3. You Kick During Sex
Who is this woman?
I follow Primrose through the dense patch of forest that separates the Gracen farm and mine, the crunch of leaves and broken twigs under our feet mixing with our ragged breathing and the occasional squeal from the piglets.
Fucking piglets.
I almost lost it when they hid from me behind some giant, pissed-off, territorial pig. It tried to bite my hand off, and the scene must’ve been loud enough to alert Derek, because I distinctly heard someone running toward the sty.
Then something else happened. Something that distracted Derek Gracen enough for me to run the fuck out of there with the piglets. This woman. I was either leaving with them or getting arrested trying, and now thanks to her, I’m one step closer to the former.
Did I dream up that orange glow? Was it a fire?
“Crap!” Primrose hisses as she trips. She manages to turn before she hits the ground, the piglet held high, but it doesn’t prevent me from dropping too, my arm ending up in a thorny bush I might never extract it from.
There’s silence for a moment, and though there are plenty of nightlife creatures making all sorts of noises around us, I can’t hear any with the way my heart is beating in my ears.
“My ass,” she whines, and after taking a deep breath, I pull my arm out, ignoring the sting of the thorns digging into my skin.
God, I’m lightheaded.
“You good?” I ask as I get to my feet, holding the screaming piglet to my chest.
Her full lips are bent into a grimace as she mutters, “Yeah, I’m fuck-tastic.”
I help her up next, her small palm getting lost in mine. Her wide and deep blue eyes stare back at me as her straight, slightly upturned nose twitches. She must be over a foot shorter than me, and as my eyes run down her body, searching for potential damage, I notice her hourglass figure— her full bust, slim waist, and rounded hips.
Pretty, even in that ridiculous glittery pink dress.
I look away, deciding it’s easier to concentrate when I’m not obsessing over our kiss. “We’re almost clear,” I whisper. “But we need to run fast. The police will know to come to my farm, and they’ll be quicker by car. Can you keep going?”
When she nods, I gesture at her to go before me and follow her through the dense trees until my wooden fence comes into sight. I hold her arm to stop her and bring my index finger to my lips. I need to make sure the police aren’t already here.
I hop over the fence and slowly walk along the back wall and to the side, and once I confirm the driveway is clear, I tell Primrose to come. She awkwardly jumps over the fence and joins me, shushing the piglet, who emits a continuous screech, as if it will suddenly start listening to her.
She opens her mouth to speak, but is immediately silenced by faded red and blue intermittent lights in the distance. Her face turns whiter than a sheet, and it spurs me to fit a hand into my pocket and look for my keys.
Which I can’t find.
“What do we do?” she asks in a trembling whisper. “I can’t be arrested. I’m too soft. They make you wear pants in prison, don’t they?”
My eyes narrow over her face as I search the other pocket.
“Of course they do,” she whines. “It’s not like it’s tennis.”
Where are my stupid keys?
“The food must be terrible too. And I can’t sleep without my pillow. Oh!” She gasps, cupping her mouth. “I have a shy bladder. How do people with shy bladders survive prison?”
“Shut the fuck—” I cut myself off with a groan. I must have dropped the goddamn keys when we fell, and finding them would be hopeless even if the sun were shining, but in the middle of the night? No way.
I walk to my pickup, happy to see I left the window open like always, and I reach in to pull the lock, then set the piglet on the driver’s-side floor. Thankfully, Primrose followed me, so I set the other piglet inside and shut the door. Enclosed in the comfortable space, they immediately settle down.
If they squeal, we’re toast.
“You have to hide me, okay? I can’t be arrested. I’m somewhat of a public figure and this would ruin me. Ruin me.” Primrose rushes out. “I’ll pay you. What do you want? I’ll do anything. Anything, please?—”
Oh my god, she won’t shut up, and the police cruiser must be at the top of the driveway because the lights look static now. We’re out of time.
Grabbing her hand, I drag her to the backyard as I start to undo my flannel top. By the time we reach my old outdoor wooden table, she’s looking at my naked chest with wide eyes. “Take off your dress.”
“What?”
“Your dress,” I insist. “We have less than a minute.”
