sharing breaths.
Then her lashes flutter like Spanish fans casting elongated shadows on her cheeks just before they shut, and I can feel the tension leave her body. Still going slow—because it’s Dee and I don’t want to mess this up—I slide my tongue along the seam of her lips. And when she parts them on a hushed sigh, I edge inside. And oh man. Warm, moist silk. She tastes like spiced honey and sweet, tempting innocence. The reality of Dee is so much better than anything I ever imagined. And when the tip of her tongue tentatively ventures forward to touch mine, it’s like having liquid desire injected into my veins.
I want to peel off her bulky sweatshirt and lay my hands against her bare flesh. Learn the shape of her body and suck up the scent wafting off her skin. I want to be inside her so badly, it hurts. But Dee means more to me than a race to the finish line. No other girl has ever made me feel anything beyond the greedy lust pushing behind my zipper or the sick need to prove a point to my old man.
I lie back and bring her with me, slipping my palm under the velvety curls to the nape of her neck. Lush boobs flatten against my chest, and even though my ribs ache like a bitch, the cushion of her body is a welcome burden.
My free hand goes to her back and slides along the curve of her spine to the dip at her waist, discovering hidden hills and valleys.
Loving the feel of her, loving her, I close my eyes and sink into the creamy kiss. I lick deeper and she trembles against me. I suck her tongue and she grips my shoulders, emitting a sexy moan, given to me without pretense. Dee’s emotions are honest and I need that more than I’ve known. From her kiss I draw sustenance and strength. I feel it coat my scars and tend my wounds. And once again Dee pulls me away from the darkness.
THURSDAY NIGHT, LEXIE AND JORDYN show up at my house. Despite my objections, they are determined to drag me out. They select an outfit from my closet and shove it into my hands. A pair of unforgiving black stretch jeans and a shimmery V-neck top that reveals more cleavage than it should. Both garments I bought a year ago on some ridiculous impulse, thinking that I might actually develop the nerve to wear them. Of course, that never happened. But arguing with my friends when they’re on a mission is useless.
I dress on autopilot and let Lexie have her way with my hair and makeup. She’s better at it than I am, anyway. It takes her less than ten minutes to style my curls into an artful side-swept ponytail, add smoky shadow to my lids, and paint my lips fire-engine red. Clapping her hands with excitement, she stands back and declares me a bombshell. I roll my eyes. I don’t even bother to check the mirror.
When the cab arrives, I slump against the backseat as we head to the Glam Bar in downtown Brockville. A new hot spot for the singles crowd.
“Come on, girl!” Jordyn says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “You are going to forget about this case and Mick for tonight and have a good time.”
How can I forget about something that will reunite me with everything I ran away from? I let my guilt do the talking when Isabelle Torres called. My every intention was to stick to the “I have a full caseload” excuse, but turning down the man who broke my heart proved far easier than turning down a woman afraid of losing her foster son. I understand loss and I just couldn’t bring myself to refuse. No matter the cost.
Now I’m regretting it. I just want to crawl under the blankets and go to sleep. Right after I eat until I’m numb.
That’s why my friends are dragging my big, sorry butt out—to save me from myself.
“I’ll try,” I say. It’s all I can promise.
There’s a good musical groove going on inside the packed Glam Bar. The three of us are standing around a black-and-chrome pub table, sipping our drinks. Well, my friends are sipping their drinks. I’m pretty much chugging mine.
Then her lashes flutter like Spanish fans casting elongated shadows on her cheeks just before they shut, and I can feel the tension leave her body. Still going slow—because it’s Dee and I don’t want to mess this up—I slide my tongue along the seam of her lips. And when she parts them on a hushed sigh, I edge inside. And oh man. Warm, moist silk. She tastes like spiced honey and sweet, tempting innocence. The reality of Dee is so much better than anything I ever imagined. And when the tip of her tongue tentatively ventures forward to touch mine, it’s like having liquid desire injected into my veins.
I want to peel off her bulky sweatshirt and lay my hands against her bare flesh. Learn the shape of her body and suck up the scent wafting off her skin. I want to be inside her so badly, it hurts. But Dee means more to me than a race to the finish line. No other girl has ever made me feel anything beyond the greedy lust pushing behind my zipper or the sick need to prove a point to my old man.
I lie back and bring her with me, slipping my palm under the velvety curls to the nape of her neck. Lush boobs flatten against my chest, and even though my ribs ache like a bitch, the cushion of her body is a welcome burden.
My free hand goes to her back and slides along the curve of her spine to the dip at her waist, discovering hidden hills and valleys.
Loving the feel of her, loving her, I close my eyes and sink into the creamy kiss. I lick deeper and she trembles against me. I suck her tongue and she grips my shoulders, emitting a sexy moan, given to me without pretense. Dee’s emotions are honest and I need that more than I’ve known. From her kiss I draw sustenance and strength. I feel it coat my scars and tend my wounds. And once again Dee pulls me away from the darkness.
THURSDAY NIGHT, LEXIE AND JORDYN show up at my house. Despite my objections, they are determined to drag me out. They select an outfit from my closet and shove it into my hands. A pair of unforgiving black stretch jeans and a shimmery V-neck top that reveals more cleavage than it should. Both garments I bought a year ago on some ridiculous impulse, thinking that I might actually develop the nerve to wear them. Of course, that never happened. But arguing with my friends when they’re on a mission is useless.
I dress on autopilot and let Lexie have her way with my hair and makeup. She’s better at it than I am, anyway. It takes her less than ten minutes to style my curls into an artful side-swept ponytail, add smoky shadow to my lids, and paint my lips fire-engine red. Clapping her hands with excitement, she stands back and declares me a bombshell. I roll my eyes. I don’t even bother to check the mirror.
When the cab arrives, I slump against the backseat as we head to the Glam Bar in downtown Brockville. A new hot spot for the singles crowd.
“Come on, girl!” Jordyn says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “You are going to forget about this case and Mick for tonight and have a good time.”
How can I forget about something that will reunite me with everything I ran away from? I let my guilt do the talking when Isabelle Torres called. My every intention was to stick to the “I have a full caseload” excuse, but turning down the man who broke my heart proved far easier than turning down a woman afraid of losing her foster son. I understand loss and I just couldn’t bring myself to refuse. No matter the cost.
Now I’m regretting it. I just want to crawl under the blankets and go to sleep. Right after I eat until I’m numb.
That’s why my friends are dragging my big, sorry butt out—to save me from myself.
“I’ll try,” I say. It’s all I can promise.
There’s a good musical groove going on inside the packed Glam Bar. The three of us are standing around a black-and-chrome pub table, sipping our drinks. Well, my friends are sipping their drinks. I’m pretty much chugging mine.
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