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Not that it will stop me.
I climb the stairs and knock on her door.
And then I nearly die.
Because Lia answers in a pair of painted on jeans and skin-tight crop top—not trashy, though. Fancy, with ruffles around the little cap sleeves and the short hem. It makes her boobs look twice as juicy as they do in her FDNY shirt. A pair of sexy high heeled sandals completes the look and forces me to wipe the drool off my chin.
I have plans for her—a dinner date. A serious talk.
Maybe some more heavy petting—I haven’t made my mind up about that, yet. I shouldn’t engage this way. I really can’t let this go any further. This conversation should be about making sure we never touch each other again.
But I already know that’s not gonna happen.
And my plans all go out the fourth story window when I see her. I snatch her up to me, claim her mouth like it’s always been mine. Like she was trying to keep it from me and I need to prove to her exactly who has ownership. And exactly how I intend to exercise my rights.
Her lips are impossibly soft. Supple. Tantalizing. I lick them open and thrust my tongue in her mouth, moving from zero to ninety in these five seconds. She bites my lower lip, gives it back to me. My hand cups her face, the other her squeezable ass. The same ass I got to spank to a pretty pink last night.
I still can’t believe it.
Somehow, I remember my plan. And then I try to forget it, because, damn, she tastes so good.
“I have condoms.” She’s breathless, pulling me inside the still-open door.
Her suggestion is enough to jerk me out of my lust-induced reverie. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait.” I pull away and step back onto her doorstep. “That’s not why I came here.”
“It’s not?” A mask falls over her face and I instantly curse my lack of charm. I never had any game with females. I’m too direct. Too serious. Way too controlling, as my ex-girlfriend Samantha was quick to point out. And I have a tendency to jump into things too fast—a habit Samantha also made me regret.
“Well, maybe it is,” I amend, “but I wanted to take you out. Can I take you out, Sparks?”
Her lips spread into a wide smile. “Sure. Yeah.”
“Let’s go, then. You ready?”
“Yep. She picks up her purse from a hook on the wall. “Where are we going?”
I offer my hand and she takes it—the tough girl from the station replaced by pure sweetness. Her hand feels small, soft. I love having it captured in mine—that she trusts me enough for the simple, but intimate connection. “It’s a surprise,” I say, more than a little nervous about my choice, even though it’s a perfectly nice restaurant. It’s just been a while since I’ve had a date.
Since Samantha moved out and took the kid I helped raise from my life without a backward glance.
Lia comes easily, though. No more questions, no arguments. Just like in her room at the station, she accepts my direction, my dominance. She may be made of sass and spitfire courage, but submission turns her on. I’m sure of it.
The question is—what am I going to do about it?
Cards on the table—I have several lurid ideas. I just know I shouldn’t suggest them.
Dating Lia is totally off-limits. Not only does she work at the station, but I’m her boss. And yet, the idea of shutting whatever’s between us down has me ready to quit my job just to fuck her.
Too fast, dipshit. Way too fast.
I hail a cab downstairs and give the address to an upscale restaurant near my place. She smiles as we’re seated, and I fucking love seeing her face open, her shoulders relaxed. The guys at the station have her on constant edge, ready to defend or prove herself. I hope she doesn’t feel that way with me. I wince a little remembering how gruff I’ve been with her. Yeah, I haven’t done anything to help her feel welcome, have I? It’s just now that she’s let me spank her beautiful ass that I consider her feelings.
“Hey, I’m sorry I’ve been a dick at work,” I say. “I’m not trying to ride your ass, I’ve just been worried—”
“Worried?” she cuts in, the tension returning. I curse myself for screwing this up again.
I hold my palms out. “Not that you can’t do the job. I know you can. I guess you just inspire something protective in me, that’s all. I’m a fucking Neanderthal—what can I say? I worry more about keeping you safe than I do the other assholes.”
Her green eyes narrow and study me. “That’s sexist.”
