Crown and Anchor Series: Book 1-4

by Kerri Ann

  China still hasn’t moved away from me, and with her face still within an inch of mine, I’m held captive. I could kiss her. I could wish to do so much more, but not while she’s drunk and utterly pissed. This magnetic pull is no different than any of the other times we’ve been thrust together, but it’s wrong when she’s off-kilter to take advantage of her.

  “Well, someone better answer me,” Harlow huffs.

  Doll snaps out of the trance her flooded mind has created. “Officer Mason, I expect you and your friend here haven’t taken anything of value, or I might have to turn the tables about pending charges.” Blinking away the tears, looking past me to her friends waiting in the doorway, that hardened, bitch is back mask is firmly in place. Sidestepping me to get to her entourage, China stumbles. Falling to the floor in a heap, she’s helpless again.

  There’s no shaking it. It’s a driving need to help her. Rushing to her side, scooping my hands under her arms to raise her up, she softens against my touch. This is becoming fucking difficult to keep track of. First she rails at me, then becomes putty in my hands. The hardened mask of hatred reappears as if I’m a hired hitman, before she becomes gentle all over again.

  Folding into my arms, I smile. “I’m going to need a playbook, China.”

  “You don’t need a playbook.” It’s said sweetly. I’m getting whiplash from the change in attitude.

  “Okay, but I might just need a signal system or Morse code.” I try to smile back, but I’m slightly confused about it all. I’ve never dealt with someone who can mood swing on command.

  “Jeez, you two are fucking possessed. Pick a mood. Or just get together and get on with it,” The Amazonian states, shaking her head. Hallette steps up to Trevor, tapping him on the shoulder before walking off.

  “Come on, Officer. I’m sure we can find you an apology, and a few good laughs elsewhere.”

  “You lead, I’ll follow.” Is all I hear as they start off, leaving China and I alone.

  CHINA

  I should apologize. I should say sorry. I should do so many things, but I can’t find it in me. What I do find, though, is something I find every time I’m near him, or if I’m thinking about him. Or even wanting to remember what happened each time we were pushed into extreme circumstances. I remember the sound of his voice, the feel of his touch, and the way he electrifies me in a way I’ve never known.

  Still curled into the comfort of his arms after my newest embarrassment, I’m trying to gain my composure. It’s kind of useless.

  I move to stand. “You can let me go now,” I say, hoping it comes off nicely, as that was what I was going for.

  He pulls me back into his chest. “What if I don’t want to, Doll?” His voice is laced with dark and sultry innuendos, and nothing less than a hint of sexual promise.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. Risen pulls back, taking his warmth and attention with him. I rush to finish my thought. “I’m sorry I’ve been awful to you. I’m sorry I’ve ignored you. I’m sorry I haven’t thanked you properly. I’m sorry I’ve been a mess every time you’ve seen me. But most of all, I’m sorry I haven’t said it, Risen.” Spewing it like verbal diarrhea, I kiss him lightly on the cheek.

  Fuck, he has to have whiplash from my on / off moments.

  “I accept your apology, and I have something to say too.” Gripping me by the shoulders, gently, but firmly, he pulls me further into his embrace. Swearing I can hear my own heartbeat jumping like a box of Mexican Jumping Beans over a fire, I wait for him to continue. “I’ve wanted to tell you this from the moment I met you. And in this state, I doubt you’ll remember it, but I have to say it. I didn’t know it was you. I figured it was a lifted ride. Then, when you pulled off your helmet, I almost swallowed my tongue. There was no way out of doing what I did. My job dictated it and I had to, but China, I hated the fuck out of it. There’s no way I’d trade this moment, or any of the other ones for a minute of patrol someplace else so that I wasn’t who arrested you.”

  I’m lost in his eyes as he stares me down. Steel cut, dark blue, rimmed with charcoal that wisps like smoke through them in dangerous waves. The pucker mark on his chin, and his tiny scar draws my attention. Inspecting him inch by inch, my mind catalogues it for later. I doubt I’ll have a chance to be this close again.

  Lifting his hand, he drags a finger down my jaw to my chin, across my bottom lip, and finishes by holding my face. I melt. Signature move or not, I’m falling for it.

