I suppress the growl that bubbles up inside of me.
…She’s like a Christmas present I can’t wait to open. And I can’t decide if I want to do it slowly, and peel those jeans and that tight white blouse off of her. Or, if I want to fucking tear them off—let the beast out of his cage and rip those clothes off with my goddamn teeth.
My hand reaches down, and her eyes go wide as my fingers move towards the top button of her blouse, right between the valley of her breasts.
“Yo-you wouldn’t dare.”
“Trust me, I would.”
My fingers touch the button, barely an inch from her heaving chest. An inch from the heat of her soft, supple skin.
I pop the first button, and a gasp tumbles from her lips. I move lower, going for the next one down, and she swallows thickly, a blushing heat creeping over her cheeks.
“I— Don’t you dare or I’ll…”
I smile wickedly. “Or you’ll what, baby girl?” I purr. Fuck, her being this close is dangerous. Her right here like this, with the heat of her skin so close and the scent of her hair invading my senses. All I can think about is that time by the creek. All I can visualize is her head thrown back, her hands buried between her legs as she rubs that tight, pink, slick little cunt to orgasm.
My cock fucking throbs, straining at the front of my jeans, like it wants to tear free and taste what it’s been dying to taste.
I pop another button, and then move down and pop the next. Taylor gasps quietly, panting. And I groan. Those sounds… They aren’t from fear. They aren’t from horror.
…They’re the sounds of want. They’re the sounds of her desperately trying to hold back something whimpered and wanting. And she’s failing at it. Badly. My hand slides down to the last button, and my knuckles brush against the soft, smooth, warm skin of her tummy. She whimpers this time, and her stomach caves beneath my touch, a flush blooming through her face. I groan, barely keeping myself in check from just grabbing her, and tasting her.
Claiming her, right here and right now.
The blouse falls open, and my jaw twitches at the sight of her plain white bra, delicately cupping those perfect, pert little tits. Her belly is smooth and soft, toned from her training with the Bureau.
And I want more.
I push the shirt wide open, drinking her in with my eyes. Her hands are tied behind her, and to the chair, so the shirt stays where it is for now. I drop to my knees, and when my hands skim up her legs, Taylor whimpers again.
“I’m not wearing a wire…” she breathes, swallowing thickly. I drag my eyes up to hers, holding her gaze as the fire sparks between us. My hands slide further up, making her gasp as they reach for the button of her jeans.
“I know,” I growl quietly, the hungry grin slowly spreading across my face as her eyes go wide.
“But I’m still taking these off.”
The button pops, her breath catches, and when I tug that zipper down and peel the denim away, I don’t even bother to hold back the groan anymore. My mouth waters, my blood roars, and my cock pulses and twitches against the front of my jeans as I slowly start to tug her jeans down. She raises her ass up almost subconsciously — not fighting me, but letting me tug them down over her tight little ass and over her hips. I peel them down her long, toned legs, the fire raging into a furnace inside of me as I yank her boots off one by one and tug the jeans free.
My eyes drag back up her, sitting there in just her plain white cotton panties and bra. Sensible, not even sexy lace or anything like that. Somehow, that’s worse. Well, or better. Because somehow, that gets me even harder. There’s an innocence in those plain panties.
An innocence I’m going to take.
She’s still got that petulant little scowl on her face, which is so fucking cute because she’s doing a shit job of hiding how much this is turning her on. Those little half-hidden whimpers. That heat on her face. That fire in her eyes as she looks at me with a hooded gaze. And when my eyes drop down, and my hands grip her knees and pull her legs slowly apart, there’s even more damning evidence.
…Like the little fucking wet spot there on her panties.
I growl. Audibly.
She ain’t fooling me.
