My heart is hammering in my chest. The feeling I have inside of me this time is far from shame. It’s love.
Bright, shining love.
I giggle against his lips. “You’d better.”
I bend and peer inside the fridge.
“There’s nothing to eat at all. We should’ve got milk on the way home from the airport last night.” I frown.
Brock puts his hands around my waist and kisses my neck from behind. “We’ll stop on the way to work and get something, plus a coffee.”
I slam the fridge shut in disgust. “I’m going to have to go grocery shopping for us tonight.” I sigh. “Great. Just like that, reality bites.”
He turns me in his arms and smiles down at me. “I like that you have to go grocery shopping for us tonight.” His hands snake down to my behind and he squeezes me firmly.
I put my arms around his neck and kiss his big lips. “You’re easily pleased, Mr. Marx.”
He kisses me again. “What? Isn’t a man allowed to like his woman barefoot in his kitchen?”
I giggle. “The phrase is barefoot and pregnant, and I can assure you, that is not happening at any time soon.”
He smiles down at me, as if knowing a secret.
“What?” I ask.
“Move in with me.”
My face falls. “What?”
“Move in with me, here. We’ve slept in the same house every night since we’ve been together anyway. What’s the difference?” He shrugs. “It just means your things will be kept here.”
“Brock, we’ve been together for, like, a month.” I frown.
“So?”
“You don’t even know everything about me.” I gasp.
He grabs my behind and grinds me against his pelvis. “I know all I need to know.”
“Brock.” I shake my head and pull out of his arms. “You don’t just move in with someone because you have declared your love to them.”
“I do,” he snaps, obviously annoyed that I’m not jumping at the chance.
“You don’t even know my family,” I say as I put my hands on my hips.
“Then organise for me to get to know your family.” He begins to slam around the kitchen cupboards looking for something. I watch him, knowing he’s annoyed that I’m not jumping at the chance.
“You seriously want me to move in here?” I frown.
He rolls his eyes. “Do you listen to anything I fucking say at all, woman? Yes, I want you to move in with me.”
“Why? What’s the rush?”
He takes me in his arms. “Why wait? I love you, you love me, and we’re going to end up living together anyway. So why would you pay rent for your apartment when you are staying here every night, anyway?”
I smile up at him. He looks so hopeful and in love as he waits for my answer.
“You told me you wouldn’t hold yourself back from me, Tully,” he says softly. “Isn’t that what you’re doing by not moving in with me?”
I walk back to him and take his lips with mine. He’s right, I did say that. Maybe I am holding back. And maybe this is the most stupid fucking thing I have ever done.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay?” he asks, surprised I’ve given in so easily.
“Okay, but I’m not cancelling my lease just yet. I’m keeping my apartment for a while so we can get used to each other. We can just move my stuff over gradually. Each time we go back to my house I’ll bring a few things over,” I say. “But…” I add. “You’re cooking and cleaning.”
He smiles mischievously. “I’m the operations manager, Pocket. I can only take care of physical activity. Anything other than that is out of my jurisdiction.”
I raise my brows. “Oh, is that right?” I smile. “And what do I do in this house?”
He squeezes my behind and pulls me onto his hard, waiting dick. “Well, you’re the boss.”
I drop my mouth open, feigning shock. “Are you finally admitting that I’m the boss of us?”
“You’re the boss of the house,” he corrects me calmly.
“And as the boss of the house, what exactly do I need to do?”
“Just wear your uniform.”
“My uniform?” I smile.
“Your uniform is. Naked.”
I giggle as he walks me backwards and pins me to the fridge.
“Cook naked, clean naked, watch television naked, molest the operations manager while naked.”
I laugh again, and then fall serious. “Brock?” I whisper.
“Yeah, Pock,” he replies, distracted as he begins to grind himself against me.
“You need to put your dick away and get me some breakfast before I hurt you.”
He chuckles. “Yes, boss.”
Brock
I sit back in my chair and stare at the girl across the table from us. I exhale heavily, wishing I was back in Hawaii with my girl.
The woman we’re interviewing has long, naturally blonde hair, and she has a definite confident air about her. Her legs are long and athletic, and she’s wearing a next-to-nothing floral summer dress. She’s definitely sexy as fuck, and someone that would probably have peaked my interest in the past. Why the fuck she would suck cock for money is beyond me.
Ben is taking notes, and Jesten is back at the office. It was too much having three of us here with her.
“So, when was the last time you saw Peachy Sue?” I ask.
We are in a café and this girl was one of Peachy Sue’s known friends.
She lights up a cigarette and blows it out, trying to be sexy. Her dark eyes hold mine. I know that look. I roll my lips and stare at her. Why do women do this? Why do they purposely try to turn you on so that they can gain control of a conversation?
“You going to keep looking at me like you want to fuck me, or are you going to answer my fucking questions?” I breathe.
She smiles, licks her lips then takes another drag from her cigarette. “Do you get that often?” she asks, exhaling a thin stream of smoke above our heads. “Do you have girls begging to suck your cock? Is it big?”
I stay silent as I watch her. I’m not playing her fucking games.
Ben licks his bottom lip as he watches her, also unrattled.
She begins to look at her long red nails, feigning boredom.
I lean into the table. “Here’s the thing,” I say firmly. “Somebody is killing girls just like you, and you…” I pause, “could be next. I’m here to help you. So. Start. Fucking. Talking.”
She glances between the two of us. “What will it take for you to protect me?”
I stare at her.
“I can satisfy the two of you more any other woman ever could.”
Ben and I look at one another, and then I turn my attention back to her.
“You can do me together. We could meet up a few times a week. No payment, all you need to do is protect me. I love double penetration,” she admits darkly.
I exhale heavily. She’s scared, and the fact that she offered what she offered means she already does it.
“Who do you already satisfy to protect you, Mia?” I ask.
She swallows the lump in her throat.
“You’re a high-end working girl. You don’t need this shit. Two-thousand dollars for two hours? You don’t give away that kind of service for nothing,” Ben says.
“Don’t judge me,” she whispers. “I do what I have to do.”
“Exactly, and society needs women like you,” I tell her calmly. “We appreciate what you do.”
She smiles to herself, thinking I’m going to try and make a deal with her.
“But here’s the thing: I really don’t want to fuck you,” I add.
She tilts her chin in annoyance.
“I want to protect you.” I lean into the table. “You don’t have to suck my cock.”
Her eyes darken, and she licks her lips. “Maybe I want to.”
Ben bites his bottom lip and I know he’s trying not to smirk.
“Tell me what you know and you’ll be protected,” I tell her, ignoring her last comment.
“You can’t protect me from them. They’ll kill all twenty of us eventually”
“Who?”
She leans into the table. “You’re so fucking stupid,” she whispers angrily. “You don’t get it. This is coming from the inside.”
I watch her.
“Someone in prison?” Ben asks.
“Who are the twenty?” I ask.
She shakes her head in disgust and begins to stand.
“Give me a name. What does he have on you, or what do you have on him?”
“They use us as if we’re their personal sex slaves.”
“Who?” I ask.
“They promise us protection if we do what they want,” she whispers angrily. “But our girls are still dying.”
“Who?” I whisper.
She takes a drag of her cigarette and rubs her fingers together as she looks at us.
“We aren’t the cops, Mia. We’re ex-military. We’ve been hired by Henrietta Jones’ mother to bring her killer to justice, whoever the fuck that may be. Give me a place or a name and we can help you.”
She looks around the café, guilt and fear crippling her facade.
Ben passes her his pen and notepad. “Write it down.”