Page 31 of Ace of Spades
“I’m an officer of the law, ma’am. I’m trained to pick up on things.”
“Are you now? Then what am I thinking, Officer?”
He tilted his head and studied her. “Well, you’re wondering if I’m going to frisk you.” She laughed, and it hit him that he liked making her laugh.
“Yeah, you nailed it.”
“I also have one rule for tonight.” He turned the key in the ignition. “No work talk.”
“Definitely a good rule. Where are we going?”
“Told you when I asked you out. Dinner and dancing.”
“Awesome.”
The idea of a date had been a spur-of-the-moment decision simply because he couldn’t bring himself to think of her like one of his usual hookups. She deserved better, and what would a few dates hurt?
Taylor tried to remember the last time she’d enjoyed herself this much as Nate led her around the dance floor of South Beach’s hottest club. He was an amazing dancer for a man who didn’t date, possessing a natural rhythm that she lacked. He kept his hand firmly on her back, and once she’d relaxed and let him lead, she’d stopped worrying about her lack of dancing skills. Or maybe it was the two glasses of wine at dinner that had her feeling limber and mellow. Or it could have been the way he slid his thumb in a circular motion on her back, right above the cut of her dress, that had her practically melting in his arms, so much so that the mechanics of dancing was the last thing on her mind.
Whatever the reason, she was newly in love with dancing, at least as long as it was with him. He pulled her against him, their bodies now touching breasts to chest, hips to hips. She rested her head on his shoulder with her face nestled into his neck. He smelled so good that she wanted to lick him.
When he’d arrived to pick her up, she’d almost forgotten how to breathe. He wore jeans and T-shirts—almost always black—very well. He’d looked delicious in a tux at Court’s wedding. But standing there in a charcoal-gray suit and pale-gray silk shirt, his hair in a ponytail, a ruby earring in one ear, he’d looked like a cover model for a men’s magazine. She wasn’t sure there was another man on the planet who could pull that look off as well as Nate, the mix of business suit and bad-boy long hair and earring.
By the end of the night, she hoped to have that pony-tailed hair loose and falling around his shoulders. The slow song ended, a faster one following it. Instead of letting her go, he kept her against him, only picking up the tempo of their steps. He pushed his leg between hers, his muscled thigh rubbing against both her weapon and her sex. She swallowed a moan as need shot straight to her core.
He chuckled, his warm breath tickling her ear. “Never considered I’d find a gun strapped to the inside of your leg sexy, tiger, but turns out that’s pretty hot.”
“With this dress, it was the only place I could think of to put it.” They both were armed, a requirement even when off duty. His was in a holster under his arm.
“I’ll have to take a closer look later,” he murmured.
“Yes, please.”
He laughed, only the second time she’d ever heard him do so, and she smiled against his neck, very pleased with herself. The man needed her in his life as more than just a friend, and she hoped he was beginning to realize that.
“I’ve always wondered. Why do you call me ‘tiger’?”
He stepped back, lifted their joined hands, and spun her under his arm. Then he pulled her back to him, tucking her against his body again. It happened so fast, and he’d performed the move so expertly, that she hadn’t had time to stumble like an awkward teen on her first date.
“Because tigers are fearless. They’re passionate and elegant. That’s how I see you.”
After that dance maneuver and his answer murmured into her ear, she was toast. If he’d told her right then to wrap her legs around his waist so he could give her what she knew they both wanted, she would have willingly obeyed.
Nate was a tortured soul. She knew that. Although he’d shared much of his life with her, she didn’t doubt there was more that he’d left unsaid. The parts that even he couldn’t bear to revisit. Why he was theone man she craved, she didn’t know. He just was. She longed to soothe his pain and to heal his heart. It hurt that he probably wouldn’t ever allow her to be the one thing that could make him happy.
That was okay, though. It was a given that he would likely break her heart, and she could live with that. She’d survived a life of living on the streets as a child, had kept breathing after her mother’s death, and had been like the phoenix, rising above the ashes to make a life for herself that she could be proud of.
She was strong and Nate wouldn’t break her. But she was willing to let him try.
“Henry’s agitated,” Nate said as he peered into the fish tank.
“What?” They’d just arrived at her apartment. While she’d headed to the kitchen to get him a beer and her a glass of wine, Nate had walked over to see Henry.
She rushed to the tank. Henry was a calm fish, and she’d never seen him agitated, whatever that meant. He seemed to be trying to suck in air the way someone would who couldn’t breathe.
“What’s wrong with him?” She’d had Henry for almost four years and was attached to him, even if he did refuse to follow her finger the way he did Nate’s.
“Looks like he’s having trouble breathing. How long do betta fish live?”