Because for all her piss and vinegar. For all her sass and bravado. For all that waving a gun and a badge around and making threats. She’s still her. She’s still the entirely inappropriate, far too young for me, addictively teasing, tempting, impossibly captivating little Taylor Bronson. In my head, she’s still lying there by the swimming hole, blonde hair around her face, tanned skin with those cute little bikini tan lines glowing as her fingers grind against her tight, pink little pussy.
Five years I’ve waited to get my hands on her. And now, she’s here, and she’s all mine.
…And something tells me, she’s been dying for me to put my rough hands all over her for just as fucking long.
“S-see?” she whispers heatedly, panting, her chest rising and falling as she sits there bound and almost naked for me.
“No wire.”
I arch a brow, fierce hunger burning through my body. My hands move to her knees, and when she gasps, and when her eyes flutter shut as my hands slowly push higher up her thighs, I know she’s already mine.
“Plenty more places we can look, sweetheart,” I growl deeply, my voice grating through the still air of the empty, dark bar. My fingertips brush against the cotton edge of her panties.
My pulse skips.
My cock lurches.
…And that’s when the explosion goes off.
Chapter 6
Law
The thundering booming sound has me whirling, lunging to my feet, fists raised. It’s like my natural instinct is to get between her and danger, to protect her.
…After all, this isn’t just about “claiming” or “taking” her. This is about making her mine, completely. And with me, what’s mine is mine to protect. Mine to defend. Mine to guard and shield.
The booming sound outside is followed by another, and then the sound of wrenching metal. Another explosion rocks the bar, and I dart my eyes to her before I lunge for the front door to the place. I kick it open, and my jaw hardens.
What the fuck?
The two huge oil tanker eighteen-wheelers are lying on their sides, jackknifed sideways like they maybe collided, with their sides ripped open and black and orange flames belching towards the sky.
And there’s fire damn near everywhere.
It’s like a river pouring out of both trucks. The oil or whatever chemical they’ve been carrying is flowing out like orange lava now, rushing down the streets towards my bar, igniting small trees, street signs, and a traffic light as they do. I bristle, but I stand fast.
I’m on high ground.
The Black Lung is an old structure. Way back, it was part of a general store of sorts. It also used to sit on the banks of two creeks — two creeks that are now long since dry, and that have been turned into both Route 44 and Timbertrail road, respectively. But that means my dive bar slash business headquarters is up on a little bit of a hill. A knoll, I guess. It also means that as the fiery chemicals rush towards the place, they start to encircle it, not crash over it like a wave of fire. Black smoke starts to fill the air, and my eyes dart over the river of fire slowly curling all the way around my bar on the hill before I duck back inside.
Yeah, we’re on high ground, but we’re about to be an island in the middle of a fire lake.
“What in the hell is…Oh God.”
Taylor’s eyes go wide, the fire from outside flickering across them as she sees what I saw past me out the door. I slam it shut though, running for the bar to grab some bar towels to seal up the cracks around the door.
“What the hell is that?!”
“Tanker crash,” I mutters, dousing the towels in the sink before I dart back over and start shoving them under the door jam.
“We need to get the hell out of—”
“No, princess.” I stand, shaking my he
ad as I move back towards her. “Running is going to get us killed. That fire is flowing like water out there, and this bar is up on a hill. Which means right now, this is the safest place for you.”
“So that’s why I’m tied to a chair,” she spits at me. “To keep me safe?”
I reach behind me, and when I yank the big hunting knife out of my belt, Taylor’s eyes go wide.
“Oh God, please—!”
I shake my head as I move behind her, the blade flashing as I cut her free.
“I’m not going to hurt you, baby girl,” I purr into her ear. I hear her gasp quietly, and I notice that even though she’s free, she doesn’t immediately jump out of the chair or make a run for it.
“I— Maybe I should try and—”
“You’re staying right here.”
My edged and powerful voice growls out, making her gasp as her cheeks flush.
“I’m going to keep you safe.”
My lips brush her ear, and I hear her whimper softly. Slowly, her breath panting, she nods. And I groan.
Like I said. She’s already mine.