  Fucking alcohol.

  Growling his frustration, he mutters, “Fucking shame you’re drunk. The things I’d do to you.”

  “I get the feeling I know what you’re thinking, Ri.” Pushing my body closer to his, I feel his painfully strained cock resting in his jeans, just out of reach.

  “God, I love hearing you say that.”

  “What?” I ask, slightly confused.

  “Ri,” his rough voice grinds out, dangerously entreating me to do it again and again. Feeling his chest rise and fall in quick breaths, it turns me to mush.

  Removing my hands and stepping back, Risen walks away from me. “There’s no way I’ll do anything you’ll regret. You’re drunk, Doll.” Just like everyone else, he’s leaving China alone when she’s most vulnerable.

  But that’s not what I want. Fuck that.

  “Ri, my soul is busted. I doubt there’s much you could do to destroy it further.” Pulling his T-shirt, gripping the caged beast by the horns, I’m making him take the next step.

  Gauging his thoughts as he processes them, Risen thinks through the pros and cons of us doing something about this sexual tension. Drunk brain or not, I squeeze my hand in between our bodies, gripping the button on his jeans. Pulling him any closer, I’ll be wearing him. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than this. Looking up, I see he’s battling his will to be gentlemanly.

  I might have pushed him too far lately, and this latest drama could tip the proverbial scales on the mental shell. Watching him, taking in his mannerisms, his movements and his non-movements, I wonder how long until he shoves me away.

  He growls. I swear my panties will need to be wrung out. That sound is unlike anything I’ve heard before. “Fuck it,” he grumbles, before crashing his lips against mine.

  I’ve thought of this numerous times. It’s quickly becoming my new favorite need. It’s tantalizing, and with this alcohol-infused brain, it feels scrumptious to every firing nerve that my body possesses. His lips are soft, and just as full as I imagined they’d feel. Unable to stop myself, I groan into his mouth. Risen takes it as an invitation to advance further, running his hands into my hair, tugging lightly so I have to tip my head back. Our tongues tangle, sending shooting electricity down my spine, straight to my core. I want more. No. I need to feel more. I need to feel everything he offers.

  He pulls back. “Stop thinking, Doll.” Pulling my body tighter to his, all I can think of is his cock against my stomach, his hard body pressed to mine, and his talented tongue as it dances for power.

  I know there’s a couch in here, and as I try to force Risen back toward it, his legs hit the back of it. This has been building for too damn long. Pushing against his chest, he doesn’t fall back. He doesn’t budge. “No.”

  “Yes,” I protest.

  This time, he picks me up by the waist and lifts me away from him by a step. “No, not happening, Doll. I’m not drunk, you are. I won’t do that.”

  I gotta say, I’m taken aback. I’m sure the hurt is televised across my features, but fuck it, I don’t care. Drunk or not, Risen turned me down and it sucks.

  “We’re not doing this now, Doll. After some coffee, some more fun with your friends, whom I’ve left Trevor with, we’ll restart. But I won’t do this with you drunk.” Bending down, Risen places a chaste kiss across my forehead then smiles. “We’re waiting until you’re sober.”

  He turned me down. I’m not sure if I’m proud he’s restraining himself while I’m thoroughly shitfaced, or disappointed. My shoulders slump. I squeeze my e
yes partially shut, trying my best I’m pissed at you look, but Ri just laughs me off.

  “Come on,” he says. “The Harlot probably has Trevor stripped bare in a game of poker. We should save him.” Stepping close, into my space, Risen dips, kisses my lips and groans before pushing past me toward the exit.

  Holding his hand out for me to take, he asks from the doorway, “Coming?”

  “Not yet, but it was close,” I mutter as I bypass my father’s things, taking Risen’s hand to exit.

  RISEN

  Yep. Cold fucking, ice-cold showers. That’s what’s in my future. Lots of them.

  Walking back in here a little over an hour ago, we were right to come back. Strip poker it was, and my daft friend was thoroughly screwed.

  “Go fish,” Harlow yells out happily.

  “It’s not go fish, you bubblehead. It’s poker. Now, are you in or out?” Hallette, the resident card shark, is mystified by her friend’s unwillingness to understand the game that we’re playing.

