Under My Skin Page 4

  I ignore the voice in my head telling me it's a mistake.

  Her head is down on the wheel, and she looks more defeated than she did when I first pulled her over. She's oblivious to her surroundings.

  Stupid girl. Doesn't she know that she's easy prey like this?

  I tap on the window, and her head jerks up. Angry blue eyes bore into mine challengingly, and I step back when she jerks her car door open.

  "You don't have to get out of your car." My voice sounds sure and steady, but when she steps out of the car, the facade deserts me.

  Her petite figure is decked out in a tight red dress that hugs the curve of her waist and flares out gently around her hips. It’s molded to her body and the neckline is a deep, distracting V. I try to keep my eyes on her face and off her body, but I keep thinking that it even though it’s summer, it’s fucking chilly outside tonight, and she's standing in the middle of a road in nothing but her tight clothes and a serious pair of fuck-me heels.

  "I can't roll my window down because my car won't start!" she shouts accusingly—like it's my fucking fault.

  "So?"

  She plants one of her tiny hands on the curve of her waist, and my eyes follow the movement.

  I think she's saying something. Her mouth is moving and sound comes out, but it's all white noise to my ears.

  All I can see is her. She’s got something glossy on her lips. It makes them look even more plump and pouty and she’s wearing her long dark medium brown hair down. The color reminds me of my favorite roast of coffee. It falls from the top of her crown into layered edges that brush against the sides of her fucking spectacular tits.

  And her eyes...

  Her eyes are bright and shining. They're animated, moving wildly here and there, fringed by thick dark brown lashes and in this very second, the realization that this girl is going to be my un-doing hits me like a ton of bricks.

  I shouldn’t want her, but I can't help the feeling itching in my fingers...like I want to grab her and never let her go.

  The feeling that this girl is meant for me.

  It seems like we're on different pages though, because right now, she's stamping her obscenely high-heeled tiny foot on the pavement.

  It turns out to be an unwise move, because the spike of her heel cracks in half against the pavement and her ankle rolls underneath her.

  I'm a big guy, but experience has taught me to move swiftly so the scream hasn't even left her throat when my arms reach under her and I break her fall. She's dainty between my palms and my hands feel warm and ungainly, holding all that delicacy.

  She squeals, but her sound of distress is belated because I've already got her in my arms. My arm is curved around her waist, and I pull her up to my chest so she's a few inches off the ground.

  Her glittery blue-green eyes aren't angry any longer. Instead, they're wide and vulnerable.

  She looks surprised that I caught her.

  What kind of dicks did this girl date?

  Did she really think I'd have let her fall?

  It's impossible to tear my eyes away from hers. "You could have had a nasty fucking spill just now," I grunt.

  Her eyes soften further, and then I go and ruin it all.

  "What the fuck are you thinking, wearing shoes like that? God only knows even if you could manage to walk on these death traps, you'd probably fall flat on your face the minute your heel touched the ground.”

  And just like that, her face shutters closed.

  Way to go, dickhead.

  Her pretty face screws up, and she turns her nose up at me. "Are you serious? I don't remember asking you to sweep me off my feet, jerkoff." She struggles against my chest, pushing against me with puny strength.

  I can bench two-fifty easy, and I bet she weighs less than half of that. If she thinks she's getting loose, she's got another thing coming.

  "Stop manhandling me!"

  The mulish expression on her face makes it seem like she wants nothing more than for me to let her go, but the look in her eyes tells me something different.

  She wants me.

  I decide it's time to change tactics, and I gentle my embrace around her. I keep my arms around her, but I set her lightly on the ground. I'm still supporting her though, leaning her body weight into mine. "If I let you go, you'll fall.”

  My eyes pierce into hers, and the next breath that escapes her leaves her body with a shudder. Her pretty lips separate in a part, but no sound escapes.

  I’m reluctant to end it—this moment with this beautiful girl in my arms looking at me like I'm ten feet tall, and she never wants me to let her go.

  I loosen my hold around her just enough so that she can step away from me without a struggle, but she doesn't move away. If anything, she moves closer, and I curse the thick material of my uniform because it limits just how much I can feel. I can still appreciate her softness though, as she presses into my harder body. She molds herself into me, breast to chest, our stomachs pressed together, hip to hip.

  Her eyes widen when she feels my hardness.

  "Oh holy hell,” she whispers. "That's not your gun, is it?"

  Pearly white teeth saw into the soft skin of her lower lip as she tugs the flesh back and forth nervously.

  "Trust me Princess. My gun's got nothing on what I’m packing between my legs."

  I can tell when my words finally register in her brain. Her reaction is delayed by a few seconds, but when her lashes flutter against her cheeks and her head tilts back, I know she's waiting for me to kiss her.

  The temptation to indulge is fierce. It takes everything inside me not to bend my head and dip my mouth into hers.

  It would be so easy.

  Just a nudge here and my mouth would be on hers, but I know one taste won't be enough.

  I won't be able to stop, and even though the restraint feels physically painful, I keep myself in check.

  But that doesn't mean I don't allow myself to drink in the sight of her, this gorgeous, crazy girl in my arms. My eyes trace down the slope of her nose to that insane mouth I need to possess all the way down the curve of her neck.

