He reached for his jeans again. Tugged the zipper away from him and stroked his palm down his cock. His vision blurred for a bit, a small breath of release whispered through his blood and was gone the moment the stroke was over.
Pounding pressure swelled. He gripped the edge of the dresser as squeezing pain turned to gut gnawing blue balls. Hours more of Tiffany at arms’ length flashed in his mind. Again he saw her in his bed. Saw him between her thighs taking what he’d always dreamed off. Sweat dampening her hair. Color flushing her cheeks as he thrust in and out until she screamed out his name.
Before he thought better of it, his jeans were pushed down a little. His hand was gripping his cock and pumping his length. Pressure exploded. Warm wetness coated his hand. A growl tore up his throat. The tang of sex covered the air. He hunched over his dresser for a breath, for balance.
Hell.
He’d just jacked off with her in the next room. He was losing it. Slowly she was unraveling all his senses. It’d be a miracle if he made it through the night. He hurried and cleaned up, fastened his jeans and for good measure, added a belt.
This was why he had never touched or gotten closer than necessary. This was why he accepted he would never have her. She made him crazy.
He walked back in the living room and found her stretched across the couch. She wore easy to remove green cotton shorts now instead of jeans. Her socks and shoes were gone. Her toe nails were still pink like yesterday at the river.
He was afraid to know what else was in that bag she brought over. The popcorn bowl was in her lap. His coffee table dragged close. Her water was at her elbow. His tea was on the other end of the table. The end away from the recliner, forcing him to either move the drink or sit on the couch with her. Sit by her with her silky smooth legs near him.
She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “There you are. Was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”
He cleared his throat and looked up at the paused TV. The movie title was on screen. His gaze fell back on hers. “You rented
Weekend At Bernies
?”
Chapter Four
Tiffany squeezed her legs together to keep herself from striping off her shorts and undies. He was magnificent. Plainly put, magnificent. And he was still wearing jeans, but that had to be the tightest fitting shirt she’d ever seen him in. Even when on the river, he was usually patrolling and in a loose fitting tan shirt with a badge sewn over the breast. But this thin cotton molded to the muscles of his chest and shoulders...lord have mercy, she could nearly count the rows of abs stretched across his belly.
His jeans were snug on his thighs with a slight loosening at his calves and then his bare feet. It should be a sin to have that body of his with his straight-laced attitude. But oh, if she could just peel back a little layer of his cool, confident control. Not even caring if he saw, she allowed her eyes to crawl back up, studying each delicious inch of him and trying to imagine all of that against her naked body.
His corded neck and tight lips. Ah, that’s where she’d start. With his mouth, soothing his near frown first with her fingertips and then her lips before coaxing them apart with a swipe of her tongue.
Strong cheekbones her palms would cup. And then his eyes. His eyes that were currently watching her.
Weekend At Bernie’s
.
Yes. She swallowed and pulled a hard yank on her lust. “Thought it would be fun. Tell me you’ve seen it.”
“Just a half dozen times or so.” He budged from his spot and came around the end of the couch.
She pulled her feet back, freeing up the end cushion and so much more. Yes, she knew what she had been doing when she sat down. She’d wanted him on the couch with her so she could poke him with her toe if he wasn’t at least smiling at the movie.
She just wanted to know if he was really as stuffed as he let her believe. Or maybe, hopefully, there was another Mike carefully controlled under his skin. Some part of him her body sensed but she had failed to see.
She lifted the bowl. “Popcorn?”
He sat down and hugged the arm of the couch. “Sure.”
She placed the bowl between her thighs. Shameless, really, but when had she ever been modest. Never. And the way he pulled his lips in his mouth, thinking over how to get out of it and realizing he couldn’t, well, that just made it even more worth it as he scooted down the couch a little closer and snatched a kernel from the edge.
She grinned and lifted the remote. “I’m not going to bite, you know.”
“I know.”
