After Tonight Read online

  “I can’t make you forgive me. And, you know what? Maybe you shouldn’t. But I’m going to ask you to, anyway.”

  I meet his gaze then. “Why?”

  He blinks a few times and then, before I can even breathe, he’s hovering over me. He reaches out and lets his thumb run along my jaw and drag down to my pulse point, which, as always, is throbbing at his nearness.

  “Because I’ve never met anyone like you. You stand up for yourself and you fight for what you want. You seem shy, but you’re really fucking brave, and I see that in you.”

  I can feel my lip tremble. When he dips even closer, I can feel his breath on my skin.

  “I want you, Hyacinth. Not just because you’re sexy. Not just because you were unavailable to me.”

  He lets his lips fall to my cheek, sweeping down and resting at the corner of my mouth.

  “I want you because you’re sweet enough to remind me that there’s still good in this world. I’m surrounded by crime and drugs and terrible shit every day. I don’t get a lot of time off and I never take leave. But you—you feel like a vacation to me every time I touch you. And I don’t want to lose that.”

  Well, hell. When he puts it that way . . .

  I shift my face until our lips align and I kiss him.

  It’s a closed-mouth, slow kiss that I initiate at first. Then, feeling a little bolder, I let my tongue flicker out along the seam of his lips. He makes a rumbling sound deep in his chest, then circles my waist with both arms and hauls me against him.

  “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

  He devours my mouth then, letting his tongue take over and his lips play second fiddle. For the moment, I’m content to enjoy the ride, to enjoy being led instead of leading him. The truth is that I don’t want to have to be Smith’s teacher now. I think it’s about time for him to teach me a thing or two.

  He buries his face in my neck, breathing hard and I tug a little on his hair until he looks up at me.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to do this here,” I say quietly.

  He quirks a brow. “You think?”

  “Yeah.” I smile. “Probably not appropriate.”

  “Hmm.” He places a finger against his lips as though he’s pondering a thought. “Then how about this: I’m going to go finish up my debriefing, and then I’ll come pick you up at your house.”

  “Pick me up for what?”

  He grins. “For our first date.”

  “First date, huh?”

  “Yep.” He nods. “A totally legit, real-as-shit date. You should wear a dress. It’ll be that kind of night.”

  I let my eyes run over his body and the crisp blue shirt and black pants he’s rocking beneath his badge.

  “Are you going to wear your uniform?”

  His smile turns wickedly knowing, and he leans in a little closer. “Do you want me to wear my uniform?”

  I shrug, trying and failing to look nonchalant. “Maybe.”

  “We’ll it is my duty to protect and serve you.” He kisses me then, long and slow, before pulling away. “So, I’ll see you at your house—give me an hour or so.”

  I nod. “I’ll be there.”

  He gives me a sexy little smile.

  “So . . . should I bring my handcuffs, too?”

  I eye him then. “Don’t push it, Officer Asher.”

  He winks at me before I head out the door. “Of course not, Miss Hendricks. I would hate to get another detention.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Commencement

  I guess you define some dates by dinner. Or a movie. Our first official date was a really long walk.

  “Do you think it’s cliché to head to the harbor for a first date?” Smith asks as we round the corner of the Baltimore Aquarium. We stop for a second to watch a few boats nearby as they rocked gently in their slips. I smile at him, then shake his head.

  “Nope. Not at all.” Smith’s mouth kicks up on one side. “Damn. I was sort of going for literary standards here—walk on the water, kissing in the moonlight. All that bullshit.”

  I laugh as he puts both hands on my waist and brings me closer to him.

  “I’m not sure the word ‘bullshit’ usually factors into the sweeping romances of literature.”

  He shrugs, still smiling.

  “I guess we’re just breaking the mold then, Hyacinth.”

  I grin up at him. “I guess so.”

  When I rock up on my toes to kiss Smith Asher—in public, in front of people—it feels as magical as any fairy tale.

