Chapter Nine
A Little Bit More
Lottie
I woke up when dawn was kissing the sky.
I didn’t know what woke me, though since this all started,
I’d wake on occasion, make sure Mo was there, then go back to sleep when I saw
he was.
But that time, I knew something was off.
I got up to an elbow and looked to the couch.
No Mo.
This was concerning, though some mornings when I woke up in
a way I was awake, he wasn’t there. He’d be using the bathroom or doing a
walk-through of the house, and then he’d come back.
I rested on my elbow listening in case that was what was
happening, but I heard no noises from the bathroom or the house.
After Mo informed me the guy was there last night, he was so
edgy, he was quietly wired, that live wire charging everything anywhere near
him.
Even me.
I suspected he wanted to be in on the interrogation, or the
takedown, or the search of his house, or whatever they were doing, but he had
to stay with me.
We did our normal thing coming home, but when no word came,
I’d had to ask him to talk me to sleep with his toes-to-feet-to-knees gig.
Not to get him to help me sleep, but to help him relax so
his vibe would leak out of the room and I could go to sleep so he’d at least
stop worrying about me.
Listening to his deep voice lull me, I did just that.
Now was now.
If they’d caught him, would Mo leave me?
If they’d caught him, wouldn’t he stay and pounce on me?
Considering I very much needed to have answers to these
questions, I threw the covers back, twisted my hips and tossed my legs over the
side of the bed.
Since the morning of the egg white omelets, I’d made a habit
of wearing my most unsexy nightgowns to bed.
I didn’t have a lot of such items of apparel, though when I
was on my period and feeling bloaty and devouring popchips
by the bag, I went with one of those.
So this situation was taxing the limits of my unsexy stuff,
but it wasn’t for that reason I hoped it was over.
And my sleep drawer included the one I was wearing, which
had little straps but the rest of it hung from a high-ish
neckline down to my upper thighs and looked like one, wide, white cotton smock
with a deep ruffle at the hem.
It wasn’t ugly, as such. But it didn’t make me feel like a
bombshell.
I went to the bathroom, the door of which was open.
No Mo.
Okay, I wasn’t liking this.
I crept to the top of the stairs and listened.
The house wasn’t exactly brightening up with the September
dawn seeing as Mo still had all the blinds closed.
And they were now closed.
No noises.
Shit, shit, damn.
I hoped the threat was over, I hoped Mo was off somewhere,
having a quiet conversation or tying up loose ends.
But I should be prepared.
And with him gone, I had to admit, I was a little freaked.
He’d never leave me, unless it was safe to do that.
Still, he’d been around every day. I was used to him. I liked
being used to him. And the situation was fraught.
So yeah.
I was a little freaked.
I moved silently back to the bedroom and assessed my options
for a weapon, just in case.
I could use a shoe, though if I did actually have to use it,
that would include getting in close proximity of someone I thought was a bad
guy.
I didn’t want to do that.
So no shoe.
I had a can of Mace, but that was in my purse which was on
the seat of the hall tree downstairs.
I decided to buy some Mace for my nightstand.
And I went with hairspray. A shot in the face might
incapacitate somebody long enough I could run away.
I had three different kinds (light hold, medium hold, and
super hold).
I decided on super hold.
I uncapped it, put the cap on the counter, stole out of the
bathroom and skulked down the hall, then the stairs, thanking God I’d had a
thick, buttery-cream carpet runner installed in both.
It was when I hit the wood floors at the bottom I was glad
my feet were bare.
I turned, moved through the arch into the living room and
stopped dead.
This was because the lights were on in the kitchen and there
was a very tall, very muscled dude (not taller or more muscled than Mo, but
then again, not many were) standing at my Nespresso machine. He was wearing
olive drab cargos and a white T-shirt.
His head was turned to me.
Thick head of silvery-gray hair, even though I could tell by
his face he hadn’t lived the years to earn that color.
Too far away to note the color of his eyes.
Totally not too far away to see he was gorgeous.
Undoubtedly one of Hawk’s dudes for no man who looked like
this could be a crackpot, or at least I hoped the laws of the universe weren’t
that twisted.
“What’s with the hairspray?” he asked.
“To incapacitate you so I can run away,” I told him. “I had
a selection and went with super hold.”
“Good choice,” he replied.
“Who are you?”
“Name’s Axl. One of Hawk’s men. Buddy of Mo’s.”
I lowered my weapon, now on the subject that interested me.
“Where’s Mo?”
