Need

by Becca Jameson

  And then he got his break. The guy rolled right through the stop sign. Perfect.

  Let’s see how sweet librarian Emily feels when she sees my face leaning in the car window.

  Rider turned on his lights. He watched as the man driving glanced in his rearview mirror and then pulled to the side of the road.

  Rider eased behind the Toyota Corolla and stepped off his bike. He unbuckled his helmet, but left it on is head, as he rounded the car.

  The driver lowered his window.

  “Sir, did you realize you didn’t come to a complete stop at the stop sign you passed?”

  “No, sir. I didn’t. Guess I wasn’t thinking.”

  Rider leaned down so his face was visible to Emily for the first time. “I’ll need both your licenses, please.”

  Emily’s mouth dropped open. Her eyes were wide saucers. Priceless.

  He knew it was uncalled for, requiring Emily to produce her license too, but at this point he wasn’t sure what her real name might be. If she was with this man driving the car, dating him, or hell, maybe he was her boyfriend, perhaps everything she’d told him had been lies.

  Again, why the hell do I care?

  He watched as Emily fumbled with her purse and pulled out her license with shaky fingers. Her face was beet red when she lifted her hand to pass her license to Rider. He swore he saw her shake her head subtly as if imploring him not to reveal he knew her.

  The guy in the driver’s seat produced his license from his wallet. He didn’t seem to notice how flustered Emily was, or else he himself was concerned enough about getting a ticket that anything else happening was out of his radar.

  Rider took the licenses and stepped away from the car. He set both IDs on his motorcycle seat and looked at Emily’s first. At least she hadn’t lied. Her name was indeed Emily Townsend. Thirty-three years old. He scanned her address and then punched it into the notes on his smartphone. Might come in handy someday…

  Next he picked up the man’s license. He nearly dropped it when he saw the name. Michael Townsend. Same fucking address.

  Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

  Married? His head nearly exploded. He had to think to remember to breathe through the fury. For eight nights he’d been thinking about this woman, pondering a myriad of things he wanted to do to her and with her, and the bitch was fucking married.

  Deep breaths. Finish the job and get out of here.

  Rider ran the plate on the car, operating on auto pilot. It was indeed registered to Michael Townsend at the address on the driver’s license. No prior tickets or warning.

  Rider took a deep breath, picked up the IDs and strode back over to the car, fighting the urge to punch the driver, who hadn’t done one damn thing to deserve it. As far as Rider knew anyway.

  He handed the licenses back through the window and nodded at Michael Townsend. “Be more careful, sir. Stop signs are there for a reason.”

  Michael eyes widened in shock. “Of course. Thank you. I will.”

  Rider walked away. It took a great deal of strength, but he did it. There was no reason to issue the man a ticket. That hadn’t been his intension. Rider had all the information he needed.

  He spun around and took off in the opposite direction before Michael pulled away from the curb. He had to put the entire episode out of his mind in order to finish his shift. He was a cop for heaven’s sake. He needed his head on straight.

  Later that night, he flopped onto his couch and stared at the ceiling. He’d peeled off his uniform and pulled on a pair of loose shorts. After working all day in the heat of summer in full uniform, he needed to cool off.

  His mind immediately processed the post-lunch events.

  So, Emily Townsend was married. Who the fuck cared? She never said she wasn’t.

  Dude, I believe it was implied.

  And this was why he didn’t date. Too fucking complicated. Women were a pain in the ass. Thank God he’d found out sooner rather than later, considering how attracted he’d been to the sexy librarian.

  Librarian… The crazy woman had been incredibly concerned about being found out by her coworkers. Had it all been a ruse when really her concern had been about her husband?

  She was so damn sweet and innocent. It was perplexing and incongruent that Emily had ever entered Extreme, let alone allowed a man to hit on her. Maybe she’d sincerely gone there to support her girlfriend and then been titillated by his attention.

