Daddy Undercover (Crescent Cove 9)

“Yes,” she agreed simply. “You did.”

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. My first mistake was not taking you to New York. Maybe we would’ve had sex. Maybe Samantha would’ve been yours.”

The shock on her face didn’t make me stop. I was fairly certain nothing could do that now.

“That’s what I was afraid of, you gorgeous idiot. I was trying to protect your virtue from me. I could shove down any stray thoughts about you in short-shorts when we were here, surrounded by our friends and families and work and all the reasons we couldn’t be together for real, but alone in a hotel room in New York, when I didn’t have to think about your mom thinking I’d deflowered you—”

Her stunned expression melted into laughter. “Dude, she knows my petals were on the ground years ago.” She grabbed my tie, yanking me to her. “I’m making the first move. Since apparently you need a fucking push.”

She

arched up on her tiptoes and I grabbed her hips, hitching her up as if we’d always done this exact move. Our puzzle pieces locked together an instant before her mouth collided with mine.

I slid my tongue against the seam of her lips, and she parted for me as if she’d always been waiting for this exact moment.

Maybe she had. Just like me.

I was a damn fool in a hundred ways. But I could make up for it.

She squeezed me with her strong as hell legs and rose against me, daring me to keep up as we went at each other. I sucked her lower lip between my teeth, and she made a strangled sound I’d replay for the rest of my life.

“That. Again.”

I anchored her with a hand splayed over her ass as we kissed, and she made that noise again, probably because there was no mistaking I was ready to take this further. As far as it could go.

Next to the damn golden turkey under its dome on the table was not out of the question.

“Not here,” she panted before her sharp teeth nipped my tongue. My cock jumped against my zipper, and she laughed throatily, all dangerous eyes and wet, used lips. “You didn’t disappoint me, Sheriff.”

To hell with it.

I turned her toward the table and set her down on the edge, managing to only knock over one glass of water. Casualty of war. I shoved aside her waterfall of gingerbread-scented hair and nuzzled her neck, so overwhelmed with her scents and tastes I couldn’t decide what to explore first.

Oh, yeah, I knew.

I filled my hands with her breasts as I ran my nose along her jawline. “Perfect fucking handful. I always knew. I want to suck your nipples nice and slow before I move down to—”

“Oh, shit.” She hopped down from the table so fast I blinked. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“What?” My head was literally spinning. I was pretty sure I tasted blood. “Why?”

She gave an unsteady laugh. “Why do people usually go to the john?” Sensuously, she stroked my tie. “Can we continue this later?”

I glanced down at the obvious bulge in my pants. “Do you expect me to eat like this? I’ll knock everything off the damn table if I breathe.”

“Flattering yourself a bit, but not altogether untrue.” Lips twitching, she looked at the puddle of water on the chair beside her. “Think you’ll have to sit in the wet spot.”

“I hate you right now.”

She rolled her tongue over her mouth, and it was a miracle I didn’t embarrass myself. “I’ll make it up to you later. Promise. Besides, do we really want this table to be where we take that next step?”

“Yes.” I dropped my forehead to hers so my breath ghosted over her lips. “It won’t take long. Probably three minutes.”

Her laughter as she tugged on my tie—and simultaneously rubbed her knee against my dick—could’ve sustained me through the darkest winter, even if she was now my mortal enemy. “With an offer like that, we’ll have to eat fast.”

Eleven

There was no way on God’s green earth the first time I had sex with Jared would be while I was wearing this underwear. I could not. He’d mentioned sucking on me and moving down and yeah, no, I couldn’t.