Sinful

by Lexi Buchanan

  Sinful

  Bad Boy Rockers #5

  By Lexi Buchanan

  Savor Copyright © 2015 Lexi Buchanan

  All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

  Published by HFCA Publishing House

  http://www.lexibuchanan.net

  Cover Models: BT Urruela

  Image Copyright: Photographer Eric Battershell

  Cover Designer: Robin Harper, Wicked by Design

  Sinful named by: Cathy Lasky and Maggie Steele

  Editor: Sirena Van Schaik

  Editor: Nadine Winningham

  Proofreader: Kellie Montgomery, Eye Candy Bookstore

  BETA Readers: Emma Clifton, Sonya Covert, Lynne Garlick & Radka Höllmüller

  This book is a written act of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1515247906

  Chapter One

  Jace

  “Hmm.” My body hums with desire as Savannah slowly makes her way south. Her pebbled nipples drag across my chest and stomach as she moves lower.

  Settled between my thighs, her breath teases the tip of my fully engorged cock while the silken strands of her curly, red hair fall like a curtain around her beautiful face. The soft strands tickle my lower belly, groin and thighs with every movement she makes.

  Grabbing another pillow, I shove it behind my head to get a better view of her leaning over me. My dick surges with arousal when my eyes fix on her curvy ass sticking up in the air while she’s on her knees…and I feel the first lick of her tongue as she swirls it around the bulging head. Her moan of pleasure surrounds me as my fists tighten around the sheet I’ve been clutching since she decided to move lower.

  Her warm, wet mouth starts to slowly take me inside. My eyes close with the pleasure I’m fighting at being surrounded by her warmth…and then…a buzzing sound intrudes…it won’t fucking stop…

  My eyes snap open.

  What the fuck!

  I grab my cell from the side table and stop the alarm before dropping it to the bed.

  Looking around my bedroom, I realize I’m alone.

  Another fucking dream.

  If only the raging hard-on that I have going on was a dream. The throb is real. The pre-cum coating my stomach is real. Savannah being here with me was the dream.

  Resting back on the bed with my fists still clutching the sheet, I try to get my breathing under control and focus on everything but the dream so my dick deflates.

  It’s been so fucking long since I’ve had a woman that my body has started to conjure one up in my dreams, seeping out into wakefulness.

  Liar!

  I hate my conscience right now because it’s the truth. I am a liar.

  I’ve been obsessed with Savannah Devereux since the day we met. Her petite, curvy body had me taking a second look, while her young, innocent face captivated me. The sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones draws my attention every time I see her and makes me want to hold her still while I taste every freckle. They remind me of cinnamon sugar shimmering on a plate. Her plump lips, with their natural pink tint are made for kissing, although I’ll admit I’ve imagined them on another part of my body more than once—this morning being one of those times. I’ve also lost count of how many times my hands have twitched to reach out to caress her curves.

  Hell!

  Thinking about Savannah isn’t helping the discomfort in my groin. No matter how many times I’ve been tempted to self-pleasure with Savannah in my thoughts, I haven’t. Nothing could ever compare to the woman herself.

  Which is why my last date—what was her name again…Robyn—didn’t go so well. She’d expected more when I dropped her back at her house, but what she’d gotten was a simple peck on the cheek.

  My infatuation has to stop. I’m thirty-six. I’m not eighteen with a body full of raging hormones. Well, maybe I do have the hormones, but fuck, anyone with twenty-twenty vision would have an obsession with Savannah.

  My brows pull into a tight line at the thought. She’s mine to obsess over, not some other bastard’s.

  But she is someone else’s.

  That thought doesn’t sit well with me. Since I discovered that she was engaged, I’ve tried to divert my thoughts, but I can’t after seeing who she’s engaged to. Her reaction to him sets off alarms in my head.

  He looks possessive where Savannah looks unhappy. She always seems relieved to be away from him whenever he’s dropped her off at the field.

  Whenever I mention him she changes the subject, so I eventually took the hint and now keep quiet about that part of her life. It’s like a ball of fire in the gut knowing she has a man in her life—a man who makes love to her—a man whose hands touch my woman.

  “Fuck,” I roar, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

  I need to fucking stop. I’ve tried to over the past twelve months, but I find that I can’t and it’s only getting worse.

  At first, I tried to tell myself it was the lack of female company that had me obsessing over her. Being alone for over five years put these thoughts in my head, but in the end, I realized it’s a lot more.

  When she’s caught off guard, the heat in her eyes that she directs toward me causes a weakness in my legs. Once or twice I’ve even stumbled on my prosthesis when her eyes have been on me.

  Savannah makes me crave the things that I gave up on when I lost my lower leg in the line of duty. For years after my life as I’d known it ceased to exist. I was in a very dark place—one that I wouldn’t have wanted any woman to see, or my family for that matter. In the end, it was my brother, Ryder, who realized I needed a lot more help than what I was getting. Because of him, I stopped wanting to give up on life and started wanting to live again. It wasn’t long after that when my parents got on my ass about my shit. They were tired of watching me giving up, and with the help of them and my brother, we carved out the life I have today—a life I never expected to have after everything happened.

