I didn't miss them when they inevitably decided that dating a detective was more work than it was worth. Working fourteen- and sixteen-hour days and being on call is a killer on your social life. I didn't care when I enjoyed the job more than the women.
Miranda is different. I knew it the minute I saw her grumbling about her shoes and eyeing White Lightning like the bull was liable to stampede across the bar and bite her. She's equal parts innocence and seduction…a combination I find sexy as hell.
"Glitter? Are you sure that's a good idea, Lily?" Miranda says, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. That explains the teeth marks. "What if he gets mad about it?" Her prominent brows crinkle and then she giggles, the sweet sound hitting me right in the stomach. Her entire face lights up when she laughs. "You're taking the blame then. I'll be right up."
I clear my throat when she drops her desk phone into the cradle.
She jumps, her gaze flying to mine.
As soon as she realizes it's me standing in her doorway, her eyes go comically wide, her mouth popping open. For a split second, happiness crosses her face, lighting her up again. And then her expression falls. A momentary flicker of sadness sweeps through her chocolate eyes before she schools her expression into a polite mask that has me grinding my molars.
"Jason?" She presses her hand to her heart like I startled her. "W-what are you doing here?"
"I work here, Minnie," I growl, taking a step into her office.
Panic sweeps through her gaze, drawing me up short. Fear trickles through those chocolate eyes, dissipating quickly, but not before I notice it. An odd sensation tears through my abdomen, my organs grinding together at the sight of her fear. I fight back the urge to bellow like a wounded animal, shove my hands into my pockets, and lock my legs in place to keep myself from dragging her into my arms to protect her from whatever she's afraid of.
The thought that it might be me is the only thing that keeps me in place.
We stare at each other for a protracted moment, not speaking.
Is it my imagination, or is she staring at me like she's greedy for the sight of me too? Her gaze roves all over me, lingering on my lips and then my chest before dropping to my cock. Her face flushes, her thighs cinching together. She wants me, that much is clear.
Not that she left me much doubt when she came all over me last night after riding White Lightning with my dick nestled between her tight little butt cheeks. Whatever made her run, it wasn't a lack of interest.
"You lied to me."
The pink stain on her cheeks deepens. Guilt parades across her face.
"I didn't feel well," she mumbles.
Last night, I believed her when she lied. I don't today. She's not good at it. I was too caught up in her to recognize the signs last night, but I see them plain as day now. When she lies, her eyes flit away from mine and her bottom lip tics down on the left side.
I take another step into her office.
She scrambles back a step.
"Stop moving away from me," I growl, that same odd sensation from earlier ripping through my stomach again. I don't like it when she moves away from me. Makes me want to destroy shit with my bare hands.
"Then stay where you are," she says.
"You think I'm going to hurt you?"
"No. I think you're going to kiss me."
She's not wrong.
"You can't kiss me."
She's definitely wrong about that. I can and will kiss her as often as humanly possible for the next eighty years. And not just her lips either. I'm going to have my mouth on every inch of that gorgeous body as often as I can. I wasn't lying last night when I told her I want to feast on her.
"Your hard little nipples are sayin' something else, pretty baby."
She crosses her arms over her chest like she intends to hide them from me.
"Why'd you run off last night, Minnie?"
"I didn't feel well," she says again.
"Liar."
Her jaw firms, stubborn intractability lighting her eyes. "I'm not a liar."
"No, you're not," I agree. "So tell me why you're tryin' so hard to convince me otherwise."
She opens her mouth and then snaps it closed, staring at me. Finally, she huffs. "I turned twenty-one yesterday."
"Wish I'd have known that last night," I admit, not liking that I didn't get to wish her a happy birthday or spoil her a little bit when she was with me. "You never said anything."
"I know. You remember what you said when I asked why you were there?"
I think back, trying to remember. She asked why I was at the bar and I was pissed because I wanted to take her home with me and couldn't. I said….
"You said your boss sent you to babysit some spoiled little rich girl and her friends," she says, her voice soft. "I'm the spoiled little rich girl you were talking about, Jason."
Shit.
"Minnie…Miranda, that's not–"
"It's okay," she interrupts, giving me a smile that makes my heart ache. It's full of disappointment. "You don't have to apologize or make excuses or whatever. I get it. It's nothing I haven't heard before. I wanted you to see me differently, so I lied. Had I known that you work here, I wouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have done it regardless of my reasons. So you don't owe me any explanations, okay? We rode a bull together and that was it."
That most definitely was not fucking it. But I don't say that because I see in her eyes that I've lost her. She looked at me with trust last night. Even after I said what I did, she trusted me to keep her safe on that bull. Trusted me to guide her through her orgasm and keep everyone from seeing the pleasure wracking her little body. She doesn't trust me now.
And that is not fucking okay with me.
I want her trust back. I want her smiles and playfulness back.
I stalk around the side of her desk, not stopping even when she backs up against the wall, swallowing hard. I swoop down on her like a cat stalking a mouse, cornering her so she can't get away from me. It's a dick move, but I don't care. I need to touch her again, need to see if her lips are as soft as I imagine they are. I'm going to lose my mind if I don't.
She tips her head back, looking up at me through wide, dilated eyes. She isn't afraid of me though. She was afraid to tell me the truth. But she isn't afraid of me. The pulse in her throat flutters like the wings of a bird. She lifts her arms, draping them over my shoulders like she can't help herself.
"I don't care how much money you have," I say, my voice lethally soft. "Don't give a fuck if you're royalty or if you come from nothin', sweet Miranda. I was pissed because I wanted to take you home with me and didn't think I could since I was on the clock. That's why I said what I said."
"It doesn't matter," she mumbles, her voice shaking. Her body shakes too. I can feel it trembling against mine every time she breathes.
"It does matter," I correct, bracing my arm on the wall above her head and using the other to tip her face up toward mine. Hurt lingers in her gaze, working like a wrecking ball on my insides. Fuck. I never should have said that shit last night. "I hurt you."
"You didn't."