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Cop Tales an Anthology for a Cause Page 12
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“Maybe I don’t want you to…ever.”
He leans in, kissing the tip of my chin. “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”
“Don’t tell me you’ll never be able to leave, only to walk away.”
He stops kissing me to shift his position so he is directly above me, trapping me beneath.
“If I could tell you I love you right now and you would believe me, I would.”
Griffin didn’t have to tell me. I saw it in his eyes, saw the way he looked at me like no one had ever done before. Somehow with just this one stare, he owns me. All of me. If I could spend the rest of my days looking into those eyes, I would give up everything I own to make him mine.
“And what if I tell you right now that I’ve never felt this way with anyone before and this is so crazy since it feels like I’ve known you forever?”
“I love you,” he whispers, placing his finger on my lips to keep me quiet. “Don’t say anything back. Please. I’ve been waiting ten years to tell you that and I don’t want to waste another minute holding it in.”
I desperately wanted to tell him how I felt. How falling in love with him was the only thing on my mind. But I’m scared at how fast and how deep my feelings were.
He focuses his attention back on my lips, kissing my mouth with urgency and leaving me without a single breath to catch. My nails claw across his back. With every move he makes, I fall deeper under his spell, allowing him to ravage my body to make up for the time lost over the years.
Propping himself up on his knees, he removes his belt and lowers his pants, exposing himself. I’m in awe of the sight of his beautiful body and the realization of how much I wanted him. Neither one of us cares to wait, which is made clear as we both shift so he easily enters me.
I’m begging my body to hold on and last just a few minutes longer as he watches himself move in and out, biting his lip while spreading my legs enough to cause me to wince in a delightful pain. This man wants only me at this moment and I will do every damn thing to please him.
Just the thought of it has me on edge, I latch onto the pillow behind me. My blood is pumping hard, and every single part of me tingles in a mad delight as my body combusts beneath him. I call his name repeatedly, wishing this moment wouldn’t end. He has a desperate need to control the moment, holding back his impending orgasm until it gets the better of him. The grip of his hands is tight against my waist as his body slams into me until his moans slow down and his hips follow on cue.
He falls beside me, both of us out of breath and reeling from what just happened. I turn to face him. I didn’t care anymore, In just twenty-four hours, my whole life has changed in ways I never imagined with the person I had never imagined being with.
Unable to hide my grin, I challenge him. “So, what now?”
“Hmm…I’ll give you five minutes to catch your breath before I place you on all fours.”
“Ooh,” I squeal with delight beside him. “Do I get handcuffed?”
He smiles widely. “Baby, I love you. We’ll have plenty of time to play.”
I bury my head into his side, smiling so hard I’m sure my face will fall off. My mouth hurts, on the verge of giggling for no reason.
“There’s just one problem. Well, kind of a hurdle,” he says seriously.
I sit up, leaning half my body over him. “What?”
“I don’t really like Five Guys.”
Grinning, I slap his chest. “Shut up.”
“Nah, just kidding,” he reassures me. “It’s Kimmy. She left me a voicemail last night. She, um…says she’s still in love with me and wants to, um…”
“Get back together?” I finish his sentence.
“Yes.”
I laugh, though it’s not funny. It’s so Days of Our Lives.
“Well, Chase left the same message on my voicemail.”
Griffin’s nostrils flare, a jealous expression that looks so awfully cute I could just eat him.
“I fucking knew it.”
“So, what do we do?”
He sighs. “We tell them. Today. No bullshit, no hiding. We just tell them.”
“But what do we tell them exactly?”
“That I love you. That I plan to make you my wife one day and have kids so we can open our own Five Guys and live happily ever after.”
The entire world stops as my heart absorbs this moment. Everything around me feels new yet, at the same time, it feels like home. This is where I’m meant to be, and perhaps it was where I was always meant to be.
Buried into his chest, I whisper the words so quietly, so faintly, but nevertheless raw and unstoppable.
“I love you too, Griffin Sloan.”
About Kat T. Masen
Born and bred in Sydney, Australia, Kat T. Masen is a mother to four crazy boys and wife to one sane husband. Growing up in a generation where social media and fancy gadgets didn’t exist, she enjoyed reading from an early age and found herself immersed in these stories. After meeting friends on Twitter who loved to read as much as she did, her passion to write began and the friendships continued on despite the distance.
“I’m known to be crazy and humorous. Show me the most random picture of a dog in a wig and I’ll be laughing for days.”
* * *
Where to find me:
Website: www.kattmasen.com
WATCH ME | Kimberly Knight
Chapter One
Ethan
I never thought that I would be forty-two and divorced with two kids.
But I was.
My father was a retired Chicago Police Chief, and one day I hoped to follow in his footsteps and be one too. I was working my way up quickly in the ranks, and in the last two years, I had gone from detective to lieutenant. One of the reasons for my promotion was my involvement in situations that circled my sister.
