Dark Blue (South Island PD Book 1) (11 page)

“It’s almost dark,” she said, “do you want to head back?”

“No, but we should. I didn’t bring a flashlight.”

“We can go somewhere else. Walk out onto the fishing pier at the north end of the beach and watch the stars come out, if you want.”

She didn’t want to leave his presence after a brief walk, didn’t want to trade it for the solitude of her apartment. The sea, his touch and his confessions had combined to cast a spell. She was tangled in it like a net – a woven snare of pleasure, heartache and longing.

* * * * *

It was full dark by the time they walked out onto the fishing pier at the end of Blue Mile. It was teeming with nighttime fishermen, anglers pulling in sheepshead and mackerel. Scales flew, flashing silver in the pier lights, as a man cleaned his catch at a large wooden table.

But all that – the sights, sounds and smells of life being wrestled from the sea – paled in comparison to the sky that stretched above its waters.

The moon was a brighter silver than the fish scales, round and almost full in the inky sky. Stars shone all around it, showcased in all their glory by the clear, almost cloudless night. He and Belle stood at the end of the pier, leaning against an open stretch of rough wooden rail, and admired it.

“Is it true that people go crazy during a full moon?” she asked. “Is there more crime?”

“Yeah. I read somewhere that they say it’s a myth now, but whoever
they
are, I don’t think they ever worked the nightshift as a beat cop.”

“Huh. I always wondered. Mariah works in the ER, and she swears the weirdest cases come in when the moon’s full.”

He nodded out to sea. “The moon rules the ocean – everyone knows that. The earth’s about eighty percent water, and the human body isn’t far behind. Don’t see why it couldn’t have some pull on people, too.”

“Makes sense.”

“What about you? Anything crazy happen around campus during the full moon?”

She shook her head, wisps of wind-blown hair brushing her cheeks. “We’re not a residential campus. The students don’t live there, like at a university, so there’s not much going on at night. Except, well…”

Her lips quirked in a smile, and she looked down at the water, sighing.

“What?”

She flashed him a quick glance, then looked back out to sea. “The other day, something weird did happen.”

“Yeah? What was it?”

“It happened overnight, though I don’t know how…”

She told him about the admissions office being compromised and the oversized green dildo being left on display for her and her co-workers to find. She laughed when she was done telling the story, but he didn’t.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, meeting his gaze. “Crap, I knew I shouldn’t have brought it up… It’s ridiculous, right?”

He shook his head. “Maybe, maybe not. Whoever left that in your office might be some kind of freak.”

“It was probably just a prank. A little gift from someone who didn’t get accepted for fall classes, maybe.”

“They broke into your office. That’s criminal activity.”

She sighed and shook her head. The way her hair caught the moonlight made his chest feel tight, his ribs a prison of bone around his speeding heart. Coupled with the idea of someone causing her trouble, it made it hard to breathe, for a second.

“You sound like Mariah. She loves to watch crime documentaries, and she’s got a sinister theory about everything.”

“You should listen to her. She might be right.”

“Do you really think so?” Her smile finally faded, although her eyes were still bright.

“I don’t know, Belle. But you need to be careful. What time does your workday end?”

“Five o’clock. That’s when I head home.”

“You ever stay late or work alone?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Her assurance put him somewhat at ease, but not totally. Maybe it had been a harmless prank, but life had programmed him never to assume that.

Cries of excitement came from behind them, and they both turned.

A fisherman was reeling in something on a rod that was bowed nearly in half, and others had gathered around him.

“Shark,” Jackson said when the animal was pulled level with the pier, its ghost-white underbelly cutting an unmistakable silhouette against the night.

It thrashed on the end of the line, and they drifted closer to join the other onlookers.

It was maybe four feet long, with pectoral fins that dwarfed the one on its back. Its body was thick muscle wrapped in gleaming sharkskin, and its gills flapped behind its blunt snout, clenching in an attempt to draw in oxygen.

“Bull shark,” someone declared.

It lived up to its name, the muscular body writhing in a display of power and aggression, even as it hung helpless in the air.

“Poor little guy,” Belle said.

Jackson snorted. The animal was a juvenile, but it was also the most aggressive breed of shark to be found in South Carolina waters. A four footer could easily take a deadly chunk out of someone – it was hard to think of it as little.

“They should release him,” she said, “he’s just a baby.”

The shark had probably been caught by accident and would most likely be returned to the water after a little gawking and picture snapping. Still, Jackson marveled at Belle’s ability to look at the creature and feel sympathy instead of the fear and fascination that lit up the other onlookers’ faces.

No wonder she laughed at what’d happened at her office and thought her best friend was paranoid. As the bull shark continued to fight, something shifted inside Jackson. Tension ran through his chest, as taut as the fishing line holding up that deadly, finned baby. He tore his gaze from it and looked at Belle instead.

