Floored Page 6

  Charlie burst out laughing. “If I’m doing it right, you’ll feel more than gentle pressure.”

  I glared at him. “Hush, you. Try it again, Krista.”

  “Let me try it with you,” Charlie said.

  “With me?” Pull. Turn. Kick. Bend. Pin. My belly hollowed with a whoosh. “Uh, OK.”

  Krista looked less than pleased so I tried to keep my expression neutral and my proximity to his body teacher-student appropriate. It took monumental effort, though, because as soon as we got into a closed position, I could smell him. I hadn’t even realized Charlie had a smell that night in my kitchen, but when he looped an arm around my back and pulled me toward him, the memory of his body taking control of mine hit me like a freight train. It’s a good thing he was a decent dancer, because I did nothing but move where he put me and inhale his scent. It wasn’t even cologne or soap or anything—it was just his skin. God, I wish I could bottle and sell it. I’d call it Autumn Orgasm. I’d make a fortune.

  “Well? How did I do?” Charlie looked at me expectantly.

  “Um, great. Perfect.” I nearly came. I let go of him and took a step back. “Just relax and let him lead you,” I said to Krista. “You’re doing fine.”

  “You going out tonight?” he asked me.

  “Me? No. I have to work here tonight.”

  “I thought the class ended at nine.”

  “It does, but I’m staying late to finish ripping out the old floor downstairs. It’s warped. We started today but didn’t finish, and the guys are coming to lay the new sub floor on Friday so I can put a new dance surface on top of it over the holiday weekend. I’ll probably have to work tomorrow too.” I was talking too fast, saying too much. Krista yawned.

  “On Thanksgiving?”

  I shrugged. “Have to do it when the students aren’t here.”

  “Do you need help?”

  “Charlie, I thought we were going to dinner at Ottava Via after this. You promised if I came here, you’d take me there.” Krista pouted prettily.

  “Relax. I will.” Charlie looked at me. “I could help you tomorrow, if you want.”

  “No, that’s all right. Enjoy Ottava Via. I love that place.”

  “Me too.” He gave me The Smile. “What do you know, something to add to the list. Right after beer.”

  I had to smile back, and something fluttered in my stomach that scared me like crazy.

  Because it wasn’t sexual. It was genuine affection.

  Oh dear. Oh dear. No, no, no. My brain sounded a red alert, telling me to flee before my emotions got away from me. But my feet felt weighted to the ground next to him, even as my heart threatened to balloon up out of my body.

  Thankfully, someone else called my name for help right then, and I turned away from them. I taught the rest of lesson in a blur, thankful it was a crowded night and a lot of other couples wanted my attention. Staying busy kept me from staring at Charlie and Krista, wondering if he was banging her already or if he’d take her home and bang her for the first time tonight. Would I cross his mind while they were doing it?

  Then I got angry. What the hell was he doing bringing a date to my dance class? Why show up at all, unless it was to see me again? And if he did want to see me again, why not just ask me for coffee like last time? Then again, maybe he didn’t care about seeing me. Maybe he just wanted to bring Krista with a K to a dance class.

  God knows she needed it.

  After the lesson, I left the music on for open dancing and circulated throughout, helping the men with two left feet and the women who loved them get more comfortable being on the dance floor. “Remember,” I said to one overzealous twenty-something with a bow tie, suspenders, and a bad habit of doing what I call the Mixmaster with his partner’s arm while she was trying to turn. “You don’t need to be fancy. Just lift that arm, lead gently with the hand on her back, and she’ll follow.”

  Charlie and Krista must have slipped out during the open dancing portion of the night, because at one point I glanced over to where they’d been standing, and noticed they were gone. I exhaled, feeling both relief and disappointment. Oh well, I guess that’s that.

  After the last student had left, I sent my assistant home and locked myself in. The new vinyl flooring for the downstairs room had finally arrived—paid for by a loan from dear old dad as an early Christmas gift—and this weekend was the perfect chance for me to get it down. But first I had to tear out the old wood. Nick and Lucas had started the process for me earlier today, and although they’d implored me to wait until they could come back to help, I wanted to get it done. They could help me lay the new plywood subfloor on Friday or Saturday, and I’d also need help unpacking the huge, heavy vinyl rolls.