  “So, now what? Any requests?” Smith’s voice is gruff, and when I look at him, he shoots me a sexy half smile.

  I shrug a little, feeling my cheeks redden, and I’m glad that we’re in the mostly-dark of the evening.

  “Honestly?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’d love to head back to my apartment . . . ,” I say, fiddling with my purse strap. Smith wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him again.

  “Your wish is my command.”

  The drive back to my place is quiet. There’s low music playing on the radio but I’m not paying one bit of attention. My entire body feels attuned to Smith’s—so much so that when we finally park outside my apartment, I honestly think I might actually burst into flames. Instead, he opens his door and gets out of the truck, coming around to the passenger’s side to open my door, too. I slide out and he immediately cages me in against the side of the truck.

  “Let me be clear, Hyacinth Hendricks. I have every intention of staying here all night. And I have every intention of not letting you sleep while I’m here. I’m going to do every single thing I can think of to you, with you, and for you.”

  Smith runs a finger along the deep V of my dress’s collar and rests it just above my cleavage.

  “So, before we head upstairs,” he murmurs, leaning in closer to my ear, “I want to clarify that this is an acceptable course of action.”

  I swallow hard, then lick my lips.

  “Lead the way.”

  His grin is a thousand watts when he tilts back to look in my eyes.

  “You know what? There is nowhere in the world I’d rather be than right here, right now, with you.”

  And I actually believe him. Smith’s done his best to be honest with me, or as honest as he can be, about his job. He told me about growing up with Eric and how much he wanted to be like him. He explained what it’s like to work undercover and how he had to “drop out” of Franklin to really get J. D. to trust him.

  “I needed to be like him,” he’d sort of growled. “And that was the hardest part. After what he did to you—all I wanted to do every second I was near him was punch his fucking lights out.”

  But, right now, neither of us is thinking about J. D. Fenton or undercover operatives or anything but each other. I climb the stairs to my floor and I swear I can feel his gaze, branding me with his hot stare. I want to squirm, want to crawl out of my clothes as soon as I walk in the apartment door.

  But I don’t. Instead, I unlock it, push it open, and stop dead in my tracks.

  Holy. Shit.

  There are hyacinths everywhere.

  They’re in pots along the kitchen pass-through. They’re in jars and vases around the living room. There’s even a small plant next to the front door.

  I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Smith slips in front of me and tilts my chin up to look at him.

  “Happy Graduation, Cyn.”

  I blink at him. “You did this?”

  He shrugs. “Carson helped a lot actually—when you and Rainey left for the ceremony, she let me in to arrange them.”

  I pivot slowly in a circle, taking in everything—every blossom, every stem—and I have to blink back tears.

  “Is it too much?”

  I glance over my shoulder at Smith, who looks a little worried now. I shake my head.

  “Are you kidding?”

  I walk toward him and wrap my arms around his waist. He
pulls me closer, and for a long moment we just stand there, wrapped up in each other and breathing the same spring-scented air.

  “It’s perfect,” I finally say, my words muffled against his shirt. “You’re perfect.”

  He snorts softly, then pulls back to look down at me. “Not even close, baby. But you make me want to be.”

  He dips his head then and captures my mouth with his. I let my hands slide up his sides and over his shoulders. The muscles flex beneath my fingertips and I sigh into his mouth.

  Smith sort of groans then and takes my mouth with even more vigor, reminding me of exactly what tonight is going to entail. His tongue flicks against my lips, questing inside and tasting everything I have to offer him. I press against him, my breasts feeling heavy and full, and I let the friction between our bodies only extend that aching need.

  His kisses travel to my neck, and I tilt back to give him better access. As he nips and licks and sucks my skin, he lets his hands coast down my stomach and thighs, then grips the sheer material of my dress. Second later, he’s pulled it up and over my head, and I’m standing in my living room in nothing but a black bra and panties.

  “Fuck me,” Smith mutters as his eyes coast over my body.

