Selling Out (39 page)

If I had seen his face first, I wouldn’t have stopped him.
It was all hollows and tension, want and arousal. It looked like pain and felt
like it too in the brusque way he turned me onto my back, in the grip as he
spread my thighs.

“Your leg,” he ground out.

“Fine,” I gasped. I had no fucking idea, though. I couldn’t feel
anything but the ache in my cunt and the abrasive rasp of his denim and then
the hard, painful press of his length against my clit. His body sank down onto
mine. Without break, without reprieve, he began a hard-and-fast rhythm of
bringing himself off, dragging me along. I reveled in his roughness, such a
stark contrast to the gentleness he usually showed me—it was need. And it was
trust, for now I understood that it was as hard for him to believe in the
intimacy between us as it had been for me. My body sparked with a heightened
arousal, but my heart warmed with tenderness.

“God, Luke. God.”

“I know,” he said. “Oh shit.”

I kissed his temple.

His body tensed over me, against me, and I knew he was coming.
I wouldn’t make it, there wasn’t time, but it was okay. And then his mouth
sought out my nipple, sucking and—oh God—biting. It was too much, too hard and
fast, too hungry and desperate and too damn close, and my body launched into
another orgasm, my hips strained against his, and he forced them down, riding
his release in the cradle of my body.

We curled up together afterward, catching our breath.

I rested my chin on his shoulder. “Hey.”

“I’m a mess,” he said, amused.

Glancing at the dark spot on his crotch, I suppressed a
smile. “Was that second or third base?”

“I have no idea. But I’m pretty sure this means you’re
officially my girlfriend.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.” He grew quizzical. “You know I want more than that,
right? In the future. That’s where we’re heading.”

I looked down where my finger drew figure eights on his
chest. “I know. I want that too. But I kind of like this high school stuff.” I
felt a blush heat my cheeks. “I didn’t get to have that.”

He lifted my chin and kissed my nose. “Me neither. And I
like it too.”

After a few minutes, he checked on my leg, but the wound
hadn’t opened. It was a little sore from rubbing against the sheet when I was
in the throes of climax, but so was my entire body. A session like that was
draining, and I would have been more than happy to take that rest Luke had
badgered me about, but I was restless. I opened the window. Fresh air wafted
in, rich with the scent of twilight. We wouldn’t be able to do this back in the
city.

Luke groaned from the bed. “Why are you vertical?”

I swallowed. “You want to go back.”

He was silent a moment; then he came to stand behind me,
wrapping his arms around me. He spoke in a low tone. “I do. But I’m happy here
too.”

I shifted in his arms, turned my face into the soft hair of
his chest. “What would you do here?”

“I’d find something.” His shoulder shrugged beneath me. “I’m
sure they need cops out here too. It would probably be less stressful.”

I snorted. “Less stressful because you’d be handing out
traffic tickets.”

“I wouldn’t mind, Shelly. Whatever we have to do, wherever
you need me to be.”

“Why so accommodating?”

“Would you rather I drag you back to the city and demand you
have supper ready on the table?”

It didn’t sound so terrible. Maybe what I had really meant
was that
I
wanted to go back. “I
think the work you do would be more meaningful there. I think you’d prefer it.”

“But…” He raised his eyebrows.

“You might be ashamed of me. Word will get out about me in
the department. It’s one thing to grab a quickie on patrol; it’s another to
date me.”

“Marry,” he corrected.

My breath stuttered. “Excuse me?”

“It doesn’t have to be now, but it will happen.”

I blinked, incredulous and giddy that he would propose to
me. Though he hadn’t, really. “Isn’t it supposed to be a question?”

“Would you have preferred rose petals and champagne?”

“God, no.” I’d had more than enough seduction in my
lifetime, more than enough false charm. I wanted the real thing. I wanted
forever. “So what now?”

“Now we go back. I’ll do the work I’ve been doing, cleaning
the streets—” His hold tightened as I tried to object. “And if anyone has a
problem with my wife, we’ll deal with it like adults.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. I don’t want any more
violence.”

He chuckled softly. “At night, I’ll come home to you.”

“Naked, except for my apron and high heels.”

“Wearing whatever you want, doing whatever you want.”

Which was what, exactly? That wasn’t a question for Luke but
for myself. I had never been the domestic type, and hadn’t I already figured
out that a regular job wasn’t for me? I had been raised to do one thing only.
Even the love of a good man couldn’t make me forget all my training.

The bookstore was ages ago, a million miles away, but I
might as well have been walking out the door, the rejected application damp in
my hand. The life was the only thing I knew, the only one I had.

* * * *

I stared at the unmarked building, red brick and blackened
bulletproof glass. Luke sat quietly in the driver’s seat beside me, giving me
the space I needed.

“It’s a little depressing,” I muttered.

He made a small sound that could have been assent. Or not.

“I mean, just because it’s a new start doesn’t mean it’s a
better one. How can I know this is the right thing for them?”

Was it the right choice for me? I’d wanted so badly to make
this right, without fully understanding what was wrong. I knew better now. It
wasn’t the actions of a single man. This would happen again and again, unless
we did something. One girl, then another. With relief, I realized I hadn’t been
wrong before, bringing them here, supporting this place. But it had been a
halfhearted effort. I hadn’t been able to make the next step of helping them
build a new life, because I hadn’t been able to build a new life for myself.

