Page 7 of Rescuing Royce

Royce always anticipated the unexpected. It was in his job description. He’d make sure no one would ruin the evening for the Outlaws’ baseball team or his sister.

“Hey, back.” Royce nodded but continued to scan the growing crowd. Reese had already scolded him once for staring down another partygoer till the guy almost tripped. Well, too bad. He never turned off his inner radar for trouble. Unless he was horizontal, or hell more likely holding a woman up against a wall while they both reached a happy ending. And even then, it was less than an hour in off-line mode.

Ten years on the force between Dallas and Pineville had ingrained habits in him that were hard to break, even off duty.

“You been hitting the gym, man, you’re ripped.”

Drunk-guy was now slurring his words. Awesome. Royce controlled the urge to roll his eyes. Most of the people in his circle growing up weren’t in his circle now, and he liked it that way.

Plus, the last thing he wanted was to reminisce about the stupid crap he and his friends had done back in the day. What hewanted was sitting by herself at the bar in a dress that ignited a constant itch to caress every curve the thin material hugged.

He’d already had to count to twenty—twice whenever he caught a glimpse of Amber’s legs. She was maybe a few inches shorter than his own six-one, and he loved a tall woman with curves. Damn, if she didn’t have legs for days. Legs he wanted wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her.

The last few months had been the longest he’d gone without taking a woman to bed since his early twenties, but he couldn’t deny that she was the only one who managed to get him hard lately simply by being in the same room. And that was why he’d promised himself he was taking a break from this friend group. He no longer trusted himself when it came to her.

And if Reese found out he was thinking about bedding Amber, she’d start lecturing him again about his tomcat ways. Or, her favorite lecture, “Isn’t it time you picked one woman and worked on a real relationship?”

Yeah, his sister was undoubtedly aware of his love-em-and-leave-em history, but she didn’t know everything. Thankfully, they didn’t have any weird twin connection where they could read each other’s thoughts or whatever. Because Royce’s needs weren’t for every woman. However, he was happy to accommodate the ones who were as hungry as he for intense sex without any strings. And he was more than happy to play out their cop fantasy for a night. But that’s as long as he stuck around.

Amber didn’t give off that vibe, but it didn’t stop him from thinking how he could separate her from her clothes whenever he saw her. But tonight, she was a damn distraction he didn’t need. Yet that didn’t keep him from looking—looking never hurt.

Thinking of her again had him gazing in her direction. Dammit, he was setting himself up for disappointment and a shitload of frustration. Nothing would happen between them, aslong as he stayed away. Just as he was going to turn back to Tyson, who hadn’t stopped his yammering, Royce caught Amber gaze in his direction. Not just in his direction but at him point-blank. Pent up sexual desire punched him square in the chest.

Her gaze was full of all the things he’d wanted to do to her, and he almost forgot to breathe. She didn’t turn away. She held his gaze. Her directness threw him off. He’d pegged her for a “good girl” but never expected she’d be the pursuer.

Why was he hesitating? He always went after what and who he wanted. Always had. But this time felt—different. Could it be that he’d been thinking of her as off-limits for so long that he’d never considered she might want the same?

Damn if she wasn’t sending him an invitation. She looked down at her drink, then back up at him and smiled again before she turned away. That was an unmistakable signal from a woman; she wanted him, and he was letting her connection to his sister play with his head. Well, screw that.

Sure, they’d only had a few short interactions, and he’d always behaved since his sister was typically around. But she wasn’t now. What was the harm in a little verbal foreplay? It would tell him once and for all if he should shut down his thoughts about her or offer her a night. A night they’d both walk away from satisfied; his curiosity and need for her put to rest. Then maybe he could get back to his normal routine.

His gaze still on her, Amber looked over her shoulder and locked eyes with him as if daring him. Well now, he never backed down from a dare.

Unaware he’d taken a step toward her, the man he’d quickly forgotten about blocked him.

“Royce? Hey man, there are a ton of sweet things here for the taking. You pick one out yet?”

Reason number one he hadn’t looked up old friends stood next to him. Tyson. Yes, thank god, that was it, Tyson Brown.That was drunk-guy’s name. Memories flooded him, and he remembered exactly who the d-bag was. In high school, Tyson often took before given permission by girls who’d had too much to drink. Royce may have walked that line once, but he’d wised up. A willing woman was much more satisfying.

Unimpressed, Royce watched as Tyson puffed out his puny chest and scanned the crowd.

“So, what’s your gig now? You seem a bit more, what’s the word am I looking for? You’re not as… I don’t know, relaxed or whatever. You were always looking for a good time when we ruled the streets. Man, what happened to you?”

He looked back in Amber’s direction and noticed several of the rookie players had walked over to her. A shot of something he didn’t recognize landed in his gut. He didn’t like it, nor what the feeling likely represented.

He wasn’t a jealous guy, so he took the unfamiliar anger of seeing other guys hit on Amber and turned and dumped it all over Tyson. Royce felt just mean enough to yank the jerk’s chain with a healthy dose of truth.

“I left Pineville and grew up for starters. I’m past the sweet young thing phase, and you should be too. Hell, you plan on partying forever? And as far as my “gig,” I joined the police force in Dallas, worked my way up, and landed in SWAT here in Pineville. So, keep it in your pants and go easy on the whiskey. That used to be your thing, right?” Royce flexed his fingers and took in a breath. He didn’t want a fight; just needed to let out a little steam.

“Damn. You used to always be up for a party, and any girl you could separate from her panties. You changed, man.” Tyson drained his glass and wiped his face with the back of his hand.

Yeah, his high school friends were full of class. He hoped Tyson behaved. The last thing he wanted to do was haul his ass in.

“Well, you have fun bouncing or whatever it is your sister’s paying you to do. I’m headed for some prime tail. See ya.”

Royce slammed his arm up and pressed it into Tyson’s chest. He locked eyes with the drunk, “Like I said, keep it in your pants, and we’ll be good. You got it?”

Tyson’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and a sheen of sweat appeared on his hawkish face. Royce kept him locked in place. Training kicked in, it always did, and he softened his voice even though he wanted to growl. “You keep it nice and polite. This is not the night and definitely not the place to cause trouble. You understand?”

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