbel.”
There was a pregnant pause, as Patrick figured out who I was talking about, and then—to my surprise—he let out a whoop and punched the air. “That’s awesome , Mom!”
Okaaaay . Not the response I was exactly expecting. “It is?”
He huffed and rolled his eyes. “Officer Simbel is a good guy. A cool guy. I mean, he’ll treat you right, is the point.” Suddenly, blue eyes met mine, and the serious look in them made me catch my breath, imagining what kind of man this son of mine would become. “You deserve that, Mom.”
Oh.
Oh my.
My eyes filling with tears, I groped for Patrick’s hand. “Thanks, honeybear. ”
He squeezed my fingers, then gently extracted himself and reached for the door again. “Have fun! Take your time! I brought my biology homework, so Ethan and I can do it together if you’re late.”
I watched him sling his backpack over his shoulder and hustle toward the house, and I wondered how I’d gotten so lucky.
In a kid, I mean.
But also, you know, in the whole holy shit a hot orc cop is interested in me .
Simbel met me in front of the new Asian fusion place, and when he offered his hand, I didn’t think anything of taking it and twining my fingers through his. His hand was so much bigger than mine— he was so much bigger—but not once had I felt unsafe in his presence.
In fact, Simbel made me feel protected. Special. Cherished . Maybe it was because I’d heard enough stories by this point—thanks to our late-night text and phone conversations—to know he’d really leaned into the whole Protect and Serve thing. Or maybe…maybe it was something else.
Maybe it was the way he made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Maybe it was the way he made me laugh, and—more importantly—laughed at my jokes, which made me really feel like he valued my contributions.
Or maybe—and this wasn’t too big of a maybe —it was because of the way I responded to him.
It was becoming a bit ridiculous, actually .
All he’d have to do is lean close, allowing me to get a whiff of his musk, and my insides would go all gooey. When he grinned and winked knowingly, making me wonder if he somehow knew, I felt liquid heat pool between my thighs.
I wanted him.
I was a grown-ass woman, and I had a crush on my coworker, a cop . He made me feel like a young woman again, flirting and laughing and actually putting some thought into my appearance. It was silly. It was wonderful.
How long had it been since I’d felt this way? Well, at least since I was that “young woman,” realizing David was interested in me. We’d been too young, too stupid, to really think about the future, and when I’d become pregnant, he’d noped out of there pretty quickly. Last I heard from social media, he was living his best life out in Vegas, and I—and Patrick—were better off without him.
But Simbel?
Simbel wasn’t like that. He’d had a chance with the hot teacher , and had confided in me that he thought Kelly was immature. He’d turned her down in favor of me.
He was interested in me , not just the idea of me. He was attentive and sweet in a way no other guy had ever been. In the way I wanted to raise Patrick to be.
I wondered what kind of lover he’d be.
It’s a good thing he can’t tell how horny you are .
Except…there were times—like now, for instance—when I would see Simbel’s nostrils flare, see that flash of green in his eyes, and wonder if there was somehow he could guess how I was feeling.
When the sushi arrived, he teased me over not eating with chopsticks, which resulted in him trying to teach me. About ten minutes of laughter later—and two dropped sushi pieces—Simbel moved around to my side of the table, wrapped his large hand around mine, and tried to physically show me how to hold the little sticks.
Every bit of my attention went right out the window as I leaned into his hold, inhaling deeply, allowing his heat to warm me in all the best ways.
Was it my imagination, or did his chin dip toward my neck, as if tempted? Was that a little groan I heard, or had I just wished it to be true?
The server showed up with our Peking duck then, and we both hurried to straighten.
The meal was delicious. The company, even more so.
When I was with Simbel, I laughed more. I cared more. I liked the person I was when I was with him, and I liked the way he seemed to genuinely care about my company too. As if I was making his life better somehow.
We talked about all sorts of things; local politics to history to his job in the city to my favorite books. I gushed more about my son, and he shared how his relationship with his brother had changed in the last few months.
That really hurt my heart, to hear his worry about Memnon’s mental state since the injury, and I did my best to help him brainstorm ways to pull his brother out of his funk. By the time the duck was gone, we were laughing again at our increasingly ridiculous plans.
We lingered over the meal for longer than we should have, but it was still over far too soon. When I offered to split the bill, Simbel smiled at me.
“I’m not diminishing your equality or ability to provide for me, Rissa, but this date was my idea, so please let me pay?”
