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FIRST, I LOVE YOU
By Genevieve Dewey
Copyright 2012 by Genevieve Dewey, All Rights Reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to living persons is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
(Warning: sexual content.)
CHAPTER EIGHT
James
The trouble with princesses is their utter sense of self-entitlement, James thought.
It wasn’t his job to keep tabs on mob princesses, but this one was sort of a hobby. Others did Sudoku, he did Kiki watching. Not in a creepy stalker sort of way, just casually, like one followed a soap opera or reality TV show. He could totally see her making an episode of Mob Wives Chicago once she went ahead and followed her destiny to become the wife of a dirt-bag criminal. No, he didn’t follow her around, or even run background checks on her. He didn’t have to. Katherine Downey was always in the news since she and her father had moved here from New York five years before.
The society news, that is. She appeared to be fond of benefit parties, charities involving animals, and from the sounds of her ‘blog’, shopping and more shopping. He never knew if he felt sorry for her, or fascinated by such an utter waste of a life. Beautiful, pampered, and useless. When Detective Gates had revealed his connection to Downey, his first thought had been how useful Tommy’s father could be in opening some doors for them, and his second thought, much later in his hotel room, was how ironic it was that his favorite source of amusement in the papers, besides the comics, was the sister of his new partner. Funny how life throws curveballs like that.
“So, just out of curiosity, how did you get her to come?” James asked. He kept an eye on Bonanno who was arguing with his daughter and throwing furious glances in the direction in which Downey and Mary Gates had left.
“I told her that Daddy would be away on a business trip and since Mom wouldn’t be here to interfere, it’d be nice to have her here for Tommy to not feel so lonely, and then she could have a nice vacation. I sort of said it was just us and a few close friends meeting up in the restaurant,” Kiki answered tonelessly, still looking beseechingly at her brother.
She looked like she was going to cry. James hated it when women cried. He felt like they used it as a weapon more often than not. Even his sisters, both with the Bureau and ordinarily tough as nails, did the crying thing when words failed. He looked over at Tommy, hoping he would field this one, since she was his sister after all. Tommy started to move towards the door, but Kiki grabbed his arm and turned him to look at her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
James watched in fascination as Tommy smiled a crooked smile and brushed a curl behind her ear.
“I know, Kicks, you meant well. I’ll take care of it,” he said gently, kissed her forehead, and then moved off.
James didn’t think Tommy ought to be comforting the girl for what she had recklessly put in motion and Tommy would now have to clean up, but he knew what it was like as a brother to think the best of your siblings.
“Kicks?” James asked.
“Tommy’s nickname for me. Because I love shoes so much,” she answered with a bite to her tone and a challenge in her face.
Oh, did the little kitten want to play? James thought.
He stepped right in front of her. “You know, it occurs to me, Katherine, we could be quite useful to each other,” he said, smiling his most ingratiating smile and scanning her head to toe.
Hell, if a woman was going to go out of her way to wear so little, a man might as well enjoy the show, right?
James heard a throat clearing and remembered Ginny was still standing next to them. He turned his gaze from Kiki’s narrowed eyes to raise a questioning eyebrow at his colleague. She looked somewhere between flabbergasted and offended.
On whose behalf? James wondered.
“Yes, Agent Sommers?” he asked as polite as he could muster. He still hadn’t gotten over her crashing the party on his own home field. True, he was also crashing the party, but again, this was his territory and she was supposed to be back in DC, not sweet-talking Detective Gates into a date. He had clearly underestimated her ambitiousness.
“You were going to show me the restroom, Kiki,” Ginny said pointedly.
Kiki was clearly flustered and unsure. She kept twirling a lock of her curly, dark-brown hair and darting glances around the room. James wanted to press his advantage and didn’t appreciate Ginny blocking him, especially since they had made a pretty good tag team just days before. He needed to convince Tommy to get Downey on board, or at least to use his connection to gather information, and Kiki was another way to accomplish this, maybe even an entirely different route in. But here was Agent Sommers trying to nip that in the bud. Was this a gender solidarity thing or did she think it was a dead end?
