Rogue Officer: A Protector Romantic Suspense Standalone (Gone Rogue)

by Patricia D. Eddy

  I’d give anything to erase the horrors of those nights from my memories, but I’ll carry them with me forever.

  “Whenever he brought a new ‘shipment’ of girls into the house, we all had to watch. His way of making sure we never forgot what we were.”

  Griff takes the paper and balls it up with such force, I’m surprised the fibers don’t simply disintegrate in his hand. Stalking over to the gas fireplace across from the couch, he tosses the remains inside and watches it burn, his shoulders heaving with every breath.

  I can’t talk to him until he turns back to face me, and with how tense he is, I’m actively afraid of touching him without warning. Unable to stand it any longer, I stamp my foot twice, hoping the vibrations will register.

  He whirls around, and as his gaze locks with mine, I know without a doubt, this man would kill to keep me safe.

  “We’re going to find him. No one is good enough to hide forever.” His right hand shakes, and even his prosthetic is balled into a tight fist. “I don’t care how smart he thinks he is or how well funded, he’s going to make a mistake—soon—and my team will make sure he never hurts anyone again.”

  The absolute conviction in his voice is almost enough to reassure me, but in a little over forty-eight hours, I’m supposed to fly home. Back to San Diego. What then? I can’t ask. Because what am I supposed to do with the answer?

  Griff crosses the room in three steps, then reaches up to skim a knuckle along my cheek, slowing my racing thoughts. I try to smile. “I’m sorry I ruined our night.”

  “Don’t apologize. You didn’t ruin a thing.”

  I lean into his touch, needing more. “What now?”

  “Whatever you want, sweetheart. We could get in bed and talk or sleep or—”

  “Kiss me?” After dredging up so much of my past, I need to know Griff’s feelings for me haven’t changed, and I’m too much of a coward to ask.

  His smile reassures me more than any words, and when our lips meet, everything else in the world falls away, and it’s just the two of us. He hasn’t taken off his prosthetic, and his left hand molds to my hip, strong, yet gentle too.

  Smoothing my palms down his back, I savor the feel of his muscles shifting under my touch. He keeps his kisses short, soft, letting me set the pace, and when I capture his lower lip between my teeth for just a second, a low moan rumbles in his chest. I have no idea what I’m doing. My entire education in kissing came from soap operas and movies over the years, but with Griff, my body—or at least my mouth—seems to know exactly what to do.

  Warmth blooms in my core, then tightens into a ball of pure need. My fingers dig into the hard muscles of his ass, and he tears his lips from mine. “Bedroom,” he says, his voice rough. “Or tell me to stop.”

  “Bedroom.” I don’t want this to end. Griff leads me into our room, shuts the door, and yanks off his t-shirt. As soon as he catches sight of the metal running from his wrist to the sleeve covering the prosthetic to his elbow, his confidence fades, his shoulders slumping unevenly. “Griff.” My fingers trail across his chest to his shoulders and all the way down both arms. “What’s wrong?”

  “I haven’t been with anyone since,” he gestures to his left arm. “All my ‘moves’? I need both arms. I’m not even sure I can be on top, and this…your first time—if we get there—should be perfect.” His voice cracks, and he stares directly at my lips. I’m not sure he’s even breathing.

  “It will be.” I wish I knew the right words, but I’ve never had…romance. Or tenderness. Or anything but violence and pain. “I trust you, Griff. And I don’t trust anyone. Or didn’t until my life fell apart a week ago. Not truly. My mama and sisters don’t even know everything that happened to me. You do. Most of it, anyway. And the rest? I’ll tell you. Not tonight, but tomorrow. Or the next day. Or whenever you ask.”

  My eyes burn and water, but I won’t let myself cry. I want this one night. To reclaim a piece of myself that was taken away so long ago with this man who looks at me like I’m his only tether in a storm.

  “Please. Kissing you is exciting and thrilling, and when I’m in your arms—with or without your prosthetic—I’m safe in a way I’ve never been before. You touch me, and I want more. Every time.”

  “Get on the bed,” he says quietly. “There were condoms in the mini-bar. I’ll be right back.”

