Stripped, page 19
He pulled away and stood and then started putting bacon on plates. He glanced at her over his shoulder, the evil smile still in place. “Who wants breakfast?”
She reached out and palmed the impressive bulge in his jeans. “You have three seconds to get inside me.”
He set the plates down and kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re adorable when you’re frustrated.”
She tightened her grip on him. “I’m not kidding, Matthews,” she ground out. Her muscles clenched, desperate for him. It was incredible the way he was able to take her from zero to sixty in just a few minutes.
He smiled, leaning forward and kissing her, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She whimpered and undid his jeans, freeing his gorgeously thick cock, stroking him. Wanting to make him as desperate for her as she was for him. Dropping his head, he kissed her neck as he pulled a condom out of the back pocket of his jeans. Still kissing her, he opened it and rolled it on, letting his jeans fall and pool around his feet.
With his big hands on her hips, he pulled her closer, right to the edge of the counter, sliding inside her with one smooth stroke. They moaned in unison, and a blissful calm washed over her at having him inside her again. She let her head fall back, her body clenching at him as he filled her up, making her feel warm. Golden and sparkling. Sliding one of her hands between her legs, she started touching herself, working her fingers against her swollen clit.
Sawyer let out an approving rumble as he fucked her. “Shit, that’s hot.”
“Oh yeah? You like watching me touch myself?” She nipped at his ear, earning a groan.
He slowed his thrusts and kissed her again. “I just like you. Period.”
She met his eyes, a tentative smile spreading across her face. He mirrored it back to her, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he stroked his cock in and out of her. He kissed her again and pulled her closer.
It didn’t take long before she started to tremble, a beautiful pressure throbbing between her legs as he drove her higher and higher. She stroked herself in tight little circles and then exploded, crying out as her orgasm crested over her, leaving her skin tingling. His grip on her hips tightened and he slammed into her with several hard, deep thrusts before he went still, his cock pulsing inside her.
With a contended sigh she sagged against him. He kissed her hair, wrapping his arms around her, stroking a hand up and down her back as they lingered in the afterglow.
And then the smoke alarm went off.
“Ah, shit,” he said, pulling out of her and hurrying to deal with the alarm, almost tripping over his jeans around his ankles. She hopped down from the counter, shutting the burner off and waving a kitchen towel over the two pieces of bacon he’d left in the pan, charred to a crisp.
They looked at each other and started to laugh.
Sawyer took care of the condom and pulled his jeans back on, adding scrambled eggs—now cold—and toast to the plates with the unburned bacon. He poured her a cup of coffee, and she watched as he added a little sugar and a lot of milk to it before setting it down in front of her.
“You know how I take my coffee?”
He pulled his chair closer to the table, shrugging. “It’s how you fix it at the station.”
It was the tiniest thing, and yet it didn’t feel tiny. It felt significant. Sweet, and special.
She took a small sip and then dug into her breakfast, suddenly famished. “Mmm,” she said around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Really good.”
He bit into a strip of bacon. “Thanks. It was important to my mom that her boys know how to cook.”
“Where did you grow up?” He had the tiniest hint of a Southern twang sometimes, but it wasn’t nearly enough to guess where he was from.
“Brunswick. It’s about four hours southeast of here, on the coast. My parents still live there.”
“What do they do?”
“My mom’s a high school teacher—health and sex ed, so that was pretty fucking awkward—and my dad’s a social worker with the local Department of Family and Children Services.” He sat back and took a sip of his coffee. “Where did you grow up? You don’t have much of an accent.”
“I was born in Phoenix, and lived there until the accident. I came to Atlanta to live with my grandparents.”
He reached out and laid a hand over hers, his features drawn. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,” she said, happy to take the comfort he was offering. “I still think about them a lot even though they’ve been gone for twenty years. Don’t get me wrong, I love my grandparents, and they made sure I had a wonderful childhood. But sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if the accident hadn’t happened.” If she wouldn’t be so afraid to be alone once Nan’s time came.
