Page 13 of Taming Her

“I can and I am.”

“What? You’re arresting me?”

“Yes.”

“What the fuck for?”

“Drunk and disorderly. You’re a hazard to yourself and others in this state.”

“How dare you. I am not drunk. I’ve only had a couple all evening.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really, I wasn’t in the mood.”

Her hair brushed his chin as she upped her writhing. He caught a whiff of her shampoo, or was it hairspray? “Chill out, Ava, or I’ll cuff you.”

“Cuff me. Bloody hell, you think you’re so fucking great now, don’t you, Griff.”

Annoyance, red and hot, swirled in his veins. Ava was the one who thought she was the bees-bloody-knees. And it was also obvious she had absolutely no one to keep her in check.

What she needed was some cold, hard discipline. A reminder that she had a duty to herself, and others, to behave in an appropriate and adult manner. This un-ladylike, teenage, self-destructive behavior had to end.

And itwouldend.

Now.

* * *

Ava battled against the wall of muscle carting her along the street in the middle of the night.

Griff, oh yeah, she remembered him alright. Even reeling from her father’s latest rejection, the memories of Griff were coming back thick and fast.

Kind and sweet yet also with a backbone and one hell of a hot body. She’d fallen for him and enjoyed his attentions in and out of the bedroom. But then an apartment had come up in Bath and the chance to indulge in a spa week with a mate, and then a festival—the romance had ended. It had needed to, for her sanity and the safety of her heart… He’d become too important to her.

“Get the hell off me, you dickhead.”

He ignored her. Fuck. He was ignoring her wriggling and writhing too. She whacked him on the top of his arm with her purse.

“I’m warning you,” he said, his tone dark and gravelly. “Behave.”

“No, you behave, you can’t just grab me like this. I know my rights.”

“When you nearly died twice on the road you gave up your rights.”

It was as if she were no more than an annoying gnat bothering him as he practically carried her along the deserted street.

She was indignant more than anything else. Not scared. He was a cop, for goodness’ sake. His intentions had to be semi-wholesome.

A patrol car beeped to life and he released her waist to open a back passenger door.

She pitched forward on her heels, intent on making a run for it.

But she didn’t stand a chance. He set his big hand on her head and forced her to sit in the rear of the car.

“Get off. Get off. Let me out.” The thought of being taken to the police station sent a shiver up her spine and a wave of nausea through her guts. Her father was tolerant of most things as long as she didn’t draw attention with authorities. Getting a phone call to bail her out of a Bristol cell when he was sunning himself in the Maldives and looking forward to his weekend in Dubai wouldn’t go down well.

She gripped the doorframe, planning on clambering out. If she could just get into one of the alleys she’d outrun him.

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