Page 24 of Naughty Desires

Chapter Nine

Lily

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart jumps when I hear someone pounding on the front door. I can’t imagine who it could be at this time of night. Chris has his own keys and said he would call when he was on his way home from work, with more instructions for the role-play game he wants to play tonight.

After leaving the alley the other night, Chris and I went home and talked for hours, curled up on the couch under a blanket, our arms and legs twined together. We shared our hopes and dreams for the future, our longings, secret desires, and fantasies. Somewhere between the time we got home and the crack of dawn, we laid bare all the fear and anger that had driven us apart until there was nothing left but the connection forged one morning at a bus stop when the 401 drove away, leaving me in the arms of the man I was born to love.

A man with a delicious dominant side and a love of role play.

Tonight is Chris’s night. He wants to show me the side of himself that had been stifled by his mother’s expectations and his own fear of failure. He wants to play a game.

I race down the stairs and through the living room to the front door, tightening the belt of my silk robe around me. Chris instructed me to put on something sexy and seductive and wait for further instructions in bed. I wasn’t expecting visitors.

A quick check through the peephole reveals a police uniform and my heart leaps in my chest. Did something happen to Chris on his way home? Have I lost him after only finding him again?

“Is everything okay?” My words catch in my throat when I see Chris on the front step, his face cold and hard like it was every night over the last year. But instead of his work vest and coveralls, he’s wearing a police uniform: dark blue shirt with gold buttons, a shiny gold police badge, and a domed blue hat. He has a utility belt strapped around his waist containing everything from a stick to handcuffs and from radios to . . . a gun?

“Ms. Lily Meyers?” His gaze travels down my body and then up again, his eyes widening with undisguised interest when I pull the robe tight over my breasts.

“Yes.” I take a deep breath and then another, settling back into my maiden name. I’ve got this. He’s the cop and I’m . . . not sure who he wants me to be, but I have a feeling he wants me to be bad because no one puts a good girl in cuffs.

“Officer Taylor with the Revival police. We’ve had a report of a theft. The complainant, Chris Anderson, says he was waiting for the bus, and you seduced him, lured him into a back alley for sex, and then stole his wallet when he was . . . incapacitated.”

My mouth opens and closes again. Anderson is Chris’s middle name and he’s describing our first date, except it didn’t happen quite that way. The day I finally returned to the bus stop, he gave me the flowers and made me promise to meet him for dinner at a local tapas bar. We had an instant connection. One thing led to another, and we wound up having sex in the back alley behind the bar where we’d danced all night. Unfortunately, we weren’t very discreet, and Chris lost his wallet when we had to make a quick getaway. Lucky for him, a good Samaritan turned in it in the next day.

“I’m afraid you’ve heard wrong. I don’t follow men. They follow me.” I figure I’ll give him some attitude, play the high-society entitled woman his mother always wanted him to marry. I move to close the door, and he grabs it with a heavy hand and pulls it wide open.

“Then you won’t mind me coming inside to check for the missing wallet.” He shoulders his way in, slams and locks the door behind him. Although this is the man I’ve known for the last fifteen years, he seems much bigger in the small vestibule, and very imposing in his police uniform. His biceps bulge from beneath the sleeves and the shirt stretches tight over his broad chest. The handcuffs clank slowly as he walks, and a thrill of excitement shoots through me as I contemplate what he might do with them if I don’t comply with his demands.

“Don’t you need a warrant?” I put a hand on my hip, lift my chin so he knows this won’t be easy.

He leans against the door and folds his arms across his chest and studies me intently, his gaze now dark and dangerous, as if everything changed the moment he closed the door.

“I’ve got a warrant for you.” Without taking his eyes off me, he cups his groin and gives it a lewd tug. “Right here.”

My heart thuds wildly in my chest, as if a bad cop really had invaded my home with malicious intent. I spin around and run through the living room to the kitchen, where I have the best chance of finding a weapon.

Chris laughs, a cruel mocking sound, and his boots thud across the carpet. “Where are you running to, sweet thing?” He stops in the doorway of the kitchen, blocking my only exit. “The way I see it, you have two choices. One, I take you down to the station and charge you with theft and public indecency. I strip off those pretty clothes, put you in a jumpsuit, and toss you in jail with the dregs of Indianapolis. Or two, you get down off your high horse and convince me it was all a big misunderstanding.”

My God. He is really into this, and totally and utterly convincing in his role as a badass cop. How can you know someone for fifteen years and not really know him at all?

“I have a knife.” I pull a blade from the knife block and an amused smile plays over his lips.

“You want to trade all those misdemeanours in for a felony? Be my guest. I would be more than happy to throw you in my cruiser and take you for a ride, although I can’t promise we’d make it to the station without a detour along a dark gravel road in the middle of nowhere.” He tugs open his belt. “Or you can get on your knees in your cozy little kitchen and show me how sorry you are for breaking the law.”

“I didn’t break any laws.” Desire pools between my thighs, pounds through my veins at the thought of kneeling at the feet of this seemingly cold, callous man who holds so much power over me. “You can search the house. You won’t find anything.”

Smirking, he points to the dining room table. How did I not notice his wallet sitting in the center of the table?

“I don’t know how it got here.” My bottom lip trembles. “I didn’t take it.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he says, tugging open his fly. “But there it is, sitting on your table, and you’re the only one here. Now get that smart little mouth over here and we can start crossing all those misdemeanours off the list.”

I sniff, as if I find the whole thing disdainful and make my way toward him. “What you’re doing is illegal.”

“I’m not doing anything.” He points to the floor. “You’re the one who’ll be doing all the work.”

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