Page 28 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
Side by side with their arms pinned behind their back like shameful purveyors of lewd acts, the cops grabbed Libby’s bag, marched them to the squad car, then helped them inside. George and Joey, their arresting officers for the evening, slid into the front seat. And just like that, they were off.
“How will I balance my chi after something like this?” she lamented, glaring up at him.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “How about chucking nipple clamps at random people on the street or spice it up with a cock ring. So many random options to consider when balancing chi.”
Was he losing it, too? He didn’t know a damn thing about balancing chi other than, when attempting to do it with sex toys, one could find themselves in handcuffs.
She stared into his eyes, her gaze softening. “This wasn’t random,” she said, the anger draining from her voice. “This was supposed to set everything right. The rage yoga should have dispelled the energy. I thought that’s what Ida wanted me to do.”
He couldn’t look away. In the back of the squad car headed to the clink, he couldn’t ignore her pain and frustration. Sure, she was bonkers, and who the hell was Ida? He sure didn’t know. Ida could have been what she named her vibrators, or it could have been the name of the bird that shat on her shoulder. Nonetheless, her words tore into him. She was hurting, and more than that, she believed he was the cause of the pain. He needed to sort through her mystical gobbledygook and figure out what was going on.
“Why the vibrators, plum? Were those part of the dispelling plan?” he pressed, leaning in. He could feel her warm breath and sensed her frenzied energy mingling with his. Then everything shifted, and the off-kilter vibe between them evened out like the sea calming after a storm. He’d never experienced peacefulness like this. Serenity thrummed through his body in gentle beats like pearls of rain.
“The vibrator thing happened in the heat of the moment,” she answered, her voice barely a whisper.
The air transformed between them. As if he’d been entranced, he would have sworn that he could see the energy—a vibrant blue-violet hue engulfing them, cocooning them in their own private world. He focused on her face. She was doing it again, looking at him as if she saw every broken part. Like she could see what was beneath his cocky veneer. And those ripe lips of hers taunted him, called to him. Christ, the drive to kiss the bloody chi right out of her was impossible to ignore.
“Do you go everywhere with sixteen vibrators?” he asked, lowering his voice as he fell under her spell.
“Not usually,” she replied, her eyelids fluttering closed.
The light came and went, illuminating her face, then casting her in darkness as the squad car wove its way through the city streets. One second, he could only make out the curve of her neck and the apples of her cheeks. The next, he saw everything. The brush of dark hair across her forehead, the plump set of her lips, the slight upturn on her button nose. She was a bloody stunner, even if she was the craziest woman he’d ever met. “Libby Lamb,” he whispered, not knowing why, at that very instant, he wanted, no, needed to speak her name.
And then he got his answer.
The beginning of a smile tipped the edges of her lips, and bloody hell, watching her reaction to him simply saying her name sent the same jolt of victory through his veins as flattening an opponent in the ring. The ghost of a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth as his lips dusted hers—touching but not quite meeting. It had been ages since he’d savored the seconds before he kissed someone. But he could live here, in this blue violet-hued sacred space, anticipation tingling from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes.
Libby inhaled a slow, steady breath, melting into the moment with him. Could an almost-kiss border on erotic? The thought barely had a chance to bloom when one of the police officers cleared his throat—loudly. In the blink of an eye, the calming glow that had engulfed them evaporated as they pulled apart, their legs squeaking as they slid across the slick faux-leather seat—each to their own side.
“How about you cool it down and refrain from engaging in another lewd act in the back of a squad car,” the tall cop barked over his shoulder.
Good bloody advice. What the hell did he think he was doing?
They rode the rest of the way in silence. He stared ahead, and reality set in. How many cameras had caught their vibrator-laden brawl? Twenty, thirty, forty? It could be streaming to a billion mobiles at this very moment. He could see the headlines.
British Beast Enjoys American Kink.
The Lion Wanted Victory, Got Vibrators.
The police station came into view. In one of the cones of light cast by the lampposts illuminating the front walk, he would have sworn he saw a flash of red entering the precinct. He shook his head. Red, blue, violet. What was next? Would a conga line of dancing rainbow vibrators shimmy across the street?
Get your head on straight, man.
The officers exited the car when another cop walked up to them. The three men chatted, glancing back at them, still safely restrained in the police cruiser.
“What do you think happens next?” Libby asked with a shake to her voice.
He sighed and stared at the roof of the car. “I don’t know, plum. We wait.”
“I messaged my friends,” she offered.
“Penny, Charlotte, and Harper, right?”
She nodded. “Hopefully, they’ll know what to do.”
“What about your parents, plum? Will this throw them for a loop? Their perfect little yoga daughter getting pinched?”
She looked away, then swallowed hard. “I don’t—” she began when the back doors of the vehicle swung open.
