Hard Hart: The Harty Boys, Book 1

by Cox, Whitley

  She moaned an incoherent yes before trailing a hand down over the small swell of her abdomen to the V of her legs. She spread her lips wide and began to rub circles around her clit.

  God, the sight was something to behold. Never in a million years did Brock think he’d ever get so damn lucky.

  “It hurts … kind of, but not in a bad way. Your chin is so prickly and my skin so sensitive.” She moaned again. “So, so good.”

  He wiggled his chin back and forth and up and down, hitting the underside of her clit just right while her fingers did their job on top. She exploded in a matter of seconds, pushing her hips up harder onto his chin, letting the coarse hair rub against her slick flesh.

  Seconds later, she rolled to the side of the bed, her arm casually draped over her eyes and her chest heaving with each ragged breath.

  Brock’s balls throbbed with a dull, painful ache between his legs. “You, uh … you going to let me come or what?” he asked, taking great care to hide the desperation in his voice.

  Slowly, almost drunkenly, she sat up on her knees and looked at him. “No. Not unless you explain to me why the hell you thought siccing Rex on me was a good idea.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t sic Rex on you. I asked him to do me a favor. You need to be safe. You’re carrying my child, and I think you’re in danger. Even now that you’ve switched to light duty, Slade is still a problem. And as far as the other two dorks go … ” He actually was a bit remorseful for the other two morons ambushing her at the store. He’d have to knock some sense into them later. He glanced up at her. “Sorry.”

  She let out a huff through her nose. “Wasn’t exactly how I wanted to meet your family. Dead on my feet after work.”

  A smirk tickled the corner of his mouth. Jeez, this woman made him smile a lot. It was weird. But not altogether unpleasant. “For the record,” he started, fighting the urge to squirm from the throbbing need between his legs, “they texted me before you got home and said they like you and think you're cute.”

  “You knew I was coming home pissed?”

  He nodded. “Though this kind of punishment is way better than the screaming match I’d been anticipating.”

  She gave him a half-hearted glare. “I ought to spank you.”

  He’d never been the spankee before, but his little lioness and the wicked gleam in her piercing blue eyes made him curious. “Okay.”

  Giddiness raced across her face and flared in her eyes. Before he could say, “but first release me,” she was out the door and off to what sounded like the kitchen, returning seconds later with a wooden spatula.

  She hopped back up onto the bed and straddled him again, quickly releasing his cuffs. Only instead of getting up onto all fours like a good little submissive, he grabbed her by the wrists, flipped her onto her back, and pinned her beneath him.

  “Rule number one: Never believe the first thing that comes out of your captive’s mouth,” he said, his entire body relaxing with the much-needed power shift.

  She gaped at him, too shocked to move or fight back.

  “Rule number two”—he grabbed one of her wrists and began handcuffing her to the bed just like she had him—“don’t leave your handcuffs where the captive can reach them and use them on you. That goes for your gun, your knife, your taser, or any other weapon or form of restraint.” He did the same thing to the other wrist, and within seconds, she was lying naked, bound and spread-eagle on the bed.

  He sat back on his knees. “Now that’s more like it.”

  “You’re an ass!”

  “And you’re going to be fucked properly.” He covered her again, positioning himself between her legs, tempting and teasing her core. God, how he needed to come. “There’s a power struggle going on here, isn’t there?” He grunted, doing a diabolical little hip swirl.

  “You better believe it.” She moaned, pushing her pelvis up to meet his.

  A low and raspy chuckle shook his body, and then he slammed into her with all his might, his head dipping low until his teeth found a nipple.

  “That’s okay,” he murmured, the feeling of her tight, wet heat surrounding him and making the entire world right itself on its axis once more. “I like a challenge.”

