by Stacey Keith
Joanna’s round face looked alarmed, but thoughtful. She took two ceramic mugs out of the cupboard and set them on the counter. “Well, let’s talk about it.”
“I can’t bring myself to say the words,” April admitted. Her head pounded. Tears clogged her throat. “This…this thing. I didn’t want it to happen, but it did.”
In an obvious attempt to conceal her surprise, Joanna opened the cardboard lid on a box of tea. “Why don’t you just tell me what happened?”
April crushed the tissues in her hand. “I violated my oath of service,” she said quietly. “I allowed myself to become involved with Matthew Barrett’s guardian, Brandon McBride.”
It felt as though she’d placed a murder weapon on the table, still warm from her hand. When Joanna didn’t meet her gaze, April felt her heart sink.
“Well, that one’s a real doozy,” Joanna murmured. She took her time opening the paper tea packets and then draping a tea bag inside each cup. “I don’t need to tell you how seriously this kind of thing is taken in our department.”
April wiped her eyes again. “Believe me, I know.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“Yes.”
Joanna nodded, but April knew it was an automatic reflex, not because Joanna approved. In a state of dull misery, April watched her pour water out of the tea kettle and into the mugs.
“Is he in love with you?” Joanna asked.
April didn’t want to answer that question, mostly because she didn’t know herself. Love didn’t seem to care whether your feelings were reciprocated. It directed the course of your heart whether it was willing, unwilling, kicking, screaming, at risk of losing your mind or your job.
“I don’t know,” she replied truthfully. “It seems like he is, but I’m so stupid about these things, I couldn’t say for sure.”
“Oh, honey.” Joanna’s tone was so sad, April teared up again. She wished with all her might that she could take it back, but that wasn’t possible. The sound of Brandon’s deep, lazy drawl had worked its way under her skin. The light in his green eyes when he looked at her. The way his long hair grazed the smooth bronze swell of his shoulders. How did any woman walk away from so much male beauty?
Joanna carried the mugs to the table, added spoons and then sat down to stir her tea. April wanted so badly to erase that look of disappointment she saw on Joanna’s face. She would have done anything to make things right again.
“You know this is out of my hands,” Joanna told her. For the first time since April broke the news, Joanna held her gaze without flinching. “I have to report it. And the review board will not be kind. You’ll be suspended with pay, effective immediately. And word gets out, no matter how much you discourage gossip. I wish I had better news.”
“It’s no more than I deserve,” April said. “To tell you the truth, the thing I regret the most is disappointing you.”
Joanna gave her a wan smile. “And I won’t try to whitewash my feelings here. I am disappointed. I had hopes of taking early retirement in about five years and letting you run the department. But I like that you came to me, April, rather than waiting until you two were discovered. That counts for something, at least with me. It says what a fine, honorable person you are.”
That meant nothing to April. How did you take pride in violating your oath of service, even if you confessed to it first? Especially when you knew better than to do it in the first place. But she reached across the table, squeezed Joanna’s hand and said, “I’m so sorry.”
“If it’s true love, my dear, what we are doing to you is nothing short of cruel. If it’s just a youthful infatuation, what you’re doing to yourself is cruel. There are no winners here.”
“No, there really aren’t.” She thought about her poor parents, how she would have to call them and explain. It was going to be the humiliation of Cassidy’s teen pregnancy all over again, combined with Maggie’s loud, theatrical divorce. April’s heart went leaden when she thought about it. At least her sisters had been able to redeem themselves with spectacular marriages. The most April could say was that she’d been fired for falling in love with the hottest man in the universe...who also happened to be a felon. But she believed in him. She saw the good. And she knew her instincts weren’t wrong.
Now that she’d cried her tears, April felt hollowed out. She heard wailing on the baby monitor and knew it was time to go.
“I wish things were different,” Joanna said sadly. “Poor Ryan. Won’t he be disappointed.”
* * * *
When Brandon saw April’s headlights up the road, he could finally breathe again. They looked like eyes glowing in the night, swinging drunkenly over potholes, making their way toward him. He was just so relieved she’d come.
But now he’d have to tell her things that he didn’t particularly look forward to telling her. Once she found out Long Jon was wanted for questioning in a felony, what was going to stop her from turning around and marching right out that door? Plus Brandon would have a hard time making a case for being on the straight and narrow if she thought he was guilty by association. But friends were friends—even if they were criminals.
Ducking back into the house, he yelled to Matthew, who was watching TV in the next room, “She’s here.”
There was grumbling and then the TV powering off. “Don’t know why it’s always me who has to leave.”
“When you’re a big motocross star, you can buy a dozen TVs and put them all in your bedroom,” Brandon said. “Until then, my house, my rules.”
“Okay, Dad.” Matthew shuffled off to his bedroom and closed the door.
Dad, my ass. Brandon went back outside and waited while April parked the car. Always with her there was this sense of racing excitement, this need, like if he didn’t touch her right away he might explode.
But he wanted more, goddammit. He wanted her, out in the open, no more sneaking around.