Chapter 7
Taylor
I stand, rubbing my wrists, my mind whirling.
…I’m standing a foot away from Law Banner, in just my freaking underwear. Okay, sure, an unbuttoned blouse too if you want to get technical, but there’s no denying how bare I am for him. How almost naked I am, next to the man who’s invaded my darkest most forbidden thoughts for the last five years.
He moves towards the bar, grabbing a stack of bar towels out from under it. I turn and head for the door. No, I’m not running. I know what I saw a flash of though the open door before — all fire and smoke everywhere. And I know he’s probably right. If there’s a fire out there, and this is high ground, it is probably safest in here.
I kick the wet towels away, grab the knob, and yank the door open.
…And I gasp, my hands flying to my face.
Holy fuck.
It looks like hell on earth. I can see the two crashed tanker trucks down the road, the black acrid smoke billowing from the wreckage. Liquid fire flows like volcano fire down the streets, and I can feel the heat like a slap to the face. The fire spreads out around the base of the little hill that the Black Lung sits on, and I watch as it licks at the base of the dusty parking lot near the base.
And suddenly, there’s a flash.
The fire catches an old barrel sitting in the corner of the bar’s parking lot, and suddenly, the whole thing goes up in flames. The blast sends heat and sparks slamming through the air and right into me, and I shriek as I turn away.
But suddenly, arms are there, grabbing me, wrapping me up, and pulling me away from the door. Huge, big, muscled arms, holding me so tight as he growls and kicks the door shut against the blast of heat.
…And my mind goes back there, to that day. To those muscles rippling as his hand tightened around that… God that huge cock. The day I saw him with my panties around his thickness as he growled my name and shot his cum across the ground.
Law is a big man. All over. And I know that because it’s been seared into my brain for five years.
“Get your hands—get off of me!”
And yet, in spite of that forbidden fantasy, and in spite of those arms around me now, my petulance comes roaring out. It’s like part of me is still desperately trying to remember that he and I are enemies. That he’s the bad guy. And I’m the law.
“Get off of me!” I hiss, shoving at him.
“Stop it,” he growls in my ear, making me shiver.
“Stop wh—”
“Struggling.”
“Then get your hands off me!”
“That what you want?” he purrs, that rough, deep voice of his rumbling through my very core.
I pause.
Fuck.
It’s too long a pause, and he and I both know it. Law chuckles. Oh, he knows all right. He knows that there’s a war inside my head. And he knows which side is winning.
Smoke filters into the bar, maybe through cracks in the door, or the ceiling vents. It’s not enough to choke us, but you can smell it, this haziness hanging in the air. And it's so fucking hot. God, I’m sweating even in just my bra and panties.
And so is he.
Law releases me, moving away. The big, older man grunts as he reaches for the bottom of his black t-shirt, peeling it up to reveal rippling, chiseled, impossibly perfect abs and a rock-hard chest that men half his age would kill for. He pulls the shirt up over his head and tosses it away as my eyes go wide.
“Wha— What are you doing?”
“Baking to death in here,” he mutters, yanking at his belt as my jaw drops.
He’s taking his clothes off. Good God, is this just another forbidden fantasy of mine? Am I about to wake up hot and sweaty alone in my bed?
“Wait—”
“Don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart.”
Law holds my eyes, unblinking, with this little spark in his eyes as he undoes his belt and slowly unzips his jeans.
I blush.
“I don’t see you looking away.”
I swallow the heat from my face, shrugging as casually as I can, like this is nothing. Like it’s totally normal for me to be in my bra and panties alone with a gorgeous, somewhat scary, much older criminal kingpin while he takes his pants off.
“What, you think I’ve never seen a man take his pants off?”
Something fierce and dark flames over his face, but it fades as his eyes lock on mine.
“Sweetheart,” he purrs. “I know damn well for fact you’ve never seen a man like me take his pants off.”