  Yeah, that’s the idea.

  He saunters toward me and, before I can take a breath, his lips are coasting along the crests of my breasts and my mouth is nipping at his bare skin of his shoulder. I scrape my teeth along a prominent, taut tendon along his neck and Smith groans. For a second, he pauses, his eyes dark with desire, then he hauls me up by my hips. I wrap my legs around his waist without even thinking twice.

  Once we make it to my bed, he tosses me in the middle and I want to laugh, but his expression is so fierce, so full of want, that I can only lick my lips. He yanks his shirt off the rest of the way, then flicks the top button of his dress pants open. His eyebrows lift as I start to undo the zipper.

  Mere moments later, Smith is on top of me then, and the space between us is nonexistent, just the way I like it. His bare skin is pressed against mine, and I move my hands behind his neck to pull his mouth to mine. Seconds later, though, he’s got them pinned to the pillow on either side of my head.

  “I think you’ve had enough ‘upper hand’ in this relationship,” Smith murmurs, dragging his lips along my jaw. “And I think it’s about time I taught you a lesson or two.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, really now?”

  “Yeah. Really. Now.”

  And then, without warning, he hauls me up and over until I’m lying on my stomach. Smith’s body comes back over mine and I can feel his hardness pressing against my lower back.

  “This,” he says, placing my hands back near my head and lacing his fingers through mine, “is your first lesson, Miss Hendricks.”

  “And what’s my assignment?” I ask, my words half muffled by the pillow. Smith chuckles.

  “To try to lay still. No matter what.”

  I’m about to say something sarcastic when I feel his tongue run over my skin. Goose bumps break out along my back and I have to force myself not to shiver.

  “See, here’s the thing,” Smith says, pausing to place a kiss on each of my shoulder blades, “I think we need to have a more equitable relationship. As my teacher, you got to call all of the shots.”

  “I was never really your teacher,” I mutter.

  “Well, you didn’t know that.”

  Smith’s mouth coasts from my upper back to the base of my spine, where he lingers, letting his tongue travel over my highly sensitized flesh. I desperately want to squirm and he must be able to tell—he moves his hands from clasping mine to pressing my hips into the mattress.

  “Remember the rules,” he scolds, nipping lightly at the small of my back. “Good things come to those who listen.”

  Under ordinary circumstances, that kind of direction would get my back up. Here and now? It’s never been hotter.

  Smith lets his hands move from my hips to the underside of my ass, cupping the globes as though testing their weight. Moving his hands inward, he spreads me open slightly, then clucks his tongue.

  “So wet already. You are so responsive. I’m afraid if I touch you here, it’ll all be over too soon.”

  “No it won’t.” I hope my voice doesn’t sound as desperate to him as it does to me. It must, though, because I can almost hear his smirk when he speaks.

  “Remember what I said about holding still, baby.”

  His thumbs move to spread me wider, then slide up—into my dripping-wet slit that is almost embarrassingly ready for him.

  “Fuck, Hyacinth.”

  Smith moves one hand to slide a single finger inside of me. I arch my back, unable to stop myself. The pleasure is completely intense—it’s as though he’s never touched me before.

  “You like that, baby? You like me finger fucking your pussy?”

  I make a sort of choked noise, but I’m nodding at the same time. Smith talking dirty is just about as hot as it gets.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  I can barely form the words. In fact, my pleasure-saturated voice hardly sounds like my own when I rasp out, “Fuck me. Please, fuck me.”

  “Why?”

  Smith’s question bounces around in my brain as he picks up the pace, adding a second finger and driving me closer and closer to the edge.

  “Because I need it.”

  “What do you need?”

  I swallow. My mouth is dry and I can barely manage to respond.

  “I need you.”

  Suddenly, his fingers are gone and the immediate loss is overwhelming. I start to turn around, to question Smith, when I feel his hand pressing into the center of my back.

