Read How Hard Can It Be? Online

Authors: Robyn Peterman

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary

How Hard Can It Be? (10 page)

BOOK: How Hard Can It Be?
Chapter 10
y date with myself was going well so far. Kristy had gone to Wisconsin to visit her grandma for a few days, so I had full control of the TV remote. It was perfect. No Evangeline, no little green men or gremlins, no geriatric gal pals who are married to gay men, no assholes masquerading as sexy cops . . . Just me, myself, and I. A nice boring evening at home, dim lights, citrus-scented candles, a
marathon on A&E, and a huge bowl of black raspberry chip ice cream.
Speaking of hot cops, I needed to find Jack and un-invite him for Saturday. Eating his card had been a bad idea. It had seemed like such a smart move at the time. Now I was screwed. There was no way I was stepping foot anywhere near the police station. Having no clue how to solve that little dilemma, I decided procrastination would be the wisest course. I would let nothing come between me and my ice cream.
Although Jenny’s reaction to my having the hottest (albeit fake) boyfriend in the universe might be worth being cuffed in front of my entire family. Maybe I could strike a deal and he’d agree to arrest me after dinner . . . Fuck it and fuck him. I would meet him outside my parents’ house and tell him to leave. If he wanted to take me into custody for being a jewel thief, fine. At least my family wouldn’t see it happen. Done. I was glad all of this had happened. It strengthened my resolve to stay away from cops. Thankfully the burning desire to see my neighbor’s face was gone, too. Jack had very effectively taken the shine off dating any cop or man for the rest of my life.
I looked down at my T-shirt and smiled. I’d dressed up for my date. My Captain Crunch T-shirt made me happy. The small fact that the Captain and his blow-up doll Susan made an appearance in my career-destroying story was pure bonus.
The T-shirt was obscene. Tight and sexy and worn out in all the right places. I’d had it since middle school and it was my favorite piece of clothing. Paired with a comfy pair of jeans that sat low on my hips and with my hair twisted into a cute, messy ponytail, I felt relaxed and calm. Kristy called this my jailbait hooker look. I thought it was hot even though I’d never go out in public like that. A knock at the door yanked me back to reality and scared the hell out of me.
“Son of a bitch,” I told my ice cream, “who’s knocking on my door at 9:30 at night?” The gay couple downstairs worked the night shift and the gal next door was a bit of a recluse. Maybe it was Mr. Asstastic from downstairs . . . God, I just wanted to be left alone. “Who is it?”
“It’s Jack.”
“Jack who?” I asked.
“Jack Snuffleupagus.”
I couldn’t help laughing. My mother and aunt had obviously clued him in on his fictional last name. He might have a sense of humor, but he was still the enemy. I couldn’t let his assorific behind, hot bod, and beautiful face cloud my judgment. What in the hell was he doing here? How did he get into my building? I was so not ready to do hard time. “Do you have a search warrant?”
“Um, no. Should I?” He sounded confused. Good. I planned to keep the bastard on his toes. I would not go willingly and I wouldn’t open the door.
“Why are you here?” I asked warily.
“Because I want to see you. You didn’t call me.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“I ate your card.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I. Ate. Your. Card.”
There was a long pause. I realized I sounded as insane as my Aunt Phyllis. That wasn’t such a bad thing; maybe he’d run away.
“Did it taste good?” he asked.
“Rena, open the door.”
“Are you going to handcuff me?” I demanded.
“Not unless you want me to,” he laughed. “Rena, open the door, please. It’s a social call.”
Social call, my butt. I yanked open the door, ready to give him a piece of my mind, and was rendered speechless. I’d seen many pretty things in my life, but nothing as stunning as the man standing in my doorway. Shit, shit, shit. How could he look better than I remembered? His faded jeans weren’t too tight or too loose. His long-sleeved henley amplified his muscular chest and arms and the color matched his gray-blue eyes. It wasn’t fair. It didn’t matter how good-looking he was, it couldn’t erase the fact that he wanted to throw me in the slammer and ruin my life.
