Moving_Violations (10 page)

Even without the uniform, Jackson knew he presented an imposing figure and had earned respect. Sometimes, a fair but hard-nosed attitude kept order a hell of a lot easier than a big stick.

He entered the loud atmosphere of the building. The bar packed to capacity, and more than a little rowdy. Thankfully, the owner kept a few cousins around just in case things got out of hand.

“Hey, Tank,” Jackson greeted one of the largest. Seven feet of rough, dumb muscle.

Tank’s wide face split into a grin, his nut-brown skin stretching across his homely face as Jackson walked by.

“Hey, Jackson. You see that pretty deputy of yours tonight? Whooey, she’s a damned pretty site.”

Jackson stopped, turning back to the bouncer with a questioning look.

“Becca’s here?” he asked. Damn her, she was supposed to be at home resting.

“Nursing her a drink in the far corner,” Tank informed him, beefy hands gesturing to the back of the bar. “That woman done tangled with a wildcat, but she’s still pretty as hell.”

Jackson shook his head at the woman’s stubbornness.

“Thanks, Tank, I’ll go see if I can haul her home.”

“You do that, Jackson. She don’t look up to a crowd, if you ask me.” Tank could be dumb, real dumb. But he had smarts where it counted.

Jackson moved quickly through the bar, heading for the far corner, knowing the only private place to be found in the Wild Rose. The dimly lit booth in the back was often used for heated embraces and public copulations rather than one lone sheriff’s deputy nursing a hell of a headache and a possible concussion. The blaring music from the jukebox wasn’t as sharp there, and the waitress paid little attention to the occupants so Jackson was more than surprised to see one of them setting a fresh drink on the table and moving away quickly. He caught her as she passed him and ordered a drink himself before moving toward the booth once again.

And there Becca sat, that wild hair falling below her shoulders, her face bruised and pale.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He slid into the seat across from her, watching as she raised her head slowly, her eyes narrowing as she stared at him.

“Avoiding you,” she sighed in defeat.

Jackson leaned back against the seat, fighting his grin.

“So why not avoid me in the comfort of your home?” he asked her, bracing his elbows on the table as he leaned closer. “Makes more sense than sitting here in the dark with a headache.”

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“I don’t have a headache,” she lied. He could see the stress marking her face. He knew she had a headache.

“What did the doctor say?” He had nearly called the doctor himself to get the report.

She mumbled something, and he was certain he misunderstood what she said.

“Repeat that, carefully,” he bit out. “I didn’t hear you right.”

“You heard me just fine,” she bit out. “I didn’t go to the doctor. I’ve been hit on the head before. I know what a concussion feels like. I don’t have one.”

Jackson frowned.

“You have a headache and you’re pale—”

“I’m just bruised and I’m pissed off,” she bit out, lifting the glass to her lips.

Jackson watched as she sipped heavily at the drink.

“Are you driving tonight?” he asked her cautiously.

Rebecca sighed. “No, I’m not driving. I came in with Bryan. He’s around somewhere.”

She waved her hand absently after delivering that shocking statement. Jackson didn’t like the tight bite of jealousy that attacked his mind like a ravenous wolf. Damn kid. He just didn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

“Well, you’re leaving with me,” he announced firmly, hoping he wasn’t leaving any room for argument. Damn woman was too stubborn. “Come on, let’s go.”

He stood to his feet, staring down at her as he held his hand out to her.

“Why are we leaving?” she asked him suspiciously. “I told you, Jackson, I’m not having sex with you anymore.”

“You didn’t like my sex, Becca?” he asked her, grinning slow and easy. He knew damned well she liked it. She screamed when she climaxed, that was a hell of an indication.

Her eyes narrowed, glittering dangerously.

Jackson sighed roughly.

“Fine, no sex. But you feel like hell, hon. I can see it. I’ll just take you home and tuck you in nice and safe where you can rest.” He wondered if he should be crossing his fingers over that lie. It was a whopper. If there was a chance of getting into Ree-Becca’s pants tonight, then he wasn’t about to let it go by.

The thought of all that smooth, satiny skin, the tight hot grip of her cunt clenching around his cock like a velvet fist, had him hardening immediately. Uh oh. He watched as Becca glanced at the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Ignore him.” He shrugged. “He has a mind of his own. He knows who the boss is, though.”

