Gabe: And I was a perfect gentleman those nights. For the record, I never once thought of you naked until that eggnog party when you were in college, and you officially became the sexiest person I’d ever seen in my life.
Ellie: Wow. I’m flattered.
Gabe: It’s the truth.
Ellie: For the record, you gave me my first orgasm when I was fifteen.
Gabe: WHAT???
Ellie: I had a crazy crush on you when I was a teenager.
Gabe: Whoa.
Ellie: Does that freak you out?
Gabe: Should it?
Ellie: I hope not. I truly hope not.
Gabe: Then it doesn’t freak me out. Because you’re all woman now, and I’m with the woman. Not the girl.
Ellie: *Breathes again* I was worried my teenage fantasies would scare you.
Gabe: We all have fantasies, sweetheart. It’s what, when, and with whom we explore them that matters.
Ellie: I’m enjoying our explorations. I have fantasies about other scenarios. Student and teacher, strangers at a bar, you name it.
Gabe: Both sound fun, especially strangers at a bar. I’d say something like Is this seat taken?
Ellie: I’d say now it is. Bet we’d be great strangers. Then we’d get a cup of coffee in the morning, and I’d feel like we had a delicious secret.
Gabe: When I take you out in public, I get a thrill that I’m the only one who knows your private side.
Ellie: Me too.
Gabe: Can’t wait to explore more tonight, my sweet, dirty girl.
Ellie: I’ll be on my best behavior when I see you later.
Gabe: I won’t.
17
YOU HAVE THE RIGHT
Gabe
Hands curled tightly around the wheel of my Tesla, I wait on the side of the road, on alert.
The faint glow from a streetlamp in the distance lights the curvy stretch of Mulholland Drive up here in the hills.
I have to tamp down this buzz of anticipation. Need to stay in the moment. Can’t let the thrill of the fantasy get the better of me before she even arrives.
I check my phone. Her Google Map alert says she’s almost here.
The second I hear the soft purr of an electric convertible winding around the bend, I start the engine.
It is on.
A few seconds later, she flies past me.
I jerk my car onto the road, gun the gas, and flash my headlights. Bright and fast in her rearview mirror.
She pulls into a turnout a hundred or so feet away.
I pull in behind her and cut the engine. My pulse is already spiking. I’ve wanted this for so damn long.
I’ve played in the goddamn Super Bowl, yet I’m somehow even more excited for this fantasy. I don’t even know why. I just want this. So damn much.
I cut the engine and stride over to her, taking my sweet-ass time like a cop would do even though I want to touch her so damn badly.
When I reach the driver’s side window, I tap on it.
She rolls it down, flashing an innocent but curious grin. “Was I speeding, officer?”
“You know you were,” I tell her. “You got someplace to be?”
Her pretty pink lips form a taunting O. “I have to get to this hot guy’s house. You understand, right?”
I grunt, then shake my head. “No,” I say sternly. “You better not be speeding to get to some other man.” I bend to lean on the window.
“But officer, he makes me sooo wet,” she says, then subtly, ever so subtly, spreads her thighs.
A wild rumble fills my chest. She’s going to test all my control.
“Get out,” I command.
She bats her lashes. “But don’t you want to see my license and registration? Or are you forgetting how to do your job?”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job. For that, you need to spread your legs,” I order.
“Ooh, you’re a bad cop,” she says, nibbling on the corner of her lips.
“And you’re a bratty girl,” I say, then grab the handle and yank open the door. “Out. Now.”
With a defiant stare, she rises, stands in front of me, and crosses her arms, pushing up those glorious tits.
Dear god.
She’s wearing the world’s shortest skirt, along with the universe’s sexiest heels.
“My guy won’t like that you called me bratty,” she taunts.
“You broke the speed limit, miss.” I step closer, drag my nose along her neck, inhaling her cherry blossom scent. It drives me wild. “Go around to the other side of the vehicle,” I tell her.
“What if I don’t want to? Will you put these on me?” She darts out with nimble fingers and grabs a pair of cuffs from my back pocket.
New ones. I bought them today. For her. And I fucking tremble as I picture putting them on her and then torturing her deliciously with my hands.
She dangles the cuffs in front of me, the temptress.
I snatch them from her. “Move. Now.”
“If you say so,” she says, then struts around the back of the car, shaking that perfect ass.
Desire claws at me. But we’re not even close to ending the scene yet. I fight off the cloud of lust, stalk around the back of the car, and come right up to her, my chest against hers, all of Los Angeles below us, the city lights twinkling in the distance.
But here on the side of the road, it’s quiet enough. Even though anyone could come by. What a rush. “Turn around, miss. Spread your legs.”
She whirls, reaches for the hem of her skirt, lifts it.
My skin sizzles. She’s wearing white lace panties that barely cover her luscious cheeks.
I want to bite that sweet ass.
But she’s so damn defiant. “I said…spread them,” I grit out.
She flashes her vixen gaze my way. “Make me, officer.”
Need swamps me. I step closer, between her legs, then kick her right foot. Then her left.
She gasps but doesn’t stumble as she widens her stance. My chest heaves with want. And my mind floods with understanding. I know why I want this fantasy.
I crave trust. Always have. It’s not only the foundation of my job—it’s the cornerstone of any relationship. That’s what I’ve seen from the people around me. The way they trust and depend on each other.
But now, I’m seeing trust in another light. A smoky, sexy light.
An after-dark one, with a woman who trusts me to test her, to push her, to take care of her.
Ellie trusts me so beautifully, which turns me on more than her beautiful body. Her trust in me thrills me to my bones.
And I intend to treat it like the gift it is. “You’re under arrest,” I command.