With my cheek pressed against the tile in his shower, and his arms and body holding me anchored, I wait for my heart to stop pounding and for the strength to flood back to my limbs.
Clem presses a kiss to the nape of my neck and gives me an extra squeeze before stepping away.I immediately feel his loss and turn around, making sure I’m under the warm spray.He reaches out and brushes aside a wet strand of hair sticking to my forehead.
“Beautiful,” he compliments, smiling.
Doubtful, I generally resemble a drowned sheepdog when I get out of the shower, so I’m pretty sure his eyesight is going.But—albeit faulty—I’m not going to argue with his view of me.In fact, it makes me feel pretty damn good.
Leaning in, I kiss him with the appreciation his observation deserves.
“Mmm,” he groans, disentangling himself.“You finish up in here.I’m gonna get some coffee and breakfast going.My guys are gonna get here in about half an hour.”
Reluctantly, I let him go, but I make sure I’m enjoying the view as his firm ass flexes with each step he takes.The man has some phenomenal glutes, and I’ve already come to appreciate those powerful legs.
This morning, I’d been a little disappointed when I woke up to find myself alone in his bed.I’d hoped for some heavy duty snuggling now there aren’t any teenagers to kill that early morning glow.So when I heard the shower running, I went looking for him instead, and he didn’t appear averse to me joining him.
Last night I crashed, mostly from emotional exhaustion.It’s been a stressful few weeks, and I haven’t had many restful nights.So yesterday, after Mancuso took Remi and Linc headed out to stay at the Battaglias’, the walls started caving in on me.By the time I got here yesterday afternoon, I was coming apart at the seams.
I have to admit, I never thought I’d be looking for solace in the arms of a man.But Clem isn’t just any man—as I’m learning—and yesterday he gave me exactly what I needed.He held me together so I could let myself fall apart, and then he gave me space so I could pull myself together again.I did that while helping him scrub fingerprint dust all afternoon.Nothing better for the mind than to keep the body busy.
Then while he was making dinner—he insisted on cooking for me—I had a chance to check in on the boys.
For Remi, I had to check in with Mancuso, who said he was doing fine at the safe house.It’s hard not to be able to hear his voice for myself, but I understand the caution.It’s pretty standard procedure not to allow outside contact for someone in protective custody, it kind of defeats the purpose, but knowing that doesn’t make it easier.
My conversation with Linc was brief.He was fine, had already finished his homework, and was looking forward to going to the shooting range with Naomi and her dad tomorrow after school.Even though I carry a gun for work myself, I’m not sure how I feel about my son with a weapon in his hands.But Roy Battaglia is former military, a security specialist and, from what I understand, a weapons safety expert.He’s probably better equipped than I would be introducing my kid to guns.
Before I hung up, I did issue my son a brief warning that he better not have any ideas about sneaking into his girlfriend’s room during the night, or her father would make mincemeat out of him.I’m not ignorant, nor naïve, so I’m aware my son is very likely having sex, even though I’d rather not think about it.We’ve had the talk, I even bought him a box of condoms back in Spokane, so I hope he’s being careful and not stupid enough to use any of them under Roy Battaglia’s roof.
Thinking of condoms, unless Clem snuck one in the shower with him and managed to put it on without me noticing, we didn’t use one just now.I’m not worried about pregnancy—I had my tubes tied not long after Remi was born—but we haven’t really talked about safety yet.
So when I join Clem in the kitchen a little later, lured by the smell of fresh coffee and bacon, I confront that issue head-on.
“We had unprotected sex.”
Clem is at the stove, frying eggs, and turns around at my comment.
“Yep.”He pops his P.
“I figure I should probably have mentioned my tubes are tied, so you don’t have to worry about that, and after finding out I hadn’t been the only one my asshole ex was swapping bodily fluids with, I had myself tested for any and every STD under the sun.”
When he doesn’t say anything, I add, “And I haven’t been with anyone else since.”
Then he drops the spatula he was holding on the counter, shifts the frying pan away from the flame, and moves toward me, wrapping me up in his strong arms.
“I’ve never gone unwrapped before, until you.I also had myself tested since my last encounter.That was a couple of years ago.”
There’s a bunch to unpack in his statement, but that’ll have to wait for another time, because suddenly a loud overhead buzzer goes off.
“A leftover from the building’s days as a firehouse,” he explains.“That’ll be my guys.They can’t get into the new door.”
He kisses my forehead before letting me go.
“Can you finish up the eggs for me?I’ve gotta let them in, I’ll be right back.”
I turned the gas off under the eggs and am pulling the sheet of bacon from the oven when he returns.
“Sorry about that,” he says, playfully bumping me aside.“Go sit.I’ve got this.”
Then he pushes down the English muffins he had waiting in the toaster, grabs a couple of plates and rips off two pieces of paper towel, before preparing us both a cup of coffee.
