Street Safe (13 page)

“You should’ve left the key with Beau.”

Derrick shuffled his feet beneath Street’s heavy scrutiny. “Well, I heard what happened at the spa and wanted to make sure you were okay.” He shrugged, his hands raised palms up in a helpless gesture. “I know how close you and Auggie were.” He drifted a questioning gaze over Na’arah from her damp ebony tresses to the tips of her black painted toenails. “And I didn’t expect to find her here.”

Street stepped in front of her. He did not like the appreciative gleam in his friend’s eyes. “Yeah. I heard about Auggie.” The heat of a delicate palm radiated from the small of his back to his groin. What he wouldn’t give to feel her hand wrapped...”You’ve seen me, now maybe you should leave.”

For one long heartbeat Street thought he was going to have to toss his friend out on his ogling ass, until a wide grin split his face.

“I know when I’m barking up the wrong tree.” With a mock salute Derrick left and closed the door.

Wordlessly Street walked over and twisted the deadbolts. Tomorrow he would change the locks. He leaned against the door a moment. Somehow he had to get through the rest of the night...with her.

****

Music, laughter, and the muffled voice of a television sportscaster seeped through the floorboards of the apartment. Na’arah allowed the sounds of life to penetrate her pores. Not that she needed a reminder. Ever since Street walked in or rather burst into the room, he reminded her of vitality, a virility she ached to sample. And if that wasn’t enough, her queasy stomach was a constant reminder of the life growing inside her.

She spun away from the temptation of his broad shoulders, the flannel blanket caressing her calves as she longed for him to do. A sigh slipped through her lips. But she wanted to be wrapped in his arms again, to feel secure.

Her fingers fumbled the knot at her shoulder. She pivoted on her heel, her bare feet sliding over the rich cherry wood floor. Street left her in the shower to grab something from the bar downstairs and that was fine. She couldn’t think with the hot water cascading over her body when only a wall separated them. It wasn’t until she heard a soft click that she realized she wasn’t alone. By then she’d already hurled a small glass snow globe at the intruder’s head.

She glanced over her shoulder. Street was still leaning against the wall, as if he didn’t want to face her. A bead of sweat rolled between her breasts, reminding her of the extra layer around her shoulders.

Maybe he had a problem with her clothes. She smirked and yanked at the knot. Well he better get used to it, because the only thing better than wearing his clothes was walking around naked. The fleece pooled at her feet. Another glance assured her he still hadn’t moved.

Her gaze swept the cozy living room. Two large recliners dominated the space and faced the bricked fireplace. Settled on the mantle were several pictures. She crossed to these and picked up a frame containing a photo of Street in slacks and a short-sleeve dress shirt. An angry red welt ran from the tip of his right ear and disappeared into his eyebrow. A dark cabbie-style hat covered his bald scalp while he leaned heavily on a set of crutches. Next to the frame another box containing a large gold key and a medal she didn’t recognize. Stepping closer, she stifled a gasp. An Outstanding Citizen Award?

When she picked up the shadow box a folded piece of paper fluttered to the floor. She stooped to retrieve the yellowing sheet, the edges curled from age. For bravery and heroism beyond the call of duty. She flicked a glance at the picture next to the article. The fire-gutted shell of a four story apartment building stared at her from the grainy page.

She skimmed the paper. Street hadn’t even been an occupant in the building, just passing by when he saw flames. Without him everyone in the building would’ve died, especially the family on the third floor. He never said. Then again why would he? That would require him to have a conversation that didn’t include him accusing her of sleeping with imaginary men. She cradled the frame in her hand and traced the scar.

“You can put that down.”

She jumped at the harsh note in his voice, yet hated how her hands trembled when she set the photo and article back on the mantle.

“You never told me you were a hero,” she said unable to keep the awe from her voice.

“I ain’t no damn hero.”

She drifted her gaze over him. Every muscular line in his lean body stood at attention. When she neared a muscle ticced in his jaw. Reaching up she traced the outline of his full lips, over his jaw relishing the prickle of stubble ticking her fingertips. She paused when she felt the small abrasion on his chin. If he hadn’t moved so quickly she most certainly would’ve speared his Adam’s apple, but she’d also busted his lip.

“I’m sorry.”

He gripped her fingers, and a tingle zipped up her arm and raced through her body. Something flickered in his light brown depths and slipped away before she could decipher the emotion. His hand circled her wrist and he jerked her off balance.

She stumbled forward, her feet tangling in the blanket. He caught her around the waist and hauled her close.

“Never apologize for fighting for your life.”

The low authoritative note in his voice vibrated through her body igniting desire she’d thought she’d banked.

“But I hurt you.”

“And if I’d been the bad guy and you hesitated, you’d probably be dead.”

She flinched. Nothing in his manner was meant to soothe. Even the hands gripping her arms were a bit rough. She didn’t need him to remind of her what she’d just lived through.

“Did I do something wrong?” She curled her fingers in the front of his shirt.

He plucked her hands from his clothes and set them to her side. She followed his gaze as it swept her from head to toe. The desire simmering in his amber depths flared and then disappeared from view.

“Where the hell are your clothes?”

“In the wash. They were covered in, uh, blood.” Her voice caught on the last word. She tugged at the hem of her T-shirt. “I didn’t think you would mind if I borrowed something from you.”

Silence.

She rested a hand on his forearm, the muscle bunched beneath her palm. “He was my friend, too.”

“What was he doing there? He was supposed to be out of town or something.”

She stumbled away, taken aback by the accusation in his voice. “You think it’s my fault he’s dead?” Tears stung her eyes. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

She spun on her heel. He grabbed her hand and dragged her against the hard wall of his chest. This was the second time she was helpless in his arms.

“Let me go!”