  Confusion runs across Harlow’s features as she counts her cards. Touching one by one, her bottom lip hangs low enough to just nick her chin. “But I thought I had to tell you I need more cards? Isn’t that what you say when you need them?”

  “Idiocy. I’m surrounded by untrained monkeys.”

  Sure, she’s missing her shirt, her capris, and sits comfortably in a blush bra and thin lace panties, but Hallette is playing her friends and Trevor like a pro. Tucking her cards tight to her body, she holds them lovingly. “Catty, it’s your turn. Call or raise.”

  Trevor is in his low-slung jeans, no shirt, but a grin wide enough to see all his molars. He may act the hillbilly, but I’ve played cards with the shyster. Prick has squeezed at least five hundred bucks off me this year alone. Right now, he’s squeezing these girls for their apparel and loving every second of it.

  “I raise you a shirt and one shot.” Beaming, Cathryne flicks her cards together, hides them against her body, then sucks back on her almost empty glass.

  “Fine, fine. I accept your raise. Call.” Flipping his cards over one at a time, Trevor reveals a full house, aces high. Hallette frowns, turns hers over and giggles loudly. Her hand is full of threes; four of them to be exact.

  Harlow, though, doesn’t look as pleased with her results. “This game sucks,” she huffs before rising to grab another glassful of brown liquid.

  “You have to show your cards, Har. Don’t skip out on me now,” Cathryne pleads.

  “Fine. Here’s mine.” Tossing them onto the table, she revels in the straight jack high, all spades.

  “How do you have such luck when you have no idea what you’re doing?”

  “There is no luck.”

  “Then you must be the smartest stupid person in poker.”

  No matter what, both Hallette and Trevor have lost, so each of them start to pour their shots and strip off another piece of clothing.

  “Where are your cards in this whole menagerie, Cathryne?”

  “I don’t think I did well.” Flipping them one by one, she reveals a royal flush.

  “Fuck me!” Trevor yells.

  “Okay,” Harlow chirps as she pulls off her sundress. Standing in a strapless purple bra, with nothing more than dental floss for underwear, she sits on the couch, crossing her legs as she awaits the show.

  “I’m surrounded by sharks.” Trevor licks the remaining moisture from his shot glass, then pulls the belt free of his jeans, sending them reeling to the floor in a puddle. “I don’t know how you’re doing it, but somehow, you three are cheating.”

  Laughing loudly, Harlow, Cathryne, and Hallette clink their glasses, sloshing the alcohol everywhere. Doll and I have been watching from the sidelines, as this dangerous game commenced.

  Sauntering over, I join in on the laughter and liquid. “Losing to ladies, are we, Trev?”

  “Fucking sharks. Every single one of these so-called ladies. I’m tellin’ ya. Next time, I’m hittin’ Vegas. They’re my ace in the hole.” He pats me on the shoulder and I do my best to avoid his nakedness. “How about you stop trying to lose so miserably and win remarkably. I don’t need to see your junk.”

  “Not the first time, anaconda.” Trevor pours a thick glass of whiskey, plunking in a few cubes before handing it over to me.

  “Who’s the anaconda and why?” Hallette chips in gleefully as a tiny burp escapes her mouth. Covering, she apologizes as the full attention of the room is now settled on me.

  “Yeah, why do I call you that, Risen? Mind if I explain.”

  Hell no. “I’d rather you not.”

  “Then play with us. Win your explanation, or lose it and a few pieces of clothing.”

  “I have no intention of playing. Someone has to be sober enough to help you all to bed.” Sipping the glass, savoring the sweet, yet crisp, cool bourbon, it rests on my tongue while I try to worm my way out of the game of poker.

  “Nice try. We have Cassidy and Ciccero for that job. You’re off duty, Officer. You need to play. I want another peek at that ink,” Harlow chirps, cocking her head sideways with an evil grin.

  “What ink?” China asks quizzically. I see I won’t get out of this game without at least winning a few hands, so I need to stay sober, and they need to be really drunk so I can escape unscathed.