  Chapter Ten

  Krista really didn’t want to go to the Christmas party, like truly loathed the idea of stepping foot into the rented room above the swanky hotel and having to face the questions, congratulations and curious stares of all her colleagues. News had traveled like a wildfire in a windstorm about her pregnancy, and she was not looking forward to rehashing it with some and filling in the newly informed either. God, police stations could be such gossip pools. And if she thought being a field cop was bad, the gossip and rumors were ten times worse in the office. She’d even heard one rumor that she was having twins and they belonged to two different fathers.

  So, no. The idea of yuletide cheer around a bunch of off-duty cops while sober wasn’t what she had asked Santa for, not even close. But Allie, one of the few friends Krista had managed to make on the force in the past six months, was going and had all but begged Krista to go when they’d run into each other earlier in the week.

  Krista just wasn’t feeling up to it. And even though she now no longer worked nights and had bought a ticket to the party many months ago, thinking at the time it’d be fun and maybe she’d have a sexy new boyfriend she could show off, now things were different. Brock wasn’t exactly her “boyfriend,” and she’d bet dollars to doughnuts he had zero interest in coming even if she did work up the nerve to ask him.

  “You’re coming tonight, right?” Allie asked as they walked out to their cars. Krista hadn’t hung out with Allie in quite some time, not since she’d moved in with Brock. She missed her friend dearly.

  Krista made a reluctant face. “I don’t think so.”

  “What? Why?”

  Lifting one shoulder, she hit the fob for her car. “Morning sickness isn’t always in the morning … or so it seems.”

  Allie made a mock pout. “Oh, come on, you don’t have to stay late. Just come for the dinner portion and then you can leave. Do you have a date?”

  Krista thought about Brock again. He’d most definitely say no. She could tell he hated parties. The crotchety hermit vibe was strong with her roommate-slash-fuck-buddy-slash-future-co-parent. Jeez, they should really nail down a title for each other.

  She shook her head. “No. No date.”

  “Well, come with Violet and I. We can all go together.” Violet was Allie’s wife. The two were beyond adorable together and had welcomed Krista as a friend since her first shift, when Allie took pity on Krista’s newness and bought her a coffee and croissant, filling her head with all the detachment gossip.

  “I don’t know,” Krista said with a moan, immediately irritated with herself. If she were Allie, she’d be pissed right off with Krista’s pity-party behavior.

  But Allie didn’t seem fazed or irritated. She simply shook her head. “You’re coming, end of story. You already bought your ticket, and the food at this thing is usually good. Just come, eat, dance a couple of dances, and then you can go home to your cat, okay?”

  Krista let out weighted sigh. Allie could be pushy when she wanted something.

  Resting her hand on Krista’s shoulder, she gave her a friendly head tilt. “I’m worried about you. I know you’re pregnant, and this wasn’t at all in your plan, but it’ll all work out. I promise. I also hate that Myles kept meddling in the schedule for so long. You know he deliberately had our schedules changed so that we never had a day off together?” Her eyes grew wary, and she leaned in closer to me. “I’m really glad you’re no longer partnered with him. But still,” she glanced at the door for a second, “you just be careful around him, okay?”

  A noise at a nearby car had both their heads snapping up from where they’d been bent tight together. It was just another officer heading home.

  Krista was about to ask Allie to elaborate on her warning, but her friend simply
smiled, gave her a side hug and was off to her car. “I’ll see you shortly,” she called, winking as she slipped into her black Pathfinder. “Don’t make me come get you.”

  * * *

  “Nothing fucking fits!” Krista screamed, throwing another skirt at the wall and then crumpling to her knees. Her head fell into her hands as the tears came on like a freak monsoon. “I hate this!”

  A warm, fuzzy tail brushed her leg, and she reached out and grabbed Penelope, bringing her into her lap to nuzzle her, though she didn’t seem too taken with the idea of being used as a stuffed animal. But once Krista scratched behind her ears for a few seconds, her tears trickling onto the cat’s soft fur, the beast began to purr and closed her big amber eyes.

  A creak at the doorway made Krista’s head pop up. Penelope was not nearly as interested and didn’t even flinch.

  “Everything okay?” Brock asked, looking about as lost as a man in a lingerie store.

