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COPE
Ali didn’t owe me a damn thing, I decided while I sat on a bench outside the Civil War Museum. Whatever was bothering her was none of my business—even if she had lied to me.
The minute I found out she was a reporter, I knew I had to stay away from her, but I’d ignored my own warning and got as close to her as I could.
If she hadn’t been in an accident and broken her arm, she probably wouldn’t have been in my bed—where I’d almost sunk my cock into her wet heat. The fear that I’d hurt her had been the only thing stopping me from doing it, and my body still ached from that decision. Her lying, something that would normally be a deal breaker for me, hadn’t done anything to ease my raging desire to fuck her into next week.
After ten minutes of forcing myself not to think about her, I was able to get up and walk to my rental car without the tent in my pants embarrassing me. I drove back to DC without feeling the slightest bit better than when I’d left.
My cell vibrated at the same time the number of the caller flashed on the screen. I hit the call button on my steering wheel. “Cope,” I answered.
“She just left,” said Rock.
“Copy that.”
A few minutes later, another call came in from a different number. “Hey, Cope, it’s Buck. Thalia’s landed.”
“Copy that,” I muttered a second time before ending the call. Ali, or Thalia, as the team had begun referring to her at my request, was back at her apartment.
I was surprised she’d waited so long to leave my place, but now that she was gone, I could go home.
I didn’t bother turning on the lights when I walked into my loft. I had no desire to see its emptiness. I breathed in deeply; Ali’s scent still wafted in the air. Soon enough, it would be gone, but I doubted the memory of her body in my bed would fade as quickly.
I poured myself a drink, ignoring the call coming in from my father, appreciating his concern, but like every other time he’d asked, there was nothing I could tell him. I powered the phone off, walked to the window, and looked over at Ali’s dark apartment, wishing that instead of sleeping there, she was still here.
As I stood in the shadows, I saw the light come on and took a sip of the bourbon in my glass. When the light flickered, I took another step back. I held my breath, wondering if she would be brave enough to step closer to look for me.
She stared openly, turning her head. I raised my glass. Windows and a few hundred feet separated us, and yet I could swear I heard her gasp when she caught the light’s reflection on the ice. She looked right at me and raised her hand. I took another drink.
Did she know that from here I could see the outline of her body under her sheer robe? Was she aware I could see when she brought her thighs together, perhaps remembering how I’d kissed the inside of them?
How I’d wanted to run my tongue up until I reached her panties, so wet with need. I took another sip, breathing in the bite of the bourbon when in my mind, it was her scent that lingered.
She reached out for the brick of the wall and slowly took a step back. I stayed where I was, my glass empty, until the lights went out.
I stretched my neck, looking up at the high ceiling of my apartment. I needed another fucking drink. Anything that would help me forget her ocean eyes.
On my way to the kitchen, I reached over my shoulder, grabbed my shirt, and pulled it over my head, tossing it on the floor. After unfastening my belt, I pulled it through the loops and threw it against the wall.
I shuddered, overcome by the memory of the way her breath had hitched when I brought my mouth to her nipple. I dropped three ice cubes into the glass and watched as they steamed when the amber liquid slid over their hard edges.
I pulled at the buttons on my jeans, about to drop them where I stood, when I heard a knock at the door. “What the fuck?” I muttered and then remembered I’d turned my phone off. I had all but the top button refastened when I threw the door open without looking to see who was on the other side.
“Um…hi.” Ali’s eyes traveled from my face down my body. When I saw Rock and Buck standing a few feet away, I pulled her into my dark apartment.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, fumbling for the light switch.
“Leave it off,” she whispered, resting her right hand on the waist of my jeans.
“Ali—” I groaned when her fingertips slipped inside the open v of my jeans.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
I put my hand on hers, stopping her fingers from going any lower. “What for?”
“Leaving…” I felt her lips on my sternum. “Without thanking you.”
I reached for the switch and flicked it on, flooding the space with bright light.