April got out of her car and then walked over to him, the wind gusting strands of hair across her face. But he could see from her expression that something was terribly wrong.
He went to her and gathered her up against him. Desire roared like a brushfire, but Brandon ignored that and focused on her, all softness and warmth in a world that was none of those things. “What happened?”
For a second, she didn’t say anything but leaned her cheek against his chest. “The worst day of my life…or possibly the best day of my life. I can’t decide.”
Brandon wondered what he was supposed to do here. Sometimes women had problems that you could fix with tools. Or your tool, depending on the problem. Other times, shit went wrong that you couldn’t fix at all, but that was when they expected you to listen. The rules were very confusing.
He steered her toward the backyard. “I have something to show you.”
A live oak spread its leafy silhouette across a yellow half-moon. Crickets grated away in the darkness. Brandon hoped there was enough light to see what he’d made for her, which was a papasan chair, complete with cushion, that he’d suspended from the branch of his tree. Matthew had snorted when he’d seen it, of course—”You are so pussy-whipped”—but Brandon wanted April to feel comfortable there.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, it’s wonderful!”
He held it still for her while she climbed inside.
“I feel like I’m flying,” she said.
Fortunately, there was room enough for two. He leaned back, put his arm around her and rested her head against his shoulder.
“You did this for me?” she asked.
“Do you like it?”
“Like it? I love it.” She snuggled into him and despite all the crap life had thrown at him lately, he felt like he’d invented the moon, the tree, the night, all of it.
If this was pussy-whipped? Fucking bring it.
“Okay, so what happened?” he ask
ed.
“I went to my boss and told her everything,” she said.
There was a moment of silence while his heart did a sideways lurch.
“You told her about us?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He waited, still trying to wrap his head around it. “Did somebody find out and then you felt you had to explain or…”
“No, I just told her. Lying is the pits. I had no idea how awful it was until I was forced to do it. But you know what?” She gazed up at him in the moonlight and Brandon traced his fingers down the side of her beautiful face. His pulse leaped. He had a hard time remembering words when she was this close. It made him feel like he was Matthew’s age again.
“What?” he asked her softly.
“I’m just glad to have it out there, you know? No matter what happens, I’m going to be okay. It didn’t really sink in until I was driving home. But the most important thing in life is living an honest one. No secrets. No shame.”
She was crazy, of course. That might have been what he loved the most about her. Principles were expensive things to have. Most of the people he knew couldn’t afford them.
“You know what this means?” she said excitedly. “It means I get to go riding through Cuervo on the back of your Harley.”
“You go all in, don’t you?”
Her eyes blazed when she looked up at him and it felt as though every inch of his body had been bathed in their soft blue heat. “You taught me that. All in is the only way to go.”
Fuck telling her about Long Jon. It could wait.
Leaning over, he claimed her soft lips, tasting them, savoring, deepening. Her fingers went to his hair, tugging off the leather strap, and then his hair fell free.
The tip of her tongue lightly traced his. There was so much hunger in her kiss. It made him think she might be ready for more than just kisses this time. God, he hoped so. He’d been waiting to introduce her to the other side of the equation, the one that made it clear what life was all about. But he needed to know she was ready. Truly ready. Her first time had to be perfect—and he was prepared to do it right or at least die trying.
But he was kissing the woman he loved. A woman whose innocence had nothing to do with her body and everything to do with her heart. He’d never met anyone like her in the whole wide world and never would again. That was what made her irresistible. That was why he found himself melting into the hottest kiss of his life.
His gaze slid down the front of her blouse. The first few buttons were undone, revealing skin so pale, so unlike his, it glowed like magnolia petals in the moonlight. Everything that made her April, that made her different, was a turn-on.
Where he was dark, she was light. Where she was soft, he was hard.
Rock hard.
He knew that beneath her silken skin beat the heart of a wannabe bad girl in good girl clothing. And as he measured the ferocity of her kiss, and brushed the tips of his fingers across the stiff peaks of her breasts, he felt them straining for his attention.
All these years, he’d thought he was free. Master of the open road. Beholden to no one. Being with April taught him the limitations of that belief. Real freedom came from giving your heart to someone, not from keeping it on ice.
Loving April had stripped him of his chains.
He couldn’t say why exactly, not in words. But the deeper he let himself fall in love with her, the freer he became. Maybe it wouldn’t always be easy. Maybe the responsibility of having a relationship would chafe.
But there was no doubt in his mind that April was the one.
He lifted his hands back to her breasts, pinching those hard tips between his thumb and forefinger, teasing and rolling them, right through her blouse. Her breathing came in shallow gasps and with dark satisfaction he drank her moans. He knew she was sensitive there, more than most women even, and their time together always included lots of attention to her breasts. The flimsy satiny material of her bra made the sensation even more exquisite, he knew.
Hell, he intended to drive her crazy.
Unfastening a few more buttons, he parted her blouse and revealed her bra. A growl of male approval sounded in his throat. He wasted no time closing his mouth around the peaks, licking and tugging until she shuddered so violently, he thought she might come from that alone. Her hands were in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him wince. But he loved that, too.