  He rushes from the room, and I pull back the covers. After so many hours in that form fitting dress, I put on a loose pair of shorts and a tank top. My nipples strain against the fabric, and every movement highlights just how sensitive they are.

  You’d think I’d have some idea of what to expect, but I don’t, so I sit with my feet on the floor, my fingers tapping my thighs so I don’t start chewing on my bottom lip.

  When Griff returns, his dark blue eyes blaze with intensity. The door closes, and he strides toward me without breaking his gaze. I expect him to touch me, to push me down or even kiss me, but instead, he sinks to his knees and takes my hands in both of his. “Sloane, this is probably too soon. But what I feel for you? This stopped being a job for me the moment I talked to you in the bar before you even knew who I was. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted another woman in my entire life. But I meant what I said. If you can’t…if we don’t end up having sex tonight—or ever—I don’t care. As crude as it sounds? I can get myself off if I need to. But finding a woman I don’t have to hide from? Who accepts me the way I am?” He shakes his head, staring down at our joined hands. “Nothing in this world is more important to me than you. Nothing.”

  If I try to speak, I’m scared I’ll burst into tears. The longer I stay silent, though, the more worried Griff looks. “I used to hate myself for trusting bad men,” I whisper. “Then I hated myself for not trusting…anyone. Maybe…maybe I wasn’t supposed to until now.”

  He surges up and cups my cheeks, kissing me until I’m breathless. “If anything I do,” he pants when we come up for air, “makes you uncomfortable…”

  “You’ll know.” I hold his gaze until he nods.

  Gently, he eases me down onto my back and stretches out next to me. “We’ll go slow, sweetheart.” Lifting the hem of my tank top just enough to expose my stomach, he kisses a line down the center of my body until he reaches the top of my shorts.

  Every time his lips touch my skin, there’s a spark of electricity that makes my breasts ache and my core clench. Griff slides his right hand under the soft fabric until he’s cupping the bottom of one of my breasts, then pauses, his blue eyes meeting mine. God, I want more. Need it.

  “I’m okay, Griff. Truly.”

  The first skate of his thumb over my nipple makes me gasp. The second tears a whimper from my lips. No man has ever brought me pleasure by just…touching me. “More?” he asks.

  “More.” I’m squirming, clutching the sheet tightly in my fingers, my toes curling as Griff nudges the tank top higher until the breast he hasn’t yet touched is exposed to the cool air in the room. His lips brush the tight nub, and oh my God. Pleasure shoots straight down, and goosebumps race along my skin.

  “You taste like honey,” he says, then bites down gently. “Fuck. I wish I could hear you.”

  It takes everything in me to release my death grip on the sheet so I can touch his cheek and get him to look up. “You hear my heart.”

  His eyes shimmer, and he scoots up so we’re face to face. “And you hear mine.”

  “Take off your shorts.” I don’t know where this sudden boldness comes from, but I need to see him. All of him.

  “It’s hard…unless I stand up.” With a grunt, he rolls off the bed, and his arousal is already very obvious. A pair of black boxer briefs hide under his shorts, and he arches his brows, asking for permission.

  “Those too. Y-yes.”

  Deep breaths. He’ll stop if you need him to.

  Griff hooks his right thumb under the elastic band, and after a couple of attempts to make his left work the way he wants, I get to my feet and stand in front of him.<
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  “Sometimes…when I’m nervous, my hand…I can’t…” The shame in his eyes is too much for me to bear, and I cover his hands with mine.

  “Then let me.” I can’t believe I’m doing this. Stripping a man naked. Willingly. The Calvin Kleins fall to the floor, and I swallow hard as I take a step back. He’s as big as I’d imagined—feeling him pressed up against me the previous night gave me some idea what to expect—but it’s more than his size. It’s the v that angles to a neatly trimmed patch of hair surrounding his cock, the way the tip glistens, and his thighs. The man has thighs like a Greek god.

  “Say something.” He doesn’t move, and I force myself to meet his gaze. “Sloane? We can stop. Right now.”

