Leah

If there was any sense of fairness in the world, Drew Jackson would suck as a kisser. Really suck. It would be all jabbing tongue and slobbery lips. But as Leah's mama had told her years before, life isn't fair. And Drew's kisses were the kind that short circuited her brain and electrified her body, making her forget everything else but him and how he made her feel. His hands cupping her face, making her skin tingle with anticipation. His lips, strong and hungry against her own, untying a knot of lust she'd kept on lockdown as well as she could around him. His hard body pressed against hers in all the right places as he backed her up against the hall closet door until there wasn't even a millimeter of space between them as his lips moved from her mouth to the column of her throat, making her toes curl inside her boots.

"It's not fair," she said, her voice low and desperate.

He laughed against her skin, a soft tickle before the sharp nip of his teeth against the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. "Sweets, when has that ever been part of the equation when it comes to us?"

The bastard was right. There was nothing but trouble between them, so she might as well get it out of her system once and for all.

Her hands were on his shirt, yanking it out of his pants almost before her brain had caught up. Wasn't that the story of her life though—especially when it came to Drew. She slipped her hand up underneath and her fingers rose and fell over the defined lines of his six-pack abs. It was good, but it wasn't enough. She wanted—needed—to see, to lick, to touch more. Before she got a chance though, he wrapped his hands around her wrists and pulled them up high.

"You're killing me," she said with a groan. God, he loved to play his games.

He adjusted his hold so he held both of her wrists in one hand and reached around behind his back, sin in his eyes and a dangerous smirk on his face. "No, what I'm going to do is much worse."

It was too much for her lust-fogged brain to unravel, right up until he pulled a pair of sheriff's office-issued handcuffs out from a loop on his jeans, snapped them around her wrists with a solid click and draped the short, two-link chain between them over the hook extending from the top of the closet door.

She yanked on her arms. They stayed put in their upright, fully extended position. A different kind of heat sizzled across her skin. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

Smart man that he was, Drew took a few steps back and out of range of her legs. "Are you uncomfortable?"

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "I'm pissed."

One side of his mouth curled up as he unbuckled his belt, drawing her attention down to that part of his anatomy she either wanted to kiss or kick—her brain couldn't decide, but her body had already made up its mind. Warm, liquid desire had her body aching for him even as she couldn't get within touching distance unless he decided she could. Something about that state had her body buzzing.

"You're pissed?" he asked, not bothering to cover up his amusement. "How unusual for you."

"I wonder why when it comes to you."

He answered that with a shrug before taking the five steps it took to get into the living room, laying his handgun on a side table next to the couch, and then coming back to stand in front of her in the hall. His gaze stayed on her face as he began unbuttoning his shirt, but Leah was nowhere near as disciplined. She couldn't stop her attention from traveling south with his fingers as he slipped each tiny button through the hole, revealing the expanse of his chest. She had to bite her bottom lip to stop herself from moaning. His low, throaty chuckle snapped her attention back north to the smug look on his face.

"You're such a jerk." She yanked on her arms. "Uncuff me."

"Not yet, Sweets, I have plans," he said, leaning in close and dipping his head down so that his lips almost touched hers.

Everything went so still as anticipation swept through her that she swore even her heart stopped beating for a moment before starting back up with a rush that had her entire body tingling. Only a last desperate surge of self-preservation kept her from rising up on her tiptoes and falling into the kiss. God, this man undid her. She could do this—do him—and keep her sanity but only if she was careful. Something dark and hungry flashed in Drew's eyes before he blinked it away, breaking the moment, and his lazy smirk returned. He brushed her lips with a barely there kiss, before squatting down and going to work on the laces of her Doc Martens, leaving a mixture of need and confusion in his wake.

He pulled one boot off and tossed it to the side. "Why do you wear these things?" he asked, untying the other.

"They're comfortable." At least they were right up to the moment when Drew decided to leave all the parts of her she wanted him to touch alone in order to take off her damn boots.

He took off the other boot and dropped it with a loud thunk. "They could knock out a bull."

"You know," she said, her frustration at his deliberate pace sneaking into her voice. "In the right light, with your hair a little messed up, you do look like you have horns."

There went that one-sided smirk of his again as he stayed on his knees in front of her and redirected those talented fingers to the top button of her jeans. "Are you flirting with me, Leah Camacho?"

"Not when I'm cuffed to a door when I'd rather be fucking you out of my system."

"Is that what we're doing?" The button popped free, but he lingered, brushing the rough pad of his thumb across the bare skin above her zipper.

