Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry,” I said softly, my heart breaking for him. “That must be—”
“Do they think I don’t get lonely sometimes? Of course I do. Do they think I don’t miss sex? Of course I do. Do they think it’s easy to pretend I don’t need it or want it as much as they do? Because it isn’t.” His eyes were locked on mine, flashing with fire in the dark. “It fucking isn’t. But I’m trying to do the right thing.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. His words had knocked the wind out of me.
He put both hands over his face. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Cheyenne. You did not need to hear all that. I don’t know what’s with me tonight.”
“Don’t apologize.” I managed a smile. “You’re only human, Officer Mitchell. You might look like a superhero—especially in uniform—but underneath it all, you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us. You can admit it. And you can always talk to me.”
A small, crooked grin appeared, making him look like a teenager again. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Cole glanced behind him. “I should get back.”
“Okay.” Impulsively, I moved forward and gave him a friendly hug, holding my breath as I rose on tiptoe and wrapped my arms around his neck.
He seemed a little stunned at first, but then his arms came around me, and I let myself hold on for a few seconds and just breathe—inhaling the scent of his cologne and maybe just a hint of fabric softener or starch from his shirt underneath. Reluctant to let go, I wondered what was going through his mind as we stood chest to chest.
“I smell banana,” he said, answering my question. “Is that your perfume?”
Laughing, I let him go and rewrapped my cardigan around me. “No. There were mashed bananas in the face mask I had on earlier. It was supposed to make my skin glow. Did it work?”
He chuckled. “I don’t know. But you look beautiful, just like always.”
My cheeks warmed. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And thanks for walking me home.” I giggled self-consciously, fussing with my hair. “I feel like I’m thirteen years old, saying that.”
He cocked his head. “Did I walk you home when you were thirteen?”
“Only in my dreams.” Immediately I clapped both hands over my flaming cheeks. “Oh my God. Forget I said that.”
He laughed. “Why?”
“Because it’s embarrassing! You’re not supposed to know about my hopeless teenage crush on you.” Jiminy Cricket, Cheyenne! Shut up, shut up, shut up!
“Well, I’m flattered. And I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine.”
“What secret was that?”
“The one where I’m a mere mortal.”
“Oh. Right.” I mimed locking up my lips and throwing away the key.
Grinning, he took a few backward steps. “I’d have walked you home back then, if I’d known.”
“Liar.” But I grinned back, my heart ready to explode.
“‘Night, Cheyenne.”
“‘Night.” I watched as he turned and headed across the lawn, then I climbed the porch steps and let myself in the front door.
Upstairs, I put my pajamas on, washed my face, took my pill, and brushed my teeth before climbing beneath the covers in the same bed I’d slept in as a lovesick teenager, dreaming of the day the boy next door would finally look at me differently. Was it possible that day might still arrive?
Yesterday, I’d have said no way.
But tonight . . . tonight was making me wonder.
Three
Cole
After locking up the house, I went upstairs, got ready for bed, and slid beneath the covers. I was tired, but I was restless too.
Okay, hot and bothered.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Cheyenne. The way my body kept reacting to her. The things I’d told her. The undeniable temptation I’d felt to kiss her tonight—like three separate times.
I hadn’t walked a girl home in fifteen fucking years. I’d almost forgotten how good it felt to be a little protective of someone. To stand there at her door and wish I could mess around with her, but be gentleman enough to keep my hands to myself.
It hadn’t been easy.
Cheyenne stirred something up in me, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Before I realized it, my hand had slid down inside my boxer briefs, my hard flesh slipping through my fist. I felt guilty about it, but I couldn’t resist. My cock was too hard and my muscles too tense, my blood too hot in my veins. I needed the release or I’d go crazy.
And hadn’t I known I would do it tonight? Hadn’t I locked my bedroom door? Hadn’t I been sitting there tonight at the pub, thinking about Cheyenne’s ass in her tight jeans, that white lace clinging to her perfect round breasts, the way she’d felt beneath me for those few, incredible seconds?
Stifling a groan, I worked myself harder and faster, imagining what it would be like to feel her lips on my mouth, on my chest, on my cock. To hear her murmur in appreciation as her hands swept over my shoulders and arms and abs. To see her skin shimmer in the dark as she writhed and arched beneath me. To hear the sharp gasps as I plunged inside her again and again, until our bodies reached the breaking point, and she cried out my name.