Just Kidding (SWAT Generation 2.0 1)

Why was I saying this? Because I spoke when I got nervous.

Things just sometimes poured out of my mouth with me least expecting them.

“No,” he admitted. “Where did you learn that from?”

I opened my mouth to say that I’d overheard one of his fellow cops discussing it when he lowered his mouth to touch the tip of my nose.

I swear he took the words right out of my mouth the moment he laid his lips on my skin.

My hands did their own exploring then, moving up the silken length of his neck to cup his jaw with both hands.

When I had him where I wanted him, I placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Just at the corner where he usually kicked it up when he brought that deadly smirk out to play.

“Take me inside,” I urged.

“Your place or mine?” he asked, still not moving anything but his hands.

And all those were doing was running up and down the length of my thigh, as if he was trying to distract me.

“I don’t care as long as my back hits a bed,” I told him bluntly.

He picked me up then and started walking toward the front door.

I felt my dress fall down to cover my ass, but his hands were still firmly placed right on them as he moved.

“The truck door,” I reminded him before placing kisses on his throat.

He growled as he stopped, turned, and kicked.

The truck door slammed with a loud crash just as a pair of headlights turned in our direction.

At first, Dax didn’t stop or even acknowledge the truck that’d pulled in, but when they stayed on us as he quickly worked to open the door while holding me to the wall, Dax cursed.

I looked over his shoulder at whoever was spotlighting us and prayed it wasn’t my brother.

That would be something he’d do for sure.

Dax slowly let me fall from his grip, his mouth on my ear. “Wait here.”

I didn’t have a choice as he turned his back on me and started down the stairs.

Instead of following him with my feet, I followed him with my eyes.

He’d barely made it to the front porch steps that separated the entrance to our places from the sidewalk that was in front of every place when the feminine voice spoke up.

“Dax, do you have a moment to speak?” Rachelle spoke, voice unsteady.

I looked past her car’s headlights, hoping to get a good view of her, but couldn’t find her in the darkness.

Dax obviously had no problem finding her, though.

Arms crossed tight over his chest, he said, “Now’s not a good time.”

Rachelle let out a long sigh then said, “I just wanted to apologize for how I treated you in high school. That wasn’t nice.”

That wasn’t nice? What a crock of shit.

“You’re not forgiven,” Dax said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you interrupted something.”

When he turned his back on Rachelle, she finally came forward enough that I could see her.

“Dax, stop being a dick and let me talk to you,” she snapped.

I stiffened as did Dax.

He didn’t stop walking until he was at my side, though.

Once there, he looked at me as if I could help solve the predicament he found himself in.

And that was when I realized that he was giving me free rein. To do what I would with it.

Protect him or disappoint him. The choice was up to me.

I turned away from his gaze and stared down Rachelle as she came even closer.

“We have plans, Rachelle,” I said softly. “Plans that don’t include you and whatever your purpose here is.”

Rachelle stiffened at my words.

“This particularly pertains to Dax and what happened when we broke up when we were teenagers,” she said. “I owe him an apology.”

I rolled my eyes.

“The time for an apology should’ve been when it happened all those years ago,” I told her bluntly. “Do you know what he could’ve done to you?”

Rachelle frowned.

“If Dax wasn’t a better person, you could’ve been in some serious shit,” I told her. “You could’ve had to spent up to fifteen years in prison for that stunt you pulled.”

Her mouth fell open.

“What?” she yelped. “Why?”

I looked at her like she was a bit slow.

“Tell me,” I said. “How old were you when you did that? Sent that picture out to everybody?”

She swallowed, looking as if she’d rather punch herself in the face than answer my question.

“Nineteen,” she answered.

I nodded. Good.

“Dax was seventeen,” I told her. “Technically a minor according to the law.”

Her eyebrows pulled down as she looked at me with a confused expression on her face.

“Yeah, so?” she pushed, not quite understanding yet.

“So when you sent that picture to everyone, technically, you as the adult in the situation would’ve been tried as an adult if Dax had decided to pursue it,” I told her. “You could’ve faced a minimum of fifteen years in prison. You could’ve had to pay fines. Then, when you got out of prison, you would’ve been required, by law, to register as a sex offender.” I tilted my head. “And if that’s not bad enough, each time you moved, it’s your duty to inform your neighbors that you’re a sex offender. All over a naked picture of Dax’s backside you felt you needed to share.”