Page 9 of His Favorite Mistake

“Never mind. Get in.” I took the guitar case out of her hand. Feeling her gaze on me, I opened the back door and put it gently on the seat.

Apparently satisfied that I wasn’t going to rough up her prize instrument, she nodded and slipped into the passenger seat, drawing her mile-long legs up and tucking them in.

I tried not to stare. Tried not to feel the pulse of blood in my cock as I visually traced the zipper from the back of her calf to her foot.

“Problem, officer?”

Her voice was silky. Too silky for my liking, because she still thought she had the upper hand.

Time to show her otherwise.

I shut the back door. “Detective,” I corrected, giving her a quick, disarming smile. It was the one I’d used dozens of times on perps to get them to let down their guard. “Ex-detective.”

She caught her breath and smiled back. “As you wish.”

My smile fell away. “What do you have on under that dress?”

Most other women either would’ve cursed at me for being so forward or they would’ve come back at me with a sexy response. Peyton just screwed up her mouth and appeared to think over the question. “I’m not sure, actually. I was more concerned with the wrapping than the box and this dress is new—” She broke off as I smiled, genuinely this time. “What?”

“I’m concerned enough with the box for both of us, Rulebreaker.”

She flushed. “You have a filthy mouth to go with the filthy mind.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“Will I get to?”

“So eager.” I touched her face again, just a quick skim of my fingers over her cheek. “I imagine in your life you’ve been with all kinds of men.”

“I wish. Mostly self-indulgent rockstars and the occasional accountant who worked for the label.”

The disparaging way she dismissed being with rockstars made me smother a grin. “How about ex-detectives? Ever been with one of those?”

Her flush deepened. “Not a one,” she said softly, cupping her hand over mine against her face. “I’m hoping to change that tonight.”

My heart skipped a beat. Or three. I might’ve been annoyed at my reaction, if not for the fact that it had been more than a year since I’d had a girlfriend…or sex.

I didn’t date, ever. My interests were such that it usually didn’t take me long to find out I’d be incompatible in the bedroom with someone new. Little Miss Pop Star didn’t fit neatly in line with the needs I’d turned my back on, but I didn’t intend to fully let them out of the box anyway.

I’d just crack the lid a little and offer her a taste.

There was another taste I wanted more than my next breath. But I’d never take that step without making sure she was on the same page.

I glanced in the direction of the Porsche just as the tow truck hauled it down the street. Steve was already gone.

Shifting my gaze back to Peyton, I let my thumb drop to her lower lip and gave it a quick, firm stroke. She gasped as if I’d licked her nipple.

Something else I wanted to do. Fiercely.

“May I kiss you?”

I waited for her nod of acknowledgement before I pulled her around sideways on the seat. She startled, eyes going wide. They only went wider when I planted a hand on her belly and pushed her backward, looming over her until she got the message to recline on the seat. She went to her elbows, parting her legs instinctively.

Still not far enough for me.

I pushed up her dress and wrenched her thighs apart, nearly going cross-eyed at the polka dot panties that awaited me. White on black. So freaking sweet.

“You’re going to kill me, baby girl.”

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