Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Paula woke with a full bladder, a foul taste in her mouth, and a heavy arm draped over her middle. The arm belonged to a muscular male body with impressive morning wood pressed against her back.
Nothing unusual there.
What was unusual? She remembered exactly who that erection belonged to, remembered all too well the tousled blond hair, cocky smile, and golden-boy good looks. Jackson Cagney.
Shit.
Not some faceless hookup. Not just another notch. A detective. A cop. And what… thirteen, maybe fifteen years her junior?
She’d danced. She’d flirted. She’d absolutely, knowingly invited this. But waking up tangled in limbs and consequences? That hadn’t been part of the plan.
She’d not only gone home with Jackson, but she’d also had the best sex of her life. It wasn’t because she didn’t have sex often.
After her divorce, Paula had made sure she had plenty, but only on her terms.
The previous night had been different. Jackson had been bossy, taking complete control, and she’d liked it. The way he’d insisted she hold onto the bed had made everything more intense. Paula had to stop herself from rubbing an orgasm out to the memory. First, she had to get the hell out of here.
Paula looked around the room, masculine and well-organized with a valet stand in the corner.
Who the hell has a valet stand in their room?
A closer scan of the room revealed three large, framed posters from the Lord of the Rings movies. Paula did a double take.
What was he, some kind of fanboy?
It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be back here.
She found her clothes folded on a chair near the bed.
Folded?
Okay, that did it.
Neat freaks made her twitchy at the best of times.
Jackson clearly lived with military precision.
She, on the other hand, lived in organized chaos and didn’t intend to start alphabetizing her spice rack any time soon.
And beyond that, he was a colleague—a way-younger, handsome fellow officer, and way too controlled for her liking.
He embodied all the things she’d learned to stay far, far away from.
She needed to leave before her brain convinced her this wasn’t a complete disaster. Before she started thinking with her heart or, worse, with her hormones.
Paula moved Jackson’s arm so she could extract herself from the bed.
She held her breath when he mumbled, but he didn’t wake.
She tiptoed to the chair and picked up her clothes.
She couldn’t help stealing a glance back.
The bedside clock showed 6:30 am. She really had to get out of here.
How could she have let herself stay the night?
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She didn’t regret the sex. God, no . That had been intoxicating, addictive.
She was berating herself because she’d let her guard slip. Because she hadn’t just taken what she wanted and walked away like she always did. Because Jackson was a colleague—a younger colleague.
Jackson was too composed, too clean-cut, and too dominant in all the ways that made her dangerously tempted to let go.
She couldn’t afford that.
She closed the bedroom door as quietly as she could and let go of the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She pulled her underwear over her sticky thighs then put on her bra.
After checking her stockings, she decided they were a lost cause.
Holding her shoes in one hand and the stockings bunched up in the other, she made her way through the hallway.
I need a shower and breakfast, but most of all I need to get out of here.
Paula preferred to leave directly after sex and wasn’t happy with the walk of shame she had to do this morning. It was different from leaving in the middle of the night, likely because it was daylight.
To her immense relief, her clutch was lying on the floor near the front door. She stuffed her stockings inside. She had no clue where Jackson lived, but she knew Kansas City well.
She opened the door and stepped out into the street. A quick assessment and she realized she didn’t have to call for a ride. Although Jackson lived in a better neighborhood than hers, it was still within easy walking distance of her house.
Paula started down the street.
What had she been thinking?
She would never have gone home with a colleague if it hadn’t been for the wedding’s romance and excitement.
Why did I break my rule with Jackson Cagney?
It had been an amazing one-night stand, but would that be enough for her? If only he’d been an egotist and bad in the sack like her ex then she’d be over him now.
These thoughts were leading her nowhere. One night was all she could give him. She could deal with that, and Jackson would have to.
Jackson had been so dominant and possessive in the way he’d handled her. She’d never had a man take control like that; she’d also never had such great sex before. What would it be like to have someone in bed like that all the time?
Her mind kept spinning all the way home, but reality returned as soon as she opened the front door. Her entryway and living room were piled high with boxes, loose papers, and books. She stepped around the obstacles, certain she’d never let Jackson or anyone else see her place.
Where Jackson’s home had been pristine, hers was a cluttered mess. She tried to clean and organize it, but whatever got done fell apart within a month. She never seemed to have the time or energy. It had been like this since her move back to Kansas City after her divorce.
She considered taking a shower but decided she needed a run first. After putting on her favorite shorts and an old Police Academy t-shirt, she pulled on her running shoes. A good long run would help clear her head.
She found the MP3 player with her running playlist—she liked to start with Dio’s Stand Up and Shout —and headed out the door.
With each pounding step, the night before replayed in flashes.
Her thighs ached from muscles she hadn’t used at the gym.
She remembered the press of his demanding and relentless mouth on hers.
The way his sure, confident hands moved over her body, like he was memorizing her.
She pushed harder, as if speed could outrun memory.
It didn’t, but the burn in her legs helped drown out the noise.
