"Really? Nothing." He definitely doesn’t believe me.
"Technically not nothing. I had water at the party."
"I see. Very sensible. You were at a party? By yourself?"
"My friends were there. I had to leave."
No point telling him why I left just when the party was in full swing. I suspect he doesn't care why I was speeding and no amount of excuses would help me. If I can't even get him to smile with my flirting, I see an expensive ticket in my future. A ticket I can’t afford right now.
"I'm going to have to ask you to face the car and put your hands on the hood, legs slightly apart."
His voice is so calm but there’s a rough edge that makes his instruction sound more exciting that it should. I’ve often wondered if other women think about sex as much as I do. Ordinary situations shouldn’t play out in my mind like porn, but they do. Often.
I’m all in with the flirting now. It feels like my only hope. "Sounds exciting, Officer. What are you looking for exactly?"
"Offensive weapons."
I almost laugh out loud. My dress is skin tight so it’s quite obvious I’m not concealing anything. The only weapon I have is the hungry kitty between my legs that wants to eat him all up. Positive I will be taken to the station for confessing something like that, I keep my mouth shut and assume the position. The anticipation of that first touch sends a tingle of awareness through me. I'm trembling now but not from fear or panic, but all out raging lust. The cool night air licks the inside of my thighs.
"You really think a harmless girl like me would have a weapon, Officer Carlisle?"
"We can never be too careful, Allyson."
I love the way he says my name, low and smooth with a little edge of huskiness. I glance over my shoulder to smile at him. His lips twitch again with the hint of amusement but it never fully emerges. I resist the urge to shake my ass in his face when he bends down to start with my ankles.
Strong, rough palms touch the bare skin just above my shoes and slide up slowly. Tantalizingly slowly. He moves higher, taking his time over my calves. Then higher, his hands disappearing under my skirt to feel my thighs. I can’t help it. I let out a low moan and then bite my lip, hoping he hasn’t heard me. He pauses for a split second then continues his weapons check, otherwise known as the hottest foreplay I have ever experienced.
This is totally not necessary, in any shape or form. Who carries weapons under their skin? Officer Carlisle is having some fun at my expense, and I guess I’m having some fun at his.
He withdraws his hands and stands up, placing them on my hips. I find myself drifting back slightly as though he were magnetized. He whisks his hands up my sides, barely missing my breasts. Disappointment races through me, as my body comes alive with the anticipation of how much further this could go. The heat from his body seems to radiate into me. He's close, closer than he probably should be for a routine traffic stop that is feeling anything but. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be doing this if I was a fifty-year-old dude.
If I leaned back a fraction then I'd make contact with his broad chest. I could rest there, close my eyes and forget my troubles.
As if he knows what I’m thinking he steps back and cool air rushes between us. I shiver.
"You can turn around now," he says gruffly. It’s the only indication that what’s happening between us might be getting to him too.
I turn slowly like I'm dancing just for him. I flash him a smile and stand straighter. Part of me doesn’t want him to know how much he’s affecting me, and the other half knows I need to use my assets as much as I can. When I push my boobs out even more, Officer Carlisle’s gaze flicks to my breasts and I smile with satisfaction. Just that little look feels like a victory.
I don’t think I’ve ever found a face so fascinating. The more I study his angular cheekbones and full lips that seem to be fixed permanently into a serious line, the more I want to look.
I lean in closer to him to give him a better view down my dress. "Am I free to go?"
"Sorry, Miss. I'm going to need you to walk the line." He points to the solid line on the side of the road, not sounding sorry at all. In fact, he sounds a little bit pleased with himself, as though this is part two of his repertoire of ways to check me out. First, he gets the feels, now he’s after a good look at my ass.
I know I can do this because I’m sober as a judge, but it feels humiliating. Still, I don’t want to let him see my reluctance. "I'll walk anything for you," I say, tossing him a grin over my shoulder as I step over to the line. "Any particular way you want me to walk it?"
"Straight," he says with no hint of amusement.
I put one foot in front of the other, swaying my hips as I go.
"Toe to toe, please."
I turn around and frown at him and he shrugs but his lips twitch again.
"Fine," I say, sounding as pissed as I am.
I walk toe to toe and after a few feet, I turn around. "Shall I touch my finger to my nose now?"
"I don't think that will be necessary," he says condescendingly.
Now that the test is over I sway my hips as I walk back to him, taking up a relaxed position, leaning against my car. If this was a different day and he wasn’t a cop I’d be so damn tempted to hook one of my legs around his and pull him in closer. I bet he’d be a great kisser. Those lips look so soft.
"What else can I do for you, Officer?" I ask.
My meaning is clear and his eyes seem to flash with desire for just a second. His mouth turns up into the smallest grin I've ever seen and I wonder how many women flirt with him when he pulls them over. Even if I'd done nothing wrong and wasn't trying to get out of a ticket I’d be tempted to flirt like crazy with him.
"I think that will be all for tonight."
He opens my door for me and I slide into the driver’s seat as gracefully as possible. When my legs are safely inside he closes the door and leans in the window.
"I'll let you off with a warning tonight."
Relief washes over me. "No ticket?"
"No ticket. But don't speed again, Allyson. I'd hate to have to take you in."
"I promise,” I say and on the spur of the moment I kiss the tips of my fingers and press them to his lips. It’s like touching a statue. Even that isn’t enough to make him smile. “You be good, now,” he says and turns to head back to his car. I watch him walking away in my side mirror. There’s that swagger again that I know I won’t forget. It’s a swagger that makes me want to be bad, not good.
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TASTE: A Stepbrother Romance Page 19
