Taming Johnny (6 page)

Reaching around, he brought her even closer. Her body was giving, her curves painfully feminine. Her hair hung in silky waves over her shoulders and fell to the middle of her back, brushing his hand. She smelled so good that he was having a hard time not burying his face in her neck right there on the sidewalk.

She was making soft, muffled sounds. Maybe she’d been wanting this as much as he had. Although, he found that hard to believe. His dick was straining like a brick at the front of his slacks.
Christ.

Suddenly angry with himself, he broke the kiss. Starting a thing with Beaumont, of all people, was the last thing he needed. He leaned back, glaring at her without really meaning to.

She looked at him questioningly, her lips still glistening and swollen. “What?”

“Nothing,” he bit out. “It’s getting late. We should get back.”

And just like the asshole he was, he left her standing there, the Texas moon suspended full and bright overhead.

Chapter 7

Blah, blah, blah. Yada, yada, yada.

Emma stared up at the screen with her chin in her hand. The speaker was going on and on about a new computer program, convinced it would reinvent the life of the modern day police clerk as she knew it. And Emma couldn’t care less.

The entire morning had been nothing but a blur, the evening before, worse. Everything after Johnny kissing her was a big blob of confusion that she just couldn’t seem to grasp. He’d been so…
eager
. And then, all of a sudden, grumpy Lieutenant Street decided to go and ruin everything. He’d actually left her standing on the sidewalk, mouth hanging open, nipples still tingling where his chest had rubbed against hers.

Scowling at the screen now, she wished she had been in her right frame of mind. If she had, she would have given him a piece of it. Emma sat up and finally took the cap off her pen. She should probably pay attention. If she saw him later that day, she wouldn’t let him weasel off. She’d make him listen while she listed off every single thing that was wrong with him…not including how he kissed. That part was just fine.

* * * *

Johnny sat at the bar and downed another beer, the guys on either side of him going on endlessly about some chick who had just walked in.

“I’d tap that,” said one. He was a corrections deputy from El Paso who’d been sitting there for five minutes tops, and Johnny already wanted to punch him.

“Not if I tap it first.” That from a cop whom he’d been to the academy with and actually liked. A little.

He figured having a drink with the guys after the monotonous day of classes might be a good way to wind down, but he’d been wrong. The alcohol wasn’t doing the trick. And neither was the boring, one-sided conversation. Whose ass they were going to tap next. He’d been in the service long enough to get fairly sick of this kind of thing. Now he found himself not only sick of it, but irritated as well.

Tipping his head back, he downed the last of his beer. Really, he was just ready to get the hell out of here. Although, he wasn’t looking forward to the drive back with Beaumont tomorrow. Kissing her had been stupid, really, really dumb. He should never have asked her to come to the conference in the first place. He should have known something like this would happen. Suddenly, the beginnings of a headache pulsed at his temples.

Shoving his mug across the bar, he put down a ten. “Heading up, guys. Later.”

“You can’t leave now, Street,” El Paso said. “That hot piece of ass is on her way over.”

“Don’t care.”

But before he could get up, he caught the faint scent of perfume.
Familiar
perfume.

“Lieutenant Street, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Shit.
Johnny’s chin dropped to his chest. The guys beside him snickered. The bartender picked up the ten, but not before giving an appreciative smile to the woman standing behind him.

“Not now, Beaumont. I’m headed up to my room. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Fine. I’ll walk with you.”

Stepping off the stool, he turned around. She looked good, but that was nothing new. She usually did. The difference tonight was that she also looked pissed. Despite the stares from the men around her, she only had eyes for him. They looked dark and stormy. It did something to him he wasn’t sure he’d admit to.

“I guess I can’t stop you.”

“No,” she said. “I guess you can’t.”

He nodded to the guys he’d come with. “Gentlemen.”

Schnell nodded back before sizing her up again. Johnny didn’t like the look on the other man’s face and resisted the urge to grab him by the neck, although he really didn’t know why he cared.