Flushing with pleasure, I ducked my chin and smiled. He hadn’t demanded, he hadn’t insisted, he hadn’t cajoled. He’d asked, and his reasoning was sound. I was happy to let him pay.
It wasn’t until we were in the parking lot that I realized the date was finally coming to an end. Probably a good thing, since it’d been dark for a while, and Patrick and Ethan had likely finished their homework long ago and were now violating the no-video-games-during-the-week rule.
I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was having too much fun.
When we reached my car, Simbel squeezed my hand. I glanced up at him as he shifted to stand in front of me. “I had a great time tonight, Rissa.”
He was staring at my lips. “I did too,” I whispered, staring right back.
“When can I—I mean, would you like to go out again?”
Part of me said I should play it coy and text him later to make plans. But…I didn’t want to play coy. I liked him, and I wanted him to know it. If that made me look desperate, then so be it.
Briefly, I wondered what Kelly—confident, beautiful Kelly—would do in a situation like this, and that gave me an idea.
“Are you going to the school oyster roast this weekend?” My attention was still on his lips. “I bought tickets, since they’re supporting the booster club, and you can use one.”
His tongue flicked out to brush against his tusk, and I swayed toward him, suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to taste him.
“I…I’ve never been to an oyster roast,” he admitted.
“The school’s is small compared to the town Oyster Festival in a few weeks. They go all out to celebrate the end of oyster season; live bands, bonfire, everything. But Mr. Arbate always supplies a dozen bushels for the school, and they’re yummy.”
He was nodding along, but I wondered if he was listening. Well, that was fair; I wasn’t paying attention to what I was saying. Instead, I realized I’d pushed myself up on my toes, reaching, reaching…
“I’d like that,” he murmured, tipping his head closer. “Sounds like fun.”
“Good. I’ll bring an oyster knife you can use—it was my dad’s, so it should fit your hands. I don’t know what to do about a glove for you.” Yep, definitely babbling. “Maybe we can rush ship one by this weekend. ”
“That used to be my nickname in the academy,” he murmured.
It was such a ridiculous thing to say, I smiled. I was still smiling when his lips claimed mine, and I surged upward, wrapping my arms around his neck to lock him to me.
I knew kissing wasn’t an orcish tradition, but Simbel had clearly had plenty of experience in the last decade. I wasn’t jealous; whatever he’d done, I got to be the lucky beneficiary, because he did everything right.
His tongue was wide and ridged, and it met and teased mine, his lips caressing, his teeth tugging on my lower lip. I moaned against his mouth and felt his grin as his arms wrapped around my back.
He pulled me against him, and my breath caught at the feel of his hardness— all of his hardness—plastered against my front. Or maybe I just couldn’t breathe because of how remarkable the entire experience was…
There was a part of me, the part of me that knew I had to watch myself, which was clutching its pearls and gasping, You’re in public, you have to set a good example ! But the rest of me was yelling, Who the fuck cares? This is more fun than anything you’ve done in the last two decades !
Guess which side won?
I wriggled my hips against him, even as his lips moved to my jaw. With a moan, I dropped my head back, inviting him to taste my throat, and when he did, I shuddered with desire.
Maybe that last move was a bad idea because Simbel suddenly pulled back .
He pressed his forehead to mine and froze, holding me off the ground, his breathing ragged and harsh in the spring night.
“Simbel?” I whispered, uncertain what was happening.
“Gods of the ancestors, Rissa.” His rasp was fierce. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” I pulled back, trying to see his face. “I’m not.”
That’s when he opened his eyes. And in the darkness, his eyes were glowing green. “You don’t deserve to be pawed like this by a male who can’t control himself. Please…” He set me down and stepped back, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Please don’t let this ruin the evening. The date.”
Ruin it? I had to put my hand on my sedan to keep from falling over. This kiss had made the night. “It didn’t,” I whispered. “Simbel, that was…” I swallowed. He’d been the one to pull back. Maybe he hadn’t liked the experience. “Thank you for a lovely dinner. And…everything.”
He nodded once, jerkily, then stepped back again. I couldn’t tell if he was running away or afraid I was going to jump him, or what.
“Rissa, I…” His hand rose to rest against his chest. Except it looked as if his fingers were trying to dig into the button-down shirt he wore, as if he were trying to scratch his heart. “Thank you. I’ll see you at work.”
And he turned and stalked into the darkness.
I would’ve been hurt. I would’ve felt abandoned.
Had I not seen the thick bulge in the front of his trousers. Simbel wanted me as much as I wanted him.
The realization was…intriguing.