Convict: A Bad Boy Romance (25 page)

“Okay,” I say.

“So we can go through people’s trash,” she says. “
Or
, we can take fingerprints from anything they throw away.”

“I like it when you’re devious, Detective,” I say.

T
he plan isn’t particularly
elegant or complicated, but it’s a plan.

When they call, Stone will arrange to meet them somewhere
sort of
illegal. A drag race, or the chop shop where he does his under-the-table car mods.

Just before they meet, he’ll call in an anonymous tip to the cops that a drag race is going on, or stolen car parts are being traded, that sort of thing. He’ll get the guys he meets to touch something hard and smooth, like a beer bottle.

Then the police come, everyone scatters, and we’ve got fingerprints. We make some arrests for arson.

It’s not perfect. I’m sure something will throw a wrench in the plan, something will go wrong, and we’ll have to improvise, but the basic structure is there: get evidence that links these guys to my arson case.

Stone’s identity will probably be compromised, but that’s something we can at least worry about in the morning. First, he needs to be
not dead
.

He exhales hard, still sitting across the table from me, and smiles, shaking his head. Our hands are laced together across the table, and he’s stroking the side of mine with one thumb.

“I would have never come up with that,” he says. “I was just gonna go in there guns blazing.”

“Well, I’ve been doing this for a while, and I
told
you I was better at planning,” I say. “But you do have to throw your gun into the ocean.”

He looks at me.

“I’m not kidding,” I say.

“If you say so, detective,” he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I guess I take orders from you now.”

“Only about getting rid of illegal handguns before you get arrested,” I say. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

I let his hand go, stand, and walk around the table.

“Come on,” I say, ruffling his hair with one hand. “Let’s go.”

Stone takes my wrist in his hand, then catches me by the waist and pulls me onto his lap, where I land with an unsexy
oof
.

“Does that mean I’m released from jail?” he asks, nuzzling my neck.

I bite my lip so I don’t giggle, because he’s got stubble and it tickles.

“Hammer declined to press charges,” I say.

“You probably should have led with that,” Stone says, still talking into my neck.

“Was your top concern really whether your assault case was going to go to trial?” I ask.

He plants his lips on my neck, and I swallow.

For fuck’s sake, not here. Not in a meeting room.

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice reverberating through me.

He kisses the hollow of my throat and I let my eyes slide close, even as my brain protests.

Quit it,
I think.
You can’t fool around with Stone, you should be...

Hm.

...
You should be...

It’s one in the morning. Nothing’s on fire, literally or figuratively. There’s nowhere else I need to be.

...
You should be in bed?

Not the most convincing argument, at least in the face of Stone’s hand on my thigh, his fingers under my skirt. Hardly anyone else is even around: there’s someone in dispatch, one person in the office on night shift, and maybe one or two more people still floating around for whatever reason.

His hand moves up my thigh, and a slow fire starts winding through my body yet again. I put my hand in his hair and bend down, kissing him on the mouth, our lips moving against each other.

Stone brushes his fingertips over my mound, and I shiver. He laughs and I bite his lip.

“What?” I murmur.

“You haven’t been wearing underwear all night,” he says, kissing me slowly again.

“I definitely regret that,” I say when we separate.

“I don’t,” he says, grinning.

I stand up for a moment, swing my leg around, and straddle him. Instantly, I’m rubbing myself against the hard length beneath his jeans, his hands are on my ass and he growls, very quietly.

“Don’t lead me on, detective,” he whispers, leaning forward. “I’ve already had a disappointing night.”

I kiss him again, slow and hard, shifting my hips so I can feel his erection against me. There’s probably a wet spot on his jeans.

I don’t care.

“It’s not
my
fault you punched someone and I had to arrest you,” I whisper back. “You’re not the only one who thought you were gonna get laid.”

He pulls me against him, his hands tight on my hips, and I bite my lip hard so I don’t make a noise. We should
not
be doing this here, in the police station
where I work
.

But I also don’t think we’re gonna get caught.

“Any chance there’s a condom vending machine in the bathroom?” Stone asks.

I laugh.

“It’s a police station, not a truck stop,” I say.

