Chapter 16 It’s Getting Worse #3
"I apologize. I'm not trying to tell you what to do.
I'm simply trying to get you out of a dark alley, alone, that has seen its share of crime and has no cameras despite multiple attempts to have the owner get them installed.
" His voice had gentled and his posture, while still strongly alert, had relaxed by a degree.
"Sorry, I just needed air. I should probably get home actually. This is late for me," she tried to laugh but it got stuck in her throat.
"I'll walk you home," he said as she was about to walk into the doorway he was holding open. She paused in the doorway where his body stood.
"I'm fine."
"Eloise," he said in warning. His voice was low and vibrated through the space that seemed much smaller suddenly than it had looked.
His chest was close to hers. His heat was a flowing energy she felt lapping against her skin and her senses, and more than calming there was something far more potent.
She paused and looked up at him. "You have a date. Wouldn't want her abandoned."
She watched the battle in his eyes but as he was about to say something she brushed past him, closing her eyes against the soft touch of his hand brushing against the warm skin of her exposed back, the smell of him washing over her.
She tried to shrug it off as she made her way to her friends without pause and without sparing him a glance.
She knew without looking that he was watching her.
She could feel it, smell it in the unique essence that lingered around her shoulders and down her arms. She felt dressed in him, his protectiveness, and wanted to scream at her warring desires to go back and curl into him, but also wanting to keep him at a safe distance.
She found the girls dancing, drinks in their hands held high, smiling and sweating and enjoying being together and alive.
She leaned into Jen when she bent her head down to her mouth and told her she was going to head home and not to worry, because Jen gave her that look. With convincing words and a noncommittal nod when Jen asked her to promise to get a cab, she left them to dance.
But really, she wanted to walk in the sliver of moonlight like she was now, with her high heels cradled in the crook of her arm and her long hair, less bouncy than when they arrived, slightly damp at her temples, the ends brushing across her bare back.
She drank in the cool air, letting its freshness saturate her lungs.
"What the hell are you doing?"
She whipped around, mouth open and hand to her chest at the deep voice.
"You should not sneak up on people! You're a police officer. That has got to be in policing 101."
He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head. "We actually spend a good amount of time learning how to sneak up on people. Why, do you have a weapon on you?"
"Maybe," she tilted her chin up defiantly.
His unsure look made her want to smile. "I actually do feel compelled to confirm that you do not have a weapon."
She rolled her eyes. "No. Other than my mind and wit which are razor sharp."
His lips pulled up on one side, the smirk pulling up one side of her heart. Why couldn't her stubborn heart listen?
"Why are you walking alone at night when there could very possibly be a man out here waiting for this kind of opportunity?"
And it hit her. He was right. She had been focused on escaping the emotions roiling through her from seeing Taylor.
"You," she said, stepping forward with the audacity of a black cat, poking him in the chest. "You are the reason I forgot that danger could be lurking for me out here.
" She poked him again and he stood his ground as he looked down to where her finger was pressing into his chest. "You show up here with a nonchalant date and a nonchalant woman who, by the way, looks like she could star in a Jane Austen movie. "
He looked back at her, confusion on his face. "Is that a good thing?"
"It is a very good thing! She's absolutely lovely! And you're kind and interesting and actually funny, where most guys are moderately funny and we mostly laugh out of trained obligation or insecurity." Her finger then poked his belly, which was frustratingly taut, "You actually make me laugh."
His large hand caught her finger. "Would you stop poking me? And you're yelling nice things with an angry voice and it's very confusing," he said back, his own voice rising.
She scrunched up her nose, pulling her finger from his warm grasp and poked him one more time in the middle of his chest and glared at him.
A dare.
His eyes were bright pools, and she wondered how deep they were because as they were locked in a staring contest she feared she might drown.
"She is lovely but she is also nothing to me," he said, his voice gentled as his eyes roved her face.
"That's a horrible thing to say," she replied.
