Officer in Pursuit (38 page)

Pleasure rolled through her, crashed
down on her. If it hadn’t been for him holding her up, she would’ve
collapsed.

He held her steady though, pulled her
up tight against him as he rocked her entire body. She’d never felt
anything so good. Ever.

When the searing pleasure faded she
was left with a lingering sense of bliss and exhaustion, plus the
hard presence of his cock deep inside her. He hadn’t come yet, but
she could tell he was about to, could tell he’d been holding
himself back, fighting not to lose control.

He groaned with the next stroke, like
giving up his hold on restraint was a deep pleasure in and of
itself.

It must’ve been – he moved with more
purpose after that, with an unbridled energy that had her nerves
sparking again, her skin tingling. Though she’d just come twice,
the pleasure this position gave was inescapable; she gasped every
time he hit her g-spot, every time his hips slammed against her
ass.

When he came he cried out and slammed
into her, hard. Harder than before, harder than ever. She gasped as
he poured himself into her, reminding her of her recent climax with
every stroke. Her pussy seized up, gripping him tight.

In the end he was still for a little
while, held her against him without moving for a few seconds before
he pulled out and lowered her back onto the bed.

He joined her there, pressed a hand
against her jaw and guided her gaze until she met his eyes. “I
always thought New Year’s resolutions were bullshit, but that was
literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He slipped a hand between her legs and
gently teased her pussy lips, making her moan, almost making her
forget what she’d been about to say.

She remembered when she opened her
eyes. “About your resolutions – I know that was one of them, but
what about the other?”

“What, convincing you that we should
move in together?”

“Yeah, that.”

“What about it?”

“That’s done too – I’m convinced.
Actually, that’s what I meant when I said you could check one of
your resolutions off your list, back before you cuffed
me.”

His gaze searched hers, and she felt
herself getting hot again. With pleasure, but not necessarily the
sexual kind.

“Really – you’re ready?” he
asked.

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate, because
she was sure. “I love you and I’ll take all the time with you I can
get. All the handcuff sex, too. Let’s do it.”

He placed his hands on her hips and
pulled her close against him. “I’m never going to get enough of
you, but I look forward to trying and I think this’ll make it
easier.”

Every inch of her burned with
pleasure. She could feel his heart beating and could feel her own
speeding, too.

“It’s only December
31
^st
and I’ve already fulfilled all my New Year’s resolutions.
What the hell am I going to do with my year now?”

“I thought part of the deal was that
we were going to do this at every opportunity.” She pressed her
wrists against him so that he could feel the cool metal cuffs
against his chest.

“Yeah, well, there’s that.”

He kissed her deeply, sweeping his
tongue into her mouth, making her forget what year it was, what
day. At midnight they’d start a new year with another kiss like
this one, and it would be her first year without the shadow of her
past hanging over her, without any secrets. Without a broken heart
that ached for love to fill in the cracks.

It would be perfect.

Men in uniform,
suspense and Southern heat – there’s more Lock and Key on the
way.

Jeremy’s story is coming
next.

Look for Lock and Key #4 in ebook and
paperback soon.

Want to be notified via e-mail when
Book 4 releases? Sign up for the Lock and Key Series new release
notification list.

Click
here to subscribe at ranaerose.com

* * * * *

Other titles currently available in the
Lock and Key Series…

Officer Next Door (Lock and
Key, #1)

Officer out of Uniform (Lock
and Key, #2)

What did you think of Kerry and Grey’s
story? Please consider sharing your thoughts via a
review.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ranae Rose is the
best-selling author of more than twenty adult romances and
counting. Originally from Maryland, she grew up the daughter of a
US Marine and always wanted to be a writer. Today she lives on the
US East Coast with her man in uniform, young children, German
Shepherd dogs and overflowing bookshelves.
Writing and reading are lifelong passions that consume most
of her time, and she’s always working on bringing her latest love
story idea to life for readers.

www.ranaerose.com

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including updates on the Lock and Key Series and access to
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Love men in uniform? Read
on for an excerpt from Ranae’s best-selling romance Dedicated
Ink.

Dedicated Ink

A one night stand has never gone so
wrong … or so right. Two months after one scorchingly hot July
night, tattoo artist Abby is pregnant and the man who showed her
everything she’d been missing is nowhere in sight. When he walks
into the Hot Ink Tattoo Studio looking for much more than some new
ink, she risks their rekindled connection by confessing that she’s
pregnant … with his twins.

Sworn to serve and protect, Pittsburgh
police officer Sam isn’t one to back down from responsibility, and
he’s definitely not going to let the woman who’s been haunting his
dreams all summer get away again. But two babies on the way means a
reunion that’s anything but what he imagined. Can unforgettable
chemistry evolve into real love before her due date
arrives?

An Inked in the Steel City Series
Romance

Read on for an
excerpt…

CHAPTER 1

Blue lines and frantic heartbeats –
they were all Abby could think about as she sat the plastic stick
down on the edge of the bathroom sink, then clasped her hands in
front of her hips, unsteady fingers entwined. She didn’t dare look
away as the white area inside the first test window darkened, going
grey as if a storm cloud was passing over it.

That was exactly how she felt, too:
unbearably nervous, caught beneath the long shadow of looming
possibilities. Another few seconds and she’d know. Then, she’d
either breathe a sigh of relief or … or what? Her heart marked each
long moment as a shape materialized in the first murky
window.

