Chapter Twenty-one
Nine hours and one shift at the café later, Drea entered Second Circle.
Loud music was playing as always. Eric was tattooing the side of a young woman’s finger while her friends looked on taking photograph after photograph.
Trent’s client was getting a lion tattooed on his shin.
Drea cringed at the thought of needles so close to bone.
She was no closer to wanting a tattoo, despite her attraction to a hot and sexy tattoo artist.
“Here to try out my station, Shortcake?” Cujo asked.
Drea squealed, jumping in surprise at the sound of his voice in her ear. “Christ. Give a girl a heart attack, why don’t you?”
He picked her up in his arms and dropped her down in the black leather chair near the front window of the studio.
“No.” Drea giggled and tried to stand, but he rested his hands on the arms of the chair blocking her way.
“I promise I won’t get my equipment out and turn it on,” he said salaciously, winking at her. “Although I know exactly what I’d do if you’d let me.”
“Are we still talking tattoos?” she asked, reclining in the chair.
Cujo’s eyes wandered lazily down her body and back up. “Can’t remember.” He laughed.
“This isn’t Amsterdam,” Pixie shouted. “No sex in the studio window.”
Cujo stood up and offered his hand to help her up. “You looked good there, babe,” he said, tilting his head back toward the chair.
“I’m not sure I’m ever going to do anything other than sit in it,” she replied. “Although the way you bake so much meaning into your art is really clever. I love my slot machine.”
“Yeah, well, I think I’m going to add a couple more to this arm, inspired by you and us,” he replied.
“What made you put it here?” she asked, rubbing her hand up his bicep.
“I never wanted a relationship, but before the cancer, I’d made a decision to never ink this arm randomly. It leads from my wedding ring finger to my heart, and the only person who deserved to be on it was … well, you.”
“Cujo.” It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard. “Oh, I love you.” Drea threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled him toward her. The sweep of his tongue along hers did her in. Saying the words didn’t feel as strange as she’d thought it would.
“Jeez, are you two just going to make out on every available surface?” Trent commented on his way past with a handful of paperwork. “You’re over thirty now dude, rein it the fuck in.”
“Says the guy who banged his fiancé on the sofa in the office.” Cujo laughed as he pulled away from her. “I love you, too, Shortcake,” he whispered against her lips.
They said their good-byes and drove the short distance to Evelyn’s condo.
Drea took in the nondescript, drab gray building. Living in a condo just like this was in her future, and the thought was depressing.
Drea grabbed the large purse she’d brought to carry the laptop out in. They got out of the car and walked to the entrance.
“You okay there, Shortcake?”
The truth was, she wasn’t. Something had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on edge. She looked up and down the street, finding nothing out of place, nobody out of the ordinary. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little freaked out by all this.”
Alessandro, Evelyn’s friend, met them in the lobby and gave them the key. She told them to keep it and give it to Lynn for her to use for as long as she needed it.
They took the elevator to the required floor where the doors opened onto a long corridor. It only took a few moments to find the apartment, and Cujo unlocked the door.
The rooms were sparsely furnished, but clean and tidy. It hardly looked lived in. There was a gray sweater tossed over the chair arm, and a pair of red ballet flats on the floor next to the sofa, but those were the only signs somebody had been there.
Cujo closed the door behind them.
Spotting the hall closet, Drea tugged on Cujo’s hand. “Over here.”
She pulled the door open and cleared the boots and shoes that covered the fake flooring. Cujo removed the panel, and sure enough, they found the security box that was thankfully still locked.
The floor creaked in the hallway outside and both of them stilled. A small gap at the bottom of the door revealed dark shadows filtering the light from the hallway. Cujo put his finger over his mouth.
Drea’s heart pounded, her mouth suddenly dry. They sat like statues until the footsteps moved away.
Cujo entered the code, quickly. Drea cringed at the loud beeps that sounded every time a number was pressed. The box opened and the laptop was still there, along with a bunch of papers.
Once the safe was empty, they loaded everything into Drea’s purse. “Let’s go,” she mouthed to Cujo.
“Wait one minute.” Cujo disappeared, but returned a few moments later with a small bag that presumably belonged to his mother. She noticed toiletries and clothes crammed in haphazardly. Evelyn would be grateful to have some of her own things.
