Chapter Nine
If drool wasn’t running down the chin of every man in the bar, Max would be surprised.
He wiped his own.
Max lifted the beer bottle to his lips, the cool liquid slithering down his throat. Unfortunately, it did nothing to lower his body temperature.
“Damn!” His brother swore next to him as he knocked Max with his elbow. “Have you hit that yet?”
Marc was staring at exactly what he was staring at—Amanda Barber in a short, short—very short—skirt bent over a pool table attempting to make a nearly impossible shot. The solid green ball went into the corner pocket. She hooted, shifted, then bent over the table again.
Max swore he could hear the reply of silent “hoots” from all the men there. All the bar stools were turned to face the pool table. Actually, he thought he heard some sighs and groans from along the crowded bar as the little red leather skirt eased its way up her thighs. Higher, higher…
For cripes sakes! He hoped she was at least wearing panties.
Someone stepped behind her, placed a hand on her hip, and leaned over her. Seemingly to give her some good advice. Shit. Like she needed advice; she had been doing well enough on her own. Everybody in the bar could see that!
Max slammed the now empty beer bottle on the bar behind him and let out a curse. Marc glanced at him sideways. The knowing look he got from his brother made him even more annoyed.
He watched as Amanda took the advice with a smile on her lips. She must have made a funny comment because the “helpful” man laughed—a little too loudly—in response.
Amanda missed the shot.
So much for the help.
Max watched Amanda tactfully slip away from the guy’s big, assertive paws.
Marc hastily rose from his stool to step in front of Max, effectively blocking his view. “Brother, don’t do anything stupid. You have been drinking, and the last think you want is to lose your job.” Marc waited until his brother looked at him. Not without obvious impatience. “And you…we are the law in this town. We must lead by example, not get into bar fights. It’s not worth it.”
Max grunted in response as he snagged the fresh beer the bartender slid in front of him. He pushed around his brother and stepped over to the pool table. Amanda was leaning on her pool stick, watching her new acquaintance take a shot.
“Who’s your friend?”
Amanda lifted her shoulders slightly. She looked over at her opponent sideways. “What was your name?”
A hurt expression flashed over the guy’s features before he answered, “Jack.”
Amanda turned back to Max and repeated, “Jack.”
“Known him long?”
“Oh, about”—she glanced at the neon-trimmed Budweiser clock that hung above the bar—“an hour?”
Max turned his attention to Jack. “Where ya from, Jack?”
“Parsington.”
“Parsington?” No wonder he didn’t know the guy. He knew everyone in town; that was his job. “What are you doing here?”
Jack slowly and carefully laid the cue stick on the table and turned to give Max his full concentration. “Last thing I heard was this here was a free country.”
Max leaned close to Jack, getting in his face. “Listen, Jack—”
An abrupt clearing of a throat made him realize he was royally fucking up right now. He straightened and backed up a step. But he kept his eyes narrowed and focused on the man in front of him.
Jack put his palms up in front of his chest and backed up a step. “Hey, I haven’t done anything wrong. It is perfectly legal to have a drink with a pretty lady.”
Amanda stepped between them, glaring at Max. “You’re right, Jack. It isn’t illegal to have a drink with a woman—and thank you for the compliment.” She gave the other man a big smile. Then turned back to Max.
“Can I have a word with you?” When Max hesitated, she added firmly, “Like right now?” She tilted her head toward a quiet corner in the dimly lit bar.
When she walked away, Max had no doubt that he was to follow her. No matter what. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
He watched her tight, supple ass sway in that short skirt as she walked with determination. And he was sure he wasn’t the only one appreciating the view. He didn’t even want to turn his head to confirm it. He was trying to control his temper enough already.
In a darkened corner of the room, she leaned against the old wood paneling and crossed her arms over her chest to face him. “So—”
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were going out tonight?”
Her eyebrows almost rose to her hairline before they dropped and her lips pressed flat.
He was on thin ice. But never before had he been so possessive of a woman he’d only slept with once. Once!
Why? What was it about this little slip of a woman that made him want to throw her over his shoulder, beat feet out of this bar, and take her home to throw her on his bed?