  Enough to take her panties off and let me put them in my pocket? Twice?

  Rider blew out a long breath and heaved himself off the couch. He needed to get some sleep.

  •●•

  Emily slept poorly Monday night. Her mind had run at sixty miles an hour ever since Rider had pulled her brother over that afternoon. Talk about a coincidence. What were the chances? Bless him for not saying a word. She would have kissed him if she’d been given the opportunity. She was in no way prepared to share her dabbling in the world of BDSM with her family. Mike would have a heart attack. Her forays into submission didn’t need to be shared with anyone except Virginia at this point. After what happened to Claire, her family would flip if they thought Emily was heading down a similar path. There was no way they would understand it was unlikely Claire’s issues had anything to do with Extreme.

  Luckily, Rider had caught her subtle plea to not out her and ignored her completely once his initial shock had passed. And, on top of that, he’d let her brother go with a warning.

  How had she not known the man was a cop?

  He hadn’t offered much information about himself as of yet. He’d grilled her a bit about her life, but hadn’t shared many details concerning his own.

  A cop. She’d watched him pull away on his motorcycle, thinking he was suddenly ten times sexier than she’d originally thought.

  Mike had been so preoccupied with getting pulled over he hadn’t noticed anything about her reaction to the sexy hunk sauntering back and forth between his bike and the car.

  Damn he was hot in his uniform. Even better than when he was dominating her at the club.

  As she tried to sleep, her mind raced. Had Claire simply dabbled in BDSM? Or had she been so involved she spent at least one night a week sober and clean to enjoy the club?

  The sun peeked through the opening in the curtains, forcing Emily to roll over and bury her head in the pillow. She was exhausted from tossing all night.

  And something bothered her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she suspected it had to do with the fact she hadn’t heard from Rider yet. She’d assumed he would call or text her later in the day when he got off work, but it hadn’t happened.

  She’d waited up late, staring at her phone, but nothing.

  Maybe he’d been on shift late and not wanted to risk calling her after she’d gone to bed.

  She had work to do. She needed to get up and dip into her stack of books before the entire day slipped away.

  She prayed she could stay awake and keep her mind occupied with YA stories after a sleepless night.

  After a quick shower, where she paid special attention to her shaving routine, she slipped on a sundress and headed for the kitchen.

  As soon as she opened the refrigerator, she knew she would have to go to the grocery store before anything else today. A severe lack of staples confronted her.

  Just as well… It will keep my mind occupied for an hour or so before working.

  •●•

  Rider sat outside Emily’s condo like some kind of stalker. He’d only meant to find out where she lived, but once he’d arrived, he hadn’t been able to leave. A car sat in the driveway, but not the one from yesterday. Her husband must be at work.

  He needed to be at work soon himself. He was already suited up and sitting on his motorcycle.

  Suddenly the front door opened and Emily stepped outside. When she turned to lock the door, Rider found himself drawn to her. He lifted his leg over his motorcycle and sauntered in her direction. His cock stiffened at the sight of h
er in a short sundress flared around her tiny hips. He wondered if she wore underwear, knowing he’d never find out.

  He was pissed. His strange unexplainable anger had eaten away at him since yesterday afternoon. At the very least he wanted to tell her how totally uncool it was she’d impersonated a single woman.

  Why? Why the hell do you care? The idea he gave two shits made him angrier. He’d done scenes with married women many times. Of course, their husbands generally knew about the event, and often watched, but not always.

  Maybe Emily’s husband knew about her visits to Extreme. Perhaps there was a logical explanation for everything. If he could rein in his aggravation for one minute…

  Emily turned around after locking the door and startled. “Oh.” She set her hand on her chest, but her face widened in a smile. “You surprised me.”

  I’ll bet. He kept walking until he was right next to her, invading her space more than socially acceptable.

  She stepped back and lifted her gaze to his, her brow furrowed. “You want to come in?” She motioned behind her and lifted the keys.

