The Virgin Sex Queen (9 page)

“So you were
ogling SJ?”

“No. I was
being considerate and shutting Sam’s door.”

“But he doesn’t
like it shut.” Alan said reasonably.

“I know that
now
.”

Straightening,
he came around the table to stand at her back and peer over her
shoulder at the bags. His presence like that was almost unnerving,
the warmth of his body seeping through her back to coil languidly
low in her belly. He reached around her to dip his hand into the
bag, his arm pressed briefly against the side of her breast as she
automatically raised her arm to give him room.

She felt that
brush clear down to her pink-painted toe nails.
Holy cow!
She didn’t know whether to press closer against his arm or just
sink to her knees. Who knew that kind of thing could be so lethal?
Geez, even her nipples had hardened. Thank God for loose
blouses.

Striving for
normalcy, she cleared her throat as, still peering intently over
her shoulder into the bag, he pressed closer against her while
rummaging. “See anything you like?”

He stilled.
Stopped dead. The silence in the kitchen was almost deafening, the
air charged with something she was half thrilled to recognise while
another part of her wondered if she was recognising it correctly,
because hell, would she really know if what she was sensing was
even true?

Maybe he was
just mortified at realising how close against her he was
pressing?

She waited for
him to leap back. Instead, he shocked her by pressing a little
closer, his cheek brushing against hers as he tilted his head to
look down into the bag.

Or at least she
thought he was looking into the bag until she glanced sideways to
find one dark eye studying her as he gazed sideways at her in
turn.

“Yeah.” His
rougher cheek moved against her smoother one as he spoke, he was so
close. “I surely do, Soph.” Closer still he pressed.

So close it was
addling her thoughts, making her nipples hard, and she might have
to change her panties if they got any damper. Cripes, what was
wrong with her?

Refusing to let
him know how he was affecting her, knowing he’d enjoy that for
sure, she managed to reply coolly, “What?”

Was it her
imagination or had he just flexed his hips against her? Was that
something on the utility belt of his uniform that was prodding the
crease of her bottom? Her pulse leaped, her cheeks grew hot.

But not once
did she stop looking sideways at him.

His sideways
gaze didn’t break either, but a slow smile crinkled his eyes at the
corner. “Something soft and sweet. And naughty.”

God God. The
hot flush just about flooded her. That certainly qualified as a
panty changer. “Really?”

“Oh yeah.”
Something firm was pressed against her bottom, all right. “Got
anything for me like that?”

“I doubt it.”
Good grief, was that husky voice hers?

“Oh, you have.
You’ve got just what I want. And I’m going to have it.”

Her knees went
weak.

Chapter 3

Turning his
head, Alan pressed a sudden smacking kiss to her cheek at the same
time his hand dove into the bag. Her mouth was still gaping when he
stepped back, and she looked over her shoulder to find him yanking
open the lid of the doughnut container. Taking one out, he bit into
it and chewed, his eyes closed as he moaned in ecstasy.

Oh, so
that
was the soft, sweet and naughty thing he wanted. Of
course. Sophie tried to ignore the disappointment that filled
her.

“Oh baby,” Alan
moaned, “What you do to me.”

“Enjoying
yourself?” she asked.

“You have no
idea.” Taking another bite, he chewed enthusiastically, still with
his eyes closed. “Oh God, that sweetness on my tongue, that
powdered sugar. Oh
honey
!”

“Do you need
some privacy?” She almost snatched the container out of his
hands.

“Not for
this.”

“What about
protection?”

He cracked open
one eyelid to contemplate her. “It’d taste like shit through
rubbers, Soph.”

“Might protect
your heart.”

“Sweetness
doesn’t hurt the heart.”

“The punch it
packs might.”

“What
punch?”

She was tempted
to show him but commonsense prevailed. She was no school girl
punching the class clown. Damn it. “Sometimes being a grown up
sucks lemons.” She dumped the container down on the table.

“Nah,” Alan
said. “Being a grown up is fun.”

She looked
sourly at him.

“Oh, sweetie.”
The smile left his face, but his eyes twinkled. “Tell ol’ Alan all
about it.”

