Chapter Sixteen
Lila
Dan shuddered in my arms, pumping once more deep and hard into me, a guttural groan vibrating from his chest. I held him close, stroking his nape and shoulders. With my face pressed to his throat, pleasure still thrumming through me, I breathed him in.
He was right – missionary wasn’t the easiest position for me to climax, but he always took care of me, made sure I came before he did.
And I liked being engulfed by him like this.
Surrounded. Sheltered. Cared for.
My eyes prickled, and I squeezed them shut.
His deep sigh ruffled through my hair. Braced on his elbows, he pressed his cheek to mine, a hint of stubble a pleasant roughness on my skin.
Even with my lids tightly closed, tears trickled free, down the sides of my face. On one side, the wetness never reached my ear.
He stiffened, and my eyes flew open. He reared back in a push up, biceps flexed. “Did I hurt you?”
Horror twisted his face.
“What?” I blinked and brushed at the stupid tears that wouldn’t stop. “No. I think it’s stress. Or like stress relief.”
“You’re sure.” On his knees now between my open thighs, he cupped my face, eyes running over me.
My whole body melted, like marshmallow goo. “I’m sure. Come here.”
I pulled him back down and wrapped myself around him. He nuzzled into my neck, a low chuckle buzzing over my ear. “You know you gotta pee so you don’t get a UTI.”
Levered up on both elbows, I scowled. “You really know how to ruin the post-orgasm cuddle.”
“Go.” He shifted to the side and landed a light pop on my hip. “Don’t want you sick and hurting.”
Pursing my lips, I rolled off the bed, aware of his gaze as I strolled into the bathroom. There, I dutifully peed, then pulled out two washcloths. I cleaned up, ran the second cloth under warm water and took it back to the bedroom. He reached for it.
“Uh-uh.” I held it out of his reach and crawled onto the bed. “Let me.”
An arm folded behind his head, he lay back on the pillow, eyes falling closed while I smoothed the cloth over his groin, dampening the dark hair there and cleaning his dick and balls. His thigh muscles tightened, and his dick twitched a couple of times, stirring so he was half-hard.
With a mischievous kiss below his navel, the scent of us together lingering on his skin, I crawled backward off the bed and went to toss the rag in the hamper.
On my return, I flung myself into his arms, smiling at his muffled grunt.
He wrapped a hard embrace around me, and I pressed my lips over his heart, inhaling my scent on his skin, his scent on mine.
I loved that.
I’d never wanted this with anyone else. I’d wanted condoms, control over the positions, and a shower right after.
My breathing hitched, heart skittering. He was different, the way I felt was different, and that had to be significant.
I need you to think about what you want for the future, Lila. And whether or not you can ever love me.
The words I could trembled on my tongue. I couldn’t say that yet, though. He’d said he loved me, doubled down on the certainty of his feelings, and he was here despite the fogginess of my feelings.
I could insulted his steadiness.
Nestled into him, I soaked in his unshakable warmth, even while a little kernel of cold shame panged deep in my heart. I was taking from him and not giving back.
I slung an arm over his waist and plastered myself to him.
His low huff of amusement brushed over my forehead.
“What’s up with you tonight? You’re like beggarweed.” He kissed my hair. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“I feel like where we are isn’t fair to you.” The words hurt coming out, but he deserved my honesty. “Like you’re giving and I’m taking.”
He lifted his head to look at me, his eyes squinted. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve thought through the risks. Wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t handle it, so quit worrying. That’s only gonna create issues.”
I couldn’t argue. If I kept on this line of thinking, I’d worry myself right into breaking us up. And neither of us wanted that.
Wiggling my shoulder into his armpit, I rested my head on his biceps. With a fingertip, I traced the whorls of hair on his chest. “How’d you get so emotionally smart?”
“A little bit of therapy when I started at UGA.” The rough snort under a little bit made me think it was a lot. “I was struggling and didn’t want to be. Learned how to figure myself out, what I wanted, what scared me, what risks I could tolerate.”
“I’m a little jealous.” I’d spent college chasing a 4.0 and a leadership role in my sorority.
“Don’t be. A lot of my issues then stemmed from my dad being a piece of shit who left my mama.” He rested his chin on my head. “Had to make sure I was never like him.”
I lifted onto my elbows. “You could never be. You’re the best man I know. Well, you and my daddy.”
He smiled, eyes lighting with pleasure before he winced. “Please don’t bring your daddy into bed with us.”
With a quiet laugh, I tweaked his chin. “I could call you daddy.”
“No, I don’t think so, baby.” He pinched my hip. “That does not float my boat.”