He sat upright on the couch. His posture perfect. Shoulders rolled back. Not moving aside from going for popcorn. His arms were stiff and jerky as he snatched kernals and popped a piece in his mouth. She wondered more than once now if someone was operating his tight movements like old Bernie.
By now in the movie, Dead Bernie was trussed up to an umbrella playing a board game and so far not a chuckle out of Mike while she’d already wiped tears from her eyes. Maybe Mike was dead and someone was pulling his strings somewhere. She bit her lower lip and poked him in the ribs with her toe, just to be sure.
He liked to have hit the ceiling. He shouted and grabbed her foot. His sure grip was tight and a step away from hurting, but not quite. He looked at her and
there
. Her breath quickened. Heat filled her body and thighs tingled. That look right there with her foot in his hands. Gone nearly as fast a blink, but it was that looked that hinted of more Mike under all that tightly controlled surface. The barest glances of heat in his eyes as she’d taken him by surprise.
He released her and dusted his hands off. “What the hell did you do that for?”
She sipped her water and caught her breath. “Making sure you’re not dead.”
He adjusted his shirt and sat back into ‘the position’ of hands on thighs, sitting up straight. “I’m not. Don’t do that again.”
“You’re not laughing. Maybe I should poke you at the funny parts.” And try to see that heated look again. To see if it
was
heat, or something else.
His eyes slid to hers and back to the screen. “That wouldn’t be wise.”
She gently jabbed him for good measure. Never tell her not to poke a sleeping lion. “Why not?”
“Tiffany.”
Not wanting him pissed off at…whatever, she wasn’t sure, she retreated a bit. “I just want you to have a good time.”
“I am.” A smile touched his lips and nothing else of his face.
“Liar.” She placed the popcorn aside and sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I don’t get you.”
“Can’t we just watch the movie?”
“Sure. If you’re going to enjoy the movie.”
“I am.”
“Then start laughing at the funny parts and for goodness sakes, relax a little bit. Would it kill you to rest your shoulders and slouch?”
“I don’t slouch.”
“You should. You look uncomfortable as hell sitting there.”
He might have dropped his shoulders a quarter of an inch. Maybe. She leaned back again, unsure on what to do about him, like always. As usual, things seemed hot and cold. Hot and cold. She was tired of the runaround and confusing feelings and the way he made her heart pound in one moment and frustration stopped her blood cold in the next.
When the two boys in the movie tied Dead Bernie off to their shoes and were running to catch the ferry, she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. And noticed Mike didn’t even crack a grin. Okay. Time to play this a little different since he was going to be all hard about it. She sat forward and unhooked the back of her bra.
That
drew his attention. For the briefest of seconds he gave her an amazing stare that had her thighs twitching and mouth watering. And then once again, it was gone all too fast as reality seemed to settle in around him.
“What are you doing?”
“Each time you don’t laugh at the movie when I do, something comes off.” She pulled the straps off her arms and tugged the bra out from her shirt. His eyes dropped to the pink bra dangling from her fingers and then to her breasts. And there was that look again. Desire and want all scrambling around his thinning control. Her nipples tightened. The thin white shirt, which was overly tight, hid nothing. “I want real laughter. Don’t try faking.”
And the look was gone. “Tiffany.”
“I’m in charge. My game, my rules. I can change them as I want too.” She watched a thick swallow pass down his throat. She pushed for more, ready to have everything, whatever it was that made her simmer for years, out in the open. “Like now. Each time you don’t laugh. Something of
both of ours
comes off. I get to choose what on you. You get to pick what on me from here on out.”
His face dropped. That protective
in-charge-don’t-fuck-with-me
cop mask fell away too. She’d never poked at a sleeping lion this large before, but she wouldn’t back down, not when she seemed to be this close to cracking him open. Mike fascinated her and it seemed the really good parts she desired were about to be exposed.