  I make quick work of it because something tells me the impatient, feisty little thing in my arms isn't going to let me get away with just looking my fill for too long.

  Almost on cue, her eyes blink open and I can see the surprise in them.

  I'd rather be doing that too, baby.

  Awareness lights in her eyes, and seconds later, she shoves hard against my chest. It's not enough to push me back, but it's enough to push her away from me.

  Instantly, my arms ache with emptiness.

  I want to pull her back into my embrace, but if the burning anger shooting blue sparks from her eyes is anything to go by, my attention is once again unwelcome.

  "That was a dick move," she accuses. She drags the back of her hand up and across her mouth as if she's trying to wipe the feeling away.

  I let her pull away and make no move to pull her back into my arms.

  "Your car isn’t working?"

  She's mute, but at least she shakes her head no.

  "Got jumper cables?"

  Her shoulder lifts in a shrug. I take it to mean she doesn't have the first clue as to what I'm talking about.

  I sigh heavily and move back to the squad car. I press the button to pop the trunk open and grab the set of cables all the squad cars are required to have before I get behind the wheel and drive my car up so that my front hood faces hers.

  She's silent, and I make quick work of popping both hoods and connecting the wires to the right charges.

  After the third try, I look over my shoulder. She's standing on the pavement, arms wrapped around her gorgeous body. One foot is closer to the ground than the other, and her lopsided height is the only thing that makes this girl look real, like she's of this world and she hasn't dropped straight from heaven into my lap.

  She bites her lip uncertainly after several moments of tense silence. "Well?"

  "I don't
think the problem is with the battery." My voice is sharper than I intend it to be, and I can see her withdraw even more.

  Shit. This is not going the way I wanted it to.

  And what way did you want it to go, asshole?

  I shake my head back and forth, needing to quiet the distracting voice that won't shut the fuck up.

  "You got Triple A?"

  Her perfect teeth sink into her lush bottom lip. "Is that like, the service you call when you have trouble?"

  I blink at her. This girl's dad is the chief of police? "Something like that," I grunt.

  "I think so, but I might have forgotten to renew my membership."

  I know I'm looking at her incredulously because she cries defensively, "It's not my fault. I never check my mail and once it started coming to me and not Mom and Dad's, I lost track."

  I close my eyes and shake my head before I let loose.

  "Are you dumb? Seriously Princess, are you stupid? You're alone out here on the road, it’s late at night and not safe, and you're shivering like the last leaf on a branch because you don't have a jacket and your car is broken down." My words are angry, but I can't help it. I'm pissed the fuck off, and she's a prime target right now…

  Angrily, I yank my jacket off before I toss it to her. "Cover yourself up.”

  Her eyes are expressive and beautiful, and this dawns on me once more as they follow this exact sequence:

  Astonishment.

  Fury.

  And…hurt?

  She doesn't catch my jacket, she lets it fall to the concrete before she lets loose. "You sanctimonious asshole. Are you serious, right now? This is my fault? I would be home right now if your quota hungry ass hadn't pulled me over!"

  I clench my teeth and fight for patience.

  I lose the fight. “Spare me the drama queen act. You were out here—alone and unprotected, and you're dressed like that. If you were mine, I’d spank your ass!“

  Apparently that's not a smart thing to say because her eyes go from blazing anger to white hot fury.

  “Spank my ass?” Her mouth drops open and she quickly closes it before continuing, “Dressed like what, Tarzan? What? Not only am I twenty-three years old, but this is the twenty-first fucking century, asshole. In case you didn't get the memo, that not only means I can vote, drive, and drink, but I can also wear whatever the fuck I want to wear!"

  I'm angry that she's put herself in a vulnerable position, but the way she’s carrying on right now makes me want to laugh too. Thankfully, this is lost on her because she continues to rant.

  "I can burn my bra if I want to, I can have sex with whomever I want to, and if I forget to renew my auto club membership, well I can damn well do that too!"

  She’s cute as hell, waving her arms in the air, and finally I can't help it.

  I crack up.

  She shoots me a furious look before stalking over to her car. I don’t even pay attention to what she’s doing because my eyes start cheerleading when she bends her luscious ass over. It’s stuck in the air while her torso is shoved into the car as she tries to find something.

  My heartbeat returns to a normal pace once she resumes standing. Oblivious to my body’s reaction to her, she starts punching at a small, silver rectangle in her hand.

  Thirty seconds later, a sharp, shrill scream rends through the silence, and her cell phone goes flying into the air. She bends her head back and a groan escapes, guttural and angry. "Mother fuck!"

  I've seen a lot in my profession.

  Despite this, I still stare at her in something close to shock when she's finished with her earth-shattering scream. She looks at me head-on, and smooths her hands over her sides before patting her hair into place.

  This chick is nuts.

  My hypothesis is further validated when she hobbles over to the hood of her car and starts yanking cables from the battery. She does the same to my squad car before slamming both hoods shut.

  A minute later, she's shoved the cables into my arms, and my jacket is now draped over her shoulders.