James shrugged his shoulders and walked around Kiki, deliberately stopping right behind her and leaning down so his head was next to her ear.
“It was nice meeting you, Katherine, but I don’t want to miss out on the next Act of this little family drama you created,” he said, smiling with satisfaction when she shivered a bit. Her hair smelled like piña coladas, and he was surprised she didn’t wear any perfume. His smile slid off a bit as he caught his partner’s stony, obviously disapproving, FBI face. Ok, so maybe he was crossing some conduct lines here.
But it’s not like she was some little innocent, James thought as he walked away. And they weren’t here on official business anyway. Sighing in frustration at the missed opportunity, he noticed that O’Rourke had made it to the party, but he carried on to the entrance to accidentally-on-purpose run into Tommy and his parents.
“Let me at least take you back to your hotel,” Downey was saying as James slipped into the hallway.
“I can do that,” Tommy interjected hastily.
Mary Gates let out a ‘tuh’ and rolled her eyes.
“I’m staying right here. Kiki reserved the room. I have a spa treatment tomorrow, the whole works. I’m perfectly fine, like I’ve already told both of you. It was just a shock that’s all. Don’t be upset with the girl. I’m sure she means well,” she said.
“And like I said, you’re more than welcome to stay. Don’t run off because of me,” Downey said.
Tommy was frowning at both of them.
“I didn’t,” she said with her chin up. “It’s just that big parties aren’t my thing. You know that, Michael.”
Michael? So formal… James thought.
“My memory is just as good as it ever was, Mary girl,” Downey replied softly.
Mary flushed, opened her mouth, and then shut it again in a firm line. She turned to Tommy who was glaring at his father and gripping and ungripping his fists like he didn’t know what to do with them.
“Tommy, maybe you can walk me to my room,” she said.
Tommy nodded and placed his hand at his mother’s back, then walked to the elevator with her. Downey was wearing that same look of frustrated longing on his face he had in the limo the other day. There was silence as the elevator pinged.
“You just gonna stand there, Jimmy?” Downey finally said without turning from staring at the elevator.
“It’s James. I don’t like nicknames much. Just a quirk,” James replied, rocking back on his heels, hands in his pockets.
“You call my son Thomas then?” Downey asked, finally turning and walking towards James.
“For myself, I mean. Some party you’re throwing for your daughter here. Noticed a few of your friends in attendance,” James said.
“Mmmmn. And how’s it come that you’re here tonight? Tommy didn’t mention inviting two Feds to the party,” Downey said, voice all velvety steel, eyes cold as ice.
Good ol’ Pops has left the building and mobster Mickey was in the house, James thought cynically.
“The Honorable John Dobson is my mother’s middle brother. Maybe he thought it better for his reputation not to attend. Maybe he let me come instead, seeing as I’m a friend of Kiki’s brother,” James answered, certain butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
“Oh? And how is it for your reputation, Agent Hoffman? And let’s cut the bullshit. You’ve known my son a matter of days. I don’t care if the two of you bonded over donuts and polishing the shiny pieces of tin you call badges, you will not use my family to get to me. You got something to say, man up and say it. Understood?” Downey gritted out, every word enunciated with clear menace.
James met his gaze and didn’t blink. He let the silence stretch.
“How much do you know about the case we’re working on?” James finally asked.
“My son doesn’t share the details of his work with me. And I don’t share the details of mine. That would be… inappropriate. Don’t you think?” Downey replied, eyebrow arched.
James nodded, rocking on his heels again.
“Thing is…” James trailed off, narrowing his eyes, but maintaining eye contact. “The thing is, aren’t you retired?”
“And?” Downey asked, clearly irritated at James’ prying.
James sighed. He knew he wasn’t going to gain traction with Downey tonight. He shrugged, then assumed his more relaxed stance, the one that usually put people at ease, even the criminal types.
“For the record, I do consider Tommy a friend, regardless of how long we’ve known each other,” James said sincerely.