  “No!” Anger ratcheted back up through her, and she grabbed the closest thing next to her, a sexy red stiletto she hadn’t worn in years, and chucked it at his head.

  Only instead of ducking, his ninja reflexes kicked in and he snatched it midair. A second later, and it would have conked him in the forehead. But the fact that she didn’t hit him made her even more furious, and she searched for something else to throw.

  “You had to go and knock me up, and now I’ve got to go to my staff Christmas party tonight and I have nothing to wear. Nothing fits.”

  She found a gray ankle boot and chucked it at him. He caught it and started to walk toward her, patience in his eyes and stride.

  Only instead of crouching down to her level with his hand out, like people do when they’re approaching skittish dogs, he moved past her and began perusing her closet.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her throat tight as she fought back more tears.

  Ignoring her, he continued to flip through various hanging items. A few seconds passed, and he emerged with two dresses and a skirt and blouse slung over his arm. “What about these?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Probably won’t fit. Nothing fits.”

  She went to grab the other ankle boot, but he put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “Just try them, okay?”

  Growling at him, she stood up, much to the irritation of Penelope, and undressed. “They’re not going to fit, I’m telling you. Nothing fits. I’m getting fat, and it’s your fault.” Snatching the red dress from his arm, she glared at him and unzipped it. “I hate you … I hate your penis. I hate what your penis did to me.”

  But he just remained quiet and waited for her to step into the dress. Turning around, she motioned for him to zip her up. She heard him grunt as he struggled to get it up to the top.

  “It’s too small, isn’t it?” she asked snidely.

  “Take it off and try the next one.” He unzipped it so she could slink out. He passed her the black one, and she pulled it over her head. This one didn’t have a zipper, so she didn’t have to deal with the embarrassment of it not zipping up to the top.

  She moved away from him and went to stand in front of the mirror. It was long-sleeved with a scoop neck and came just above her knees. Classic and simple and hell if it didn’t look half bad. She shot him an irritated scowl. “Fine! You win this one, Hart.”

  As if appearing almost bored, he lifted a shoulder. “Not about winning or losing. It’s about keeping you happy.”

  Well, fuck.

  More tears.

  Krista’s butt hit the bed, and her face fell into her hands. What the hell was going on with her? Hormones sucked, that’s what. One minute she was a crying mess, the next minute a homicidal maniac looking for footwear to decapitate the future father of her child. Sobs wracked her body. This wasn’t her at all.

  “Shit,” Brock murmured, sinking down onto the bed beside her. His hand fell to her back. “I didn’t mean … shit.”

  She lifted her head, her eyes stinging from all the tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. I’m the hormonal nutjob.” She sat up. “Did you know I bawled in the car on the drive home today from a song on the radio?”

  His lip twitched, but he didn’t say anything.

  “A song on the fucking radio, Brock. I’ve never cried from a song. Not even the really super emotional ones that most people cry over, like ‘Cat’s in the Cradle’ and stuff.”

  Brock’s breath hitched for a moment.

  Oh fuck, right. His dad died when he was a kid, and that song was about father and sons. Shit, she really wasn’t herself. No, right now she was a terrible person.

  She blinked back more hot tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean … that shouldn’t have been the song I used as an example. I know you lost your dad … ” Her voice caught in her throat, and new tears sprang from her eyes. “I’m really sorry.”

  With a warm and throaty chuckle, he scooped her up, and she suddenly found herself on his lap. “It’s okay. I happen to like the song.” Her lip trembled. He tilted her head up with a gentle knuckle under her chin. The pad of his thumb brushed along her bottom lip. “Who are you going to the party with?” he asked quietly.

  “My friend Allie and her wife, Violet.”

  “Will that douchebag be there?”

  She averted her gaze, searching the room for those damn ankle boots. The rumble in his voice turned into a gritty hoarseness. “Krista?”

