“Marina,” I groan, matching her need with my own.
A light turns on, slowly breaking its way through our fog. Reluctantly stepping back from her heated body, I watch as she licks her lips, savoring the taste of me on her tongue. Smirking, I take the keys from her hand and open the security door for her. She turns to me, intending to say goodnight, I’m sure, but I follow her in.
Climbing the stairs to the third floor, I’m not impressed with the lack of lighting in the stairwell and hallways. “Is it always this dark in here?” I gaze around, seeking out any spots that could turn potentially dangerous for her.
“Umm, I suppose. I’m not normally out this late.” I don’t know whether to be happy about her admission or sad for her.
“I don’t like it,” I grunt.
She laughs. “I couldn’t tell.”
Following her to the third door on the right, I hear shuffling from the entranceway across the hall, and my displeasure grows higher. I officially hate this fucking building.
Marina opens her door, and I get a quick look inside to see she lives in a small apartment not fit for someone like her. She deserves to have everything she can imagine.
“Arsen?” Her voice draws my attention. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine.” I don’t know how to tell her I’d rather that she come home with me without sounding like a control freak. “I’ll pick you up for lunch,” I say instead.
She nods as she steps over the threshold. “Goodnight, Arsen.” When she goes to close the door, I stop her.
Gripping the back of her head, I lay a deep kiss on her soft mouth, insuring that she thinks about me all night. Sweeping my tongue into her surprised mouth, it dances with hers. I’m enjoying each little mewl of delight as she catches her breath when I pull away.
“Goodnight, Marina,” I whisper against her pliant lips. “Lock the door.”
“Okay,” she breaths out.
I can’t suppress the smirk forming on my lips as she closes it, knowing I did that to her. I don’t leave until I hear the deadbolt slide into place. “Good girl,” I utter walking away.
Leaving Marina isn’t what I want to do, but more what I need to do for her. I get the sense she’s got some demons she’s hiding, and in order for me to help her heal, I need to earn her trust first.
Patience has never been one of my stronger suits. My younger brother Kol and I were always getting into trouble because of our need to get shit done. Thankfully, our parents had the patience of
saints. Ember, our sister, was an angel. Always quiet. I don’t know how she survived growing up with us. I think the significant age difference was the buffer.
With one last look towards Marina’s building, I pull away from the curb, regret burning a hole in my gut. I have no desire to be more than a foot away from my girl. The possessive feelings I’m having towards her are so unreal but feel so right. I like that she’s consuming me. Driving me to want more.
Instead of going home, I head into the precinct to finish up some case reports so I can have my entire weekend dedicated to Marina before she leaves for her parents’.
“Daniels,” the desk Sergeant greets me, “what the hell are you doing here?”
I can’t help my grin. “Got a busy weekend planned. Figured I’d get some paperwork done, so the boss isn’t hounding my ass.” Laughter follows me because he knows our captain will be all over me if I didn’t get shit on his desk bright and fucking early come Monday morning.
“Rod?” Now, this I am surprised about. My partner’s wife is expecting their first child, and he always wants to be at home.
“Hey, man.” He doesn’t look up from whatever is on his computer screen.
“What are you doing here, man?” I sit across from him. When we parted ways this afternoon, we had no active cases demanding our attention, and there have been no calls, so I know something’s up.
“Em isn’t herself. She’s moody and cranky, and I can’t get a moments peace.” He doesn’t sound like he minds any of it.
“So, what’s the problem?”
He does look at me then. “Her.” His scowl makes me laugh. “She’s pissed off at herself for being so bitchy—her words, not mine—and she kicked me out for the evening. Told me to go do guy things.” His expression deepens.
“This”—I wave my hand around the empty room—“isn’t exactly guy things.”
“No shit, Sherlock. But what the fuck else am I supposed to do? I don’t want to do guy things, they aren’t as fun as…well, let’s just say, pregnant sex is way better than we’re led to believe.”