Taming Johnny (9 page)

“Tired?” he asked.

His physical presence had been keeping her distracted for the last several hours. So much so, that she’d forgotten she was usually sawing logs by now. “A little.” She smiled. “I’m gonna run in to use the restroom. Will I see you before you leave?”

“I’ve got some paperwork to finish. I’ll see you inside.”

Emma walked into the PD, her sneakers tapping dully on the floor. The place was totally different in the middle of the night. Only a few officers remained on duty, most of whom were on patrol. All the lights were turned off except those in the squad room and the red ones that lit up the exit signs above the doors. It gave the building a feeling of eerie slumber.

She hit the restroom quickly, not wanting to linger. It gave her the creeps. When she came out, the lieutenant’s light was on in his office.

The door was open a crack and she knocked softly. “Can I come in?”

“Affirm.”

He was sitting at his desk, paperwork stacked neatly beside his computer as usual. He looked tired. Older somehow. She supposed that’s what work like this did to a man. He enjoyed it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t stressful.

“Thanks for letting me ride tonight,” she said.

Leaning back in his chair, he laced his hands behind his head. “You’re welcome. I hope it was good research for that dispatcher’s job.”

“I never said I was going to apply for sure. Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Now why would I want to do that?”

“I don’t know,” she said, looking around his office. “You’ve never taken much of an interest in me until now.”

“Seeing a woman naked has that effect.”

She smiled, but didn’t look at him. She was too interested in a small photograph on his bookshelf. It was new, or at least she’d never seen it there before, wedged in between a bunch of policy manuals and law books. It was of Johnny and two other men whom she didn’t recognize. Family maybe? Friends? Everyone except for Johnny was smiling at the camera, and they were all holding up freshly caught fish. They were tan, their shorts and t-shirts in stark contrast to their bronzed skin. The ocean stretched out behind them, its waves forever frozen inside the frame of the photograph. Johnny looked younger by several years.

Emma leaned forward and squinted at the picture. He had some sort of bandage next to his right eye. Right where the scar was now.

“See something you like?” Johnny’s voice made her jump. Without her even knowing it, he’d come up right behind her. His breath was warm against her neck.

“When was this taken?”

He didn’t say anything right away, and she could tell without turning that he was looking at the photo too. “Years ago.”

“Where?”

“The Gulf of Mexico.”

She nodded. That would explain the tans. The expression on his face in the picture bothered her. It was like looking at a ghost.

“Who are they?” she asked.

“My cousins. Jake and Eli.”

Taller than Johnny, but with the same all-American good looks, they could pass for surfers too. For some reason, Emma felt a peculiar squeeze at her heart. She’d never even known Johnny had any family. It was nice to know he wasn’t all alone.

She could feel him leaning closer. His breath on the side of her neck made her want to melt into a puddle at his feet.

“Tell me, Beaumont. Why are you so intrigued with me? I want to know.”

Taking a deep breath, she was careful not to move. He was within inches. If she turned, she’d have to kiss him right there in his office. Or worse.

“I told you,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, “you’re interesting, Lieutenant.”

“I’ve worked here for years. And no one else cares. Why would you?”

“I think you’re wrong, I think they care. But you’re intimidating. They’re afraid to approach you.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’m afraid to approach you too.”

“But you do anyway.”

His chest brushed her shoulder blades. She could feel the sharp edges of his badge through her shirt.

“I do anyway.”

“Hmm.” Reaching up, he ran the backs of his knuckles down her arm. Delicious goose bumps trailed, leaving her shaking all over.

“You have a way of never really opening up, don’t you, Lieutenant?”

“I like Johnny better.”

“Johnny.”

He responded by moving her hair aside and placing his lips on the nape of her neck. They were incredibly warm and soft, and in sharp contrast to the stubble which prickled her skin. Her pulse sped up, and her breathing quickened. The effect he had was unreal.

Keeping her eyes fixed on the photo, she tilted her head as he made his way up her neck. “When was this?” she asked again.