He kicks his boots away, and the jeans drop. He pulls them free and tosses them over a bar stool, and then he’s standing right in front of me in just a pair of black boxer briefs.
Boxer briefs that hug every single inch of the thick bulge between his legs.
God, he’s in ridiculous shape. All muscles and hard lines. He marches over to a red box on the wall, and I frown, realizing what it is.
“Wait, what are you—”
Law jams the bottom in, and I shriek as water starts to spray out of the sprinkler system in the ceiling.
“What the hell are you doing!”
“Cooling this place off,” he growls. “This building is old, and the timber is dry. I’d rather my bar not go up in flames.”
“Your bar?” I roll my eyes. “You mean the front for your other business?”
He smiles thinly.
“It’s still a bar. Still a business I built with my bare hands.”
“I know what you are, you know.”
“Good for you,” he mutters back.
“And this doesn’t change anything, you know.”
His eyes narrow. “What are you talking about.”
“This fire? You holding me hostage here—”
“Funny, here I was thinking I was saving that pretty little ass of yours.”
I blush. “By tying me to the chair?”
“Are you still tied to a chair?”
I shake my head. “When this is all over, I’m taking you in. I know what you are, and the Bureau is going to know too.”
A small, infuriatingly handsome grin spreads across his strong jaw.
“We’ll see about that.”
He turns, leaving me standing there dripping wet and fuming. My eyes dart to my gun, sitting there on the top of the bar. And I don’t think, I just move. I lunge, but he turns, and he’s much faster.
I shriek as he grabs me, gasping as he tosses me over his shoulder. His bare skin and muscles ripple under me, and I struggle, but his big hands hold me tight, one pinning my back, the other right on my ass, gripping me tight.
Oh fuck.
He swears as I try to kick him, growling as he storms through the doorway at the back of the bar, down a small hallway, and then kicks the door open to what appears to be his office. I lash out, hitting him with a knee, squirming as he tosses me into the room. I lunge, da
rting past him, but his arms dart out, grabbing me, pulling me around and slamming me into the wall.
I gasp as his huge, muscled body pins me there, pressing into me, holding me firm as I squirm and try and hit him. But it’s useless. And I’m not going anywhere.
We’re both panting, bodies heaving as we lock eyes. Fuck, I can feel his skin pulsing against mine, his abs hard against my stomach. I can feel his hands tightening on my wrists, and I can feel my nipples getting hard as they push through the thin bra against his chest.
And I can feel something else. I can feel that bulge of his, pulsing there against the mouth between my legs.
It’s hot in here. And wet, water from the sprinklers dripping down our faces, slicking our hair back, trickling down our skin. I pant heavily, both of us breathing each other’s air, our lips inches apart.
Oh fuck.
This was a bad idea. I never should have come here. Not when the mark was this man. Not when being near him, or even thinking about him brings back the memories of that day. Not when the mere thought of this older, rough, powerful man turns my insides to jelly and sends the heat blazing through my body.
But now it’s too late to go back.
Now, I’m falling.
He growls lowly, and as our mouths crush together, I know there’s no turning back now.
Chapter 8
Taylor
“Bad girl,” he groans, his voice deep and rasping as he pulls away from me. I’m spinning, my whole world turning to pure heat as I feel the bruise from his kiss radiating through my lips.
“Bad girl, trying to get the jump on me,” he growls, his eyes flashing as his hands tighten on my wrists, pinning me to the wall as I whimper.
“Don’t play bad with me, baby girl.” He shakes his head. “Cause trust me, I’m badder. And let me show you what I do to bad girls around here.”
I gasp as he lifts me up, pulling me into him, my legs somehow spreading around those muscled, grooved hips of his. He whirls, striding across the room to his desk. There’s another red sprinkler system button on the wall, and he jabs it, turning the water off, before he sinks into his big, leather desk chair.
Breaking His Law: Sugar County Boys: Book 5 Page 3