“You think we can make it somewhere else?” he says, and slides a hand between my legs, running one finger along my slit. “God
damn
,” he whispers.

He bites the lobe of my ear
almost
too hard.

“If we don’t get to fuck again soon I’m going to lose my mind,” he says, circling my clit slowly. “And I’ve got too many prison tattoos to go bare.”

“Shut up,” I whisper, my hand flat against his cock in his jeans.

I fucking
wish
there was a condom vending machine, because—

“Oh!” I say.

Stone stops moving and looks at me questioningly, but I hop off his lap and hurry for the door.

“Stay there,” I tell him, and rush out.

I walk to my desk as professionally as possibly, past Carl the Drunk in the holding cell. He’s snoring, so he’s finally stopped going on about elephant seals.

The rookie cop is in the main room, doing something at her desk, and she waves as I come in and grab my purse.

“Heading out!” I say way, way too cheerfully. “Good night!”

“Night,” she says as I sling it over my shoulder and walk back the way I came.

When I open the door to the interview room, Stone’s still in the chair. Now he’s got his cock in his hand, and when I walk in he grins, stroking it.

I frown and look behind myself before shutting the door.

“Anyone could be out there,” I hiss.

“They weren’t,” he says.

I put my purse on the table, open it, and start tossing things out: latex gloves, evidence bags, breath mints, wallet, zip tie handcuffs.

Finally
I find the condoms.

“I’ve never been so happy to see one of those,” Stone says.

I reach over and hit the lights. The room goes dark except the red EXIT sign over the door.

“I don’t get to watch?” he says.

“Your eyes will adjust,” I say, sitting on the table in front of Stone, my feet dangling on either side of his lap. “I hate fluorescent lights.”

He’s still stroking himself, and I’m staring as his strong hand, scarred knuckles and all, moves up and down his thick shaft in the near-dark.

He sees me watching and chuckles.

“Enjoying the show?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, my voice low. I reach down, push my shoes off my feet, and steady myself against his shoulder, then kiss him again.

“You know you’re fucking sexy, right?” I murmur.

He just growls low in his chest. I’m breathing hard, sitting on the table right in front of Stone, our eyes locked together.

I push my skirt up my thigh with one hand, and even in the dim red light, I can see Stone’s eyes burning as he watches the edge of the material move up my legs. For a second I wonder if this is
too
forward, but I know I’m being ridiculous.

I spread my legs a little wider, still sitting on the table, and push my skirt over my hips, leaning back on one hand.

Stone’s hand on his cock slows, and as I run my fingers up my slit, I hear him inhale sharply. Then I start rubbing my clit in practiced circles, and I hear him exhale, nearly growling.

“You’re dirty and sexy and beautiful and I almost can’t fucking stand it,” he says, his voice coming out a rough whisper. “I could watch this all fucking day.”

“I hope you don’t,” I say.

Then he’s on his feet, still between my legs, bending over the table and kissing me hard and grabbing the condom from my hand. I’m rubbing myself furiously, heat exploding inside me, as Stone unrolls the condom onto himself.

The second it’s on he’s at my entrance, and I bite back a moan of anticipation. He pushes me back onto the table and enters me, all in one stroke, and I gasp as he sinks himself deep, rubbing against all my pleasure centers.

My hand on my clit slows, and I start to move it away as Stone rocks himself into me, lifting my leg over his shoulder.

“Don’t stop,” he says. “I like watching you get yourself off.”

I move my fingers down a little, just to feel where he’s entering me, my lips stretched around his girth. Stone grins in the dim red light, then drives himself into me again as I arch my back and a
noise
comes out of my mouth, somewhere between a grunt and a whimper.

“Plus,” he says, his voice low and rough, “I’ve been thinking about this for
hours
and I’m not gonna last long.”

“This table wasn’t what I had in mind,” I say. Stone thrusts into me again and again, filling me with each stroke, and I rub myself furiously, the sweet ache already building inside me.

“I like the table,” Stone whispers. “I’ve got the perfect view of you.”