She scooted over. His eyes dropped to her shirt. He could see the shade of her nipples, no doubt, but she didn’t care because oh me, oh my, he was finally for once was looking
at her
. Her body was humming and zipping at speeds of desire and want she’d never felt before. She cupped his cheek, his stubble after the long day pricked on her palm. “This is much better.”
He swallowed, his hands curled into fists, but he kept them on his thighs. “This has bad idea written all over it.”
“Why?”
He blinked and brows dipped. “I’m not sure. It always was a bad idea.”
She leaned closer, ‘cause this Mike letting go of his perfect posture with a strong pulse ticking in his throat was interesting. “Usually the bad things are the fun things.”
His gaze narrowed. “Fun until your ass is in trouble.”
“Mike. We’re two adults. We’re not exactly stopping at the dark corner at the skating rink with our parents on the opposite side. I’m starting to think we’ve danced around this for I don’t know how long. This could be our problem.”
He stared at her, his lips drawn tight. Without a doubt, she knew deep inside they had most certainly been dancing. This was their problem. Chemistry she and he both had hidden so well, the other didn’t realize it was mutual. His gaze dropped once again to the scoop of her shirt and then lifted back to her face. Her heart sank because he had the cop look back.
He cleared his throat, the heat on his face cooled. “We do have one problem. You’ve built a reputation about yourself.”
She sank back, but he grabbed her hand and kept her in place, even pulled her closer. “It’s okay. I understand.”
With a heavy sigh, he shook his head. “I’m not sure you do. It’s not just me. If it was just me, it would be different.”
“But it’s an election year.” She echoed his earlier statement, realization dawning.
He nodded. “And a lot of people put their necks out to persuade the Sherriff to give me this position, him included when he finally agreed.”
She dropped her head to the couch, but as close as he’d pulled her, she ended up on his shoulder. His arm snaked around her back and hand rested on her hip. She unfolded her legs out from under her and stretched them over his lap. His other arm rested on her knees. His palm on her thigh.
As much as it hurt, she understood. Hell, she’d been one judge’s hammer slam away from a Juvie record. Would have gotten that record had it not been for Mike coming out from nowhere during that river bank party and tugging her away seconds before cops raided in. Her knight in shining armor, or rather, her deputy in starched khakis, as he’d stuffed her in his boat at the end of the sandbar that he’d snuck up on as part of his corner to cover for the raid, then went back to do his job.
Stupid behavior then. Her actions the same now, only for desperation. “Thank you.”
“For what?” His hand rubbed over her back.
“Everything, I guess. I don’t think I ever told you so, but instead just gave you grief.”
He stilled. His hand stopped on her back. Even the muscles in his chest and shoulder tightened. “Someone had to look after you.”
“You didn’t have to though.”
He gave a careless shrug. “I was around. Might as well have made myself useful.”
He had been around because his best friend had been dating her cousin, Jessie. It seemed ages ago, and it was. Jessie, just barely over eighteen. Tiffany, only sixteen when their parents were coming home from the county fair judging and ran off the road on that rainy afternoon. Jessie inherited her parents’ house and Tiffany. Cousins by birth. Like inseparable sisters growing up. Then suddenly supposed to be mother and daughter. Jessie did well enough. Made sure social services didn’t come, but Jessie was no parent to a teenager who fell into her custody. Never was supposed to be.
Even still, Mike was around a lot more then because his best friend was around seeing Jessie, that was for sure. He stuck around even after the best friend was gone from Jessie’s life. Air deflated from her chest. “You still did more than you had to.”
“You’re not laughing.”
“Huh?”
His hand peeled off her thigh long enough to point at the TV. “I figured this to be a favorite part.”
She glanced up at the flickering screen and chuckled right away as Dead Bernie was being towed behind the ski boat. A slight, barely registered shudder lifted Mike’s chest. She glanced up and found him honestly grinning.
Mission accomplished for the night and she relaxed against him, her head resting back on his padded muscular shoulder.