He paused, withdrawing a few inches. For a second, she thought she’d pushed it too far. That he was going to be angry like he so often was. But instead, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around so she was facing him. Forced to look directly into his eyes, she was struck again by their color and clarity.

“I’d just come back from Iraq.” Looking beyond her to the picture, his face took on an expression of sudden and intense pain. And then it was gone, just like that. Like the flash of a camera.

She touched his chin until he was looking at her again, composed and blank. Whatever she had caught a glimpse of was now gone. She was starting to believe that Johnny Street’s feelings were compartmentalized and hidden away most of the time. Maybe for good reason.

“Your eye,” she said.

He remained stoic. The Johnny she’d always known. “What about it?”

“Right here.” She started to touch the scar, but he jerked away.

“Don’t do that.”

She stared at him, her hand still poised mid-air. “I was just going to ask what happened.”
Shut up, Emma.
She was annoyed with herself. But she really wanted to know and was finding it hard to pretend otherwise.

“Does it matter?”

“To me, it does.”

“Don’t give me that, Beaumont. Why would it?”

“Because. Like it or not, I care about you. I slept with you. I don’t sleep with a lot of guys, despite what you might think. And now I’d like to know more about you. Is that so wrong?”

Pushing her up against the wall, he planted both hands on either side of her head. He reminded her of a cornered animal.

“I don’t do deep and meaningful.”

“I never said you did.”

Ignoring her, he continued, his face growing redder by the second. “So if that’s what you’re looking for, you can save yourself a heap of trouble and walk away right now.”

“I don’t want to walk away.”

“
Why?
” he barked.

She didn’t flinch. “What’s so threatening? Falling in love? Having a relationship with someone who cares for you?”

“You don’t listen, do you? I’m attracted to you. I’d like to fuck you every now and then. I have zero interest in any kind of relationship, with you or anyone else. I like my life the way it is.”

“Empty?”

His jaw twitched, and the veins in his neck began to bulge. He wouldn’t murder her right there in the police department, right? That’d be kind of dumb. He seemed to be wrestling with something internal. Punch the wall or walk away? Still, she kept her chin raised slightly, her eyes on his, refusing to give an inch. And then, shaking his head as if he didn’t know what else to do, he lowered his head and kissed her. Hard. He crushed his lips against hers, his anger and frustration tangible.

She kissed him back, just as hard, and wrapped her arms around his neck. The sharp edges of his duty belt and radio pressed into her hip. She had imagined this moment roughly a thousand times before, but never could have known he’d taste this good. She was dying to hear him say her name, or for a tender word of some kind.
Any kind.
Anything to be reassured that it wasn’t just a quick fuck like he’d said it was. Because, like it or not, she recognized the feeling that was being born inside of her. It was bittersweet and threatened to break her stupid heart in a thousand little pieces. It was the distinct feeling of falling in love. And not being loved back.

Emma tilted her head to the side as he kissed the most tender part of her neck, right behind her ear. She gasped, unable to help it. He did things to her that made her feel like a different person, someone who wasn’t scared. Someone who wanted to give in to her desires for the first time in her life. The Emma Beaumont everyone else knew wouldn’t dream of boning her boss in his office. That Emma played by the rules and was a nice girl who wasn’t attracted to men who were rough around the edges. And Johnny was really, really rough around the edges. Kind of like a chain saw. If she kept this up, she was going to get hurt. Badly.

Pushing all those thoughts aside, she reached down and cupped the bulge in his pants. He dropped his head to her collarbone, not making a sound. His shoulders were tense, his grip on her hips just a little too tight. She wondered briefly what it would be like to see him part with that impeccable control of his, even if only for a few seconds. It scared her and excited her all at the same time, and a slow pulse built between her legs.

“Not here, Beaumont.”

She moved her hair away from her face, trying to catch her breath. “My place?”

He seemed to think about it for a second before nodding slowly. “Meet you there.”

* * * *

Johnny followed her through town with her little Jetta leading the way. When he pulled up in front of her apartment, she was already climbing the steps to her door. He jammed his truck into park, unable to take his eyes off her shapely ass. Honestly, he’d intended for the ride-along to be just that, nothing more. But where Emma Beaumont was concerned, things had a way of spiraling out of control. Fast.

