Then his hands were at my hips and sliding around to my back as he said, “Oh no, sweetheart.”
“I can’t believe you just did that,” I hissed quietly, my hands on his shoulders pressing and his face got so close to mine it was all I could see, so I stopped pressing.
“If you think for one fuckin’ second that you can kiss me like that. Then the Trailer Trash Twins darken your door. Then Billy comes out and gets in my face. And, I’ll repeat, you can kiss me like that. Then haul me out to the breezeway to give me my marching orders again, sweetheart, you need to have your head examined.”
“That isn’t your decision,” I whispered.
“Oh yeah it is. I fucked up a week ago, got pissed and walked away. I’m not makin’ the same mistake twice. You’re drownin’, Mara, and I’m not gonna live across the breezeway and watch. Not when that means, you go under, I lose my chance to find out what else you can do with that mouth and I don’t mean you usin’ it to spew twisted, fucked up shit.”
“Mitch!” I snapped, getting loud and one of his arms came from around me and lifted so his hand could cup my jaw.
“Baby,” he said gently, “take a second, breathe and think back to whatever you felt when you heard them shoutin’ at the door. And then think about Billy. And then think about that kiss. And after you do that, you tell me you don’t need me, want me gone and convince me you mean it, I’ll take my shift tomorrow and then I’ll be gone.”
“I want you gone,” I said immediately.
He grinned then whispered, “Mara, sweetheart, you didn’t breathe.”
I glared up at him. Then I breathed. Then I realized the Trailer Trash Twins weren’t half done with me. Bill had threatened me and he’d also done his worst. Even hating them himself, he’d called them and he knew they could get to me. This was just the beginning and the worst was yet to come.
Then I thought about the last week and how I wasn’t exactly certain what help Mitch was offering but I’d be as stupid as my mother if I didn’t accept it because, Lord knew, I needed it. What was more, the kids liked Mitch and Billy had, for one shining moment, a decent man in his life and I took him away. I couldn’t do that again. If I did because I was (Mitch was right) shit-scared of what I felt about Mitch, that didn’t say much about me nor my ability to do what was right for those kids.
I decided against thinking about the kiss. That I was never going to do and that was never going to happen again.
I focused on Mitch. “I need to go to sleep.”
“Mara –”
“But,” I cut him off, “we’ll talk tomorrow about how you’re willing to help.”
“You sayin’ you need me?”
“I’m saying the kids like you, Billy needs you and if you’re willing to help, I could use it.”
His grin got bigger. “You’re sayin’ you need me.”
“Whatever,” I muttered. “Can I go to bed now?”
“Yeah, sweetheart,” he agreed but didn’t let me go.
I waited.
“Are you going to let me go?” I asked when his not letting me go lasted a long time.
“Yeah, after you give me a goodnight kiss,” Mitch answered.
“No. No more kissing. We’ll be talking about that tomorrow too.”
“Bet that’ll be good,” he muttered, still, I might add, freaking grinning!
“Hello? Detective Mitch Lawson?” I called. “Do you want to let me go?”
His eyes got dark. I liked the way they got dark and liked it so much I lost focus and since I was paying attention to his eyes getting dark I missed his lips getting closer. At the last minute I pulled back, my head hit the door and his lips brushed mine.
He didn’t move his mouth when he murmured, “’Night, Mara.”
“Goodnight, Mitch,” I murmured back, my breath starting to come hard and my heart beating harder.
He smiled against my lips.
Then he let me go.
Chapter Eleven
Boundaries
I heard distant noises like the murmurs of a man’s deep, attractive voice, a young boy’s not deep voice, a young girl’s definitely not deep voice and a television set.
I opened my eyes, looked at my alarm clock and saw it was nearly nine.
I blinked.
Holy crap! What happened to my alarm?
I threw the covers back, got out of bed, ran to the back of the bathroom door, grabbed my robe, pulled it on over my short nightgown and dashed to the closed bedroom door. Then I dashed back to the bathroom, grabbed a ponytail holder out of a pretty, pink glass bowl on the shelves over the toilet that held my admittedly obsessive collection of every color of ponytail holder known to man. Then I dashed out of my room, my hands securing my hair in a messy knot at the top back of my head.