Breathe by Kristen Ashley
“That’s unfortunate,” Chace whispered.
Clinton continued to hold his eyes long moments before he requested quietly, “I’m asking you to step back.”
Chace drew in breath at the same time he realized he couldn’t do what he very much would like to do. Use his fists to provide Clinton Bonar with the experience Darren Newcomb’s daughter was very familiar with and that was a prolonged hospital stay.
His only play was to step back and walk away.
So he stepped back and walked away. The direction he walked was toward the library.
“This isn’t finished,” Clinton warned his back.
“It never is,” Chace muttered, not knowing if Clinton could hear him and not giving a fuck if he could.
He watched the library coming closer as he thought of dancing with Faye after midnight to a fantastic fucking song while she smiled at him and let him hold her close. He’d sat in her truck, smelling her perfume, watching her expressive face, hearing her sweet voice using a variety of different tones that were as expressive as her face.
He’d bought her coffee. He’d watched a kid who had nothing grab five bags full of what he would consider gold that Faye Goodknight gave to him out of nothing but kindness.
He’d had a good morning, his first good morning in a really long time that his father and his bullshit had turned to shit.
And that was exactly what he felt as his long legs ate the distance from his truck to the library. Shit. He smelled it. He felt it. He tasted it in his mouth.
He had to get rid of it.
He knew only one way to do that. Only two times in fucking years he’d smelled nothing but sweet, felt it and, only once, tasted it.
Dancing with Faye and kissing her.
The library wasn’t open yet but he still wrapped his fingers around the handle of the front door and pulled.
It opened.
Thank fuck, she was in and hadn’t locked the doors.
He walked in, vaguely seeing the layout, the shelves, the books, smelling that smell that only libraries had but his focus was on scanning the space.
To the right, the long checkout desk.
From a door behind it at the back left, Faye came out.
“Hey,” she greeted in her sweet voice. “Did you see where he went?”
Chace didn’t reply, he stalked to her.
When he started moving, she dipped her ear to her shoulder, her head jutting slightly forward, her face going from curiosity to scrutiny.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.
Chace rounded the side of the counter.
Cute, tight skirt that skimmed her hips, cupped her ass and hit her knees. Her low-heeled, brown boots. A scoop-necked tee under a cardigan. Skin displayed above the neckline of the tee highlighting an unusual and attractive three-tiered necklace. Auburn hair falling in sheets over her shoulders and down her chest, a hank of it at the top, right of her forehead pulled to the side in a cute bobby pin. Makeup subtle and appealing.
She looked like a librarian who had good taste in clothes and a light but expert hand with makeup. Her own style, a style that did nothing to emphasize the obviously attractive features of her face or frame and because of that, they contradictorily accentuated them. It was a style that worked for her in a huge way.
And it had been working for Chace the same way for a long fucking time.
“Chace,” she said, still talking quietly, “did something –?”
She stopped talking abruptly when it came clear to her that he wasn’t going to stop coming at her.
She took a step back.
Too late.
He was on her, he rounded her waist with an arm and twisted them so he was moving her backwards toward the door she’d come out.
“Oh God,” she whispered, hands coming up to rest light on his chest, eyes wide and staring in his. “Is the boy okay?”
He didn’t answer.
He moved her through the door, reached out a hand, grabbed it, slammed it, turned her sharply then moved in so she was pressed to it.
“What are you –?”
She stopped talking abruptly this time because he tightened his arm around her waist and yanked it up, yanking her into his body. His other hand drove into her silken hair at the back of her head. Then his fingers cupped her head and tipped it to the side. He slanted his head to the other side and slammed his mouth down on hers.
She made a noise of surprise, her body tense against his and he thrust his tongue between her lips. Without a choice, they opened, another noise of surprise filled his mouth but he ignored that one too, carried on with what he was doing and took her mouth.
She tasted like bubblemint again. This time he knew why since his tongue encountered the gum.
Sweet, fresh, clean. Fucking clean. Beautiful.
God, nothing more beautiful.
He deepened an already deep kiss, needing it and she gave it to him. The tension flowed from her body, it melted into his, her hands slid up his chest, one curving around the back of his neck, fingers going into his hair. The other one slid around his shoulders and held on tight.
Then she gave more, pressing deeper, her tongue timidly sparring with his, her fingers flexing into his scalp, her arm holding tighter. He took it, pulling her close even as he pressed her back into the door, forcing her soft curves to mold to his frame.
When he felt it start to take over, when he knew he’d lose control if he didn’t stop, he stopped.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he tipped his head to rest his forehead on hers, his eyes opening to see, up close, hers drifting open in a cute, sexy flutter and he whispered, “Bubblemint.”
She blinked slowly. No, languidly. Like she was shaking off a dream she didn’t want to let go.
Then she whispered back, “I’m addicted to it.”
Chace couldn’t bury the groan that escaped his throat as he slid his cheek down hers and buried his face in her neck.
Her perfume was flowery but there was a hint of vanilla mellowing it. Sweet and fresh.
And clean.