A horizontal blue line – the control
line. It meant the test was working, nothing more. And there was no
other line bisecting it, even as the second window began to
darken.

Her lips cracked open in automatic
response, and she drew a deep breath. As the scent emanating from
the lavender oil diffuser on the shelf above the towel rack filled
her lungs, reality registered: there was no vertical line in the
first window. She’d worked herself up over nothing. Even her cold
sweat was pointless. Except…

Except, holy hell, the
first window was still changing, beginning a second metamorphosis
right before her eyes. As the second control line appeared in the
second window, one just like it materialized in the first,
appearing sudden and strong, undeniably
there
.

She stared at it for God knew how
long, her gaze frozen on the vertical line that passed over its
horizontal twin, forming blue crosshairs right in the middle of the
test she’d picked up for a few dollars at the grocery store ten
minutes from her apartment, tucking it between a bag of avocados
and a jug of milk, hiding it in her cart because that had made the
possibility it’d represented seem less real.

She picked up the test again, reading
the three lines over and over as the thin device shook, making the
blue stripes blur. The aroma of lavender still hung in the air, but
it seemed less soothing than before – cloying, almost.

Blurry or not, the reality the stripes
had revealed was clear: Abby’s life would never be the same. Trying
and failing to breathe normally, she set the test back down and
glanced at her reflection in the mirror.

Her face was pale and shining beneath
the sheen of a nervous sweat, and that made her messy ponytail look
ragged and washed-out – more dirty dishwater blonde than the
natural platinum shade she’d inherited from her dad.

She’d just have to go to work this
way. Because at the moment, she needed more than anything to escape
the quiet solitude of her apartment, and her hands were still
shaking too badly to be trusted with make-up or a curling iron.
With one last look at the positive pregnancy test, she turned on
her heel and rushed out of her home, pausing to pull on shoes and
grab her purse, swinging it over her shoulder as she struggled into
a light jacket.

Her entire world’s axis had just
shifted, but she still had work – she had a new client scheduled
for a noon appointment, in fact. As she hurried down the complex’s
stairs and slid into her car, she prayed that her hands would stop
shaking by the time she picked up a tattoo machine.

* * * * *

“
Hey, you okay?” Tyler hung
over the wall of Abby’s half-booth, a dark brow raised as he
surveyed her from above.

Half-curled in her swivel-chair, she
felt smaller than her petite frame accounted for. “Yeah,” she
breathed, forcing herself to straighten and wincing as her spine
popped.

“You look like crap,” Tyler
said. “I mean, you look like you
feel
like crap.” He watched her like
he expected her to bite his head off.

“Not a great morning,” she admitted.
“It’s personal.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding and backing
away from the half-wall. “Female stuff. Gotcha.” He was gone
quicker than a summer rain shower, safely shielded from her female
woes by the solid wall of his own booth.

Abby glanced toward the front counter,
where Zoe the receptionist sat on a stool behind a glass case full
of body jewelry, ready to help any client who walked in. She was
the only other woman in the Hot Ink Tattoo Studio at the moment.
All the other artists were male; Zoe and Mina, the other
receptionist, were the only female staff besides Abby.

Female or not, Zoe was oblivious to
Abby’s issues, and that was for the best. Abby wasn’t ready to tell
anybody yet – not when she only half-believed it herself. Making
sure that no one was watching, she swept her fingertips over her
belly. No baby bump yet, but her body had been changing in other
ways.

Sore breasts and days of vague nausea
had prompted her to consider the possibility that she might be
pregnant despite the fact that a missed period hadn’t meant much to
her – her periods had been more or less irregular since she’d
started a new birth control pill a few months ago, so no immediate
alarm bells had gone off when she’d skipped a cycle.

So much for those pills.

She was what – God, almost two months
pregnant, despite the medication? Had to be, because she knew
exactly when she’d conceived the baby, even if she could hardly
believe it.

One night. One night with
one amazingly hot-dream of a guy she’d met at a bar. Her stomach
shrank into a hard ball as she tried to imagine life as the single
mother of a child conceived in the most cliché of careless
situations: a one-night stand with a random stranger who was
absent from her life, totally
oblivious.

God, she might never see him again.
And even if she did, for all she knew, he was a total flake. A
total flake with a rippling six pack that would make her growing
belly look frumpy.

“Hey Abby,” Zoe called from up front,
“your twelve o’clock is here.”

“’
Kay,” she wheezed,
suddenly short of breath as she eyed a nearby tray of equipment.
Enough was enough – she had to stop freaking out and get into the
zone so she could fulfill the promises she’d made to her newest
client. She wouldn’t – couldn’t – tattoo anyone unless she was sure
she could give the piece her best effort, and she had about five
minutes to get her head on straight.

Standing, she reached out and steadied
herself with a hand on the booth wall, her heart sinking as her
head swam. Was being pregnant really this bad, or was it just
nerves?

Probably both…

“Hi,” she said, emerging from her
booth and stepping into the main aisle, wiping a clammy palm on her
jeans so it would be dry when she shook her client’s hand. This
would be the first time she’d done that; this guy had been an
e-mail consult, someone who’d claimed his rotating shift schedule
made it easier to plan online than face to face. “I’m Abby. It’s
nice to finally meet you in person…”