Her breath caught as she fought giving in to the moment. A little enjoyment was one thing. Falling back into bad habits was something completely different.

"Could it ever be anything else?" she asked, ignoring the flutter of hope she knew better than to ever listen to again.

Answering with a non-committal shrug, Drew peeled off her jeans, leaving her now very damp panties in place. "How much do you like that shirt?"

"Don't you dare cut it off. It's my favorite." Soft black cotton that hugged her boobs without squashing them against her chest as if it had delusions of being the most unforgiving king of sports bras, her shirt had been on heavy rotation since the spring.

He toyed with the hem, the back of his knuckles skimming across the curve of her belly. "You'll change your mind."

"Cocky bastard." The insult was sixty miles shy of sounding as tough as she wanted but with Drew taking his sweet time about touching her, making her every sense tune into him and only him, that was about as badass as she could get at the moment.

"Nah." He leaned forward until his mouth was only millimeters from the patch of skin right above the hot pink bow on her panties. "Confident."

Anticipation thick enough to choke on swirled around them. He was fully dressed and on his knees in front of her. She was half naked, handcuffed to a closet door, and so turned on she was about to have an orgasm even though Drew had spent more time taking off her Doc Martens than caressing any part of her that actually ached for his touch.

His gaze flicked up toward her and something dangerous flashed in his dark eyes that sparked an answering call within her. And in that single moment that stretched to an eternity, she knew--just as sure as the stars were prettier in Texas than anywhere else in the world—that Drew Jackson was nothing but trouble. Even worse? God help her, he was her kind of trouble.

* * *

Drew

Long legs, big tits, smart mouth, devious fucking brain. He'd compared a lot of women to Leah Camacho since that summer. None had come close. Now he had the real thing and he almost didn't know what to do with her. Check that. He knew exactly what to do with her, the question was what to do first.

"You're killing me with these," he said, hooking a finger into the waistband of her hot pink panties. Watching the pulse point in her neck go into overdrive, he nudged the ridiculously girlie material down low enough that he could see she kept everything trimmed but not bare. All the better. "Such a bad girl on the outside with your tough chick boots and badass black, but look at you underneath." He kissed the spot below her belly button. "So soft." Another brush of his lips going lower. "And unless things have changed, which I highly doubt, you are very, very wet."

He stopped right above the line of tight curls, held his breath, and waited for her answer, his cock hard as a lead pipe.

"Yes," she said in a breathless whisper. "Wet."

The temptation to rip the flimsy lace away and lick her slick pussy until she came on his mouth had him fighting for control. "For what?"

"You."

Almost exactly what he wanted to hear. "More specific, Sweets."

"Your tongue. Your fingers. Your big, fat cock."

"All of it, huh?" The scent of her arousal when she rocked her hips toward him made him ache. "Come on, Sweets, you have to say it."

She let out a harsh groan. "All of it."

In one smooth motion, he slid the hot pink fabric down her smooth legs. She kicked them away and spread her stance without him even having to ask.

"You're eager tonight," he said, kissing his way across from one hip to the other, coming close but never quite getting to that one spot he knew she so desperately wanted. "But I have a lot of time to make up for. A lot of fantasies to play out. This," he stood up and wrapped his fingers around each one of her bound wrists, "was one of my favorites."

"Why?" she asked, the word ending with a moan as he kissed and nipped his way down the long column of her neck.

He left the question unanswered, distracting her by grasping one hard nipple poking against the cotton of her T-shirt and rolling it between his fingers while she shut her eyes and let her head fall back against the door. The look of wanton abandon on her beautiful face was almost more than he could take, but she needed to know who was in control here. He was. And if he wasn't, then everything was fucked because no one had ever made him lose control like she had. That was dangerous for his career and his sanity. Cops and pot dealers—even legal ones—didn’t make for long-term lovers, especially not when they lived states away from each other.

What the fuck are you thinking, Jackson? This isn't forever. It's tonight. Maybe the weekend. She's gone as soon as the reunion is done, so cowboy up and grow a pair.

Needing to stop his brain from spinning the kind of fantasies he couldn't allow himself to have, he cupped both of her tits through her shirt, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure that had her arching her back in ecstasy. Oh yeah. This is what his girl liked. A little rough. A little loss of control. A little tease and tickle.