He took a step toward her and her hand dropped as she took one step back. Her heart was knocking against her ribs like a minuet, starting to triple its beat.
"Ask me why she's nothing to me," he said, his voice coming out softer, brushing against her and urging that minuet beat of her heart to pick up.
"Why?"
"Ask me," he repeated as he took another step and then another until she had to lift her chin to look up at him, her chest only inches from his.
She licked her lips and his eyes dipped to watch the action causing her breath to shutter out between her parted lips.
She was hot again, and she might have feared another hot flash incident if she weren't so engrossed in this man's blue eyes looking at her like she was this wild and beautiful creature he was trying to fathom.
"Why?" she finally asked, the word barely coming out as a solid word.
"Because I don't see anyone else. I hadn't seen anyone in too long, until you. From the moment you sat at my table at The Black Cat, I had no choice but to be captivated by you."
She swallowed thickly as his hand wrapped around the nape of her neck, the touch searing and somehow soothing.
Its intimacy sending sensation throughout her entire body.
"You come into town, this little force of wildness and frankly, a disturbing amount of emotional stability," the right side of his mouth pulled up as he shook his head.
"You are odd and interesting and beautiful.
And all I want is," he stopped, shaking his head again as his gold eyebrows pulled together.
"What?"
"You have to know."
"I try not to make assumptions," she whispered back.
He smiled wider, that dimple coming out. "Wise. But let me show you." And before she could react, he was pulling her up into him, a hand at her neck and the other on her hip as his mouth descended on hers, taking without pause and without agonizing question.
She melted. She was made of snow, and he scooped her up into his warm palms so that he could experience her.
Her mouth opened to his gentle prodding; it was slow and delicious and it was like sweet oranges and perfectly roasted marshmallows.
She stepped into him, her body fitting against his flawlessly and the answering gruff sound at the back of his throat and his pause made her pause.
A second ticked by.
Then another.
And then he crushed his mouth to hers in a taking that was on the other side of gentle. It was raw and earthy, primitive. The notes of smoked hickory took over, rolling around with sweet marshmallow and she hummed. He answered.
They were a bonfire, everywhere they touched scorched.
He maneuvered them and she followed, letting him pick her up in a flowing move, two dancers under the old antique street lamp until she felt something solid against her back. He pinned her, the feeling of her softness being molded between two strong forces pulling the smallest moan from her throat.
He answered.
It was like learning a new language without words and without trepidation or concern.
And when finally, after time she couldn't have kept if her life required it, he pulled back, they looked at each other in the kind of awe that is born from something bigger than this world.
She didn't think of his curse as he looked at her and she would think later that evening that for the first time his eyes didn't hold thoughts of the curse either.
They spoke of things with their eyes and their uneven breaths what they couldn't say with words. The moon and stars had pulled back the blackness of the sky to shine a little brighter for their starcrossed moment in time.
For it was starcrossed; a burning sparkle that could only last for a moment.
He walked her home, holding her hand in his, neither of them saying anything because they had said enough.
And when she went to open the front door, he pulled her back into him like an old romantic movie, kissing her again.
She felt like they were saturated in black and white and almost kicked up a foot at the loveliness.
When she pulled back from their kiss for the second time that night he was staring at her in disbelief.
And she wondered if he regretted it.
And she hoped that he didn't.
And when he kissed her forehead in the most gentle of touches she knew he wanted to say he was sorry.
The sadness of that settled inside of her like a butterfly sinking with wet-dappled wings.
She let herself inside of the great big house, where Casper was laying on the couch with Ursula as she read a book with her ghost mug of tea.
She didn't tell her of her movie kisses; for now, she would keep them for herself.
So she joined her on the couch with sleepytime tea, her silky peach pajamas and face scrubbed of the night.
"Did you have fun?"
She looked at her dear friend as she pet the grey wolfhound and smiled. "Thank you for inviting me into this little world."
"Always. Thank you for coming."