Slick with sweat and still unsettled, she came back an hour later and jumped in the shower. After a quick rinse, Paula dressed for the day and went into the kitchen. She pulled a yogurt out of her fridge and fixed a cup of strong black coffee.
Her gaze slid to her kitchen table, covered with several weeks of mail, and decided to eat standing up.
Leaning against the refrigerator, she spooned the blueberry-flavored yogurt into her mouth.
Once she finished her breakfast, she placed the used mug and spoon in the sink and tossed the yogurt container in the trash.
She needed to do the dishes; she was running out of silverware.
Now, where had she put her phone? Oh, yeah, in that stupid clutch that went with the dress. What was wrong with pockets?
She checked her voicemail first. Two messages, neither of them urgent, but she had nine texts. What the hell? Laura had texted her twice.
Laura
1:14 am Did I see you leave with Jackson?
8:35 am You have to tell me what happened.
Paula looked over them and fired off a quick response.
Three messages from Kate.
Kate
8:23 am [Face Screaming in Fear emoji] I left with Chris last night.
8:28 am Did you spend the night with Jackson?
8:29 am Can you do coffee or lunch [Folded Hands emoji]?
Paula could use a friend, and she didn’t want to bother Laura.
Since she and James had recently become foster parents, they weren’t taking a honeymoon right away, even though they were still newlyweds.
Paula decided to read the other messages first. The next person in the list made her heart stutter—Jackson Cagney.
She hadn’t given him her private number, had she?
Jackson Cagney
8:16 am Where are you?
How on earth had he gotten her number?
Oh, right. She’d given it to him when they’d worked together on a case involving Laura the previous year.
Jackson Cagney
8:19 am You’d better have slipped out for Starbucks or something. [Winking Face’ emoji]
8:59 am Damn it, Paula
9:12 am Garozzo’s, tonight, I’ve made reservations for 7:00 pm
She couldn’t think about Jackson yet. She’d call Kate first.
Paula eyed her friend over the rim of her coffee cup. Was Kate a friend? Hmm, yes. Yes, she was. She liked the woman as much as she did Laura, and yesterday, at the wedding reception, they’d had a blast on the dance floor.
Right up until she’d made the brilliant decision to leave with Jackson Cagney.
He was younger—much younger—and far too connected to her professional world. And damn it, he was exactly the kind of temptation she usually knew better than to touch.
Paula forced herself from her self-recriminating, dismal thoughts back to the conversation.
They were sitting in a corner booth at IHOP, both eating more carbs than they usually did.
“So if I understand correctly you and Chris aren’t compatible, except you are.” Paula stared in confusion at Kate. “I don’t get it.”
Kate stirred her coffee and nodded, deep in thought. She slowly closed her eyes and drew a long breath through her nose, held it, and let it escape.
When she opened her eyes, Paula noticed how her beautiful green eyes glimmered and were surrounded by dark circles. She reckoned she didn’t look much better herself.
“It’s hard to explain if you’re not in the lifestyle,” Kate said slowly.
Paula nodded. “The lifestyle? You mean that whips-and-chains stuff?
Kate cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “Not always whips and chains, but yes the lifestyle. What do you know about BDSM?”
“Not much. I’ve seen Fifty Shades ”—Paula held up her hands at Kate’s disgusted expression—“and you’re not the first one to tell me it isn’t a good example of BDSM.
” Tapping a finger to her lips, she tried to piece together what little she knew about James and Laura.
Nothing came to mind. She shrugged and looked over to Kate helplessly.
“Okay, let me try to explain. Laura and James are a D/s couple. ‘D’ stands for Dominant and ‘s’ for submissive. The full acronym has a lot of meanings and there are almost as many forms of BDSM as there are people who practice it, but let’s stick to this part for now.
James’ need to dominate matches Laura’s desire to submit.
They fit together because their needs and wants fulfill each other.
” Kate took a small sip of coffee and continued.
“Chris and I are both dominant, so we don’t fit. ”
“I thought all Dominants were men.”
Kate looked at her quizzically and started laughing.
“Okay, that shows you know next to nothing about BDSM. Dominants come in all sexes and orientations. It’s not about men dominating women unless that’s how both parties want it.
Some people switch roles, depending on mood or partner.
Anyhow, Chris and I have incredible chemistry going on, and yesterday was one of the best sexual encounters I’ve had in my entire life, but we wouldn’t work as a couple. ”
“This stuff is way more complicated than I realized, but what’s wrong with a night of hot sex?”
Kate’s shoulders slumped, and Paula had to strain to catch her whisper. “Because I’ve been fucking in love with the man for as long as I’ve known him, and I can’t go back to the friend zone with him after this.”
Paula had absolutely no clue what to say to that.
One thing was certain, she wasn’t about to unpack her own mess with a way-too-compelling, far-too-young blond Adonis. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to dump her baggage on Kate, not when the woman clearly had her own problems to deal with.
No, she’d be the kind of friend who listened without judgment, offered useful advice, and kept her own drama neatly tucked away.
As for Jackson Cagney? She’d handle him. And it definitely wouldn’t involve going to dinner.