Bad, Bad Girlfriend

by Delilah Devlin

  “Let her go,” Mike said, his tone even. “You’re not being fair to her.”

  “Look, just because Lucy leads you around by the dick doesn’t mean you have to spout that shit. We’ve both seen what happens to cops who get married. If they don’t leave the marriage in a body bag, they get divorced. A woman doesn’t want a man who’s never there, misses all the kids’ plays and first days of school.”

  “Because I know you’re upset, I’ll ignore that first part. But somehow, I don’t think Jolie would give you grief over other part. She’s not clingy. She’s a pretty independent lady.”

  Which was another one of the things Gabe had liked about her from the start.

  “Lucy and Jolie aren’t badge bunnies,” Mike said. “They’re mature women. They don’t have their eyes filled with shiny brass badges. They know the score. Trust that.” He yawned again. “Look, I have an early call. So do you. Go home to bed. We can talk while you’ve got me trapped inside the squad car.”

  Gabe muttered through his goodbye and swiped his screen to end the call.

  Jolie wanted more from him than he was willing to give. More than he thought he might be capable of giving. He was his father’s son. Everyone knew it. And his father had been a lousy father and husband. All anyone had to do was ask every one of his three ex-wives. His mother being the last.

  Still, the thought of never seeing Jolie again, never holding her or making love to her ate at his gut.

  Every time she opened her door to him was like the first time.

  He’d been nervous that day after he’d met Jolie at the bakery—had asked Mike to get her number from Rachel. He’d been incredibly aroused ever since he’d bitten into her chocolate chip and caramel cookie then looked up to see her bite her bottom lip, her gaze watching his mouth. He’d wanted those full, dark lips wrapped around his cock.

  Her almond-shaped brown eyes had blinked wide, her expression expectant and hopeful a moment before it shifted back to sassy. She’d only wanted to know whether the cookie pleased him, but he’d wanted to see that same hopeful, expectant expression on her face when he thrust deep inside her lush body.

  She wasn’t his usual type, and that should have set off sirens, but he’d ignored the internal alarm. She wasn’t a slender, slutty blonde—a bimbo with no expectations beyond a good time.

  He’d taken one look at her with her dusky, creamy skin, sloe eyes and full lips, and then his gaze had trailed down her full figure. He’d known in an instant she was meant for comfort, for a man to ease his lust and his heart inside her womanly body.

  She’d surrounded him from the start with the smell of vanilla and the taste of chocolate, and he’d begun to dream of things he had no business dreaming—home, kids and a minivan.

  However, Gabe Devine wasn’t the marrying kind. He wasn’t his father. Gabe had loved him, idolized him even while he’d watched him tear his mother’s heart apart with his absences, and then finally with his death. He’d watched her fall into a depression he hadn’t been able to reach through. He’d acted up in school, gotten into fights, but she hadn’t stirred herself to wonder at the cause.

  When she’d passed, he was already on the force, and he’d promised himself he’d never put a woman through that hell. Not on his watch.

  The shooting that had nearly taken Mike’s life only rammed that point home.

  If Jolie cried over a lover’s spat, how the hell would she handle losing him altogether to an assailant’s bullet?

  Maybe Mike was right. It was time to cut Jolie loose even though his chest ached at the thought. He’d be doing her a favor.

  She’d move on, find a nicer guy, someone deserving of her, and who she could lavish all her many gifts on. But the thought of another man biting into her chocolate chip cookies while she blinked hopefully back had him tightening his hands on the steering wheel.

  He rammed on the gas again, took a rolling hill a little too fast and felt the car glide into the air, just an inch or two, but enough to rattle his teeth when it landed on the road again.

  A siren chirped once. He glanced up and saw the blue lights strobing in his rearview mirror and cursed. Signaling, he pulled to the side and reached into his glove compartment for his badge.

  Fucking great.

  Chapter Three

  ‡

  The doorbell rang and, for just a moment, Jolie’s heartbeat thudded hard against her chest. But however much she wanted it to be Gabe, she knew it couldn’t be him. Not only had he not called her after storming out last night, but she hadn’t caved either and called him. He’d expect it, wouldn’t he? He’d know he was the best she could hope for however imperfect and transitory their attraction.

