Page 63 of Sinful Promise
“I said,” she jams her elbow against my stomach and steals the breath from my lungs.
“Go away!”
But I hold her arm close and take a long whiff of her scent.
Yeah, I’m bordering on sexual harassment.
But fuck if I can stop right now.
“Charlie!”
“And then we havethisSera,” I murmur by her ear. “Slutted up. Short skirt, hardly any shirt at all. Tits out, and,” testing, I run my hip-holding-hand along her belly to confirm what I didn’t think to check with my eyes. “You have inkanda belly ring? Jesus. Who are you?”
“I’m none of your business.”
She shoves away so I catch a glimpse of her back again. The secret ink that stretches from hip-to-hip, then up to be covered by her barely-there top. It’s too dark to see what she’s branded herself with, and she’s too fast for me to get a good look.
“You won’t mention this ever again,” she snarls. “In fact, it would be best if you forget I exist.”
“But I can’t.” I reach up and press a hand to my pounding heart. “You’re the best puzzle I ever wanted to solve, and tonight, you gave me another piece.”
Her eyes, willow green and panicking between the dark mascara she’s surrounded them with, search mine and scream a thousand worried thoughts. “I want to work in peace, Detective Fletcher.” Her chest heaves, not with anger now, but with emotion. With exhaustion. “I don’t want to be accosted by a cop who is in my building five days a week. I don’t want to have to leave a room because you undress me with your eyes.”
“But, Sera—”
“I don’t want you to call me Sera!” she snaps. “Use my full name. Or hell, call me Fifi. Everyone else does.”
“Everyone else is teasing when they say it.” I take a step forward, just close enough I can smell her again. “You don’t like it.”
“Exactly. So follow suit and go on irritating me. It’s easier that way.”
“Easier to hate me?” I chuckle, and take another step forward. “You want me to annoy you, so you can feel validated in disliking me?”
“I want you to ignore my very existence.”
“But why?” A cab pulls up at the curb just six feet from where she stands, blaring yellow, a stark contrast to her dark outfit. “Because you wanna fuck me too? Your anger is running thin, Sera, and you worry you’ll give in soon.”
“I’m older than you.”
I choke out a laugh and look her up and down. “Yeah? By what, a day?”
“By two years,” she spits out. And when I claim another step closer, she backs up. “Two years is a long time.”
“Not when you’re a grownup,” I counter. “Sex is sex, Ms. Lewis. Once we become adults, we no longer need to declare our age at the door.”
“You have a kid,” she tries again. “A really cute, really loud, somewhat exasperating kid.”
“Exasperating because she calls you Fifi too? Don’t worry,” I chuckle. “I’m an expert at keeping my sex-life and my home-life separate. She needn’t be in this conversation at all.”
“I don’t want kids. I don’t even like kids!”
She tries so desperately to hurt my feelings. To burn me with her words and dissuade me from following her to the cab. “I don’t need you to give me a kid,” I reason. “Nor take care of the one I already have. Next?”
Her back hits the yellow sedan so she jumps. Spinning on her heels, she whips the door open, and her hip collides with mine as she circles it. “You’re married.”
“I’m divorced. Happily.”
“You’re confused!” She drops into the back seat and slams the door shut so the whole car rocks on its frame.