He stopped in the doorway. His eyes got large as he took in my outfit. Good. He could see what he would never have. I noticed he moved in a few steps, making it impossible for me to slam the door in his face without breaking his nose.
His eyes were glued to my chest, which was being firmly hugged by Captain Crunch and no bra.
“Um, hello,” I snapped, jolting him out of his boob fantasy. “My face is up here.”
He had the decency to look embarrassed, but that didn’t stop his appraisal. His eyes traveled lazily to my neck, my lips, my eyes, lingering everywhere they passed. Delight and something I couldn’t define flashed in his gorgeous eyes. I felt a little light-headed. . . I realized I had forgotten to breathe.
“Hi Rena.” He grinned and stepped toward me. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
“Really?” I lifted an eyebrow and backed up into the wall. “I haven’t thought about you at all, not once . . . not even a little bit . . . at all . . . ever.” I shoved my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t grab him and yank him to me, or worse.
“You haven’t thought about me once?” He made a sad face. His eyes were anything but sad. They were come fuck me, bedroom eyes.
Shit, I was in trouble.
“Nope, not once.” I tried to back up some more, but a wall is a wall. If he didn’t stop looking at me like that, my inner slut would take over and I’d ride him like a cowboy. “So are you here to arrest me?”
He stared at me in confusion. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I am, you idiot.”
The expression on his face clearly evidenced that not many people call him an idiot. Bizarrely enough, he seemed to enjoy it. That was a good thing because I had an arsenal of things I planned on calling him.
“Did you do something else illegal?” he asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep his eyes glued to mine. My tatas were apparently too much of a distraction.
“No, I did not,” I huffed. His intense concentration on my body set off fireworks in my stomach, not to mention that my lady bits were dancing up a storm in my panties. He needed to leave. Now. “It was lovely seeing you again. Sorry you have to go so soon,” I chirped trying to push him toward the door, but six-foot-two of solid muscle is not easy to move.
He laughed. God, he was so sexy when he laughed. I couldn’t think straight when I was near him. Thank Jesus, I had the wall to hold me up. He moved closer and stopped inches from me. My insides started to tighten.
“You’re a mystery,” he said running a finger along my bottom lip. I leaned forward with a burning desire to take that finger into my mouth and suck on it. What the fu . . . ? I was beginning to think I might have inherited some of Uncle Fucker’s ho-bag tendencies.
I pressed myself back up against my friend, the wall. I was hoping to put more than just a few inches between us. This man, this Jack, this cop, was making me consider things I’d never imagined doing in this lifetime. Evangeline’s fornicating statues came to mind.
He moved even closer. I closed my eyes, praying that if I couldn’t see him, the need to knock him to the ground and have my way with him would disappear. Maybe, just maybe, if I couldn’t see his lips and his eyes and the sexy stubble on his cheeks, my body would relax and the pressure between my legs would lessen.
No. Such. Luck.
Damn, he smelled good. I opened my eyes to find the object of my desire and possibly the instrument of my incarceration a simple breath away from my lips. His eyes were intense. He put his hands on the wall on either side of me. Successfully, but loosely, trapping me. I knew I could get away if I wanted to . . . I didn’t want to. God, I hadn’t been this turned on in like . . . ever.
“Is this normal police procedure?” I whispered.
“Nope.” He grinned.
“Then what is it?” Was that my voice? I sounded like a freakin’ phone sex operator.
“This is me, Jack, wanting to get to know the most gorgeous, sexy, and possibly craziest girl I’ve ever met in my life.”
“Oh, okay then.”
He slowly bent his elbows, his eyes never leaving mine, until his chest was pressed against my breasts. I felt my nipples harden. His eyes flashed with delight and the corner of his mouth lifted into the sexiest smirk I’d ever seen. I was very sure he no longer wanted to arrest me.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
“Um, yes,” I muttered, positive he could hear my heart bouncing around in my chest.