  “Be a good girl, Hyacinth,” he murmurs, leaning down so his lips hover just above my ear. “And I might give you a gold star.”

  And with that, he slides into me from behind. His entry is slow, but methodical. As he pulls back, I can feel my wet channel gripping him, protesting his retreat. Then, Smith grips my ankles and slides my legs forward. My knees bend and my ass is effectively up in the air. I almost protest—I can only imagine how I look in this position—when he enters me again.

  “God, you’re tight.”

  Smith pulls back slightly, then slams forward. Involuntarily, my back arches and I keen out a sound I’ve never heard from my own mouth.

  “Yes,” I manage to gasp out as he sets a persistent, pounding rhythm.

  “You like that, baby?”

  I can only nod as he withdraws and surges into me again and again. I grip the sheets with both hands and curl my toes under, reveling in the sound of our bodies slapping against each other and the feeling of damp skin against skin. The friction outside—the friction inside—all of it is delicious and so very necessary. I need Smith this way, right now, more than I need my next breath.

  Smith grips my hips with both hands and, on his next retreat, flips me over onto my back. I gaze up at him and take in his glorious, muscular frame. His hair is disheveled and his eyes are almost smoky with lust. I bite down hard on my bottom lip, and those eyes seem to grow even darker.

  “You know what that does to me, Miss Hendricks,” he practically growls. “I might have to give you detention.”

  With that, he slides into me, hooking both arms around my knees and spreading my legs wide. I’m completely on display for him, and I’d feel self-conscious if it weren’t so fucking hot. I feel my eyes start to close as the pleasure coils and condenses low in my belly.

  “Touch yourself.”

  My eyes fly back open and find Smith’s.

  “What?” I almost stutter the word and he gives me a wicked grin.

  “Touch yourself. Put your hands on those gorgeous tits or that hot pussy and let me watch you do it.”

  I open my mouth to protest, then close it. The truth is that I want to please him. The truth is that I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted anything more.

  Slowly, I slide my hands down over my breasts, cupping e
ach one in my palms before letting my fingers stroke my nipples. They pebble even harder at my touch, and I lick my lips, the intensity of my desire flaring hotter and hotter with every second.

  “God, you’re so fucking sexy.”

  Smith leans forward and licks between my fingers where my nipple rests, and I throw my head back with a groan. His teeth lightly scrape the sensitized flesh before capturing it in his mouth and sucking hard, pressing it against the roof of his mouth until I’m practically keening. And, all the while, he continues to move in and out of me with a pace that would be maddening if it weren’t so damn good.

  “I can’t wait until I feel you come. The way you get all slick and tight around me . . .”

  Smith buries his face in my neck and quickens his thrusts. I reach around and grab onto his shoulders, doing my best to meet him as he surges again and again. I don’t know if it’s the increase in speed or just my body responding to his words, but I can feel my orgasm, just brewing before, beginning to froth and crest.

  “Yes . . .”

  I moan out the word, and Smith bites down lightly on the space where my neck and shoulder meet. And that’s all it takes. My climax seizes me like some kind of otherworldly experience, forcing my body into a state of what can only be compared to weightlessness. Everything feels suspended in that one moment of pure, unadulterated bliss. It’s all the more sweet, more powerful as I feel Smith shudder against me, finishing deep within me as my body just begins to land back on earth.

  For a long moment, the only sound is the breathing between us, harmonious in its own way—despite the fact that we both sound like we’ve run a marathon. After a few more second, Smith props himself up and grins down at me.

  “Good?”

  I sort of smirk at him. “Uh, yeah. You could say that.”

  He rolls over onto his side and pulls me into the crook of his arm. We both look up at the ceiling, and I revel in how warm and comforting his skin feels against mine. Slowly, I close my eyes. I can’t remember the last time I felt this content. This complete.

  “Hyacinth?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Can I tell you something?”

  I yawn, then nod, still not opening my eyes. “Sure.”