Arresting Desires (Lexie Sarcone Romance Series) (3 page)

My balance was off and it had a direct line to my unsettled stomach.
Michael gently lifted me into his arms and carried me up the stairs to my apartment before setting me carefully down in my own bed.

“You need to rest, but you also need to eat something.”
I was too nauseous to think about food. I smelled like a distillery, and the odor of the tequila and the whiskey weren’t helping. “I’ll be right back. Stay put.” He went into the kitchen, looking for something I could eat.

While he was gone, I eased myself off the bed and gripped the edge of my dresser.
I wanted to get out of my clothes and into something that hadn’t been fermented. After managing to unbutton my shirt, I realized I was sticky with dried liquor and blood. I was covered in dozens of tiny scratches and nicks from the broken glass that had been on the floor. Maybe I could take a quick shower. I made my way to the bathroom, realizing I physically wouldn’t be able to stand long enough to shower.

“
Lexie,” Michael said from behind, “easy.” He realized my intention and turned the water on, plugging the drain.

“I’ve got it,” I insisted.
“I’m not an invalid.” I hated feeling helpless, and I despised the thought of someone having to take care of me, particularly Michael.

“No, but you have a dozen stitches that can’t get wet.”

“Stitches?
” I brushed my hair out of my face and felt the bandage covering the gash from where I’d been hit with the bottle. “Dammit.”

Giving up the losing battle, I let Michael take over.
He carefully washed my hair, making sure not to get the bandage wet, and rinsed off all the remnants from my attack. Grabbing the largest, plushest towel he could find in the linen closet, he wrapped it around me and carried me back into the bedroom.

“I’m going to make you some soup,” he insi
sted, leaving me to get dressed. At least I could dress myself. After pulling on some underwear and an oversized t-shirt, I eased back into bed. My head was pounding, and I was getting sleepy. “Here,” he said, having reappeared while my eyes were closed, “take these and try to eat a little something.” I swallowed the two pills, and took the offered cup of soup, taking a long sip. I managed to get half of it down before my stomach protested and I pushed it away.

I leaned back against the stack of pillows, hurt, exhausted, and enraged by everything that had happened.
Silently, Michael unholstered his gun. He was still dressed for work, and I realized he must have gone straight to the hospital from the precinct. Taking off the handcuffs, badge, and his button-up shirt, he kicked off his shoes and got into bed next to me.

“Michael,” I whispered to him in the dark, “when that
guy grabbed me, I was so scared.” Carefully, he put his arm around my shoulders, trying his best not to jostle my body in any way. “Maybe I’m not cut out to be a cop.”

“
Lexie, you didn’t do anything wrong. Kemper screwed up.” His posture went rigid next to me. “Things like this aren’t supposed to happen because your partner should always have your back.” He pressed his lips gently against my temple. “You need to get off the street and away from these fucking yahoos that didn’t learn a goddamn thing in the Academy.” I nestled against him and waited for the constant pain to turn into a dull ache so I could drift off to sleep, safe and protected by the man I love.

~*~

The next morning, there was loud banging against my door. I moaned and tried to hide under the pillow. “Make it stop,” I whined. The Tylenol from the night before had worn off and my headache was back with a vengeance. Michael got out of bed, shut my bedroom door, and continued to the front door.

“You son-of-a-bitch,” I heard Michael snarl from the living room.
“What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” I second voice replied, sounding intimidated.
“I didn’t think…”

“That’s right, you didn’t think,” Michael retorted.
I heard a loud bang that reverberated inside my skull. “Don’t you ever do anything that fucking stupid again.” The bang sounded again. “Do you understand?”

“Ye-
ye-yes, sir,” the voice responded, and I realized it was Kemper.

“I should knock you upside your freaking head with a bottle to see how you like it,” Michael threatened, “but you’d probably be too stupid to remember this conversation if I did.”
Attempting to steel my body against the pain, I needed to get out to the living room before Michael killed Kemper. But before I could, my front door slammed shut.

