Chapter 14
Christine
Tagger’s seat belt flies back so hard that it hits the inside of the truck with a bang. His seat slides back so fast that I barely know what’s happening before he grabs my hips and pulls me onto his lap to straddle him.
His hat tumbles between us, but he catches it on reflex, tossing it into the back seat. Then his hands reach up quickly, cupping my cheeks as he presses his lips to mine. My breath catches in the scuffle of hands and bodies, lips, hair tangling between fingers and lips.
I lean back against the steering wheel, my chest rising and falling again with each breath I take.
“You kissed me?” I don’t even know what I’m asking because my thoughts are so scrambled.
But I know I wasn’t the one instigating this time .
. . though I’ll admit I’m not innocent. But he kissed me. Tagger Grange kissed me all on his own.
I caress his face, the scruff like dull needles that need sharpening against my hands. He looks up with a lick to the corner of his mouth as if he doesn’t want one taste of me to escape. “I want to do it again.”
“No one’s stopping you.”
“You’re so fucking naughty, Pris.” With his hand holding the back of my neck, I’m pulled forward until our mouths crash together again.
His lips are strong like his hands, embracing and owning my entire mouth.
His tongue parts my lips and two-steps with mine as they explore every corner of our mouths together.
I’m high on the ecstasy of feeling his hard length for me.
He reacts so quickly to me, his lips taking ownership of mine like this is long overdue, and he can’t resist me.
I’m already addicted to the headiness of it all and give in.
I rub the seam that cuts right down the middle of my legs shamelessly over him.
Again and again and harder and harder as the coiling begins deep in my center.
The soft, thin material of my panties don’t stand a chance against the thick roughness of the denim. “God, you feel so good.”
The words seem to inspire him to dig his fingertips into the back of my ass.
He holds me down while helping me grind against him.
A moan escapes—his or mine is lost in the fogged-up space.
“So good, babe.” His lips find my neck, and his tongue flattens as it slides up to under my jaw.
“Do you know how long I’ve thought about you? ”
“Since Monday at Peaches?”
He stops and sits back, but the feigning of being upset doesn’t stick, and he laughs.
As soon as our eyes connect, he’s right back to where he left off, and I start to lose my way again.
Every gyrate a proposition for more, each moan comes throatier as I gasp for everything all at once—release, air, and more of him, all of him inside me.
It’s not enough. “I want you. I want you so much.”
He bucks into me, hitting the spot that I can’t get enough of and need his full attention on to get me off.
Dropping my head back fills my desperately seeking lungs with air, but the coil begins unraveling, and as much as I try to stave it off, to revel in this feeling, the faster it spins inside.
“Yes, babe. God yes. Right there.” I lift and land, rub, and take, take, take as much as I can.
But then his mouth finds my collarbone, one hand squeezing my breast while the other pops my jeans open and slips between my slickened lower lips.
One touch is all it takes, and I’m pushed right off the edge of the cliff where he placed me. Tremors rip through me, so I hold his shoulders, wanting to feel every last seismic shift. “Oh, Tagger. Yes. God, yes!”
The release hits quick, then my body slumps against him in the aftermath. Resting my head on his shoulder, I try to even my breaths and the beats of my heart.
As soon as I have the energy to lift my head, the adoring look in his eyes captures me. “So much for a Tagger-free night.”
“It was free alright. I won’t charge you a dime, not even that twenty you stole from me earlier.”
“Winning fair and square isn’t stealing anything except for your pride, but after that performance, you’ve earned every ounce right back.” There’s no smirk, just a smile I hold a fondness for. Always have. Maybe even more these days. “By the way, your hand is still in my pants.”
“I know. I like it here.” The wiggle of his fingers has me wanting more already.
A blue light blinds me even though the condensation on the windows obscures it. And then red. Blue. Red. “Oh no.” The siren startles me before I’ve had a chance to recover.
Tagger lifts me and sets me back in the passenger seat. “Fasten your pants.” His voice is ragged, his breath heavy through the command.
I listen and lift to tug them up, doing as I’m told because my thoughts are still reeling from the bliss to think clearly on my own.
A knock on the window has Tagger wiping the condensation away to see a police officer on the other side of it. “Shit,” he mumbles as if it hadn’t looked like this would be happening. He pushes the button, and the window slowly rolls down. “How can I help you, Officer?”
Resting a hand against the hood, the officer says, “Tagger Grange?”
