Taming Johnny (7 page)

“What did you mean by that?” She was practically panting, her hair hanging seductively over one eye.

“What did I mean by what?”

“When you said ‘Jesus’.”

He was having trouble standing still. The pressure in his groin was mind numbing. “What?”

“Did you say that because you think I’m…big?”

He stared at her unbelievingly. She wasn’t mad. She was just asking matter-of-factly; like she’d been expecting his disappointment. The idea that she could be worried about her body never occurred to him. She was voluptuous, beautiful. “What?
No.
” He hesitated, trying to find the right words, but feeling like he was losing a battle. “You’re just…fine, Beaumont.”

It wasn’t poetry, but it seemed to satisfy her. Snaking her arms around his neck, she pressed against him. He reached around and found the clasp of her bra, unhooking it before she could move away again. The fabric fell and he ran his hand down the curve of her back, into the waistband of her panties. She gasped when his palm cupped one of her ass cheeks, and the sound almost made him come unhinged. Grinding his groin into hers, he kissed her neck again, liking the way she smelled. But liking the way she felt better.

She was right. They’d been dancing around this for too long. Maybe after they fucked, he’d be able to think about something else.

But somewhere in the deepest corner of his mind, a little voice that sounded like an irritating combination of Jake and his uncle, nagged at him.
Be a decent guy, Street.
Instinctively, he wanted to be anything but. He wanted to push her down on the bed, spread her legs, and feel them wrap eagerly around his back. He wanted to slide into her over and over again, and hear her breathing his name against his neck. And then, he wanted to be done with it.

Instead, he took her by the shoulders and looked into her face. Her bombshell hair was falling forward again and he brushed it aside, a movement that was uncharacteristically tender. He cleared his throat.

“We can stop now, Beaumont. It’s not too late.”

She didn’t look away, didn’t hesitate like he was fully expecting her to. Clearly, this was a bad idea. He was a bad bet, and she was a smart girl. She knew better. Surprising him, she smiled.

“It’s too late for me,” she said.

He didn’t smile back. For some reason, he was afraid if he did, it would change something for him. He studied her features in the grainy light. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Without waiting for a response, she reached for his belt, unbuckled it, and slid it through the loops of his slacks, her full, round breasts swinging with every movement. He swallowed, wanting more than anything to have their rosy peaks in his mouth. First one, then the other.

She pulled his slacks down, along with his jockeys, until they were facing each other with only her silky panties between them. He guided her toward the bed before leaning over to retrieve his wallet from the pocket of his slacks. He’d carried a condom since he was seventeen years old, a habit which proved to be convenient more times than once.

Beaumont lay down on the bed, her long hair fanning out on the pillow beside her. Her face was darkened by the shadows of the room, but he could see enough of it to tell she was nervous. She was an odd combination of woman and kid. Confidence and worry. His gut twisted at the thought that maybe she wasn’t like that with other guys. That maybe he was the one who worried her. And again, he had to remind himself that he didn’t care.

He lay down beside her and dropped his head to her breast. Sighing, she arched her back as he took a hardened nipple into his mouth. She was salty, warm, textured. He trailed a hand along the curve of her hip and hooked his thumb into the side of her panties, tugging them down over her rounded bottom. He’d never admit it, but he’d been wanting this for a very long time. Maybe since the first time he’d seen her, all nervous excitement on her first day of work. He’d had to make a conscious effort not to stare when the chief had introduced them, and to set a precedent, he’d been a prick ever since. Probably for his own benefit.

Reaching up, she touched the nape of his neck, running her fingers through his hair and stroking the sensitive skin behind his ear. Very slowly, she wrapped one leg over the back of his thighs, pressing her pelvis into his. Her eyes were hooded, her lips red and tempting. She reminded him of a movie star from the 1940s, or one of those provocative pin-up girls they used to paint on the side of war planes. She was a classic beauty. Every look, every touch warmed his blood, and the urge to take his time with her was practically overwhelming.

So naturally, he did the opposite. Rolling on top of her, he pushed every thought of love making aside and concentrated on fucking, where he was most comfortable.

