The hard line of his cock was distinct through his jeans. She could feel it nestled along her sensitive heat, her thin stockings no protection at all.
Max ran his hands along her back to slide under her soft sweater. The roughness of his fingers against her heated skin made her grind a little against him.
“Fuck,” he groaned, thrusting up just a little himself.
He reached higher along her back to release her bra, then slid his hands around to push the front of her sweater and her bra up, exposing her breasts to him.
“Perfect,” he whispered.
She wanted his mouth on her. Wanted him to suck her. To take each nipple in his mouth and tug on them hard. Wanted him to nip her and nuzzle…
Amanda grabbed his face and ripped his gaze from her breasts. His eyes were hooded and unreadable. With a groan she plundered his mouth. Their lips crushed together, their tongues fought, and she held his face tightly, not letting him go, not letting him escape.
He found both of her nipples with his fingers and tweaked them. Pulling, pinching, twisting, making her squirm in his lap.
His cock hard, his jeans were rough and irritating through her stockings and panties, but she didn’t care. It felt good. She thrust against him harder. She thought she heard a tear. But, again, she didn’t care.
All she wanted at this moment was to get closer. Eat him up. Take control of his mouth as their lips meshed. She pulled back only to say, “Harder.”
He did what she asked. He pinched her nipples harder, pulled harder, twisted harder.
She had to give his mouth up. She had to let him go to gasp against his neck. She shuddered against him, tilting her hips, feeling his hard cock so close but not close enough.
Still hiding her face against his shoulder, she grasped the snap to his jeans and pulled. It gave away, but the zipper was tougher. The pressure of his cock against it made the zipper difficult to manipulate.
Before she could finish, he had his large hands on her hips and had her flipped under him on the backseat. Max settled between her legs and captured her wrists, holding her still.
“Do you know what you’re asking for?”
Of course! She wanted to scream. But instead, she choked out a “Yes.”
He tightened his hold on her wrists and stretched her arms over her head. “Do you like it rough?”
Amanda’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh yes.”
Max’s smile grew.
His cell phone, which he had thrown in the console earlier, blared an obnoxious country tune.
Max frowned. But didn’t move.
Amanda pulled on her wrists and thrust against him to remind him what they had been doing. What she wanted him to continue with.
The tune stopped, and the phone beeped to indicate a voice-mail message.
Max’s icy blue eyes pinned her. He transferred both of her wrists to one hand and worked the other one between them until he found the hole in her stocking, which was in a very convenient place. Right at her crotch.
He dug his fingertips into the hole and pulled, ripping the hole bigger, giving him more access to what was beneath. He maneuvered his fingers into her stockings enough to yank her panties to the side and then plunged two fingers deep within her. His fingers met no resistance. She was slick and hot.
“You are so fucking wet,” he said between gritted teeth. “So fucking wet. Jesus.”
Amanda gasped with the pleasure of his fingers ramming in and out of her. It wasn’t enough. “Do you think you are man enough for me?”
He suddenly stopped. A slight hesitation. She had caught him off guard.
“Baby, I’m all you’ll ever need.”
“Then show me.”
Max’s cell phone blared that stupid tune again, making him yell out a curse. He jerked away from her and snatched up his phone.
“What, Marc?”
Amanda took a deep breath. Trying to catch her wits. What were they doing? They were in the backseat of the car, which was parked in the garage. With Greg just upstairs.
“Yes, I’m fine… No, I left my truck there… I did not wreck it… Amanda needed help getting home.”
Amanda stiffened and pulled her knees up, making Max unbalanced. He had to move off her completely to finish his conversation.
“Uh. I guess… Okay. How soon? You are?”
Amanda watched Max tense and scrub at his short hair in agitation with his hand.
“Sure.”
Max hit the End Call button with more pressure than was needed and turned his head to look at Amanda.
“Marc is parked out in your driveway.”