  Rider nodded. It was probably best. He didn’t want to confront her on the steps.

  Emily turned to unlock the door, her fingers notably shaking. She glanced over her shoulder as she reopened the front door. “I was hoping you would call or text today.” She stepped inside.

  Rider followed. He glanced around her front room. And then he strolled farther into her space, feeling bold. He wasn’t usually an ass, but he felt betrayed somehow by this mockery of a woman who’d led him to believe she was single, available, and willing to submit to him.

  Hadn’t she?

  Emily remained quiet. He could hear her shut the door and step farther into the front room, her tiny sandals clicking slightly on the hardwood floor.

  He took a deep breath as he perused her space. Feminine. The walls were painted a light yellow. The couch and chairs were a combination of sunny colors that complemented the walls. Oranges, browns, reds, yellows. Throw pillows sat strategically at the ends of the couch. Books were piled on every surface.

  The mantel had several pictures sitting across the wood ledge. Rider’s gaze zoned in on them. He stared for a moment at a photo of her with a younger version of herself. The woman looked familiar. Must be a sister. And then he grabbed the next picture he saw from the mantel to look closer. Emily and her husband, years younger, standing next to an enormous redwood. It must have been taken on vacation in California.

  She cleared her throat behind him. “Thank you so much for not saying anything yesterday. I wasn’t prepared to tell Mike about you.”

  He set the picture down calmly, battling his irrational instinct to throw it against the wall, shattering the glass. He lifted his gaze to find her with her head tipped down, scraping the floor with one toe as though there were a smudge that needed removal.

  That answered one question. Mike, as she called him, didn’t know.

  “You’ve put me in a very awkward position. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She jerked her gaze up to meet his. “Tell you what?” Her brow furrowed in confusion.

  Was she dense? Words spewed from his lips. “That you’re married, of course. Did that detail not seem important to you? I’m not in the habit of taking on married submissives. It’s not my style.”

  Her face changed in an instant, her eyes widening until the deep blue orbs seemed enormous. Her mouth opened wide as she inhaled sharply. And then she shook her head. “I’m not married.” She jerked her gaze to the picture on the mantel. “Mike? He’s my brother.”

  Now Rider was shocked. He couldn’t move a muscle, even to breathe. He opened his eyes at least as wide as hers and stared into her gorgeous blue ones. Finally he found his voice. “Your brother?”

  She nodded, biting her lip in between her teeth, clearly holding back a chuckle.

  Rider relaxed his shoulders and shook his head before he set his palm against his forehead. What a doofus. “Oh God.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I had no idea you’d misunderstood.”

  “You have the same last name. Hell, you have the same address. I ran the plate.”

  She nodded. “He used to live with me. Just moved out a month ago when he got a better job.”

  “I owe you an apology.” All the wind was knocked out of his anger so fast he felt exhausted.

  She stepped forward. “No, really. I should have realized. I was so concerned about you not acknowledging me in front of Mike, it never occurred to me you thought we were married. When you didn’t call or text last night, I thought you were angry with me.”

  He chuckled. “I was. Extremely. More than I’d like to admit.”

  “Sorry for that.” She came closer, her smile widening. “You care.”

  “What do you mean?” He cocked his head as she approached him.

  “I wasn’t sure I was more than an experiment for you. But you care.”

  He shook his head, not a bit sure why he felt like defending his reaction. “I’m still your trainer. Don’t misunderstand. I just don’t like to be played. It’s your business if you want to cheat on your husband or keep some secret from him that you dabble in BDSM on the side, but I didn’t want you lying about it to me. I want you to be straight with me. Many Doms might tolerate that sort of thing. But not me.” Okay, maybe me. But not with you. He’d looked the other way in the past when he’d been unsure about a woman’s background, but not this time. Not with Emily. Something was different about her.

  And whatever it was, it made him nervous.

