Any Day Now Page 4

  “Yes.” Avery grinned. “The more flesh, the better, at least when it comes to him. You can leave your clothes on. I don’t think the women are going to pay anywhere near as much attention to you.”

  I rolled my eyes and stepped back. “To the bedroom?”

  “Yeah,” Avery said. “Now, go back to being all alpha male and stuff.”

  I took that to mean I should go back to forcing Amelia to lick my fingers clean.

  I didn’t know what it was about her that was making me turn into this desperate man, but it was getting to the point where I didn’t want to ignore the urges.

  So I didn’t.

  Walking back toward her, I hooked one arm around her hip, bent slightly at the waist, and practically threw her over my shoulder.

  She shrieked in laughter, her hands going to my waist as she scrabbled for purchase, and I took her into the bedroom.

  I could hear Avery’s camera clicking away, but I expertly ignored the sound and did what I wanted to do.

  Tossing Amelia down onto the bed, I watched her bounce as I slowly stripped the shirt from my body.

  Seconds later, I propped my foot on the side of the bed and unlaced my boots before kicking those to the side, too.

  My socks were the last thing to go, and the entire time, Amelia’s eyes stayed firmly locked on me.

  She took me in, watching my every move, and with each article of clothing that was lost, her breath would start coming in heavier and faster.

  I could feel my dick hardening even more with each moment that passed, and I wondered if Avery was good at photoshopping hard dicks out of photos, because there was no hiding mine.

  Not when it came to Amelia.

  God, her breasts were heaving, and I could see the outline of her nipples through the bra and the tank that she was wearing.

  There were goosebumps on her skin as well, giving away the fact that she was aroused.

  Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and the way she kept licking her lips would be my undoing.

  I stalked to the bed, climbing up on top of it.

  “Damn, this is a big bed,” I muttered as I crawled up the length of Amelia’s prone body.

  She swallowed hard. “Soft, too.”

  Instead of feeling the sheets, I ran my hand along the length of hair that was spread out alongside the silk sheets and pillows.

  “Your hair feels like the sheets,” I said as I gently smoothed my fingers over her hair.

  “I washed it today,” she smiled then. “You’re welcome.”

  I snorted and drew one curly tendril around my finger and twirled it, causing it to become an even better corkscrew curl before letting it fall from my finger.

  “You smell good,” I murmured, my eyes moving to the rise and fall of Amelia’s chest. “Like sugar cookies.”

  She blinked. “I think it’s my deodorant and the body scrub I used today. I didn’t put any perfume on. Men are weird about perfume.”

  I didn’t know if they were or weren’t.

  I wasn’t, at least I didn’t think I was.

  But whatever Amelia had on was driving me wild.

  “Interesting,” I said as I ran my finger—one of the ones she licked clean—down the length of her throat. “Tell me, Amelia. Do you have a man?”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I had a man.”

  No, I didn’t think she would.

  Also, after I was done with her, she wouldn’t have been able to keep that man, anyway.

  Not with the feelings she was evoking.

  I’d been single for a year now. I’d had three steady girlfriends, all of which never sparked the kind of need that Amelia was sparking in me now. What was sad was that Amelia had done nothing but suck my fucking finger into her mouth. Yet, all of my other girlfriends had given me a whole lot more than that.

  Amelia lifted her hand and circled her way around my heart, her fingers skimming the lines of my Air Force tattoo that I had on my left pectoral.

  “Air Force?” she guessed.

  I nodded, nerve endings firing every which way with each caress of her finger.

  “Nice,” she said. “I got a tattoo when I was fifteen. Haven’t gotten once since.”

  My brows rose. “You didn’t like it?”

  She shrugged. “I liked it. Just… haven’t found another one that I want to get.”

  My gaze traveled from her face down to her throat where I could see her pulse racing away.

  I bent down and allowed my lips to skim across that racing pulse, growling softly at the sweet taste of her skin.

  Her fingers clenched on my biceps, her tiny little nails digging in quick before releasing.

  “You smell like a Christmas tree,” she murmured.

  I grinned and pulled back. “Pine?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s my body wash. My mom bought it for me.” I paused. “I think it smells like shit, but I don’t like to waste stuff.”

  Her hands smoothed up the length of my arms, coming to a stop on the tops of my shoulders as she said, “I like it. Don’t throw it away.”

  My eyes flicked up to meet hers again, and I wanted to kiss her so fuckin’ bad that it hurt.

  “I think…” Avery said, snapping us both out of whatever it was that was going on between us. “I’ve got plenty. Thank you guys so freakin’ much.”

  I groaned and pulled away, thankful that the way I was sitting meant that my cock couldn’t be seen. Because it’d get really fuckin’ awkward if they could see how hard it was at that moment.

  I pulled away even more, crawling backward off of the bed.

  Amelia turned over onto her hands and knees and crawled off the opposite side, and I got my first peek of her tattoo—swirling colors of brilliant shades of red and orange—before she tugged her shirt back into place.

  I nearly groaned at the loss of the skin.

  Standing, I reached for my shirt that was on the floor and shrugged it back on.

