by Tiffani Lynn
She smiles at the mention of Ahmod. “I grew up in Sunnyville. I love it here but I wanted to see some new places and try new things. In fact, Ahmod encouraged that. So when I graduated the academy, I started looking for jobs all over. Places like Washington state, Oregon, Colorado, Nevada, and even New York City. I was offered jobs in three of those places and after visiting them all, I chose Colorado Springs. When I’m not working, I like being outdoors, and there was plenty to do in my off time there. The people were friendly and I loved the chief of police there. They were very proactive in recruiting and hiring female officers, and had a track record of getting stuff done in the community, both in service and volunteer avenues. I loved it there.” Her fingers fidget with the fork sitting in front of her.
“Why did you come back?”
“My mom died and I knew my dad couldn’t handle Sam alone.”
“He’s pretty high-functioning; I think they would have been okay.”
“Maybe for now, but my mom handled everything for them, including providing Sam with work. Besides, my dad is getting older. I didn’t want to have any undue stress on him. Coming home just felt like the right thing to do and I’m glad I did it. It’s nice to be here for neighborhood parties and to hang out with Sam. This really is a nice place to live.” She leans back and pauses before asking, “What made you choose Sunnyville? It’s not somewhere I would guess a boxing champion would randomly settle down.”
“After Lou, my coach, died, I fought my last fight and instead of partying the night away with my friends, I went to Lou’s house and hung out there alone. I needed fresh air and room to breathe. I wasn’t dealing with Lou’s death very well. So a couple days later, I met with the lawyer about his estate and then jumped on my bike and took off on a road trip with no particular destination in mind.” I shrug, unable to explain how winning didn’t mean as much with Lou gone. Not having his look of satisfaction and elation in my corner after the win took away the joy. I was lost and it still feels that way some days.
“That still doesn’t explain settling down here though.”
“I rode around from state to state for about six months, stopping at different gyms to train and visit old friends. There was a wreck on the highway that had it backed up forever as I was heading home, so I found an alternate route that took me through here. I stopped and ate at the diner, walked around a little and realized it felt comfortable. I wasn’t in a hurry to leave. The people were friendly and it was just a nice town.”
“Have you been back home or did you just stay here?”
“I only stayed two nights here that first time and then I went back to L.A. I couldn’t stop thinking about this town, so I called a realtor here and told her what I wanted for my gym. Two weeks later, I was making an offer on the building and moving into an apartment. My buddies that you met the first day, helped me move here and set up the gym.”
“You picked up your whole life and moved because the town felt comfortable?” She’s clearly flabbergasted.
“When you really think about it, you did the same with Colorado Springs.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“I must have done okay because I don’t regret it. I’m making friends. The gym is growing a little bit at a time. It’s all good.”
Our server returns with garlic knots and places them between us.
“Tell me about your mom.”
The corner of her mouth slides up. “She was amazing. Efficient, helpful, excellent at multitasking, hard-working and loving. Of course, like me, she had the red hair and the temper to match. She was pretty easygoing until something set her off and then she was like a volcanic eruption. That’s the only thing I don’t miss.”
“What could you have possibly done to get you in trouble?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t ask about my past. I’m sure she wouldn’t be pleased about the crowd I ran around with or the trouble I got into.
“You’ve met the Malone boys, right? Grady and Grayson were in my grade all the way through school, and because our parents were friends, we hung out all the time. We weren’t bad, or at least not too bad, but we could find trouble. In second grade, we discovered whoopee cushions. We thought they were the funniest things. Our teacher always had a big shawl hanging all over her chair, so we put a whoopee cushion under it so when she sat down, it would sound like she farted. One of the boys, probably Grady, decided it would be funnier if it sounded juicy, so he filled it up halfway with water. Clearly, we didn’t think that one all the way through. My job was to distract Mrs. Warnock while they got it set up. I did my part. When the teacher sat back down, it made a pop noise, but not the farting one. It exploded and got her dress, her chair and the floor all around it wet. Although we got the laughs we wanted from the class, we didn’t get a good response from the teacher, the principal or our parents. We spent the next two weeks picking up trash around the school after school and doing chores we didn’t enjoy at our houses. Our mothers were embarrassed. I would say that our dads were too, but I heard them talking and laughing about it at a barbecue later that year, so I think they were okay.” I laugh at her story. I can picture her and those Malone boys running around as kids.