“I’m not—” She crosses her arms, a scowl on her heart-shaped face. “Okay, look, I let you kiss me, but when I said I’ll do anything, I meant?—”
“Fucking take off your dress, or pee in front of a pants-wearing murderer in your new cell.” I pull my shirt off and drop it on the table behind her. “Put this on.”
We’re standing so close, every quick breath makes the tip of her tits brush against my stomach. Her eyes run down my body, her pupils dilating ever so slightly, as if deciding whether I’m worth having sex with to evade prison.
She winces, her body vibrating with indecision until she grabs my shirt from beside her. “Turn around.”
“You can’t be serio?—”
“Turn around!”
Oh, for the love of god.
I turn my back on her, listening to gravel crunching under the officers’ shoes. They’ll knock at the house first. Then they’ll check the pickup. So if Purity Princess can get sorted quickly enough, I’ll make a noise that will drive them out here before they think of flashing their lights through the car window.
“Okay,” she whispers. “I’m done.”
I’m mid-turn when I hear knocking from the other side of the house. They’re at the door, which means I need to make this happen right now.
But as I stare down at the pocket-sized Barbie wearing my shirt, the fabric brushing past her knees, I forget it all for a second. She looks exactly the way she should. Disheveled, dirty, out of breath. Wearing something of mine, in which she looks much better than I do.
“What now?” she mouths, and even though she makes no sound, I can almost hear her desperation, and it helps me snap back into focus. Grabbing both of her thighs, I pick her up and set her down on the table, her legs hanging over the edge as her ass lands on it. She lets out a little gasp, and once I smack my hand against the table, her mouth opens to form a small O. The noise that reverberates is so loud I’m expecting the cops to wander back here any second.
Fitting between her legs, I lean forward, my eyes on her, and her shaky breath fanning over my chin. She maintains a safe distance from me as I advance, until the top half of her body is lying down on the table, and she has nowhere to escape.
Shit, look at those innocent, big blue eyes.
She’s beautiful.
Dragging my gaze away from hers, I veer to the left and kiss her neck, hoisting her legs up until she takes the hint and wraps them around my ass.
My chest presses against hers, the cold night air doing nothing to cool the rising temperature of my body. I can’t even tell what it is—if it’s fear, uncomfortable intimacy, or such sudden arousal that I’m struggling to keep up with it.
I pepper kisses down her neck, then along my shirt collar, reminding myself to stop before my lips dip further down. But man, does she taste great. Smells great, feels great too, her wide hips squeezed in my hands.
When she sighs softly and goosebumps rise on the skin of her chest, I look up at her. Eyes closed, she’s arching into me so her pebbled nipples brush against my skin.
Is she...enjoying this?
Her hands run up my shoulders to lock around my neck, and I fit one arm under her, her soft body clinging to mine in all the right places.
She is enjoying it.
Maybe danger-infused sex with a stranger as the police watch isn’t the worst idea I could have.
Someone clears their throat, and I flinch. I lift a shoulder, though not enough to expose Primrose, and connect with a pair of green eyes I’d recognize anywhere. In a second, my arms retract and she slams back down on the table with a thump.
“Fuck,” I say as I look down at her. “Sorry. You okay?”
She glares, and with my heart beating wildly in my chest, I focus on Josie again.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Josie walks closer, her vigilant green eyes on Primrose. Her gaze flips to me, and with her lips pressed together, she hooks one finger on the loop of her belt next to her holster. “Hey, Logan.”
“Hi.” Fuck! What is she even doing here? I thought she was stationed in Roseberg now. “Hi, Jo—what...what’s going on?”
Primrose shifts between my hands, pulling at my shirt until she’s sitting on the table. Another officer comes into the light, and I exhale.
Connor Harper.
Good friend to one Derek goddamn Gracen.
“We got a call from the Gracen farm. Someone stole their animals again.” Josie’s brows arch, a patient smile fixed on her face as she tucks a strand of fiery red hair behind her ear. “And they set his garbage on fire as a distraction.”
I hum, turning to Primrose. No matter how much I try to picture it, I can’t imagine this tiny, pink-haired woman committing arson.
“You happen to know anything about it, Coleman?” Connor asks.
I look at the pair again and shrug. “Not really, no. As you can see, I’m pretty busy.” I drive the point home by squeezing Primrose’s thigh, and she squeals in surprise.