Downey said nothing, clearly unmoved by James’ body language or tone. After a moment, Downey walked back down the hall and into the party without looking back. James thought about the persons of interest in the other room and tried to decide if it was worth returning to the party as well.
May be better to let Ginny win this round, he thought.
“What did you mean by we could be useful to each other?” James heard a soft voice ask from the shadows.
He looked for the source and saw Kiki Downey standing by a large window. How long had she been there? How had she given Ginny the slip? How come neither he nor Downey had seen her a moment ago? It disconcerted him that she had managed to slide in under his radar.
He sauntered over to her and stood closer to her than propriety deemed normal. She didn’t back up, simply tilted her head up to look into his face. He could feel the cold of the glass window juxtaposed with the heat from her body.
“You don’t have much respect for me, do you?” Kiki asked.
“On the contrary, if I ever need to know which shoes to wear to match my tie, you’d be the first person I call. If I had your number,” James said, trying to temper the sarcasm with a charming smile.
“I’m sure you already have it, along with all the other boring background check facts you recited earlier,” she rejoined, still making no move to retreat.
James admired her nerve. Maybe this princess had a bit of her father’s steel in her after all.
“That would defeat the purpose of you giving it to me,” he said.
“What purpose would that be? And you still haven’t answered my question,” she retorted.
“How about you answer one of mine first?” James asked then chuckled as she raised an eyebrow in a pretty good impression of her father. “Why would you invite your father’s old mistress to your party when she is not related to you, was no doubt the source of great pain and embarrassment for your own mother, and her presence, you had to know, would be unwelcome with at least a few of your guests?”
“I already explained my reasons to my brother. And his opinion is the only one I care about; certainly not a rude, presumptuous, party crashing boar like yourself. You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she answered, dark eyes glittering with anger.
“What I know is there’s a lot of big important grown up things going on and the last thing Tommy needs is his spoiled little sister playing games with his family, and distracting him from this case,” he said with perhaps a bit more heat than he meant, but the smell of her hair and the glittering of her lip-gloss with the hall lights was distracting him, and he was trying to keep his mind on the task at hand.
“How dare you? You’re the outsider here! It’s you who should butt the hell out of my family’s private issues! And you’ve the nerve to say we can be of use to each other? Why the fuck should I help you with anything?” Kiki ground out.
“Tisk, tisk, such language, little girl,” James said with a smirk.
By God, she was beautiful, he couldn’t help but think.
“How about we go back to your place and discuss this like rational adults,” he finished in a playful, yet suggestive tone.
She let out a huff, clearly nonplussed by his forwardness. Then something flashed in her eyes, a sort of calculating, cynical and predatory look that had him feeling momentarily nonplussed himself.
“Alright. Let me say good-bye to my guests. You obviously already know where I live. I’ll meet you there in a half hour,” Kiki said, cool and collected once more.
It was more like an hour when she arrived at her door, but who was counting? They said nothing to each other as she let him inside. James looked around her one bedroom apartment and thought it was nothing like he’d expected. He’d expected lots of pink or maybe something trendy with splashy colors. It was all cool metals, finished wood, and retro 50’s style furniture. Frank Lloyd Wright stills peppered the room and books lined the entirety of one wall. Her windows were left uncovered and the city lights cast interesting reflections in the room. She threw her shawl and little clutch purse on the butterfly chair by the bookshelves. Then she walked up to him and grabbed his holster. He stopped her hand.
“What are you doing?” James asked, his discomfort at having underestimated her twice in one evening making him irrationally angry.
“You should make yourself more comfortable,” Kiki said seductively.
“I thought we came here to talk?” he prevaricated as he took his jacket, gun and badge off.
He could tell she was playing some sort of game and it spiked his irritation up a notch. His mood was all over the place, actually. There was frustration at the blocked opportunities by his partners and Downey to further the case tonight, mixed with his desire for her, the self-disgust that that brought, the irritation with her childish interference, and the discomfort of knowing she was right that it wasn’t his business what went on between her and her family.