  It’s only since I started coaching softball for Savannah’s class that I’ve started to feel as though I’m healing. I have a feeling that some of that has to do with Savannah. Her smiles can bring me out of the gloom that comes across me unexpectedly. Her soft voice when she speaks to me, alone, is like a caress over my skin, which causes me to want so much more.

  I’ve been missing Savannah like crazy since the kids have been out of school for the summer. I want the kids to come back from their break so Savannah and I can start coaching a new class. Part of it is because I want to see her, but I also miss working with the kids.

  When the coaching first started and I met Savannah, I kept telling myself she wouldn’t be interested in me because I wasn’t whole. But that’s bullshit. I am whole, and I know what I want. I just need to work out a way to get her.

  The buzzing from my cell distracts me from thoughts of the woman who rarely leaves my mind.

  Palming the annoying thing, I read the text from my captain, Savannah’s uncle—Captain Ned Devereux, at the sheriff’s department. It’s because of him and our long friendship that I’m working for the department. I’ve known Ned for fifteen years, and started at his department fresh out of the academy. Once I’d gotten my life back on track, he’d fought to get me a job, which is why I’m now a part-time consultant for the department as well as an instructor over at the academy. It’s more paper shuffling and research than anything, but I still feel useful. I grimace at the text as I w
onder why Ned wants me to see him at the department before I go to my own office at the academy.

  Quickly shooting him a message to let him know that I’ll be in shortly, I climb off the bed and start getting ready for the day as Savannah plays heavily on my mind.

  Savannah

  Watching Richard pull out of the drive, my whole body sags in relief. The tension leaves as quickly as it overtook me, I feel drained…cold and unsure of myself…of us, I guess.

  He hasn’t changed, but I have.

  Richard appeared when I was at a low point in my life with the death of my father, fourteen-months after my mother passed away. I’d needed support, which I’d been getting from my Uncle Ned, but I’d needed more and that’s what I’d gotten from Richard. He would always be around, never more than a phone call away, and he was always ready to fill the hole that was growing larger with my grief. The sex hadn’t been mind blowing, and more times than I care to admit, had left me hanging and frustrated. He hadn’t cared as long as he got off. I didn’t care because, for a few minutes, I could forget that hole that was gnawing at me. He didn’t fill it, but I didn’t need it to be filled.

  And then, before I realized it, I was in a relationship with Richard. We’d gone from casual lovers to being a couple and I still didn’t fight it even though my heart wasn’t in it.

  Before the dust could settle, Richard had put a ring on my finger. He hadn’t asked and I accepted it without even saying ‘yes’. I found it was easier to just go along with him at the time. Now, I wish I hadn’t been so lost in my grief to allow him to take advantage of the situation because my answer would have been no.

  There is no love between us, at least on my part. Sometimes I wonder about his feelings for me. He’s possessive whenever we go anywhere together. He always keeps me close and throws everyone who dares to look in my direction a glare that means business.

  Since the ring was put on my finger, Richard hasn’t touched me sexually and, although I’m relieved he hasn’t tried, I’m surprised. His explanation when he first stopped inviting me to stay over was that he wanted to wait until we were married. I accepted this but as time has gone on, I’m not sure I believe him.

  If I need to talk, or if something around the house needs fixing, then he’s always here. The sad thing is that I don’t feel anything other than friendship toward him. It also begs the question about what I’m going to do. I can’t stay engaged to a man I don’t love—a man I don’t want to share my life with in that way—but I don’t want to hurt him either.

  With a heavy sigh, I pour another mug of coffee and sneak another warm cookie from the rack before I curl into my favorite chair in the living room.

  Later today, I’ll be visiting the children’s home and want to take them some homemade treats. I’ve been volunteering at the home for about two years to give me something to do with my spare time, especially in the summer. I love all the kids I work with but I have my favorite children, one of whom is a pixie of a child named Tammy, who is four. She’s a sweet little girl, and when she sees me, her eyes always light up, even though her face doesn’t show any emotion. She always has her thumb in her mouth while she clutches a bunny the officer who’d brought her in had given her. Tammy makes me want to wrap her up in my arms and take her home with me.

  Which brings my mind back to Jace. I say back because he’s always on my mind, which isn’t always convenient. I’ve been missing him since the softball lessons stopped while summer vacation is happening. Unfortunately, not a day has gone by where I haven’t wondered what he’s up to, or who he’s up to it with. My heart thuds in my chest when I imagine him with another woman because I want him to be with me.

  Sad, I know.

  His six-foot, muscular frame towers over me and it always causes ripples of desire to start in my belly when he greets me at the field. He makes me feel as though he needs a connection to me just like I do to him. When we are together, all it takes is his smile and then I’m transfixed and forget everything but him. He always has a trimmed scruff covering his lower face, which draws my attention to his red lips. He works out, making no secret of the fact, and his body drives me to distraction…even when he isn’t with me, as I think about the hard plains I can see through his shirt. He has a bulging upper body and I’ve spent plenty a night dreaming, imagining those thick arms wrapped around me. He has a mighty fine ass as well, which I know he’s caught me looking at a time or two…or three.