She’d snared him with her optimism, her empathy – both were as sharp and catching as a treble hook. If more people were like her, he’d be out of a job. But her goodness and her lack of the innate suspicion he possessed meant she was the kind of person who would need protecting at some point.

Instinct gripped him, primal and fierce. Maybe it was the moonlight, but he looked at her and wanted to give her that – wanted to shield her from the teethed things that swam in the dark waters of life.

When they walked off the pier together, he held her hand.

It wasn’t until they reached his car that he realized he’d completely forgotten, for a little while, about Sanders and work.

 “Will you come in this time?” Belle asked when they reached her apartment door.

“Gladly, but only if you really want me to.” Jackson stood beside her, his fingertips resting against the small of her back. The light touch was electrifying and had every nerve in her body buzzing as she unlocked her front door.

“I do.” She no longer possessed the willpower that had let her watch him walk away the other night. She wanted more time with him – time to hear his voice and feel his touch. His charm had worked its way into her blood and she had no real plans for what they’d do now, only an irresistible desire to be around him.

Once inside, they shut out the muggy night and were alone in the air-conditioned privacy of her home. The only thing that kept her heart from beating right out of her chest was the sense of comfort and familiarity their beach walk had lulled her into.

She didn’t know him as well as she once had, and not nearly as well as she wanted to. There was no question about that. But she felt at ease around him in a way she rarely did with other people. They just … clicked. They had years ago, and they still did. On some innate, personal level, they were compatible.

Now, she finally dared to explore that compatibility in a sense that was more than physical – to see if it might lead to more than kisses, entwined bodies and intense, fleeting pleasure.

Not that she didn’t want those things. She wanted them so badly that when she looked at him standing just inches from her in her home, her pussy drew so tight it stole her breath.

When he put his arms around her, she leaned against his chest and inhaled, her head spinning.

The scent of the beach clung to the fabric of his t-shirt, and beneath that, she detected either a strong soap or light cologne she could only describe as clean and a little spicy. Even better than his scent, though, was the heat of his body against hers. Even though they’d kissed a couple days ago, this was the closest she’d been to him in years.

She could even feel his heart beat. The fact that it was going so strong when he was standing still, with nothing to antagonize it but her touch, was a pleasure in and of itself.

The image of him in uniform rose to the surface of her mind. He’d looked so striking, so damn hot. Fit and perfect beneath that dark blue uniform – all muscle and power, physical and otherwise. It seemed strange to think of the heart beneath that bullet proof vest racing just because she was close to it.

Likewise, when she thought of him as she’d known him in the past, wading into the sea to wash the day’s heat and strain from his muscular, tattooed and calloused body, she imagined a heart as hard as the rest of him – not soft enough to beat differently for her, or anyone.

The contrast between his body’s appearance and the way it responded to her made her aware of her own racing pulse. Jackson had always been sweeter than he looked, and that was part of what charmed her.

He buried a hand in her hair and she tipped her head back, letting her mouth meet his, just like the other day on the beach.

This kiss was even more searing, more overwhelming. The intensity took her by surprise, scouring all distractions from her mind – even thoughts of the past.

Soon, he had his tongue deep in her mouth. As his stubble pressed against her jaw and he tightened his hold on her hair, the alternating pressure and retreat of his tongue against hers became an unbearable tease.

She clenched her fists at his sides, holding handfuls of his t-shirt. Butterflies whirled in her stomach, just below where his hard cock was pressing into it.

He tipped his head back, bringing his mouth just out of reach of hers.

Her heart pounded in protest.

“We should stop now if you want to stop at all,” he said, meeting her eyes.

His lips were swollen and the look on his face made her tingle all over. No one else had ever looked at her with such undisguised longing – she could see as well as feel how badly he wanted to continue.

“I don’t want to stop,” she said.

Desire had eclipsed her sense of caution. Despite all her talk about taking things slowly, all she could think about was the taste of him on her lips and the hot ache between her thighs. He’d been right the night before when he’d predicted what would happen if he came into her home.

The thing was, she wasn’t sorry. She wanted him too badly to regret anything.

“You sure you want to do this now?” he asked.

His heat still lingered on her lips, and it swept through her entire body as he continued to hold her gaze.

“Yes.”

He withdrew his hand from her hair and gripped her hand instead. “Why don’t you show me your room?”

She led him across the kitchen and toward her bedroom. Each footstep seemed incredibly slow, though she was walking at a normal pace, and the short hall seemed longer than ever before.

She’d never shown anyone inside this bedroom – she’d spent every night for the last four months there alone. The novelty of walking inside hand-in-hand with someone was completely fresh, and that made the thrill of having Jackson there even sweeter.

There was no one she would rather have brought inside than him. In fact, there was no one else she wanted in her bedroom, period.

He was six years of fantasies finally manifested in one solid, rock hard body she couldn’t wait to get to know again.

She sat down first on her blue bedspread, motioning for him to do the same. Once there, he kissed her like he had in the kitchen, only this time his arms were even tighter around her and he moaned when his fingers swept through her hair and cupped the back of her skull.