He wanted to fuck her on a real bed. Not in the backseat of a car. Not in his truck. But a bed where he could spread her out and do to her what needed to be done, so—
“Remember what you told me? We were supposed to be keeping this on the DL so your mommy didn’t find out?”
Did he say that? Damn. “Yeah, but…”
“Nothing serious, right?”
Max bounced his fist off his forehead and frowned. “Right.”
“So now you want me to check in with you before I go out?” Her brows shot up.
Yes. Yes, I need to know where you are at all times and with whom. Damn it. “No.”
She nodded her head. “Good, because it would be a damn shame to have someone want to control my life in all aspects, wouldn’t it?”
Max brushed his fingers over his short hair. She was playing him. She was throwing his words back at him, being a complete smart-ass. And enjoying every second.
But it didn’t matter that she might not have come here to the bar with him tonight; she was damn sure going to end up in his bed tonight and not with someone like Jack Parsington. Not if he had anything to say about it.
Without waiting for an answer, she pushed herself away from the wall and approached Marc at the bar. His brother was shaking his head and chuckling. She paused in front of Marc.
“You tell your brother he needs to be at my house in ten minutes or I’m not letting him in.”
Max sighed as she headed out of the bar, tossing back her hair. Marc yelled out to her, “Happy New Year!” with a bark of laughter.
To Max, he asked, “What are you waiting for, fool?”
* * * *
Amanda quietly opened the front door; she didn’t want to wake Greg. She placed the car keys on the table as she walked into the room. She dug out some cash before throwing her purse into the nearby brown recliner and kicking off her heels.
Greg’s sitter was nodding off in front of the television in the sunroom. With a gentle shake, Amanda woke Joni and saw the girl to the door, giving her the money and her thanks. She shut the door and leaned against it, letting out a ragged breath.
Okay, the man was hot, and there was definitely attraction—at least sexually—between them, but he was a bossy cop who couldn’t mind his own damn business. She didn’t think casual sex was his thing. He seemed way too possessive for that.
A slight tap on the door startled her. She peeked through the curtain covering the door’s window. He’d come.
She stilled. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea that she’d invited him over. She could pretend she hadn’t heard it and just go to bed. Or she could…
“Amanda, I see you standing there,” she heard muffled through the door. Well, she could still ignore him and go to bed. Just because he was a cop didn’t mean he could enter her house whenever he wanted. He would need some sort of search warrant. Wouldn’t he?
Oh hell. He had entered this house plenty of times before without asking.
The door handle jiggled. “Amanda,” he called in a fierce whisper. “Come on, let me in.”
“Why should I?” She stepped over to the door, shifting the curtain aside to look out at him. Yes, he definitely was hot. Shit.
“Because you invited me.”
Oh yeah. There was that.
“It didn’t take you long.” She opened the door before she could stop herself, and he walked in, filling the room with the scent of his maleness.
“You said ten minutes, and I didn’t want you to change your mind.”
But at that moment her need to put him in his place was stronger than her desire. “I was having an innocent game of pool. As if it was any of your business. What gives you the right to interfere with my night out? I was trying to have some fun in this disgustingly dull town.”
Max scrubbed a hand over his prickly short hair, his irritation clearly showing on his face.
“That was hardly innocent. Your business was hanging out of that short skirt of yours.” He eyed the skirt, sending a wave of heat through her.
Amanda pursed her lips and planted a hand on her hip. “Maybe I was. Maybe I wanted to take Jack home and have hot, furious, sweaty sex with him. You know, like a casual wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am type of thing.”
Max paused, and Amanda watched his Adam’s apple bounce a couple times before he blurted, “Well, if you’re looking for volunteers…”
“Are you applying?”
“Maybe.” Max grabbed her arm to pull her close. “Damn, you’re really hot when you’re angry.”
Amanda pulled away from him and went over to the nearby secretary’s desk. She grabbed a sheet of notepaper and a pen. She shoved them into his chest.
“Here, fill out an application. I’ll call you when I’m interviewing.” She turned sharply, heading into the kitchen. He followed her and tossed the pen and paper onto the kitchen table. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter.
“Amanda…”
Amanda raised one hand to stop him from nearing. She needed to set some ground rules first. “You’re not my keeper.”
“I know.”
“I’m not your business.”
He paused, slightly longer than he should have, before answering. “I know.”