“Looks like you all grew up okay. They’re good guys.”
“Yeah, they are. I appreciate their friendship, even when it’s gotten me in trouble.” She smiles bigger this time.
Throughout dinner, conversation flows a little more smoothly. I even manage to make her laugh at one point with stories of some of my friends from back in L.A. When the server offers dessert, I half expect her to decline like a lot of women I’ve dated, but instead her enthusiastic answer of “Hell yeah!” makes me chuckle. After I pay, I lead her out of the restaurant with my hand at the small of her back.
“Mind if we take a walk? The weather is too nice to pass up,” I ask, hoping to prolong our evening.
“Sure, that sounds good,” she replies with a smile. I reach for her hand and thread my fingers through hers. Her hand is small in mine and although I know she can take care of herself, it makes me feel more masculine to note the differences between us. Not that I’m a caveman or anything; it just feels good.
“So, why aren’t you dating anyone?” I ask, trying my best to keep my tone light.
“No one around here really interests me, I guess. It seems like I’ve grown up with most of the men my age in town, so it’s hard to see them as something other than Sandbox Sam or Booger Boy Bobby. No one is beating down my door, so I’m sure they can’t see me as anything other than Carrottop Collins, either. What about you?”
“Since I saw you, no one else has been of any interest. I haven’t ever dated anyone seriously, prior to moving here. I was too busy training for a fight or recovering from a fight and then repeating the cycle.”
“All the movies and television shows make it seem like hot fighters have chicks all over them. What makes you different?”
“So you think I’m hot?” I ask, feeling playful.
“I… well…” Her stammering is cute.
I wink at her to let her know I’m kidding, and she blushes harder. “I don’t know. I noticed beautiful women and there was always an abundance of those hanging around the fights and fighters, but I learned early on that they were more interested in the fame that might come with being with a boxer than the man himself. Of course, there are always exceptions to that, but I never felt like giving that a shot. I would go out on a couple of dates, maybe even sleep with a woman here or there, but my career has always been the focus. I wanted to make Lou proud.”
“You miss him, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do. He was the closest thing I had to a dad, but he was also my best friend.”
“Similar to my mom and Sam. She was his boss, his mom and his best friend. I’m sorry,” she says softly.
I stop walking and turn toward her. I haven’t had anyone to talk to since Lou died. My buddies were around but I can’t get all sentimental with those guys; we don’t have that kind of rel
ationship. I slide my hand along her jaw and sift my fingers in her hair. Her emerald eyes hold mine, waiting to see what I’m going to do. I know we’re in the middle of the sidewalk, under a streetlamp, but there aren’t many people out here tonight. The need to kiss her is too strong to ignore so I lean down and take her mouth in a bold kiss. I half expect her to push me away and cuss me out, but she doesn’t. Her hands travel around my waist and grip my shirt tight. I sip at her lips and tongue, worshiping her as I move. She gives as good as she gets, until I pull away and stare at her.
“What was that?” she asks, breathless.
“I’ve wanted to do that all night and when you showed me your soft side, I couldn’t seem to control myself.”
Her eyes narrow. “I don’t have a soft spot. I’m a badass cop!”
“I know; that’s why I had to taste you while you had your alter ego out in plain view.” She slugs me in the arm and I laugh and wrap my other arm around her this time, and continue walking.