  She drew a deep breath, smoothed her hands down the sides of her wispy, bronze-and-gold-leaf-patterned skirt and opened the door.

  A UPS man stood there with his brown uniform, harried expression and a box in his hands. “Jolene Ledbetter?”

  She nodded.

  “Sign for the package, ma’am?”

  It was the size of a shoebox, but she hadn’t ordered anything. Her birthday was the following week. Was he delivering her birthday gift from her parents back in Minnesota?

  She signed for the delivery and took the box, heading to her kitchen and Lucy, who was busy helping herself to another of the banana bread muffins she’d baked up that morning. Lucy’s gaze went to the package and her smile was catlike.

  Jolie held up the box. “You couldn’t have just handed them to me?”

  “I know you like surprises. I didn’t want to stint you the experience.” Her smile widened and she clapped her hands. “Open it!”

  While Jolie’s mind told her not to be disappointed if Lucy had chosen something she didn’t love, her hands shook as she tore away the brown wrapping and opened the box.

  Inside were the most gorgeous black, patent leather pumps she’d ever seen. Lying sideways, the thin stiletto spikes were easily three and a half inches. Even from the side, she could see the soles were red leather. “You did not!” She reached a finger, afraid to touch the delicate leather, and tilted one shoe to see the brand name printed inside. “Oh my God! You bought me Louboutins!” She pressed a hand against her chest and stared wide-eyed at her best friend. “You bought me Louboutins,” she said, this time in a wispy voice because she’d forgotten how to breath.

  Lucy gave her a beatific smile and opened her arms, surrounding her in a warm hug. “After the year we’ve both had, I thought you needed a little pampering. And before you tell me they’re too much, I got a bonus at work, so I can still pay my bills.” When she drew back, she glanced back toward the box. “Well, are you going to see if they fit?”

  Jolie took a deep breath, plucked the shoes from the box, and stepped out of her ratty bathroom slippers. “They can’t possibly fit me,” she muttered. “My feet are always too wide…”

  “If they don’t, we’ll exchange them in store, but I stole one of your shoes to get the right measurements.”

  With one hand on the counter, Jolie slipped on the shoes. They were indeed a perfect fit.

  Feeling foolish standing in the tall spiked heels, she swept her arms wide. “What do you think? Do I look like a hooker?”

  “You look like a princess—wearing the ultimate fuck-me pumps.” Lucy’s smile widened. “You’re going to knock him dead. Gabe won’t be able to resist.”

  Jolie lifted her gaze to Lucy’s. “I’m not sure he deserves to see me wearing these shoes. He didn’t exactly act like a prince last night.”

  Lucy’s head canted; her eyes bored into her. “If you’re not sure about him, then wouldn’t it be better to find out now? Keep pushing him. If he doesn’t pop the question, you can move on and leave yourself open to find Mr. Right.”

  Jolie stepped out of the heels and settled into a chair, reaching automatically for a muffin, which she slathered with butter. Popping a piece into her mouth, she groaned. Food was almost as good as sex. She could survive without Mr. Happy Pants.r />
  “So, how’d he react to your ultimatum? I was a little too sleepy last night to remember it all,” Lucy said around a mouthful of her own muffin.

  Jolie grimaced. “He wasn’t happy. We both ended up yelling.”

  Lucy arched an eyebrow. “He wouldn’t yell if he didn’t have deep feelings.”

  “He hasn’t called,” Jolie said mournfully, reaching for the peach jam to add more sweet.

  “He’s just sulking. You threatened to cut off the gravy train.”

  Jolie wrinkled her nose. “You always this blunt when you’re handing out advice to your readers?”

  “And why wouldn’t I be? I’m only being honest. Jolie, if he’s not the one for you, you need to move on.”

  Jolie’s let out a deep breath, and her shoulders slumped. “All right. I’ll think about it. But I don’t have to make up my mind today, do I?”

