Page 29 of Feel Me

My spine stiffens as I hear Mel push away from her seat. My first thought is I pissed her off and that she’s leaving. With everything going on with Miles, it’s the last thing I want.

For the most part, Mel keeps it together. But last week, when I arrived at the hospital following his surgery, I found her in the hall crying alone. It tore me apart to see her that way and gave me insight to how much she’s holding in.

She put on a brave face when she saw me, wiping her tears and trying to smile. But I still sensed her pain. Hell, I felt it. I hated seeing her so alone and scared. My first thought was to gather her in my arms and hold her close, and I almost did. But I knew if I touched her, there was no going back. That kiss I’ve been fighting to give her every time we’ve said goodnight would have followed and maybe led to something we’re not ready for.

Her bruised expression remains ingrained in my mind, and even though she’s probably mad at me, I don’t want her to go. Mel has a way of settling me, and everyone around her. For as distant and cold I once thought she once was, she’s every bit as nurturing and sweet as everyone claimed. I see that now, mostly because she’s let me.

Her warmth closes in around me as I sense her approach, lifting the tension bulging the muscles along my shoulders. Damn, I want to kiss her. Me, that same guy who’d get annoyed at Curran every time he shows his wife affection. I didn’t understand how he couldn’t just keep his hands to himself. I get it now. There’s been moments, I’ve barely held back around Mel.

Am I still dreaming about fucking her? Yeah. Almost every damn night. But when those dreams fail to make an appearance, I make up my own fantasies. Usually they’re first thing in the morning, or late at night when I’m alone and can do something about it. But sometimes, like now, when it’s just me and her, my mind wanders where it shouldn’t and I think about what it would be like to bust that tension between us and allow it to explode.

She touches my shoulder, luring my attention to her face and that plump, pouty mouth. “Declan, if you approach opposing counsel now, they’re going to know you’re doubting Tricia and her stability. They’re also going to think you can’t win this case.”

“Not if I spin it right,” I tell her. I try to keep my expression neutral, ignoring my desire to tug her bottom lip with my teeth. “I’m going to remind them of all the DNA evidence we have, including the skin cells that were scraped from Tricia’s nails.”

“And you think that will be enough?”

“Based on her BDSM lifestyle? Not even close,” I confess. A tiny wrinkle forms on her brow when she frowns. I want to cup her face, smooth my thumb across her skin. And that’s just the start. But right now, I can’t go there.

“I’m going to make it clear how broken she is because of what happened between her and Morris,” I continue. “And that as a result of their night together, she’s attending intensive counseling. I’m also going to tell him that I’m prepared to put her counselor on the stand to verify she has PTSD and bring in an expert that will educate and spell out to the jury what victims like Tricia go through.”

Mel tilts her chin. “You need me to convince her to attend counseling.”

I shake my head. “No. I need her inintensivecounseling. Minimum three times a week with a therapist that deals specifically with PTSD. Preferably a renowned psychiatrist opposing council would be fools to question.” I cock a brow. “Know anyone?”

“I do,” she says. “So your plan is to wait, to get her into counseling so the defense knows you’re not misleading them?” I nod. “What if they still want to try the case?”

Then we’re all fucked. It’s what I think, but I don’t say it. “If Tricia wants to go through with it, we will. But Mel, you need to talk to her about me pleading this case out. I’m serious,” I add when she opens her mouth to argue. “It’s not going to take much for the defense to turn her into a blubbering mess and for the members of the jury to turn against her.”

The way she takes in every inch of my face, I’m sure we’re seconds from going at it. Instead she answers with a small nod. “I wish you were wrong about her stability.”

“Me, too,” I admit. “Morris is another scumbag who needs to be put away for a long time. The problem is, Tricia doesn’t have what it takes to help me make it happen. Not the way she’s acting now. At the very least, Morris will have to register as a sex offender. That in itself will be a win.”

She bows her head. “I just wish there was a way to give her more.”

She starts to head out, but I don’t want her to go. All this darkness I deal with every time I sit at my desk would be impossible to push through without Mel. In the few weeks we’ve worked together, she’s become my salvation. It’s like I can’t see anything good when she’s not around.

“How about dinner tonight?” I ask as she reaches the door.

Her fingers linger over the knob as she thinks about it. “That could work. I need to discuss the Winston case with you and possibly adding another detective with a grant I just had approved.”

“No. No work,” I say. “Just you and me, talking about anything but this place.”

She pauses, as if she unsure what I’m asking. “Like friends? Going out to eat?”

I peg her with a look that cements her in place, surprising her, and me too. “Maybe not like friends,” I confess, my voice gruff.

Her full lips part. She wasn’t expecting this. I can’t blame her, considering how bad I screwed up the first time I asked her to have dinner with me. “I thought you didn’t date women you work with?” she reminds me.

“I’ll make the exception for you.”

Warmth spreads along her cheeks. She’s not blushing like she’s embarrassed . . . no, not with the way those sweet brown eyes sizzle. There’s a whole lot of heat that has nothing to do with being shy. I know because I’m feeling it, too.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, a slight quiver to her voice.

My tone stays even. “Why?”

“We work together, Declan. My father is your boss. And?” She cuts herself off, as if she was about to say something she shouldn’t. “It’s not a good idea,” she adds quietly, passing her hands along her skirt.

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