The cop’s jacket envelops me in his warmth. It smells like clean soap and a subtle, masculine deodorant, and the scent has me irrationally hot. For such a thin coat, it warms me straight through, even though my legs are still bare and exposed. My feet feel like sponges in my ruined boots, and I wonder how much he values his car. Maybe I can kick them off and dry them. As though reading my thoughts, he glances down at my feet.

“It can’t be good for you to have those wet boots on like that.”

“Do you mind?” I ask, reaching down to remove them.

He shakes his head. “Go for it.”

I’m grateful for that comment.

I slide my waterlogged boots off and air out my wrinkled-prune toes. I wiggle them to dry them out faster, and I turn to look at my driver.

I don’t even know his name. Ben, was it? I need to be more involved with this town. When I came in and started looking for a place to plant some roots, looking into the local law enforcement wasn’t exactly on the docket.

“I don’t know your full name,” I say. No use in beating around the bush about it.

His perfectly curved lips turns up at the corner in a sexy smirk, and my panties go wetter than my damp dress.

Shit.

He is a perfect male specimen. He’s rocking an Edelman haircut, with a long center section of hair combed off to the side, buzzed on either side like a classier Mohawk. It’s a cut that got popular after a famous football player wore it, so it’s a little contrived, but damn, it suits him.

I couldn’t help but notice that even under the florescent lights of the sheriff’s department, he has a perfect complexion. His eyes are like sapphires, especially when he gives that hard glare.

Good God, I want him.

I’m surprised by this.

My last relationship ended… Well, it ended. A lot of things.

I have no need for another bad boy asshole in my life. I don’t care if he’s a cop. In my mind, that’s worse. A bad boy cop combines the two things I should absolutely not be lusting after—my kryptonite.

He continues smiling at me, and my pussy doesn’t care about my complaints one bit.

“Ben Warburton. Sheriff. At your service.”

He gives a sarcastic little bow, twirling his hand in the air. The gesture brings attention to the tattoos on his arms, which are more visible without his jacket on.

“I’ve never known a sheriff to be as inked as that,” I say, gesturing to his arms.

He glances down and shrugs, his eyes focusing back on the road. “How many sheriffs have you known?” he counters, and I frown.

Is he foraging for information, under the guise of chivalry? He’s clearly already tried the bad cop act. Is he switching tactics and going good cop now, trying to get info out of me by being nice?

There’s nothing to get out of me. He’ll have a hard time if he thinks that’s going to happen.

I stare out of the window, purposefully not answering his question. I’ve made a mistake by accepting his offer of a ride home. Men like this are my fatal flaw. I always fall for the hot, tatted dudes, and they always let me down.

Or destroy my entire life.

The alternative is walking home alone, in the dark, after having had a gun pointed at my face. I couldn’t stomach it. It was the only reason I agreed. I don’t want to be alone right now. Not after that.

Ben thinks I’m a suspect, but he’s the only person around, and he was willing to help.

My mind flushes with memory of that moment. It’s already fuzzy. I can’t remember the color of the man’s eyes, his figure. I wish I could. Then I could at least try and help Ben catch that asshole and bring him to justice.

My camera still dangles from my neck, soaked and ruined. I lift it up and a sprinkle of water drips out of the bottom.

Great.

I may have started a business in town, but I’m not exactly raking in the riches yet. I’m already in a position where I’ll have to survive until the next tourist season with a bunch of locals who stick to their own. Until I can bring in some more cash, I’ll have to express my creative energy some other way. I already miss my camera.

“Where do I turn?” Ben asks, bringing me out of my reverie.

I give him directions toward the oceanfront, not far from where I was when he found me. It would have been such a nice, fast walk home.

Ah, well. Apparently, Ben felt the need to flex the muscular arms of justice. The sexy, thick, strong arms of justice. Arms I’d like to have wrapped around me, lifting me against a wall, holding me while he…

I clear my throat.

My feet have dried, and they feel better by the time he pulls onto my street, which winds along the rock-strewn coast. I point him in the direction of my little seaside cottage, and he pulls into the small parking lot along the side.

“This is a restaurant,” he says, staring up at the wooden lobster sign.

“Wow. Not only are you a cop, but your powers of deduction are top-notch. Did you land that job because of how observant you are?”

“Are you always this sassy?”

“Are you always arresting innocent women?”

“No. You would be the first. And there’s no guarantee that you’re innocent.”

“Back to that old chestnut, are we? Well, I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure knowing you, but I don’t want to lie.”

I’m pushing him away on purpose. I don’t want to like him. I don’t want to want him as much as I do. I can’t help myself. My body reacts to his scent, to his face. He is everything I’m attracted to in a man, and I can’t stand that. I need to get away. I need space.

I open the passenger side door, and to my dismay, he opens his door as well.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m walking you to your door.”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough tonight?” I ask.

“Humor me. It’s my job to keep this town safe.”

“So, are you keeping me safe, or are you keeping the town safe from me by making sure I lock myself in an enclosed space?”

He lets out a low laugh. “We’ll find out, I guess, won’t we? Why do you live in a restaurant?”

“I own the joint.”

He lifts a perfect eyebrow at me, and my heart flutters. We fall in step as we walk up the stone path to the side door that is my apartment, directly next to my little seafood joint.

“I’ve never heard of this place,” he says.

It’s my turn to lift a critical brow. “For the sheriff, you’re pretty ignorant about what goes on in your own town.”

“I’ve only been in this position for a short time. Before that, well. It wasn’t necessarily my job to keep tabs on every little thing that happens here and I didn’t go out much. Or anywhere.”

I shrug and hold back a smile—I love how strong he is, how confident. Ugh, kryptonite! “Whatever. Can you admit you suck at your job?”

“Why don’t you let me taste some of your food, and then I can tell you that you suck at yours.” He shoots a grin right back at me.

“Mm, that’s impossible, because anything I make you’d slurp up and love it.”

We’re at my door now, and I turn to look up at him in the dark.

My body is on fire, being this close to him. I want to hate him. I want to slam the door in his stupid face and never see that dumb handsome expression ever again. Instead, I’m rooted to the spot, barely able to breathe.

This man accused me of being a thief. He shoved me into the back of a cop car and questioned me, even when I told him I was innocent. None of that seems to matter, because standing near him has my whole body tingling with desire.

Fuck.

“Well, it’s been real,” I say, and I reach for my keys, which are attached to my camera. My arm brushes against him. I tilt my head up, and his eyes are hooded and heavy. Is this really happening?

I should stop it. I should walk away.

He dips his head, his fingers gripping my chin as he presses his lips against mine, and all rational thought dissolves.

My arms wrap around his broad shoulders. I press my body against him, craving his warmth through my damp clothing. I carried my boots in my hand, and I notice absently that they have dropped to the ground. My toes curl against the pavement.

He deepens his kiss, delving his tongue into my mouth. He explores me.

I meet him there, crash my tongue against his.

He wraps his arms around my lower back and grabs my ass, pressing me against the wall. We’re perfectly enclosed in my front entryway, given the perfect amount of privacy as he massages my ass with his hands, his fingers inching closer to my slit. My dress slides up my thighs, exposing my soaked thong. His fingers pull the string from my ass, and he moves the tiny piece of fabric aside.

My pussy is dripping wet.

His hard cock presses against my opening, enters, fills me. How did he get his pants off so fast? We’re not even in my house yet, and he’s fucking me against the porch wall. It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever done in my life.

“Oh, god, yes,” I moan.

“You like that?” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear.

I nod, unable to speak. His dick slides along the slick walls of my cunt.

“Then get ready. Because I’m going to fuck you harder than you’ve ever been fucked in your life.”