The pit exhaled an everlasting aroma of coffee, as if it were burnt into the walls and carpeting. Scribbled-up maps covered a central table. Mug shots and crime scene photos were taped to the walls. Paper containers and cups from various drive-throughs littered desks and overflowed trash bins. And amongst the clutter stood a beautiful man.
Hands tucked in the pockets of his suit pants, he leaned his butt against the table ledge. His smile was affectionate and unassuming, and it creased the tanned skin around his blue eyes. A picturesque blend of allure and good intent, he wasn’t trying to charm her. He was simply happy to see her.
She went to him, quickening her stride with each step. A breath away, he stared down at her, eyes roaming her face. “Hi.”
As reckless as it was, she wanted to sink to her knees and do the proposing. “Hi.’
“Good day?”
“Good day. Interesting evening.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been a busy man, plotting your little game.”
He was unruffled, as always, in his commitment. “No games. Just trying to clean you out of excuses by the time you reached me.”
If he hadn’t already held her heart, he’d have it then. Keep it physical, dammit. “While you aced me on creative effort, Noah Winslow, my ever growing list of excuses runs as long as”—she dropped her gaze to his pants—”your cock.”
A groan vibrated in his throat. He cupped her chin, lifting it. His other hand slid around her waist, down the crease of her butt and seized her upper thigh, slamming their hips together. Then his mouth opened over hers, and his tongue swept inside. Not an aggressive kiss. It was soft and doting, warm and giving.
Before Noah, she’d only known one kind of intimacy. The unwanted kind that held her down and wounded her flesh. Noah showed her the pleasure of a man’s reverent touches, his humbled breathing no matter how hungry, and the respect in whispered words moving over her skin.
But his frustration over his inability to bring her to climax wedged between them. The problem wasn’t his. There was something wrong with her. The things she wanted and couldn’t ask for, the way she wanted them…her tastes tilted toward dark and sick.
The kiss slowed, and he breathed against her lips, “Let’s get out of here. Yours or mine?”
Not the question she expected. Maybe he sensed she was nearing a decision and didn’t want to put undue strain on her. She let out a breath. “Yours. I need to swing by mine and pick up clean clothes.” She lived above Kilroy Tattoo, which was on the way. Had she known she would need her things, she would’ve just met him there. But he’d had a plan. “I’m curious. You talked your buddies into participating in this elaborate proposal tonight. I expected you on your knee when I came in.”
His nose stroked the side of hers, up, down. “I saw the answer in your eyes, Sarah.”
What he’d seen there was the lingering shock of Nathan’s announcement. “Noah—”
“I’ll meet you at the shop.” He dropped his arms and leaned back, smiled. “We’ll take my car home.”
Home. Another disagreement he hadn’t gained footing on. The amount of time they already spent together was too damned risky.
“Okay. See you there.” She pecked his lips and fled for the door before he could gather his things. Being seen out with him, getting caught doing something as simple as holding his hand, could cost him his life. The station could be under watch at that very moment.
“Sarah.” The soft tone stopped her at the threshold, turned her head. He raised his eyes, captured hers. “No more proposals.”
Oh God, he’d had it. He was done with her. Her heart pounded out of control even as her gut told her the decision would save his life. Her gut was right, but her heart hammered to break out of her chest and fight.
“I’ll make this loud and clear, sweetheart. We are not breaking up. You say you don’t need a certificate to be with me. I’m holding you to that.” His fists, buried in his pockets, flexed. “I want to give you everything.” It was a heated whisper, and his throat bobbed. “I think this concession will make you the happiest.”
The backs of her eyes inflamed. He’d already given her everything, and she hadn’t given him so much as her real name. She nodded, a jerky movement. “See you at the shop.”
3
Charlee swiped through the playlist on her phone until she found the song she wanted. Squatting behind the shop counter and plugging it into the sound system, her thoughts circled around Jay and his scars.
He wasn’t intentionally dominating, but his aura exuded alpha, calling to her darkest desires. His mysticism only magnified the effect. She wanted to learn more about him, wanted to nestle deep inside and unearth the man who seemed all too familiar with pain. Real pain. Maybe he’d identify with her own.
She sighed. Damn her concentration. What she needed to be focused on was surviving Roy Oxford and making a clean break from Noah and Nathan Winslow. Leaving Noah was an excruciating necessity, and she had zero confidence in her ability to do it.
The lock jiggled, and the door scraped over the welcome mat. A chill tingled down her back.