Yeah, the boss was that tight little vagina that could clench and milk and make him beg for mercy. Jackson suppressed his groan. Damn, it was going to be a long night if she didn’t make her mind up here soon.

“Fine.” Rebecca lifted her purse from beside her, slapped some money on the table and rose to her feet. “I need to let Bryan know I’m leaving, though.”

50

Moving Violations

Jackson looked around the bar. There was Bryan, his smile turned on a pretty little blonde that gazed up at him with just enough hard edge to have him feeling sorry for the kid. Jackson caught the deputy’s eye, and gestured to Rebecca. Bryan nodded.

“Taken care of.” Jackson gripped her elbow as she came to her feet. “Come on, Cinderella, let’s take you home before you fall on your glass slippers.”

“Smartass,” she muttered.

Jackson grinned. He moved her quickly through the bar, then into the sultry, humid air of a Tennessee summer night. Becca moved slowly beside him, letting him lead for a change as they walked to his truck. He unlocked her door, helping her in, then locked her in securely before moving to his own side.

The night was quiet, dark. The drive to her house wasn’t a long one, giving Jackson little time to try to decide the best way to get her to invite him into the house. Damn, he was dying to taste Becca’s heat again.

“You aren’t coming in,” she announced as they pulled up in front of her house.

Jackson winced.

“I’ll see you to the door at least, Becca.”

“Do you have a thing against my name?” She flashed him an angry look. “How many times do I have to keep telling you, it’s Ree-becca?”

Jackson sighed. Damn, that headache must be a bad one.

“You are a chauvinist,” she suddenly announced, her brows lifting over glassy green eyes. “That’s why you refuse to use my name.”

“No, ma’am.” He smiled at her temperamental expression. “I’m no chauvinist. “

“Then why?” she questioned him roughly. “Give me one good reason why you can’t call me by my name.”

“Takes too long.” He shrugged, anticipating the fireworks.

“Excuse me?” Astonishment covered her expression.

“Well.” He turned so he faced her, one arm over the steering wheel, the other laying along the back of the seat as he watched her. “It’s like this, sugar, I get kinda short on breath just remembering how hot and tight that sweet little pussy of yours was. I can’t get all those syllables in your name out of my mouth. So we’re stuck with Becca.”

Her mouth dropped open and she blinked in angry amazement.

“That’s ridiculous,” she muttered crossing her arms over her breasts.

“Naw, that’s just horny,” he sighed. “Real bad horny, sugar. I can’t forget how good it was. Have you forgotten?”

Oh no, she hadn’t forgotten. It was there in the sudden flush of her cheeks, the over bright awareness in her eyes. She remembered, and she wanted more. He knew she did.

Because he was burning alive for it, and refused to consider he was in it alone.

“Sure you don’t want to invite me in?” His hand moved until his fingers were touching the softness of her hair. “I have a great cure for a headache.”

He watched her, mentally begging the good Lord above that she would give in and say yes. At the rate he was going, he was going to expire from lust. Hell of a way for a man with a hard dick to have to go. And the part that really irked him, mindless, 51

Lora Leigh and Veronica Chadwick

stubborn bastard that his cock was, that it refused to consider any other warm wet haven than that of Becca’s. He was addicted. He sighed, forlorn.

“You’re moving too fast for me, Jackson,” she whispered, shaking her head, suddenly serious. “I thought I remembered things moving slow and easy in the South? I need some space.”

Jackson shrugged. Hell. A woman that had to think about it first.

“That’s fine too, sugar,” he said easily, though he wanted to grit his teeth. “Come on, let me walk you to your door and do the gentleman thing here so we can both get some sleep. It’s been a hell of a day for you.”

He got out of the car and moved quickly to the passenger side. Opening the door there, he reached in to grip her arm lightly and help her out. She was warm, and soft. He suppressed his groan. Dammit, he wasn’t going to beg.

Her porch light was on, as was a light in her little kitchen. The house looked homey, safe.

“Got your key?” They paused by the door.

Rebecca nodded as she pulled her key chain out of her purse and fitted the key into the lock. Opening the door, she paused on the threshold.