Ten
Collins
My heart hasn’t ever pounded this hard during a date and especially not during a kiss. Sure, I’ve been a little nervous waiting for that first kiss, but never consumed by the kiss itself. It was incredible. So far, I like everything about Keegan now that I’ve stopped trying to villainize him at every turn. But dear Lord, staring across the table into those heavy lashed, chocolate eyes all through dinner was amazing. Every time he smiled at me, my nipples tingled and hardened. How does that happen? I’ve never had that kind of reaction to a man. I had a decent sex life in Colorado, but I was never ready to jump in the sack after a meal, a kiss and some hand-holding.
As we’re driving back to my place, I’m wondering if I should invite him in. Is that asking for trouble or for him to get the wrong idea? If I invite him in, what do I want to happen? More of that kissing for sure, but I don’t know if I can shut things down before they get too far with him. That kiss was seriously magical. My heart flutters just thinking about him kissing me and maybe moving his lips south on my body. I need to stop this train of thought or I’ll be panting in the seat next to him.
I should have thought of this beforehand, but I was more interested in making myself think the date was going to be a bomb and how I would brush him off with a headache at the end of the night. Instead, I’m sitting here thinking of ways to make him stay without seeming too much like a hussy. What if he shoots me down? What if he’s not feeling what I’m feeling right now? That kiss on the sidewalk may just be how he kisses on every date. I take a deep breath and look out the windshield.
When we finally reach my house, he walks me to the door and I’m still trying to decide what to do. We stop on the porch and I turn to face him. Swiftly, he pulls me in for another kiss. This time, my body presses against his, my hands rest on his chest and I feel his heart pounding just like mine—in double time—below the fabric of his shirt.
“Would you like to come in before we give my neighbors a show?” I ask breathlessly.
“Yes,” he whispers and nods a little. I break away and pull out my keys, fumbling to push them in the lock. Once we’re inside, he spins me and pins me with my back against the door and goes after my mouth like a starving man. I yank his shirt out of his jeans and run my hands up the smooth skin of his back. God, Keegan’s muscles have muscles. I’ve never been this intimate with a guy who is this fit and muscular. Who knew I’d be this starved for taut skin over defined muscles?
“Collins,” he breaths my name, like he can’t get enough. “Tell me to stop.”
“I can’t,” I declare as I go in for more. “You feel so good.”
With a primal growl that both surprises and excites me further, he grips my denim skirt and yanks it up, then lifts me up by my butt. “Wrap your legs around me, little ginger.”
Without hesitation, I hop up, and the minute my core connects with his hardness, I release a moan like I’ve never heard before. It’s been so long and the stimulation is almost enough to push me over the edge. My back is against the door again and he grinds against me. “Yes, yes, yes,” I cry out, needing more, so much more.
He turns and carries me to the couch and plops down with me astride him. This is better for me. I have more control of the situation. I can grind against him like this. I roll my hips once and realize that I’m in the perfect spot. Then I lean in and lead the kiss this time, nipping his lower lip with my teeth a little. When I lean back to grind again, he grips the bottom of my shirt and whips it over my head. I follow suit and pull his off. The sight of those enormous pecs and shoulders is too much. I scrape my fingers down them, tweaking his nipples as I go. His hips thrust up as he runs his hands all over my torso, until he reaches my bra, drawing the cups down low to release the nipples. The pink peaks are tight and aching. “Put your mouth on me,” I beg, running my hands up his neck and into his short dark hair. When his lips close over the needy flesh, I shudder, pushing closer to the point of no return.
“How far do you want to go, little ginger?” he asks, his voice deep and almost desperate as his cock strains against his zipper and me.
Oh God, this is the worst time to ask because I want to go all the way. Right here, right now. But I know that’s a bad idea. Hell, at the beginning of the week I practically hated the guy. Physically, I’ve been attracted to him since the moment I set eyes on him, but I didn’t want anything to do with him until the last couple of days. Now I’m ready to spread my legs and ride him like I’ve never ridden a man before. That’s insane. I’ve totally lost it.
Just when I’m certain my head is going to explode from thinking too hard in the middle of all this, he wraps his arms around me and flips us so my back is to the couch cushions. He slides to the floor on his knees and rips my silky pink panties from my body in one quick tug. Holy crap! Then his hands spread my legs wide and his breath caresses the lips of my sex.