The woman in his arms was addicted to gum. Not crack. Not kinky sex. Not booze. Not shopping. Not nagging a man or controlling him.
Gum.
Fucking gum.
He smiled against her neck.
“Chace,” she called, a tremor in her soft, now somewhat husky voice. Uncertainty, a hint of fear. He felt her body tightening, preparing, bracing, not knowing, as he’d taught her not to know, what was coming next but knowing it could be unpleasant and his head came up.
“I lost him on Cheyenne Street,” he announced.
She blinked, faster this time before she whispered a stammered, “Wh… what?”
“Figure he made me though I don’t know when. Had him through town, up Navajo, down Ute, he was moving quick but not in an obvious hurry. Nervous, scouting, but like it was his normal routine, not afraid. He turned down Cheyenne and he was wind.”
“Oh,” she whispered, disappointed.
“Seein’ as I don’t know when he made me, he could live out there and he caught on I was followin’ him and disappeared on his way home or, if he made me earlier, he purposefully led me off-track.”
Her head tipped slightly to the side and she reminded him, “He’s nine or ten, Chace, and again, you’re acting like he’s a criminal mastermind. He’s just a kid.”
Fuck, it was whacked, it was his name but he loved it when she called him Chace in that voice of hers. It went clean through him every time and when it went through him it went in a fucking good way.
“He’s a street kid,” he reminded her back.
“Yes, a street kid, not a criminal mastermind.”
He gave her a squeeze and dipped his face close to hers at the same time he dipped his voice low and said, “Baby, I’m a cop. Just trust I know what I’m talkin’ bout. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she whispered immediately and it wasn’t lost on Chace that that wasn’t the first time he called her bab
He filed this away for future reference then asked, “What’s next in your scheduled haul?”
“My scheduled haul?”
“For the kid.”
“Oh,” she said quietly then, unfortunately, her hands moved but fortunately they only moved so she could cock her arms to her sides and rest them flat on his chest so she moved but didn’t move away. She then kept talking. “More food. Cereal this time, I think, so I’ll need to get him more milk. Maybe a bowl, plate, spoon, fork, knife and a sleeping bag just in case he’s sleeping rough.” Her eyes drifted away and she muttered, “I’ll go to the mall tonight after work. I promised him another stash tomorrow.” She focused back on him. “And I’ll write another note. Introduce myself, tell him a little about me. So, you know, maybe if he starts to get to know me he might begin to trust me.”
“My turn,” Chace replied. “I’ll get the food and the sleeping bag and I’ll bring it, pizza and beer to your place tonight. I’ll be there at seven.”
That got him another blink and when she was done he saw it bought him that look of hers, eyes wide, lips parted, shock, wonder, fucking cute.
“Pizza and beer at my place?” she whispered.
“Seven,” he didn’t whisper but said that one word firm.
Her chin suddenly tipped down so she could look at her hands on his chest. Then her eyes darted around as her body got tight and he knew she was finally realizing where she was and therefore belatedly freaking out.
To contain this, he kept his one arm tight at her waist and slid the other hand out of her hair but did it gliding his fingers through it then feeling it drift over his hand as he wrapped his other arm around her shoulder blades.
“Faye,” he called and her eyes darted to him.
“What’s happening?” Her question was quiet.
“Honey, cast your mind back,” he urged gently. “Two minutes ago, I was kissin’ you. Three days ago, I was dancin’ with you. You know what’s happening.”
She shook her head and stammered, “I… I…” With visible effort she pulled it together and went on, even quieter this time, “The last time I kissed –”
Chace cut her off, “This time I kissed you.”
“Is there a distinction?” she asked.
“I told you I didn’t like surprises. You surprised me. I didn’t react very well.”
Her spine straightened. He saw it and this time felt it and her eyes narrowed when she agreed, “No, you really didn’t.”
What he did fucked her up. He knew it then, he knew it now. He hated it then, he hated it now. He was lucky as all hell to be standing right where he was and he knew that too.
But since he was and she wasn’t throwing a shit fit, pushing him off or shutting down, he took that as a sign and powered through.
“You’re right,” he whispered, holding her narrowed eyes. “I really didn’t.”
She put slight pressure on his chest and snapped, “You’re giving me mixed messages, Detective Keaton.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
Hearing her call him that, denying him something he’d come to love in the expanse of two weeks, thinking for years he’d never get his shot to hold the town’s pretty librarian in his arms just as he was doing right then. What he’d just endured with Bonar, all that coming back up. Faye being angry, pulling away. Something he’d been keeping a tenuous hold on for a long fucking time snapped inside him and he instantly decided to power through a different way.
He put not slight pressure on her entire body, his arms tightening, his frame pressing her into the door, his face getting close and he growled, “Right then, here’s one that isn’t mixed. Do not call me Detective Keaton. To you, I… am… Chace.”
“Oh…” she breathed then kept breathing when she finished, “kay.”
“Okay what?” he prompted.
“Okay, Chace,” she whispered immediately.