Cujo handed her the bag. “It’s better I have my hands free,” he whispered. “Just in case.” In case he needed to fight. The idea sickened her.
Cautiously, they left the apartment. Cujo went first, checking left and right before he waved Drea out behind him. They hurried to the elevator, waiting impatiently for it to reach their floor.
It arrived and they stepped inside. A feeling of relief washed over her. They were nearly home free. The doors started to close slowly, which gave them just enough time to see a tall figure step out of the stairwell at the opposite end of the hall.
* * *
Cujo walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth and found Drea combing out her hair. It was late, and they both needed sleep, but all the adrenaline charging through his system wasn’t going to let that happen.
She was perfectly naked, and absolutely clueless to the way she took his breath away. He grabbed his toothbrush, applied toothpaste, and started to brush.
What a fucked-up evening they’d had. Once they’d left the building, he’d driven around for an hour out of concern they were being followed.
It had been too late to head to the hospital.
Visiting hours had long since been over.
In a fit of paranoia, he’d hidden the laptop and files in various places around the house.
He looked over at Drea again and this time she caught his eye and smiled. It was a smile of invitation, and by the way his cock was responding, he was going to accept. Maybe if he focused on her instead of on the mess they were in, he’d feel much better.
Cujo rinsed his mouth and put his toothbrush back in the holder. He moved behind her and slid his hands up over her ribs until they cupped both of her breasts. Drea’s head fell back against his chest.
“You are in my way,” she said, breathlessly.
He nudged the hair away from her neck, and kissed her shoulder. Drea groaned and arched against him. He kneaded her breasts gently, his thumbs scraping across her nipples.
“Well, don’t let me stop you.” He turned her so they faced each other and his hands gripped her butt, because, well, it was a mighty fine ass.
He kissed her like the sun rising depended on it. In some ways it did. Loving her was as necessary as sunlight, and equally brilliant.
Her pulse raced beneath his lips and he savored the way her skin tasted as he buried his face in her neck to suck on the skin beneath her ear.
Thank God she wasn’t wearing underwear. The glide of her leg over his, the soft skin of her inner thigh brushing his hip sent blood rushing to his cock. This was what he needed to chase the chills away.
He lifted her and she tightened her legs around his waist. One day he was going to take her bending over the sink, but tonight he wanted her in bed.
As he placed her down on the bed, he licked a wide circle around her nipple.
He joined her, lying down on top of her while keeping the majority of his weight off her.
Drea groaned, the sound of it sending fireworks through his spine.
Her wetness seeped through his underwear as she rubbed against him. Hottest fucking thing ever.
“Are you going to let me make love to you, Shortcake?”
Instead of waiting for an answer, he slid his fingers between them.
“Brody.” Her quiet cry of need was all it took for his control to slip. Fuck. She was so deliciously wet. He groaned as he pushed a finger inside her, then two, scissoring them back and forth in a way he knew drove her crazy.
Her mouth covered his hungrily and he let her set the pace, and by the way she grabbed his hair and ground against his fingers, was going to be a damn sight closer to fucking then making love.
It was pure heaven the way her body responded to him. Her hips lifted, desperate to relieve the pressure. He withdrew his fingers.
“Drea, baby?”
Drea slowly opened her eyes. “Mmm-hmm,”
He slid his fingers into his mouth and sucked off her juices. “I could taste you all fucking day.”
Desperate to be inside her, to remove them from the madness for a little while, he pulled off his underwear and put on a condom.
He needed her. Needed reassurance everything was okay between them. That they were still strong, despite what was going on around them. Cujo lay back beside her.
The bed creaked, and Drea covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a giggle. “You’re making the bed squeak,” she whispered.
“I don’t give a fuck,” he groaned, sliding into her.
Drea gasped as he stretched her, his cock finding home in one long stroke. Cujo’s hand slid around the back of her neck, holding her firmly as he kissed her. He gripped her thigh, and pulled it higher over his hip.
Cujo slid out slowly, all the way until just the tip of him rested inside her.
“I love you like this, Drea.” He pushed back inside her, savored the way she undulated against him, her hips rolling back and forth. Keep that up and this’ll be over before it starts.
“Brody,” she sighed.
“Christ, I fucking love you, Shortcake,” Cujo huffed as he pushed into her faster. Harder.