Chapter 2 Briar
brIAR
My momma always told me that talking back would get me in trouble. But it was clear from the start that this cop had his mind made up.
I’m being punished, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
As if my day hasn’t been crappy enough. Christie, our new waitress, spilled coffee on three customers, who decided to start shouting at me for some reason, and then quit when our manager reprimanded her, leaving me alone for the entire shift.
Tips were awful, and my tank was empty, so I blew almost all of what I made tonight at the pump. And now, because of Mr. Power Hungry over here, I’m going to miss my night class, which will put me further behind on my dreams of becoming an RN.
You’d think after growing up with no father and an absent and alcoholic mother who goes through men like dogs go through chew toys, the universe would throw me a bone once in a while. Guess not.
My stomach is boiling as I look at his face in the rearview.
At his chiseled, kingly face.
He’s brutally handsome, somewhere in his thirties, with a commanding voice that demands submission. This is a man you don’t say no to.
He’s at least a foot taller than me, built like a gladiator, and reminds me of those grizzled cops from old detective movies.
“So abusing your power during traffic stops is how you get your jollies?” I murmur, twisting my wrists against the cold steel of the cuffs.
He raises an amused eyebrow. “Using your good looks to avoid consequences is how you get yours?”
“You saying I’m good-looking?”
“Don’t play games with me.”
“Oh? I thought that’s what you were already doing.”
His jaw clenches as we pull into the parking lot of the police station, but his face betrays nothing. It’s like he was carved out of stone and brought to life. Immovable. Unbreakable.
I take a tense breath as he steps out and opens the door, taking me firmly by the wrists. He lifts me to my feet with ease. I know I’m tiny, but it’s like I weigh nothing to him.
Illuminated by the parking lot lights, I can see more of him now and find myself blinking quickly, as if the whole thing is a dream and I’m about to wake up.
This man looks like a movie star. How is he a traffic cop? I barely reach his chest, which is stretching the fabric of his uniform around it. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who goes to the gym, but he’s built like one. No. This is just his natural physique, and that’s crazy.
I bet he gets tons of women.
“Stop it,” he says.
“Stop what?”
“Checking me out,” he replies with a wink. “You’re making it too obvious.”
My jaw drops, and my cheeks ignite as he pulls me in front of him, guiding me to the station.
“Checking you out? Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Like I said. It’s obvious.”
I’m usually pretty quick, but I’m completely frozen as he leads me up the front steps to the door. This whole experience feels like a dream or a scenario out of a romance movie. I’m handcuffed, prickling all over, and under the complete control of a massive policeman.
As I enter, heads turn. Heads of other policeman, turning to look at me. Me. The girl who’s taken the right road every step of her life. Now I’m being paraded in front of them like a common criminal. My neck is hot as I drop my head and let my hair cover my face.
But all I can think about as I walk is Gareth’s hand on my arm. Is it too tight? Or not tight enough? Jesus, Briar, what is wrong with you?
“Who’s that?” an amused male voice calls out as I step inside. “Another professional?”
Something close to a laugh escapes Gareth’s lips. “Nah. Criminal speeding and resisting arrest.”
“Criminal speeding?” I hiss as he drags me past empty desks into a vacant, white hallway. “Oh, you’re really loving this, aren’t you?”
“What gave me away?”
“And what did he mean by ‘professional’?” I ask.
Gareth turns and frowns at me. “Wow, you’re more innocent than I thought, Briar.”
His words take the breath out of me. I stutter nonsensically as he pulls me into a tiny white room, finally finding my tongue as he presses me down into a chair.
“Well, if I’m so innocent, why not let me go?”
Shaking his head, Gareth cuffs me to the table. “I didn’t mean that kind of innocent, Briar.”
“Well…what did you mean?”
“Come on, Briar. I think you know.”
Being a waitress at a truck stop teaches you how to deal with obnoxious people. Drunks, bullies, guys who just want a cup of coffee so they can catcall you while you’re working. So I have a thick skin. But Gareth cuts right through it.
His dark eyes meander over my body, and I’m suddenly embarrassed at how ratty I look. These jeans are falling apart, and I’ve worn this shirt three days in a row without a wash. My hair is a mess too.
But what do I care? I’m not trying to impress this man.
He arrested me on trumped-up charges! I shouldn’t give a damn what he thinks.
But as he pulls up a stool beside me and the warmth of his body drapes over me, I realize a terrible truth: I do care what Gareth Rawls thinks about me. I do.
And what’s even worse, I want him to like me.
“So is this your game?” I ask bitterly. “You just pull girls over and then bring them in here for questioning?”
To my surprise, he looks offended. “No. Never.”
I scoff. “You really expect me to believe that?”
Good God. My face is burning. All the way down to my chest. My nipples are hard under my shirt, and jealousy flares in me as I picture Gareth with other women here, in the same situation, his eyes taking in their bodies.
“Oh, so you’re a good guy?” I ask.
He looks down at me, eyes burning with mysteries I can’t decipher. “We’ll see.”
