His eyes were lazy and unamused as he reached behind me and opened a cabinet. His arm singed as it brushed mine. His body heat overwhelmed me. And his deep, masculine scent made my head dizzy. My limbs felt heavy and light all at once, my skin buzzing like a live wire.
Out of breath, I watched him set a bottle of peroxide, a cotton ball, and a Band-Aid next to me.
He lifted my foot and began to gently clean the cut himself. I swallowed, stunned quiet. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever done something like this for me. Not since Mamma. How could a man be so cold, and yet so warm all at once?
My heart tripped over its next beat.
I ached. For human contact. For, unexpectedly, him.
I had always been impulsive, never thinking things through. I lived for the moment, for the high and the feeling, and right now, I would do anything to have this man’s hands on me.
With a shaky pulse, I slipped my shirt off and dropped it next to his feet. He went so still even the air quieted, but he took his time putting the Band-Aid on before he let himself look up. Bottomless. Mesmerizing. And hotter than fire. I unclipped my bra while he watched, letting it drop to the floor.
My breasts felt tight and heavy, and the satisfaction from him just looking at my body was nearly overwhelming. My voice came out on a breath.
“You never answered my question, Officer.”
Do you kiss? The silent words floated in the air between us.
He stepped between my legs, and his eyes on my breasts were so hot it sent a flush up my neck. He circled a thumb over the button of my shorts, and my nipples tightened.
“Who am I kissing?”
My heart was racing so fast I couldn’t catch my breath.
He popped the button through the hole.
“One of your women,” I breathed.
I leaned back on my hands to lift my hips as he pulled my shorts and thong down my legs. He threw them to the side and focused his gaze between my spread thighs. His eyes darkened, and he ran a hand across his mouth.
I couldn’t say I was a very modest woman, but I’d never thought I’d be naked, spread-eagled for this man I hated on his bathroom counter. A shiver rolled through me, and he ran a finger down the goosebumps on my arm.
“What do you think?” he said.
He didn’t kiss. And for some reason, I didn’t know if I should feel pleased or disappointed. What I did know was that I wanted to press my lips to this man’s for hours, until I didn’t know where I ended and he began.
His thumb traced my well-maintained landing strip. My stomach tightened. My blood was on fire. He’d never looked at me this way, with such a soft, consuming desire in his eyes, like he’d never seen a woman before. Like I was everything.
It terrified me.
I gasped as he pulled my head back by my hair, pressed his lips to my neck, and made a wild, rough sound of anger, like he’d just been forced to surrender a hard-fought fight. “Play with fire, sweetheart,” he rasped, “you’re gonna get burned.”
He lifted me off the counter, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Walking me down the hall, he held me tightly, as if I was precious, or as if he couldn’t figure out how to hurt me first.
He dropped me on the bed. My breasts bounced from the impact, and his heavy gaze caressed me there. Slipping a hand up my stomach, he cupped one, squeezed. Rubbed a thumb across my nipple.
I exhale
d, pleasure blazing a path to my core.
“Should have known you would be this perfect,” he murmured.
My heart warmed but the feeling was interrupted as he flipped me onto my stomach. His hands caressed my ass, each grabbing a handful.
“Wait . . .” I breathed. “Are we going back to the chalkboard? Before you said all that weird stuff?” A shiver shot up my spine as he nipped my ass cheek.
“Drawing board,” he corrected, before kissing and lightly sucking on my inner thigh.