Page 18 of Just This Once

Apparently Whip King is an asshole.

A well-built, pierced dick, get-on-my-knees-and-beg-for-another-taste grade-A asshole.

But goddamn did he look good in his dress uniform.

When I caught sight of him across the banquet hall, I sucked in a sharp inhale at the way my core clenched, instinctively missing the absence of being stretched around him as he gripped my throat and pounded into me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose.My one night of rebellion and I fucked a walking red flag.

I tamped down the irritation at my body’s instinctual response. The logical part of my brain knew he would be at the annual awards banquet, but despite me feigning a headache and attempting to make other plans, my mother insisted that this was important for my father, and I was guilted into going. When our eyes locked across the room and recognition—in addition to shock—flooded his features, I couldn’t stop myself from walking over to him at the bar and seeing if he really did remember me after all.

I should have let it go. A smarter me would have let him win that round. He was crass and a jerk. He walked away, and thatcould have been the end of it. Clearly the cut lines of his body and his filthy mouth had made me stupid.

I set my wineglass down on the bar top with a snap and marched across the dance floor, politely smiling and sidestepping a group of firefighters doing the Macarena. Whip and another firefighter were laughing and commiserating with two women I hadn’t met yet. The blonde tilted her head at me when I approached, while the brunette continued laughing at something the men were saying.

Lacking all decorum, I pasted on a bright smile. “Hi,” I interrupted. “Sosorry. Can I just have a minute with Whip?” I placed my fingertips on the inside of his elbow, and he stiffened.

The women looked on in confusion as Connor’s eyes bounced between Whip and me.

Whip tried to shrug me off. “We’re kind of in the middle of something.”

The fuck you are . . .

I tightened my grip on the inside of his arm and breathed through a smile. “Chief Martin was hoping for a word.” I pulled his arm closer to me. “Back in a jiff!”

With a grunt that should not have sent tingles racing down my spine, Whip followed me. As soon as we were walking in the opposite direction I dropped my hand from his arm.

“What do you want, Prim?” he asked flatly.

“Stop calling me that.”

A lighthearted chuckle spilled from him.He’s enjoying this.“Fine,Miss Martin, what can I do for you?”

“Shut up and get over here.” I found the darkest corner of the banquet room and ducked into the hallway. “It’s Ward.”

“What?”

“My name. I’m not Emily Martin. I’m EmilyWard.”

Whip blinked and scanned my features.

“He’s my stepdad, but he raised me.” I lifted my chin. “So even if I would have introduced myself that night as Emily Ward—but, honestly, who even does that?—it wouldn’t have made a difference.”

Whip’s lips pressed together as he considered. His jaw flexed. “So why is the only picture that the chief has of you in his office from when you were a kid?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “Oh my god, I hate that picture. It’s from like fifth grade, and Dad always said it was his favorite picture of me—that I would always be his Melly.”

Whip’s eyebrows shot up. “Melly?”

“Smelly Melly.” I pierced him with a pointed stare. “I was a weird kid, okay?”

His laughter rang out, and I shushed him. My teeth ground together. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have something to say about nicknames,Whip?”

His flat stare gave nothing away. “Did you want something from me?”

My eyes flicked to his full lips. What I wanted—what my body wanted, and my head knew was smart—were twoverydifferent things.

My exhale was shaky. “I just didn’t want you to think that I knew...” I met his gaze. “Before.”

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