by Maisey Yates
“Hell if I know.”
“I mean, I know why the rest of you is sexy. Dayum.”
He smiled as his hands went to his shirt collar. “Sorry about this,” he said, tugging his tie from his shirt collar in one easy snap, the whole thing intact.
“Clip-on?” she asked.
“Standard issue. You can’t take it off without looking like an idiot.”
“All right, I’ll let the tie go. But only because I’m already naked over here. And very, very horny.”
“Points for me,” he said, setting the tie on the edge of her vanity. Then he moved his hands to the first button on his shirt and released it, undoing it quickly, revealing a plain T-shirt the same color as his uniform underneath. “This is less of a strip show than bachelorette parties might have led you to believe,” he said. “Didn’t have time to go home and change.”
“Are you embarrassed?” she asked.
He stilled with his hands on his belt. “No. But you went to a lot of... You had on matching underwear.”
She nodded. “I did, it’s true. But I am way less interested in your clothes than I am in the removal of them. So carry on.”
He undid his belt and shrugged the tan T-shirt over his head. Beneath that was a thin black vest. Kevlar, she assumed. And something hit her in the stomach, a sharp pang. A realization of who he was and what it was he did on a whole new level. He wasn’t just a man who cared about his town. He was a man who put his life on the line. He was a man who backed up his word.
And tonight? He was all hers.
He took the vest off, laying it neatly with everything else.
“Oh, yesss,” she said, the breath hissing through her teeth. “That’s what I’m here to see.”
He looked at her, one dark brow arched.
“What?” she asked. “Women don’t usually sing the praises of your body?”
“In my experience, it’s expected for me to sing the praises of theirs.” He turned to face her, working at the clasp on his pants, the muscles in his chest shifting, his abs rippling with the motion.
“Well, by all means, sing my praises. But it has to be said that you are one hell of a man.”
He shoved his pants down and proved her point and then some, his erection thick and enticing and, right now, just for her. He folded his pants carefully on top of the rest of his clothes.
“Come here,” she said.
“You think you’re giving the orders?” he asked.
“If you want to play,” she said, raising a brow, “you might want to follow them.”
“What sort of game do you want to play?” he asked, his voice rough.
“One we’re both going to like. I want to taste you.” His eyes darkened, his expression getting tense.
“Come on, Deputy Sheriff,” she said.
He walked over to the bed and wrapped his hand around her head, gripping her hair tight and leaning down, kissing her hard on the mouth before straightening, putting all of himself right at eye level.
She licked her lips and looked up at him, bracing her hands on his lean hips. She wanted this. Had wanted it since well before the first time they’d been together. They’d only had urgency then. No thought, no finesse and very little time for exploration.
Now she wanted to explore.
She leaned in, gripping his shaft in her palm and squeezing tight. He groaned, his head falling back, his hand returning to her hair, tugging slightly, the stinging sensation sending a shot of pleasure down between her thighs. Making her hotter. Wetter.
Then she leaned in, blazing a trail over his hard length with the tip of her tongue, her heart hammering fast as she explored him from tip to base and back again before taking him deep inside her mouth.
He was beautiful. He was incredible. And he made this a pleasure. A gift that was truly more blessed to give. Though based on the shivering of his thigh muscles he was very happy to receive.
She pleasured him with her hands, her lips, her tongue, reveling in this strong, solid man’s loss of control as he cursed and shook beneath her touch.
She’d never felt more powerful.
She’d never felt more wanted.
Such a dangerous game, but she wanted to play as long as she possibly could. To hold her hand near the flame until it burned her.
She shifted and took him in deeper and he tugged her hair hard, pulling her head up. “Not like that,” he said, his words a growl.
She looked at him, at the fierce, untamed light in his eyes. Eli Garrett was never anything less than civil. He’d once put her in handcuffs while she’d clawed and spit like a mad cat, and he’d never been less than a gentleman.
That was probably where some of the strange conflicting anger-desire had come from back then. Even when she was angry at him, she’d sensed somehow that he was the closest thing to a real-life superhero. Truth, justice, the American way and all that.
Yes, civility was second nature to him, and now it was stripped away. And he was reduced to nothing more than a man who desired a woman. Desired her. Restraint folded up on the floor with his uniform.
“What do you want?” she asked, moving away from him, leaning back on the bed, conscious of how her posture displayed her breasts, of how her relaxed thighs gave him a view of everything else.
“I need to be inside you,” he said, moving to the dresser and getting the bag, tugging out a box of condoms. He opened it, took out one condom, then threw the box to the bed, where it landed next to her. “You can put those in your nightstand.”
“Generous of you.”
“They’re only for me,” he said.
And she knew then that she’d only teased him at all to hear him say something like that. To hear him get proprietary and possessive and all the things she usually hated.
But being with Eli seemed to be an exploration of everything she’d previously labeled off-limits. Everything she’d always called a bad idea.
This was her chance to dip her toe into some fantasies she’d never given breath before. A man who would take charge. A man who would give as good as he got. A man who wouldn’t shrug and say, “Yeah, whatever,” if she called it off.