  I changed from my skirt, blouse, and heels into a tank top, leggings, and sneakers, piled my hair on top of my head, and pulled on the work gloves Nick had left for me.

  Two hours later, I collapsed in a heap, leaning back against the wall. Maybe the guys had been right and I should have waited for them. Rusty nails littered the ground, the dust was enough to choke an army, and my arms were sore from breaking and yanking out the old oak 2 x 4’s. Tired and thirsty, I considered calling it a night and coming back in the morning, even though I was only about half done. But then I remembered I was scheduled to serve at the soup kitchen tomorrow before two o’clock dinner at my mother’s. I’d have to come back tomorrow night. Groaning, I’d gotten to my feet, planning to attack a few more boards when I heard pounding on the studio’s front door.

  Immediately my heart jumped into my throat. Who the hell was here so late at night? I glanced at the clock over the stereo—it was after eleven. The studio was located in a strip mall of stores that were closed already, and I’d turned out the lights in the front. No one knew I was here except—

  Bang bang bang!

  I picked up my phone and a solid 2 x 4 before slipping into the dark hallway and tiptoeing up to the front. The door was glass, so as soon as I got close, I’d be able to see who it was if I turned on the light above the entrance. Hunching over so whoever it was wouldn’t see me first, I got behind the desk and flipped the switch. Then I peeked.

  Charlie.

  Heart thudding in relief and surprise, I moved around the desk, unlocked the door and opened it. Cold, wintry air rushed in with him, and the smell of Autumn Orgasm smote me once more. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to help.” He held up a white bag in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other. “And I brought you something.”

  “From Ottava Via?”

  “No, from a little Irish pub I like near there. Ottava Via was really crowded, and I didn’t feel like waiting around with Krista.”

  My feet itched to do a little happy dance. “Did you tell her that?”

  “No. I told her I was tired, and then she ran into friends on their way to The Sugar House, so she decided to hang with them tonight.”

  “You lied to your date? Officer Dwyer, I’m appalled at this misconduct.”

  He shrugged. “She bugs me. And I kept thinking about you here alone, working. Didn’t sit right with me, with all that’s been going on.”

  “So you wanted to make sure I was safe?”

  “I guess so. Yeah.”

  “How nice of you.”

  “I know.” He shook his head in disbelief. “What’s with that?”

  I slugged him gently on the shoulder with my 2 x 4. “So what did you bring me? I’m hungry.”

  “Burger and fries. Some Irish stout.”

  “You’re speaking my language, Officer Dwyer. We can add burgers to the list.”

  He handed me the food and beer. “Let me go grab some tools from my car so I can help you. Be right back.”

  We cracked open two beers, and while I ate, Charlie got to work tearing out floorboards. He was much faster at it than I was, and had another quarter of it done within about twenty minutes. Pretty soon there was nothing but a three foot strip along the back of the room. “Take a b
reak.” I opened another beer for him and held it out. “Come sit. Watch your head on the barre.”

  He tossed his hammer into his tool box and dropped down next to me, ducking under the barre to lean back against the wall.

  I watched his mouth on the lip of the bottle. “Thanks for helping me tonight. You’re much faster at this than me.”

  “I can see that.” He elbowed me. “You’re welcome. How was the burger?”

  “Delicious.”

  He glanced down at the bag on the floor, where I’d discarded some toppings, and frowned. “You took off all the good stuff.”

  “No, I didn’t. I took off the onion, lettuce, and tomato.”

  “Why?”

  “Because salad does not belong on top of a burger. It goes on the side.”

  He looked sideways at me. “Wait a minute. Are you one of those people who doesn’t like her food to touch?”

  I lifted my shoulders. “Not really.”

  Confession: I’m one of those people who doesn’t like her food to touch.