“What?” She sat up quickly, straightening her miniskirt and what was left of her stockings.
“He said if I’m not out there in five minutes, he’s coming in.” He frowned. “I’m going to kill him.”
Amanda rehooked her bra, wiggled her breasts back into the cups, and tugged her sweater down.
“Why is he here?”
“He saw my truck abandoned in the field and got worried. He saw two sets of tracks nearby in the snow, so he figured your car was the second vehicle.”
“Oh. Well, shit.”
“Shit is right. He’s going to give me a ride back to my truck.”
“Oh.”
“Jesus Christ. Is that all you can say?” He reached down in his jeans and adjusted himself before zipping them closed and fastening the snap. His movements were jerky, and his jaw was clenched. She wondered who he was angry at. Her? Marc? Himself?
“What do you want me to say?”
“That you’re disappointed?”
“I…” Am. I want to fuck your brains out. There…are you happy? “Well, maybe it’s better this way.”
He looked at her in disbelief. “Better?”
“Look at us. We are in the backseat of a car. We don’t even really like each other.”
“We don’t?”
“Well, no. I think you are way too bossy, and you think I am irresponsible and immature.”
Excuses, excuses. But she refused to let on how disappointed she was.
“Amanda—”
Max’s phone rang again, and he flipped, cursing his brother up one side and down the other. He pushed the door open and climbed out of the back of the car. He grabbed his coat, which he had removed sometime earlier, and shoved his arms into the sleeves.
“I’ll talk to you later. I have to go commit murder.”
“Merry Christmas,” she called out. She was answered by the slam of the side door to the garage.
Her dreams were going to be torture tonight.
Chapter Seven
Her cart was near to overflowing. Jars of peanut butter, pounds and pounds of butter, bags of flour, eggs, milk… Amanda looked down at her list. She still needed to hit the meat department. She had dug out a Crock-Pot from the back of a cabinet after finding an easy recipe to try in the slow cooker. It had only listed a handful of ingredients and not much preparation. She could handle that. But shopping, on the other hand…
Her grocery list was three pages long—both sides. She had already spent forty-five minutes in the retail giant. She couldn’t imagine what her bill would be when she checked out.
And to top everything off, she had picked a cart with a defective wheel. So every few feet it would stick and squeal like a stuck pig when she continued to push. She gritted her teeth.
The wheel jammed again as she tried to take a corner into the next aisle. She shoved harder, and the wheel freed abruptly, the cart escaping her grip.
She winced as it had a head-on collision with another shopper’s cart.
As the other shopper gave her an evil look, she apologized profusely.
“I’m so sorry. The damn—dang wheel stuck.”
The harried young mother tightened her hold on the toddler by her side. She looked like she was about to give Amanda a piece of her mind.
“I guess I’m going to have to write up a crash report. Do I need to call rescue?” M
ax rolled his cart up next to the “crash” scene. To Amanda, it looked as if rescue had already arrived.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Leonard. I’ll take over from here. You’re free to go.” He leaned down to the toddler, chucking him under the chin. “And you too, Jessie.”
Mrs. Leonard picked up her child and put him in the cart. As she rolled away, the woman grumbled, “You should write her a ticket for reckless driving, Max.”
Max gave Mrs. Leonard an easy smile. “I’ll do that.” He then shifted his attention to Amanda, his smile slipping a bit.
“What are you doing here?” Amanda’s cheeks burned. What a stupid question.
“Shopping?” He scanned the contents of her cart. “What are you doing? Opening a restaurant?”
“No. I have some recipes I’m working on, and I needed some ingredients. I bought a bunch of cookbooks at a church sale.”
He snagged a jar of the peanut butter. “Apparently. Ten jars of peanut butter? You must be making some more of your great peanut butter cookies. You can drop them off at the station anytime. We all loved them.”
