I was sitting back on my calves, my hand still on his chest. He was sitting up, torso twisted to me, hands on me. His face had softened to concern, a look that did something to my heart rate.
I took him in.
He was wearing his clothes from last night, without the jacket, a black henley now untucked and jeans. His feet were bare.
For some reason, I stared at his feet.
Most feet weren’t very attractive but his were somehow sexy. How he could have sexy feet, I did not know, but I figured if anyone would have sexy feet, the unfair laws of the universe that made everything about Vance Crowe sexy, would also give him sexy feet.
This reminded me I was pissed off.
I made a move, hopeful that I’d take him off guard but, alas, I didn’t.
His hand moved from my hip, his arm swept under my legs pulling them out from under me and I landed, head on the pillows again.
He got on top and we struggled. I looked for a chance to knee him in the ‘nads but he got up, sat astride me, making my legs useless even though I kicked out to dislodge him. He caught my wrists and held them down at the sides of my head and loomed over me. I pushed my wrists against his hands and bucked my hips. He didn’t move.
“Get off!” I shouted.
“No. You lose, now you talk,” he said.
“Get… off,” I demanded.
“What were you doin’ last night?” he asked, ignoring my demand.
I stared at him, stopped struggling and kept silent.
“Who was that kid?” he went on.
I kept my mouth shut.
“Is he from King’s?” Crowe continued.
I felt my heart begin to race but I kept my face blank or at least I hoped I did.
“He one of your street kids?” Crowe kept at it and I kept silent.
“This have to do with Park?” he carried on and, I couldn’t help it, my body stilled at his use of Park’s name and my head turned slightly to the side in an attempt to hide my reaction.
How he knew about Park, King’s and my “street kids” I didn’t know and I didn’t want to know. But he told me.
“You’re on record as finding Park’s body. You made a statement to the police, told them you were workin’ with him at King’s. Park had a juvie file a mile long, last few years of his life, your name is in it,” he paused, “Jules, your name is in it a lot.”
I looked back at him and frowned but kept silent.
He changed tactics. “Tell me about Cordova.”
I clenched my teeth and just stared at him. When I didn’t speak, he stared back at me.
Then he did the change. I saw it, felt it and was captivated by it.
I watched, enthralled, as his head came toward mine. My racing heart skipped into overdrive and I felt a belly flutter so strong it had to be off the charts.
When his face was an inch from mine, he said, his deep voice silky, “See I’m gonna have to make you talk.”
“No,” I finally spoke but it was too late.
His mouth came down on mine and the belly flutter broke the Richter scale.