Luke
Iwalk into the Rusty Spur and spot my target instantly. You can’t miss Deputy Sheriff Harper Garrett. She’s all long legs, sharp gray eyes, and bossy attitude wrapped up in pure temptation. Mean as hell, too—at least to me.
That only makes me want to flirt with her more.
The second she sees me, she gets this tight look around her mouth like she’s debating whether shooting me would count as self-defense.
Personally, I think it’s adorable.
I slide onto the stool beside her, close enough our thighs almost touch.
She’s off duty, so she’s wearing jeans. I’ve only ever seen her in that or her uniform, but the thought of her in a skirt makes my fingers twitch.
I’ve pictured sliding my hand between her thighs more times than I can count. “Evening, Officer Hot Stuff.”
Harper doesn’t even glance up from her beer. “Fuck off, Bennett.”
I get the bartender’s attention, gesturing to Harper’s glass to order myself the same. “Now why would I do that when you look this pretty irritated?”
That earns me a glare.
I swear my cock stirs. I wonder if she gets as turned on as I do when we verbally spar. I wonder if she thinks of me as she touches herself—if she imagines my mouth all over her body. If the name she calls out when she’s coming is mine.
Fuck, I love the thought of that. I sit, letting it play out in my mind, my smile growing as her gaze grows suspicious.
“Do you ever get tired,” she says flatly, “of being a pain in my ass?”
I lean in, lowering my voice suggestively. “Sunshine, is that an invitation?”