“Yeah?” I trailed my hand down his chest to stroke below his navel. Something about that drove him crazy, and I loved the contrast of coarse hair and warm skin there. A muscle flexed under my fingers. “What does float your boat?”
“You.” He cradled my jaw and dropped a kiss on my lips so I tasted a hint of myself on his mouth from earlier. “Always you.”
I darted my tongue over his bottom lip and swallowed his groan. His dick stirred against my thigh. Desire and emotion whirled through me.
Yes, this man deserved more than I could from me.
He deserved everything.
“Okay, I need your help.” I plunked down the tray bearing our coffees and a trio of cupcakes on the table in front of Lacey and Vic.
The other table at Shay’s bakery held a quartet of older women playing an early evening round of cards.
“I know we’re not friends friends, but my friends back home would be useless. ”
“That sounds . . . ominous.” Lacey smiled, not offended at all by my declaration we weren’t really friends yet. But it was true, and I really wasn’t one to lie. Be out of touch with my emotions? Sure. Lie about them? No.
Still in uniform, Vic simply watched me and waited. I itched under her impassive, all-seeing expression.
Hands wrapped around my mug, I jumped in. “I don’t really know how to be a cop’s girlfriend. I mean, I know that sounds weird since we’ve been dating for months, but I didn’t really . . . I don’t know how to . . .”
I trailed off, embarrassed. Lacey stared. Vic lifted a brow.
She shifted on her chair, the leather of her equipment belt creaking. “You want to know how to be a supportive partner.”
All over, I sagged with relief. “Yes.”
“What did you do with your other boyfriends?” Lacey pinched off a bit of her cupcake.
“Yeah, can we not discuss that?” I winced, Mama’s voice calling me flighty ringing in my head. “I know it’s a different kind of stress than my dad’s business.”
“It is.” Vic trailed a fingertip around the edge of her mug.
Her nails were clean and short, with the barest hint of a nude polish.
“But Gallagher has his shit together. A lot of guys – not just cops, but firefighters, EMTs, don’t have the skills to process it and keep it from poisoning home. He does.”
“Yes.” Like a rock in my shoe, that small, hard shame poked at me for not realizing what a gem he was. I wanted to deserve him. “I guess I want to make sure I have the skills.”
“I saw you at the hospital.” Vic’s tone didn’t shift, all calm and no judgement. “You were uncomfortable as hell, but you never let him know. You put his needs first when it counted. That’s important and says a lot. About you and about y’all as a couple.”
“I was scared to death.” Remembered fear swamped me.
“He stays on the road, you probably will be again. But he’s smart and well-trained. You can’t live in fear of what-ifs.”
Something heavier than grief flitted over her face, and Lacey darted a sympathetic look at her. I stilled. I was on some kind of sacred ground here without knowing it.
“I don’t know what advice to give.” With a smile that was more self-deprecating grimace, Lacey shrugged. “You pray over him, accept he might be late if something’s going on right at shift change, listen when he wants to talk and give him space when he doesn’t. You just love him.”
I sucked in an audible inhale before I thought about it.
Vic’s already insightful green gaze sharpened. “That’s what you’re really struggling with.”
“Yes.” I buried my burning face in my hands. “He says he’ll wait, but I feel awful–”
“You can’t force that. Or rush it.” Lacey tugged my hands down, covering my fingers with hers. This time her sympathy was for me. “It happens differently for everyone all the time. Oh, my gosh, I told Josh way too soon. He freaked out. I was embarrassed, and he was gutted. We broke up and–”
“I remember that.” Affectionate amusement laced Vic’s voice. “He was a mess for days.”
“Then he showed back up with flowers and an I love you, and I was like, nope. I couldn’t believe it because it felt too much like convenience and guilt.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Miserable, I stared at my untouched cupcake. “That I’ll get there – and I can – but he won’t believe me.”
“How do you know you’re not already there?” Vic took an unbothered swallow of coffee.
I stared at her. She stared back with that impassive look.
Clenching my hands around my mug, I swallowed. “I’ve never really been in love.”
“There’s a difference between in love and loving.
Like Roman is in love with himself, but he doesn’t love himself.
It’s possible to have both, though. Romantic feelings, which you two have, but put-the-other-first-feelings?
You two might have that also.” Vic shrugged, badge glinting in the late sunlight streaming in through the big plate glass windows.
“I mean, you’re here, putting yourself out there with people you don’t know well, trying to be better for him, be what he needs. ”
Straightening, Lacey fixed me with a bright grin. Vic quirked a brow and lifted her mug in a salute. “I mean . . . that says a lot.”
I supposed it did. But did it say enough?