“Michael,” I whispered as he opened the bedroom door, afraid the timber of my own voice would be too loud in my ears, “what happened?”

“Nothing. Kemper says he hopes you feel better, but he had to go.” Michael saw the pained expression on my face. “I’ll get you some medicine.” When he came back, I noticed his swollen hand.

“Did you hit him?” I asked, swallowing
the pills.

“Just once.
Mostly, I knocked him against the wall.” That explained the rattling, banging sound. “He’s lucky. I wanted to do much worse.” Something crossed over his chiseled features. It was dark and frightening. I had never seen that look before, and he focused his eyes on the light peeking through the side of the drapes. “Is that going to bother you?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said hesitantly, trying to decipher what I had seen.

“Okay, if it does, let me know.” He sat on the edge of the bed, putting on his shirt and finding his shoes.
“I’m going to pick up some supplies, but only if you can manage for the next hour by yourself.”

“I’m okay.”

He leaned back and gingerly brushed his fingers against the bandage that ran from my temple down my neck.
I hadn’t looked in the mirror and didn’t know how bad it was or if I would forever be sidled with an awful scar. Right now, I couldn’t focus my thoughts enough to care. He dropped his hand and reached for my cell phone, putting it on the bed next to me.

“If you start to feel worse or need me, I’ll race back here,” he promised.

“Thanks,” I sighed, flopping back against the pillow.

“I love you,” he whispered before leaving my bedroom.

~*~

I woke up to the throbbing in my head.
This felt like the worst hangover in the history of the universe but without the fringe benefits of being happily intoxicated the night before. Blinking a few times, I was relieved that the room was stable and the light that was coming through the drapes wasn’t painful or blinding. I actually was starting to feel better.

“That concussion’s taken a lot out of you,” Michael whispered, and I turned on my side to face him.
“You’ve slept all day.” Something seemed different about him. “It’s good. The doctors said you need lots of rest.”

Reaching up, I pressed my fingers against a cut on his cheek.
“What happened?”

“Nothing,” he said, taking my hand in his.
His knuckles were bruised and swollen.

“Did you kill Kemper?” I asked, sounding horrified.

He snorted and let out a resounding laugh.
“No.” His eyes sparkled with mirth at my own stupidity. At least I had a great excuse this time; I was suffering from a blow to the head. I gave him a questioning look. “On my way back here from my apartment, I stopped by the precinct to see if they had caught the guys that attacked you.” He looked away, unsure if he should admit anything else. “I read the case file and Kemper’s report. Then I went and had a talk with that storekeeper, and we went for a ride.”

“How’d you know where to look?”
I asked. The story wasn’t making much sense, but that might have had more to do with my impaired mental state than Michael’s storytelling.

“Because I’m great at detecting things.
It says so on my badge,” he teased. “Anyway, the store owner recognized the three bastards. I called it in and subdued them until back-up could arrive.” He had tracked down the guys that hurt me and beat the shit out of them. “They can’t hurt you again, Lexie. I’ve made sure of that.”

“You should ice your hand,” I mumbled, snuggling against him.
My nice guy was a badass, and I loved it.

“Nah, it feels…cathartic.”
He kissed me gently and eased me back against his pillow before getting out of bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.
Maybe a little hot and bothered,” I raised an eyebrow suggestively, “but I won’t turn down another round of Tylenol.”

“I’
ll bring you a couple of pills and some dinner.”

“This sucks,” I pouted.
I was on sick leave from work, and Michael was either suspended or using his personal days to take care of me. I wasn’t sure which was accurate since he refused to give me a straight answer when I asked. “First, we couldn’t make plans for Valentine’s Day because we were working and I was supposed to be taking the detective’s exam, and now, we’re together but,” I wriggled against him suggestively, “I can’t convince you to touch me.”

“The doctor said no physical exertion until after you have the stitches removed.”
He brushed his lips against mine. “And trust me when I say the only thing I want to do is touch you,” he growled, his voice filled with desire as the fire burned inside his piercing blue eyes. “But it’s more important that you get better first.”