"Too bad about this shirt." He lathed his tongue across one of her protruding—but covered—nipples. "I remember just how much you love to have these beauties played with. You were always so responsive when I'd use my teeth, suck them hard into my mouth, rub the hard stubble of my beard against the soft flesh. I understand though. It's obviously a very important shirt."

Leah groaned and knocked the back of her head against the door. "Just do it."

He managed—just barely—not to beat his own chest in triumph. "Do what?"

Giving him a glare that would kill most men, she said, "You know."

"Say it." Asshole? Him? Hell yes.

"Either uncuff me," she yanked her arms, making the cuffs rattle, "or cut my damn shirt off."

Saying I told you so was a temptation he avoided. Leah's legs were still free and, no doubt at this range, she could do some real damage with her knee. So instead, he took a step back and let himself take a long, slow up-and-down look at the one woman who'd gotten away who was now shackled to his hall closet door. That he'd shoved her out of his life with both hands by being a complete jackass wasn't lost on him, but sometimes doing the right thing sucked. No one knew that more than him. Tonight wasn't about the right thing though, it was about rocking her world so she'd remember him with the same ache with which he remembered her.

"Don't worry, I'll save you," he said. "It's all part of the job."

He fisted her shirt, but instead of going to get his utility knife, he slid the soft material up her arms until it was bunched around her wrists and half hanging from the same hook that held her cuffed wrists upright.

Sentimental sucker.

More like horny bastard who didn't want to leave Leah's side long enough to walk over to the kitchen and grab a utility knife.

The view almost made him swallow his tongue. Her tits were perfect. Scratch that. The same boobs on anyone else would be impressive but not nearly as incredible. That it was Leah who he could to touch, to lick, to kiss, to hear moan in ecstasy—that is what made all the difference. Her shirt out of the way, he was confronted with a second obstacle: Her sheer, hot pink bra. Too desperate for any other option, he lifted her tits out of the cups, shoving the material down and to the side and then lowered his lips to her perfect blush-colored nipples. She writhed and moaned as he sucked the bud into his mouth. Refusing to leave the rest of her alone as he grazed his teeth across her sensitive flesh, he slid his right hand lower, sinking between her slick, swollen folds.

"Oh God, yes," she called out, her voice as tight as the rest of her was soft and pliant to his touch.

Fuck. This was better than he remembered, having her like this; hot, wanting and desperate for him to give her exactly what she needed.

"What do you want, Sweets," he asked as he circled a fingertip lightly around her extended clit.

"I want to come."

"On my fingers or mouth?"

"Your dick," she said equal parts sexy surrender and stubborn demands. "I want to feel you inside me."

He glided a finger into her tight opening and then another. She squeezed him hard enough that the head of his already impossibly hard and aching cock became slick with pre-come. Sinking his dick balls deep inside her sounded like heaven right about now, but he'd be done too soon and he wanted to take his time with her. So instead of answering her, he withdrew his fingers from her sweet heat, dropped to his knees. His mouth was buried between her legs, lapping and sucking and teasing as he slipped his fingers again inside her, curling them to rub up against the bundle of nerves right there. This wasn't about finesse. It was an all out pleasure assault. He wanted to take her as high as he could, as fast as he could, before both of them lost their ever-loving minds. Circling her clit with his tongue. Rubbing his beard against her soft flesh just hard enough to tantalize. Fucking her with his fingers while she rode his face like she wanted to get to that orgasm as much as he wanted to take her there. As her moans became higher, he sucked hard on her clit and her thighs began to shake on either side of his head. Then, he added the press of his thumb to the spot right underneath her clit and she broke, her climax tasting sweeter than anything else in the world as he licked her until she begged him to stop.

Looking up at her, as loose and limp as she could be still cuffed to his closet door, his brain and his body went to war. Smart thing was to walk away while he still could. Too fucking bad he never could do the smart thing around Leah.

He uncuffed her and carried her into his bedroom, lying her down on his bed. Her dark hair flowed across the pillows, her naked body open to his perusal. Her full pouty lips were curled just enough to let him know she was up for more—exactly like he'd imagined her in a million jerk-off fantasies. Staying three steps back from the bed, he started to undress.

She sat up, watching him as he stripped off his shirt and kicked off his shoes. "Why do you always want to tie me up?"

"Because nobody runs like you do." It was true. For as much as he always seemed to be standing still and doing the expected, Leah was constantly moving and surprising everyone in Catfish Creek. "You run even when you're standing still. Always on guard. Always primed for a getaway. You've been like that since you were six and spent almost every afternoon at my house playing with Jessica."