“Thanks for bringing me home, Jackson,” she said softly. Her cultured voice, soft and sweet, washed over his aroused body.

“Yeah well, I might have had a reason other than just your comfort in mind.” He grinned down at her, watching the answering amusement that came to her eyes. “Go on to bed, sugar. You’re worn out.”

He bent to give her a soft, gentle kiss goodnight. His lips lingered, though, sipping at the soft curves of her lips as his body heated. Damn, she tasted fine, he thought. Soft and silky and damned hot. His hand cupped the side of her head, his tongue tracing her lips, staying light, gentle. She was tired and sore, and he knew she felt she needed space.

He could give her space. Sure he could.

His tongue slid slowly past her lips, dipping into her mouth as she whispered a sigh of longing against him. Her hands were at his chest, her fingers splayed flat over the white cotton of his shirt as her head tilted for him, her lips opening as her tongue touched his. She tasted as sweet as candy. As hot as fire, and he knew he could never get enough.

Jackson forced his body back from her, groaning in torment. Damn, he was sinking fast.

“Get your ass in that house before I fuck you on the porch,” he sighed, shaking his head. “If you need me tonight, call.”

“Thank you, Jackson.” There was a world of weariness in her tone.

“You’re welcome, Becca.”

“Ree-becca,” she reminded him with a frown.

“Whatever.” He shrugged, grinning when irritation flashed over her expression.

“Go, woman, so I can head home. My cold shower awaits me.”

Rolling her eyes, she went into the house, closing the door firmly then turning the lock. Jackson breathed out roughly.

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Moving Violations

“Damn woman,” he muttered, turning and walking back to his truck. Some nights just had to be harder than others.

53

Lora Leigh and Veronica Chadwick

Chapter Eleven

The morning was proving to be a good one, made even better by the fact that she had the whole day free. She especially liked having at least one day off in the middle of the week. Fewer people meant she could get her shopping done faster and possibly get some things done at home.

The day was going to be another scorcher. It felt so much better to be out of that hot, navy polyester uniform and in her cool shorts and a tank top. Her headache was gone but she was still a bit tired. Jackson’s kiss had made it hard to fall asleep. That damned talented mouth of his…she shivered at the memories that flitted through her brain.

Rebecca shook her head. No, she had too much to do to get caught up in erotic daydreams. She yanked on the cart with one final energetic jerk, freeing it from the others. Groceries, she needed to focus on groceries. Her cabinets were bare and so was her fridge. A salad sounded good for lunch, simple and quick and no cooking…no cooking was always good. She might have salad for dinner too. She smiled to herself.

Man, the Piggly Wiggly was sadly lacking when it came to fresh produce, but she managed to find what she needed and moved on. If she got all the errands and stuff done, tonight she’d be able to relax and she really, really needed to relax. A hot bubble bath and a good book would be heaven.

Her first week had not turned out as she imagined it would. Her little indiscretions with Jackson had really screwed things up. The tension at work with Jackson’s not so subtle innuendos and double-entendres was enough to drive her mad. He’d get close enough that she’d felt his breath on her neck and the heat radiate from that hard, imposing body of his. Every brush of his hand, every stolen kiss, was making it harder and harder for her to remain impassive, to keep her wits about her. And as if that wasn’t enough, her fellow officers had been acting like spoiled little teenage boys.

Oh, Bryan was okay. Such a nice guy, he was ever the peacemaker. If it hadn’t been for him, the past week would have been hell. Officers Ed Martin and Roby Davis, however, were another story. They only acknowledged her existence when they had no other recourse. This latest fiasco was proof of that. What a pair those two were, damn obnoxious assholes. She smiled, indulging briefly in a violent fantasy that had her standing over the repentant and respectful cops after she’d beaten the crap out of them.

CRASH

“Oh. Sorry…” Rebecca looked up and groaned inwardly.

“Well, hey there, Becca. Ya know, hon…” He leaned over a bit, pretending to whisper. “You shouldn’t fantasize about me while operating any kind of vehicle.“ He frowned and shook his head. “Dangerous, way too dangerous. “

“Ha, ha, ha.” She made a face. “Get out of my way.”

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Moving Violations