Undercover Lovers (17 page)

“
Fuck that,” Cricket
muttered. She slipped her arms around him and gripped his ass with
both hands, pulling him into her until he was seated to the hilt.
She ground against him furiously, her body knowing what it needed
and taking it. His resolve to take it slow blew out the window as
her slick inner walls squeezed him. He matched her rhythm with
long, deep strokes, his body straining towards release. They moved
faster as he bent his head to lick and suck her nipple. That must
have done it because her body tensed, tightening around him. He
squeezed his eyes shut, digging deep for just a few more seconds of
control. She was almost there…

A keening wail built in her
throat and she shattered, convulsing around him. Shudders racked
her body as she worked her clutching pussy over his cock. It was
like a fist, pulling at him relentlessly he tumbled after her. He
flexed hard one last time, groaning her name as his body
exploded.

***

She didn’t know how long
they slept, wrapped in one another on his couch, but when she woke
up it was dark. Her leg was numb and she tried to extract herself
from his hold without waking him.

“
Trying to escape?” he
asked, his voice husky and warm.

“
Nope. Just trying to avoid
the need for amputation, is all.”

He laughed. “Sorry about
that.”

He stood and held out a hand
to help her up.

She tried not to drool as
she took in the sight of his naked body in the moonlight. His
shoulders were wide, his chest tapering down to chiseled abs and
lean hips. Her pulse skittered.

“
Damn. Professor Lamb, you
got it going on. You had way too many clothes on at the restaurant
and I only got to see bits and pieces earlier. Me
likey.”

“
You’re not so bad yourself,
Doc.”

His sweet nickname caught
her and she faced him straight.

“
I like you, Tuck. And I
want to see where this goes.”

“
I want that too.” His face
looked troubled. “But what if someone else finds out? Skeet will
keep it hush hush, but it’s a small world. What if I have to leave,
start over again?” His soulful hazel eyes searched hers. “What if I
can’t give you up then?”

“
Hopefully that will never
happen. But if it does and you can’t give me up by then, it’ll be
because we’re meant to be and I’ll go with you.”

 “
That sounds real
good.” He nodded and brushed her hair away from her forehead. “I
know what you said and I know you aren’t mad, but I want to make
sure I say this. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth right from
the start. But I really am different. I’ve been a good man. I want
to continue to be a good man.” He gazed at her in earnest and she
caressed his cheek.

“
I believe that. But you can
still be a good man and a bad boy, can’t you? I like you a little
bad, Tuck,” she murmured.

The serious expression gave
way to a killer grin. “Well, now that you mention it, I was
thinking, we have two more weeks before the projects are due. We
can go to the lab and pick up the glove and maybe some whipped
cream…”

She laughed and pressed her
mouth to his. Oh yeah, this was definitely worth a shot.

Chloe Cole is one half of
the happiest couple in the world. She and her handsome hubby
currently reside in Pennsylvania with a four-pack of teenage boys
and their two dogs, Gimli and Pug. If she gets time off from her
duties as maid, chef, chauffeur, or therapist, she can be found
reading just about anything she can get her hands on, from Young
Adult novels to books on poker theory. She doesn’t like root beer,
clowns or bugs (except ladybugs, on account of their cute outfits),
but lurrves chocolate, going to the movies, the New York Giants and
playing Texas Hold ‘Em.

Writing is her passion, but
if she had to pick another occupation, she would be a pirate…or,
like, a ninja maybe. She loves writing fun and adventure-filled
romance stories, but also hopes to one day publish something her
dad can read without wanting to dig his eyes out with rusty spoons.
Chloe also writes romance under the pen name Christine Bell. She
loves to hear from readers, so please feel free to get in touch
with her via her website
http://www.christine-bell.com

To my mom, who is proud of
me even when I don’t deserve it. And to Taryn Elliott, the most
kickass critique partner, bestie and author ever.

In theory, a bachelorette
party should provide plenty of chances to get laid. Except when
said bachelorette party occurred at a club featuring barely dressed
male entertainers.

Emma Donegan sighed and
swirled the glass she held of lime green liquid, the virgin version
of her best friend’s drink. Totally stripped of all the good
stuff.

Just like her completely
unexplosive sex life, which offered few inducements to cause that
rare phenomena known as an orgasm. And multiples? Forget it.
Mission impossible.

“
You need another drink,”
Becky mumbled in her ear, patting Emma's leg just above the hem of
her sensible skirt.

“
No way. Can't you see I'm
already tipsy?” To add veracity to the story, Emma added a giggle
and a hiccup.

Seemingly appeased, Becky
nodded. She didn't need a lot of corroborating evidence tonight.
She was drunk enough for the both of them. Bride-to-be's
privilege.

“
It won’t be long now before
we’re both tethered. Well, mine will be legal, yours just the bonds
of boredom.” Becky laughed. “Though I keep wondering why you party
it up just to go home to Ted.”

“
You do the same damn
thing.”

“
Oh no, I don’t. Believe me
the party continues when I’m alone with Jake.” Becky waggled her
brows. “You, on the other hand, get to listen to Ted regale you
with tales from the wild world of fish.”

“
Not anymore I don't,” Emma
muttered.

She'd done something utterly
shocking last weekend, so shocking she hadn't even told her best
friend about it yet. Instead of waiting to be dumped or proposed
to—both scenarios were equally horrifying—by her latest long-term
boyfriend, she'd broken up with him first. Amicably of course.
She'd just been very honest about her needs not being met, though
she appreciated his time. All eight months of it, not counting
weekends because that's when Ted went fishing.

Keeping that in mind, she'd
called him so as not to put a damper on his trip with his buddies
and let him off the hook. Literally.