Something bittersweet flashed across her face at the mention of his sister's name. "Those days are long gone."

"And thank God for it, because you were an even more stubborn brat then."

She grinned up at him, all sass and sexiness. "Spoken like a man who's not getting laid tonight."

"Sweets." He popped open the button of his jeans and kept his gaze on her hungry face as he slowly lowered the zipper. "We both know that's a lie."

He wouldn't say his ego was small to begin with, but it definitely got a might bigger as she watched him strip. Of course, he played it up a bit, taking his time getting his jeans off and then toying with his boxer briefs before dropping them. She was sitting on her heels at the edge of the bed by the end, sucking that full bottom lip of hers into her mouth, her eyes dark with lust.

"No more cuffs unless I'm locking you up," she said.

He barked out a laugh at that idea. "That's not gonna happen."

One side of her mouth went up, mocking him. "Chicken?"

No. Worse. "I've jerked off too many times remembering the feel of your skin and knowing I'd never get the chance to touch you again to ever give up the opportunity to have my hands on you."

"Show me."

Oh, hell yes, he was going to show her exactly all the ways he wanted to touch her. He took a step toward the bed.

She held up a hand, stopping him. "No. Show me how you jerked off to me. I want to watch."

"Does that get you hot, the idea of watching me stroke this big cock?" he asked, wrapping his fingers around himself and bringing them up and down slowly.

She bit her bottom lip and nodded, her gaze locked on his hand around his dick. Fucking A. There was no way he could say no to her when she looked at him like that.

* * *

Leah

She was going to come again just from watching Drew touch himself. Hot didn't begin to cover it. Molten. Face of the sun. Texas in August record-setting heat wave. It was that fucking hot. She was tempted to get down on her knees in front of him, but there was no way she'd be able to stop herself from joining in on the fun and she wanted to torture him a little like he'd done to her in the hall.

"Where are you when you stroke your cock thinking about me?" she asked.

"Bed. Shower. Kitchen." Slow and steady his hand stroked up and down his shaft. "On my fucking couch when some actress on TV reminds me of you. Once at work."

Her core clenched at the idea, the taboo of it making her wet enough that she could feel it on her thighs. "What got you that time?"

"It was right after Karly started organizing the reunion. Everyone was talking about it. I couldn't get you out of my head. I kept thinking about that night we fucked behind the stadium. It was so hot that no one was out but us. You were naked and on your knees in front of me, my cock filling up your mouth." He stroked his cock hard right up to the head, milking out some pre-come and scooping it up on one finger, holding it out for her.

She didn't hesitate, she opened her mouth and licked the salty liquid off, managing somehow not to jump him right then and there. "I remember that. I won that bet."

"Nah." He went back to rubbing his dick. "You lost, that's why you were naked and on your knees."

Men were so slow sometimes. "That's what you think."

"Fuck," he groaned and cupped his balls with his free hand. "That makes it even hotter. Just that image of you looking up at me, your lips were bright red and that sound you made every time my dick hit the back of your throat. Damn. It had me so hard I could barely fucking walk to the officer's locker room to take care of things."

Dying to touch him, but refusing to let herself, she fisted the sheets in her hands. "And you did?"

"Fuck yes. I was so close that I stood up in one of the changing stalls with one hand pressed against the cinderblock wall and the other wrapped around my prick." He threw back his head, tension cording his neck. "Three strokes and I was spraying that wall and swallowing every sound I wanted to make at that moment."

"What sound did you want to make?" Her body ached for him—all of him, filling her up until there was only them. Somehow, this had turned from tormenting him a little to outright torture for her.

"A groan. A yell. Your name."

She couldn't look away from his hand speeding up and down his swollen cock. "You're close now, aren't you?"

"Fuck yes." The words were as rough, hard, and desperate as the look in his eyes.

God, this man. Even like this, there was something so commanding about him that made her want him in ways she hadn't ever wanted anyone else. Without thinking, she leaned forward and cupped her boobs. "I want it right here."

His hand sped up. "You wanna be marked."

By him? Yes. "I want to be sticky with you and then I'm gonna rub it into my skin while you watch."

"Fuck, Leah," he yelled as he came, spraying her breasts with his hot release.

True to her word--and loving that bit of something extra that he always brought out in her—she rubbed it into her skin as he watched, his eyes almost black with desire and his chest heaving for breath.

* * *

Drew

If he didn't walk away now, Drew was going to die a miserable, horrible death alone because she was going to ruin him for anyone else. This woman wasn't just trouble. She was a certifiable menace.

