Between The Lines (Hot in the City Book 4)

by T Gephart

  So that’s how you’re going to play it, huh?

  The suggestion was not one I was expecting, but I wasn’t backing down either. I’d come all the way from Midtown knowing I was probably thirty minutes away from being tossed out on my ass. And if she thought that me getting naked in her living room was going to bother me, she picked the wrong person to play the game.

  “As you wish,” I added with an exaggerated flourish, folding myself at the waist as I bowed like she was royalty. Then straightened, my fingers not taking much time to unbutton my shirt and pulling it apart at the middle.

  There was only the slightest reaction, her eyes darkening as she watched me pull off my shirt with no hesitation. It dropped to the floor, my fingers moving to my belt, keeping our stare locked as I unhooked it and then moved to the fly of my pants.

  She chewed on the corner of her lip, not saying a word as I continued to strip, pushing my pants down my legs before kicking off my shoes and pulling off my socks. If this turned out like that time Leighton and I went camping when we were eighteen and the son of a bitch stole my clothes, I was going to be pissed. I’d had to walk back from the lake completely naked, saved from catching an indecency charge on account it was dark and we were in the fucking woods.

  I was positive I wouldn’t have the same amount of luck this time around if I ended up walking home with my dick hanging in the breeze. My fingers hesitated at my boxer briefs just waiting for her to call time out.

  Any minute now. My thumbs hooked in the waistband when I heard the sharp intake of air.

  “Should I stop?” I asked, willing to play it all the way to the end. After all, I wasn’t shy, and if she wanted a free peep show, I had no problem giving her one.

  Spending a lot of time in the gym and working with the fire department gave me the kind of body that backed up the arrogance. So yeah, she might be doing it for sport, but she also didn’t hate what she saw either. That was pretty fucking obvious, her eyes rolling over my skin like she was measuring me up for a suit.

  “Ricci?” I pulled down the elastic just enough it hadn’t slipped into dick pic territory yet. But another inch and it was going to be anything other than decent. “I’m not in the habit of sexual harassment. So if you want me to keep going, I’m going to need a verbal confirmation.”

  There was a line.

  And fucking dare or not, I wasn’t going to cross it.

  Not with her.

  Her dark eyes tangled with mine, her lips parting slightly as she sucked in a breath.

  “You were just going to get naked because I asked?”

  And ladies and gentleman, we have a winner.

  I fucking knew it.

  “That’s usually how it works.” I adjusted the waistband of my boxer briefs so all the good bits stayed hidden, but didn’t make any moves to put the rest of my clothes back on.

  “Just like that . . . I say take them off and you do?”

  I wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or disbelief that had her repeating the question, the look on her face unreadable.

  It was fascinating.

  She wasn’t horrified, and sure as hell didn’t look offended. In fact, what seemed to be mostly getting under her skin was there was a guy willing to get naked in her living room and she couldn’t understand my motivation.

  Hmmmm.

  Interesting.

  “You’re concerned I’m too compliant?” I asked, raising a brow. “Or is it my virtue? You trying to save me, Ricci? Worried random women are taking advantage of me?” I finished with a laugh.

  Because if that was what she thought, it was motherfucking hilarious.

  Her lips twitched, like she also thought it was funny but didn’t want to give me the satisfaction of a reaction. It was kind of sexy. The ridiculous amount of control she had over herself gave nothing away.

  She strolled over, her hand extended like she was going to touch me but instead grabbed my chin, pulling it down so our eyes met. “Did you come here thinking I was going to fuck you?”

  And if her control was a turn on, the casual way she said fuck was on a whole other level.

  Jesus.

  “Nope.” I didn’t even have to lie, knowing sex hadn’t been on the table. “But I’m also not a pussy. And I was curious.”

  She was so close, her lips just barely out of reach. And even though kissing probably wasn’t on the table either, I couldn’t help but wonder what her mouth would taste like. Had she’d always been that hot? How the hell could I have not noticed.