  Smacking Trevor on the back of the head, his chest-deep guffaw tells me I just stepped into his trap. “Fine, asshole. I’ll play, but don’t think I’ll let you win.”

  “Risen, I won’t go lightly on you, so bring your A game.”

  This is going to suck. I have to win. I have to win.

  If I don’t, there’ll be a ton of explaining to China that I’d rather not get into yet.

  CHINA

  I need one more card. Just one measly card to win this hand. I’ve perfected my best ‘poker face’ that I can accomplish three sheets to the wind, and I know that my hand is good. Not spectacular yet, but good enough. One card will turn the tides, letting me take everyone.

  Risen and I were coerced into playing. He, because his friend is holding something over his head, and me, because I want to know what it is that’s had the girls gaga over his ink since seeing it in the courthouse. I’m intrigued, as he’s worn shirts the whole time he’s stayed here.

  “Cathryne, your turn. Draw?” Hallette is sitting in her grandmother’s pearls with a leather pillow from the couch covering her. She’s the only one out, so we put her in charge of the deal.

  With an imperceptible nod of her head, Catty tosses out three cards, and is handed three more from Hallette, who then fans them into her remaining two. Risen and Trevor don’t know Cat like I do. Looking them over one by one, there’s a faint adjustment in her eye that tells me she did all right.

  Hallee, who’s sitting beside Trevor, shoulder bumps him with a grin. He turns his cards her way after he discards two. “Well, color me purple and hand me a pig. The game is afoot, boys and girls.”

  “Harlot. How many you want?” Over the past hour, she’s sobered up. She folded three hands and stewed in the background as Trevor and Hallette cozied up. Naked, I might add. He’s been a lucky son of a bitch, holding his own. Still in underwear, he’s won the last few hands, which puts us at the current predicament of myself in only a black see-thru bra, a fire red thong, and my earrings. Jewelry was added in to up the ante on available clothing. Some of us had less to lose than others. Risen has ditched his socks, pants, and a ring, leaving him in the T-shirt I want off, and a pair of dark boxer shorts with fluorescent paisley flowers.

  Curling closer to Hallee, Trevor whispers something low. In true form, Hallee falls prey to his advances. She believes in romance, seduction, dreams and true love. Men, whom are a bit on the wilder side are great, but if they know the way to a woman’s clit through soft spoken dirty words, they fall into her category of delectable necessities. It seems that Trevor is fitting in swimmingly. She giggles low, murmurs something unintelligible toward him.

  Harlow tosses her cards down, ri
sing to leave. “’Night, ladies. I’m tired. I’ll be hangin’ in Casper’s room for the night. It’s quiet down there at least.”

  Looking down at my watch—that’s on the table because I already lost it—it’s almost three am. Fuck, time flies. “You sure, lover? I mean, it’s still early.”

  “I’m good. Night, nasty witch.” Leaning down, she kisses me on the cheek, and glares daggers at Hallee. I know that when Trevor came in, she kind of called dibs. With the turn of events, Harlow is being gracious, stepping away before jealousy hits her square in the chest.

  “’Night, Harlot.” I pull her close and whisper, “I love you.”

  Rising to her full height, leaving me half naked in this war, she calls back, “Love you,” before venturing over to Catty. Kissing her on the top of the head, spinning on her heels with her clothes gathered in her arms, she’s off.

  “’Night, Harlow,” Hallee calls out. Even though I know she did it half-heartedly because she’s more involved in Trevor and his wandering lips, she’ll feel bad in the morning when she realizes the mistake she’s made. We always promised boys, men, husbands, flings, and the likes would never come between us or our friendship. This right now just hurts her because of her own internal war. Harlow’s not mad at Hallee, Harlow is mad at Harlow. She’s upset she feels jealous.

  After she ventures up the stairs and out of view, everything settles back into the game at hand.

  “Ri, buddy, how many for you?”

  “Hey, I’m the dealer. That’s my question.” With a fake pouty face, Hallee mocks hurt.

  “I’ll let you have as many turns as you want. You just have to ask.”

  “Stay on task you two,” Cathryne scolds, showing her matronly stance. “Let’s say we make this the last game. I’m gettin’ wiped.”