  I'm still standing there, staring at her, when she taps her one unbroken heel expectantly. "Well Officer Daniels, aren't you going to take me home?"

  Liz

  “Trust me Princess. My gun’s got nothing on what I’m packing between my legs.”

  His gritty words play on a continuous loop in my head while he navigates through the streets towards the apartment Sophie and I share at the edge of town. We’re both quiet although our silence is occasionally punctuated by rumblings from his dispatch radio.

  The ten minute drive does nothing to dampen my irritation or arousal.

  In fact, they both grow because with each second that ticks by, I become increasingly aware of our close proximity and his overwhelmingly masculine frame. The heady combination along with his clean, woodsy scent have my pheromones off partying like they’re filming Girls Gone Wild during Mardis Gras.

  Not to mention I was this close to turning into a complete psycho in front of him not even twenty minutes ago.

  Okay, well maybe I did turn a teeny-tiny bit psycho, but it’s not like any of it was my fault.

  I didn’t know David Breslin was a creepy geek before our first and last date tonight.

  I certainly didn’t pull myself over, and it’s definitely not my fault my phone died. The battery had been draining quickly for months now, and no matter how hard I argued with my cell phone provider, they were holding firm that I couldn’t upgrade for another two months.

  And I absolutely, positively did not encourage my body’s crazy response to this…man.

  Seriously, how much worse could tonight get?

  He pulls into an empty spot right in front of my apartment building.

  The exact spot where I normally park.

  For the first time since I got in the car, I turn to look him straight in the face.

  Big mistake. His eyes are bright with barely suppressed amusement, but there’s also something else there and I find myself helpless to turn away.

  Mind over body, Liz. This is what separates you from the wildebeest roaming the Serengeti.

  I clench my thighs together tightly and get straight to the point. “Are you stalking me?” I ask suspiciously.

  He relaxes back into his seat, far too casually for my liking. “What makes you ask that?” he asks easily.

  “You show up at my kickball game with my brother. You ‘happen’ to be handing out tickets when I drive by, and you just so ‘happen’ to know exactly where I live,” I point out, using air quotes as appropriate.

  This brings him out of his casual pose.

  No, nix that.

  His pose is still casual, but he leans toward me, closing the distance between us. My breathing slows and my wits might as well be scrambled eggs for all the good they’re doing me right now. My eyes hungrily soak up every inch of his masculine beauty as his face zooms into mine. The only reason I even notice his smirk is because when the corners of his mouth lift, my eyes travel to his firm, smooth lips. I immediately start imagining how they would feel on my skin…

  My body is captive, helpless to move away, but much to my disappointment that beautiful mouth stops mere inches from mine.

  “First of all, your brother—who I’ve known since I was a kid, invited me to join his team. It was just a coincidence that my first game was against you and your team. Second of all, you gave me your driver’s license which just so happens to include your address—which, with the exception of the unit number, happens to be my new address too.”

  Huh?

  He lives here too? It’s been a month he’s been in town. How could I not know that he lived in my complex? I feel the flush rise in my cheeks, but any thoughts I have are quickly forgotten because he moves even closer.

  “By the way,” he drawls casually, ” I don’t need to stalk my women,” he leans even closer. My mouth parts on a gasp as my brain tries to make sense of that he said he didn’t need to stalk his women.

  Does t
hat mean he considers me one of his women?

  I don’t even have time to comprehend the hot mess in my head because within the space of a second after his last word, his mouth covers mine.

  If I thought I was going to burn in the fires of hell for leering at him in church, he sure as hell is on a mission to make me go up in flames way before I’m ready to meet my maker.

  I remember him growing up, tall, lanky, and geeky. Even though he annoyed me, I’d always figured he’d grow up to be a nice, boring guy.

  But the way he takes my mouth right now is anything but nice or boring.

  It’s raw, filthy, dirty, and amazing.

  Somewhere in my consciousness, it crosses my mind that I shouldn't be doing this—that he shouldn't be doing this, but I'm helpless to resist as his tongue sweeps into the cavern of my mouth and takes over. He rubs gently against the roof of my mouth, and the gesture is deceptively gentle because he then seals his mouth to mine, and he…

  Plunders.

  Pillages.

  Conquers.

  There aren't any other words for me to describe what he's doing to me. It feels like every square millimeter of my mouth is quickly becoming intimately acquainted with the way he strokes, rubs, tastes...Endorphins rush so loudly through my veins, the only sound I hear is the white noise humming through my brain.

  When he pulls back abruptly, I'm confused.

  He's breathing fast, his gorgeous mouth slightly swollen from his takeover.

  Jesus Christ, he's beautiful. My thighs clench together while I bemoan the fact that he stopped. Hell, I'm so turned on, I probably would have given it up to him in his squad car.

  "You shouldn't have done that," I blurt out.

  I know I'm not kidding either one of us when my left eye twitches (my tell for lying), and he looks at me in amusement.

  His warm brown eyes have a touch of humor in them, but there's something else there...something intense and needy. I empathize with it because the same heady cocktail of feeling pounds relentlessly through my body at that very moment.

  Hard, unadulterated lust.

  "Tell me why I shouldn't have done it," he says huskily.