She spread her legs and he reached for the condom, unwrapping it and putting it on with a quickness born out of pure necessity. Kissing her again, he found her slick, wet opening and slid inside, forcing himself to go easy. She was tight. So tight that he wondered how long it had been. She kissed him back, flicking her tongue against his, moaning softly at the same time. He grabbed a handful of pillow, clenching his fist until it hurt, pumping in and out until he broke a sweat.

She lifted her hips to meet his and said something against his neck that he couldn’t quite hear. As she breathed out she spoke again, louder this time, her lips barely touching his jaw.

“
Johnny
.”

She’d never called him anything but Lieutenant before. Swallowing a growl, he kissed her with such raw intensity that she whimpered. It was too rough. He was going to hurt her. But honestly, she was all he could handle. Her voice, her body, the way she looked at him. What was he getting himself into?

Then she said it again. And he came before he could help himself.

Chapter 8

Emma woke up to a sliver of early morning sunlight coming through the curtains. And she woke up alone. She wasn’t surprised, really. She’d been expecting it. Still, her heart ached at the memory of what had happened the night before. How he’d felt on top of her, inside her. She had no way of knowing if it was just this one time, or if he’d want her again. She certainly wasn’t expecting anything more than sex, and as she threw off the covers and plucked her clothes from the floor, she told herself she was okay with that. So what if she’d never had a one-night stand in her life? Or that she’d only been with one other person? She was a grown woman. An adult who was free to do what, or whom, she chose. And wasn’t this what young women her age were supposed to do? Have meaningless flings and gab about them with their girlfriends over margaritas afterward?

It all sounded well and good, except for one thing. She’d chosen to have a one-night stand with a man whom she had feelings for.
Why
she cared, she had no idea. He was the biggest jerk she’d ever met. But there was something else, something about him which drew her in. As if there were significantly more to the man than just his gruff, and extremely sexy, exterior. He’d given her a glimpse a few times. The night of the storm for one. Last night, being the other.

Emma stepped into her panties and hiked them quickly over her hips. He could have just thrown her down on the bed and had his way with her. And, let’s face it, that would have been fine with her if he had. Except he’d stopped mid-ravage, and asked her if she was sure. That wasn’t something a jerk did. That was something a gentleman did.
Gentleman?
Gentleman and Johnny were two words she never thought she’d put together.

Buttoning up her blouse, she caught her reflection in the dresser mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was a mess. She believed the correct term was JBF—
Just Been Fucked hair
. Her eyes were bright and seemed extra blue in the early morning light. She looked like she was…glowing? Grabbing her purse, she scurried out of the room and closed the door softly behind her.
Lordy.

* * * *

The drive back home was uneventful. And really, really quiet. For the most part, Emma stared straight ahead with her hands in her lap, wondering what Johnny was thinking. Every now and then, she’d sneak a look in his direction and he’d look back, expressionless.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she’d say, unable to stop thinking about how just twelve hours ago they’d been naked, wrapped in a delicious, sweaty tangle. It was all starting to feel like a dream. Especially with the other half of that tangle acting as if nothing had happened.

She looked over again. One of his hands casually gripped the steering wheel. The other lay across his thigh. For a fleeting second, she wished it were across hers. No…scratch that, between hers. She cracked the window and leaned gratefully into the cool breeze.

“So.”

She jumped.

“The chief says you’re thinking about applying for that dispatcher’s job at county.”

Trying to collect her thoughts, Emma focused on the small, curved scar at the corner of his right eye. She wasn’t usually this close. Except, of course last night. And she’d been too busy kissing his nipples to notice many details. Instinctively, she wanted to ask him about the scar. She wanted to ask him about a lot of things, but knew it wasn’t a great idea. Poking a hibernating bear with a stick would probably be less risky.
Job. Job. Oh, yeah. That.

“Thinking about it. I love our department, but there’s not much room for growth there.”

He nodded. “It’s a good job. I’ll give you a recommendation if it gets that far.”

Frankly, the thought of leaving, especially now, made her stomach turn. She’d been looking forward to seeing him every single day for a year. If she left, that would be it, and she knew it. “Thank you.”