Knowing it wasn’t a good idea, knowing he was getting in deeper by the second, he stepped out of the truck and slammed the door behind him. He climbed the steps two-by-two and knocked on the half open door.

“In here!” she called. “Just give me one second.”

The only light was coming from a small lamp in the corner. The apartment was seductively dim, the air conditioning cool on his skin. He tossed his keys on the end table and leaned against the couch, waiting. What was it Eli used to say?
Never pass up a chance to tell a woman she’s gorgeous. You’ll rack up the points.

He should have told her that night in the hotel. She’d been self-conscious. That’s probably why most of the lights remained off now. But if he ever did tell her, it wouldn’t be to rack up any points. It would be because it was the truth.

She peeked around the corner and gave him a shy smile. “I’m ready.”

Pushing off the couch, he made his way toward her.

When he turned the corner, she was standing in the middle of the room, wearing a black nighty. Nothing skimpy, it came down mid-thigh and only showed a hint of the swell of her breasts. But she looked incredible in it. Her long hair hung in rich waves past her shoulders and the lace trim of the nighty accentuated her buttermilk skin. She looked a thousand times hotter than anything he’d ever seen in Victoria’s Secret, and for a second he just stood there staring.

She shrugged, running an awkward hand over her hip. He couldn’t see if her cheeks were red, it was too dark, but he was guessing they were. “I’ve had it for a while. Thought you might like it.” She wouldn’t look at him when she said it and something inside him broke a little at that.

“Come here, Beaumont,” he said.

She took a few steps forward until she was standing within touching distance. She’d seemed confident at the PD, like she’d known what she’d wanted. But here, in her own room, she seemed scared of him. Or scared of what he represented, maybe.

Instead of saying anything, he reached out and pulled her close. She smelled sweet, like some kind of summer flower he couldn’t put his finger on. He kissed her jaw until she tilted her head back, and then went to work on her neck. She was shaking. He could hear the breath hitch in her throat.

“Are you sure?” he whispered. “I can stop now.”

“No, Johnny.” She shook her head, her hair brushing against his face. “Don’t stop.”

And there it was again. His name coming from those lips. It rolled off her tongue in such a way that made it sound exotic and fevered.

Very slowly, he ran his hands down the length of her, feeling the nighty slide under his palms like warm water. He bent to grab it at the hem and pulled it up. She raised her arms and it came off in a whisper of dark fabric, leaving her completely naked in front of him. Her pale breasts hung heavy and full, her hips curving seductively with the rest of her.

Cupping a breast in one hand, he leaned down to close his mouth over her peaked nipple. She buried her hands in his hair and moaned. He was trying to be gentle this time, trying not to rush it. But hearing her reaction was almost too much to take. He pushed her toward the bed until she backed up against it and sank into a sitting position. She stared up at him, her mouth partially open, her tongue pink and wet against her teeth.

“Are you going to take your clothes off?” she asked softly. He was still in uniform and he’d almost forgotten the Glock on his hip. He took his duty belt off and put it on the dresser, but didn’t bother with anything else.

He reached for her face, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Lean back,” he said.

After a second, she did as she was told, lying down, but keeping her feet on the plush, ivory carpet. Kneeling down, he opened her knees, which were shaking a little, and moved between them, noticing for the first time her delicate pink toenails. Everything about this woman was turning out to be seductive.
Everything.

He leaned in and kissed the soft mound of honey colored curls between her legs. Her stomach twitched and she drew in a sharp breath. Smiling, he kissed her again, this time lower. She clutched the bedspread on either side of his head, balling the fabric in her fists. If she was enjoying it, he could relate.

Moving lower, he flicked his tongue over her swollen pink bud.

“Oh my God,” she said, turning her face into the spread and shutting her eyes.

He did it again, but this time spread her lips open with his thumbs, tasting her until her hips were arching off the bed. His dick strained at the front of his pants, making him ache from the inside out. He struggled to keep his composure, tried to think about anything other than taking her right then.
Baseball, baseball, baseball.