“Grab me a beer, choux. Defiling cars is thirsty work.” He wasted a minute watching the shorts rise and fall on her thighs as she walked up the steps, then drew his phone from his back pocket when it chimed.
“Yessir,” he answered, recognizing the number.
“Hey, Swain. Sorry to bother you on a Sunday.” Sheriff Malone’s voice strolled over the line, unhurried and not particularly apologetic. “Have I caught you at a good time?”
“Yep. What’s up?”
“I need to put you on another assignment.”
The bottom dropped out of his world at the same time the screwdriver fumbled from his hand and hit the dirt. “Don’t pull me off this op. We’re making good progress here,” he replied quickly, prepared to talk fast and talk convincingly, because tapping out early was not an option. A non-option he didn’t want to have to explain, considering he didn’t, personally, give two shits about a small-time marijuana business that would probably be legal come the next election. But he did care about convincing Eden to waste her energy on him outside of the op, and to accomplish that, he needed time to show her just how reliably he could deliver those orgasms on demand. He needed…dammit to hell. He just needed, and this call slammed him face-first into the realization that it was more than a casual need. “We’re so close—”
“I’m not taking you off your current assignment,” Malone replied with the relaxed tenor of someone who didn’t realize he’d sent his audience into a tailspin. “I just need to add another op. Your part is small. Mostly courier. I think you’ve got the bandwidth, and frankly, we need someone nobody on the county payroll will recognize. That’s you.”
Malone explained the deal while Swain let out a breath and leveled his pulse. It was a simple enough gig. On a date and time yet to be determined, meet an administrative assistant for the county at a designated location and pick up documents and other support incriminating her boss—the county treasurer—in an embezzlement scheme. Bring it to HQ and turn it over to evidence. He could do it in his sleep.
The screen door banged closed behind Eden as she stepped out onto the porch. She held a beer in each hand and glanced anxiously at her car.
“I got it,” he told Malone. “Not a problem.”
“Great. I know I don’t need to say this to you, but discretion is of the essence, given that the county’s on both sides of this investigation.”
“It’s not a problem,” he reiterated, getting to his feet. He sent Eden a grin and twirled the screwdriver. She rolled her eyes.
“Things going well on the domestic front?”
“Never better.”
Eden leaned against a porch column and wagged his beer at him.
“Good. Keep it that way.”
“Will do,” he replied as Malone disconnected. Eyes locked on her, he pocketed his phone and walked over to join her. “Consider yourself mobile, choux.” He accepted the beer she offered and took a swallow. “That car is good to go.”
Holding on to the post, she leaned forward and inspected her newly tricked-out ride. “That’s one opinion, but”—her attention shifted to him—“I suppose I appreciate you doing the dirty work.”
“Dirty work is kinda my specialty.”
She placed her beer on the porch rail. “Finally, we agree on something.” A slow smile curved her naked lips, and a slim finger hooked under the top button of his fly. Her eyes widened for an instant, which told him she’d discovered his hard-on, and then she pulled him closer. “How dirty?”
Did she still not realize that was entirely up to her? She wielded all the power in this dynamic. She always had. If she knew his heart had dropped into his boots when he’d thought Malone intended to pull him off their assignment, she’d understand exactly how caught up he was in her. If she did know, what then? He gave himself a mental shake. Too risky. He put his beer on the porch rail beside hers and stuck with what he did best. “How dirty would you like it?”
Now her smile turned crooked. The finger in his jeans tugged harder. “I guess we’ll find out.”
He let her lead him by his cock—literally—across the small porch, well aware it was the only part of him she fully trusted, but when she backed through the screen door, he dug his heels in and dropped a fast, hard kiss on her lips. “Speaking of dirty—I am. Dirty and sweaty.” He uncurled her fingers from his jeans, took her hand in his, and gave it a quick squeeze. “Gimme three minutes in the shower, and then—”
She shook her head. “It’s not your turn in the shower, cooyon. Didn’t you check the schedule?”
“I suppose I neglected to study it. Shame on me. What can I do to convince you to adjust that schedule of yours?”
One dark brow arched. “Nothing. The shower is mine.”
“Nothing?” He tossed his cap on the newel post, then peeled his T-shirt over his head. “You sure?” Toe to heel, he stepped out of one battered Nike, then the other. Deciding turnabout was fair play, he hooked a finger into the loose V of her neckline and reeled her to him. “One little favor?” Taking hold of her hips, he walked her backward through the living room and into the hall. “One teeny tiny little favor?”
She flattened her palm along the center of his chest. “I’ll tell you what, Swain. Just this once, I’ll compromise on the schedule. I’ll share my shower with you.”
His imagination leaped on the offer, immediately picturing Eden all slick and wet and pinned between the tile and his body, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked a noisy orgasm out of her so the sound of her coming echoed all around them in the acoustics of the shower. “Kind of a tight space to share, choux.” He steered her into the small room and closed the door behind him. “It might be tough to move around.”
She leaned into him, smiled up at him, and put her fingers to work unbuttoning his jeans. “I think we can manage. Turn on the water, and we’ll see.”