  “Basically you’re telling me you have shitty impulse control and an inability to back down.” Her eyes darkened, one of the corners of her mouth edging into a grin. “Just how far would you have gone, Tibbs?”

  Her voice was low, stroking my name like I wanted her hands to do to other parts of my body.

  “Pretty fucking far.” I didn’t hesitate, because she wasn’t wrong. I did have issues with impulse control and backing down. And even more importantly, I didn’t see either of them as a personal flaw.

  Her hand moved from my chin to my chest, her fingertips hovering over the skin but not making contact. I had no idea what she was doing, or why it felt so good, but if she wanted to do it all night, I wasn’t going to be the one to say no.

  She tilted her head, bringing her mouth to my ear and whispered, “What if I got naked?”

  “Fuuuuuccccck.”

  It was a curse and a fucking prayer, the jolt running down the length of my cock so strong I thought I was going to come. No one had even touched it yet, just the sadistic mind game and the idea of her naked, enough to get me off.

  Until she laughed.

  The control she’d previously had locked down, completely gone as she giggled her fucking ass off. Meanwhile I was still turned on and mostly confused.

  “You are too easy, Tibbs. You thought you had me with your little striptease. I didn’t even have to take a thing off.”

  Goddamn it.

  She’d won.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  And she wasn’t wrong either. I’d been prepared to stand around with my dick in my hand in an effort to make her crumble and all she had to do was whisper in my ear.

  “You play so fucking dirty, Ricci.” I leveled her with a stare even though I wasn’t half as pissed off as I was pretending. “I thought cops had more integrity than that.”

  Her hands pushed roughly against my chest. “And I didn’t know you’d be such a sore loser. So I guess we both learned something new.”

  And even though the touch wasn’t sexual, I liked it, holding her hands still against my skin. “Yeah. Maybe we did.”

  She smiled, and it wasn’t the fake kind either, her whole face lighting up. And if I thought she’d been beautiful before, she just elevated to another level. “You can put your clothes on, Tibbs. I’ve had my fun.”

  “Oh, so that’s how it is?” My hands settled on her waist, holding her still as I gave her a grin of my own. “I’m just here to amuse you? Wow, heartless as well as cruel. And while we’re at it, why don’t you explain to me why I’ve never seen you dressed like this.” My eyes flicked down to her dress and the smoking body it was hiding underneath.

  “It takes a special kind of talent to make the way I dress to be about you,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Could you be any more conceited?”

  I shrugged. “I mean, I could but I feel like the effort is wasted since no one else is around to see it.”

  And then the laughing stopped.

  Her beautiful smile dropped, and whatever easiness I’d been feeling leaving along with it. So fucking fast too, the air cooling between us in an instant as she took a step back. “You should get dressed; I’ll get you an Uber.”

  “Wait a minute.” I reached for her, my fingers curling around her arm before she got too far. “We were talking shit and having a good time a minute ago, what just happened?”

  Because I know I didn’t imagine it. And while Ricci a
nd I had always been cool, it felt like maybe we were getting to know each other a little better. I liked it. Even if I was still bewildered how beautiful she’d obviously always been, and I’d been clueless.

  “Nothing happened. Just get dressed.”

  She almost had me convinced, except I wasn’t stupid. “Just tell me already. I know you’re pissed off.” And if I could be guaranteed it wouldn’t earn me a knee in the balls, I’d have told her she was just as hot pissed off as she was when she laughed. But that currently wasn’t the point, and as we’d already established, I had a problem not pushing an issue.

  “I’m not pissed off, I’m bored. We’ve both had our fun, but I’m on duty tomorrow.”

  The mask of indifference slipped back over her face, her tone giving nothing away. Maybe I’d been mistaken and read it all wrong. “O-kay, I’ll get dressed then.” I lifted my hands, taking a step back. “What shift you working tomorrow?” I switched gears, testing to see if small talk was going to be shot down too.

  “Four to twelve.”

  She watched as I reached for my pants and pulled them on, following my hands as I zipped and re-did my belt.

  “At least you don’t have to deal with the early morning, that’s got to be nice.”

