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But I can’t take my eyes off her.
She’s fucking perfect.
Chapter Three
Naomi
Not again, Moose?
He can’t want to go out again. Surely.
Then I hear the knock. A cop’s knock if ever I’ve heard one.
Hear them every day in this building, but never on my door.
It’s hardly cold out, but as soon as I see him once I open the door just a little, as soon as I hear his deep voice introducing himself, I feel my nipples stiffen to under my T-shirt.
Sasha never said anything about Officer Parker being a six foot five wall of muscle that just happens to look like he stepped out of a magazine.
The phrase god’s gift to womankind springs to my mind, but not much else.
I’m suddenly awestruck by the man in front of me.
Dumbstruck is more the word.
Moose pushes the door aside once I let the chains off and leaps into his owner’s huge arms, which ripple and flex with a natural strength as he holds the huge dog as if he were still a puppy.
I try to say something, anything. But all I can do is run my eyes up and down his huge body as his dog wriggles with excitement, licking at his face, whining.
Making me wish I could switch with the hound for just a few moments.
To feel those strong hands gripping me so tight, to feel his hard body pressed up against mine…
I only become aware of the silence once Moose calms down enough to be let down, and his master’s eyes are scanning my body much the same way mine were his.
Except I’m nothing to look at. Not in gray sweats and a white T-shirt with holes in it courtesy of Moose the dog, and a stain I hope still looks like marinara sauce.
I feel myself blush once it registers the man’s scrutinizing cop’s stare is solely focused on my body.
I’m shy even on a good day, but when a perfect ten is eyeballing me in my jammies, it’s too much.
Guess I’ll just die then.
He lets out a low sound, almost a growl.
I think for a second that Moose is growling, but he’s panting happily, looking up with loving eyes now that his dad’s come to pick him up.
The man’s lips curl into a satisfied grin on his chiseled face, the ginormous bulge at the front of his pants seems to have shifted as much as my chest has stiffened too.
My head tells me it’s the pleats in his pants, or the light, I try not to stare, but his low sounds only become deeper once he sees me unable to take my eyes off his thickening crotch.
A small, whimpering sound escapes me, and I feel a line of sudden, very hot wetness between my legs as I realize I’ve been pressing them together the whole time.
Something about the man, his presence, his cologne.
That dark hair and even darker eyes.
His everything. Tall, dark, and handsome if ever there was another that walked the earth.
I feel like getting down on all fours myself, barking at him to put a leash on me and make me do whatever he tells me to.
He’s magnificent.
Moose barks loudly, shattering the moment, but his master’s not looking any less pleased with either of us.
Suddenly kneeling down to pet his friend, Officer Parker ruffles Moose’s fur and nuzzles his face into his neck.
“I thought you had a bath, boy?” he murmurs, looking up at me, his penetrating eyes dancing with a friendly question.
“Uh… We had a problem yesterday, Officer Parker,” I stammer, covering my chest with folded arms, trying not to moan loudly once I brush my own bullet-hard nipples with them.
I shiver and feel my knees start to tremble. Like I’m about to burst down there if something doesn’t happen to make this stop.
Or make something happen to relieve this delicious pressure inside me.
He doesn’t skip a beat, only cocking his brow as he seems to inhale the air between us with flared nostrils before giving another of his satisfied growls.
“So I heard,” he remarks. “Is Sasha okay? I’ve been trying to reach her all morning. And you too,” he adds, suddenly looking serious before standing up, looming over me.
Instead of feeling worried, I want him to get closer. I feel like burying myself in those huge arms, holding onto him, and never letting go.
His whole aura just feels so safe, so warm and inviting.
Giving off a definite return signal of whatever it is I’m broadcasting.
My best attempt at flirty-sexy?
I wouldn’t know, I’ve never even tried. But if standing in my doorway, practically whining in my jammies, about to cream my own panties counts, then I’m a fast learner.
“Your address and number in the salon window was a stupid thing to do,” he says suddenly, making me feel a stab of hurt in my heart that until now has been doing somersaults.
