Uncovering Officer Smith (The Discovering Trilogy #2) (14 page)

I somehow feel like it’s more for my support than as a romantic gesture, but it still gives me a shiver, even in the warm June air.

We walk across the patio and down to the lot. His car is situated below a low-hanging tree all the way on the edge of the parking lot. The walk to the car seems to take forever in the warm air, and yet it still ends all too fast. He walks to the driver’s side and I’m not far behind. Our hands have somehow come undone. I slip around the front of the car and as he opens the driver’s door, I’m taking a seat on the hood.

The sound of a door closing makes its way over to me. His eyes are on me, but mine stay on the ground. By the time I glance up again, he’s standing close.

“Are you okay?” His endless blue eyes are at eye level as he hunches over.

Am I okay? I’m more than okay. I’m finally getting what I want. Without warning, I lean forward, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling his lips to mine.

He’s surprised, and it takes him a minute to process what is happening. But when he does, he nestles himself between my legs, pulling my face closer. His tongue caresses mine, deeper and deeper. His hands find their way into my hair, and he tugs on it gently, causing my face to tilt upward. I giggle, biting my bottom lip. My hands slip from his collar down the front of his shirt. He sucks in a breath when they reach the buckle of his pants, but instead I wrap my hands around his hips, pulling him even closer, telling him exactly what I want.

Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes isn’t playing it safe tonight. Tonight is about desire and passion. My image can take a backseat, along with all the homework. Tonight is about a deep-seated need. My heartbeat pumps in my ears. My hands are unstoppable, breathing barely able to keep up with my tongue. I haven’t felt like this in a while – if ever.

It seems like only a few seconds, but by the time we pull apart, all the cars in the parking lot have disappeared around us. I rub my head, trying to focus the blur. John places his forehead against mine. I glance up, hoping to read those perfect eyes of his, but they are closed. Peppermint fills my nose and his breath warms my cheeks.

“John,” I whisper.

He tenses at the sound of his first name. “Yes.”

“Take me home—Your home.”

He lets out a groan. With one swift motion, he picks me up in his arms and carries me to the passenger side.

The drive is silent. That’s all I seem to recall from it. Occasionally, we’d exchange looks and smile at each other. But my mind starts again, when we enter his apartment. He opens the door, allowing me to enter first. I walk inside. He flicks on lights. It looks different at night. The magic of this place was the window. Now, all it’s filled with is darkness. The awkwardness between us increases. It feels like a third person is in the room. John remains by the door. Turning, I see he’s leaning on the kitchen counter, watching me.

Meeting my eyes, he asks, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

I feel the sly smile play across my face. “Is that how it works? You bring girls back here and then ask them if this is okay?”

“Uh.” He looks uncomfortable, leaning on the counter and rubbing the back of his head. “Not really.”

“I mean, I’ve already seen the industrial size condom box – so I hate to tell you but your secret’s already out.”

He takes a step closer, dropping his hand. “I know that’s not you. I’m asking if you’re really okay with this – with
me
.”

“As I recall, I was the one that kissed you.” He smiles and I continue. “Maybe I should be the one asking you, before I take advantage of your
virtue.
” I win a smile, a real one – even his eyes light up. “So, what’s it going to be, prude?”

He takes a few steps toward me. “I’m no prude.” The intensity behind his eyes multiplies.

“So I hear.” The sarcasm in my voice is worse when I’m a little inebriated.

“And what is it that you hear?”

I inform him, walking around his couches with my finger on my lips, “I hear that you are a player, Mr. Smith. I also hear that I should stay away, because you will only break my heart.”

“And that doesn’t scare you?”

I look him square in the eye (at least I think I do). “It takes a lot to break me.”

This surprises him. “I see.”

“Unless you’re scared of my brother?”

“Scared of
your
brother?” he scoffs.

“Well, maybe not physically anymore. He’s far from the quarterback he once was.”

“I did promise not to touch you.”

I come closer. “What if I just touch
you
?”

That has his full attention. He watches me approach him slowly. My hands find their way to the buttons of his shirt. My eyes never leave his as I free the last button from its eye and let the sides of the shirt fall. From there, my hands slide up the tee shirt underneath. I can feel every curve of his muscles through the thin fabric. They tense slightly under my touch, but he never tells me to stop. Those blue eyes are so intensely watching, as if silently willing me not to stop. My hands finally find their way to his neck and my fingers brush past the edges of his hair.

I have to pop up on tiptoes before my hands stop on the sides of his face, pulling him lower.

Just before he brushes my lips he whispers, “Becca.” I pause millimeters from his lips and glance upward. His eyes are closed.

The sound of my name renews confidence. My lips press to his. He groans as his hands wrap around me. I can’t seem to believe that the hot bouncer I’ve fantasized about for months is actually with
me
, touching
me
, kissing
me
. I push him against the wall, bringing us even closer. His hands explore and I need his touch, crave it. I want them all over me.