“Yeah?” I can tell Tagger doesn’t recognize him.
I do. Too well but not on the wrong side of the law kind of way. “Dirk?”
He taps his name tag. “Deputy McCall.”
Tagger eyes me and turns back to him. Dirk’s toothy grin is brighter than the reflective lines on the street. “Oh hey there, Chrissy.”
That earns me a hard glare after hearing him call me that name. I laugh but keep it under wraps as much as I can. I shrug, and whisper, “I can’t control other people.”
Turning back to Dirk, Tagger asks, “Do you two know each other?”
“We went to high school together. Of course, you were already gone, but I used to watch you play on Friday nights. It was the highlight of my week.” Dirk has always been a little goofy, but he’s a nice enough guy.
“Thanks. So it’s Dirk?” Tagger begins to relax, reaching his hand out.
As Dirk shakes it, I can’t stop thinking about that hand being in my pants not five minutes ago. “Deputy McCall. I’m Greene County’s only deputy, actually.”
I lean a bit closer so I’m not shouting across the cab. “How’s your mom?”
“Recovering.”
“Aw, that’s good.” I sit back again. “Tell her I’ll bring her a peach cobbler when they’re ripe.”
“Sure will.” His eyes return to Tagger. “I heard you were in town.” But then he looks at me with concern squeezing his brow as if two and two are finally adding up for him.
“Yeah, I leave tomorrow.”
I tried to save us by distracting him, but he’s right back on the scent. Dirk says, “I see. Well, I’m still going to need to see your license and registration.”
“Dirk?” I caution, “You’re not serious right now?”
“I take my job very seriously. Sorry, Chrissy, but it’s my duty to keep the roads safe. Unless you’re broken down, this truck is an obstacle for oncoming traffic and could cause an accident.”
I throw my hand out toward the windshield. “What oncoming traffic are we talking about here? No one has passed us the entire time we’ve been on this road. There’s been no sight of anyone since we got off the highway.” I sit back, crossing my arms over my chest.
He backs up with his hands on his sides, looking in one direction and then the other in consideration.
I continue, “You know as well as I do that this road leads to four ranches over a twenty-mile stretch. It’s not a quick cut-through for the highway, which is the most direct way in and out of this county.”
He lets out a sigh and then looks past Tagger at me instead. “You should have been a lawyer.”
Tagger says, “She’s a real ballbuster, but I think the ranch is lucky to have her.”
I almost snapped back, but the big charmer came around with flattery. If I weren’t already caught up in the delicious aftermath of what we just did, I’d be all his now.
Tapping the side of the vehicle, Dirk says to Tagger, “Listen, I’m letting you go this time, but get on your way. And make sure to stay on the right side of the law when driving through our county.”
The look on Tagger’s face speaks volumes without saying a word. “Yes, sir. You got it.”
When Dirk looks at me again, he smiles like we’re at Sunday potluck and he scored the seat next to me. He always did have a crush on me. A lot like I had on Tagger. Full circle moment. “I’ll see you around The Pass.”
“Sure, Dirk. See you around.”
As soon as he walks away, Tagger rolls up the window, then shoots a glare in my direction. “He wants to fuck you.”
I snort. “I think he wants more than that.” Waggling my ring finger, I say, “I think he wants to get married.”
“He’s quite the catch. Deputized and all.” There’s that jealous streak. “Solid job. Good provider. Works the night shift so I can come visit you in bed after hours.”
My thighs rub together. The exhilaration of coming to life from an orgasm is the best feeling in the world. “Well, well, well. Who’s the naughty one now?” I reach over and run my nails over the back of his head and down his neck.
He leans into it as if the touch itself is needed. Maybe it is. Maybe he needs the presence of someone as much as I am. Pulling his seat belt on again, he says, “Buckle up. Don’t want Deputy Dirk to pull us over again.”
“Technically, we didn’t get pulled over. We were already here.” I buckle up just before he shifts into drive. “Also, you should be thankful I was in the truck with you, or you might be spending the night in jail.”
Holding a finger up, he says, “First off, you were handling it just fine without any help from me. Second, you’re the only reason I was pulled off to the side of the road in the first place. Something about wanting to kiss you again, and there you were, daring me to make bad decisions.”
I mimic his finger in the air. “Well, first off, there was no dare involved. You came willingly—”
“Sadly, I didn’t come at all.”