“Uh, sure, I’ll do that.” The heat that had left her cheeks a second earlier returned in full force. She needed to change the subject. She eyed his cart. Vegetable juice, “healthy” frozen meals, a variety of fruits, and a gallon of skim milk barely filled the bottom. Not a doughnut to be found in this cop’s diet. “Watching your weight?”
“I always watch my girlie figure,” Max joked.
His figure looked good to Amanda. Extremely fine. His hard lines and masculine angles looked downright—
“Amanda?”
“Hmmm?” She drew her attention from the snug fit of his jeans back up to his face. Well, almost. Her gaze stuck on the bulge of his biceps through his long-sleeved cotton shirt. Then she finally met his gaze.
“I have to go. I’m working second shift.” He didn’t move. “If you need someone to taste test those recipes, I’m available.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“You have my cell.”
“Yep.”
“I keep it on all the time.”
“No kidding.”
“I have to because of my job…” His voice died away. Max shifted closer, their gazes locking.
Amanda said softly, “I’m sure.” Was he going to kiss her? Here? In the cereal aisle at Walmart?
“Okay, I have to go.”
“Me too.” He was going to kiss her. Her lips parted in anticipation.
“I’ll see you later,” he said in a husky whisper.
“Okay.” Her heart hammered.
Instead he ran his thumb over her lips. “Keep out of trouble.” He pulled reluctantly away.
“Right.” The break of contact left her feeling cold. Damn. “Max?”
He stilled. “Yeah?”
She gave him a tentative smile. “Stay safe.”
He answered with one of his own. “I will.”
Then he was gone, leaving Amanda standing alone by the shredded wheat, wondering where this was going to go. And how soon.
* * * *
Amanda pulled the plain Buick into the garage and popped the trunk release. She needed to get the groceries unloaded and put away before Greg got home. Even though her brother tried to be helpful after she went grocery shopping, it never failed that eggs got smashed, a grocery bag broke, or a dozen apples scattered out of the garage and down the driveway. He meant well, but…
As she came around the back of the car, she noticed Max’s truck pulling in.
What the hell?
He jumped out of his Chevy and yelled, “Hey, you forgot something!”
Her brows knit together as she patted her pockets. Did she forget her credit card at the store?
He rushed up to her, making her step back in surprise.
“What did I forget?”
“This,” he stated as he pulled her into his arms and captured her lips with his.
Oh yes. Damn her forgetfulness.
His mouth slanted over hers, their tongues tangling and twisting. He pulled her hips against him, and she could feel his hardness through his jeans press against her lower belly.
He swept his fingers through her hair, pulling her head back even more, exposing her neck. He licked her bottom lip, then trailed his tongue down her neck, over the rapid pulse along her throat. He finished with a kiss at the curve of her throat.
“You don’t know how badly I want to finish what we started in the back of that damn Buick.”
A shiver went down Amanda’s spine. Oh, me too.
The crack of a screen door slamming had them both looking at each other before looking over at Mrs. Busybody’s house.
“Shit,” Max whispered.
“I thought you had to go to work.”
“I do.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll make it on time. I wanted to help you unload all the groceries you bought. And…and I wanted to kiss you. I hesitated in the store, and I regretted it.”
“What about your groceries?” Through his windshield, she could see the bags on the passenger side of his truck cab.
“I’ll throw them in the fridge at the station.”
Max could grab more bags at a time than Amanda ever could, and within minutes they had unloaded everything onto the kitchen counters.
As she turned to thank him, his arms came around her from behind, pulling her against him.
“I don’t want to go to work. I want to stay here and bury myself deep inside you.”
Her pussy throbbed at the vision his words put into her head. Yes, she wanted that too.
He ran his palm over her jeans until he cradled her pussy in his hand. She gasped when his fingers played with her nipples through her sweater. They were hard and tight, and she wanted his mouth on them. She wanted him to suckle and squeeze them. He nibbled along her neck down to her exposed collarbone. The wide-necked sweater gave him enough access to run his tongue along her delicate skin before ending it with a kiss.
