All I Want is You (Hearts on Fire Book 1) (4 page)

Ellie’s breath hitches.  Before any rational thought develops, she reaches down and grips the tiny button that holds her skirt together.  Her fingers tremble as she pushes it through the slit.  

She holds the cloth in place for a moment longer— until Jake’s mouth slams into hers— then drops it to the floor.  

Her body shivers, not because the apartment is cold, but because Jake’s warm hand finds the small of her back and pulls her close.

He groans as his lips roam her neck, then trace a line to her ear, pulling gently on her lobe.  On the back of her neck, hair stands taut.  She wraps her arms around him, locks onto his neck, and pulls him back into a kiss.  

 But Jake suddenly breaks it off and leans back.  He looks into Ellie’s eyes.  “I’m crazy for you,” he grins.  His eyes scan her body.  “Since the moment I first saw you outside your apartment,” he pulls the front of her collar, begins to unbutton her shirt from the top, “I need to fuck you.”

A series of flutters ravage Ellie’s stomach.  Her pulse quickens.  She’s suddenly stuck in a game-changing moment she thought she might be ready for, but now that it’s here, she feels woefully unprepared.  She instinctively grabs his hand.  She’s made herself off-limits for so long it’s a natural move.  Only the right man, only a truly good man, could understand her, could love her despite her past.  

Jake gives her a quizzical look.  The moment catches him off guard too.  He’s not used to being told
no.
  

She lowers her eyes.  “I’m different,” she says softly.

“You’re beautiful,” he says without hesitation.

“No, I mean—”

“You’re so innocent, Ellie.  God, I love that about you.”

Ellie’s eyelid twitches and she gives in, releasing his hand from hers.  She doesn’t know how far she’ll go, but she knows she wants more— consequences be damned.  

A smile spreads across Jake’s face.  He picks her up, carries her gently to the bedroom, and lays her softly on the bed.  He glides in next to her.  His hand slides into her shirt, under her bra, cups the soft swell of her breast.  “You’re perfect,” he whispers.  

Ellie lets out a moan and kisses him softly at first.  She covers his hand with hers, presses it tighter against her hard nipple.  Her tongue slides between his moist lips.  She pulls the back of his head tighter to her.    

Her body quivers as Jake’s gentle touch finds the edge of her panties.  He slips a finger inside, runs it down the edge and into her wet center.  She gasps with the sudden rush of intense pleasure.   

“Fuck, Ell, you’re so amazing,” he groans.

Sweet
Jesus,
she feels his erection pressed against her side as he strokes her softly.  “That’s so good,” she manages between labored breaths.  “You’re making me want to be
so
bad.”

“I want it too,” he says, sucking on her earlobe until she moans loudly, her body arching into a shuddering release that leaves her breathless.   “But right now,” he says between his own heavy breaths, “I want you to remain perfect.”

Ellie stares at the note on the kitchen table.

Dear Ellie,

You’re so amazing.  I miss you already.  I’m sorry I had to leave, but something unexpected came up with Charlotte last night, and I fly to San Francisco this morning for the week’s business.

The bag is yours.  Inside are two items.  One is obvious, the other requires an explanation, of which I can’t provide now.  If you take one, you must take the other in trust.  Keep in your apartment until I get back.

Jake

That would be great, Ellie thinks, if I could get into my apartment.

She wants to grab a knife and scratch the word ‘Charlotte’ right out of the letter, but instead, she reaches for the bag and pulls it across the table.  She’s surprised at its weight.  It was empty last night, after she pulled the yoga pants and hoodie out.  It’s much heavier now.  

When she opens it, she finds out why.

She takes a step back in surprise.  Her hand covers her mouth.  
OH. MY. GOD.

At first, she wants to close the bag, head out of the apartment and run to the nearest police station.  Against her own better judgement, however, she knows she won’t— her intimacy with Jake last night somehow precludes it.  

But her fingers tremble, a light sweat breaks on her forehead.  

What kind of explanation could he possibly have for leaving her with a gun?  She knows nothing of whose it is, where it’s been, or worse if it’s been used for something horrible.

Fuck, Jake.

Her mind races, unsure what to do next.  On an impulse, she reaches in and places a finger on the cold barrel of the chrome-plated forty-five.  She picks it up.  

To her surprise, it actually feels comfortable in her hand.  Even more shocking to her is the aching sensation that develops deep in her core.  Jake has suddenly become mysterious, exciting, dangerous.  
This feels so wrong.  
But somehow, she’s turned on.
 
   

She realizes her mistake, however, and finds a towel, wipes off the barrel and handle and puts it back in the bag.  She shakes her head and turns back toward the bedroom, a tight smile breaking across her lips.  

She finds her purse, clasps her necklace back on, inspects the pendant for a moment, then shoves it into the hoodie, down onto her chest.

