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“Oh!” she cries out, leaning back with one hand supporting her on the bar as the other rests on my shoulder. I feel the bite of her nails into my skin and take it as a sign that I’m getting to her, especially as I feel her hips buck on the bar, searching for my cock.
Shoving the other triangle of her thin bra down, I give that mound some love and attention too. I lay worshipping kisses all over her exposed body, breasts, chest, neck, shoulders, then work my way back up to her mouth.
My hands go to her thighs as we kiss, squeezing and kneading the warm satin skin I find there. Getting higher and higher, my thumbs are on the edge of her pussy beneath her shorts. Her ankles wrap around my legs, holding me in place as if I have anywhere else I’d rather be right now. I can feel the heat of her core, am right on the edge of testing her wetness beneath her panties—going slow be damned—when a loud bang on the door interrupts us.
“Willow? You good?” a voice booms.
“What the fuck?” I mutter, instantly on alert.
Willow jumps off the bar, yanking her bra and shirt back in place as she strides to the door. I beat her there, covering the distance in furious strides. I throw an arm out, keeping her behind me with a forceful look. It’s two in the morning and no one should be bothering her. The very idea makes my blood run ice-cold. Great Falls is safe, but Willow is precious. She looks at me wryly, likely thinking my protectiveness is unnecessary, but I couldn’t tone it down if I wanted to.
“Who is it?” she calls out.
“Chief Gibson. Doing a drive by and saw the lights still on and your car outside. Open the door.” His voice changes from congenial to authoritative.
“Oh, okay,” Willow says, looking at me in amusement as I step back to give her the space I couldn’t a second ago.
She twists the lock that Ilene closed when she left and cracks the door open. “Hi, Chief. I’m good, just . . . working late.”
She can’t lie to save her ass and Chief Gibson hears it. He pushes in, taking a few steps inside, but freezes when he sees me.
“Bobby.”
“Chief Gibson.”
He looks from me to Willow and back, seeming to fight a smile in favor of his blank ‘cop face’. Well, this particular cat’s out of the bag. By sunrise, the whole town will think the chief busted us having wild sex in the middle of Hank’s, no doubt.
“So, I guess you’re all good then, Willow?” he says, not bothering to hide his grin now that any fears he had have been allayed.
She nods. “Yeah. Uh, all good. We were just leaving.”
Doing his job, the chief turns back to me once more. “You been drinking tonight, son?”
I’m not his son, but I’m not going to piss him off by correcting him. “Yep, had a Girly Beer around eight and a draft around nine. Nothing since but dinner and Sprite. Ilene’s chicken fried steak sandwich was delicious.”
He takes my measure, looking me up and down. I’ve never been a heavy drinker, saw too much of that with Dad for it to have any appeal, but it’d take a whole lot more than a couple of drinks several hours ago to affect me in the slightest, especially at my size. “Damn, wish I’d gotten one of those sandwiches. I’ll have to swing by tomorrow and see if I can snag one myself.”
He touches the brim of his hat and dips his chin. “You kids have a good night, y’hear?”
“Yes sir,” Willow says.
I grunt an agreement, still a bit put out that he interrupted us. But it is good to know that he’s keeping an eye on the place and my girl.
Closing the door, Willow spins in place and puts her back against it. She’s breathing hard like we got busted doing something wrong, but what we were up to was so, so right.
“Oh, my God. That was terrifying.” She does look a bit mortified, but the way her eyes are dancing, she doesn’t seem too upset about it. She actually looks . . . invigorated.
I crowd in, pressing her against the door. “Yeah, terrifying,” I agree dryly.
She laughs. “Okay, Mr. Bad Boy, maybe not for you. But I’m a good girl, and usually invisible. Certainly not used to having the cops bang down my door when I’m in the middle of . . .”
Her voice trails off like she’s not sure how to describe what we were doing, and I’m now certain that no one has ever dirty talked to my sweet Willow. And I’m even more certain that she hasn’t dirty talked either.
“Foreplay?” I suggest.
Her cheeks pinken adorably.