  Seconds later I was pulling on my socks.

  All the while I was very, very much aware of the girl shifting from foot to foot just a few short feet from me.

  But, fuckin’ of course, my goddamn phone went off.

  “Fuck,” I growled under my breath.

  Moving my hand to my pocket, I removed my phone and swiped the screen, rolling my eyes heavenward when I got a good look at the call.

  “What is it?” Avery asked curiously.

  “Couple of dudes fighting over a drug stash.” I shook my head and replaced my phone before hurriedly finishing getting dressed. “Thanks for the donuts, Avery.”

  Avery waved away my thanks.

  “Thank you for doing this,” she said as she wiggled her camera at me. “It means so much. I know it wasn’t easy.”

  Actually, it was by far the easiest thing I’d ever done.

  My eyes catching onto Amelia, I gave her a wink, then without another word, left.

  Because, sadly, the world of crime didn’t give a fuck that I was attracted as fuck to the woman and hadn’t gotten her number.

  But I wouldn’t let that bother me.

  I had the day off on Monday, and plenty of time to bother Avery for a certain someone’s phone number and last name.

  With one last lingering look at the woman that had just rocked my world, I took off.

  Not once looking back.

  Chapter 5

  Kinda sexy how you put those cuffs on me. Will I need a safe word?

  -Amelia to her arresting officer

  Amelia

  “Just come over here and let me give you a hug,” the prick with the fat wallet, oversized ego, and sleazy attitude cooed at me from across the bar.

  I ignored him and filled another customer’s order, followed shortly by a waitress with a table of about fifteen there for a bachelor party.

  Only when I had nothing else to do did I see if Rogan Germain needed anything else from me.

  “Do you need a top-off?” I asked, gesturing to his drink.

  When Rogan came into the strip club, he always ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, then proceeded to throw his money around as if that would impress me.

  It didn’t.

  In fact, all it did was gross me out.

  Because some of the women that worked at the club were desperate and Rogan damn well knew it.

  Sometimes all he asked for was a hug, and then he’d tip a hundred bucks.

  Others, he’d ask for a smile.

  Or a kiss on the cheek.

  I wasn’t sure if the others were falling for it or not, but I sure the fuck wasn’t.

  My daddy taught me better than that.

  “How about you come take a seat on my lap?” he suggested. “Take a bit of a break.”

  I clenched my teeth and went back to wiping down the bar, followed shortly by rearranging glasses, restocking beer, and then anything else I could do to ignore the man that kept his eyes on me like he owned me.

  I fought the full-body shiver that went through me and was just about to walk up to a newcomer at the end of the bar when chaos erupted at the bachelor party across the room.

  Chaos that quickly spread when about fifteen ladies came into the room, all of them throwing fits.

  The men that Rogan had come in with, two people that looked important but didn’t throw their importance around like young Rogan did, maneuvered to flank Rogan.

  Which was when I realized that they were his bodyguards.

  They stood in front and to the side of him protectively, as if they were just waiting for danger to come his way.

  Who the hell was Rogan Germain?

  He’d actually talked about himself once, and I’d started to listen, but there was only so much self-absorbed arrogance I could take. I’d zoned out and started reciting my notes in my head.

  Ignoring the man and his obvious bodyguards, I walked to the end of the bar and watched as the women fought the men. Like, full out, no holds barred, fought them. There were kicks, punches, lunges, ducks. Seriously, I’d never seen anything more entertaining in my life.

  And only when the officers started to swarm the room did things start to calm down enough for me to realize that Rogan was standing incredibly close to me, and it was seriously creeping me out.

  I stepped away, right into the path of his bodyguard.

  The bodyguard didn’t move, but I could tell that he was doing his best to keep me from moving away from Rogan without being too obvious about it.

  “Excuse me,” I said through clenched teeth, trying to get around them.

  Rogan shifted closer. The bodyguard shifted sideways, blocking my path.

  Which then pissed me off.

  “Get back,” I ordered as fiercely as I could.

  Rogan laughed, his chilling voice skating like a cold finger down my spine.

  “You’re smaller than I imagined you’d be,” Rogan said, reaching for my hair.

  I jerked myself back, snarled, and did what my daddy taught me to do when I felt threatened.

  I fought back.

  Snapping my fist back before either bodyguard could react, I launched it forward and aimed it directly for Rogan’s perfectly straight, aristocratic nose.

  It hit with a satisfying crunch.

  Seconds later I found myself on the ground with two hundred and fifty pounds of man muscle on top of me, restraining me.

  But I wasn’t fighting.

  I was laughing.

  Why? Because Rogan was whining like a little girl.

  The bodyguard’s hands tightened on my arms to the point of pain, and I reared back and slammed the back of my head into the man’s nose, too.

  Before the second bodyguard could reach for me, I was on my feet and yanking my leg back to land a solid kick to the bodyguard’s face.

  The steel in my steel-toed boots hit the bodyguard’s temple, and he passed out.

  Bodyguard two reached for me just as a second pair of hands did, too.

  Only, I didn’t struggle when the strong, muscular arm reached around me and pulled me tight to his body.