“Good,” he kept growling, “we got that down. Now we’ll get this straight and not mixed. You know my shit’s fucked up. I’m workin’ on that. You popped up with bad timing once and surprised me another time. I didn’t handle either of those well. The shit I’m workin’ through, I cannot promise I’ll do any better. What I can promise is I like the way you dress. I like the sound of your voice. I like the way you smell. I like that your hair feels the way it looks, like silk. I like the way you taste. I like that you got a backbone. I like it when you get scared of me. I like it when you stand up to me. I like it that you care as much as you do for a kid you don’t know jack about. I like it that you have no clue how to kiss but still, the two kisses I’ve shared with you are the best I’ve ever had. By far. I like all of that more than is healthy for me but especially for you. But I like it so much, I’m gonna ignore that and hope like fuck this doesn’t get jacked like everything else in my life has a tendency to do. I like it so much I’m willin’ to take that risk. I like it so much that I’ve decided you’re gonna take that risk with me. And I’ll make that straight too. I’m not asking you to take that risk, I’m tellin’ you you’re doin’ it. That means I’ll be at your place at seven with pizza, beer, a sleeping bag and food for our kid.”
He moved infinitesimally so his mouth was a breath away from hers and he could smell her gum. The look on her face, the feel of her in his arms and the smell of her gum cut clean through him like it always did.
Then he finished but he did it on a whisper.
“Now, baby, are we straight?”
“Yes,” she whispered back, proving, after his caveman speech the baby thing worked fucking great.
“Good,” he muttered, fighting a grin.
“I don’t like beer,” she announced quietly.
“What do you like?”
“Wine.”
“What kind?”
“With pizza?”
“Yeah.”
“Red.”
“Dry or sweet?”
“Dry.”
“You got it, honey.”
The tip of her tongue came out to wet her bottom lip, his lips were so close it grazed his and when she tasted him, her body gave a soft jolt and her tongue disappeared. But it was too late, he felt that score through him and pressed her deeper into the door.
Her fingers curled into his jacket and she went on in a whisper, “I don’t like pineapple on pizza.”
“Works for me because I don’t either.”
“Okay.” She kept whispering, bit her lip, let it go and admitted, “You’re kinda freaking me out.”
“Good.”
She blinked again and her voice was pitched a half octave higher when she asked, “Good?”
“Faye, darlin’, you’re on your game, I’m fucked. I keep you off-balance, I got the upper hand. What I can tell, with you, I’m gonna need the upper hand.”
“I, uh… that sounds… um… are you sure that in a, uh…” she stammered exposing something he already knew, that she had absolutely no clue how to play a man, the game or be in a relationship and that was cute and hot too. She finally finished, “That doesn’t sound good.”
“My job in that is to make it good for you.”
“Oh,” she breathed and he again fought a grin.
Then he asked, “You get that?”
“No,” she admitted softly.
She didn’t, he knew it and that was also cute and hot.
“You will,” he muttered.
“All right,” she muttered back.
“Seven,” he stated.
“Seven,” she agreed, nodding once.
“I gotta go.”
“Okay.”
“Before I go, give me that mouth,” he ordered and watched her eyes get wide.
Cute.
Hot.
“Pardon?”
“Baby,” he whispered. “Before I go, I want your mouth.”
He felt her tremble in his arms. Then he felt her body slide up his as she came up on her toes.
Then s
Chace took it and kept doing it until it was close to out-of-control. Only then did he stop, lift his lips, kiss her nose and step back. He pulled her from the door and held her loosely until he knew she was steady on her feet. Then he gave her stunned, soft, pretty, turned on face a smile before he walked away, not looking back.
Chapter Five
Chocolate Peanut Butter Sundaes
I waited until the afternoon when my Tuesday volunteer, Mrs. Bagley came in to help out before I went to my office and grabbed my cell phone.
I’d spent all morning trying to decide who to call. I was closest to Lexie and knew her the longest but she’d made it clear she wanted me to try things with Chace so I didn’t think she could be objective. Krystal could maybe be objective but I wasn’t sure about that. She seemed kind of hard, not to mention, even though I knew deep down she was good people, she frequently scared me. I didn’t know the rest of the posse enough to share.
This left Lauren.
But choosing Lauren wasn’t a process of elimination so much as her being the best choice.
I didn’t know what it was but there was just something about her that was special. Something that made you know she’d have your best interests at heart. Listen. Advise thoughtfully. She was more mature, experienced. It wasn’t that Lexie and Krystal weren’t all that but they were more opinionated.
I needed someone to really listen and after they did, advise.
In the end, I was pleased to know I chose well and made note of it for (hopefully) future counseling sessions as things (hopefully) moved forward with Chace.
When I called her, I could hear the bar sounds in the background but when I asked her if she had time to chat, I heard them fade then go clean away after she said yes.
So I told her everything to the minutest detail that happened between Chace and me. And it was fair to say I remembered the minutest detail.
Through this, she listened.
When I was done, I asked quietly, “Well?”
“Was there a question, honey?” she asked quietly back.
“Yes,” I told her. “Should I have pizza with Chace?”
There was humor in her voice when she replied, “I thought that wasn’t exactly a choice.”