Uncovering Officer Smith (The Discovering Trilogy #2) (18 page)

“Ugh, I hate you. Let’s go to my room,” I murmur against his lips.

“Why?” A slick smile plays across his lips.

“Because… people eat here.”

“You think Meg hasn’t had sex all over this apartment?”

My eyes go wide before I continue kissing him. It’s me that pulls away first, pausing centimeters in front of his lips. “You are corrupting me, sir.”

“No, Becks, I think it’s the other way around.”

When John finally left, I had missed all of my classes for the day. I’m getting ready to take a much-needed shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel, when another knock comes at the door. A smile breaks out across my face. I tighten the towel as I swing open the door. “Come back for more—Oh, Tom!” I embarrassingly step behind the door.

He pushes his way inside. “Becca, are you okay?”

“Um, yes.”
And naked!

“I didn’t see you around school today.”

“Yeah, I got held up.”

“Are you alone?” His eyes scan the room behind me.

“Yes. I was just about to take a shower.”

“Can I talk to you?” Wow, this guy does not take a hint.

“Sure, let me throw some clothes on.”

He nods, propping the door open for me as I wander into my bedroom. I throw an oversize tee shirt and shorts on before returning to the living room. “I just want to make sure you know what you are getting into.”

“What? With John?”

“Yes.” He takes a seat on the couch. “He’s not what he appears.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s a jerk. He was a jerk in college; he’s a jerk to women. He’s a good cop, but he makes a bad boyfriend, Becca.”

“Well, technically, we aren’t dating.”

His face looks even more disappointed. “Becca, do you know what he’s
done
?”

“I’ve heard some stories.”

“From your brother and his friends, probably, not from someone else’s perspective. They used to publically shame girls that spent the night at that fraternity. They made them do the most humiliating walk of shame down the hall in front of all of the other brothers. Guess who had the most revolving out of his room?”

I can only guess.

“That’s right; your new boy toy. He and your brother changed all the girls shampoo in the old dorms to hair remover. Most of them were able to smell that something was off, but a lot of them lost some hair because of it.” He sighs. “Do you know how many girls they’ve sent to therapy?”

“I don’t really think he’s like that any—”

“Anymore? Have you seen him at the bar?”

“Yes.” I have. He has his pick of any girl that wants him and he doesn’t necessarily play coy about it.

“And this is who you choose to go out with?”

“I… I.”

“The guy is an asshole, a jerk. You deserve better than that, Becca.”

“Okay.” I fold. What can I say to that? So instead, I sit back and let Tom rant about how bad John is. Slowly, I might actually be starting to believe it.

Later, after Tom leaves, I stand in the shower and my mind begins to go over everything Tom said. Maybe that’s why John didn’t want me talking to him. How can I believe that John has changed? How will I ever be sure? What am I doing?

My shower seems to go on forever. Once I come out of it, I’m left to my own empty dorm again. Meggie’s resounding absence is still here.

I open my laptop and send out a few emails about finding the homework for today’s classes I missed.

I’ve done a few assignments before I glance up again. The sad truth is, I know what Tom said and what I’ve heard with my own ears. But something inside me isn’t going to let this go. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m having mind-blowing sex, or the naughty aspect of messing around with my older brother’s good friend – but a part of me knows I’m already hooked.

When I wake the next day, I had a text message waiting for me. It was from John:
What time are you done with classes?

I decide to think over my answer as I get ready and walk across the football field to class. Once I arrive early at class and grab the seat in the back row, I strike up a conversation.

It depends.

He responds before the instructor even comes wandering in:
On what?

Whether it’s worth skipping my homework.

There’s a few second delay before he replies:
Oh, I’ll make sure it’s worth it.

He teased me on purpose. Going through class with the thought of John’s glorious body on top of mine later is torture. I even debate faking an illness to slip out early.

Eventually, the slowest day of my life passes in a torturous, anticipatory blur. My excitement blooms as I cross the football field. I’m not even halfway across when the roar of his Mustang’s engine sounds, pulling up the circle to the new dorms. I practically run the rest of the way. My pace slows when I catch sight of him leaning on the side of his sleek black car.

“You’re early. Look who’s eager,” I tease, standing a few feet away.

A smirk plastered on his face, he walks up to me with that prominent officer swagger of his. Upon reaching me, he cups my face in his hands. “I’ve been waiting for
this
all day.”

Then his lips are once again on mine, still tasting like peppermint and just as juicy as ever. He has the flawless lips, the kind that even woman would kill for. They’re perfectly shaped without lip liner and oh so perfectly plump.

“All day, huh?” I whisper against his lips before we pull away. I feel his smile as his smile stretches wider. “Well, you would think it would be a better kiss than that.” I slip past him.

“Excuse me?” John catches my wrist, spinning me around. His arm wraps me closer, before the other slips behind my neck and drags my mouth to his. When he pulls away this time, he pauses. “Better?”

I cock my head to the side. “Eh.” His mouth drops. “I’m just kidding.”

With a sly smile of my own, I grasp hold of his collar and bring those perfect lips back on mine.