  He groaned. “You are, aren’t you? Figures.” Bringing his beer to his mouth again, he took a long swallow.

  “Hey listen. I’m very appreciative of the burger and the help. Can we leave it at that and not argue, please?”

  “I’m not arguing. I’m making fun of you.”

  I gave him a dirty look, and he laughed.

  “OK, sorry. I won’t do it anymore, even though you make it so easy.” He nudged my leg with his. “I liked your class tonight. You’re a good teacher.”

  Swallowing, I placed my palm on my chest. “Was that an actual compliment? My heart’s all aflutter!”

  “It was, and you’re welcome. Don’t get used to it.” He drank again. “You put your alarm in yet?”

  I nodded imperiously, picking up my beer. “As a matter of fact, I did. Are you proud of me?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am.” He clinked his bottle against mine.

  “Any more news on the burglar? Or burglars?” I pushed the big carton of fries between us so we could share what was left, but Charlie poked them back toward me.

  “You finish them. You need a little more meat on your bones.” This with a glance at my less-than-Krista-sized breasts. “And no, nothing new on those guys. They’ve hit a few more houses since yours, mostly people who still leave their garages or cars or back doors unlocked. Which kills me, because it’s not like these guys are breaking in.”

  I ignored his dig at my lack of rack and picked up some fries. “That’s crazy. I can’t believe people are so dumb. I mean, I did it too, but after all the warnings in the news…” Shaking my head, I shoveled some fries in my mouth. They were cold but still crispy and mouth-wateringly salty. Give me salt over sweet any day.

  “It’s not just being dumb. People are too trusting. They always think something bad won’t happen to them. These guys are taking advantage of that, and getting away with it.”

  “You don’t think they’ll be caught?” The thought distressed me. Even if I didn’t get my stuff back, I wanted the guy who’d violated my privacy to be punished.

  He shrugged. “Not every asshole gets punished. But if I do find the one that broke into your house, I plan on serving up a little justice of my own.”

  “What kind of justice?”

  “The kind that’s dispensed by my fists.”

  I glanced at his hands. He had strong, thick hands. A scar on one knuckle. Workingman’s hands, but with clean fingernails. Nice long fingers. Mmm, his fingers. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

  “Fuck the rules.” The stubborn set of his profile and the heat beneath his words told me he took my break-in seriously. And personally.

  “Thanks.”

  “You can thank me after I kick his ass.”

  “I will. I’d like to watch. And mind you, I am not a person who enjoys violence. But I think I’d enjoy that.”

  “Makes two of us.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, me munching French fries and getting a little worked up at the thought of Charlie kicking somebody’s ass for me, of seeing him aroused to violence on my behalf. Something fluttered between my legs, and I crossed them at the ankle.

  Charlie finished up his second beer, but I thought I’d better stick to one tonight—two, and I was liable to invite him to back to my house for a little more drilling. The memory of being bent over that island hit me again, and I closed my eyes, squeezing my thighs together just for a second. Jesus. That orgasm was so intense. Why should it be that intense with someone I’m not in love with? It didn’t seem fair. Could I justify sleeping with Charlie? Because if he was that good with his hands, imagine how good he was with his—

  He laughed.

  My eyes snapped open. “What’s funny?”

  “You. You just moaned.”

  “What?”

  “You moaned just now, and your eyes were closed. What were you thinking about?”

  “Uh, these fries.” I shoved the last one in my mouth and chewed frantically.

  “Erin.” He put a hand on my leg. “What were you thinking about? I want to know.”

  I swallowed. Should I just tell him the truth? I barely knew Charlie. I barely liked Charlie. But maybe it was because I didn’t like him all that much that I figured I might as well be honest. What did I have to lose? After a breath, I looked him in the eye. “I was thinking about that night in my kitchen.”

  “Yeah? What about it?”

  And I heard it—the low, hushed tone. He’s turned on too. “I liked it.”

  “You, a person who does not enjoy violence, liked being coerced in the dark like that? Forced to do what I wanted you to?”