But now she had decided to take his sexual sparring and call his bluff. Except he wasn’t bluffing. Did she think he would be scared off from her family this way? Maybe that would work with her usual limp-wristed boy toys, or the gumbahs who were probably too afraid of her Daddy to actually make a move, but not with him.
James hooked an arm behind her back and yanked her towards him. She gasped and put her free hand on his chest, but she didn’t push him away. She kept looking at him, eyes still full of challenge and no fear. It was like something snapped in his brain and all he wanted was to wipe that look from her eyes, to make her realize lives weren’t to be played with, manipulated. To give her a taste of her own medicine.
He gripped the back of her neck with his other hand and crushed his mouth to hers. She met his kisses with equal fervor, pressing up against him. He let go of her waist and neck and began a rough exploration of her body, not bothering to be gentle. She sunk her hands into his hair and gripped painfully, whether to give as good as she got or from passion, he didn’t know. All he knew was his body was on fire for her and all he could think about was sinking into her.
He reached down and hitched her up around his waist, walked forward, and pressed her against the wall leading to the bedroom. He moved his lips to the crook of her neck and felt her moans against his mouth. He gripped her hips and ground his cock against her, torturing himself with the feel of her and the sounds of her gasping breaths. His mouth moved down to her thin dress strap and he moved it over her shoulder with his teeth then licked a trail to her freed breast. He teased the tip of her nipple out of the strapless bra she wore and nipped at it with his tongue and teeth. Her nails dug into his back and she groaned. She grabbed his head and tugged until he captured her mouth again.
He carried her into the bedroom, all thoughts of lessons and principles and whatever excuse he had given himself for doing this gone, just desire and heat and so much need. He set her on the bed and removed his shirt as she reached down and frantically undid his belt, reaching in and finding his cock. He had to fight for utter stillness under her soft, small hands. Christ, Christ, he thought, struggling to regain the upper hand. Had he ever had it? He laid her back on the bed and pushed her flimsy dress up her hips, spread her legs wide, and bent to lick her through the sheer seamless pantyhose she wore.
Her hands gripped the satin comforter and she bucked her hips letting out tiny gasps and moans. He hooked his finger into her hose and ripped a hole where his mouth had been. She let out a startled ‘oh!’ and he set his mouth back to work, licking and fingering her until he drove her to a release. He could feel the tremors of her orgasm around his fingers inside her and raised himself up to look at her face.
She looked younger than her twenty-one years, her dark hair spread out against the cream chenille pillows, black dress bunched up, strappy heels still on. He felt the sickening sensations of guilt and shame start to build. But her eyes opened and they were smoky with desire as she reached her hand down and gripped his penis again, and he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to do the right thing and walk away.
He quickly removed his pants completely and settled over her, kissing her slowly, deeply, moving his hips against the wet opening of her.
“Do you have a—” he whispered against her swollen lips.
“In the night stand,” she interrupted. Her beautiful brown eyes seemed almost black in the moonlight.
He put the condom on and hovered for a moment over her. She ran her fingers up his chest and into his hair again, bringing his head back down to hers, and then he was pumping into her, desperate to give her a second release before he took his own. He felt her pantyhose and heeled shoes against his legs and the slick tightness of her gripping him, and it drove him wild. He was far past the possibility of gentleness and into what felt like insanity. She wrapped her arms and legs completely around him and bit his shoulder, sending him over the edge.
He groaned his release into her sweet-smelling hair and collapsed on top of her, conflicting emotions of satisfaction and shame, of guilt and mind-numbing physical pleasure, all impossibly twisted up. He slowly untangled himself and laid next to her on the bed, looking sideways at her. Her eyes were closed, lips parted, hair and makeup mussed. She looked utterly used, and achingly young and beautiful. He could see her pulse going on her neck next to the marks his rough kisses had left.
Shit, he thought, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
–Copyright 2012, Genevieve Dewey.
Read on… Chapter Nine, “Kiki”.
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