He nodded slowly. “All the things that could’ve been.”
“Exactly.”
A comfortable silence fell between them, as though this wasn’t their first breakfast together. As though they’d been doing this for months, years even. But they hadn’t; they weren’t even supposed to be doing this at all.
She pushed her eggs around on her plate. “So . . . so how’s this going to work?”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re breaking the rules. I’m not usually a rule-breaker.”
At that, he slowly set his fork down and leaned back in his chair, an unreadable expression on his face. “So . . . what? You don’t want to . . .” He swallowed, frowning.
She set her fork down, the movement careful and deliberate. “I didn’t say that. I don’t . . .” She trailed off and swallowed against the panic starting to claw its way up her throat. “I do want this. I think. But we could lose our jobs.”
“We won’t.”
She shook her head, trying to organize her thoughts over the internal tug of war waging inside her. “You can’t promise that.”
Something in his eyes flashed. “You don’t trust me.”
“I didn’t say that either.”
“Well, help me out here, Brooke. I’m trying to fill in the gaps on my own and getting it all wrong, apparently.” His mouth tightened in a frown. “Listen, if you don’t want to do this, just say it.”
She picked up her coffee and took a sip, stalling while she tried to figure out how she felt. “This is messy. I want this, but I don’t want to lose my job. Maybe we should hit Pause until the case is over.”
He arched a brow. “And then what? We trade partners? Leave everything on Pause?”
She shrugged and then blew out a long, slow breath through her nose. “So . . . where does that leave us?” She wanted to let him in—why was it so hard?
He leaned forward and laid a hand over hers. “We keep it on the DL. We’ll figure everything out after we’ve wrapped the investigation.”
“So, for now, this is just between us. An itch we’re scratching.” Sex. Not love. For some reason, that made it a bit easier for Brooke to wrap her head around.
He nodded, although she saw something unidentifiable flicker in his eyes. “Right.”
She wasn’t convinced it was a good idea, but what other choice did they have? They couldn’t seem to keep their hands off of each other, but she wasn’t willing to risk her career—especially for a connection that was purely physical. They’d only known each other for a month if you counted back to their first night together; surely that wasn’t long enough to develop any real feelings for someone. Keeping the fact that she was hooking up with her partner a secret—temporarily—was really the only option.
Hopefully it didn’t blow up in their faces.
Chapter Fifteen
The following morning, Brooke stirred in her bed. She opened her eyes slowly, Sawyer’s big hand flexing against her hip. He slid his hand around to her stomach and pulled her against him, and with his solid, warm body behind her, she let her eyes drift closed again.
He’d worked at the club last night, and after his shift, he’d come over to her place. She’d had a harder time than usual watching him dance, but thankfully he hadn’t had to do any hot seats or lap dances. She honestly wasn’t sure if she’d be able to watch that and keep her cool. Now that they were doing this, she felt possessive of him, and didn’t want to share any more than was absolutely necessary.
Her phone started buzzing from its spot on her nightstand, and she opened her eyes again, groping for it.
“Hello?”
“Is this Brooke Simmons?”
Brooke rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn. “Yeah.”
“My name’s Ken. I’m calling from the Wellington Rock Retirement Community. It’s about your grandmother, Miriam Woods.”
The fog of sleep cleared immediately as Brooke sat up, her entire body going on high alert, pulse pounding, stomach clenching, sweat prickling along her hairline. “What happened?”
“She had a heart attack. She’s been rushed to Emory.”
Sawyer sat up beside her, laying a hand on her back. Brooke’s hand shook. “So she’s alive?”
“Yes, but she’s in critical condition, as far as I know.”
“Okay. I’m on my way. Thank you for calling,” she said, her voice sounding numb and faraway. She disconnected the call and let her phone drop to the bed, her mind racing as the rest of her body seemed to turn to cement.
Sawyer rubbed her back. “What is it?” he asked quietly.