She returns to the note, remembers the other item.  Back in the bag, she finds the key.  Her apartment!

The reminder on her phone buzzes.

Shit, s
he silences it.  She’s late for her appointment.  

She grabs the bag, throws the strap over her shoulder, walks to the front door and steps out into the hallway, but doesn’t let go.  She turns and looks back, wondering if she's making a good decision.  

She
could
leave the bag behind and just walk away.  She would probably be fine.  But then again, where would she go?  Where would she spend the night?  How would she get her notebook?  

Her story is due tomorrow.  She can't mess that up.  It's the only thing she has.  

With her apartment in mind, she lets go of her hold on the door.  It begins to close as she takes a step away, but she suddenly second guesses herself and turns back around.  
He’s not worth this risk.
 

She lunges for the door, but is too late.  She pushes on it, but it’s latched.  She tries the handle, but it’s locked.  
Fuck.  Double fuck.  
There’s no turning back now.

She looks at her apartment door, but keeps walking, checking the time on her phone and cursing herself for her inability to get her act together.  

No one will know what’s in the bag, she convinces herself.   

On the sidewalk, she reconsiders.  She surveys the looks, the eyes, of everyone who walks by to see if they’re looking at her, and more importantly, if they see the bag hanging by her hip.  The weight of the gun bounces against her, then away as she walks.   She is miles from comfortable.

And then she spots them.  

Less than two blocks from her apartment building, two cops walk down the street, their eyes fixed directly upon her.

***

A thick sweat covers her forehead.  She hasn’t relaxed since she first noticed them.   “I told you I don’t know a Mr. Knox,” Ellie says for the third time, her frustration expressed through her rapid breaths.  Her index finger and thumb press against her temples.  A severe case of déjà vu overwhelms her. 

“Then what were you doing in his apartment last night?” the tall dark-haired officer asks.

The other officer tilts his chin up and raises his brows.  “You’re going to be much better off cooperating with us.”

“Maybe a trip down to the station will jog her memory,” the tall one says.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know who you’re talking about.  That’s my apartment building,” Ellie points.  “That’s… where I live.”

The tall officer inspects Ellie’s face.  He rubs his chin, unsatisfied with her response.

The other officer is more forgiving.  “Just do yourself a favor and stay away from him,” he says as he reaches into the front pocket of his shirt.  “Give us a call if anything comes up that you want to talk about.”  He hands her his card and turns toward his partner.  He tugs at his arm as he begins to walk away, but the tall officer doesn’t budge.  

Instead, he leans closer to Ellie.  So close, that the smell of cheap burnt coffee on his breath paralyzes her with a strange and discomforting sense that this isn’t the first time she’s been interrogated by a police officer, though there’s no specific incident she can remember.

“Just watch yourself,” the tall officer says through clenched teeth.  “We will be too.
”
 

In a well-appointed office, a man with thin-rimmed glasses stands looking out his window.   He loosens a plaid tie and unbuttons the top button of his white-collared, blue dress shirt.  His cuffs are already rolled, halfway up his forearms.  “You’ve had a hell of a morning,” he turns toward Ellie, “of that there is no doubt, but we only have an hour this morning.  Instead of your tardiness, we’d better focus on what you’re here for.”

“I was hoping today would be the day,” Ellie looks up at him from the soft leather couch.  

“It could take some time,” the man says.  “As we get further into your treatment, we hope to have some discoveries.  I just don’t want you to get your hopes up and be disappointed every time you come in.  Better to have patience and know we’re making progress, however fast or slow.  We’re working toward the goal each time.”

“I know, but the second part of my story is due tomorrow, so I really need to figure this out, anything to keep the progress on that going.  What about sedative-hypnotherapy?  I read about that.”

The man takes off his glasses and wipes them clean with a tissue from his desk.  “I prefer more standard, and field-accepted techniques, such as hypnosis itself, without the use of sedatives.  It’s a step beyond the guided-imagery techniques we’ve been trying.  I think that’s going to be a better approach.  If you’d like to explore that we can schedule as early as later this week.  I’ll have Jane check my appointments and schedule something for us if you’re willing to take that step.”

I’ll try anything
.  “Is it at all possible to do it sooner?”

“We can check with Jane, and if there are any cancellations, we’ll make it happen.  So, let’s turn now to your current progress.  Have the free-writing exercises I asked you to do yielded any discoveries?”

Ellie takes a deep breath.  “I drafted some visions of the room.”  She closes her eyes and tries to draw it back up in her mind.  “It’s pretty stark, not much in it.  Just me lying on an old dirty, torn-up couch— the only place to sleep in the room.  In another draft, there’s a man standing next to me.”

“Can you describe him?  His height?  Is he thin, overweight, muscular?  What kind of hair does he have?”