  Next was my shirt, the fabric slipping over my shoulders before my fingers got busy with the buttons. It had been a lot more fun taking it off but—whether she wanted to admit it or not—I still had her attention.

  “Yeah, I’ll go organize your ride.” She made a move to get her phone, my hand on her arm stopping her.

  “I can get my own ride, but thanks. Besides, it would be too much like you leaving money on the dresser beside the bed, and I don’t want to feel cheap.”

  The shadow of a smile returned, and I liked that she hadn’t totally frozen me out. Funny how a couple of hours ago I wouldn’t have given a shit what she thought. Not that I didn’t appreciate the NYPD, but if one of them didn’t like me, I wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it. But yeah . . . with her, I cared.

  “I wouldn’t want you feeling cheap.” She reached down and handed me my shoes, the words thankfully lacking animosity. We hadn’t totally regained whatever ground we’d lost, but I was hopeful.

  Figured if she wouldn’t tell me why she was pissed, maybe I’d settle for changing her mood. Because given a chance, I’d like to revisit that smile.

  She didn’t even try to hide that she was watching, barely blinking as her eyes stayed locked on me. Something other than standard interest smoldered behind those beautiful dark lashes, clear I wasn’t the only one feeling the newfound attraction.

  “Last chance, Ricci,” I asked, adjusting the rest of my clothes. “You sure you don’t want something else before I leave?”

  It was risky, but I couldn’t help myself, the chance to play a little longer too tempting.

  She coughed out a laugh, anchoring her hands on her hips. “Nothing you can give me, Tibbs. But if I ever get desperate, I’ll let you know.”

  It was my turn to laugh. Because regardless of what was coming out of her mouth, her eyes were saying something else. And I had a hunch the desperation she might feel would be an entirely different kind.

  “Suit yourself.” I shrugged, already planning my next move. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

  “Yeah, guess so,” she murmured, walking with me to her front door. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

  I leaned in, smelling the sweetness of her perfume or shampoo or whatever it was that made her seem so delicious. “Oh, I intend to, Ricci.” And without bothering to hide my smirk, I strolled out of her apartment.

  There wasn’t a chance I’d forget any of it.

  How hot she was.

  How hungry her eyes were.

  Or how much I liked her smile.

  And if she thought we were just going back to professional courtesies, she was mistaken.

  Not a chance, sweetheart.

  Not even close.

  Tessa

  ME AND MY big ideas.

  Invite him to your apartment, Tessa, let the guy get almost naked. Because that was going to solve all kinds of issues. Ha! What a fucking dumbass. Me, I mean. But he wasn’t too far behind.

  So predictable too. Him, I meant. Or maybe me too. But seriously, he suddenly pays me two ounces of attention and I was supposed to what? Fall over myself?

  Not.

  Fucking.

  Likely.

  Granted I did enjoy messing with him.

  And watching him take off his clothes was a treat I couldn’t have even hoped for. But if he thought we were going to be anything other than acquaintances then he was delusional. And sure, I might have encouraged him a little, genuinely letting my guard down and enjoying the mental tug-of-war. But that was all it was.

  Entertainment.

  Because I was bored.

  That had to be the reason why—because I’d clearly lost my goddamn mind—I thought he was sexy. And why my stupid disobedient hands had wanted to touch him so badly. He definitely lived up to the hype. His body deserved all the adulation I’d heard about it and more. It needed a parade, and a key to the city, and a monument in Columbus Circle. The idea of what that body was capable of not really hypothetical when the display teased with dirty promises. Ones I’d have very much liked to find out.

  Pity his mouth was attached to it.

  Two things.

  One, he’d probably been bored too.

  That had to be the reason he’d said all those things about me being beautiful or whatever, because he’d never so much as sniffed in my direction. I was a substitute, a way to pass the time, a method to amuse himself. Which to be fair, I couldn’t totally be mad at because that was what I’d been doing too.

  And two, if I was dumb enough to think there was a legitimate connection and maybe that spark/attraction/voodoo was real, he’d have probably slept with me and then forgotten me just as quickly. And how fun would that be next time our paths crossed on the battlefield? Or worse, if someone found out.