He was quiet for a minute, studying the road ahead, his sun kissed brows furrowed. When he spoke again, he didn’t look at her. “Dispatchers have to have a serious knowledge of what cops do on the road.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Have you ever been on a ride-along?”

Kind of. Does last night count?
“Only one. On my first day.”

“I know the chief sets those up for new employees. They don’t count, too tame. I’m covering for Roberts on Thursday night if you want to come then.”

Was he speaking in code?

“I’d love to,” she said, unable to help smiling. Maybe this was as close as she’d get to a date with Lieutenant Street. She looked out the window, still grinning.

Maybe I’ll wear a dress and heels.

* * * *

Johnny listened to the familiar sound of his running shoes slapping the pavement.

Despite being barely six AM, the Texas morning was already muggy and promised to bring with it a scorching day. Sweat dripped down his shoulder blades, soaking his favorite Army t-shirt as he listened to Jake chat amiably beside him. He was the only guy Johnny knew who could happily carry on a full-fledged conversation and run at the same time.

“Well?”

Johnny slid him a look. “Well, what?”

“How was that conference?”

Jake was always mother henning him, always trying to get him to talk. After he’d come home from Iraq, Jake wouldn’t let him alone. He was relentless.
Cheap therapy
, he’d joke. But Johnny knew he’d been worried. They all had.

“It was fine.”

“You went with that girl who works in your office? Emma, something or other?”

“Yup.”

“You like her?”

Johnny almost tripped over a rock and swore under his breath. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you’ve mentioned her before. In passing.”

“I don’t remember.”

“I do.” Jake was like a chick. He wasn’t going to let it go.

“Well, I don’t.”

“It’s okay if you have a thing for someone, man.”

“Jesus, Jake.”

They were quiet for a minute, the sound of their breathing filling the awkward silence.

“You know we’re barbequing for the fourth, right?” Jake finally said.

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you ask her to come?”

Johnny slowed to a stop and leaned over with both hands on his knees. He took a few deep breaths before looking up at his cousin, who had also stopped. He squinted through the sweat which was dripping into his eyes, and stinging like crazy. “Shit, Jake. This isn’t high school. Since when do I bring anyone to meet the family?”

Jake shrugged, his t-shirt clinging to his shoulders. “There’s a first time for everything,” he said, his face taking on an expression which reminded Johnny of his own mother. His heart tightened and he looked away. “Just think about it, okay?”

Johnny looked at his watch and wiped his hand across his forehead. “I’m gonna be late for work.”

* * * *

Thursday, otherwise known as “the night of the ride-along with Johnny”, finally came after an uneventful week at work. Emma had a pretty good idea that things wouldn’t be much different where Lieutenant Street was concerned. Work was work, sex or no. Still, she had hoped for a heated glance here or there, maybe even an inappropriate touch in passing. She guessed that was the adolescent girl in her. The one who fell asleep to fevered thoughts of Johnny kissing her breasts and cupping her face in his hands. The other Emma, the grown up one, kept trying to reason with the other.
Don’t expect too much. You’ll get your heart broken if you do. Be tough. He is.

So she’d brace herself when she had to take a file into his office, or relay a phone message in person. She’d try not to stare at the way his sandy blond head was bent over his work, or the way his uniform fit across the chest, knowing full well what he looked like underneath. She’d put her shoulders back and bite the inside of her cheek, summoning the strength to act natural.

But when Thursday night came, she found herself obsessing over what to wear.
So much for natural.
Finally deciding that strictly professional was the way to go, she wore her official PD polo and khaki slacks. This was, after all, a work outing. Or it was supposed to be. Emma brushed her hair, touched up her makeup a little, and thought that overall she didn’t look like she was trying too hard. These ride-alongs were fairly common. An interesting way for citizens or other city workers to get to know what police officers did, they were open to most anyone. As long as you didn’t have a criminal record, you were welcome to spend part of an officer’s shift with them. Emma had only been on one before. She thought it had been a little boring, but she’d also been riding with Hank King, a kind, but portly officer who was nearing retirement at the time and spent a good portion of the ride-along munching on a breakfast burrito. She had a feeling this time would be different.