Chapter 11

"Do you always need help with your keys?" I ask as Lorelei misses the keyhole twice before jamming the key inside the lock. "I've never seen you get it on one try."

"It was the handcuffs last night. My hand is shaking tonight. Cut me a break. Are you going to insult me all night?"

"Still drunk?"

"Oddly, no. It took longer to get here with traffic. I'm just thirsty."

I'd like to walk her into the house, get her a glass of water, and tuck her into bed so I know she's safe and can't inflict trouble on civilized society. I try to push aside the thoughts that I'd like to get into bed with her to make sure she stays out of trouble, but I can't let her suck me into her life of depravity.

Eventually, the door opens, and Lorelei walks into the living room, plopping on the couch like she's exhausted. Maybe she is. I look at my black watch and notice it's way past midnight. Somewhere in the back of the house, Bogey barks, and I don't wait for permission. I walk to the utility room and let him out of his kennel, his tail wagging so violently it slaps his flank. "Hi, buddy," I mumble as he stands on his hind legs.

I pat his head and stare at him. Is he begging for a treat? He drops to the floor for a moment and then gets on his back legs again, his tongue lolling to the side and whimpering. "Is there something wrong with your dog?" I yell. "He's being weird."

Lorelei obviously isn't drunk because she runs into the utility room with a concerned look on her face. It doesn't last long, and her smile lights up the room when she sees Bogey. "He wants his hug."

"His what?" I ask, looking back at the dog, who is now hopping around on his hind legs.

"His puppy hug. Here," she says, pushing me to the side, bending down, and wrapping her arms around Bogey. She strokes his head and rubs her cheek against the side of his face. "See. He wants a hug. I've never seen him ask for a hug from anyone but me." She stands up, and her eyes take a second to focus. "He must not think you're the terrible tool you've been to me."

"Terrible tool?" I ask, but she doesn't answer. Bogey gets on his hind legs in front of me and whines.

"Go ahead. Hug him if you want."

I bend down and wrap my arms around my drug nemesis's dog, and he licks the side of my face. I can't help it - I giggle, which causes Lorelei to laugh, causing my dick to twitch against my pants.

I made her laugh, and I'd give my left ring finger to hear it again because of something I said or did. I'd give anything to make her happy. If I only thought she'd give up her ridiculous and unethical career choice, I could come home every night and hug this dog. Hug Lorelei. Kiss her, even. What would it be like to come home and make love to her after a dinner I make for her or after watching a show together?

I look at her feet, imagining them in my lap and perilously close to my…

"Who's my big boy?" she asks, and she's talking to the damn dog again.

Fuck if I don't want her to say that to me. Just once.

I set Bogey down, and he runs for his leash to go outside. "Go get some water or make yourself some coffee. I'll take him out," I say.

"You will?" She eyes Bogey and looks back at me. "You really like him, huh? How do I know you won't steal him?"

"I guess you'll just have to trust me on that one."

She doesn't argue this time, and I quickly take Bogey outside and dispose of his business before coming back into the house to find Lorelei brewing a cup of coffee in her coffee pot.

Her going-out clothes are gone, replaced by pajamas. Her bare toes wiggle against the clean linoleum, and my eyes run the length of her tan, long legs, stopping long enough to admire her plaid pajama shorts that barely cover her ass. She's in a tight, spaghetti-strap tank, and her hair is in a messy bun with tendrils free and hanging down her neck.

"I need to go," I say, jerking my thumb over my shoulder.

"Stay for a cup."

"I told Chase I'd be right back."

"Kailee will keep him company."

"Oh, dear Lord," I mumble, running my hands through my hair. "We left our hot, irresponsible friends together."

"Yeah, that just crossed your mind, huh? I bet they aren't even there right now. He totally bailed on you, and they're probably rolling around Kailee's living room floor naked as we speak."

She passes me a cup of black coffee and waits for another cup to brew from the individual coffee pot. "Why were you at the bar?" she asks, no longer slurring. She's definitely sober enough for a conversation. "Entrapment? Undercover sting for jaywalkers outside?"

I take a sip of the coffee and set it back down. "You know, Lorelei, I'm just going to go if this is going to be weird between us. I'm a good officer. You're a pot baker. I'm doing my job. Maybe I've been…overzealous at bringing you in, but I'm a good cop."

"Overzealous?" she shrieks. "I've never even had an overdue library book, Officer Lane." The way she says the word is choppy. She pronounces every syllable like my name is filth. "Then you come along, and I've been fined and taken to the police station for doing something that is legal now and makes people happy, whether you like it or not."