“But I am feeling better,” I replied petulantly.
He gave me a yeah, right look. “Seriously, I am. The headache still comes and goes, but everything else is back to normal.” Giving up against his stubborn, unyielding nature, I edged my pillow closer to him and settled down in the soft bedding.

“The stitches come out Friday,” he remarked, “so depending on how you’re feeling and what the medical
professionals say, why don’t we reschedule Valentine’s Day for Saturday. This week made it one month since that night at the precinct,” his eyes danced at the recollection, “so we’ll do something special.”

“Oh yeah?”
I challenged.

“Moderately special,” he reconfirmed.
“And don’t spread it around that I’m a nice guy, Sarcone, you’ll ruin my street cred.”

“Whatever you say
, Detective Riley,” I cooed, resting my head against his chest as he absently played with my hair.

~*~

Friday, Michael had wanted to go with me when I had the stitches taken out, but the lieutenant called and needed him to stop by the precinct. I wondered if it had anything to do with the guys he assaulted, but he didn’t offer an explanation and I didn’t ask. The day before, a couple guys from IA had stopped by my apartment to ask questions about the night I was attacked. I hated having to explain what happened, but they just wanted verification of Kemper’s story. Apparently, my idiot partner was man enough to admit to his mistake.

Arriving home with a clean bill of health, I hopped in the shower, glad to be free to wash my hair and lather up without risk of wetting my bandage.
The bottle had cut into my skin, just below my temple, and traveled all the way down my face to the top of my neck. The dark pink line was clearly visible with my hair back, but at least it was close enough to my hairline that I could conceal it. I just hoped it would eventually go away.

Even though Michael had wanted us to wait to celebrate until tomorrow, spending a week in such close proximity to him had made me horny and aching for him.
Devising a mischievous plan, I waited for him to come home, planning out all the little details in my mind. Thankfully, I actually had the energy and brain power to stay focused.

He unlocked my apartment door and came inside.
I was sitting in the living room, watching tv, dressed casually in sweats. After telling him what the doctor said and eating dinner together, he went to shower. I snuck into the bathroom and stole his clothes, then I went back into my bedroom, stripped out of my sweats, slipped into nothing except the see-through lace bra, and laid back against the mattress.

Spreading my legs, the first thing he would see when he entered my bedroom was my exposed womanhood.
Hopefully, my inviting folds would be enough to convince him we should celebrate a day early. As I waited for him, the brazenness of my posture and the promises it held were turning me on. I was already starting to get heated and damp.

“
Lexie, have you seen my clothes?” he called, coming into my bedroom with nothing but the towel around his waist. Immediately, his eyes found my glistening slit, and he licked his lips. Slowly, sensually, his eyes traveled upward, appreciating my body before meeting my eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice was hoarse.

“Just don’t bang my head against the headboard.” I smirked.

He dropped the towel, and I gazed longingly at his burning blue eyes, dark with desire.
He had a strong jawline with just the perfect amount of scruff, and his body was sinewy and toned. He dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed, and beginning at my ankles, he slowly ran his hands up my legs, to my bent knees, and down my thighs. He pressed his forearms against my inner thighs, pushing my legs farther apart as his hands locked onto the two ridges of my pelvic bone.

Without another word, he placed his mouth on my opening, pulling at my folds gently with his teeth.
A moan escaped my lips, and I watched through my lashes as he ran his tongue against my mound. Swirling and sucking as desire flooded to my molten core. His tongue flicked inside of me, probing and tasting as he began lapping up my juices.

My hips tried to buck, but his hands held me firmly against the bed and his arms made sure my le
gs left me opened to him. With each flick of his tongue inside of me, I felt my body convulse. My hands fisted in the sheets, and I mewled in pleasure at the slow, endlessly delicious torment. With a final flick, he withdrew his tongue, stopping momentarily to gently suck my clit into his mouth causing a delightful shudder and gasp to escape my lips. His eyes met mine, and he smirked, sexy and in control.