  Because I was very, very familiar with the tattoo on the fingers. Most particularly because I’d had those fingers in my mouth when I was sucking off icing from a couple of donuts.

  I went limp.

  All the fight went out of me.

  “No struggling for me?” he asked, the rasp of his voice making my heart sing.

  I licked my lips.

  “No.”

  One simple word, but the meaning was clear.

  I would never struggle when it came to this man.

  He squeezed me tight, his arm slipping away from me to be replaced by his hand as he pressed me back into him.

  “What happened?” he asked curiously.

  I licked my lips, then gestured to the asshole who’d all but cornered me with his two bodyguards.

  “They wouldn’t let me go,” I said simply.

  Adam made a sound in the back of his throat and I felt my nipples tighten.

  “So she goes for the help?” Rogan muttered, his voice thick with the sound of blood filling his nose. “And not me?”

  I shot him a disgusted look.

  “We’re pressing charges,” Rogan mumbled, his hand covering his bloody nose. “I want her fired. And taken into custody.”

  Lynn, who’d appeared at some point during the fight and didn’t look impressed at all, looked over at me. “Go.”

  “I have proof, and over thirty witnesses to her attack on me,” Rogan continued as if I was fighting the charges that he was leveling at me. “She seriously could’ve hurt my bodyguard. Might have!”

  I looked over at the bodyguard who was holding his head and glaring at me.

  I wiggled my fingers at him, making sure to show him what I didn’t think of him with one look, and smiled.

  He narrowed his eyes but didn’t make any moves toward me, and I had a feeling that had a lot to do with the scary man at my back.

  Fifteen minutes later, once order was established, about fifteen witnesses said that I was the instigator in the fight, I found myself walking out of my place of work in handcuffs.

  Handcuffs that Adam hadn’t put on me, but another rookie officer.

  Upon breaching the exit of the club, I instantly spotted Adam in the crowd. He was talking to someone that looked official. The moment he saw me, though, he broke off and came my way.

  “I got her, Simmy,” Adam said.

  The rookie officer that looked no older than twenty-one nodded his head and went back into the building to get another arrestee, leaving me with Adam.

  “I had no other choice.”

  I know that he didn’t.

  I mean, I was the one to punch the man in the face in front of all of those people.

  I knew what I was doing when I did that.

  “I’m not saying that you did.” I shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that, so he chose silence as he led me to his cruiser.

  The moment we got close, I spoke up, trying to hide the way his closeness was making me feel.

  “Can you, maybe, put me up front with you? I swear that I won’t try to like, steal your car or anything,” I promised, hoping that he would give me that.

  The idea of getting in the back of his police cruiser with all that nastiness on his seats from the other people he arrested was really quite debilitating for me.

  I mean, seriously, when I washed my hands in the bathroom, I used a paper towel to open the door. I wiped down my buggy with about eight disinfectant wipes, and I carried a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer with me everywhere I went just to make sure that I could wash my hands after I touched something that other people touched.

  His back seat was likely filled to the brim with germs.

  “That’s fine,” he rumbled, sounding amused. “But they make us clean it out once a night. And nobody has been in there tonight. It’s clean.”

  “How do I know?” I asked. “When you say ‘clean it out’ what do you mean? Like, you vacuum it out? Or what?”

  “Vacuum if we need to. Disinfect the seats. Shit like that,” he answered as he opened the passenger side door of his cruiser for me.

  I looked at the long jump up into the SUV, then at him, then at me with my arms loosely handcuffed behind my back.

  He uncuffed me, but before I could help myself into the seat, he had his hands on me and was putting me there before I could say another word.

  Then he had my hands cuffed again, this time in front of me instead of behind.

  I licked my lips at the way he made me feel.

  God, my breasts were tight, my nipples were hard, and my clit was tingling in anticipation.

  Sadly, the trip to the station wasn’t filled with banter. It was filled with Adam talking on the phone to his superior about what happened, training tomorrow, and something else about a team-building exercise that they had next week.

  When we arrived at the station, it was to find the entire place in chaos.

  There were pissed off men everywhere that looked as if they’d been beaten to hell and back—the ones from the club—and the women that’d done the beating not far away.

  Adam led me to a small desk to the side of the room and leveled the man behind it with a look. “Need to process her, Dornet.”

  Dornet looked at me, then at Adam, then back to me.

  Before he could say anything, the mic at Adam’s neck went off.

  “All units be advised, we have a man from the jail that escaped. Five-foot-nine white male. One hundred and eighty pounds. Last seen on Booker Street.”

  “Fuck,” Adam said.

  That one word was said so deep and raspy-like that it made my clit do things that should’ve been impossible.

  “Be good to her, Dornet,” Adam ordered. “Gotta go.”

  I looked over my shoulder at Adam.

  He leveled me with one look that said ‘behave’ and I couldn’t help the small smile that graced my lips.

  Batting my eyes at him, I watched the grin cross his face as he walked backward out the door.

  Only when the door closed between us did he turn and start jogging down the steps toward his cruiser again.