When we finally pull away, I notice we have attracted a tiny audience. A few people snicker things as they pass by us into the foyer of the dormitory. But none of that seems to matter.

“Well, are you coming up?” I nod toward the entrance.

“No, you’re coming with me.”

“With you? But I just came from class. I haven’t had a chance to do anything.”

“Don’t worry about it.” John backs away and slips into his car. It roars to life. I take one last glance at the dorm before following after him. No matter how much I know I should be going home and doing some homework, the other part of me meant it when I said I was sick of being good, sick of playing it safe. It’s time this little nerd has some fun.

We somehow make it to his apartment, keeping our hands to ourselves. I drop my backpack on the couch before turning to John. He’s bent over searching for something in the refrigerator. His blue jeans strain perfectly against his round ass.

“What are you looking for?” I ask, knowing full well, there is nothing in that fridge. John, the eternal bachelor, also has something against cooking.

“You’ll see.” His voice is garbled coming from deep inside the appliance. He pops his head back out and spins around. Between his hands is a little basket of strawberries.

“Strawberries?”

There’s that smirk again. “Come on.” John nudges me forward, directing me straight into the bedroom. Dropping the strawberries on the bed, he quickly pulls his shirt over his head before turning to me. His hands reach around to his back pocket. Carefully, he slips out a pair of shiny metal handcuffs from behind him.

“Strawberries and handcuffs?” The excitement in my voice must give me away, because it only takes a few seconds before John Smith has his lips against mine. His perfect lips distract me as his hands reach for mine.

In one swift motion, he flicks his wrist and my right arm clicks into the handcuff. “Oh really?” I mutter against his lips.

His response is only a groan. His hands reach lower, lifting me up by my butt. I slowly wrap my legs around his waist as he walks us to the bed. Lowering me slowly to the soft sheets, he climbs on top of me, his mouth trailing kisses on his way back up to my lips. His fingers find their way under the hem of my shirt, hands cold against my warm skin. Is it just me, or did this room just get really hot?

He peels my top off over my head, our lips breaking apart only to allow the shirt to pass. I desperately unhook my bra and toss it aside. I want to feel his skin against mine.

I do feel his skin, along with his lips. They explore up the underside of my arm until I hear a click. My eyes follow the noise to see he has handcuffed my arms above my head to one of the spindles in his creaky headboard. My heart beats expectantly.

His lips trace their way back down my arms. I squirm under his touch; it tickles. It’s a tender cross between a gentle tickle and a glorious tease. I release a half groan, half giggle.

John doesn’t seem to notice, continuing his path down my body. I don’t know when he grabbed a strawberry but I soon feel it, slightly bumpy and cold, tracing its way down the side of my body, as well. He brings it up to my mouth, allowing me a taste. I obey. The juice bursts into my mouth, filling me with its sweetness. He pries it from my mouth and matches it with his. He still tastes like strawberry too.

He leaves my lips pouty as they crave more.

I hear him take another bite through the darkness. My stomach grows wetter. The cold strawberry returns to my naked body. Tracing a path of cold wetness only makes me grow more ready. I whimper under his touch, squirming underneath him as he traces a few more strawberries across me. One follows the path down the other side of my body and this last one traces a path down the center of my breasts and into my belly button but it continues lower. Lower… Oh my God!

I don’t know what the hell he is doing with that strawberry and maybe I don’t want to know. But soon it’s just his mouth, his tongue to be more precise. He teases me until I’m just on the verge, before he stops.

He allows me to catch my breath before starting again in glorious torture. His mouth returns to me until my breathing increases and my moans became uncontrollable. This time when he pulls away, I complain. I can’t even remember what I said, but think it was something like, “What the fuck.”

“What do you want?” he responds.

“I want you.” It is all I remembered saying. Then he is inside me. Having my hands above my head is another torturous venture. They crave to wind their way down his body or to wrap themselves around his neck. But, instead, they are locked into a useless place above my head. The sound of them clinking against the bed becomes background noise. When my wrists start to ache, I grab hold of the bars of the headboard and release some pressure. Braced against the bed and using nothing but my hips, I’m forced to match his speed. It only takes a few minutes of this before I become putty in his hands. At the sound of me losing control, so does he.

When he releases my arms from their prison, they are a little scratched up and sore. I escape to the bathroom where I have to wash away the remnants of strawberry juice from places one should probably never have strawberry. By the time I return, John Smith is snoring softly. I climb in his bed, that still smells like fruit and watch him. I don’t know how long it takes me to fall asleep, but the last thing I remember thinking is how someone so guarded could have such soft edges and perfect lips.

Waking up late the next day, I knew I probably wasn’t going home. Instead, I threw on a pair of his sweatpants and snuck into the living room to get some work done. It isn’t long before disheveled but effortlessly sexy John wanders in, wearing his plaid boxers. With all the self-control I can muster, my eyes remain on my homework.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asks.

“I thought you could use some rest.”
Focus, Becca.

“Mm, I’m all energized now.” He slips onto the couch beside me.

“Slow down, cowboy, I need to finish some work.”

“Fine… nerd.” He mutters the last part, turning on the television.

We sit like that for a little while before John speaks again. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”