  “No.” Before I lose my nerve, I strip off my tank top. The low, appreciative rumble in in Griff’s throat makes me shiver, and I pull down my shorts too, leaving me in nothing but a pair of nude panties. “I know they’re not…um…sexy. But they’re no-show under just about any outfit and—”

  Griff clears his throat. “Sloane? You are the sexiest woman I have ever seen in my entire life and all I want in the world right now is to hold you.”

  Stepping into his embrace, I wait for the panic. The memories. The fear. But his heat calms me. And his scent? It’s intoxicating. Bergamot and oak, like being out in the woods. “Wh-what now?” I ask once I tip my head back so he can see my lips.

  Scooping me up with his right arm, he carries me the three steps to the bed and lays me down with a stifled grunt of pain. Before he joins me, he squeezes his left shoulder—hard—a couple of times, but before I can ask him if he’s okay, he shakes it off and kneels next to me. “Can I touch you, sweetheart? Take off those panties and taste you?”

  I’ve come this far, and Griff hasn’t pushed me, hasn’t done a single thing but be patient, understanding, and…perfect. So I remove the last barrier between us.

  “Fuck. You smell like heaven.”

  With my knees bent, I’m completely exposed, and Griff stretches out on the bed between my thighs. “Once I go down on you, I won’t be able to hear you if you need me to stop. Promise me something, okay?”

  “What?” No man has touched me down there in years, and while I know about oral sex—when I hurt my knee, I read all sorts of romance novels—I’m terrified. Not of Griff. Not of experiencing pleasure. But of how I’ll react. Whether I’ll freak out and ruin what I think could be beautiful.

  “Tap my head. Grab my hair. If anything feels wrong, if you need a minute, if it’s all too much.”

  As soon as I agree, he wraps his right arm around my leg gently and presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh. Excitement and fear tangle in my head when he trails his lips closer to my mound.

  With two fingers, he spreads my lower lips open. “I’ll never get enough of you, Sloane,” Griff murmurs, and the vibrations so close to my clit are almost too much. Thrusting my hips slightly, I ask him for more without words and he understands.

  The first pass of his tongue has my back arching, and I stifle my yelp. Every stroke sends waves of pleasure through me. They threaten to drown me, but if I die like this, it will be worth it. Griff anchors me with his arm, but he’s not holding me down. He’s holding on.

  Digging the heel of my free leg into the mattress, desperate for leverage to get closer, I stare down at the man who’s changed my life in so many ways in only a few days. His hair falls over his forehead, but every few seconds, he flicks his gaze to mine, and though I can’t see his lips, his eyes give him away. He’s smiling.

  I don’t think—can’t with all the amazing sensations taking over my body—and wrap my fingers around his forearm. The second I touch him, his head snaps up, lips glistening with my arousal. “I’ll stop,” he says, but I shake my head.

  “No. I…” How do I explain what I needed and why when my mind is drunk on what he’s doing to me. “I need to hold on to you. Don’t stop.”

  My voice isn’t steady, but the feel of his forearm muscles shifting under my hand is the extra connection I was craving, and I nod, my lips tugging up at the corners despite my complete inability to catch my breath.

  When he returns to whatever magical thing he was doing with his tongue—somewhere in the back of my mind, I swear there’s a pattern, but hell if I care to figure it out—my body catches fire. The ball of need in my core grows, spreading to my limbs, my chest…everywhere.

  Time stops. The rest of the world falls away, and I keep my gaze locked on his. I’m terrified and thrilled at the same time until my core clenches so hard, it takes over my entire body. My whimpers turn into a moan, and then there’s nothing but blinding light, a dull roar in my ears, and waves of pleasure.

  Griff

  I feel the moment she lets go, and my God, she’s beautiful. Drinking her in, slowing the letters I’m tracing on her clit, the ones that spell out the three words I long to say to her, I treasure the gift she gives me.

  Not her release, though I’ll never forget how she looked, sounded, tasted…

  Her trust. After so many men hurt her, after almost two decades with her heart under lock and key, she’s so open with me, it’s staggering.

