Playin’ Cop (Heroes of Henderson ~ Prequel) (10 page)

She eyed him suspiciously, taking a sip. “Is it so bad you have to ply me with fabulous wine? I know you’re not married,” she teased. But as their waiter approached, Duncan silently waved him off. That’s when her stomach sank. “Okay, now I’m getting worried.”

“I want to straighten out a misconception, before…before we…you know.”

“Have sex,” she supplied.

Duncan leveled her with that reprimanding stare. The one that let her know she was precariously close to crossing a line. His body became a fortress. One strong arm resting across the booth behind her, his broad shoulders hemming her in at the side, and his other arm tense on the table in front of her. He spoke in that quiet no-nonsense baritone that made her insides weep with longing and anticipation.

“Annabelle.” God, she loved how he said her name. “Every word I told you in your car New Year’s Eve was true. I wanted a second date. I wanted a chance at a relationship. I did not want a one-night stand.” His upper body angled closer, causing her heart to pound. His gaze drifted to her mouth for a moment, then back to her eyes. “But with you on my lap, I was perfectly willing to take advantage of the situation anyway.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “At one point, all I could think about was stripping you naked and,”––his gaze dropped briefly to her thighs––“sliding you down onto me.”

Her eyes went wide as every bit of pent-up desire slid south and turned hot and moist. Her breath caught in her chest, her heart pounding enough to make her pulse points throb. She licked her lips and Duncan leaned closer.

“The truth is, the only thing that stopped me was that I couldn’t find the zipper on your gown. It was much later that night when I realized the damn thing zipped up the side.”

The sexual tension was too taut for her to laugh. The only thing she could think to say was, “Oh?”

Duncan eyed her mouth again before leaning back. “I got frustrated when I couldn’t find the zipper,” he said, moving his hand off the table and on to her thigh, “and that made me stop and realize where we were heading. I didn’t want to give you the impression that sex was all I wanted. I didn’t want to do anything to embarrass you or make you want to avoid me the next morning. But the point is,” he said eyeing her heavily, “had the zipper been in the back where it normally is, I wouldn’t have stopped. And this whole five date rule? Complete bullshit.”

Annabelle felt her head nodding but her mind had shut down after the words “sliding you down onto me.” With her body vibrating so intensely, the only thing she could think about was how she had to tell him the truth about how they met. Her heart squeezed at the thought of his rejection. God, she didn’t want to ruin this.
 

Finding no way to avoid the inevitable, she finally pointed to his glass of wine. “Drink up,” she insisted.

Duncan looked a little stunned. A little confused.

“Drink up,” she repeated, motioning him toward the wine with her hand. “Because if that’s the extent of your confession, I assure you it’s a sonnet compared to what I have to tell you.”

“Tell me?” he questioned, releasing her thigh and reaching for his glass. “Wait! Before you say anything. Are we good? I mean, are you okay with what I just said?”

She licked her lips and leaned in to kiss him, whispering, “I’m
very
okay with
everything
you just said.”

His relief turned into a big, sultry grin. “Okay then.” He took up his wine and downed what was left like it was cheap beer at a keg party, then all but smacked his glass on the table. “Your turn.”

Tears threatened as Annabelle described how her father had overheard Brooks bet Duncan he couldn’t give her a speeding ticket. How he’d come home that night and told her all about it. And then how he’d recommended she play along so she could meet Duncan and see if he was the kind of guy she’d be interested in.

 
While Annabelle talked, she saw Duncan’s expression shift the moment he figured out where her story was heading. He sat there in silence through its entirety, staring at her. When he started to drum his fingers on the table, she wrapped it up, figuring no amount of talking was going to put the cat back in the bag.

“Are you done?” he said, his eyebrows lifting. Annabelle nodded a weak little nod, terrified of his next words.

Duncan turned to the waiter hovering in the distance. “Check, please.”

“Oh my God. Duncan, no!” Annabelle pleaded, throwing her hands up to his shoulders trying to turn him around to look at her. “Please, don’t be mad….” she went on, becoming aware of a suspicious shaking under her hands as he turned around. Laughing.

She threw him her very best pout, but he said, “You deserved that. You and your father. I cannot believe I was set up.”

“Believe it,” she groaned. “And it was brilliant…all except for the part where I started to fall for you. Then it became weird and twisted and this big fat lie that I had to live with—”

She saw the poor waiter scurry off again as Duncan pulled her close and shut her up with one long, hard kiss. Her toes literally curled. “You started to fall for me?” he asked against her lips, sounding very pleased.
 

Annabelle simply nodded against him.

“Okay, then. How ’bout that steak?”

Chapter Ten

“Nervous?”

Annabelle responded with a quick smile as Duncan unlocked the door. Yeah, she was nervous. The two of them were never at a loss for words, but the drive home had been noticeably quiet. Just like their walk from the car to Duncan’s townhouse.

And now, she thought, now they were literally standing on a threshold.

“Come here,” he said, reaching out, taking one of her hands and slowly moving it up to his shoulder. He stepped in like he was pulling her close for a slow dance when her feet came out from under her and, like Scarlett O’Hara, she found herself airborne and being carried off in the arms of her own Rhett Butler.

“Duncan James,” she said, “you've been sweeping me off my feet all week.”

Once inside, he backed up against the door, closing it with his backside, and asked her to lock it by throwing the deadbolt. Then he said, “How ’bout I give you a tour in the morning?” She simply nodded as that delicious nervous angst bloomed inside her chest.