  She found her boots and slipped off his lap to go and step into them. Her brain was so easily muddled when he was touching her. “It’ll be fine. There’ll be a bunch of people there. Cops, don’t forget. I’ll just avoid him and stay close to Allie. Plus, everyone knows I’m pregnant now. It’s the talk of the station.”

  Ignoring her again, he pushed past her with a low and beastly growl, leaving the room. And she thought she was moody. One minute he was the nicest, sweetest, most incredible guy, and then the next, he was a grumbling, growling bear with more animal sounds than words. He could be such an ass.

  She went about fixing her hair, getting frustrated once again and nearly taking the scissors to it, it could be so uncooperative. But in the end, she managed to wrestle it into a ponytail behind her and gel down the top. Though she knew by the time she got home later that night, there’d be a halo of red fuzzies around her head.

  Applying minimal makeup, because she’d never really been the makeup kind of girl to begin with, Krista grabbed her black wool coat and red scarf and then headed for the front door.

  “I’ll drive.”

  She spun around in the hallway and nearly fell into the wall. The man looked delicious. No, delicious was the wrong word. Hmm, sexy as ever-loving fuck? Yeah, that seemed about right. Dressed up in a pair of ass-hugging black dress pants and a forest green sweater, the collar of a charcoal dress shirt peeking out at the top, and sporting just a hint of a beard, the man was drop-dead fucking stunning. And still, even all ready to go out for the evening, he practically oozed danger, control and power.

  He took up the whole damn hallway, and that smell, oh dear lord, that smell: Old leather and citrus musk wafted up her nose, making her horny pregnant lady hormones leap into overdrive. He tossed on his black leather jacket, but she just continued to gawk at him. She couldn’t stop herself. Panties instantly wet, and her nipples went diamond hard.

  “We going? Or would you prefer to just stand there and eye-fuck me all night long?” he asked, a hint of humor in his tone.

  She shook her head. “Excuse me?” Still not able to get over how damn good he looked.

  “I’m going with you. As your date. You look beautiful, by the way.” He made his way past her, down the steps to the foyer, grabbed his keys from the bowl, slipped into his black loafers and opened the door.

  “I didn’t invite you, you know,” she finally said, wondering if he knew where the party was and not completely sure she was ready to volunteer the information. He’d been so sweet earlier, comforting her and wiping away her tears, and yet now the bossy
, broody hard Hart was back, and she couldn’t get a read on him. He’d just invited himself to her work party, insinuated himself into her evening.

  He grunted. “I know.”

  She still wasn’t ready to go down without at least a little bit of a fight. “So maybe you’re not allowed to come.”

  He shot her an impatient side-eye. “I found your tickets to the party on your nightstand. You bought two tickets several months ago. People are allowed to bring their significant others.”

  She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Well, you’re not my significant other.”

  “That’s right, I’m not. I’m the father of your child, your roommate, and your fuck buddy. I think we’re more than just significant to each other at this point, wouldn’t you say? And I want to see this douchebag who’s been harassing you for myself. Size him up. Maybe if he knows you’re with me, he’ll back off. Might be as simple as standing next to you looking all big and scary.”

  She snorted. “Big and scary … ”

  A smirk jiggled on his lips. “You don’t think I’m big and scary?”

  Sitting up tall, she shook her head. “No, as a matter of fact I don’t. I think you want people to think you’re big and scary, but in reality, you’re just a big mushy teddy bear. It’s easier to be scary and keep people at arm’s length than let your guard down and let them get to know you.”

  Where the hell did she just pull that from? His jaw clenched, and a tension muscle began to tick just below his ear. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at her. Instead he opened the front door for her and waited until she walked out into the cool December night.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” she asked with a huff, the seat warmers doing an impeccable job of melting her butt until it was wonderfully tingly.

  “Eagle’s Lodge Resort, no?”

  Damn it. “Do you even like parties?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then, why are you coming if you don’t like parties?”

  The resort was in sight, and the idea of having Brock and Myles in the same room made the butterflies in her belly flutter around in an unmitigated frenzy of panic, like a storm was coming and there wasn’t enough shelter for them all to hide in.