  “I am.” She was inches from him now, setting her hand on his forearm. “I have not lied to you about anything. I just don’t want…my family to know. About this side of me, I mean.”

  “About me,” Rider finished. Why did that hurt?

  “Not you specifically, but the whole thing. I’m not ready for that.”

  Rider stepped back, dislodging her hand from his skin where her soft dainty fingers were lighting a flame beneath the surface while her mouth was uttering words he didn’t want to hear.

  You don’t have a right to fault her for this. She isn’t your girlfriend. She’s a submissive learning the ropes of D/s. If she doesn’t want to share you with her family, that’s beyond reasonable. Why would you want her to? You don’t do parents.

  He glanced around the room, needing a distraction from the woman quickly shaking him from his foundation.

  “What are all these books for?” He picked up a copy from her coffee table and stared at a pixie on the front. A fantasy.

  “I’m a high school librarian. I swear. I didn’t lie about that.” She giggled. “I have to read all summer so I know which books to include in my library in the fall. The teenagers like to have the latest releases. It’s tough to stay one step ahead of them.”

  She was the real deal. He’d misjudged her severely. Unfairly. He set the book back down and swallowed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

  “You’ve already apologized. I get it. Apology accepted.”

  He stepped toward her this time, feeling stronger, more put together and in control of himself. When he reached her side, he took a long strand of her thick blonde curls in his hand and let the pieces run between his fingers. When the hair was finished cascading back into place, he touched her bare shoulder. Only the thin strap of her sundress covered her skin.

  He stroked her smooth tan bicep and let his fingers dance down her arm until he reached her fingers. He grabbed them and lifted them to his lips. His kiss was gentle. “I’m still sorry. I promise not to jump to any conclusions involving you again. Clearly you’re indeed the sweet woman I thought you were.”

  She cleared her throat and spoke so softly he barely heard her. “I didn’t think you liked sweet women.”

  Suddenly, he needed her. It wasn’t an emotion he was used to experiencing. His desire to find out what made this woman tick and mold her to submit to him made his cock so stiff it felt w
ay too tight inside his dress pants.

  •●•

  Emily couldn’t believe he was in her home, holding her hand, stroking his lips over her skin. She was on fire. His admission spoke volumes about why he’d stared at her so hard through the car window yesterday and why he hadn’t contacted her last night.

  “I don’t have much time. I need to get to work soon,” he whispered, as though planning to consume her fast and hard before he left.

  And she wished he would. The idea of having sex with this man appealed to her more than anything. She’d never slept with a man she knew so little about and had dated only twice—if their two confrontations could be considered dates.

  She let her gaze roam up his body. He was so sexy in his uniform. Even the gun on his hip made him seem larger than life, and she wasn’t fond of guns. His dress shirt stretched perfectly across his chest, accentuating his pecs as though they were complaining about the confinement.

  She fisted her free hand at her side to avoid running it up his torso.

  “I’d like to see you.” His voice was deep, husky. “May I?”

  See me? He is seeing me. And then his meaning dawned on her. Naked.

  She stopped breathing. Should she?

  “Emily, look at me,” he commanded.

  She lifted her gaze to meet his.

  “If you’re going to train under me, you’ll need to be able to relinquish your body to me at some point. I’m not going to fuck you today. I just want to see your body. You need to acclimate to the idea.”

  She nodded.

  He smiled, his face softening. “Good girl.” He held her gaze while he reached for the hem of her dress and lifted it slowly over her head, as though making sure he had her permission the entire time.

  Cool air wafted across her skin, bringing goose bumps to the surface all over her body. It wasn’t cold in the room. On the contrary, it was quite warm. But nerves crawled up her spine as Rider revealed her body to his gaze. He dropped the dress on the floor without looking and took her hands again, prying her fists open gently.

  “You forgot one of my rules. Or did you intentionally defy me?”

  She gasped. What rule? She glanced down. Panties. Shit.