  “Yes. Does that surprise you?”

  “Actually,” he said slowly, “it scares me a little.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know what I would have done to you if the lights hadn’t come back on.”

  My stomach cartwheeled. “Turn off the lights and do it now.”

  He inhaled and exhaled, deep and controlled. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

  For a few seconds, neither of us moved. I imagined that in his mind he was debating the wisdom of subjecting me to more coercion. I’d said I liked things dirty, but he must have recognized that I hadn’t had much experience. It had probably been obvious by my stunned, faltering reactions to his words and his hands. But it had also been obvious that I enjoyed it, right?

  What was he afraid of?

  Confession: I was afraid too. Of being rejected, of being in over my head, of being wrong about my inclinations.

  But mostly I was turned on. And curious. And bored with the Naughty Rabbit.

  Bring on the Naughty Cop.

  “Charlie.” I set my beer bottle down and got on my hands and knees. “Show me.”

  He looked down at my wrists and circled one with his fingers. “Don’t. Move.”

  With powerful agility, he popped to his feet and moved for the door, covering the distance in three huge strides. Left on my hands and knees at the back of the room, I felt caged but poised to escape, as if something trapped inside me was about to be set free. Insane energy radiated throughout my limbs, and my breaths were loud, louder even than my heartbeat.

  A moment later, I heard the deadbolt on the front door thrown shut, and Charlie appeared again in the doorway. Glancing at the light panel just inside the room, he flipped down all the switches but one—a row of spotlights along the mirror. Then he walked slowly to a back corner of the room, about ten feet from me.

  “Come here,” he said quietly. “On your hands and knees.”

  Pulse racing, I crawled toward him, my eyes on his. When I reached his feet, I sat back on my heels. And saw the handcuffs dangling from his fingers.

  Two sets.

  And they weren’t pink.

  “Put your hands up.”

  I raised my bare arms over my head, my lower lip trembling when he came at me.

  He moved so fast.r />
  In three heartbeats he had me cuffed to the barre, wrists still crossed over my head, so that I couldn’t move my arms at all. I was on my knees, my back to the wall.

  Charlie stood in front of me, and for a moment I thought he was going to unzip his pants and put in a request for that blowjob he’d mentioned at my house. I’d have done it, but it dismayed me a little not to have my hands free. My blowjob choreography is pretty good, I think, but it does require the use of my hands and fingers.

  But Charlie had other ideas.

  First, he pulled my hair free from the knot at the back of my head, letting it tumble down over my shoulders. Next, he knelt in front of me and ran his fingertips slowly from my wrists to my elbows, down my triceps to my ribcage, down my waist to my hips. I shivered in anticipation, my nipples tingling. What was he going to do to me? Sliding his palms back up my sides, he pushed the thin black cotton tank up over my breasts, letting his thumbs linger on the hard pink tips peeking through black lace.

  Oh my God. I shivered so hard the cuffs rattled above my head.

  “Sensitive?” He rubbed his thumbs over them in tiny, toe-curling circles.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I like that.”

  My stomach whooshed.

  He flicked open the front clasp of my bra and lowered his head, teasing one stiff peak with his tongue, and then the other. Returning to the first, he sucked it into his mouth, pinching the other one between his fingertips. Hard. I flinched, and he closed his teeth around my nipple, holding it there and flicking it with his tongue.

  More cuff rattling. A little whimpering too. Warmth bloomed between my legs, and I widened them slightly. I wanted him to touch me there. I needed it. “Charlie.” His name on my lips was a plea.

  “Patience, sweet thing.” He straightened, brushing the backs of his fingers softly across my stinging nipples, then lightly rubbing tiny circles on each crest with the pads of his thumbs. Pure lust shot straight to my core, and my wrists snapped hard against the metal. He laughed quietly, bringing his thumbs to the center of my chest and trailing them in a line down to my belly button. My stomach quivered beneath his touch. “I know you’re anxious, and I am too, but I can’t have the Homecoming Queen handcuffed and helpless before me and not tease her just a little bit.”