  In the beginning, I’d felt that he was self-conscious with me because of his prosthesis. He’d eventually settled after a few lessons, but sometimes a darkness seemed to hang over him and all I wanted to do was wrap him up in my arms, kiss his brow, and tell him everything would be okay. Of course I didn’t do that, but the urge to do so was strong.

  Although Uncle Ned had been the one to fix me up with Jace as the softball coach for my class, he refuses to tell me how Jace was injured. I know it was in the line of duty, but my uncle refuses to be more specific. He’s known Jace for a long time, which begs the question as to why we’ve never met before. Our age difference could have something to do with that, and the more I think about it, the more that reason seems plausible. I would have been around ten when their friendship started, so maybe we have met. Although, I’m sure I would have remembered that smile.

  Needing to catch a glimpse of Jace, I’m going to bake a cake and take it into my uncle’s office before I head over to the children’s home. It’s risky, considering that Richard starts his new job at the same station today as a deputy.

  With a bit of luck, Richard will be out on patrol when I arrive, so I’ll get to talk to my uncle alone and maybe discover Jace’s whereabouts.

  The more I think about Jace, the more I realize that’s what I’m going to do, no matter how it will look. I just need to see him, and maybe, ask Jace for coffee. I only hope the opportunity arises.

  Chapter Two

  Jace

  Climbing out of my truck at the sheriff’s station has me catching my breath. The heat of the morning is already past the temperature where I’d normally be stripped down to my cargo shorts and shirt, and I’m sweltering in my attire. Today was not a casual day and I’m in pants, button-down and tie. I can’t help wondering what I’m needed for.

  Reaching the door to the building, I sigh in relief when the air conditioning hits me. Trying to suppress the need to loosen my tie, I fail miserably and end up popping the top two buttons as the noose is shoved into my pocket.

  As I approach, Anita, the deputy working the front desk, looks up and smiles as though I’ve just made her day. Returning her smile, I remove my jacket and hear her sigh.

  Anita tells everyone she’s thirty-nine, when in truth, she’s fifty-five, although she doesn’t look her age. She’s never missed a scheduled day of work that I can ever remember.

  “You’re looking mighty fine this morning, Jace Stone.” Anita crosses her arms under her ample chest and grins.

  “As do you.” I grin.

  Anita buzzes me in and I move around to her side and place a kiss to her cheek before getting quickly out of her way.

  She swats at me. “Now you behave yourself, young man.” Giving me a stern look, she adds, “You need to be flirting with a young lady instead of this older one.”

  Anita has tried to fix me up a time or two, which is one of the reasons why I went on the date with Robyn. Anita had set us up and I have to admit that I did like her…just not the way I should have. Robyn was attractive and had a great sense of humor, but sadly, she wasn’t Savannah. I find that I have no interest in anyone but the very woman herself.

  I wink at Anita and chuckle when she raises a startled brow. “I’d much rather be flirting with you.”

  I lean against the desk, knowing she will be affronted if I don’t stay for a few more minutes. But now that she’s really looking at me, I think it’s wiser to move on.

  “I’m safe so you flirt with me.” She frowns. “I worry about you, Jace. You’re a handsom
e, young man with a lot going for you. You need a nice, young woman to settle down with. A woman who can give you little Jaces, one who can give you sleepless nights—instead of the other reason you have sleepless nights.”

  As the blush creeps up my cheeks, it hits me that she isn’t referring to my X-rated dreams of Savannah, but the nightmares that started five years ago.

  Anita laughs. “Hmm, I wonder what kind of dreams you thought I meant?” She shakes her head with a grin splitting her face. “You go and see Ned.”

  Glad to escape for once, I grab my jacket and head for the stairs. The exercise of running up them to the fourth floor will get the blood flowing in a different direction than the thoughts of Savannah do.

  With one floor to go, I stop to gather my thoughts. The whole climb, I’ve been thinking of ways to see Savannah again. It’s been too damn long, and even if it’s only a glimpse, the need to see her is strong—a lot stronger than I realized before I made my way to see her uncle. I wonder what he’ll think if I ask for her number? Getting it from her is something I’d thought about during the lessons leading up to summer vacation, but I hadn’t quite worked up the courage. I wimped out, which I regret now that I’m itching to catch a glimpse of her.

  I need to stop letting her distract me.

  Yeah, good luck with that.

  Shoving through the door on the fourth floor, I try to shove Savannah out of my head as I see Ned heading to his office moments after he passes some paperwork to an officer. Ned is someone I’d trust with my life; in fact, I have trusted him with my life on several occasions before I lost detective status. I’ve been to his house too many times to count, but I’ve never once seen Savannah, or have I? Every now and again, a teasing memory surfaces of a child in a dress with her hair up in a band at a barbecue. Before the full memory can be brought to the surface, it’s gone. I know from Ned that Savannah is a lot younger than I am, which on occasion has made me wonder what I’m doing obsessing over someone so young. But an eleven years age difference isn’t a problem for me. She’s twenty-five, not under eighteen, so there isn’t a problem.