“Wait here?” I asked softly.

His eyes shone with acceptance, approval. He pressed a kiss
to my lips before I got out and rang the little doorbell. The wait was longer
than usual, but I stood still and patient. Finally the door opened, just a
crack. Marguerite was draped in shadows.

She squinted through the glare on the windows. “I shouldn’t
even have opened the door.”

“Thanks for trusting me on this.”

“That’s your cop, I’m guessing.”

“Just talk to him. He has ideas for how the police
department can help you, so you’re not wasting resources working behind their
backs.”

She frowned. “We do okay by ourselves.”

“We can do better,” I said gently.

Her eyebrows rose. “We?”

“I want to help. To volunteer, to teach, all the things
you’ve been asking me to do. I’m ready now.”

She didn’t trust cops, and probably with good reason. But
she didn’t know Luke, not yet. With his help, we would be able to do more at
the shelter. Give these girls a legitimate future with proper paperwork instead
of a life on the run.

“Okay,” she said with clear reluctance. “I’ll meet with him.
No guarantees.”

I waved Luke inside. He got out of the car and strode over,
his gait slow and unthreatening. But Marguerite paled as he approached, the
pink of her lips pressing to white.

Well, that had gone downhill quickly. “It’s okay,” I said. “He’s
okay.”

As Luke reached us, he looked at Marguerite with a raw, open
curiosity. He stepped closer. His eyes widened.

“Daisy?” His voice was a soft expulsion of air, of shock.

She gave a terse nod. “Luke.”

“Is it really you?”

“I go by Marguerite now.” She hesitated, pulling away when
it looked like he would step forward. “I’m not sure this is even a good idea.
I’m a completely different person now. I’m guessing you are too.”

“Daisy. Marguerite. I want to know you, who you are now. I’m
trying to catch up here, but give me a chance.”

“I want to know you too,” she said in a small voice.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

Nice and soothing, and I recognized the tone of voice he had
used for me once, his instinctual soft touch with an animal who has been hurt.

“That’s a start. That’s all we need.”

* * * *

We returned to Luke’s apartment, where we planned to stay
until we found a house, something small for just the two of us and modest
enough that I could still fill it with nice things. Luke made a decent living
on the force, but the shelter wouldn’t be able to pay me anything, at least
until we got grants in place.

I was already reading up on that, studying the procedures
and writing some very tame, G-rated firsthand accounts of my experiences to
help encourage the wealthy of Chicago to open their pockets. We all lived here,
the streetwalkers and those in the penthouse, stacked on top of each other. I
had walked among the wealthy and privileged with no hope at all. I would do it
again, this time with a message:
look
down.

We lounged in bed, in the same coarse blue sheets I had
thought were unreachable.

“How did you know?” he asked me.

“I didn’t,” I admitted. Though I hadn’t been shocked to
discover it. It had been like remembering a detail of my childhood, one I’d
never really had.

I had always felt a certain affinity toward Marguerite that
couldn’t be explained from our exchanges at the shelter. Family. She had felt
like family, and Luke had felt like mine, long before I’d believed either of
them could be possible. “She told me a long time ago about life on the streets.
When you told me the whole of it, I put it together.”

“She didn’t seem that happy to see me.” Disappointment
trickled into his voice.

I linked my hand in his. “Give her time. She’s survived this
long by being tough. It wouldn’t make sense for her to tear all that down in a
day.”

He smiled slightly, pulling me against him. “Thank you. It’s
inadequate, I know–”

“I didn’t do anything, but I’m glad now that you can move
on, you know. Get to know the real Marguerite. She’s an interesting lady, I’ll
tell you that.”

“Forget the past, you mean.”

“Put it where it belongs, but don’t forget. It made us
stronger, all of us. You couldn’t be nearly as good a cop if you hadn’t gone
through that. I hope that I can be useful to the shelter, because I know what
these girls are going through.”

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you sounded like an
optimist.” His tone teased me.

A smile tilted my lips. “I think it’ll be a long time before
I get there, but I’m hopeful, and that’s something.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, bending down for a kiss. “It’s
really something.”

In the bedroom, he proved his words, feasting on me and
offering himself up in return. He was my craving and my nourishment, my
weakness and my rapture. Like a genie rubbed from a lamp, my arousal had been
awakened by his tongue and his touch and his kindness, while his resolve as an
officer of the law had only been strengthened.

He’d been willing to give up a life of rigid honor, while I
would trade in my stature, my past, my everything to be with him. But in the
end, neither sacrifice had been necessary. Instead we fit the pieces together,
his work and my heart, his body and my lust, every part of us intertwined and
flowing together—seamless.

THE LOST GIRLS Series

Giving It Up

Selling Out

Amber Lin married her high school sweetheart, birthed a kid
who’s smarter than she is, and spends her nights writing down her dirty
thoughts. In other words, life is good.

Connect with Amber on her Web site at
http://authoramberlin.com
.

• Dedication
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• Chapter Sixteen
  
• Chapter Seventeen
  
• Chapter Eighteen
  
• Chapter Nineteen
  
• Chapter Twenty
  
• Loose Id Titles by Amber Lin
  
• Amber Lin