  Her chest heaves with each breath, and she’s trembling. The ache from my dick spreads all the way to my balls, but I manage to extricate myself from between her thighs so I can pull her against me under the covers.

  “You were—you are—so beautiful.” Kissing the top of her head, I settle her with her leg draped over me. In this position, I can’t see her lips or her face, but after a few moments, a tear hits my chest, and I tense.

  “Did I hurt you, sweetheart? Talk to me. Tell me what you need.”

  Sloane lifts her head, her eyes unfocused, and a lazy, contented smile gracing her lips. “You were…that was…wow.”

  It feels so natural to laugh with this woman. Like we’ve shared these moments for years, not days.

  “We should get some sleep.” Carding my fingers through her hair, I try to memorize everything about this night. Her taste. The feel of each sound she made as her entire body vibrated. The way she coiled so tight, ready to fly, and the arch of her back as she finally let go.

  “No.” This time when I meet her gaze, those brown eyes are clear, determined. “I want all of you, Griff. Or…I want to try. Please. Don’t leave me wondering what it would feel like with you inside me.”

  Fuck. She’s not a virgin. I know that. But this is still her first time. What if I hurt her? What if I can’t balance myself over her? My left arm and shoulder ache, and dammit. If they’d been able to save more of my arm, I’d take this metal monstrosity off. I don’t want her to see it. I don’t want to see it. But I need it, and that’s killing me.

  Holding her hasn’t lessened my desire—or my hard on—in the least so I’m ready for more, but is she? Truly?

  Our gazes collide again, and the gut punch of raw need hits me hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. The only sound I can make when her delicate fingers stroke over my dick is a strangled groan.

  “Is this okay?” she asks. A tiny frown deepens between her brows, and she starts chewing on her lip.

  “Sloane, there’s nothing you could do to me that would be anything but.”

  Covering her hand with my prosthetic fingers, I feel her warmth as she continues to touch me. After the barest skim of her palm over my crown, she sucks in a sharp breath.

  Sloane stares down at her hand, her eyes fixed on the glistening precum with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

  “Kiss me, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you. We can stop—”

  She doesn’t listen to me, just brings her hand to her lips and tastes me.

  I’ve never been so turned on in my life. Her nerves fade away in an instant, and she sighs, the corners of her mouth tugging into a shy smile.

  “I didn’t know if I could…”

  In my silent world, a shout and a whisper look much the same, but the way her shoulders curve, the soft and slow movement of her lips—I thi
nk she meant those words for her—not for me.

  “You can do anything. You’re the strongest, bravest, and most amazing woman I’ve ever known.”

  Rolling onto my side, I snag the strip of condoms from the nightstand and tear the foil with my teeth. I’m too raw, too on the edge to even try using my left hand, something Sloane immediately understands.

  “This, I know,” she says. “Let me help you.”

  Her fingers tremble, but she rolls the latex over my shaft slowly, her eyes never leaving my gaze.

  “Go slow.” Her nerves are back, but just below the surface, there’s also desire. Confidence. Determination.

  Carefully, I straddle her, supporting myself on my elbows. The position puts pressure on my stump, but I’ll endure the pain for this chance to be her first. Maybe even her only. If she’ll have me.

  Nudging at her entrance, I don’t look anywhere but at her. Lips. Eyes. Lips again.

  “Kiss me?” she asks, her brows lifting in a gentle arch.

  “Anytime.” Our lips meet, and she tenses briefly.

  Shit. What did I do?

  “Sloane?”

  She opens for me, her tongue darting out to dance with mine before she reaches for my ass to draw me closer. The head of my dick pushes into her, and she’s still kissing me—now with more fervor, biting down on the corner of my lower lip.

  I feel every vibration when she moans and pulls me deeper. Letting her control my entrance, I lose myself to the feel of her. Slick, tight, hot as fuck. For this one perfect moment, I’m completely hers, and I think she’s all mine as well.

  When I’m as deep as I can go, I break off the kiss. “You’re perfect. Have I said that yet?”

  Sloane laughs, and the movement makes her inner walls tense around me. “Maybe a couple of times.”

  “I mean it. I’ll keep saying it for as long as you let me.”