Where the Truth Lives, Page 3

  She widened her eyes. “Ah. And when are you given these rules? Kindergarten, I suppose?”

  “No, not that early. We call them commandments, emphasis on man, and they’re given to us in a secret ceremony when we come of age.”

  She grimaced at his bad pun, but amusement danced in her eyes. “Oh, I see. A ceremony. Very official. I’m assuming there’s lots of chest beating and—”

  “Foul bodily noises, grunting—”

  “Ball scratching?”

  Reed laughed. “There’s not an itchy ball in the place when all is said and done. How did you know?” He raised a brow. “Did you somehow discover the underground bunker where the ceremony’s performed and sneak in to watch?”

  “No, no. Just a shot in the dark. I’m assuming you weren’t supposed to tell me about this secret ceremony though. Should I fear for my life now?”

  He shook his head. “Being that you’re a self-professed psycho, I don’t think anyone will believe you.”

  She laughed and he grinned, their gazes snagging, energy buzzing between them. Unseen sparks igniting in the air. God, it felt good. It made him feel alive, focused. He hadn’t been pulled to a woman like this in a long time, maybe ever, and he relished the feeling. Let himself fall into it.

  Someone behind them let out a loud scream and the blonde next to him startled. They both looked back to see a young woman throwing her arms around a friend in a drunken greeting. They turned back to each other, and the blonde started to stand. Disappointment gripped him as did a vague sense of panic. She’s leaving. He stood back to give her room, his mind grasping at what he might say to either make her stay, or cement a way to see her again. Ask for her number. I should ask for her number. But she spoke before he could. “Let’s get out of here, Spence.”

  His mind went momentarily blank. “Uh. Okay. Yeah.” He set his beer down on the bar. “There’s a coffee shop up the street that—”

  She pulled on a leather jacket hung on the back of her bar stool and swung her purse over her shoulder. “I don’t want coffee, Spence.” She turned, heading toward the door and he only paused for a moment before following. I don’t want coffee . . . They wove through the crowd, Reed’s mind spinning as he kept the blonde in his sight. This was the last thing he’d expected when he’d headed to the bar straight from work to celebrate his soon-to-be-married co-worker with a round or five of drinks.

  Just as the thought of DiCrescenzo passed through his head, the guy almost plowed into him. “You leaving, buddy?” he slurred.

  “Yeah. Ah . . .” The blonde moved between two men and out of his sight, and another frisson of panic buzzed inside him. He took DiCrescenzo’s hand in his. “I gotta head home. I’m happy for you, man. She’s a good woman.”

  DiCrescenzo nodded. “I really love her. That’s the best part, you know? I really losh . . .” He appeared confused for a moment. “I really losh hers.” He laughed, tipping slightly and Billings, another co-worker, came up beside DiCrescenzo and caught him before he wobbled over.

  “Whoa there, big guy. You okay? We promised to get you home in one piece tonight.”

  “I gotta piss,” DiCrescenzo said.

  “I got ya, my man,” Billings said. “You leaving, Davies?”

  Reed turned toward the door again but there was no sign of the woman. “Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded to DiCrescenzo. “Make sure he gets home safe?”

  “You know it.”

  Reed turned in the other direction as Billings led a stumbling DiCrescenzo toward the men’s room. He wove around the people blocking his way, pushing the door open and stepping out into the cool night air. He looked left and right but didn’t immediately spot the woman. But then he saw a flash of golden hair and realized she was ducking into a black SUV down the block. He walked toward it, unsure now. He had no read on this situation, was completely out of his element, truth be told.

  “Are you coming?” the woman called from the open back door of the vehicle. She’d ordered an Uber. That must have been what she was typing into her phone at the bar. That had only been a minute after they’d started chatting, though. When had she decided to ask him to leave with her? Reed hesitated for only a moment before jogging toward the car. He climbed inside and closed the door as the car pulled away from the curb.

  “What’s your address?” she asked.

  Reed hesitated but then gave the address of his apartment in downtown Cincinnati, an historic building that had been turned into condos, only five minutes away. The woman leaned forward, addressing the driver. “Can you take us to that address?”