  Lucy reached across to squeeze her hand. “Not today. Not until you’re ready. But we do have to plan something special for the shoes. Something to celebrate your birthday, maybe? An outing to lay the right sugar trap?”

  Jolie wasn’t so eager. The only man she wanted was the one she couldn’t have—and who was oh so wrong for her. She eyed the shoes again then quickly put them back into the box and closed it. She wouldn’t think about going on the prowl for another man until she’d had her fill of Mr. Gabriel Devine.

  *

  Gabe took the steps up to Jolie’s apartment two at a time, not wanting to take the time to think about what he should be doing.

  It was Saturday morning. He’d bathed and dressed for work, had oiled his gun, and polished his boots. A creature of habit—now he was ready to hit Jolie’s for a little somethin’-somethin’ to tide him over until later that night. Surely she’d gotten over her snit and would be eager to see him again.

  He raised his hand and quickly rapped twice, paused then rapped three more times so she’d know it was him.

  The door cracked open, still held by the slim, brass security chain. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, sniffing.

  The scent of something baking wafted out the door, and his belly rumbled. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said, although he didn’t really feel any regret at all. He’d been honest with her from the start. If she wanted to change the rules now, she’d have to get over it.

  Jolie’s mouth tightened. She closed the door, and not until he heard the jangle as she slipped the chain lock from its slot, did he take a deep breath.

  The door opened, but she was already walking away, her brown skirt floating around her long, supple legs. Gabe frowned at her less-than-enthusiastic greeting, wondering if this was the start of a new pattern. But hey, he was in the door, the biggest hurdle was already crossed.

  He followed her into the living room, noted the scent of the flowers she’d dumped into pretty bowls on the coffee table and kitchen counter, but the sweet floral wasn’t what made his dick pulse. Muffins stacked on a plate on the counter teased his nose, and he made a beeline for them, swiping one up and consuming it in two large bites.

  A soft huff drew his gaze. Jolie stood with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring.

  “Were you saving them for something special?” he asked, swallowing and forcing himself to resist the urge to grab two more.

  “Guess not. Maybe I could fill a bag for you to take with you?” The words were accommodating, but her voice dripped with sarcasm.

  He hunched his shoulders. So, she was still angry. “I’ve been honest with you from the start.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  “What we have is good—special, even. I haven’t been with any woman as long as I’ve been with you.”

  “Oh, I feel real special now.”

  “I’m a cop. I’m not gonna be anything else.”

  She arched a dark, elegant brow. “Did I ask you to quit the force?”

  He drew an exasperated breath. “You weren’t raised to the life. You don’t know how it is.”

  “Think I’m too stupid to learn?”

  It wasn’t any use. Jolie was digging in her heels, too stubborn to listen to good sense. Mike was right. It was time for a clean break.

  But the longer they stood, both bristling with anger and frustration, the harder it was to turn and walk away.

  Her dark eyes slowly softened. Her posture relaxed. Her breaths became shallower, quicker. She was turned-on.

  And his body reacted the way any healthy male’s would to the knowledge his woman wanted him. His body tightened. His heart beat faster, sending blood surging through his veins and flooding his cock until it rose along the leg of his trousers.

  “Jolie…” he breathed.

  Her eyes closed, and she turned away again, but only to walk as far as the living room.

  He followed, closing in on her, reaching her before she passed the coffee table, and turning her into his arms.

  She resisted, bringing her arms up and rotating them outward to brush off his hands. Then she took two steps backward.

  Gabe’s hands curled into fists to resist the urge to reach for her again. If she didn’t want him, so be it.

  However, instead of asking him to leave, she lifted the bottom of her silky brown shirt and slipped it over her head. Her breasts, barely restrained by the lacy bra, shivered over the tops of the cups.

  He lifted his hands slowly, half expecting her to move away again, but she held still as he curved his palms over the plump globes. His chest tightened again, and he swallowed hard, lifting his gaze to lock with hers. “You have the softest breasts.”

  She reached behind her and undid the clasp.

  He eagerly smoothed his hands to cup her fully naked mounds. The dark nipples bloomed against his palms, and he stepped closer, his mouth hovering above hers as she tilted back her head and rose on her toes.