She managed to push her shock aside and flung back the covers. “It’s Nan. She had a heart attack. I—I need to go to her.” She opened the curtains and rifled through the pile of clothes on the floor beside her bed, then tugged on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, not caring if they were clean.
Sawyer stood and quietly started pulling his clothes on. “Which hospital?” he asked, slipping his phone into his back pocket.
She frowned as she scraped her hair into a messy ponytail. “You don’t need to come with me.”
“I know I don’t need to. But can I?”
“You want to?”
“I don’t want you to go alone.” He took a step toward her, rubbing a thumb over her cheek. “You don’t need to be alone, Brooke.” Not anymore. His unspoken words hung between them, and after a second, she nodded.
“Okay. Thanks.”
The trip to the hospital felt like the longest three miles she’d ever driven in her life, even though the Sunday morning traffic was light. Every song on the radio was jarring. The sunlight was too bright. Every single car was in her way.
She blew out an aggravated breath as she came to yet another red light. Sawyer laid a hand on her thigh, not saying anything. She took a deep breath, letting his touch anchor her. Letting it ground her against the onslaught of emotions pelting her like shards of ice. Worry, and fear for Nan, and anger that the only person she had left on this planet might be taken from her.
As they entered the Critical Care Center, the smell of antiseptic hit her, making her stomach turn. After checking in at the reception desk, they were directed to a room at the end of the hall.
“I’ll wait out here,” said Sawyer before pressing a kiss to her temple. Brooke nodded, steeling herself as she stepped inside the small hospital room.
Her heart clenched at the sight of Nan. She looked so small, so frail and weak, in the hospital bed. Tubes and wires surrounded her bed in an organized tangle, hooked up to various machines. Brooke’s eyes stung and she blinked rapidly, pressing her fingers to her mouth to get her emotions under control. The last thing Nan needed right now was to see Brooke upset.
Brooke stepped farther into the room, forcing herself to approach the bed, and she carefully took one of Nan’s hands in hers. At that, Nan’s eyes fluttered open, a faint smile on her lips. “My Brooke,” she said, squeezing Brooke’s hand gently.
“Nan,” said Brooke, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat and blinked furiously. “Do you know where you are?”
“I’m in the ICU at Emory. I had a heart attack, not an aneurism.” A wry smile twisted her lips, and Brooke felt some of her panic start to recede. Even though her voice was thin and she looked pale and so very, very fragile, Nan was still Nan.
Brooke perched on the edge of the bed, still holding Nan’s hand. “Have you seen the doctor?”
Nan nodded. “They’re running tests to see how much damage was done to my heart.”
“And then what?”
“Depends what the tests say. I might need to have heart surgery.”
Oh, God. Brooke blinked, her eyes stinging again, and this time she couldn’t hold the tears back. She sucked in a shuddering breath as they streaked down her cheeks.
Nan reached up and stroked Brooke’s cheek. “It’s okay, honey. Don’t be scared.”
Brooke nodded, feeling like a needy child. She should be the one comforting her grandmother, not the other way around. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” But something in her grandmother’s expression faltered, and Brooke could see the fear there. “I love you so much, Brooke.”
Her words only made Brooke cry even harder, and she wiped at her cheeks, nodding and unable to speak. Her throat felt clogged, with tears and worry and heartache.
“I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve given me.”
Brooke pressed her lips together, knowing her grandmother needed to say these things, and hating that they felt like goodbye. “I love you too, Nan, but please don’t talk like this.”
Nan smiled up at her. “Don’t worry, I’m not giving up. I just . . .” Her own eyes grew misty. “I needed you to hear those things.”
For a few minutes, neither of them spoke, just sitting together. But then Nan’s eyes drifted over Brooke’s shoulder and she smiled, her eyes twinkling. “You must be the man who tried to get my granddaughter kicked off your team,” she said, her voice a bit stronger than it had been a few minutes ago. Brooke twisted to see Sawyer standing in the doorway. He’d gone pale, his mouth open slightly.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable. “Uh, yes ma’am. I guess . . . uh, yeah.”
