Totally, Sweetly, Irrevocably

by Kira Archer

“Sorry,” Harry said. “Tony came in an hour ago and cleaned me out.”

  Gina’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, he did, did he?”

  Harry finished ringing her up, including the empty Slim Jim wrapper she dropped on top of the pile with a sideways look at Rick.

  “Thanks, Harry,” she said, gathering her bags.

  Before Rick could say anything, Gina took a left and headed back toward the bakery.

  “Wow, no more arguments? I’m stunned,” he said.

  “Oh zip it. Seriously. Tony just stocked up on chocolate frosting.”

  “And? Maybe he’s making a cake or something.”

  Gina cocked an eyebrow at him, showing how much she thought of that idea. “Tony doesn’t bake. Or cook. If it can’t be microwaved, he doesn’t touch it.”

  “So the frosting is for recreational purposes?”

  “I would assume so. Chocolate seems to be his flavor of choice. It was everywhere last time he broke in.”

  “Allegedly broke in.”

  Gina stopped and glared at him. “Really? There’s no allegedly about it.”

  “Until we have proof, he’s innocent. Legally. ‘Allegedly’ is the correct terminology.”

  She rolled her eyes and kept walking. “You really need to chuck that damn rule book out the window.”

  “I’m a cop. Following the rules kind of goes with the territory.”

  “Yeah, well, your territory sucks.”

  He laughed again. “It has its advantages.”

  She stopped at the bottom of the fire escape. “If you say so.”

  He raised an arm to grab the bottom rung of the ladder and leaned in toward her. She, of course, didn’t give an inch but stood her ground, lifting her face to meet his gaze head-on. When his lips were inches from hers, he gave her a slow grin. His smile grew when her breathing kicked up a notch.

  “I do say so,” he said. “And unless you want to find yourself in a set of handcuffs, which I’ll admit holds a great deal of appeal for me, you’ll follow the rules. Got it?”

  Gina’s lips parted, and the urge to close the distance between them so he could taste everything she had to offer was so strong Rick nearly vibrated with it. He gripped the bar in his hand so tightly he was surprised it didn’t bend.

  Her gaze dropped to his own lips for a second, and he was sure she felt the same thing. She met his eyes again. “Whatever you say, Officer.” Her voice had lost some of its forcefulness but had gained a breathy, seductive quality that had Rick’s body jumping to attention. He yanked on the ladder, letting it drop between them. What the hell is she doing to me?

  Chapter Seven

  Gina scrambled up the fire escape first, wanting to get some distance between her and Rick, even if it was only for a moment. Her reaction to him was a surprise. It might help if she could identify exactly why. The guy was hot. Seriously hot. On a scale she didn’t come across often. He must hit the gym every day to keep up that physique, and as a healthy, heterosexual woman she’d have to be dead not to appreciate the eye candy the man had going on. He was one bulging mass of deliciousness that under normal circumstances, she’d be more than willing to bite.

  But he was a cop. She didn’t do cops. Ever. Yeah, there were good ones out there and for as much of a pain in the ass as he was, Rick seemed like one of the good ones. Hell, he’d kept her license from being revoked, so he couldn’t be all bad. But Gina really didn’t like to be told what to do. She felt that there were exceptions to every rule. In her experience, this was not how most cops operated. They tended to be rule followers, no matter the situation, and got bent out of shape when someone tried to color outside the box every now and then. Look at Rick. He wouldn’t run a stop sign to save his own life. The guy probably never even jaywalked. That was a level of rigidity Gina couldn’t live with.

  If she could only tell her heart to quit palpitating every time the man smiled at her.

  She pulled herself to the top of the building and swung a leg over the edge. When she looked up, her heart jumped into her throat…but for a much less pleasant reason than Rick’s devastating smile.

  She’d interrupted a guy who stared at her for a second before shoving a wad of cash in his pocket. And extracted a knife with a blade that was easily longer than her hand. She froze, hands up, and risked a slight glance behind her. No sign of Rick.