With a groan he pulled away. “I gotta go before I’m late and my ass is in a sling with Dunn, since I’m relieving him.”
Amanda straightened her sweater and cursed the wetness between her legs. She might have to go change her panties when he left.
“I take dinner break around seven. I can stop by. Would you be interested in making a hungry, hardworking man some supper?”
Amanda had a flash of panic. Oh, he did not want her cooking for him. At least not yet. Even though she was trying to teach herself to cook, she had a long way to go yet.
“I…I know I just bought all these groceries, but I was just planning on picking up pizza for Greg and me. I was going to keep it simple tonight.” Good save, she thought.
“Then how about I pick up pizza and I’ll be here around seven. As long as I don’t get a last minute emergency call, that is. I’ll text you if I’m running late.”
Before she could even agree to the dinner date, he was rushing out of the house. A few seconds later, she heard his truck tires pealing down the road.
Amanda touched her lips and smiled.
* * * *
Greg ran to the door when the headlights of the cruiser lit up the front of the house.
“Max here! Max here!”
Chaos echoed his owner’s excitement, circling and barking at the front door.
“Chaos!” Amanda yelled from the kitchen. “Greg, go out and help Max with the pizza.”
Amanda felt the draft of cold air as Greg rushed out the front door, leaving it wide open, Chaos hot on his heels.
He probably hadn’t even bothered to put shoes on. Amanda sighed.
Within minutes, three males took over her kitchen. One barking. One bouncing, talking a mile a minute, and wringing his hands. And one…
Amanda stopped setting out the napkins and straightened. Oh yeah.
And one wearing that dark blue uniform of his, making him look sharp and put together like no man she’d ever seen before. Studying him, she could see why wome
n liked men in uniform.
Both Greg and Max were carrying a pizza box, so she took the one from Greg and put it on the table before it ended upside down on the floor. Max slid his on top of the other.
He reached for the mic at his shoulder and pushed the button. “Dispatch from Manning Grove eight.”
The radio squawked loudly throughout the room. Greg’s eyes lit up and widened, and he shifted foot to foot. “Manning Grove eight, go ahead.”
“Dispatch, I’ll be ten-six for dinner. I’ll be on portable.”
“Ten-four, Manning Grove eight.”
Max unhooked the mic from his shoulder and the radio from his hip, placing both on the counter nearby.
“Oh, can…can…can I’s speak on that?”
Before Max could answer, Amanda stepped in. “No, Bud, that’s not a toy. Only Max gets to use the radio.”
Greg rolled his eyes, disappointed. “Awwwww.”
“Go wash your hands.” She shooed him to the sink. “Holy crap, Chaos, settle down.”
The dog finally sat, his tail thumping against the linoleum floor. She swore the dog just smiled at her knowingly. She shook her head and looked back at Max.
Max leaned in close to kiss her on the cheek. She wanted a more thorough kiss, but she could understand him keeping it on the more conservative side since they had an audience. Who was like a sponge.
“Is that a gun on your hip or are you just happy to see me?” she asked him in a low voice.
He leaned in close again and whispered in her ear, “Both.”
“Gun! Can…can I’s hold it? Max? Max! Can I?”
“No!” They both answered at the same time. Apparently she hadn’t kept her voice low enough. She took a mental note.
Greg pouted. “Why not?”
Max went over to the sink to wash his hands while lecturing Greg. “Guns are dangerous, Greg. You have to have a lot of training before you can hold one. You don’t want to hurt anyone by accident, do you?”
“No,” Greg answered with an exaggerated shake to his head. “But…”
Amanda needed to change the subject before Greg played twenty questions on why he couldn’t handle Max’s gun. “So, Manning Grove eight, what kind of pizza did you get?”
“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I did one half mushrooms, half pepperoni, and the other just plain cheese.”
Brothers in Blue: Max Page 7