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I’m not saying that I lacked in female company, but I was old enough now to want more than a quick release, a thank you, and a goodbye.
I wanted someone permanent. I wanted someone to wear my collar. Someone I could own, someone I could love, someone I could spoil and cherish. The kind of woman that would enjoy me being bossy both in and out of the bedroom. A woman who wouldn’t find me overbearing and smothering, but who would rather blossom and grow beneath my attention. She would have enough fire and sass to stand up to me when she needed to, and that would make her submission all the sweeter. A loving-to-the-core princess who would fill my life with giggles and soft, feminine sighs.
My flip flops smacked as they hit the concrete sidewalk that ran the length of the beach in either direction. There were a few early morning joggers out, so I gave a familiar pair of runners a chin lift as they puffed by and waved. Having both grown up and spent most of my time as a police officer patrolling this suburb west of LA, I was familiar with a lot of the regulars. A warm wind from the direction of the city blew my hair back with the heat of an open oven as the clear skies promised another hot day.
After rinsing myself and my gear off at the outdoor shower, I was getting ready to put my shirt on when a slender feminine hand grabbed my own from behind in a surprisingly tight grip.
“Oh, honey, there you are!” a woman’s voice said in an unusually high, frightened tone that set my cop radar buzzing. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Turning, I found myself looking down into the face of a slender woman with deep honey brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her face was a little unusual, her chin narrower than most women’s, giving her an almost foxlike look that went well with her strong cheekbones. She barely came up to my shoulders and her hazel green eyes glittered with starbursts of brown surrounding the pupil. Big eyes that were filled with worry. Sweat beaded her forehead, and her pink and blue tank top was damp as well, but it was the desperate look that she gave me that had me instinctively pulling her closer.
Relief had her nearly sagging into me as I put my arm around her shoulder and said loudly, “Hey, babe. You ready to go?”
“Yep, done with my run.” She looked behind her, and I followed her gaze to a big man wearing black jogging clothes watching us with a frown I didn’t like. “It was a little crowded today, but I’m ready to go.”
“Let me grab my board,” I said. I kept my eyes on the guy—he slowly backed away from us before he turned and jogged back the direction they’d come from.
Once he’d disappeared behind a stand of palm trees further down the winding path, the woman next to me began to shake hard enough that I led her over to a cement bench near the showers and sat down with her. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she said in a teary voice, giving me an embarrassed smile as she scrubbed her red cheeks. “I’m so sorry for bothering you. Thank you. You must think I’m a crazy woman.”
The wind whipped her ponytail behind her, and I noticed for the first time that she had a small but elaborate floral tattoo on her right shoulder. Out of years of habit built in the police force, I gave her a quick scan from head to toe. She was slender but toned, and she wasn’t wearing any jewelry—including no wedding ring. Her shoulders had a light smattering of freckles, and the familiar scent of coconut sunblock came from her skin. Her floral jogging pants fit a pair of well-toned legs, and her left thigh had a slight bulge from what I guessed was her phone. A pair of hot pink headphones with little kittens painted on the buds hung from around her flushed neck.
At first, I thought she was in her early twenties, but as I looked closer, I realized she was closer to twenty-six, maybe older, based on the faint lines around her expressive eyes. She was just one of those women who looked younger than they were, the opposite of me. My time in the police force had aged me and spending every free moment of my life surfing beneath the glaring California sun had done my skin no favors. Though I wasn’t quite forty yet, I’d had people guess my age anywhere from forty-five to fifty.
Her hazel eyes met mine, the fear back in them, and my heart gave a little lurch that had me clearing my throat. “You sure you’re all right? Did that man threaten you?”