  Gabe kissed her, letting loose of his fear that this might be the last time, deciding to live in the moment of her welcoming heat and the feeling of homecoming. He pushed aside the thought that this felt right, inevitable. His cock was so hard, he could hardly think of anything but the need to thrust deep inside her moist, hot cunt.

  He glided his hands down her sides and reached behind her, searching for the button at her waistband. He struggled with it while he stroked his tongue into her mouth, then twisted his fingers and felt her waistband ease and heard the button land on the floor. Then he was sweeping the skirt away, shoving it over her round hips to pool at her feet.

  The thin, lacy panties he left because he needed the barrier, needed to slow down.

  He bent and lifted her into his arms.

  She gave a shaky laugh. “You’ll break your back.”

  “You’re a wisp of thing, Jolie Ledbetter,” he drawled.

  “Liar,” she whispered, and hid her face in the corner of his shoulder.

  Yeah, she was meatier than any woman he’d ever had before, but he liked how she filled his arms. She was sturdy, substantial. She could take everything he brought. He never had to hold back for fear of hurting her.

  He crossed to the sofa, gently laying her on her back, then stood back and stripped.

  She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not fair. You knock on my door, and I get wet. We don’t talk, we don’t go out, we just fuck. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

  He gave her a quick grin and shucked his shorts. Even when Jolie dropped the “F” bomb, she sounded like a lady. “We tried the dating thing, remember? We almost got arrested in the park. And we both decided your sofa and your bed’s more comfortable than the backseat of my Mustang.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Maybe if you wouldn’t touch me and kept your dick to yourself in public we might have a normal relationship.”

  “That what you want?” he said, wrapping his fingers around his cock and stroking himself. “Really? I thought you liked it when I licked you up and down.”

  “Dayum, don’t start talkin’ dirty now. We’re fighting.”

  “What?” he said, raising his eyebrow
s. “Can’t you fight and fuck at that same time?”

  “No! Your hands and your dirty parts get movin’, and all I do is melt. It’s not fair.”

  He stepped closer, looming over her, his dick in his hand while her gaze locked on it and her tongue darted out to lick her lips. “You think it’s any easier for me? All you have to do is wag your tail, and I’m salivating.”

  “Wag my tail?” she said, her voice rising. “Gabriel Devine, I’m not a bitch in heat!”

  “I’d never use that word to describe you, baby.”

  Her disgruntled expression eased only a bit. “How would you describe me?”

  He nestled a knee between the sofa back and her thigh. “Hot as hell, an ass that makes a man crawl and beg for mercy—”

  “What about my ass?” she said, eyeing him warily.

  “You got one of those J-Lo, Beyoncé asses,” he said softly, moving in closer. “Nice and round and firm. A man wants to snuggle up against it and feel the bounce.”

  She braced her hands against his shoulders, holding him back. “I don’t know whether to laugh or scream. And I’m goin’ on a diet tomorrow.”

  “Not for me, you’re not.”

  “That’s right, we’re done. No more free rides, no more sniffin’ at me like a dog.”

  “If I sniff,” he said, lowering his head to nuzzle her neck, “it’s to breathe you in, baby. God, I love the way you smell.”

  “Yeah?” she said breathlessly. “How do I smell?”

  He lifted his head. He didn’t like the gleam in her eyes. “That a trick question?”

  An eyebrow arched in challenge. “You brought it up. What do I smell like?”

  Home, he wanted to blurt, but she’d take it wrong. “Muffins and woman.”

  Her fingernails sank painfully into his shoulders. “‘Muffins and woman? I smell like muffins and woman. Why the hell did I pay a hundred bucks for perfume when you’d rather I rub a muffin between my breasts?”

  “Baby, you’re getting all worked up.”

  “You’re right, I am. I know what I am to you. I’m a fucking doormat. You walk into my house, expect me to greet you at the door, ready to open my legs and my arms, and when you’re done, you can walk away. Baby, you better lay a hundred bucks on my dresser when we’re done, because you’re payin’ me back for that perfume.”