Josie’s circumstantial smile disappears, and she straightens the tie clipped onto her beige shirt with a sigh.
“Your rap sheet just gets more and more vivacious, doesn’t it?” Connor continues, rubbing his salt-and-pepper stubble. “Break-in, burglary, and now arson?”
“All you can arrest me for is a little public indecency,” I quip back. “Does that hold up if you’re at your own house?”
Connor nearly sneers, and Josie steps in front of him, giving him her Quit it look. I know it far too well. “Okay, hm...What’s your name?” she asks, looking away from me.
“Primrose—Bellevue.”
“Primrose, did you spend all night with Logan?” Josie holds a hand up. “And please remember that lying to me could turn you into an accomplice to his crimes.”
Mycrimes? Sure.
Primrose tilts her head to study me, and I clench my jaw, focusing on her clouded blue eyes. I’m not worried she’ll rat me out, but she also doesn’t look like a super-confident liar. “Y-yeah. We went to the bar, then we thought we could—we like to keep things interesting, you know? Sexually.”
Josie’s eyes flick to mine, and I try to cringe inwardly as I slowly nod. “Uh, yep.”
“So you two are together?”
“Yeah,” Primrose says as her small hand taps my chest. “Inseparable. I’m obsessed—no, not obsessed—just, hmm, I love him so much.”
Oh, god. She’s panicking, isn’t she?
“Huh.” Josie’s eyes pierce mine. “And you didn’t think a woman loving you was worth mentioning to your family?”
Primrose grasps my hand on the table, her fingers squeezing until my blood flow is cut off.
“I was going to,” I say as I try to escape her death grip. “You know me. Privacy.”
“Solve your family drama in your free time, Officer Lawson,” Connor tells Josie as he walks past her, stopping in front of me and planting both hands on his hips. He jerks his chin forward, as if it can compensate for the half foot difference in our height. “Where are the pigs, Logan?”
“Pigs?”
“The animals that were stolen.”
I suck in a quick breath. “Ohh. You mean the pigs that were weaned from the sow earlier than it’s legal to do?” I click my tongue. “Yeah, I’ve heard about that. Horrible business, but I’m sure you guys are on top of it.” I smirk down at the nearly bald man. “Aren’t you, Conny?”
“Just because Derek allegedly did something illegal, it doesn’t mean you can too, Logan,” Josie says before Connor can interject. She sighs in the same way she always does when we find ourselves in this sort of situation, which might be a little more often than I care for. “It’s up to the authorities to prove a crime has occurred, then take the correct measures against it.”
“I’m aware.” I turn to Primrose, then glance down at her plump lips. She’s chewing on the bottom one, and I fight the impulse to pull it free with my thumb. “Which is why I was here taking care of my girl.” I focus on Connor. “Several times. All night long. Right, cupcake?”
She swallows hard, then nods.
“Mind if we take a look inside?” he hisses.
“I do. A great deal.”
Connor nods, and it’s only when Josie tells him they should go for the third time that he disappears along the side of the house. Josie stays, watching us curiously for a moment longer before saying, “Come over next week, huh? Both of you? We can have dinner.” Her eyes soften, and she adds, “Sadie would love to see you.”
“Yeah, okay. We’ll try.”
She nods, giving me the sad look of someone who knows they’re being lied to. Then she hesitates and says, “Logan, are you...bleeding?”
Shit. I look down at my arm and find blood streaming from a gash below my elbow. The thorns, if I were to guess. “Just a little scratch,” I mumble.
“How’d you get it?”
I shrug, holding her inquisitive gaze. “You know...” I awkwardly pat Primrose’s arm, and she’s nearly shaking with fear. “Primrose likes to use her nails.”
Her pupils blow as she stares up at me, her cheeks clamped between her teeth. Then, almost as quickly as it showed up, the expression is gone, and she’s nodding at Josie. “Yeah. Scratching and—and slapping. And kicking too, or?—”
“Anyway,” I stop her, hooking an arm around her shoulders and squishing her against my chest. “If there’s nothing else we can do for you...”
“No.” Josie takes a step back, studying us. “I’ll see you at dinner at our place, Logan. Both of you, since you’re in a serious, committed relationship.” Her chin dips. “Right?”