She leans over the counter and jabs her index finger in my face, and I half want to put it in my mouth and suck on it before biting it off. Never, in my thirty-three years on this infernal planet, have I ever disliked someone so much and wanted to peel their panties off with my teeth at the same time.

"Your coffee's ready," I growl, not blinking, as her cup fills behind her.

"I don't fucking care!" she yells. "Mugshots, Liam! I've had mugshots and fingerprints because you're butthurt about me." She spins around and grabs her coffee off the coffee maker, flips me the middle finger, and drinks a huge gulp of what has to be scalding liquid. "You really should get a life and stop being obsessed with mine," she says, placing the cup down so hard that coffee sloshes onto the counter.

That's a punch to the dick. I'm well aware I don't have a life, but I don't need a drug seller to rub it in. What the hell is she playing at, anyway? Offering me coffee just to yell at me?

"At least my life doesn't involve drugs."

"Well, you're a drug agent, so it kind of does. But that's it, right? Dinner with your mommy once a week and a sad job you get to use for a power trip."

I push my coffee cup back and get up from her stool so fast it falls behind me. I huff out of the room as she laughs behind me, taunting me. "Sure, walk away, Officer Half Inch."

I won't leave like this. Not when she's laughing at my lack of social life or the fact that I just do my job. I spin around and walk back to her, my boots heavy on her floor and the only sound in the room.

As I get close, her eyes widen, and she backs up until she backs into her kitchen counter, the steam from the coffee pot still rising behind her.

Sheer depravity washes over me. Lust. Anger. Disappointment with myself. Disappointment at an amazing woman like her choosing to sell drugs and taunt me with it. My hands flex at my sides, and I push my forehead into hers, her skin hot against mine. I almost let my eyes flutter closed and lean into it, but I keep my eyes open and stare at her as she blinks at the proximity of me. I can see the length of her lashes and small flecks of green in her eyes.

"Fuck you, Lorelei Rogers," I whisper. "You think you know me so well? You're just a drug seller that could be so much more. You could have your own shop and sell respectable baked goods, but you choose to sell poison, something you could have gone to jail for a year ago."

"You're not the boss of my life," she whispers back, and her nose touches mine. I could kiss her now. I could just bend down a little more and drop my lips to hers. Damn, I wonder what she tastes like. "You can't punish me the way you want. I'm so fucking sorry you can't send me to jail for life for selling pot brownies."

I bring my hand to her throat, and she flinches before covering my hand with her fingers. She runs her thumb over my hand, and the innocent gesture nearly makes my core explode with the heat moving from my dick to every inch of my body. "If you think I want to see you in an orange jumpsuit and behind bars, you're wrong, sweetheart. And you're also wrong about the punishment. I can punish you, Lorelei."

"What are you going to do, Liam? Take me to jail again? Kiss me to punish me?" She laughs, and it's a hard sound.

The laughter stops suddenly, and she nuzzles my cheek. "Am I your temptation, Liam? Do you want to be bad with me? Just a little? Just to see what the dark side is like?" She pulls back and runs her tongue up my cheek, humming as she tastes the salt in my skin. "Do it, you fucking coward."

A cross between a chuckle and growl escapes my mouth, and I move my mouth to her ear, leaning in for a whisper and searching for the words I've wanted to say since I first saw her leaning out of the damn truck window.

"Not tonight, Lorelei," I coo and stroke the tip of her chin with my finger. "I won't give you the satisfaction of kissing you and you thinking you're getting a nice goodnight kiss from a nice cop."

She trembles under me, but I spin her around before she can sink to her knees. The way her legs move, they're Jell-O, and that's not my endgame tonight. One day, I'd like her on her knees in front of me, my hands in her hair as I fuck her mouth.

Just not tonight.

Tonight, I'm going to punish her like I've wanted to for days.

I push myself against her body, and she arches into me. "Liam," she whines, her hand coming to my shoulder.

I ignore her sound, even though I yearn to kiss that whine away from her lips. I push her so she's bent over the counter and pull her pants down in one movement, her shorts and panties dropping to the floor at her ankles.

She doesn't cover herself. There's no push against me. She sinks into the counter and grips the grouted tile above her head, knocking over the dish soap dispenser and sending it rolling across the granite. She spreads her legs a little like she's accepting anything I have a mind to slip in there.

And that ass. Fuck me. It's round, full, and the pale skin begs to be reddened by my hand or belt.

I run my hand up her back like I'm soothing a wild animal. Let's be honest, I am. If there's any woman I've met that could be called a wild beast, it's Lorelei Rogers.

"W-What are you going to do to me, Officer Lane?"

My hand runs up her back again, liking the feel of her skin under me, and I grab her entire messy bun in my fist as my other hand moves to my belt buckle. "I'm going to punish you how you deserve."