  Sure. The man was always crawling up her tailpipe, but when she actually needed him to be there, he was nowhere to be found. Typical.

  The man in front of her saw her glance and shook his head. “Nuh-uh.” He motioned at her with the knife, directing her away from the ladder. She moved where he indicated, nearly shaking from the rush of anger and adrenaline that coursed through her. But as she had no desire to be skewered like a shish kebab, she’d mind her manners and do as he asked. For the moment.

  He moved closer to the ladder, but then seemed to change his mind. “On your knees,” he said, coming toward her. His eyes kept flickering to her backpack.

  Gina frowned but slowly lowered herself down. Where the hell is Rick?

  “Take that off and push it over here,” the guy said.

  She glared at him. “No.”

  He took a step closer and waved the knife in her face. “You better do what I say, bitch.”

  Gina’s stomach plummeted, but there was no way she was giving the jag-off a backpack full of expensive equipment, her phone, and her wallet that contained her whole life.

  The guy looked like he was about to rip it off her shoulders. She had to think quick. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rick quietly making his way over the lip of the roof. She needed to keep the guy from turning around until Rick made it to them.

  She slipped the bag from her shoulders. “Fine.” She grasped it in both hands and pulled it closer to her chest. “Take it.”

  She thrust the backpack at him, catching him off guard. The bag slammed into his chest, and he fumbled to keep hold of it and his knife. Unfortunately, he managed to keep his grip on both. But she’d distracted him enough that Rick could make his move. His powerful arms wrapped around the guy from behind. The piece of shit dropped the backpack and tried to swing the knife at Rick, but with his arms pinned he couldn’t do much. He still managed to knick Rick’s arm, drawing a long, thin line of bright red blood that made Gina gasp.

  Rick grimaced and grabbed the guy’s wrist, squeezing until he squealed in pain. The knife dropped to the ground. Gina scrambled over to kick it out of the way. Rick nodded at her with a quick smile, the would-be thief still squirming in his arms, and if she didn’t know better, she’d say her crazy-ass cop was enjoying himself.

  Rick twisted the guy off his feet and slammed him into the ground face-first. He wrestled the guy’s arms behind his back.

  “Having fun?” she asked.

  Rick glanced up at her with as near to an eye roll as she’d ever seen him do. “Oh yeah. Having a blast. Grab my cuffs, would you? Back pocket.”

  Gina’s eyes widened a bit, but she reached into his back pocket. While it was highly inappropriate for the situation, she couldn’t help the electric shock that ran up her arm as her hand came into contact with a very firm ass cheek. She may or may not have copped a small feel before she grabbed the cuffs and pulled them out.

  From the heated look in Rick’s eyes when she handed them to him, he’d felt everything she’d done. And enjoyed it.

  “Have a hard time finding them?” he asked with a smile.

  She ignored that. “Do you always carry your cuffs around when you’re off duty?”

  Rick shackled the thief’s hands behind his back. “When I’m with you? Always. Never know when I’m going to need them.”

  He watched her as he said it, and she got the feeling he wasn’t talking about using them for criminal activity. Her breath caught in her throat, and her tongue darted out to moisten suddenly dry lips. Rick slowly smiled, seemingly oblivious to the protests of the man he knelt on.

  “You okay?” Rick asked.
/>   “No! Get off me!” the guy on the ground said.

  “Not you.” Rick pushed his head back down. “You,” he said, his eyes burning into hers. “You good?”

  That small smile still touched his lips, but Gina could see the anger in his eyes, in the way his muscles corded and bunched as he held down the man who’d threatened her. She was a tough chick who could take care of herself, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a little help. The protective caveman glaring out from behind Rick’s eyes sparked a primal response in her that made her want to shed some clothes and reward him for a job well done, and that pissed her feminist side right off. Her libido didn’t give a shit, though. She had a lot of residual adrenaline surging through her system, and the strong, sexy man who’d wrestled a knife-wielding assailant to the ground seemed like an excellent recipient for her pent-up energy.