“Not in a
flying fit.”

“I’m hurt.” He
moved back to the table, his gaze dropping to the doughnut
container. “I need something to lift my spirits.”

Sighing, Sophie
picked up the container and handed it back to him.

Grinning, he
took another doughnut and chewed on a bite, resting his hips back
against the table to watch her unpack the groceries. “So what’s all
this?”

Moving between
the table, cupboards and ‘fridge, Sophie continued packing away the
food and other sundries. “Paying my way.”

“You don’t have
to do that.”

“I don’t bum
off people.”

He eyed the
bunch of silver beet she held. “That’s not health shit, is it?”

“Got a problem
with it?”

“Yeah. Tastes
like shit.”

She almost
burst out laughing at his petulant expression. “Oh, diddums. Does
Daddy Sam make you eat all your veggies and nasty stuff?”

“Daddy Sam
would only try on risk of getting his arse kicked.”

“Do you know
what Daddy Sam would do to you if you did that?”

“Break me in
half?” Lifting one arm, Alan flexed his bicep which, she had to
admit, was pretty impressive. “I’d give him a run for his
money.”

Alan might be
well-built, but Sam was taller and carried a lot more muscle.
Sophie snorted.

Alan’s eyes
narrowed.

Smirking, she
tossed him the tea towel. “Here, sugar lips, wipe your mouth.”

Gaze still
intent on her, he swiped the powdered sugar from his mouth and gave
the tea towel a snap through the air. Straightening, he snapped it
again and then strode toward her.

All amusement
had left his face, his expression grim, and coming towards her like
that she had a sudden insight into how he must look on the job when
things turned serious.

Laughing,
teasing Alan was buried beneath the stern cop, and the
determination in his dark eyes was making her nervous.

Deliciously
so.

Oh geez, she
really was kinky, it wasn’t just in her writing.

Part of her
wanted to run, to have the thrill of a chase, but another part
argued that having him see her fat arse bouncing in front of him
would probably make him run the other way. No sooner had that
thought surfaced cruelly than she watched his jaw tighten and knew
that if she did run, he’d be after her.

That threat was
in every firm step, every deliberate way he studied her, his gaze
sliding from her face to drop to her breasts, her hips and back up
again.

Jesus, his eyes
were…
hot
.

Her heart rate
shot up, her blood pounded, and she’d cry in Heaven if she died
right now from a heart attack, because she sure as hell wanted to
remember this feeling to write down later.

Write?
Butterflies started to swoop low in her belly and her breath
caught. Bugger jotting this down, she wanted to remember it for
herself. The delicious combination of alarm, attraction, threat and
heat.

“Oh Soph.” His
voice was low, hard, as hard as his jaw as he stalked around the
bench and continued coming towards her. “You don’t think I’m a
threat, do you?”

She refused to
back away. Hell, she didn’t want to back away, even as alarm bells
tolled in her ears. What, exactly, was he going to do with that tea
towel? Her imagination just about went into over-drive.

His arm moved
back, her fascinated gaze followed the movement, and then with a
snap one end of the tea towel went behind her, coming flush along
her bottom, and his arms came each side of her, his hands catching
and gripping the tea towel so that it held her captive for him as
he stood right up against her.

His chin just
grazed her forehead, making her need to tilt her head back to stare
up at him. The breadth of his shoulders were wider than hers, the
muscles in his arms flexing as he caged her against him, the only
thing keeping her there the tea towel around her hips and bottom,
his arms each side of her, his hands - oh sweet baby Jesus, his
fisted hands were resting on the back of her hips where he held the
ends of the tea towel.

His eyes were
hard as he gazed down at her, his jaw hard, his muscles hard, his
belt against her abdomen hard - everything was hard. And was it her
imagination or was something else hard, something that was pressing
between her-

“So, Soph, you
think I’m no threat, don’t you?”

Right now she
thought he was the biggest threat to her sanity but she could only
shake her head.

“You think I’m
easy.”

Okay,
titillating position or not, that just begged for a comeback. “You
do sleep around.”