And she's in your bed.

Naked.

Slick.

Beautiful.

Ready for more.

"Damn, Sweets." If it came out like a man who'd had a prayer answered, well, he couldn't be held accountable for that right now. Not with her.

One eyebrow went up. "You say that like a man who'd rather be somewhere else."

"Not on your life."

Cupping her face in his hands, he leaned down and kissed her, exploring and tasting every bit of her—or at least as much as he could tonight. He came down on the bed beside her, drawing her in against him. Her soft curves always fit so perfectly against him. Hands and mouths were everywhere as they each laid claim to the other one last time. He couldn't get enough of her. Neither could his dick because he was already hard again.

"What are you, secretly seventeen?" she asked, circling his cock with her fingers and squeezing him tight.

"Around you? It seems like it."

Reaching across her, he pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, took out a condom and then rolled it on. Looking down at her as she lay on her back spread out before him, his breath caught. Damn. If this was what trouble looked like, felt like, then maybe he did need a little more of it in his life.

"It's always like this with you, Sweets."

"Ditto," she said with a shy smile before pushing him down to his back and straddling him. "Now fuck me."

When she lowered herself onto his rigid cock, he could have died a happy man. Her warmth tightened around him and desire tightened his balls. Pleasure rippled outward from where they joined. He clapped his hands down on her round hips and yanked her down harder as she rocked her hips forward and back. Small whimpers escaped her lips as she increased the pace, riding him hard and fast in smooth, deep strokes. It was good. Really fucking good. But he needed more. Now.

He rolled them both so she was on her back and thrust deep into her hot, tight pussy. His eyes rolled back with pleasure as pressure began building in his spine. Her hips met his every thrust, words made incoherent by lust escaping her lips.

"Leah." Her name came out in a strangled groan. He couldn't hold on much longer.

She undulated against him and squeezed, her whole body tensed as she came around his dick with a cry. His balls tightened and he buried himself to the hilt and came so hard his vision went black and if he never got it back it would be worth it.

Chest heaving, he rolled onto his back and got rid of the condom, dropping it in the trashcan near his bed. Then he reached out, wrapped a hand around Leah's waist and pulled her close. Every bone in his body had been replaced with Jell-O laced with some sort of sleeping pill. He was going down. Hard. But a sharp elbow to the ribs kept him from drifting into the sweet hereafter.

"Hope you don't think you're staying here," Leah said, all the sex kitten gone from her voice.

He tried to untangle that statement and came up blank. "What?"

She rolled over to face him, her still kiss-swollen lips drawn tight. "That didn't change anything. I still hate you."

Drew glanced down at her naked body, lingering on her tits that still bore the tell-tale signs of him. "But you want me."

She let out a huff and shrugged. "Seems to be my cross to bear."

This woman made no sense. None. They'd just had mind-blowing sex and she was kicking him out of bed? Out of his own bed? Whatever he'd been thinking during the deed, he needed to block that shit out because Leah Camacho was exactly the same as she'd always been.

"You're as mean as a snake-bit cat in a room full of rocking chairs." Still, because he'd been raised right, even if it did piss him off sometimes, he got out of bed and gave the space to his houseguest.

She smiled up at him, obviously not giving a shit. "And I own it."

He grabbed a pair of sweats from a drawer and yanked them on. "Sweets, you're gonna have to learn one of these days that there's nothing wrong with being a little soft around the edges."

"Sure there is. That's exactly how you get hurt, which I don't plan on being again—especially not by someone with the last name Jackson."

The soft tremble to her voice, despite the hard look in her eye and her do-not-fuck-with-me body language, hit him like a punch to the gut. Leah and his little sister Jess had been best friends growing up but something had changed all that. He didn't know what, but it had obviously messed with both of them. The realization took some of the edge off his own frustration as he started out the door.

He stopped in the doorway. "People can change, you know. You gotta learn to trust that." Maybe even him.

Whatever reaction he'd been hoping for—and he wasn't even sure himself—he didn't get it. Instead, Leah harrumphed and rolled over so she faced away from him.

Shaking his head, he walked out into the hall, grabbed a blanket from the hall closet where his cuffs still hung, and made up the couch in the living room unable to get the idea of change out of his head. People did change. But him? He was still in the same place he was last time Leah was in town, dealing with overbearing parental expectations of what he should be doing and waiting for a phone call with a job offer out of town. It was like his life was stuck on a loop with Leah being the one who always seemed to knock him out of it.