Ellie turns her head and looks out the window.  “He’s tall and thin, dressed in jeans and a ripped, paint-stained brown T-shirt.  His face is a blur, except for the inch and half of ash hanging from a cigarette stuck between his lips.”

“Anything else you can recall about him?”

“Yes, the skin on his arms, which looks weathered like that of an older man, maybe in his thirties or forties— remember, I was five at the time— his skin is bruised, up his forearms and at the creases of his elbows.”

“Okay, good Ellie.  Do you remember what kind of hair he had?”

“No, that’s about where it ended.”

“Okay, that’s good progress,” he nods.  “What about other drafts?

“This,” she reaches for her pendant and shows it to him.  “When I look back, toward the door,
this
is lying on the floor.  I can’t take my eyes off of it.  I can smell the acrid smoke, even today.  It’s in my nose, like permanent.”

“Interesting,” he jots down some notes.  “The man?  Is he in this vision also?”

“He was,” Ellie looks up at him.

“Anything about the rest of the room?  Any other details come to mind?”

Ellie’s expression goes blank, she lowers her eyes.  “Yeah, there’s one thing,” she says softly.  

“What is it?” the man asks.

“There’s fresh blood all over the wall
.
”

“I slept with Tanner Knox,” Naomi says with a proud grin on her face.

Ellie’s mouth drops.  “Tanner K-N-O-X?” she draws his name out in disbelief.  She was fully prepared to drop the bomb of the gun story on Naomi— the only person she could realistically tell— but that’s impossible now.  “I thought Tanner was—”

“Fucking Charlotte?” Naomi interrupts.  

“Not your type, I was going to say.  But I have to say, it’s a relief to know she was—”

“What the hell’s that mean?” Naomi raises her brows.  “I tell you I’m with someone and you’re glad to know he’s sleeping with someone else?”  She looks off in the other direction.

“No.  No, that’s not what I meant… at all,” Ellie reaches for Naomi’s arm.  “I actually thought maybe Charlotte… this sounds so crazy now…  I thought maybe Jake and her had a thing.”

“What?” Naomi jerks her head back around and chuckles.  “That’s ridiculous.  Jake is way too upscale for her.  That would
never
happen.”

“I realize that now, but seriously, you should have seen them at the club last night, the way they were bickering with each other, like young lovers,” Ellie snarls.  “God, I feel so stupid now.”

“Whatever, she’s on her way out,” Naomi reassures her.  “Tanner told me last night she fucked up for the last time.  She went to the hospital.”

“Seriously?”  Ellie’s eyes widen with surprise.

“Yeah, Tan says she’s had a problem for a while.  Both he and Jake were trying to help her.  They kind of took her under their wings, but she wouldn’t accept it.  Anyway, he said if she messed up one more time, and that time was last night, they were sending her to Arizona for treatment.  So listen,” she puts her hand on Ellie’s arm.  A lascivious grin pulls her lips up at the corners.  “I’m totally with you on the beard thing now,” she looks around, “
especially
between my legs… umh!” she licks her lips.  “So hot.”

“GOD,” Ellie laughs.  “Can’t possibly have a serious conversation with you….” But her face warms too.  She’s never had that experience herself— even if she had discussed the concept with Naomi.  “How’d that come about?”

Naomi smiles.  “After you guys left, Tanner came into the club.  First time he’s been there in a while.  Said the house was crazy and he had to get out.  We had some drinks at closing and before I knew it, his driver was opening the door, and
I
was getting in… if you know what I mean.”

“I’m certain I do,” Ellie smiles.

“His driver just drove us around for a while, maybe an hour, maybe two, I have no idea.  Then when we got to the townhouse, we found Charlotte.  It was horrible.”

“What was?” Ellie asks.

Naomi glances around.  Her voice softens.  “She was unconscious... with blood coming out of her nose.”

“HOLY SHIT.  What did you guys do?”

“Keep your voice down,” Naomi’s eyes dart back and forth, across the busy coffee shop.  “Some of these people are actually trying to enjoy their morning coffee in peace.”  

“They’re in the wrong city for that,” Ellie says.

In a hushed tone, Naomi continues, “Charlotte must have texted Jake before we got there, before she was unconscious, because he was there with a paramedic.”

“That explains a lot.”

“Yeah.” Naomi agrees.  

“No, I mean, Jake was with me when I fell asleep last night,” Ellie grins, “but when I woke up this morning, he wasn’t there.”

“He had a glazed look in his eyes.  I thought maybe you had just fucked him senseless.”  

“NO,” Ellie pushes Naomi’s arm, causing some of her coffee to splash out of the cup she’s holding.  “And I don’t get the sense that
I’d
be the one fucking
him
senseless either.”

“I'm tellin you, girl, there’s a tiger inside, just waiting….
”