That’s right, baby. Show me how bad you want it.
He never wanted her to play a role for him, although some women acted the way they thought he wanted them to act, but that wasn’t what he was looking for. What got him high was this. Just this. Real passion.
Brandon didn’t want April to pretend to be submissive or fiery or plain slutty like Roxanne. He wanted to feel the echoes of his touch in the way she responded to him.
There was a connection that happened when a woman gave up the controls and let a man drive for a while. Maybe April’s very innocence was the thing that made her so open and genuine. He knew she trusted him, and he never wanted to betray that trust.
Brandon closed his eyes and dove in again, circling her sensitive tips with his tongue and then drawing his lips slowly away from them until they released. Her responsiveness was killing him.
“Please,” she whispered. “Take me to your room. I don’t care anymore. I just want to be naked with you.”
Inside his jeans, his cock reared. These weeks had been tough. Brandon just figured at some point they would wind up at her house, where she felt more comfortable. But now, with everything that had happened, if he and April were going to go this distance, it would have to be here. Jesus Christ, he didn’t think he could wait any longer.
“Are you sure?” he said. “I want you to be ready, really ready. Emotionally, I mean.”
The wistfulness of her smile pierced his heart. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”
He didn’t know how he made it to the bedroom. He was glad he’d changed everything around in there and cleaned the room. Fresh sheets on the brass four-poster, which he’d shoved under the window. Soft lighting from a bedside lamp. Boots in the closet instead of tossed under the bed. He wanted things to be nice for April.
And now he was finally going to be rewarded for his efforts. April naked in his bedroom would be a whole different kind of visual treat from April naked in the backseat of her car. He could hardly breathe he was so excited.
Once the door was locked, an entire world of possibilities opened up.
Gently, he clasped her face in his hands and gave her the slow, drugging kisses she liked so well. The problem was, he should have spent more time in a cold shower. His excitement level was off the charts. Brandon knew he had done a lot of fucking in his life, but he’d never made love. Not like this. And nothing prepared him for the sheer intensity of being with her.
She even tasted different in his bedroom. Sweeter. Hotter.
“You have to show me,” she said. “I don’t know how this works. I mean, I know what goes where, but…I’m a little nervous.”
“We can stop at any time,” he said, even though it would kill him.
She bit her lip. Shyly, she said, “Can I look at you?”
Brandon shed his clothes like a snakeskin, first the T-shirt, then his boots and then his jeans. Her eyes flickered in a soft wondering awe that went straight to his cock. But he had to go slow with her, had to, even though instinct told him to throw her on the bed and rut her senseless.
April ran her hands reverently down his arms and chest, lingering where she pleased, exploring him as though he were something rare and precious, but also dangerous. He let her play, even though the softness of her fingertips made the hair stand up on his arms. And there was his cock, which throbbed and twitched and loudly made its presence known. When she touched that, too, timidly, he gave a convulsive shudder.
&n
bsp; Holy crap.
“I can’t wrap my hand around you,” she said breathlessly. “Is that…normal?”
Normal. “I can’t say,” he muttered. The sensation of her hand had the blood draining from one head to another, and hell, there was plenty of that there already. How did you tell a woman who’d never held an erect penis that your sheer size might be a problem for someone who’d never had sex?
Slowly, slowly, he told himself. Don’t be greedy. Except that he was feeling very fucking greedy.
Forcing himself not to rush, Brandon unbuttoned the rest of her blouse. He pushed the material away, baring her shoulder, and then he pressed his lips to her damp flesh. Like a cat leaning in to be petted, she arched her throat, and he kissed that, too, riding patience with a hard bit. Her first experience had to be as painless as possible. It was up to him to make sure of that.
By the time he removed her blouse and then undid the zipper on her skirt, which floated to her feet, it was his turn to marvel. She took his breath away. April shyly unfastened her bra and let it drop to the floor, but she had no reason to be ashamed. Brandon’s heart was pounding so hard, he was surprised it didn’t jump out of his chest.
April was all curves and creamy skin. Brandon was so hard, he hurt. She was so much more than he’d even imagined—and he’d imagined a lot. April was a mixture of innocence and carnality. For a second, his mouth went dry and he couldn’t speak. All he could do was stare at her and hope he didn’t do something he’d hate himself for later.
He watched her shiver with pent-up desire. It was the last stake in his coffin when she slid that scrap of pink lace panties down her legs and kicked it aside. Now she was fully naked, the hair below only a few shades darker than the hair on her head.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. He didn’t trust himself to say more than that because his voice might crack. He actually saw how swollen and slippery she was, which made the dark heat inside him rise that much faster.
He had to get what was left of his mind together. There were things he needed to do, necessary things, requiring skill and attention.
“Get on the bed,” he growled, intending to soften it with a smile, but the violence of his need made smiling impossible. Not when the only thing he could think about was burying himself inside of her, that moment of bliss when the slick walls of her sex would grip him tight enough to make his breath catch.