  The driver nodded, repeating the address, and typing it into his GPS. She sat back, scooting next to Reed and leaning toward him. There was a brief second where their eyes met in the dim light of the vehicle and he swore he saw uncertainty move over her features. But before he could be sure it wasn’t just a trick of the light, she was pressing her lips to his and his mind went blank. He opened to her. It wasn’t even a choice—almost instinct—as if he’d been built to innately respond to her, and she slid her tongue between his lips. She kissed him almost tentatively at first, and then with growing hunger as he met her tongue with his own, the kiss going deeper, spiraling dizzily.

  “Are you drunk?” she asked breathily against his mouth when they came up for air.

  Am I? Fuck, he felt drunk. Only, no. It was like being drunk, only without the bleariness. “No,” he said, and he had the odd sense that it wasn’t the answer she was hoping for.

  The Uber came to a stop and when he glanced up, he saw they were in front of his building. She opened the door, and he followed her out of the car, nodding thanks at the obviously embarrassed driver on his way out. “Have fun,” the young guy said, smirking as Reed closed the door.

  Reed took the woman’s hand as he led her toward his building, keying in his code and leading her to the open elevator. The door slid closed behind them and she took a step toward him, pressing her body against his as he stumbled backward against the wall. He smiled against her mouth. “Whoa,” he said, his words stolen by the warm press of her full lips. God, she tasted so good. Like warmth and wine, and some feminine sweetness he couldn’t describe any better than that. Blood pulsed in his groin. He wanted to slow down and speed up, and he really wanted to understand this woman and know what she was thinking.

  That’s stupid, Davies. Just enjoy this for whatever it might be.

  But that wasn’t him. He’d never gone home with a stranger from a bar. She ran her hand over his crotch, cupped him as she continued to lap at his tongue with hers, and he groaned from the pure pleasure of the moment. The intensity. The white-hot lust throbbing through his veins. And why? Why couldn’t this be him? Just for tonight. Just with her. He wanted a taste of her beautiful body. He wanted to see her, touch her. This perfect stranger who he desired so strongly, he ached.

  The elevator dinged, and they both startled, laughing as their mouths broke free, stumbling from the car. He reached in his pocket for his key, inserting it easily—thank God—into the keyhole and pushing open the door. She flipped the switch on the wall, flooding the hallway with light. He closed the door and their mouths met again, hands roaming, bodies pressing. Glorious.

  It had all happened so fast, he wondered distantly if he might be dreaming. He felt out of his body, out of his mind, and he grasped for control, to bring himself up from the depths of the place she’d led him, a place of pure sensation and nothing more.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.

  She expelled a breath on a smile as she shrugged her jacket off and let it fall to the floor. “No thanks. I’m good.”

  He leaned back slightly so he could look in her eyes.

  “Why this?” he murmured. “Why me?”

  Her eyes met his in the light of his small entryway. Her lips tipped though the smile from a moment ago had left her eyes. “Have you ever looked in a mirror?”

  He blew out a breath. He knew he was attractive. Why p
retend he didn’t? He’d be a shitty detective if he didn’t notice the looks women gave him, the opportunities that presented because of his face and nothing else. But he’d never used it to his advantage. Charles Hartsman had done that, and he admitted he had some hang-ups about the fact that he looked just like the devil who’d passed along his genes, but he shut those thoughts down for the moment. He offered her a slight smile. “There’s gotta be a better reason than that.”

  “Does there?” she asked. They stared at each other, and he couldn’t decipher what was in her gaze. Hope? Challenge? That uncertainty he thought he’d spotted in the Uber? Or were her eyes simply shining with the same desire that must be in his own? He tried to shrug off the disappointment her answer had elicited. He had hoped for more than that. Who are you?