Three years ago, I walked into her condo and found her drugged unconscious by a stalker trying to kidnap her. The fucker had a gun pointed at her boyfriend—who was trying to stop him—and before the perp could fire, I did. I shot the asshole square in the forehead and killed him.
It was the job.
It was my sister.
It was in my blood to protect.
Now, I lived in the condo where I’d killed him. To some, it might be creepy, but it made me smile every time I walked over the spot where he died because it was a reminder that I had saved my sister and my future brother-in-law’s lives.
And I’d do it again.
Since my divorce a year ago, I worked as much as possible unless it was my night with my sons. Those times were for them and only them. Tonight, though, the case was closed, and I had no kids waiting for me. In fact, I had no one waiting for me. So, I did what my sister and her husband used to do when they were single.
I walked down the street to Judy’s, the neighborhood bar.
Chapter Two
Reagan
Start living your life fearlessly. This is the beginning of anything you want.
Three weeks ago, I’d read those words on a sticky note next to my computer over and over before hitting the submit button on my school application. Once I started the course next week, it would take me a year to get my crime scene investigation certificate. I’d always been interested in solving crimes, and I’d finally made the decision to do what I wanted to do.
I’d moved back to Chicago from Denver to be closer to where my daughter was going to go to school. I was born and raised in the windy city, plus I needed to get out of Colorado. I’d been divorced for two years, and my daughter was starting her freshman year at the University of Michigan, so, since Chicago was a lot closer to her school than Denver, I made the move a few months ago. Living in Chicago meant I was close enough that if Madison needed me for anything I could help her, but far enough away that she was on her own doing her thing. That meant I needed to do my own thing, too, so I’d had a come-to-Jesus moment after a bottle of wine by myself and decided to take back my life, find out who I was at forty-on
e, and go back to school.
Even though the certification was the bare minimum in the CSI field, I was okay with that. It was like dipping my toe in the pool to test the waters. If, after getting a job in the field, I loved it, then I would look into getting my degree, but I didn’t want to spend years going to school only to end up hating it.
For the last twenty or so years, I’d worked as a wife and mother. The last time I was in school, I was studying education, but I never worked as an educator because I decided to get married right after graduation, and then a year later Maddie was born. Over the years, I hadn’t kept up my license, and I wasn’t sure if I could walk into a classroom and teach now. I wasn’t excited about the idea of screaming kids or grading papers. I wanted to get my hands dirty, in a sense. I wanted to do what I’d always wanted to do. I needed excitement in my life, and what better way to get excitement than helping put criminals behind bars?
With the wine still coursing through my veins, I’d had another aha moment. I decided to become a bartender again while pursuing my CSI certification. I’d tended bar when I was in college and knew it was a great way to make money and friends while I went back to school. After taking a forty-hour online course, I freshened up my bartending skills and found a job at the local bar.
Because I knew I would start school soon, I wanted to work mid-shift at Judy’s. I worked Thursday through Sunday from four to midnight. It was good hours, and I would still be able to get my classwork done during the week. I’d make drinks, chat with patrons, and hopefully, get major tips, but I hadn’t been prepared for the hours I’d have to stand on my feet to do those things. I only worked four days a week, but my feet still ached non-stop and, when I went home after a shift, I was asleep the moment my head touched my pillow.
“Hey, Tommy,” I greeted as I stepped behind the bar. There were five bartenders, but so far I’d only worked with Tommy and Frank, a closing bartender. “Busy afternoon?”
He filled a pint glass with beer as he spoke. “No more than usual. Work crowd should be here soon.”
“Perfect,” I replied and grabbed a towel to wipe the bar top.
“Oh, and a new barback should be here soon too,” Tommy advised.
“Okay. Sounds good.”
A few minutes later, Judy came from the back with a guy in tow. “Tommy, Reagan, this is Derrick, your new barback.” We all shook hands, and then Judy left to do whatever she did in her office while Derrick shadowed Levi, the other barback.
People started to trickle in, and the bar was humming with laughter and conversations. I tried to keep up with all the orders, and I was very proud of myself for doing so well after only a week. It felt good to be back behind the bar—despite my aching feet—and I knew I’d made the right decision.
Throughout the next few hours, Tommy would ask if I needed help, but I didn’t. I was in the zone. Whiskey sours, margaritas, negronis—they weren’t a challenge for me. At seven, our closing bartender, Frank, and his barback arrived. The crowd was steady, and the drinks were flowing. The atmosphere was amazing because this was what I’d wanted when I’d decided to become a bartender to pass the time. What I hadn’t expected—though it had happened in college—was being hit on by patrons. I’d assumed it wouldn’t happen to me since I was over forty.
I was wrong.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” a guy with slicked-back gray hair and a mustache asked. He was dressed in a suit, and I got the impression he’d come straight from work.
I leaned on the bar, already knowing where this was going, and decided to play into it because I knew I could get more tips if I flirted. “Reagan.”
“That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl.”
I chuckled. “I’m not a girl.”
