Page 88 of Floodgates

“In rooms that share a bathroom,” he told me. “So I can attack you in the middle of the night.”

“Is it an attack if I’m begging?”

He pounced on me, putting his arms around my waist as he lifted me off my feet and kissed me almost savagely. “No—” He explored my tonsils. “—begging necessary.”

I went boneless in his arms and wrapped my legs around his hips as I told him to take me upstairs to the bathroom.

He shoved me up against the wall, telling me in broken whispers and sharp inhales of breath that bathrooms were for kids; beds were for grown-ups with serious agendas.

“Oh yeah,” I teased him, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth, feeling a shudder tear through him. “You’re serious?”

“Don’t talk to Breckin anymore. You don’t belong to him.”

“No?”

“No, Tracy. He was never gonna keep you.”

And he was so very right.

Chapter 11

THE ALCOTTS had insisted on feeding us. They had a whole spread of turkey with all the fixings, as if Thanksgiving had come a month early. It was all beautifully presented, all the flourishes just gorgeous, no detail missed. I had never seen a more lavishly catered meal. Cord and I sat together at the kitchen table while everyone else was in the great room, spread out over couches and love seats. When we were done, I offered to help clean up, but Michelle dismissed me and said that the service was paid to leave her kitchen immaculate as well.

I went upstairs with Cord, who yanked me inside his room and shoved me up against the door as he locked it. He kissed me before I could get a word out.

There were things I wanted to say, but as much as I knew we needed to talk, I couldn’t stop kissing him long enough to form words. When he finally pulled away from me, I was absolutely aching.

“Come back,” I uttered hoarsely, my voice crackly with need.

“I gotta go,” he said, clearing his throat, not sounding happy about it.

I crossed quickly to his bed and sat down, patting the space beside me. “C’mere and talk to me.”

“I can’t,” he insisted, pulling his brown corduroy blazer over his gray cable-knit sweater with the button neck. “I have to go check in with the chief of police here in Fieldcrest.”

“Who’s gonna watch over me?”

“Officer Dennis Cumberland,” he explained, “who I think is downstairs already. I’ll make sure before I go. You know I wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“Yes, I know,” I whispered, gesturing for him. “Come here.”

“No.” He chuckled, his smile decadent.

“Cord, I––”

“Now listen, do not leave this house for any reason,” he ordered. He walked to the door and stood there, poised to leave the room.

“You’re really going?” I said irritably, getting up, ready to intercept him

“Yes,” he answered, opening the door before I made it halfway to him.

“Cord!”

“Take a nap,” he ordered gruffly, walking out.

“Come back here and blow me,” I demanded in a sharp whisper.

“Later,” he called back.