  She looked into Rick’s eyes from mere inches away. Even kneeling on the ground—well, on a guy who was on the ground—his gaze was level with hers.

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice low and raspy, thick with need and frustrated energy. “I’m good.”

  “Good.” His own voice had dropped an octave. His gaze dropped to her lips, and she sucked in a breath.

  She caught a flash of color out of the corner of her eye. “You’re bleeding,” she reminded him.

  He didn’t even look down at his wound, but kept his eyes locked onto hers. “It’s only a scratch.”

  She leaned a little closer. “You should probably get that looked at.”

  “I’ll live.”

  “You sure?” Her breath caught in her throat. Their lips were inches apart. All she had to do was lean in…

  “Yo, you going to let me go or just make out right on top of me? ’Cause you know, I’m all down for that shit, but I’d rather you take the cuffs off first so I can use my hands, you know what I’m sayin’?”

  Rick shoved the guy’s head down and grabbed his phone out of his pocket to make a quick call to his precinct. After a quick back-and-forth, he put his phone away and patted the guy’s shoulder.

  “Your ride will be here in a few minutes.”

  “Ah. Not cool, man.”

  Gina glared at him. “Yeah, well why don’t you remember that the next time you feel like pulling a knife on someone, you piece of shit.”

  The guy grimaced. “Yeah, my bad. Hey, can I at least sit up? Your boo here is crushing my kidneys.”

  Rick glanced at her, eyebrows raised in question. She nodded, surprised that he’d asked her input.

  Rick hauled the guy up and propped him against the wall. “Don’t move.”

  “Pshh, whatever, man.”

  Rick came toward Gina, keeping his eye on their inept thief. He squatted in front of her and brushed a thumb across her cheek. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  The gentle touch and his quiet, concerned tone took her aback. He cared. A lump formed in her throat, and she turned her face out of his grasp.

  “I’m fine.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve got something for your arm. Hang on.”

  His brow furrowed slightly, and he looked like he was going to reach for her again, but then dropped his hand. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  “You’re bleeding. It’s not fine.”

  She dug around in her backpack for the little stack of Band-Aids she always kept with her and pulled them out, along with a bottle of water.

  “Come here,” she said.

  His eyes widened at her demanding tone, but he obeyed with a slight smile. She tried to ignore him as she poured water over the cut and dabbed at it with a napkin. Tried to ignore the warmth that spread through her from where her fingers brushed against his skin as she pressed the Band-Aids to the wound. Tried to ignore the way he smelled—a clean, fresh scent that reminded her of Irish Spring soap. The way his breath caught when she brushed against him. The way her heart pounded when he leaned closer.

  “Yo, you got any more water in that bag of yours?”

  Gina leaned around Rick and glared at her assailant, but he just blinked big round eyes at her and waited for her answer. Rick shrugged. Big help there. She gave the Band-Aids on his arm one last pat and pulled another water bottle out of her bag. Of course, it then occurred to her she’d have to help the little punk drink it. He leered at her, and she dropped the water back in her pack.

  “Not likely, asshat.”

  “Ah, come on. I’m thirsty.”

  She had another retort all geared up and then had an idea. She dug back in her bag and grabbed her last juice box and a handy roll of hot-pink duct tape.

  “Hot pink?” Rick asked her.

  She shrugged. “I drive a hot-pink cupcake truck. Chances are, if I’m going to need to tape something, it’s going to be on that. Hence, hot-pink tape.”

  Rick opened his mouth like he was going to question her again but thought better of it and instead just shook his head.

  “What’re you doing?” the guy asked her.

  In answer, she ripped off a big piece of tape and taped the juice box to his chest.

  The guy looked down at the box on his chest and back up at her. “Seriously?”

  “Oh, sorry.” She leaned back over, grabbed the straw, and popped it in the top. “There you go.”

  The guy opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to think of anything to say. He finally shook his head and said, “Whatever,” before leaning down to drink.

  Gina dropped back down by Rick and answered his raised-eyebrow unanswered question with a shrug. “What? I wasn’t going to hold it for him. I’m not his mama.”

