Page 12 of Deadly Oath

I feel the moment she sways towards me, almost subconsciously. I’d be willing to bet that she doesn’t fully understand what her body is asking for. And even though I know it’s not the right time, it takes everything in me to deny her.

I take a step back, reaching up to disengage her hands from my shoulders as I put space between us. I don’t fail to notice the way she flinches as I do, or the slight spark of disappointment in her eyes. And I have a feeling that this reaction is just as subconscious as the first.

Sabrina is innocent. I’d bet money on it. I doubt she understands her body or the feelings that she’s having in the slightest. And right now, it’s taking every bit of control I possess not to begin her instruction here and now.

If I don’t leave soon, I will.

“I have somewhere I should be,” I say gruffly, putting another few inches of space between us. “Maybe stick to the microwave for a while, hm? Or make sure you have a fire extinguisher on hand.”

Sabrina’s cheeks are pink with embarrassment. “It’s the first time I tried to use the stove,” she says defensively. “I’ve never—” She breaks off, her face reddening even more than she realizes that she’s all but admitted that she’s never tried to cook before.

“Doesn’t surprise me a bit, princess,” I tell her, my mouth quirking up on one side amusedly. Sabrina’s eyes flash, a little of her embarrassment receding as the nickname clearly strikes a nerve.

“I like that even less thancity girl,” she snips, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you left a mess in my kitchen. You’re not going to help clean it up?”

“Better than you burning it down,” I counter. “I was just driving by on my lunch break, to make sure you were alright after that run-in with the snake yesterday. And here I find you about to set fire to your house. Now I gotta get back to work.”

Sabrina tilts her chin up, her arms still crossed over her chest. It’s clear she’s gone from embarrassed to annoyed with me, maybe even a little pissed. But I just find the glimpse of her fire amusing.

I let my gaze slide over her body, just once, letting myself remember what she looked like as she stripped off her clothes last night. Letting myself picture those small, bare breasts, the slender, willowy curve of her hips, the perfect, soft shape of her pussy framed in the oval of her thighs.

I feel that hot throb in my groin, my cock instantly rising to attention, and I push the thought away before it can become too overwhelming. “I’ll see you around,” I say tautly, turning to head towards the half-open backdoor.

“You said that last time.” Sabrina’s arms are still crossed over her chest, her eyes narrowed, and I smirk, winking at her as I glance back at her once more.

“And I did, didn’t I?”

I hear her muttered curse as the door swings shut behind me. And I feel that twinge in my chest again, the sensation of feeling the tiniest bit bad for leaving her with that disaster in her kitchen to deal with. But it was her fault. Just another symptom of what a spoiled existence she must have led up to this point, that she’s twenty-two years old and doesn’t know how to cook.

Apparently, she’s never eventriedbefore.

I shake my head as I stride back to my truck, trying to push all thoughts of Sabrina Miller, her perfect body and soft mouth, and the way she looked up at me for just a second like she was dying for me to kiss her out of my head. I haveactualwork to do, and while I’ve known she was going to be a distraction from the moment I saw her, I have to keep that distraction in its place.

With some effort, I manage to finish the rest of my day at the station without letting my thoughts drift to her all that often. I have a staff meeting with the other deputies to handle, plenty of paperwork to sift through from the transition, and there’s a summons I have to serve before I’m done with the day, which requires me to drive over to the other side of town.

By the time I’m finished with all of that, I’m ready to hit the gym. The encounter with Sabrina has left me humming with pent-up energy, and while I’m tempted to spend a little time in the lockerroom with just me and my hand, right now, I’m more inclined to take it out on the boxing bags.

I have a fight coming up. Since I was a teenager, I’ve trained in boxing and mixed martial arts, and while I’ve never been able to fight in any official capacity, there are plenty of unofficial, unsanctioned fights to be had if a man knows where to look. And I always do.

The routine is a relief in and of itself. I strip out of my uniform, down to a pair of silky basketball shorts and no shirt, wrapping my hands quickly before heading out to the empty gym floor. It’s past seven, and in a town like this, the gym is barely used at all outside of the middle and high school kids who use it for weightlifting practice. By now, they’ve all gone home for dinner, and no one else will come in for the rest of the evening. In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve seen someone stop by all of twice while I’m using the facilities.

I lose myself in the rhythm of my workout, of stretches, pushups, and drills. I’m so focused on it that I don’t even notice the time passing, barely noticing the sweat breaking out across my muscles as I work the bag, putting all of my pent-up energy and frustration into the punches. I picture my opponent at the fight, how I’ll attack, how I’ll make sure I win. I’m so deep into it that I don’t even hear the sound of the front door opening or soft footsteps moving across the floor, not until I circle around to the other side of the bag and see Sabrina Miller standing there, her eyes as wide in her face as they were this afternoon.

“Do you need something?” Once again, it comes out much sharper than I meant for it to. But she’s the last fucking person I ever expected to see walking in here, and the way she’s looking at me, like she’s never seen a shirtless man before, is lighting me on fire in a way that feels dangerously difficult to control. She looks almosthungry, staring at me, her gaze roving over my bare, sweat-slicked muscles as a flush starts to crawl up her throat.

I’d bet money she’s wet right now.Wet, and as hot as she’s making me feel.The thought sends a surge of blood to my cock, and I grit my teeth, willing it down. These shorts won’t hide a damn thing, and if I get a hard-on right now, she’ll see it. But my libido has been ragingsince that near-kiss in her kitchen earlier, and the adrenaline from my workout only fuels it.

I’ve always liked a good fuck after a fight—or a session in the gym. My body doesn’t know the difference, only that Sabrina is standing there, soft lips parted and looking fucking delicious, and I want to toss her down to the mat inside the ring next to me and devour her.

God, it’s going to feel so fucking good when I make her scream for me. When I show her just how good it feels to be fucked by a man who?—

“I’m sorry,” she says, finding her voice only for the last word to end on a squeak. “I—I asked Marie where I could find you, this time of day. After work, I mean. If you weren’t at home. I didn’t want to just come by your house. And she didn’t know, but she asked Greg—that’s her husband, but you probably know that already, and he said—” She trails off, seemingly realizing that she’s rambling. “I just wanted to thank you again,” she says lamely. “Actually, I’m not sure I said thank you before.”

“You didn’t,” I tell her with a rough chuckle. “But I’ll take it now. Anyway, it’s all just part of the job.”

Except standing outside of her window at night with my cock in my fist. That’s definitely not part of the job. And thinking about how I could make her scream with my tongue in her pussy isn’t, either.

“Is it?” she ventures. “I guess I don’t really know what your job is.”

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