This man scares me. Being cuffed to this table scares me. So then why am I blushing? What is this damp sensation between my thighs? “Whatever you’re expecting here, it’s going to disappoint you.”
He raises his chin, frowning. “You think you would disappoint me, Briar?”
Reaching out, he brushes my hair back with a finger, then traces my cheekbone with his thumb, stopping just before my lips. The scent of his sweat makes my heart kick against my ribs.
“I…I know I would.”
Gareth leans closer and inhales deeply. Is he smelling me? Oh God. I missed my shower this morning. He’s going to hate it.
“You’re a virgin. Aren’t you, Briar?”
I could lie. I do it all the time at the diner. But Gareth isn’t just some nosy trucker. He’s a cop. He’d know. And the thought of him knowing I lied to him is somehow worse than him knowing the truth.
“Is that a standard interrogation question, Officer? Because it seems more personal.”
Gareth breathes a hungry breath, expanding his already massive chest. “Personal or not, I need an answer.”
“Yes, I am.” I hold his gaze, fighting against the blush. “And you’re a mind reader?”
Gareth’s lips shift slightly, twisting into something close to a smile. The tip of his tongue slips out like a snake. His pupils dilate, as though he’s discovered a treasure he’s been searching for.
“You’ve got a smart mouth, Briar. But you know something?”
“What?”
“Mine’s talented as well.”
He looks at me for a moment, like he’s fighting a war within himself. Then, he gets to his feet, walks to the door, and twists the deadbolt, locking us in. It’s then I notice the mirror on the wall beside me.
Big. Rectangular. The kind you only see in movies.
My stomach drops. No, not a mirror. A window. And there could be men on the other side right now. Men could be watching.
“This is one of those interrogation rooms, isn’t it? Like in the movies?”
Gareth nods, circling around the table to tower over me. “You’re smart, too. I like that.”
My eyes move down his body completely on their own. I can’t help it. I take in every detail, including the bulge between his legs, so blatantly obvious.
Wow. Is that…for me?
I’ve never felt like this before. Buzzing all over. On edge. Jesus, I’m…I’m horny!
The need in his eyes is awakening something in me that’s never been touched. This man who pulled me over and arrested me under false pretenses…I want to please him. Submit to him, beyond just being cuffed to the table.
But I don’t even know him. All he is is a corrupt cop. A gorgeous, terrifying, corrupt cop, and apparently, I’m the kind of girl who finds that attractive. Which is news to me.
Still, this is not how, or where, I imagined losing my virginity.
I’m used to standing up for myself. And I’m not about to let this complete stranger have me just because he wants to.
“Smart enough to know I can demand a lawyer.”
Gareth’s eyes light up. The corners of his lips twist up. “Yes. Yes, you can, Miss Beeman. But in the meantime…” He leans in close, and before I know it, has a hand up my shirt.
My chest tightens and my pulse races as he cups my bare breast in his rough palm, rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“I, uh…” It’s hard to breathe. I clench my eyes, searching for words. His touch has my mind spinning and my body stirring like electric pulses zipping through me, touching places that should not be touched. Especially not here. “I’m not saying anything until my lawyer—”
“You don’t have a lawyer, Briar,” he says, his voice low.
He lifts my shirt, exposing my breasts, then leans in and kisses them both.
The care of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the confidence in his ownership of me, tears all thought from my mind.
Then, as he slips a hand between my legs, I choke on a gasp.
“It’s just you and me. And I can do what I want to you. ”
My eyes blur, then focus on the mirrored window behind him. Somehow, I find the strength to speak. “Someone might be watching.”
“Maybe they are.” He shrugs. “Would that turn you on?”
He pops the top button on my jeans and slowly unzips them. His eyes latch on to the crux between my thighs, broiling with intensity. With want. With desire.
Since I met Gareth, I’ve felt helpless. But now, at this moment, I feel a hint of something. Something like pride.
“You don’t even know me,” I whisper as he tugs at my pants, pulling them down over my hips. “And I don’t know you.”
“I could interrogate you,” he says, running his tongue across his front teeth. I can feel the hunger in him, reaching deep into my being, tugging like an invisible cord.
His hands continue to pull until my pants are at my ankles and I’m sitting beneath him with my shirt up in nothing but my panties. Wet panties.
God, this is so embarrassing.
But so hot too.
“I assume you’re the bad cop?” I ask. “Where’s the good cop?”
His brow furrows for the first time. Like he does not like what I just said.
“I’m the only cop as far as you’re concerned. Understand?”
His scolding tone sends a rush through me. Am I crazy for wanting this man? For loving his words? His dominant flirtation? Probably, but fighting against my urge to please him feels futile.
I picture him on top of me, guiding me, teaching me, pleasuring me. And then I nod.
“Yes. I understand.”
His brow smooths. The fire returns to his eyes. And then I feel it.
A thumb, slipping beneath the hem of my panties, tugging them aside. “Good. Then spread those legs for me, and I’ll get to interrogating.”