Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Andrew frowned. “That’s different.”
“Why? Because you’re a cop, so you think you automatically have the moral high ground?” She snorted. “News flash, Andrew, there are plenty of crooked cops out there. Just ask Curly.”
“If you’re so critical, why the hell did you join the force?” he snapped.
She stared out her window. Why had she joined the force? What a question. One whose answer went back to her childhood when her father would drop her off at school in his police cruiser, and she wished she could spend the day with him making the world a better place. As she got older and realized her family would never approve of their precious baby girl becoming a police officer, she dug her heels in and decided it was what she wanted to do. Full stop.
So she did it. Eventually.
And after many years of living out her mother’s dreams through pageants and her ex-fiancé’s dreams for her to have a career in modeling, it felt great to do something she’d always wanted to do, even if it wasn’t perfect.
The rest of their shift sucked. Andrew barely spoke to her, and after a few failed attempts at conversation, she gave up. Why should she be the one to keep extending olive branches when he’d pissed her off just as much as she’d apparently angered him?
They were called to a noise disturbance at a house party near the local community college. After breaking up a drunken fight, one of the underaged party animals vomited all over her pants. While Andrew dealt with him, she’d gone in the house to search for a sink. Before she had the chance to clean up, screams of horror had her sprinting into the backyard only to find someone passed out face down in the pool. One intense rescue and an ambulance ride later, the girl was being treated in the local ER. At least she’d remained breathing throughout the ordeal.
The night ended with them pulling over a man going a hundred miles per hour in his Corvette. He’d screamed the vilest insults she’d ever heard because she had the audacity to ask him for his license and registration. Spittle had hit her face, making her fantasize about dragging the man through the window by his ear and leaving him on the side of the road as she drove off in the beautiful Corvette he didn’t deserve to own.
All in all, a stellar day at the office.
So spectacular that by the time she got home at eleven o’clock, showered, and grabbed a beer, she was feeling raw, lonely, and needy.
A terrible combination for someone who’d had the best sex of their life three days ago with a man they didn’t know but whose phone number was in her phone. Right there. Just a few taps away.
After forty-five minutes spent listing all the reasons calling Fin would be a huge mistake, she added horny to the list of sensations coursing through her. Instead of deterring her from going back for more, all thoughts of him did was remind her how good he tasted. And how good those skillful artist’s hands felt all over her body. And how that playful tongue had driven her wild. And how—
“Shit,” she muttered as she picked up this phone. “This is a huge mistake.”
Midnight on a Friday? The guy was probably balls deep in some other woman.
Or he’d think she wanted to date him.
Or he’d turn her down. It wasn’t as though he’d asked for her number.
Or she’d find out he sold illicit drugs out of his tattoo shop.
There were a million ways this could blow up in her face.
Did any of those sound, logical concerns stop her from calling him?
No, they did not.
CHAPTER FOUR
“SORRY, DARLIN’,” TRACKER said as he tipped his beer to his lips. “Ain’t gonna happen tonight.”
The woman pushed her shiny lips out in an exaggerated pout. “You sure?” she practically purred. “I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t let you do to me. Oh, by the way, I’m Alicia.”
He chuckled. Alicia really was sexy. Big tits, full lips, very enthusiastic—if what Lock said was true—and she was right there, ready and willing. Maybe he was coming down with something because Tracker couldn’t muster up a lick of interest.
“I know who you are. Your reputation precedes you,” he said with a wink. As the words left his mouth, he realized they might be offensive, though he hadn’t meant it that way. But Alicia preened as though he’d given her the sweetest of compliments.
Jo would have kicked him in the nuts for implying he’d slept with enough of her friends to have made a name for herself. And that was the tenth time in as many hours that he found himself thinking about the sexy cop who’d rocked his world a few nights ago.
He’d assumed she would have called by now. But, nope, it’d been crickets, and he couldn’t figure out why. He’d given her his best moves. The woman had come four times in a few hours, for Christ’s sake. Who wouldn’t want more of that? He sure as fuck did. And, of course, he needed to worm his way into her head so she’d share details from the department. Hard to do if she never called. Maybe he needed to accidentally bump into her again.