Page 18 of Sheriff's Dirty Secret
Luke March was the first man in a long time who I’d want something more than a roll in the hay with. The things I could imagine with him terrified me. I’d lost myself the last time I’d let someone in.
“I promise you’re safe with me, Olive,” he said, almost like he could read my thoughts.
“Luke…” I started to say but shut my mouth.
It would have been so easy to agree, just to get what I wanted, but something stopped me. I wasn’t naïve or lying to myself so much to not realize there was something different when it came to the man who was sitting next to me.
“At least promise me you’re willing to take things day by day with me.” I had no idea how he knew I needed a compromise of some sort, but he did.
“I promise,” I agreed, probably way too easily. He leaned forward, his lips so close to mine, and my mouth tingled as his hand cupped the back of my head with a firm yet gentle touch.
“Good girl,” he praised and rested his forehead against mine. “Such a good girl for me.”
“Luke,” I mumbled, aching for more. His kiss. His touch. His lead.
“Wait here for me, understood?” I nodded, and before I could open my eyes, he was gone and the driver’s door of his truck slammed shut. I didn’t get to see him round the truck because he walked behind it. I felt like my entire body from head to foot was covered in goose bumps.
What am I doing?I wondered, ready to tell him I was about to change my mind when he opened the door. But when his eyes locked with mine, something inside of me started to wash over me. Something calm. Soothing. And when his hand took mine? My mind quieted completely.
And the moment we were in front of his door, I knew I was right where I was supposed to be.
We stepped inside, and the sound of him turning the lock on the front door almost felt like an echo around us. I braced, waiting for him to pounce on me, to push me against the wall and have me every which way he wanted, but he didn’t do that. He stood behind me as I tried to look around. My eyes might have caught the couple of paintings he’d hung, some what I assumed were family pictures that sat by the mantle.
But I couldn’t think.
My mind and body were both hyperaware of where he stood. Imagining that he was staring at me. More than likely taking in the sight of me inside of his home. But for some reason, I couldn’t turn around. With anyone else, in my past, I wouldn’t have thought twice about taking control and getting things moving.
With Luke, it was different.He is different.It was why it scared the hell out of me just as much as it excited me. Both my body and heart, hell, even my mind were at peace around him and more than ready to let him take control.
I heard the heavy footfalls of his shoes hitting the floor beneath us and felt his body heat radiate off my back. His nearness had my eyes fluttering shut when he wrapped his arm around my waist, carefully pulling me flush against him.
“Dance with me?” he rumbled into the shell of my ear, and I swear gooseflesh grew on top of my already existing goose bumps.
“Dance?” I repeated carefully. “But there’s no—“ I didn’t finish my sentence before the somewhat bare living room filled with a slow song that sounded vaguely familiar.
“That’s a cool trick,” I said as he started to sway side to side, and I let him lead. His deep chuckles tickled the shell of my ear as we danced slowly. His front pressed flush up against my back, his hand open-palmed on my stomach while the other one gently stroked my arm.
“I heard this song right after seeing you the first time. Immediately thought about having you here, in my place, dancing with me.”
“You’re a smooth talker, Sheriff.”
“I’m just being honest,” he drawled seductively. “This is one of many fantasies you’re making come true.”
I turned to face him, secretly loving the way both his arms wrapped around my waist as I toyed with the buttons of his shirt. I bit down on my bottom lip.
“How old are you?” I asked, and he smiled.
“How old do you think I am?” he responded, answering a question with a question.
“Older than me,” I sassed, but he didn’t seem offended.
“I think I have a pair of running shoes older than you,” he joked. “Come on, take a guess.” He winked, and I laughed.
“Thirty-five?”
“Close. Thirty-six. Is the age difference a problem for you?” His eyes observed me so closely I doubted he ever missed anything. He was probably great at his job.
“Well, according to you, if it was, I’m screwed since I crossed your threshold.” His hand went down from my waist to grip my ass.