“Been thinking about this for six years, Belle,” he said when they broke apart.

“Me too.”

The longing in his eyes – the shifting shades of blue – sent a tremor through her chest, jump-starting her already agitated heart.

He still had callouses on his palms. They made her skin pebble and her nipples harden when he slipped his hands under her tank top, lifting it over her head before unbuttoning her shorts.

In her bra and panties, she was no more exposed than she’d been hundreds of times before at the beach, in her swimsuit while surrounded by strangers. But this felt so different – so intimate – that she might as well have been on a different planet, far away from South Carolina.

His gaze was a hot, welcome weight on her body – she would’ve been able to feel him looking even if she’d squeezed her eyes shut.

And she looked at him the same way, hands burning with the urge to peel the layers of his clothing away and expose all his perfect flesh and bone, the first body to ever become part of hers.

As she pushed his t-shirt up, baring his hard, flat stomach, the years of separation after their first time seemed cruel. As if she’d taken a cold drink, then walked out into a desert to wander, always thirsty.

It couldn’t have been any different – not with the stage she’d been at in her life at the time – but part of her regretted it, just the same.

He could’ve found someone else. Could’ve moved away. Could’ve been hurt or even killed. The image of the wrecked police cruiser by the bridge came to mind. Anything could happen in a day, let alone six years.

She was lucky to have another chance with him – a real one, this time.

He pulled his t-shirt over his head, freeing the upper half of his body for her exploration.

At first, all she could do was stare, hands frozen on his chest.

He was even more muscular than he’d been before. Age had thickened his muscles, layered more firm flesh over his strong bones. His skin was a light golden tan and darker on his arms.

The width of his shoulders was highlighted by a tattoo that scrolled below his collarbones, words written in dark ink. It hadn’t been there last time she’d seen him shirtless.

Paratus et fidelis.
The Latin electives she’d taken in college were enough to let her translate silently in her mind. Ready and faithful. A good tattoo for a police officer. She’d be willing to bet he’d gotten it sometime since joining the force.

And below all that, his cock was hard, straining the khaki shorts that rode low on his hips, beneath a trail of body hair. Her body succumbed to a collective shiver, and she reached for the bulge that’d pressed against her belly during their kiss in the kitchen.

It was tempting to let her fingers linger there, to run a thumb up the hard line of that long length, stiff beneath his clothing. But what she really wanted was to feel him bare.

Undoing his button and zipper, she tucked her fingertips into the waistband of his underwear, pulling the lightweight black fabric down until he was uncovered.

The head of his dick rose free and he flexed his hips, thrusting it higher and making it easier for her to slide his clothing down. Then he pulled it off – all of it – and knelt in front of her on the bed.

She inhaled deeply, trying to keep whatever breath she could in her lungs. He was all muscle and light golden tan skin, swirled with reddish-golden hair. The only dark places were his tattoos, and they made the rest of him seem that much more golden in contrast. She could feel his gaze on her, but hers gravitated to the stiff flesh between his thighs.

His cock was straight and thick – perfectly enticing, just as she remembered. It’d been the first one she’d ever touched, and the experience she’d gained since then made her appreciate it even more. The sight of it standing tall above his balls – already tight against his body – set off an aching, empty clenching in her core.

He reached for the shorts he’d thrown on the bed and pulled his wallet from one of the pockets. Unfolding it, he retrieved a condom from inside.

“Don’t put that on just yet,” she said.

Her mouth watered, and she leaned in close, sure of what she wanted to do.

Years ago, before he’d actually put any part of himself inside her, he’d gone down on her. Slowly and intensely, making love to her pussy with his tongue until she’d come against his open mouth. He’d given her pleasure that had made her wet for something she’d never experienced, and that had made the pain that’d followed minimal. She hadn’t forgotten, and now, it was time to return the favor.

“Hold on.” Before she could kneel, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

She was about to ask what was wrong when he slid his hands down her back, and she understood.

In just a few seconds, he stripped her of her bra and panties.

“Jesus,” he said afterward, then groaned, his gaze riveted to her body.

She made to move again, but he placed his hands on her hips. “Let me touch you.”

He ran his hands slowly over her body, as if memorizing the feel of her. Every bit of her he touched tingled and pebbled, goose bumps racing over the surface of her skin and turning her nipples to aching points. He rubbed them when he reached her breasts, making them swell even more.

She could feel the strength of his hands, and the reserve he exercised in touching her so gently. It was impossible not to think of the things his hands had held, besides her body: tools that had left him with callouses, guns and the badge he donned every time he put on his uniform. Tasers and batons – tools designed to hurt, bruise and break. Still, he had a soft touch, and he wielded it expertly.

There was no telling how he’d retained such fluid gentleness through the long years of hard manual work. Whatever his secret, it must’ve been the same one that allowed him to care about the people he’d sworn to protect and serve, even though he’d experienced things as bad and worse himself and had never been helped.