She put the box in the nightstand, not wanting to push him now. Someday she would. Just for fun. Just to see what would happen. But not now.
He tore open the packet and she watched, rapt, while he rolled the condom onto his thick length. She liked seeing that big, masculine hand wrapped around his cock. She’d love to watch him bring himself off sometime. And she’d never wanted to do that before, because what would be in it for her?
But with Eli...watching him was one of the best things she could think to do with her time.
He moved to the bed and she smiled, kissing his lips, then pushing against him with all of her weight so that he was on his back and she was straddling him, the slick entrance to her body touching his hard length.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Going for a ride,” she said, smiling.
“Not just yet.”
He angled his head up and took one nipple deep in his mouth, sucking hard. A sharp groan volunteered to be the soundtrack to her pleasure, and there was nothing she could do to stop it as his hand teased her other nipple, while he slid his other palm down over her ass, his fingertips delving into the elegant line there, sending a shock wave of sensation through her.
Then he gripped her butt hard, tugging her into position, lowering her down onto his arousal, every thick inch filling her slowly. Perfectly.
“I’m supposed to be in charge here,” she said, when he was buried in her to the hilt.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice rough. “Missed that memo.”
“No, you didn’t.”
He slid his hand over her bottom again, squeezing her. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Ride you until you can’t speak anymore. Until you don’t have the energy to challenge me.”
“We could be here all night,” he said.
“Oh, I hope so.”
He gripped her face, tugging her head down so he could kiss her hard, his other hand still firm on her bottom, keeping her pressed tightly against him as he flexed his hips upward, stealing her control, stealing her breath.
He was amazing. Perfect. Everything.
And never before had she assigned those adjectives to a man.
But they fit him, just like he fit her.
She pushed her hips forward, butting up against his, sensation rocketing through her. He released his hold on her chin, his head falling back, his hands moving to a more relaxed position on her hips as he let her take the lead.
She braced her hands on his shoulders, moving in time with his breathing. Slow and measured at first, then faster, harder, more intense. Her orgasm started to build, a low ball of pleasure and intensity in the pit of her stomach, pulsing down to her core, her internal muscles tightening around his hard length.
She squeezed his shoulders tight, her nails digging into his skin. She hoped he felt it. The pain and pleasure. She hoped she marked him, because he was damn well marking her. This didn’t feel like a game now. Not the light power struggle it had been. The fun flirtation. This was something raw. Pleasure walking a knife’s edge. One wrong slip and it would cut deep. Wound. Destroy. And scar forever.
She closed her eyes, her heartbeat pounding against the backs of them, blood roaring through her ears. “Oh...Eli...”
“Not yet,” he said, his voice harsh, pulling her through the haze, pushing her climax back.
He removed his hand from her hip and put it between her legs, just near where their bodies were joined, his fingers tracing her clit, sharp, hot need assaulting her as he did.
“I want to give it to you,” he said, his eyes intense on hers as he continued to stroke her. The combination of his touch along with the feeling of him inside her was almost too much to bear, but now she was fighting her orgasm.
Because she wanted to stay like this. On the edge. In this moment of beautiful torture.
He took his hand away and she gasped, then lifted his fingers, the tips touching the edge of her lips. Then she looked at him, leaned forward and sucked both deep into her mouth.
He swore, short and hard, never looking away. She ran her tongue along the edge of his forefinger and he pulled her down, hard, thrusting up inside of her as he did. That was enough. To push her from the edge into the abyss.
She shuddered, leaning forward, palms braced on the bedspread as she rode out the climax, waves rolling through her, leaving her breathless, shaking and on the verge of the kind of emotional breakdown she never allowed herself. Ever.
He let out a harsh breath, his grip on her tightening, his muscles shivering as he found his own release, his stomach muscles contracting and expanding beneath her.
She waited until it was over. Until he was relaxed. Then she rolled away from him, lying on her back, her arm over her face, her eyes shut tight behind it, trying to gain her balance. Trying to find her center or whatever. But she was firmly...off center, so that just wasn’t going to happen.
He’d tromped all over her center. Left his big, standard-issue boot prints all over it.
She was wrecked.
He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close and she moved her arm, blinking, shocked by the fact that he was touching her, that he wasn’t halfway out the door. But no, he was leaning in, his head pressed to her breasts, his breath hot against her skin.
She lifted her hand and traced his jaw with the tip of her finger, his stubble rough. There was something undeniably male about it. Undeniably sexy.
What was it about him? Why did he make her feel so much?
She shook all that off, trying to catch her breath. Trying to pull herself out of the emotional well she’d fallen into. This wasn’t like her. She didn’t get moony and weird. And she didn’t sleep with guys after sex. She was too busy getting dressed, saying goodbyes and getting back to her own space. Or pushing them back to theirs.
Well, she wasn’t going to sleep with Eli. She was just going to rest for a second while she got her bearings, and then she would remind him that he needed to get back to his place stat.