“You’re only agreeing with me to appease me.” If he answered her with an I know again, she was going to kick him where it hurt.
Amanda headed toward the sunroom.
“That’s right, walk away like the little girl that you are.”
Amanda stopped in her tracks.
That son of a bitch! She spun and headed right back to him. She stood five-three looking up at his six-two.
With a muttered curse, she reached up, grabbed his shirt collar, and pulled his head to her. As her lips raked his, she could feel his surprise. His mouth parted, allowing her to shove her tongue between his lips.
Their tongues mated and fought; he angled his head to get even closer. His hands came up to grab her hips. Flushed and out of breath, Amanda stepped back with a calculated look. She unbuttoned her ivory blouse. Slowly. Releasing one shiny button from its prison, then another. Until her blouse hung open, exposing her tan, tight abdomen and her gold belly ring. His eyes raked her black, lacy bra and the rounded flesh above it. Her nipples hardened. Her breath caught.
Amanda slipped the smooth fabric over her shoulders, and with a shrug her blouse slid to the floor.
She reached up to touch the front clasp that barely kept her breasts in check.
“Amanda,” he warned again, but could only manage to suck in a breath when her fingers released the clasp and her full breasts escaped. “Jesus!”
“So, Officer Bryson, am”—her voice caught—“am I a little girl?”
Max’s eyes gleamed darkly as he raised them from her chest to her face. His jaw clenched and unclenched. “No.” His nostrils flared as if he were fighting a demon inside. “Hell, no.”
With a throaty laugh, she pulled off the bra, dropping it to the floor with her discarded blouse. Lifting a hand to her throat, she trailed a finger down her chest to circle one of her painfully hard nipples. She crossed over to circle the other one. She bit her lip and threw her head back, her eyelids lowered. Amanda’s breathing deepened as she slid her hand over her flat belly and circled a red fingernail around her gold belly ring. Then she went lower.
Max was still. So still. Too still. She wanted him. Wanted him to take her. Here. Now. Why wasn’t he moving?
“Fuck,” she groaned. Continuing a path downward, she popped open the snap on her skirt; then the slide of the zipper sounded deafening.
She flicked her tongue over parted lips, leaving a trail of moisture. She was panting ever so slightly.
Max’s eyes had followed every move. He had been glued in place. Until now…
He grabbed her by the waist, lifted her up, turned around, and practically tossed her onto the counter. Grabbing her waistband, he ripped her skirt down over her hips, taking her thong underwear with it in one handful.
Amanda said nothing. Their words always seemed to ruin the moment. She didn’t want that. She wanted his body against hers, his weight crushing her, his lips on every part of her. She needed his tongue to dip into every crevice.
She wanted to scream a mindless scream as she orgasmed over and over.
And she wasn’t disappointed.
One second he was looming above her, and in the next, he was down on his knees, spreading her thighs, looking closer.
Then he took her in his mouth. He flicked her clit with his tongue once, twice, before stroking it. Amanda dropped her head back against the cabinet and let out a low wail. She blindly reached for him, grabbing the back of his head, pulling him closer, if that was possible.
His fingers separated her heat, stroking along with his tongue, tasting, nipping. Just teasing, teasing until her inner muscles clenched with need.
He dipped his tongue into her, torturing her. He was torturing her! His fingers replaced his tongue, thrusting deep as his lips captured her clit once more. He suckled as his fingers found a rhythm.
She forced herself to swallow her scream; she didn’t want to wake Greg. She didn’t want him wandering downstairs to find his sister spread-eagle on the counter while the local cop was treating her like a smorgasbord.
Her thoughts evaporated as his thumb replaced his mouth on her clit and he stood. But his lips clamped on her nipple and his free hand found her other breast. He pinched her nipple, twisted it enough to make her arch her back. His teeth scraped the other over and over; then his tongue would soothe away the sting.
She let out a soft gasp, then a low wail as she felt the orgasm start. Her muscles exploded into furious contractions around his fingers. Max stiffened and paused. He lifted his head and looked at her.
“Holy shit,” was all he said before he took her mouth, plundering her, thrusting his fingers in her, starting the pleasure all over again. She tasted herself on his lips and she almost came again, but he pulled away.