His nostrils
flared slightly. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I mean.” His
voice grew dangerously soft. “Not like that. You think I’m easy,
you can laugh at me, make fun of me. Mock me.”

Now where the
hell was this coming from? Indignation burned away some of that
delicious fascination. “What?”

“You think I
can’t take on Sam, Soph? You think I can’t take on a bigger
man?”

The alarm now
wasn’t delicious. What was wrong with him? “Alan, I didn’t-”

“I’m a cop and
a damned good one.” His voice was as hard and unyielding as the
rest of him. “Do you doubt it?”

“No, I-”

“You think I’m
stupid, Soph?”

“Alan, I
didn’t-”

“Because I’m
sane, Soph, I’m not stupid. I’m not an easy target.”

“Alan, I never
thought-”

“Why the hell
do you think I drive around with The Incredible Hulk?”

Sophie blinked.
“What?”

The grin spread
across Alan’s face, his teeth flashing white, his eyes laughing
down at her. “Mike is my secret weapon. When there’s dangerous shit
happening, I hide behind him. Jesus, I’m not easy. It’s hard being
an easy target when you’re out with King Kong.”

For several
stunned seconds she gaped up at him, then realising that he’d been
leading her on the whole time, she shoved at him. “You arse!”

Shaking with
laughter, he grabbed her and hauled her against him, one hand
against the back of her head pressing her face lightly into his
shoulder as she swore and struggled. “Shhh. You’ll wake Sam.”

Never mind Sam,
she’d kill Alan when she got free. He’d been laughing at her the
whole time and there she’d been, getting all hot and flustered and
then scared.

Shoving him
again, her hands slipped and suddenly she was pressed flush against
him. Her breasts weren’t just brushing against his chest, her
breasts were mashed up against his chest, making her very aware of
every hard swell and sweet mercy, the warmth of his body was almost
hot.

Or maybe it
just felt hot to her.

All she knew
was she’d stopped struggling, he’d stopped laughing, and now they
were pressed against each other. His hand at the back of her head
gentled, fingers brushing lightly down to tickle along her nape,
drifting lower while his hand at her waist shifted, long fingers
spreading out.

She felt every
finger, every hot, firm length as they shifted, testing lightly
along her flesh, kneading at the base of her spine before - her
breath caught.

Oh sweet Jesus,
Alan’s hand had slipped lower still, his palm coming to rest right
where her lower back started to rise to the swell of her buttocks.
A shift of his hand, an absence, a small jerk of his body against
hers and she saw the tea towel flicked away, and then once again
his hand came to rest on her bottom.

Yeah, full on
her bottom. His hand, in fact, was cupping one buttock, fingers
testing again, shifting.

It was
humiliating and breath-taking all at once. One part of her
registered that he was feeling her overly generous derrière, while
another part of her wanted him to go further, feel more, do more.
Oh yes,
so
much more.

She’d never
been held in a man’s arms before, never felt the intimacy she was
feeling now. He was in no hurry, and she sure as hell wasn’t going
to stop yet.

In the far
reaches of her mind she assured herself that she was just
researching for her books, nothing more, this moment didn’t really
mean anything.

God, could she
lie to herself or what?

“Alan?” Her
voice shook.

“Yeah?”

Her legs almost
gave way when his answer was breathed against her neck, right under
her ear. Then she actually had to grab his shoulders when she felt
his lips - his firm, oh so very masculine lips - brush across the
sensitive skin below her ear.

“I don’t…I
don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“You’re right.
It’s not a good idea. It’s a great idea.” Both of his hands left
her back, sliding out and upwards, and she sighed in
disappointment, only to catch her breath as those magical hands
came to rest on her ribcage, his thumbs just brushing the
undersides of her breasts. “Soph-”

She never knew
what he as going to say, for the sound of the front door slamming
shut and the yelled “Yoo hoo!” made them spring apart. They looked
at one another as another shout went through the house. “Sophie!
Where are you?”

Expression
inscrutable, Alan reached out and stroked a lock of hair back
behind her ear before his expression lightened, an easy smile
crossing his face as he swung around and called out, “In here,
Chelsea!”