His gray eyes moved to my breasts, and I instantly felt as though he could see them through my black T-shirt. “No, you’re not. I bet you could teach me a few things.”
I stood quickly so he could no longer look down my shirt. Before I could respond, Derrick poured ice into the ice bin next to me. I jumped slightly at the noise. His brown eyes flicked up at me, and he smiled. “Did I scare you?”
I held my hand over my chest. “Just a little.”
“Sorry about that,” he replied.
“No worries.” I was actually grateful for the commotion. It had been years since a man had flirted with me and I wasn’t sure how to go about it, even if it was harmless. I hadn’t been on a date in almost twenty years, nor had I flirted with a stranger.
I turned back to the gray-haired man. “Can I get you another whiskey sour?”
“You can get me your phone number,” he countered.
My gaze flicked to Derrick, who was still standing next to me. He looked at me, silently asking if I needed him to step in, but I smiled warmly at him to tell him I was okay. We were in a packed bar, and this guy was only flirting. He hadn’t touched me or anything.
My attention moved back to the customer. “Sorry, but that’s not going to happen.”
“Why’s that? Do you have a boyfriend?”
I noticed that Derrick was pretending to wash glasses in the sink under the bar—glasses I’d already washed. “Doesn’t matter if I do or not. I’m here to make you drinks, so if you’d like another one, let me know.”
I turned and walked to a new customer, not letting the guy respond. By the time I went on my dinner break, the guy had left, settling his tab with Tommy or Frank.
“How’s your first night going?” I asked Derrick. He had walked into the break room just as I was clocking back in.
He sat down at the round wood table and opened his sack lunch, taking a sandwich out. “Good.”
“Is this your first job in a bar?”
He took a bite of what looked like a PB & J. “Yeah.”
“It’s exhausting, but you meet interesting people.”
He nodded and bit into his sandwich again.
“See you back out there,” I said and turned to leave.
“Hey, Reagan?”
I stopped and turned back to him. “Yeah?”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
I chuckled, remembering he was there when the customer had asked. “No.”
He bobbed his head again and smirked. “Good to know.”
I balked because I could be this kid’s mother. Well, maybe. He seemed young, but I knew he had to be at least twenty-one to work at Judy’s. “Not looking for one either.”
“Good to know that too.”
Before the conversation turned any more awkward, I turned and left. What I had told Derrick was true. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. I needed to find out who I was before I tied myself to another man again. Though, when I came around the corner and saw who was sitting at the bar, I wanted to change my mind.
He still had the short, curly, dirty-blond hair I remembered from many moons ago, but there were flecks of gray along the sides now. I couldn’t see most of his body because he was seated behind the wooden bar top, but I figured he was still in great shape because his shoulders were broader than I remembered, and his arms pulled against the fabric of his long-sleeved, black shirt as he rested his hand against the glass of his beer.
A smile was plastered across my face as I stepped behind the bar and moved in front of the blast from my past. “Well, as I live and breathe, Ethan Valor.”
Ethan’s deep blue eyes looked up from his amber-colored beer and met my green stare. A smile curved his lips, one I hadn’t seen in over two decades. “Reagan Hunter, is that you?”
I ran around to where he was sitting and threw my arms around his neck as he stood to greet me. “How are you?” I asked.
“Better now.” He squeezed me one more time before we broke apart.
“What are you drinking? Let me get you a refill.” I went back around to the other side of the bar.
“Just what’s on draft. Doesn’t matter,” Ethan replied as he slid back onto the barstool. “If I’d known you were a bartender here, I’d have
come in here sooner.”
I grinned and grabbed a clean half-liter glass to fill for him. This was my high school boyfriend in front of me, and even though I had only worked at Judy’s for a week, I wanted to give the man I’d first loved a beer on the house.
Plus, I’d noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring either.
Chapter Three
Ethan
Nineteen Years Old
I didn’t want to let her go.
For the past two years, we had been inseparable. It didn’t matter that I was a year older and had already graduated. I didn’t go off to college after my graduation, opting instead to attend a local school to obtain my bachelor’s degree in law enforcement. I’d always wanted to be a police officer like my father, so I knew what my future held.
I was destined to be Chicago PD.
Reagan, on the other hand, was leaving to go across the country because she’d got into Stanford. Summer was over, and we knew this day was coming. We’d known for a long time, but neither of us had wanted to admit that it would actually happen.
Now, the girl I loved was standing in my arms, crying because in five minutes her family would drive to the airport so she could catch her flight to California. Time seemed to speed up when all we wanted was for it to stop.
“We’ll talk on the phone every night,” I reminded her.
“It’s not the same,” she sobbed into my chest, her tears soaking through my T-shirt as we stood in her driveway.
I knew talking on the phone wasn’t the same, but we had no choice. “Winter break will be here before we know it and then we’ll spend every day together once you’re back home.”
I watched her tear-stained face as she waved goodbye from the backseat of her parents’ car, not knowing that twenty-three years would pass before I’d see her again.