Page 28 of Misadventures in Blue
Chapter Nine
Cat
I wake up still wrapped in Jace’s arms, with an almighty erection wedged against my bottom and soft snores in my ear.
The sun is bright and new, telling me it’s still fairly early, and the lack of any alarms chiming in the room reminds me that we both have the day off. I stretch my legs and arms and back as much as possible inside his giant bear hug, wonder if I could possibly doze back off, and then reluctantly concede that I’m awake for good now.
I pry myself free of his embrace and make to slide out of bed and investigate Jace’s coffee or tea options—but I’m immediately seized and hauled back against his big, sleepy body.
“No,” comes his half-awake growl. “Stay.”
“It’s morning, Jace.”
“It’s our day off.” His voice is petulant, adolescent even, and I roll over to look at him, to coax him awake, but I’m simply crushed back into his chest. I can feel the snores vibrate through him when he falls back asleep seconds later.
“Young man,” I whisper to myself, smiling a little. I manage to push away enough that I can stare at him—really stare at him—as he sleeps. At the adorable sprawl of his big body, the pout of his parted mouth, and the long eyelashes resting dreamily on his cheeks. All those handsome features, normally so severe, normally so stormy and scowly, are relaxed into a boyishly sweet expression in his sleep. He barely looks twenty-four like this, and you’d never guess he’s a cop or a former soldier. You’d never guess he’s known grief or fear or anger. That he’s haunted by the memories of war.
He looks gentle and dear and young. So young.
I try to get out of bed again, this time more because I need a moment to process my feelings. About this young man, about how tenderly and thoroughly he made love to me last night. About how he wanted to take care of me beyond sex and outside it, before he even knew what was wrong.
Do you…?
Yes.
Even now, I’m not sure exactly what he was going to say, but it didn’t matter. Whatever he wanted to know, the answer was yes.
This is skidding off the rails fast, Cat.
But I never do get a chance to process my feelings. I’m grabbed again, and this time Jace wakes up enough to put that massive erection to good use.
For two weeks, I am unbearably, abominably weak, and for two weeks, Jace and I fuck constantly.
And everywhere. We fuck everywhere.
At my place. At his place. Twice more in the station—after the brass went home this time. In his car, in my car, in the bathroom of an office building after interviewing a witness.
And every night as I fall asleep with his arms around me and his lips pressed to my neck, I think you have to stop this—you have to end this pointless fling because it’s going to hurt one or both of you. It’s unprofessional to have se
x with a coworker, and it’s a fireable offense to do it on duty, and it’s just…unseemly, given his age.
Catherine Day doesn’t do unseemly things! It isn’t me, this torrid, sex-fueled affair, yet every time I convince myself to end it, something else happens and my resolve vanishes like it never existed in the first place. Jace will yank me into a searing, movie-worthy kiss or send me a heated gaze from the passenger seat of my car. Or he’ll rumble Cat, baby in that husky growl of his, and nothing else will matter. Not our jobs or my reputation or seemliness. The only thing that matters is him and how close I can get my body to his in the next thirty seconds.
But despite the sex and the snuggling in bed and the occasional domestic moment of making coffee or dinner together, there’s not another vulnerable moment like there was that night in the shower. I don’t cry, he doesn’t ask do you…?, and we don’t talk about our pasts again. We have sex and talk about the case. Professional and age considerations aside, it should be perfect.
Why isn’t it perfect?
Why do I keep thinking about that moment in the shower? Why do I keep wishing he’d finished his question?
Keep hoping he’ll ask it again?
My confusion isn’t helped any by Kenneth, who’s been trying to corner me into dinner for a few weeks now. Would I say yes if I weren’t screwing Jace? Should I still say yes? I mean, Jace and I haven’t defined what we are to each other, and it’s not like he’s the loquacious type and full of effusive raptures about how much he adores me. For all I know, that night in the shower was a fluke and I really am just a convenient lay. For all I know, I’m just a fun way to pass the time until something better comes along.
But.
But.
Even though the entire thing is ridiculous, even though I’m worse than foolish for carrying on with a man so much younger than me, I can’t bear to entertain even the thought of another person while I’m with Jace. Maybe I’m being too romantic or overly monogamous, or maybe it’s some kind of transferred loyalty from Frazer, who was the last cop I dated before Jace—but whatever the reason, I won’t start something with Kenneth. I don’t even want to.