He was so close I could taste his breath and it tasted good. If he pressed himself against me any harder, I was liable to have a very loud, screaming orgasm. He smiled as if he knew what I was thinking.
“I’m not sure Saturday night is such a good idea,” I mumbled.
“No?” he whispered into my mouth. “I think it’s a great idea.”
To my horror, my tongue darted out and ran slowly over my lips. He smiled evilly and made the sexiest sound I’d ever heard. The blue of his eyes intensified.
Help me, Jesus.
“I think it’s a bad idea,” I gasped. If he didn’t back off soon, I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions. I didn’t think he’d take issue with what I wanted to do to him, but even I knew screwing the guy that could take my freedom away was probably a bad move.
I wondered if I just kissed him once, if he’d leave it at that. Somehow I didn’t think so. He so did not seem the type to kiss and run. He seemed more of a kiss and kiss and kiss guy . . . starting at my mouth, then my neck, then lower and lower and lower and . . .
“Are you still in there?” Jack snapped me out of the porno playing in my head with a twinkle in his eyes, leading me to believe he could tell what I was thinking. Shit, was he one of those psychic cops?
“Still here,” I murmured.
“Excellent. I’d hate to lose you now. We’re just getting to the good part.”
My knees buckled as he nipped and kissed my neck. He grabbed me as I started to melt into a puddle at his feet. The entire length of his body was pressed to mine. And let me tell you, it was one hell of a body. Every long, hard, muscular inch of him.
“Oh my God,” I whimpered, grasping his broad shoulders and pressing back against this man I barely knew. Who, until two minutes ago, I thought wanted to take me to jail. Maybe he had a weird fetish for lawbreakers . . .
“You are wild and beautiful and totally disrespectful,” he whispered, running his tongue along my earlobe. He continued to speak softly, and I continued to lose brain cells. He ran his lips over my jaw and back to the corner of my mouth. I shuddered and almost passed out.
His eyes bored into mine with an intensity that scared the hell out of me and turned me on at the same time. “I think your outfit is kinda hot,” he said, grinning.
“Just kinda?” I let my inner slut out and put my best flirt on.
“Just kinda, definitely, absolutely hot.” He was a pretty damn good flirt himself.
He placed his hand on the small of my back, trapping me for real. No getting away this time, not that I wanted to. I threaded my hands through his thick blond hair, cupped the back of his neck, and pulled his lips to mine. He teased my mouth with the tip of his tongue, licking along my lower lip before he slanted his mouth across mine and turned me to jelly. He parted my very willing lips with his tongue and took his slow sweet time. His body against mine sent a warm heat coursing through me, making my girlie parts sing. Loud. Kissing him was better than any sex I’d ever had.
Sex with him would be . . . God, I couldn’t even . . . I bet it would be better than black raspberry chip ice cream. Legs, I couldn’t feel my legs. Oh God, I couldn’t . . . He tasted so good. I kept trying not to notice, but he was determined to remind me. His hands moved to my bottom, grinding me against an erection so impressive, I felt light-headed. This guy was killing me.
My wisp of silk panties were now soaked and my body had grown its own brain. My inner slut was having a gymnastics meet in my nether regions and I prayed silently Jack had condoms in his wallet. I really, really wanted to get him naked and make him see God.
My traitorous body was writhing all over his and the gorgeous cop was having a difficult time maintaining control. God, that’s hot. But more alarming than what I was doing was what I was thinking.
I want him to be mine. That’s right, I want to marry him, bear his children, and fuck him into unconsciousness every night for the rest of my life. I want to sink into him and claim him as mine. Mine, mine, mine. No one else can have him. Ever.
WTF? Had I lost my mind? In the span of an hour, I’d gone from wanting to kill him to wanting to kill any girl who so much as looked at him. I needed therapy and my inner ho-bag needed to be bitch-slapped.
Jack pulled back with supreme effort, putting some distance between us. His breathing was ragged. That’s nothing; I couldn’t even remember how to breathe.
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