“Right.”
“Great.” She clicks her tongue. “Stick around. No skipping town.” Then, without waiting for confirmation, she walks around the corner.
Shoulders falling, I let Primrose go.
“Oh, god,” she whispers as she slowly reclines onto the table, her chest heaving with each quick breath. If she’s experiencing half of the adrenaline crash I am, I get it. I can’t get arrested again. It’ll give my mom that heart attack doctors have been threatening her with for years.
Head tipping forward, I glance down at Primrose’s legs. The shirt has ridden up her thighs and is now bunched around her hips, her green underwear on full display.
Are those...smiling sloths?
Yes, they are. Smiling brown sloths on an olive-green background.
“Hey!” she shouts as she shoves me, her other hand tugging at her shirt to cover up. “What the hell? Are you staring at my underwear?”
“Sloth—I mean, shit, no.” I turn around, searching the ground as she hops off the table, my cheeks heating.
Really smooth, Logan.
“Yes, you were.” There’s a moment of silence, then, “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for a rock.”
“A rock? What for?”
I find one that’s big enough and walk past her to the back door without a word. I hold it up, then send it crashing against the glass as I keep one arm over my face. Careful to avoid the jagged shards still attached to the window frame, I fit one arm inside and twist the lock.
She’s at my side in the next breath. “Wait a second,” she whispers, her big, worried eyes studying me. “I don’t know what impression I gave you, but I’m not a criminal, okay? I can’t even lie. I’m family-rich, and I’ve been shielded from everything my whole life. My dad made us cross the street when a homeless man was on the sidewalk, you know?”
I pull my arm out, shaking my head. “What the hell are you on about now?”
“I can’t break into another house.”
“This is my house. I lost the key.”
Her lips part, and I open the door. “Wait here. I’ll clean up.” My boots crunch on the glass as I turn on the light. I walk the corridor to the entryway closet, and when I return with the broom, Primrose is leaning against the doorframe, her naked legs crossed in front of her. All the way to her knees, her skin is scratched and dirty with blood and mud, and her hair is ruffled on the back of her head. As her eyes burn into mine, I have to remind myself the nearly naked woman in front of me is only wearing my shirt because of the stupidest turn of events in history.
“What?” she asks, her head barely lifting.
“Nothing.”
“I’ll go get my dress, then I’ll call a cab and be out of your hair.”
Brows screwing tight over my eyes, I shake my head. “You what? You can’t leave. You just told Josie we’re together, and she’ll be back in the morning, trust me.”
“Oh. So...do I need to sleep here?”
“Afraid so.”
She hesitates as I sweep around her. “Are you...are you a criminal?”
“No more than you.”
She seems to want to disagree but stops before saying a single thing.
“If I’m going to sleep here, I need to know I can trust you,” she murmurs.
I clean some more shards off the tiles, her eyes on me, and I’m not sure what she’s expecting. She told the cops we’re in love, and now I have to prove myself to her? “You know, you hit me with your car. And you’re the arsonist. I’ll be lucky if I don’t wake up with smoke down my lungs, so maybe you should be the one to prove you’re not dangerous.”
“I am not an arsonist.” She points up and down her body. “Look at me.”
Yes, she looks ridiculous.
Yet shit went up in flames.
“Fine,” I say as I drop the broom on one side. “You want me to prove I’m honest?” I shrug. “I was staring at your underwear.”
“I knew it!”
“Yeah, give me a break. If there’s a half-naked woman in front of me, I’m going to look. Okay? It’s biology.”
“Yeah. Perv biology,” she mumbles as she looks away.
Fucking unbelievable.
“No, not perv biology. The same biology that makes you grind against a man you’re fleeing a crime scene with.” I shoot my brows up my forehead. “Because biology works like that. If I kiss your neck a certain way, I end up feeling your nipples against my chest.”
She opens and closes her mouth a bunch, her cheeks turning redder by the second, until I walk into the corridor and open the first door to the right. “Guest bedroom. Bathroom’s the next door. Good night, and don’t touch the matches.”
“I am not an arsonist, you dick,” she calls after me.
Turning around, I say, “It brings out the pink in your hair, you know?”
She narrows her eyes. “What?”
I wink. “Your green underwear.”