He moved his hands over her curves until she could feel herself melting into the sheets like a candle pressed into a flame.
Man, she was pathetic.
And all she wanted to do was sleep. Or turn over and lick him. All over. Oh, yes, that was what she wanted to do. Lick every inch of Eli Garrett until he was shaking. Until he was hard again. Until...
There was a fearsome-sounding scratch and a sound that was closer to a caterwaul than a meow at the door.
She jumped, the sound breaking hard through her fantasies.
There was more scratching, this time on the carpet beneath the door, followed by more angry feline noises.
“Oh, you damn cat!” she growled, wiggling out of Eli’s hold and sitting up. And she was almost grateful Toby had come to the rescue then, because it had saved her from revealing her fairly intense neediness.
She stood and looked down at Eli, who was staring at the ceiling, all naked and muscle-y and as hot as ever. Then she turned and went to the door, flinging it open. “What?”
Toby sauntered in, and his eyes seemed to go straight to Eli. “Don’t judge,” she said to Toby. “You don’t have balls. You don’t know what this kind of drive does to a person.”
Eli laughed, a deep, male sound that was much more relaxed than he generally was. “Do you always talk to your cat?” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed and she was sort of struck dumb by the whole display.
His body in motion, regardless of the motion, was a beautiful thing. And naked? It was mouth-dryingly, pantie-dampeningly beautiful.
“Yes, yes, Eli, I do talk to my cat. And please be advised,” she said, crossing her arms beneath her bare breasts, “that I won’t allow for anti-cat speech in this house.”
“Anti-cat thoughts?”
“Forbidden. The thought police are here. Assimilate or be destroyed.”
“I didn’t understand any of that.”
“It’s a good thing you’re nice to look at.”
“Nice to touch, too, I hope,” he said, standing and walking toward her.
Her heart stuttered. “Do you have to ask?”
“Doesn’t hurt to be told.”
“Touch. Taste. All of the above. I very much enjoy the many attractions your body has to offer.”
“Possibly the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.”
“Well, that gives me a new target to aim for. Something weirder than that.”
“I look forward to it.” He bent down and picked up his clothes, shaking them out, tugging his underwear and pants on.
Her heart sank. She was so much more disappointed by the fact that he was leaving than she should be. She’d just been thinking she needed to get rid of him. Reclamation of space and all that.
But now he was vacating her space. And that was different.
At least it felt different for some reason.
He tugged the tan shirt on over his head and collected the overshirt and tie, and put them into the bag the condoms had come from. Then he went for his boots. And she just stood there naked and watched, which was hugely stupid but she couldn’t really bring herself to stop watching him. Or to move and get dressed. She didn’t want her lacy underthings or her dress back anyway.
She wanted jammies. And she wanted to cry a little bit.
She felt like an alien being with way too many feelings had crawled into her ear and then chewed his way from her brain stem, down her neck and into her chest, where he’d made a comfy home and decided to force his emotions on her.
Yes, that was what she felt like. Foreign, and completely out of her depth. And she just wasn’t used to feeling that way. She kept herself out of situations that made her feel this way for a reason.
“See you tomorrow,” he said, all casual and like his skull hadn’t been cr
acked by the thundering pleasure that had just rolled through them both.
“Uh...okay.”
“I can’t stay,” he said, not looking at her.
“No,” she said. “No, I know. I mean, I wasn’t going to ask you to. I was going to ask you to leave, actually. But I didn’t have to because of the cat, and then you got up, and now you’re going so I didn’t have to.”
Sure, Sadie, ramble. That’s convincing and doesn’t sound at all weird.
“Okay,” he said slowly.
“Don’t say it like that. I’m fine. I don’t sleep with guys. I like my space, just like you do. And we made rules. Rules on the street corner. In front of God and everyone.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sadie.”
Two days in a row. That was intense. It was, she realized in that moment, a violation of her usual relationship conduct. She’d never been in a relationship where she felt the need to have sex that often. It was healthy and good to have nights alone, and to have time to herself and...and...he was talking sex tomorrow. Probably the next day, too.
And she was going to say yes.
“Okay. Tomorrow. Do you work?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be patrolling the highway mainly, but I always come to town for coffee and lunch.”
“I was going to stop in on Alison again. So I’ll be in town tomorrow, too.”
“Maybe we can run into each other when I get coffee,” he said.
“Elevenish, right?”
He nodded.
She shouldn’t be making a coffee date with the guy. She shouldn’t even have made an immediate follow-up sex date with him. And now there would be an additional meet-up. But she wasn’t going to tell him no. She might not show up to coffee, though. She might not.
Toby started rubbing against her legs and she looked down at him. “What?” she asked, and got nothing but a blank cat stare in return.
“See you,” Eli said.
“Yeah, bye.”
He walked out of her bedroom without even kissing her goodbye, and she stood there, naked, until she heard the front door shut behind him. And she became acutely aware that she was standing naked in a room with a cat leaning against her legs, watching the blank space where Eli had been.