  Rick laughed and glanced down at his arm. “Thanks.”

  Gina nodded. “It was the least I could do, seeing as how you got cut up defending my sorry ass. I should be the one saying thanks.”

  Even though the words stuck in her throat, she meant them. She had a hard time relying on people. An even harder time admitting she might need someone else’s help. But the man had taken a knife for her and wrestled her assailant to the ground. No matter how incompetent the little shit was—the mugger, not Rick—he deserved some gratitude.

  Rick leaned back against the wall next to her, so close their shoulders touched. “There’s nothing even remotely sorry about your ass.”

  She looked up at him, shocked delight running through her.

  “Besides,” he continued, “I couldn’t very well stand there and let you get cut up.”

  “Yeah, you could have. But you didn’t. Thanks.”

  Before he could say anything else, the quick whoop whoop of a siren cut through the air.

  Rick sighed and stood up, pulling Gina with him. Normally, she’d have slapped him away. But at the moment, she wanted an excuse to take his hand, and standing up would do as well as anything else. They left the baby thug where he sat with his juice.

  A few moments later, a pair of the city’s finest came through the door that led into the building. They glanced at Juice Boy and Rick, standing protectively in front of Gina, his arm covered in Band-Aids, and the good-natured ribbing began. Rick took it all in stride, though Gina couldn’t help but squirm every time their inquisitive eyes settled on her. Luckily, Rick seemed as anxious to get them out of there as she was. After a few more jokes about hot girls and juice box–sucking thieves, Rick’s cop buddies took their prize and hauled him off. Leaving the two of them alone on the rooftop.

  And suddenly, Gina wished the asshat thug was back playing chaperone. Because the way Rick looked at her, she wasn’t sure being alone with him was the best idea. In fact, she knew it wasn’t. But that didn’t stop a wicked little thrill from running through her.

  Then he took a step closer, raised his hands to grip her arms, and she stopped breathing altogether.

  Chapter Eight

  Rick pulled Gina closer, his patience with himself at an end. She was the opposite of everything he normally wanted in life. She was an impulsive, abrasive, anti-authority rule-breaker who had already turned his life upside down
and backward. And he didn’t care. She’d gotten under his skin the way no one else ever had. She made him laugh and want to throttle her all at the same time. And he couldn’t get enough of her.

  When he’d seen the mugger holding a knife in her face, a burning, rage-coated terror like he’d never felt before had flooded him. He’d faced down armed robbers, car thieves, and cracked-out junkies and had a body full of scars, and yes, he’d been afraid many times. But never like he’d just been.

  There was no reason for it. He barely knew this woman. Didn’t trust her. Had nothing in common with her. But it didn’t matter. If he didn’t kiss her right now he was going to explode. He’d deal with the repercussions later.

  “Gina.” Her name slipped from his lips in a near growl of frustration. He cupped her face, his eyes searching hers. He didn’t have to wait for an answer to his unspoken question. She rose on her toes, lips parted with an invitation he was only too happy to accept.

  The first brush of his lips on hers and he was toast. She could devour him whole and he wouldn’t even care. The novelty of her tongue stud sent his blood rushing south, and he hauled her against him, crushing her to him until she moaned and threaded her hands in his hair. He’d wanted to kiss her from the moment he’d grabbed her ankle on the fire escape, but he hadn’t planned on their first kiss being like this. A first kiss was something to be savored. Stretched out. Instead, they were going at each other like two teenagers hiding in the janitor’s closet.

  But God, she set him on fire. And he wanted her to burn just as hot.

  No problems there. She rocked against him, and if they’d been anywhere near a bed, he’d have tumbled her onto it. But they were on a rooftop in clear view of anyone who happened to be looking. Dirty concrete beneath their feet. Certainly no place to be rolling around getting all hot and heavy. Not good enough for her. And most definitely not good enough for what he really wanted to do.

  He broke away long enough to look around and spotted the wall of the building where the door was located. The corner between the two walls would offer some privacy. Not much, but he’d take it.

  “Come here.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the door.