He keeps going, fucking me hard and fast, all the frustration of the last few hours — hell, the last
day
— simmering down into a white hot heat that pulses inside me, threatening to explode. Stone hits
that spot
again and again, and I arch my back, rubbing myself and biting my lip.

I’m so wet that my fingers are sliding everywhere, and he lifts my other knee over his shoulder and suddenly drives even deeper than before.

“Oh, fuck,” I whimper, and then clap my free hand over my mouth. Stone leans over me, his cock just barely moving inside me but still pressing against all my pleasure centers.

“Come for me,” he whispers, rocking back and forth.

I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my teeth, hand over my mouth, because I’m right on the edge and I’m going to tumble over any second now.

“Come for me right here on this table, Luna,” he says. “You feel so
fucking
good that I can’t hold on much longer, and I want you to come with me inside you.”

He thrusts again, shallow but
hard
. I make a noise and he does it again and again, and then I hit the edge and go over, the blazing heat bursting through my body like wildfire. I clench my teeth together and shut my eyes, but even with my hand over my mouth I can
still
hear myself moaning, and a moment later, Stone’s hand is over mine.

He’s leaning forward, his face closer to mine, deep inside me, one hand pulling back on my hips. I take my hand off myself and snake it through his hair, my thumb on his cheek.

“Jesus, Luna,” he whispers, and then I can
feel
him come inside me, his thick cock jerking as he shuts his eyes and leans his forehead against the inside of my knee.

My own climax is still half-lingering like fog in a valley, but I want to watch Stone as he comes, his jaw flexing, his eyes squeezing shut, his hand pressing on my mouth. Even after it ends he’s quiet for a moment, his face in my thigh, before he kisses it gently and opens his eyes, taking his hand off my mouth.

We’re both panting for breath, but I laugh quietly. He pulls out and I sit up, my legs off his shoulders.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

I kiss him, slow and lazy, because even though I’m totally sated I still have the urge to feel his body against mine, his skin on my skin.

“It’s okay,” I say. “You make me noisy.”

He grins and puts his hand on my face, his thumb on my cheekbone.

“Good,” he says. “I like knowing I’m doing a job well.”

I laugh and kiss him again.

After a few more minutes I jump off the table and flip the lights back on. Stone takes the condom off, ties it into a knot, and then makes a face.

“I can’t throw this away here, can I?” he asks.

I laugh, shoving things back into my bag.

“The bathroom is out and to the left,” I say, slinging it over my shoulder. “My car’s in the lot. Get your effects from Property and meet me there?”

“What, now you’re embarrassed of me?” he asks, his smile sinking one dimple into his cheek.

I lean forward and kiss the dimple.

“Given that I arrested you earlier and tried to talk someone into pressing charges against you, yes,” I say.

Then I smack his ass because I can, and because I’m tired and have that goofy, giddy post-sex high.

“Now get,” I say.

Stone rolls his eyes but walks for the door, then pauses before he opens it.

“We shouldn’t go to our houses,” he says, his voice suddenly serious.

I swallow and the reality of our situation comes crashing back.

“You don’t think it’s safe?” I say.

“I don’t want to take any chances with you,” he says. “It’ll be safer in the daytime, but not at one-thirty in the morning.”

I’m never going to get to wear underwear again
, I think.

Then I nod, because he’s probably right.

“Where to, then?”

“There are a couple motels on highway one just outside town,” he says. “Cheap, divey, but I doubt they’re already waiting for us there.”

I raise one eyebrow.

“That where you took your married conquests?” I tease.

Stone puts his arm around me, his hand on my lower back.

“Are you ever gonna let me live that down?” he asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“We’ll see,” I say. “You got a favorite? Maybe one where the bed vibrates when you put quarters into it?”

“Whatever will take us,” he says, ignoring my teasing and kissing me on top of the head.

We leave the room and walk in different directions, him toward the men’s room, me down a hall toward a back exit. I push it open, and the cool night air feels good on my flushed body, even though I wish one more time that I was wearing underwear.

When I handed Stone my panties, I thought I’d be panty-less for the next fifteen,
maybe
twenty minutes, not all night. Going home with your date and falling into bed with nothing on under your dress is one thing.