Nan winked at Brooke. “I had a feeling I’d be meeting you. Why don’t you come in? You’re very attractive but you don’t make a terribly good door.”
Sawyer’s eyes went wide, but to his credit, he stepped into the room and laid a hand on Brooke’s shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you ma’am, although I’m sorry for the circumstances.” Well, well, well. Look who morphed into a sweet Southern boy around grandmothers.
Nan eyed him, her gaze appraising and shrewd. “As am I, but it’s good to meet the man who managed to get so far under Brooke’s skin.”
Brooke’s cheeks warmed, but she wasn’t about to chastise her ninety-year-old ICU patient grandmother.
Sawyer chuckled and gave Brooke’s shoulder a squeeze. Nan crooked a finger, beckoning him closer. He leaned down and Nan tapped his chest. “My, my. That is impressive.” She shot Brooke a meaningful look, and Brooke smiled. “I want to ask you something.” She motioned him even closer and he leaned down, his ear right by her mouth. Brooke couldn’t hear what Nan whispered to him, but after a moment, Sawyer straightened, his eyes bright, a small smile on his face. He met Nan’s eyes and nodded, once. Then he pressed a kiss to Brooke’s cheek.
“I’ll be outside,” he said, giving them the room.
“What did you say to him?” Brooke asked, but Nan shook her head.
“My dear girl, I have loved you so much.”
“Nan, come on. Don’t talk like that. Enough.”
“I’m ninety with a bad heart, Brooke. I’m going to try my best to stick around, but it might be out of my hands.”
“No. No, because I’ll miss you so much that I won’t know how to handle it. I don’t want to figure out how to keep going without you. I’m not ready for that.” Brooke tried and failed to suppress the desperation in her voice.
Nan smiled. “You won’t be alone. That man out there? He’s in love with you. I can see it just from the way he looks at you. And that makes me glad, knowing you have him.”
A prickling heat flushed over Brooke’s body, panic and wonder and denial all fused together in one bundle that she didn’t quite know what to do with. Surely it was way too early in her relationship with Sawyer—if you could even call it a relationship—to talk about love, right? She’d just figured out that she didn’t hate him a few days ago.
Nan’s eyes started to droop, and Brooke rose and kissed her on the cheek. “Get some rest. I’m going to go rustle up some coffee. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Nan nodded and Brooke left the room, her heart feeling heavy.
Chapter Sixteen
Music throbbed through the Manhattan Ballroom’s speakers, echoing with rhythmic dull thuds through the cinderblock walls backstage. Sawyer flipped through the costume rack, ultimately deciding on a pair of tear-away jeans, white tank top, tool belt, fake sledgehammer made out of foam, work gloves, and a construction helmet for his upcoming solo. Checking the time, he started pulling the costume on.
It was surprising how many of the costumes he’d managed to wear since he’d started working at the club a week ago. He’d have to start cycling back through them soon. Hopefully by the time that happened, they’d be close to wrapping the investigation up.
They’d gathered more intel from Jesse’s phone, confirming that he was in contact with the Sheriff as well as two key Desperado members. The meet with the supplier was going down tomorrow at noon, so now that they had a date, time and location, he and Brooke planned to observe from a distance to see what more they could learn.
He hadn’t had as much luck actually infiltrating the dealers, though. He and Jesse had gone out for beers on Monday, two nights ago, but so far he hadn’t made any progress. Jesse had never mentioned Tantrik to him, despite having sold some to Brooke, who he now thought Sawyer was dating.
A loud screaming cheer rose up from the audience, and Sawyer gave himself a final once-over in the mirror, knowing he was up next. Shawn gave him a high-five as he came offstage, his thong stuffed with ones and fives. Patrick poked his head backstage to see what costume Sawyer had chosen, then winked at him before heading back out.