In what seemed like a split second, Max was standing naked before her. Beautiful. A dark stud. His cock was so hard, so erect it looked almost agonizing. The head held a pearly drop of precum. She wanted to lick it off.
She pulled her gaze away to meet his; his eyes pinned her with intensity. So intense she felt a flicker of fear, but it was washed away when he grabbed her hips and thrust deep into her, filling her up, stretching her.
Her gasp made him pause, his chest rising and falling rapidly. She thrust her hips against him, wanting more, wanting him deeper and harder, but he held her still. “Don’t. Don’t move…just for a second.” Then he gritted his teeth and thrust deeply again and again.
She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. She met each thrust with a thrust of her own. She ground herself against him, wanting every inch of his cock.
His arms were planted on either side of her on the counter, shaking. He was struggling with his own control. He kissed her again, his tongue briefly tangling with hers before he had to pull away, to catch his breath. His jaw tightened as his hips tilted with each thrust. He pounded her hard. He wanted this. She wanted this. There was no need to get romantic. No frills. Just want. Just need.
She arched her back, and as she came again, she sank her teeth into his shoulder to control her screams.
A bead of sweat rolled off him to mingle with hers. He reached up and grabbed her hair, pulling it back roughly, exposing her neck to him. And he sank his teeth into her throat, not breaking skin but hard enough to make her shudder and her pussy muscles tightened on him even more.
She moaned—she had no idea what. Nor did she care because he tensed and was coming deep within her. Her body pumped him dry. He collapsed on her, his face buried into her neck.
Their breathing was fast and deep, his heart pounding against her.
Max pulled his hands from beneath her and intertwined his fingers with hers. He still had her pinned on the countertop. He brushed a light kiss against her neck where his head laid.
Amanda couldn’t move. Not that she wanted to. He was still inside her, stretching her. She didn’t want to lose that closeness. At least, not yet.
Besides interlocking their hands, Max had hardly moved either. Then he lifted his head to look deep into her eyes. She wanted him to say something profound. That he loved her. That he couldn’t live without her. Anything!
“Holy shit.” He brushed his lips lightly over hers. “That was un-fucking-believable.”
Well, maybe not anything. Even though he wasn’t the only one that wanted casual sex, why did it bother her when he acted as such? As Amanda squirmed, he withdrew and stood. He held out a hand and pulled her up. She sat on the counter, naked as a newborn, looking at the man she’d just given herself to.
“Yeah, that was un-fucking-believable,” she mimicked.
Max brushed her wild, damp auburn curls out of her face and tucked them behind her ear. He ran a thumb along her jawline and then planted another kiss on her lips.
All of a sudden the kitchen lights seemed glaringly harsh to Amanda. She quickly became self-conscious. Well, she should. She was sitting buck naked on the kitchen counter just having had wild sex with a cop.
Damn. She pushed herself off the smooth counter and gathered her clothes. She made a mental note to bleach the counter in the morning.
Hell, she should just have them replaced.
“Amanda, will you go out with me?”
She stopped dead and gave him an incredulous look. “What?”
He was getting dressed and had just buttoned his jeans. His bare chest was still damp. Dark hair circled his navel and disappeared deep into the denim. He looked so edible.
Damn. Quit it. That’s what had gotten her in trouble in the first place.
“Seriously, I want to take you out.” Max bent over to pick up his shirt. “Like on a date.”
Wait. Now he was asking her on a date. So…this wasn’t as casual as either of them had planned?
A real date. Like out in public? To hell with his mother finding out.
She pursed her lips and squinted. Was it her that was confused or was it him?
Ah fuck. Did she even really care at this moment?
The flexing of his bicep with the Marine Semper Fi tattoo caught her attention as he slipped into his shirt. Once it was hidden from view, she responded, “I don’t know if I can trust you on a date. You might try to take advantage of me.”
Max let out a low chuckle, making Amanda’s heart skip a beat. One of Greg’s favorite words popped into her head—yummy. Max was so yummy.
“Look, bring Greg along. We’ll have fun.” He grabbed her hips and held her close. Max dropped his head to hers and placed a kiss on her lips. He deepened it before letting her go. “I’ll pick you and Greg up tomorrow night. Say yes.”
No no no.
“Yes.”