  Nope.

  If I wanted to have a meaningless fling with a hot guy it would be with someone I didn’t have to meet in the field. Or worse, see in the future casually over drinks and watch while he gargled another woman’s tonsils.

  I definitely had my father’s temper.

  Which was why I was actually doing Tibbs a favor by not even entertaining the idea of the two of us hooking up.

  Assuming that was what he wanted.

  And I wasn’t sure he did.

  Gahhhhhhhh.

  Why the fuck did I even care? Why was I even wasting a second, let alone a whole freaking morning—after an equally long sleepless night—thinking about it. It was done, dusted, over. And while it had been mildly amusing, I probably wouldn’t see or hear from him again for who knows how long.

  In fact, he’d probably gone right back to the club, found some other woman, and gone to take his clothes off in her apartment. And I’d bet she didn’t ask him to stop when he got to his underwear. I probably could’ve waited until he had them off before I called his bluff, because he looked pretty committed to going all the way. No harm in looking, right? It wasn’t like I had my service weapon against his head, forcing him to do it either; he’d offered. And yes, it would have totally been wrong, using him in that way. Sexist. Degrading. And if the situation had been reversed, I’d have been horrified. So I was a hypocrite, but at least I was honest.

  Still. . .

  No.

  Hot or not, he was off-limits. I didn’t want to be someone’s flavor of the month, didn’t need to be stationhouse gossip, and didn’t want to complicate a relationship which was just fine the way it was. I’d just keep my stupid sexy thoughts to myself—because the safety of my imagination was totally okay—and use them when I was alone.

  And horny.

  When I needed to get off.

  “You’re dropping your left,” my dad shouted from behind me. “You want to end up with a fist to the face
?”

  I spun, the sweat pouring off me as I lowered both my gloved hands. “I don’t think the bag is going to swing back. I’d say I’m fairly safe.”

  He shook his head, steadying the heavy bag that hung from the ceiling truss. “You do something, you do it properly. You train at full intensity so if there’s ever a reason, you haven’t learned bad habits. Now, lift your hands again and show me what you got, Baby doll. I know I didn’t raise a woman who walks into the gym because she wants to look good in lycra.”

  I laughed, because as much as my dad was a hard ass, he loved his girls fiercely. He wasn’t even afraid to show it, hugging me whenever I walked into his gym and telling everyone how proud he was. I’d assumed he’d always wanted a son, but they were words he’d never once said. Instead he raised two daughters who could change their own motor oil and throw one hell of a right hook. And he totally worshiped my mom, showing me exactly what a good man looked like.

  Without argument, I lifted both fists and fixed my stance. He nodded silently, holding the bag and grinning as I alternated between jabs and upper cuts. “Just so you know,” he chuckled from behind the vinyl, “if you ever want to turn pro, I’d have no problem being your manager. Just don’t tell your mother I suggested it. She’d serve my balls up on a platter.”

  I was fairly sure that the only thing on earth my dad was afraid of, was my mother when she was mad. And for good reason too. Because as tough as he’d trained both me and Emilia—my sister—to be, that fierce DNA we got from our warrior mother. I think that was why he bought the boxing gym when he retired from the Marines. He needed to keep sharp and fit, and have a place to hide out whenever they had a disagreement.

  “Your secret is safe with me, Pops.” I laughed, enjoying the exhaustion in my muscles and the distraction from my previous thoughts. It had been the reason I’d come to the gym in the first place, hoping some time beating the shit out of something might eradicate what I knew were nothing but bad ideas. Sexy ones, but bad nonetheless.

  When Dad was satisfied my form was up to scratch and I’d sweated a third of my body weight onto the mat, he told me to go hit the showers. “You’re working today.” He waved me off when I told him I was still good. “Don’t want you out there with nothing left in the tank. Shower, refuel, and recover,” he instructed, his concern hovering between father and trainer. “And make sure you tell Miller I’m still waiting for him to get his ass back here too.”