CHAPTER 1
I’m starting to go numb.
When I first became a cop, I was driven. Nothing could get in my way. I wanted to bring bad men to justice. Put as many of them behind bars as possible.
And I did it. I rose like a star. Became the youngest detective in my precinct. People started talking about me being the new captain.
And then ‘the incident’ happened, and I’ve been put on traffic duty while they investigate.
Can you believe that? Me. The new police hotshot with a flawless case record, pulling people over for speeding and administering field sobriety tests.
What a waste of my time.
A Jeep filled with a bunch of rowdy guys zips by. They’re cheering like hyenas, celebrating a football or basketball victory. I could pull them over, but what’s the point? Spend the next ten minutes giving them a talking-to and then have to deal with their obnoxious parents?
No thanks.
I sit back, watch them fade into the darkness, then go back to my coffee, which has been sitting so long it might as well be iced. It tastes like mud mixed with battery acid, but I need something to keep me awake through these tedious nights.
I raise the Styrofoam cup to my lips to take a sip, but something catches my attention.
A girl’s gorgeous face, speeding past me.
Something sparks in my heart, and I have to grasp the steering wheel as a forgotten feeling zaps through me. It’s been a long time since I felt anything other than boredom. Other than rage.
Who are you, angel?
She looks like a model at the wheel of an old sedan. A Honda that looks like it’s held together with tape and glue, rattling by me at forty in a twenty-five.
I barely catch a glimpse of her face, but it’s enough to captivate me. There’s something sweet in her expression. So determined. So soft. Everything I am not.
Normally, I’d give someone speeding like that a pass. But not this one. Not her.
I hit the lights and sirens and pull out after her. My chest heaves as I gasp short, desperate breaths. No way am I letting a girl who can get me feeling this way get away.
Who are you, angel?
Protocol says I’m supposed to call this in. All traffic stops must be called back in to dispatch. But as I reach for the radio, I’m shocked to find my hand is shaking. Even my skin is hot.
What the hell is happening to me?
The Honda slowly pulls over, and I park behind her, staring at the back of her head. Part of me hopes she’ll be an obnoxious brat. Then I can go back to my normal life of dull indifference.
But what if she isn’t?
I grit my teeth and exit the car.
My muscles are tense as I walk up and rap my knuckles on her window. The glare from my flashlight obscures my view, but when she rolls the window down…
Then. Then she looks up at me, and I start praying for strength.
Her beauty is overwhelming. Flawless, wide-eyed, and innocent. Her petite frame has me clenching my fists at my sides.
Christ, I want to fuck her. Right here. Right now. Bend her over the trunk and ruin her.
My vision narrows, blurring out the blue and red flicker from my lights as I focus on her. Nothing but her exists. Not my ticket book. Not my investigation. Just her.
Lava flows from my heart, igniting my chest, melting away at the glacial ice within. A feeling I thought I’d lost.
Pull it together. Maintain.
“I’m Officer Gareth Rawls. License and registration,” I grunt. She already has them ready for me and hands them over. Despite her innocent face, there’s something in her eyes. Resilience. Backbone.
She’s wearing a worn-out pair of jeans filled with holes and an oversized T-shirt that looks thrifted. Still, no supermodel could compete with her. Other girls must be so jealous.
“Briar Beeman.” Her name tastes like honey on my tongue. “Do you know you were going forty in a twenty-five?”
My pants tighten as she looks up at me, all the blood in my body rushing to my center.
Her face is perfection.
Her body begs for my tongue.
From the birth date on her license, she’s also only eighteen years old. Goddamn. Almost half my age.
“You’re joking, right? I just got off work and am on my way to night class.” I may be working traffic, but I’m a detective, and I know when people are trying to pull one over on me. “I guess those frat boys partying ahead of me weren’t a problem?”
She’s got me there. Christ, she’s got me, and she knows it. She’s looking at me like she’s daring me to admit it. But that’s not happening.