He continued kissing up my
body, worshipping every inch, until he got to my lace-covered breasts. Grabbing a condom off the night table, he sheathed himself before latching on to my left breast. I arched into him, and as my body turned into a tightly strung bow, he entered me in one swift stroke. Surprised by the sudden penetration, I gasped.

He lifted me off the mattress and onto his lap, so I was sitting astride him with
his cock nestled deep inside of me. His thrusts moved in time with his mouth. Never pulling out but only pushing in. Deeper and deeper. The sensations were too much for me to bear, and I was climbing too fast to stop or delay the build-up. Dropping my head to his shoulder, I cried out as the orgasm wracked my body. He grunted as my muscles clenched around him. “Oh, Michael,” I moaned as the pleasure threatened to become too much.

Unclasping my b
ra, he pulled it free of my arms, laving his tongue against my taut rosy peaks as he flipped our positions. He pressed my back into the mattress and pounded into me in long, powerful, strokes. He continued to piston inside of me, penetrating deeper and deeper as my first climax neared completion and a second one began to build at an unbelievably frenzied pace. Cascading over the brink, fireworks exploded behind my eyelids as I heard Michael’s strangled cry. He pulled out of me and removed the cum-filled condom before burying his face against my neck. I felt his hard cock slowly begin to soften against my thigh as we both slipped into blissful unconsciousness.     

~*~

Waking up, it was early morning. The sky was just beginning to lighten, but the sun wasn’t up yet. Michael was mumbling in his sleep. Covered in nothing but the thin sheet, I couldn’t help but notice his hard-on. The concept of morning wood always surprised me, and I wondered if women also got aroused during the course of the night, then I remembered my wet dream and blushed.

I studied the man next to me.
So peaceful and strong. Safe, caring, and protective. How did I get so lucky? He let out a contented sigh and curled closer to me, kneading my breast in his sleep. Getting a wicked idea and hoping for a favorable reaction, I considered going down on him, but my head was still too foggy and all the bobbing didn’t seem like a great idea for my post-concussion brain. Instead, I carefully pulled the sheet away from him, opening one of the foil packets from the nightstand and gently rolling the latex down his erection.

He groaned and thrust but didn’t open his eyes.
Feeling courageous, I climbed over his body and impaled myself on his hardened member. He moaned again. Feeling empowered and brazen, I grinded against him, moving my hips in a slow circle, feeling him hit all my walls and sensitive spots. As I loosened up around the rock-hard intrusion, I threw my head back and began to ride him. The thought that I had mounted him and was hoping to get us both off encouraged my building arousal, and I slid up and down along his length with increased vigor.

I felt his hands find
my hips and then move slowly up my stomach. Momentarily, I stopped moving and stared at him. Afraid he wouldn’t welcome the intrusion. Instead, he smiled sleepily at me. “I’d like to wake up like this every morning,” he whispered.

“Me too,” I cooed as his hands came to rest against my ribs and I continued to
gyrate and bounce on top of him, hearing his balls slapping against my slick, wet twat with every downward slide. When the angle proved to be lacking, I leaned forward and ground more urgently against him. A faint murmur escaped his lips, and I knew he was getting closer. Sensing that I wasn’t ready, he dropped his hand to my clit and rubbed two fingers against me.

“Come on,
Lexie,” he urged, alternating the pressure and pace of his fingers. “You’ve made me so fucking hot I’m going to explode. My balls are tight and,” he bit down trying to delay his climax, “come for me, baby.” He squeezed my clit just as I felt his throbbing cock, twitch inside of me. I followed him over the edge and collapsed on his chest, aware of every twitch and spasm his dick released as he shot his load into the latex barrier.

I remained sprawled against
his chest, sated and exhausted. Before I could drift off, I felt him pull out of me. Without disturbing my position, he cleaned himself off and pulled the blanket around us.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered as he let
me fall fast asleep on top of him.