His eyes glittered. “You make me crazy.”

“And that gives you the right to blame me?” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I can understand your outburst about the baby, but blaming me for Auggie’s death is just cruel.” Too much. She’d expended too much emotion and she just wanted—her gaze snapped to his—him.

“No, but realizing you were there...” He gripped her shoulders. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“It died after I called 911.” She dragged a stuttered breath into her lungs. “I know you don’t want me here. As soon as my clothes are dry I’ll leave.”

His hands moved from her shoulders to tangle in her hair. He dislodged the rubber band, allowing her damp curls to spill about her shoulders.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He tilted her head back and leaned close. “Not until you’re safe.” His lips touched hers, a cool caress of skin on skin and just what she needed. The heat of his mouth infused her, coaxed her into surrender and left her clinging to his bulging biceps. If not for the hands in her hair, she’d have slid to his feet in a boneless pool of ecstasy.

So much happened tonight and his kiss was just the balm she needed. She locked her hands behind his neck. One hand left her hair to skim her spine, then cup the swell of her buttocks, pressing her closer. The rigid length of him grazed the inside of her thigh. Liquid desire moistened her lips and tightened her nipples further. She made a small noise in the back of her throat and he deepened the kiss. The moment his tongue swept inside her mouth she forgot to breathe. She had to touch him, feel his skin next to hers.

It was that first night all over again. How she missed this man. She slid her hands beneath his shirt, her fingertips exploring chiseled abs before sliding over firm rounded pecs. He moaned into her mouth, strumming a chord deep inside, where desire resonated and pulsed. She never wanted him to stop kissing her.

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her shorts and slid them over her hips. She tugged at his shirt and he grabbed her hands.

“Impatient,” he said with a chuckle.

She stared into his eyes. “I am.”

He crushed her to him, devouring her mouth as he plunged two fingers inside her heat. She could’ve wept with need as waves of ecstasy rippled through her body, then centered again on his fingers slowly moving inside her. Back and forth, scraping over sensitive flesh.

“You’re so wet.”

“Yes.”

She could only cling to him, but she needed more. He still wore his clothes, the denim of his jeans cool and smooth against the heat of her inner thighs. She stroked him, relearning the shape of him and longed to feel him buried deep, butted against her cervix, sending her into oblivion and back again.

He added a third finger and flicked his thumb against the small bundle of nerves. She whimpered, at the mercy of his hand, his mouth and oh god how she wanted to feel his cock throbbing inside her.

“That’s it sweetheart, come for me.”

And she was so close, too. Everything she was centered on his hand. One more flick and she was quickly sliding down the rabbit hole, his name a strangled sob as she tossed abandon to the wind.

“Hold on to me, baby.”

She didn’t know if she had the strength, but if it kept her close to him, she’d cling away. He fumbled at his waist, his knuckles brushing against her hip bones as he worked his jeans over his hips.

She nibbled on his mouth, drawing the spicy taste of him, learning the shape and texture of his mouth. Why didn’t he understand how much she needed him? Tears pricked her lids.

He stepped backward and she moved with him, afraid this was all some erotic fantasy and she was still huddled in her black hiding space.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

Her eyes snapped open and she stared into simmering chocolate. The passion she read in his velvety depths assured her she was very much in the present, as did the hard cock teasing her swollen folds.

She glanced around and realized he’d maneuvered them to one of the chairs in front of the fire. Heat beckoned at her back while Street warmed her front.

He guided her down. She thought his fingers had stretched her, but this was different. His cock was hard, unyielding and thick. He filled her and she marveled at the way her body accommodated his length.

A moan eased over her lips as her thighs rested on his and he pulsed within her. She rocked back and forth, enjoying the tiny fissures of lightening quickening through her veins.

She’d waited so long for this and she wanted to savor him, take her time. A slow roll of her hips had him biting back a curse. She chuckled and did it again. His fingers dug into the softness of her flesh, but she kept her languid pace, timing her thrusts to the muffled Keith Sweat song drifting through the floorboards.

If she could only have this one moment with him, then she wanted him to remember her, to never forget what they were sharing. And she needed an extraordinary memory to eclipse the hell she’d been through tonight.

His hands splayed across her back, he worked her shirt up and over her head. He dipped his head and captured one bobbing nipple into the hot recesses of his mouth. She arched against him and he sucked, his tongue fluttering over the peak, before allowing the bud to slip from his mouth. He teased the other. Giving it the same patient consideration as the first. Each draw sent her hot cream trickling over him and aided her thrusts.

He gripped her buttocks, parting her cheeks so he could tease her anus. Sparks danced and zigzagged through her body, her womb clenching as he circled the tight ring. He lifted his head, a devilish grin on his kissable mouth.

“You got super wet. Do you like that?”

She whimpered, pushing against the hand caressing her buttock while his finger teased her.

“Say the words,” he whispered against her ear.

“Yes. Yes I like that.”

He rewarded her with a slow penetration of his finger.

She stilled, her body processing the new sensation, savoring the slight burn as he stroked deep, getting her used to his invasion. She was so turned on her juices dampened her thighs.

Tangling his fingers in her hair, he dragged her down for a kiss. His tongue mimicked the motions of her hips and his finger fucked her ass. He added a second finger, stretching her, and she shattered. Her vaginal muscles spasmed around him and he thrust upward, hard and fast, urging her into another and another until he paused and his pelvis brushed hers, his arms tight around her as one final stroke sent her catapulting into a climax she never thought possible.

She collapsed over him, her forehead resting in the hollow of his shoulder. His ragged breath feathered the hair near her ear as he held her within his embrace. Wrapping her arms around him, she squeezed. She didn’t want him to let her go. Where turmoil had once raged, peace stole through her.