He turned fully my way and leaned a slim hip against the
counter. “Caught the guy. Mo’s with Hawk. He told me to tell you if you woke up
before he got back that he’d be back as soon as he could.”
I bet he would.
But…
They got him.
Ohmigod, they got him.
Instead of doing a round-off followed by an
arms-up-in-the-air, heels-kicked-back jump, I walked to my coffee table and put
the hairspray down.
When I gave my attention back to Axl, I saw I hadn’t lost
his.
“Mind if I have some coffee?” he asked.
“Help yourself,” I answered, wandering toward the kitchen
and stopping. “Pods in the cupboard above the machine.”
He reached to the cupboard above the machine.
“Who was he?” I asked.
“Semi-regular. Total whackjob,” he
muttered, putting the bowl of pods on the counter and hitting the button on
top, making it blink green.
Then he turned again toward me.
Whoa.
Clear, ice-blue eyes.
Nice.
“He comes to the club on occasion,” he went on. “And—”
He cut himself off as he tensed, straightened and then used
those long legs of his to move toward me, by me then stop four feet beyond me
just as I heard the front door slam, heavy footfalls…
I stepped to the side so I could see past Axl.
Then I stopped dead.
Because Mo caught sight of me and he stopped dead one foot
into the living room.
My panties grew wet and my mind went into a trance as Mo
again very successfully communicated non-verbally.
This time he was communicating the wait was over.
And what was to come next was going to be worth that wait.
“Go,” he grunted.
“Gotcha,” Axl replied, humor dripping off that word. “Nice
to meet you, Lottie,” he said as he strolled across the room.
I stared at Mo and didn’t say a word.
I’d apologize for being rude later.
Vaguely, I heard the front door open.
Vaguely, I heard the front door close.
I forced myself to speak.
“They got him?”
“They got him.”
We stared at each other.
We stared at each other longer.
Then in a sudden burst of movement, I raced toward him.
I also raced right by him so I could sprint up the stairs.
All those nights with Mo on my couch wishing he was
somewhere else, this was happening in my bed.
I heard the thunderous falls of Mo’s boots hitting the steps
behind me and I knew by their tempo that he was skipping some.
And my panties got wetter.
I ran into my room, twirled to face the door, the voluminous
folds of my smock nightie flying out, exposing panty I was sure, and I saw Mo
enter the room.
He stopped advancing but not moving. However, he moved only
to take his gun with holster off his belt and toss it to the foot of the bed.
I started panting.
We stared at each other again.
My body felt so hot, I was certain I was about to burst into
flame.
He put his fingers to his light gray compression shirt,
pulled it up and it was gone, exposing the enormous wall of his chest, his
bulbous pecs, the wide sweep of his shoulders, his bulging biceps, his
demarcated abs and the thick, dark trail of hair that circled his navel and
disappeared into the waistband of his black cargos.
Oh God.
I was gonna pass out.
“Mo,” I whispered.
At that, he moved.
In two great steps, he was on me.
He hooked me with one arm at my waist and I was up,
literally flying through the air to land with a couple of bounces on my back in
my bed.
Oh God.
I was gonna come.
I got up on both elbows and saw him standing at the foot of
the bed, his upper body rising and falling in a huge, smooth, but fast and deep
rhythm.
He was getting control.
I needed to get control.
The problem was, certain areas of my body were begging me to
get up on my feet, use the mattress as a springboard and land on him.
He bent at the waist, all the way, so all I had was a view
of his back which might have been good except he was clearly taking off his
boots and that meant he was using his hands which meant the muscles in his back
and shoulders were moving.
And I was gonna come again.
“Mo,” I whimpered.
Fast as a lash, he was up, his hands on my ankles, pulling
my legs apart.
Lord, he had to stop doing shit like that.
“Baby,” I breathed.
Then he went in, one knee to the bed, the other. Fluidly
ducking his head down and moving forward like he was diving deep in a body of
water, his head disappeared under the ruffle and his mouth was on me over my
panties.
My fingers curled into the bedclothes and my head fell back
as I spread my legs wider, feeling his teeth scraping at the material, at
me.
So good.
So good.
“Oh God, oh God,” I chanted, moving one hand to the back of
his head, feeling the warm smoothness and quivering from top to toe.
I pushed him to me.
His mouth closed over me and he drew, hard.
So good.
“Mo,” I moaned.
His mouth disappeared, I felt his finger hook in the gusset
of my panties and my legs were forced back together and straight up as he got
on his knees and tore my panties off.
He tossed them away, caught my legs at the calves, separated
them and let them fall to his sides.
I stared up at him as he dug into his back pocket for his
wallet.