Shrugging, he brushed past her. “Let’s go then.”

He walked briskly toward the elevator, cursing the day he’d met her. Everything had been fine before. Everything had made sense.

Stopping at the large, silver door, he jabbed the button impatiently. She stood behind him, breathing hard. Maybe it was the faster than normal jaunt to the elevator. Or maybe it was something else.

“Are you planning on talking about this?” she said to his back. “Or are you just going to pretend like it didn’t happen?”

He drew in a measured breath as the door slid open with a ding. There was a couple standing inside, who had obviously just been making out. The guy still had his hand on her ass, rubbing it in a way which said he wanted to do more.

Johnny stepped in on one side of them, Beaumont on the other. “Eight, please,” she said, never taking her eyes off him.

After a second, the elevator lurched and began its climb upward. The man and woman picked up where they’d left off, not seeming to care they weren’t alone.

Johnny felt the weight of Beaumont’s stare from a few feet away. It was almost palpable. Finally, he looked over, eyes narrowed and challenging. The couple between them continued kissing, the woman moaning softly as the man found the gap in the waist of her jeans, and stuck his hand down it. Johnny raised a brow, knowing it was making Beaumont uncomfortable. Her face colored, but she refused to look away. He wasn’t surprised. From their interactions in the office, he knew good and well that she wouldn’t back down from him. It pissed him off and turned him on.

The elevator stopped at the fifth floor and opened with a cheerful ding. The couple stopped kissing long enough to stumble out into the hallway before the door shut again, leaving them alone.

She opened her mouth, but he held a hand up to stop her.

“You want me to kiss you again, is that it?”

“No! No,” she said, blushing furiously. “That’s not it.”

“Really? Because I think you do. I think you want to be more than kissed, Beaumont.”

“What I want,” she said through noticeably clenched teeth, “is for you to stop calling me Beaumont. And how would you know if I wanted to be kissed again? As far as I can tell, you weren’t even planning on talking to me after what happened last night. And you’re the one who kissed
me
, remember?”

He glared back, hating her. Hating what she was starting to represent, despite his best efforts otherwise.

“I can’t get a reading on you, Lieutenant. You’re cold, then hot, then cold again. Why? Why come to my apartment that night? Why not just set me straight at work, if that’s what you were aiming for?”

She was right. One hundred percent. What the fuck was he doing?

The elevator stopped at the eighth floor and the door opened. She stood there, hands on her hips, not moving an inch. Well, she could stand there all bloody night for all he cared. He was done talking about it.

“Goodnight, Beaumont,” he said, stepping out of the elevator.

“Where are you going?” She hustled down the air-conditioned hallway after him.

“To bed.”

“Why should I let you just walk away after what happened?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Why don’t you care at
all
?”

Reaching his door, he pulled out the key card and shoved it in the lock.

“Will you please answer me?”

“I said goodnight.”

“So this is it, huh?”

He could tell she was on the verge of tears.

“You’re going to completely shut down, or whatever you do, and not acknowledge what happened between us.”

“What’s to acknowledge? I was drunk. End of story.” Opening the door, he turned. “I don’t know what you’re hoping for, Beaumont, but I’m not it. Go find a nice accountant or something.”

She pursed her lips until they practically disappeared. Her cheeks were on fire. “How dare you? How dare you treat me like that? We’re not at work. I didn’t have to come here, and you know it. I came here to do you a favor.”

“You came here because you wanted to get laid.”

She threw her hands in the air. “No wonder no one can stand you! You’re un
believable
.”

Maybe. But it was working. She’d leave him alone after this.

“They may not like me, but I’ve never pretended to be something I’m not. Unlike you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She was breathing heavily, her breasts straining underneath the sheer pink blouse that was just a little too tight for business attire. His throat was bone dry, and all of a sudden he wanted another beer. Anything to make whatever this was go away.

“It means that innocent act you put on is bullshit.” That was a lie. He knew damned well she didn’t sleep around.

Her mouth hung open. “Excuse me?”