“What are you doing?” I ask, straining to look down my body at him, my whole body quivering. His fingers open me up and his tongue takes a delicious swipe over the most sensitive spot on my body, and my legs wrap around his shoulders, holding him where he is. Only one man has gone down on me previously and it was a mediocre experience for the whole ten minutes it lasted. This is extraordinary after only half a second. How did he get so good at this? In no time, he has me squirming, moaning and groaning as he licks, sucks, and fingers me right to the brink of beautiful insanity. When I’m so close I think I’ll cry, I beg him, “Please, please, please don’t stop. I need it. Oh God, I need more!”
Keegan lifts his head slightly and looks at me. “You better call my name when you come.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” comes my hasty response.
He wraps his lips around my clit and sucks hard, sending me over the edge, screaming his name as my body shakes and bucks. I finally collapse, sweaty and spent, against the couch. He climbs up on the couch, between my legs, and when he stretches his big body the length of mine and connects with my core, I realize he’s had no relief. I pull his face down to mine and kiss him hard. He tastes of me and, oh Lord, if that doesn’t turn me on again.
He pulls back and I stare into his hooded eyes. He needs more. He deserves more. “Sit up,” I command. It’s in his eyes that he thinks I’m about to bail on him. I move too quickly for him to protest or ask what’s going on, dropping down between his knees. My hands run up his thick thighs until I reach the button and zipper of his jeans. My hand slips inside to unleash what I can already tell is going to be a beast, and pull his hot flesh out into my hand. With a groan and a wiggle, he helps me by shuffling the clothes down his legs. He’s so much bigger than I even anticipated. So thick that I can’t wrap my hand all the way around it. I run my tongue all the way up the back side and listen to his intake of breath as I pull him into my mouth, moving up and down, slowly increasing the suction as we go. His hips thrust upward as he fights to hold on to his control. His fingers sift into my hair and grip it as he loses another thread of control. Damn, this is h
ot. I work hard to get certain reactions from him. Feeling his cock grow thicker and harder, knowing he’s close, turns me on probably as much as him. My hand lets go while my mouth continues to work and I run my fingernails up to his chest. Once I reach his nipples, I tweak them hard and that does it.
“I’m gonna come,” he warns me, but I don’t pause. I bob harder and faster. Finally, his fingers grip my hair and hold me in place as he powerfully thrusts into my mouth and releases his seed down my throat. When his muscles finally relax and he lets go of my hair, I clean him up with my mouth and sit back on my heels. That sleepy, satisfied look in his eyes is probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
As the pheromones start to subside and reality sets in, I can feel my embarrassment grow. I just shared something so intimate with a guy I barely know. This is so unlike me and so unsafe. I’m supposed to be a good example of smart and safe choices, and here I am with a man the size of a mountain, who could easily subdue me, in a compromising position. What if he lost control? I would be shit out of luck.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he says gently as he reaches down and pulls me up, and does a half roll to share the couch with me. “I can tell by the look on your face, something is bothering you. After what we just shared, I’m thinking I didn’t do my job right if you aren’t a relaxed ball of putty with a dreamy look on your face. What’s going through that beautiful mind?” His fingers run soothingly along my hairline and down my jaw as he waits for my answer.
“I realized that I just did what I tell all of my self-defense students not to do.”
“You teach self-defense?”
“Not since I’ve been back. I was the main instructor in Colorado Springs, but I haven’t started it here yet.”
“You’re safe with me. I would never do anything you didn’t say yes to, or in your case, yes, yes, yes,” he teases before he kisses me softly. “I’m serious though. I wouldn’t do anything to compromise your safety. In fact, I figured I was going home with nothing more than a good night kiss. If you hadn’t asked, I wouldn’t be here. If you ever feel like I’m pushing something you don’t want, please say no. I stop without question when I hear it.”