He walked to the stairs and set her feet down on the first step so they stood more or less eye to eye. His hands moved into her hair on either side of her face. “I’m crazy about you, Annabelle Devine.” With exquisite concentration, he took his time kissing her lower lip, lightly running his tongue across the upper one. “I want you in my bed something awful,” he drawled, his Southern accent growing heavy, his voice going sleepy. He trailed his lips across her jaw line. “I’m completely healthy,” he assured her, moving down her neck toward that one little spot she was growing so fond of. “I’m prepared. I’ll protect you,” he promised, his mouth settling on top of her shoulder then trailing a path to the sensitive place where he nipped at her flesh.

Moving a hand to the banister and another to her hip, Duncan nudged her backward up the next step while his mouth played again with hers. “There’s no zipper on this dress,” he said between kisses, moving them further up the steps. The pressure of his hand on her hip was tantalizing. “So I’m gonna watch you take it off,” he said pulling her firmly against him halfway up the stairs.

His tongue slid into her mouth and plundered. Annabelle moaned against him as the wave of passion tossed her under its magnificent surge. Gone again was conscious thought. Her mind drifted to another dimension while her body remained anchored by the onslaught of chemical combustion. Her breasts felt engorged and begged to be touched. Her thighs quivered with need. Her tiny lace thong grew damp from arousal. And just as it had been on New Year’s Eve, she longed to feel the firm, steely heat of him rubbing against the soft throbbing ache of her.

“Annabelle…baby,” Duncan whispered in her ear. “Take your dress off for me, please. Right here. Right now.” He held her by her shoulders until she was steady. Her dress, created by rings of fabric, needed to be pulled over her head. So she licked her lips and watched his expression through lowered lashes as she slowly drew the gardenia from her hair and let it drop to her feet. She noticed his jaw tighten as she deliberately removed the tiny hairpins one by one, making a great show of letting them fall from her fingertips. She watched him swallow when the tight white fabric started to inch up her thighs, saw that his eyes were trained on the apex of her legs. She hesitated on the brink of exposing her pink lace lingerie, causing Duncan’s eyes to flick from the tops of her bare thighs to her face and back again.

When she continued to stall, he closed his eyes and licked his lips. “Sweet Jesus, Annabelle. I swear to God, one slice down the middle is all it will take.” He started reaching for his back pocket but froze to watch Annabelle pull the dress up and over the moist heat hidden behind her pink lace thong…then fully expose her hour glass figure and lacy push-up bra. She drew the dress over her head, then shook out her red curls and combed her fingers through her hair before tossing the ball of fabric to land behind him on the foyer floor.

Duncan growled as his jacket hit the floor. And, as he loosened his tie, he backed her up the next two steps while pulling his shirttail from his pants and unbuttoning the cuffs. “Still wanna see me with my shirt off?” he asked, stalking her.

Annabelle could only nod, reaching out to steady herself with the banister. Her red heels started to slip, so she took one off and then the other as he backed her up the steps. When she looked up again, Duncan’s chest was exposed. And boy, oh boy was it
magnificent
. She stifled most of a squeak as her eyes feasted on his tanned and muscled torso with its sexy smattering of curly dark hair which dipped and narrowed, disappearing beyond the waistband of his slacks. Her eyes drifted there just in time to watch Duncan loosen the buckle and pull his belt out of its loops with menacing slowness. He held it over the banister and let it drop to the floor below.

Annabelle came to a dead stop short of the top of the stairs. Her eyes took in the length and breadth of the ill-concealed hard-on behind Duncan’s pants. She glanced up only when she heard him say, “You are welcome to lick your lips all you’d like.”

She felt her face flush and was at a loss for a pithy comeback, suddenly realizing she was in way over her head. Duncan. Older and obviously more experienced. She. Four years his junior and far, far less experienced, she was sure. And this––her heart caught in her chest––this meant so much. This…being with him, meant…everything.

Frantic, she turned to run from the realization. Run from the emotion boiling up inside her. Run from the fact that she was in love with Duncan James and couldn’t bear to make one false move and jeopardize it all. She sprinted up the rest of the steps and ran down the hall, but Duncan grabbed her up by the waist and hauled her in the opposite direction saying, “The bedroom is this way.”

Short of kicking and screaming, she flailed enough so that he put her down as soon as he managed to get her through the door. Then he shut them inside, turned his back to the door and folded his arms across his chest. Annabelle’s breathing was heavy and labored and it cost her every ounce of courage she had to meet Duncan’s eyes.

“You freaking out?”
 

“Little bit.”

He nodded. Then looked down at the floor. Realizing he still had his shoes on, he toed them off. “Okay,” he said through a thick release of breath, running a hand through his hair before looking back up at Annabelle. He spread his arms in quandary. “Well…you look beautiful,” he said, indicating her partially naked state with a quick gesture before reaching up and rubbing his jaw.

“It’s just….” Annabelle started. “It’s just that….” But the swell of emotion grew so intense that the only place she could imagine finding solace was in Duncan’s arms. So she moved to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest. His strong arms engulfed her upper body and held her tight. “It’s just that it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt,” she whimpered.

Duncan rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head. “No one is going to get hurt.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes,” he said, lifting her chin so he could see her eyes, “I do.”

She believed him. She trusted he believed what he was saying and that was all she could ask. She reached up and placed a hand at the back of his neck, coaxing his lips to hers. Tentatively she pressed her tongue between his lips to meld with his own and offered up not only a sweet kiss, but her trust and belief as well. Both arms came up to circle his neck and she stood on tiptoe as he pressed her pelvis to his, letting their heat meld there as well.