Page 7 of Her Only Hero

“This drink is excellent. Tastes like white grapes.” He swirled the ice cubes, apparently oblivious to my “distress.” “The pulp pieces are most interesting.” He drank the rest and then licked his lips. His tongue seemed to move in slow motion. “Would you like to sit with me, and tell me what you remember from today? June?”

I was staring. What was wrong with me? The day’s events must have had adverse effects. “Um, is it okay if we do this tomorrow?”

“Of course. I won’t pressure you about the case any further. And thank you for the drink.” He put the glass on the counter and caught me gazing at him again. What must he be thinking? My words and actions weren’t jiving. His eyes held me spellbound. I wanted to bolt, but my legs wouldn’t budge. He stepped closer and touched his lips to mine. He kissed me gently, perfectly. His lips enveloped mine. His kiss enveloped my senses.

His arms lured me into his embrace. An all-encompassing magnetic pull wanted to fuse us. I clung to reason and brought my hands to his chest and broke the bond.

Patrick looked at me with dilated pupils. He, too, appeared breathless. His usual calm expression had been replaced with one of pain? Did I look that way too?

“Too fast?” he asked in a husky voice.

Torn between body and mind, I didn’t know how to respond. As cliché as it sounded, I couldn’t survive the heartbreak of another failed relationship. The last one had hurt too much and even changed me. I had to protect myself because in reality, most relationships ended in destruction. But standing here, I ached for him.

When I didn’t respond, Patrick lowered his head and backed away. He was halfway out of the apartment when I called out.

“Don’t go.”

He froze.

The next move was mine. I walked over to him, arched up, and pressed my lips to his, reigniting the wick. He placed a hand behind my neck and gently cradled my head as the kiss deepened. But then I stepped back, again. His jaw clenched, and it looked like he struggled for composure.

“Shit, June. What are you trying to do?”

He had no clue of the tug-of-war raging inside of me. I wanted to be with him, but complete intimacy could lead tooverwhelming hurt. I remembered a caption I had read, and believed there was truth to it.

A loveless touch could scar your soul.

Maybe there was a way to keep things somewhat detached. I’d have to try something I’d never done before and remove the personal element of his touch. Without the element of touch, there couldn’t be a complete chemical reaction.

I lowered my eyes and glanced at Patrick’s utility belt. Various nylon pouches and holsters held pepper spray, a flashlight, and a gun. Then I zeroed in on the handcuffs. I unsnapped them from his belt, turning them in my hand. He crooked an eyebrow. With shaky hands, I maneuvered one end of the cuffs and clasped it around one of his wrists.

“I don’t get it—” he said.

“Shh,” I said and pulled him by the short chain to the bedroom.

Chapter Four

My heart beat at a wild cadence as Patrick followed my lead into the bedroom. I flicked on the ceiling fan to stir the sweltering air. I didn’t look back at him, afraid I’d lose the focus, and the courage to continue. Moonlight filtered in through the tall rectangular window and illuminated our path. The blue hue added an atmospheric component to this surreal moment.

I stacked a couple of pillows at the head of the bed and stood out of his reach as he obediently sat and reclined. He made my bed look small. I’d been alone for so long, and then suddenly I wasn’t. I hesitated as my plan of seduction became riddled with doubt. I felt like a fool for trying to pull this off. I drifted back a step, and my mind raced for an escape from this self-inflicted humiliation.

Patrick propped himself onto an elbow.

“I’m sorry,” I uttered. “I’ll unlock the handcuffs.”

“I want you, June,” Patrick said. “Anyway. Anyhow.”

I moved no farther. He wanted me. Trusted me. What cop would allow this? And he was here for me in any way I chose. I’d never been attracted to anyone more. Maybe the drama from this evening contributed to my heightened feelings and desire, but I didn’t care. Was I behaving irrationally? It didn’t matter. I didn’t want to assess my thoughts and actions anymore. Maybe tomorrow, because tonight I wanted to feel.

My hands trembled as I guided Patrick’s arms over his head and cuffed his wrists to the open-frame iron headboard. Secured, he couldn’t touch me, and if he couldn’t touch me, he wouldn’t be able to hurt me. We were distanced just enough for my heart to not be fully engulfed in the fire of love, which could burn so hot and scorch so painfully.

In the celestial light, he looked at me. He didn’t say a word. He no doubt found himself in uncertain territory. But then again, so did I.

I unbuttoned his shirt, and my pulse sped up. I’d never undressed a man before. When I finished unfastening them all, I pulled his shirt open and exposed his defined chest and flat, taut abdomen. All the time I’d known him, I did not know the physical perfection he’d been hiding.

I trailed a hand across his chest, down his midriff, and lower to the area where his pants confined him. A throaty sound escaped from his mouth as he pressed back into the pillow.

Rational thoughts receded as sensory receptors amplified. My core became molten. Basic carnal need took control of my body and mind. I undid his belt. He arched to allow me to lower his trousers. My breath caught. In the blue shadows, I boldly removed my top and tossed it aside and then shimmied out of my pants. From under heavy lids, he watched. I’d never been this immodest, brazenly undressing in front of anyone, let alone a man I’d never been intimate with before.

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