I want to laugh. I want to put my hands on her face and laugh into her mouth as I envelop her plump lips with mine. Instead, I clench my jaw and look down at her license.
Her address places her from the other side of the tracks, which explains the sassy mouth on her. She knows the speed limit, and she knows she broke it. But she’s trying to talk her way out of the consequences.
Sorry, angel. Not this time.
Pain flares in my palm, and I realize I’ve been squeezing her license, causing the plastic to dig into my skin. I let go, straighten it out, and hand it back to her.
As she moves, the fabric of her shirt shifts, revealing the outline of her breasts. My mouth waters. I lick my lips.
What a tasty treat those would be.
I thought tonight would just be another slog through the black void that my life has become, but damn was I wrong.
Nothing could have prepared me for this.
“Your night class is going to have to wait.”
Her eyes flash as she looks up at me. Her face. What a fucking face. I can’t breathe.
I drag my eyes over her body, from the worn hem of her jeans to the stretched collar of her shirt. The way it drapes over her chest sends my imagination racing.
I will see her naked. And soon.
“Is a ticket really necessary?” she asks. “I wasn’t intentionally speeding, and there aren’t many cars on the road—”
Her voice cuts off as I pull open her door and snap my fingers. “I need you to step out of the car.”
I can’t be doing this. This is an abuse of power. But when Briar looks back at me, eyes narrow, questioning whether or not I’m crazy, I’m the one who’s powerless.
“Step out of the car? Why? So you can have your way with me?”
Her response shocks me. This little vixen has some spunk to her. I cock my head to the side in admiration. “Is that what you want, Briar?”
Her jaw drops. I tongue my cheek as my heart pumps faster.
“Yeah, that’s just what I want,” she replies mockingly. “Please, please, Officer. Take me now!”
If only she knew how close I am to doing just that.
“Don’t make this any harder, miss,” I reply, clenching my jaw. Am I talking to her or the erection expanding in my pants?
I’m already in trouble with the department, and what I’m doing now could ruin my career.
But I just can’t help myself.
“I get it.” She nods, stepping out of her car. “You’re another power-hungry policeman who thinks—"
A slight whiff of her scent drifts into my nostrils. Fresh flowers and citrus. I’m used to the smell of worn leather, bad coffee, gasoline, and gun powder. Her girlish fragrance sets my body humming and a pulse of blood straight to my cock.
Unable to hold back, I reach in and cuff her left wrist. Her skin is soft, like smooth, buttery silk, and my hand nearly bursts like it’s filled with fireworks. She gasps as I spin her around, press her against the car, and cuff her right wrist. Then I look down.
Damn. Goddamn.
From behind, the view of her ass is complete perfection. I’m growling as my eyes rake the perfect curves of her mouth-watering hips. Pure femininity.
No man has touched her. I can feel it. No man has had her, and no man ever will.
No man but me.
“Briar Beeman, you are under arrest for criminal speeding and resisting arrest.”
“Resisting arrest!?” she protests. “What? A girl can’t talk back to you, Mr. Big Man?”
Spunk. So much spunk.
I love it.
My pulse pounds as I lead her back to the cruiser. She squirms and twists against my grip in a way that would normally bring out my rough side. But I’m gentle as a lamb as I set her in the back seat.
My hands don’t want to let go. I nearly break as I pull back and close the door.
Breathing heavily, I get in the front seat and put the car in drive. Glancing back, I can see she’s watching me. Not afraid. It’s like she’s studying me. Trying to figure out who I am.
Good luck with that, angel.
I pull a hard U-turn and blast back to the station, the lights of her abandoned Honda glowing in the rearview.
“I worked months to buy that car,” she snaps. “If someone steals it, you owe me.”
I’m a cop. It’s my job to enforce the law, not break it.
“Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you.”
And you have no idea. I’m going to hell for this. And I don’t care.
There’s no way I’m letting her go.
She’s mine.