Time to move in for the kill. He leaned closer, ignoring how she smelled, ignoring how her pulse drummed at the hollow of her throat. Ignoring everything but the overwhelming instinct to push her away. “Let’s just say I know I wouldn’t be the first, Beaumont, or the last.”

With cat-like quickness, she slapped him across the face. Hard. “Go to hell.”

Before she could turn away, he clamped onto her wrist and yanked her back around.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Don’t ever do that again.” He pulled her close. She was rigid, furious. She tried pulling free, but he just tightened his grip.
Let her go, Street. Now.

A long, honey colored strand of hair had fallen over one of her eyes, which were settled on him with such hostility that he almost did let her go. Almost. The skin on the inside of her wrist slid against the pad of his fingers like silk. He yanked her even closer, hating himself for being so rough, but not knowing how to be anything else. Her chest brushed up against his, her face only inches away. He could feel the tips of her breasts through his shirt, her pebbled nipples sending bolts of electricity straight to his groin.

“You know what I think?” he said.

Refusing to answer, she continued looking at him like she wanted to stick a knife between his ribs.

“I don’t think you want me to let you go.” He looked from her eyes, to her lips, to her chest, barely able to stand still next to her. “I think you like this.”

She yanked her wrist free with surprising strength, but made no move to back away. “You make me sick.”

“You
wish
I made you sick.” As fast as she’d slapped him, he cupped the back of her head and crushed his lips to hers. She immediately planted both hands against his chest and shoved. Her hair was everywhere, the skin on her neck flushed bright pink. Little angry sounds caught in her throat between heavy breaths.

Very slowly, she stepped back. But instead of flouncing off, she walked past him and into the room. Turning, she glared at him. “Close the door.”

Without thinking about it, still focused on how she’d felt pressed up against him five seconds ago, he did as he was told while glaring right back.

“You’re absolutely right,” she said, unbuttoning the top of her blouse. “We’ve been dancing around this for too long. Let’s just get it over with and move on, shall we?”

His gaze dropped to her cleavage, and with every opened button, his dick grew harder. The top of her breasts swelled full and white over the lace of a skimpy, champagne colored bra. Undoing the last button, she shrugged out of the blouse and dropped it on the floor. He could tell she was shaking, definitely still mad, but something else too.

Ignoring all the reasons not to, he reached her in less than two strides, pulling her close and kissing her again. This time, she kissed him back, hungry and rough. He parted her lips with his tongue and flicked it against hers. She was warm and wet, her lips slick and responsive. Whenever he moved his mouth, she met him halfway, reading his mind. Never backing down.

Pulling away, he dragged kisses along her neck, biting and sucking on the way down. Part of him wanted to see how far he could go, wondering when she’d push him away again. The rougher he was, the more she’d have to hate it. This was Beaumont, after all.

The other part of him wanted to slow down, wanted to savor the feel and taste of her. But that kind of thinking was stupid and dangerous. Definitely not his style.

When he reached for the buttons on her slacks, she put her hands on his, stopping him. His heart slowed like a dying thing in his chest.
Well, that’s it then.

“Can you turn off the light?”

He looked up, not processing. “What?”

“The light,” she said, her voice losing the edge of confidence it held just a minute ago.

She was smoking hot. Why turn it off? But she was obviously embarrassed, so he reached over and flipped it off. The room was immediately bathed in gritty gray, the slit from the curtains, offering the only sliver of light.

That seemed to do the trick. Immediately, she reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it on the floor. He couldn’t get her pants off fast enough. She wiggled her hips as he pulled them down past her thighs, revealing a lacey pair of panties that matched her bra. The material was so sheer that he could see the dark mound of hair between her legs, even in the dim light of the room.

“Jesus, Beaumont.” Pulling her close, he kissed her again, wanting to linger on her lips, but unable to keep still long enough. He moved her heavy hair off her neck and ran his tongue along her collarbone before moving south toward the swell of her soft, warm breasts. He reached around for the clasp of her bra, but she pulled away before he could get it unhooked.