He spins me around, pushing us through his bedroom door. I feel his fingers trace their way down my form before wrapping themselves around the hem of my shirt. We pull apart only so I can lift my arms, letting him peel the tight shirt from my body. Somehow, the darn thing becomes tangled around my head, causing us to fumble slightly. His laugh is muted as I wiggle out of the shirt.

We reach for each other again, maybe a little too hard. Our noses bump, sending a slight pain shooting into my head. John pauses, too, rubbing his nose before opening his eyes to me. There’s a millisecond of pause where we share a gaze.

Then his lips are on mine in seconds, his tongue caressing. He spins again, tumbling us onto the bed, pinning me underneath him. His hands are on my face, pulling me deeper, as if that were possible.

Our bodies writhe against each other in anticipation as we tear away the other’s clothes. Before I can catch a breath, it seems, both of us are naked. The room is silent, except for the sound of our mouths searching for each other’s in the dark room, the gasps I can’t control, and the bed creaking underneath our every movement.

His fingers trace their way down my jawline, then slowly lower to my neck, enticing me further. His touch on my skin answers questions I never knew I needed answers to. Now, I crave these answers. Those soft fingertips slip around my shoulders and then the under curve of my breasts before going lower and lower, him following them.

I gasp when I feel his mouth and his tongue exploring every inch of me, causing my fingers to clench at the bed sheets.

He reluctantly pulls his lips away, leaving a few pecks on his way back up to my lips. He opens the top drawer beside his bed and I can’t help the giggle that escapes. “Oh, it’s industrial condom box time.”

If I didn’t know any better, I would think he just blushed. “We can stop if you want.” His voice is small, soft.

I reach over him, sticking my hand in the dresser. My fingers grasp around one of the wrappers and I pull it out, and then wedge it in-between my teeth, ripping it open. “Who said anything about stopping?”

The moonlight casts a pale glow across his face. His lips are smiling once they reach mine again.

“Becks,” he mumbles against my lips, “You know nothing good can come from this.”

I look up at him on top of me, and my response slips out before I can stop it. “I’m tired of being good.”

He exhales. I pull his lips back to mine. Carefully, he enters me. I pull my lips away and lock my forehead against his. It’s been so long, I almost forgot what it feels like. It takes me a few seconds before I finally find my rhythm again. He takes it slow, waiting for me to catch up. And once I do, we both can’t seem to catch our breath. It becomes a blur of flesh and pleasure. I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never felt so… desired or sexy. I’m not self-conscious or worried about those extra pounds I never seem to lose. John makes me feel comfortable, like this is natural. It’s all one fluid movement. A dance, and we both know the steps. Flawless.

He collapses into the bed next to me, our frantic breathing still synchronized in the dark room.

“I understand the need for the industrial box now,” I get out between ragged breaths.

He exhales a laugh. “I wish I could say it was like that all the time.”

John wraps his arm around me, pulling my back closer to him. His head finds its way into the nape of my neck. The smell of him is already turning me on, yet again. But my eyes are so heavy. I’m about to pass into unconsciousness when I hear his soft voice.

“You were right. I had you all wrong.”

“Me, too,” I murmur before sleep finds me.

The light filters through my eyelids, causing me to squeeze them tight before opening them. My curtains are wide open, allowing the morning sun to shine through, lighting up my room brightly. But, what surprises me the most is the blonde hair splayed all over the pillow beside me. Blonde. My arm is still under her head. The warmth of her back is pressed into my front. A soft snore escapes her lips as she fusses in my arms. In. My. Arms. What scares me the most is the fact that I think I’m okay with this intimacy. More than okay, I’m oddly comfortable. Even the smell of her is like perfume to my nose. The way her chest rises and falls against me makes my heart stop in my chest. What is this girl doing to me?

She groans, turning around against my arm. Her eyes are closed as she faces me. Blonde eyelashes grace her rosy cheeks. Those cheeks. I remember every crease in her face, from the ones she uses to laugh to the ones she used when she was experiencing pleasure. My finger reaches out to trace its way down the soft part of her cheek. Her eyes snap open, baby blue eyes wide as she pauses, looking back at me. Then they begin to scan the background around me, and I continue to watch as her pupils go wide and she sits up.

“Holy crap.” Her fists clench around the blankets, pulling them up, over the curve of her bare breasts. “I…” Her face falls into the blankets. “I didn’t mean to stay. Do you want me to leave?”

I know the words; I’ve said them a million times to quite a few girls. For some reason, this time the words are stuck in my throat. I cough. “You don’t have to leave.”

“Okay.” She rubs her head. “What happened last night?”

“You don’t remember?” I snap. I don’t know what comes over me.

She shyly smiles, glancing away from me, “I mean, I remember most of it, but I don’t really recall how exactly we started talking again… or how we got here… It’s just a little fuzzy.”