He hadn't been too upset.
Ted's idea of getting worked up meant leaning forward to stare at
the TV during the bass fishing pro-am tournament.

She'd had enough of boredom.
From now on, she intended to grab hold of the whole fun and sex
enchilada. But she couldn’t get in a party mood and she’d dressed
all wrong. What she thought sent a subtle message of availability
sure didn’t when compared to the practically naked women sashaying
all over the club.

Too late. She’d just have to
make the best of things. If she wanted to get laid,
gloom-and-dooming her way through the evening wouldn’t get the job
done.

“
Ted’s out of the picture,”
Emma said definitively, hoping she sounded cheerful about that fact
rather than vaguely nauseous at the thought of being almost thirty,
single and without any prospects. Yet again.

She didn't have anything
against relationships, per se. But the idea of settling down before
she'd let loose and gone for it at least once in her life downright
depressed her. “It” being one night where she could act completely
uninhibited, consequences be damned.

“
What's that mean?” Becky's
voice slurred as she dropped her forehead to the table.

“
It means I'm sexy, single
and free.”

She grimaced and glanced
down at her long skirt and unrevealing top. Ah well, at least she’d
achieved two out of three. Though she normally placed herself
around average on the beauty scale, in a place like this she felt
downright plain.

 “
Aw, shit, did Ted
dump you?”

“
No, I released him from our
relationship contract.” Emma patted Becky on the shoulder. She'd
yet to lift her head from the table. “Good thing this party's
winding down, because you, my blushing bride, are thoroughly
toasted.”

“
Winding down? Fuck, no. You
promised me a show.” She finally raised her head and started
pounding on the table, banging her engagement ring against the fake
wood. “Where are my strippers?”

As if the dancers had heard
her shout, the dark red velour curtain onstage began to rise. But
the banging continued.

“
Hey, hey, watch your ring.
You’re going to scratch it if you keep that up.” Emma grabbed
Becky’s hand, only to earn a glare.

“
Why don’t you wear it then?
I want my strippers!”

Before she knew what had
happened, Becky had shoved her engagement ring on Emma’s finger.
They always swapped rings since they wore the same size. A bit
strange to swap this particular one but at least it would still be
intact tomorrow.

As Becky started to chant
unintelligible words, Emma looked toward the stage and gulped her
drink. Guys gyrating in the half-nude were not what she considered
a crucial ingredient for a fun night—unless they were giving a
private, horizontal show. A line of them parading about in their
banana hammocks? It didn’t turn her on. Talk about degrading. And
seedy. And—

And holy crap, who
was
that
?

Emma's cheeks heated as a
row of guys dressed in various uniforms came into view. A loud
R&B hit suddenly blasted from the speakers and they started
bumping and grinding to the beat. The lineup included the requisite
fireman, scientist—in flapping lab coat, no less—and construction
worker. Bringing up the rear were a boxer and a cop. The cop
so
couldn't dance. He kept
watching the other guys and trying to mimic their moves. Not only
did he have two left feet, they were both broken.

But he scored high on the
yummy scale. Long and lean, his firm muscles bunched in all the
right places. Other parts of him appeared quite firm as well. Emma
tried not to look, but the big badge he had pinned over his package
didn't help.

Protect and serve, huh? She
wouldn't mind some serving from him tonight.

Thoughtfully, she reached
for the bag of novelty items she'd distributed to each of the four
women celebrating with Becky. She'd made up a bag for herself too,
though she'd had no intention of using most of the stuff
inside.

Edible body powder? It would
probably make her sneeze. Day-glo condoms? To put on whom? But just
now, the vibrating nightstick she'd bought as a gag gift seemed
especially appropriate.

She started to withdraw the
slim wand, turning at a movement beside her chair. Holy shit, the
owner of a red, white and blue G-string had appeared at her
side.

Emma's attention flew
upward, seeking the face attached to the groin gyrating inches
away. It was
him
.
The bad dancing cop. He’d obviously decided to make up for what he
lacked in dancing talent with moves of another sort. His hips
swiveled in ways that should be illegal, especially when a badge
bounced in time with his rhythmic steps.

And the smile he flashed
her? Criminal. Devastating. His short brown hair fell forward,
dipping into his light eyes. Gray, maybe. She found it hard to note
nuances while he gave the dance his all so close to where her
nipples had gone on high alert.

She fumbled for her wallet.
Weren't you supposed to tip guys when they were flaunting their
junk? Despite her certainty she’d flushed the same flame red as her
shirt, she owed this fine gentleman some compensation for his
efforts.

Without looking at what she
pulled out, she shoved some money at him.

“
Not his hand, dummy,” Becky
whispered. “Stick it in his G-string, Em!”

Emma's eyes widened until
her forehead hurt. Nope, no way. The only men's underwear she felt
up were those belonging to her significant others and none of them
had ever sported patriotically themed banana hammocks.

Of course none of them had
sported bananas like that either.

She wet her lips as the cop
turned to Becky when she motioned him her way. Huh. It
couldn't
be real. Could
it?

While the cop swiveled his
hips in front of all the appreciative ladies at the table, Emma
tossed back more of her drink. Oddly enough, she felt sort of
drunk. She hadn't been in years, for good reason. Sometimes the
guys she came on to while inebriated didn’t appreciate her
forwardness.

Sometimes? Try most
times.

One time she'd licked a
random man's ear at a club after having two drinks. His wife hadn't
been pleased. Another time she'd bared her breasts to a passing car
as she'd ridden in Becky's passenger seat. That hadn't been so bad,
except the hottie she'd flashed had two toddlers in the backseat
and she hadn’t seen them until too late.