  He leaned in and kissed her slowly, softly, bringing his hands to her hair and weaving them through. Silk. Just like I thought. Your hair feels like silk. It seemed as though she was tilting slightly, so he took his hands from her hair, reaching down and weaving his fingers through hers, holding her steady, trying to slow things down. She melted into him, the kiss going deeper, more intimate than the ones they’d shared in the Uber or the elevator. More intimate somehow because there were no hands involved. Just breath and lips and tongues, and the steady thumping of their hearts. When he pulled from her lips, he whispered hoarsely, “I want this to be more than just a sloppy hookup.”

  “Then let’s not make it sloppy.”

  “I mean, I’d like to know who you are.”

  Her eyes grew softer and she moved a piece of hair off his forehead. She started to say something and then changed her mind, leaning toward him again, their mouths meeting. A minute later she was pulling him down the hallway. “Which one?” she asked, and it took him a second to realize she was asking where his bedroom was.

  “Second door on the right.”

  Clothes came off as they moved toward his room, her shirt first as she fumbled with the small buttons, finally pulling it free, followed by his shirt, then her jeans falling to the floor and he stepped over them, entering his room. She flipped the light switch and closed the door behind them. When she glanced behind her, he cringed at the sight she was looking at: his unmade bed, sheets hanging onto the floor, pillows everywhere, clothes strewn haphazardly. “Sorry, I didn’t expect . . . this.” You. “We’ll just pretend you didn’t see that,” he said jokingly, flipping off the harsh overhead light.

  As the room plunged into darkness, she tensed in his arms, a small sound of distress coming from her throat. She reached for the switch and flipped it again, her expression strained and fearful in the sudden light. Reed frowned, caught off guard, but she shook her head, laughing softly as she leaned in and kissed him. “I want to see you,” she said, her voice a throaty whisper.

  He hesitated for a moment, but then turned and walked to his dresser where there was a small lamp. He clicked it on and then tilted the shade toward the wall so that there was just a hazy glow of dim, yellow light in the room. “Good?” he asked, when he returned to where she stood and flicked off the overhead light once again. She bobbed her head, offering him a smile, her gaze moving down his bare chest. She ran her hands over his pectorals, down his abs, causing him to hiss in a breath. Without meeting his gaze, she unbuttoned the top of his jeans and reached inside, stroking him, both of them watching as her thumb smeared the bead of liquid on his tip. He was helpless. Mindless. He’d do anything she asked of him. He groaned, reaching for her, but she moved backward, sitting on the edge of the bed and then lying back, her pale skin glowing with shifting shades of pearl and amber. She was offering her body to him. Every part. And something suddenly occurred to Reed. He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing slightly. “I don’t have any condoms.”

  She stared at him for a moment and then looked past him to the door of his bedroom. “My purse. It’s in the hall.”

  He nodded, walking from the room and retrieving her small purse from near the door. He brought it to her and she opened the snap, reaching in and retrieving a condom, and then tossing her purse on the floor. He watched her do all this from where he stood at the end of the bed, taking a moment to stare at her, to drink her in. So beautiful. He felt a snag in his chest. There was something vulnerable about her despite that she had initiated this, despite that she had obviously come prepared. What was it? He couldn’t say. Just this vague notion that he sometimes got when he was working a case. Something his instincts had noticed before his mind could provide an explanation. She was watching him watch her, and when their eyes met, she beckoned him with her hand, nodding to his jeans, nervousness skittering across her expression. He removed his jeans quickly, joining her where she lay, their naked skin meeting, warmth melding, atoms meshing.

  “What are you thinking?” he whispered when he joined her on the bed, kissing the swell of one breast, moving a finger over the white lace of her bra.

  She released a pleasured sigh. “I’m hoping you’re better at this than you are at dancing.”

  He laughed, but it turned into a moan when her hand gripped his erection, stroking it more fully. God, he could die of pleasure right here.

  He opened the front clasp on her bra, her breasts spilling free. Full. Beautiful. Rose-tipped nipples begging for his mouth. He’d shaved that morning, but he knew that if he reached up and felt his jaw, it’d be roughened with stubble. He ran it lightly over the sensitive skin of her breasts. She shivered, tipping her head into the pillow as she fisted the sheets and he soothed her with his mouth, kissing, sucking, switching between each breast until she was writhing beneath him.

  He slipped her underwear down her hips and she lifted so he could remove it swiftly and toss it onto the floor. He moved up her body, kissing her mouth once, and then leaning away as he dipped a finger between her legs, using the slippery liquid he found there to help his fingers glide slowly over the spot that caused her to gasp and moan and press toward his hand, seeking more. “Tell me your name,” he said.

  Her face was turned away from him, hair strewn across her cheek, bottom lip beneath her top teeth. A short tremble moved through her, and then she was turning her body, lifting, and he moved with her so she was on her knees and he was leaned over her. “Fuck me, Spence,” she breathed.

  He had a moment of pause. He wanted to look at her as they had sex. He wanted to watch her face. This first time at least. But he didn’t press the issue. They had all night and he was more concerned with giving her what she wanted. Anything she asked him for. He grabbed the condom from beside them and tore it open with his teeth, pulled it on. He leaned over her, molding his body to hers, his hardness pressed against the soft, wet place she was offering him. She moaned, arching her back. A request. Fuck me. “My name is Reed.”

  She moaned again. “Nice to meet you, Reed. Now fuck me.”

  He leaned back, watching as he pushed inside her slowly, his toes curling as her hot, slick body grasped his. “God, you feel good.” He grasped her hips as he started to move. Steadily. Slowly. The up-close visual of their joining added to the stimulation and his brain went fuzzy as sensations swirled and rolled inside him, overlapping, competing, merging, and then becoming separate. She grabbed hold of his headboard and thrust back against him, forcing him to pick up the speed and their sex turned wild. Primal. Skin slapping, sweat pooling, moans and gasps—his, hers, he didn’t know—mixing with the staccato creak of his bed frame. A symphony of fucking, each note driving them toward the crescendo. He reached forward, using his fingers to stimulate her from the front, slowing down so he could hold his orgasm at bay, stroking her to the beat of his thrusts, his finger slick with her juices.

  He didn’t want this to end. It was heaven. Pure, euphoric heaven.

  “Oh God,” she gasped, and he saw her knuckles turn white where they squeezed the headboard. “I’m going to come. I’m going to come,” she chanted. There was something in her voice he couldn’t identify with her faced away and his own pleasure rising and sp
iraling, peaking. Surprise? Wonder?

  She came with a guttural cry, letting go of the headboard and dropping to her elbows as she pressed her face into his pillow. And then he was coming with her, his whole body tensing as he pulled back and gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he came with a booming intensity that crashed over him, through him, like a tidal wave of bliss.

  They collapsed, Reed half on top of her, both panting harshly with the exertion. He slipped out of her and lifted himself up, nudged her over so they were facing each other. Their eyes met, and he got that sense of vulnerability again, though her eyes were sleepy with satisfaction, her lips tipped in a sweet smile. He pulled her into his chest and she tensed. For a second, her muscles seemed primed to flee, but he pulled her forward gently. “Shh,” he said. “Just for a minute. Let me just hold you for a minute.”

  Later, Reed woke, and she was still curled in his arms, warm and soft. He blinked at the clock and saw that it was after four. He tilted his head toward her, drawing in the scent of her hair. Lemons and fresh grass, with the underlying muskiness of their sex. Them. God, he liked it. It caused a pulse of desire to beat through him. She mewled softly in her sleep, pressing closer. His blood hummed lazily, and she made a sound in the back of her throat again, only this time it was deeper, richer, as though even in sleep, her body responded to the change in his. He rolled away, reaching for her purse on the floor and finding a condom just inside. He ripped it open, rolled back toward her, and she opened to him, her hand cupping the globe of his ass and pulling him in. They made love slowly this time, half-asleep, their eyes meeting in the dim glow of the muted lamplight. Their gazes held as their bodies rocked together gently, pleasure cresting, and it wasn’t only her body that was softer, but it was her eyes as well, something that hadn’t been there before, or perhaps something she hadn’t allowed him to see until just that moment.