How Hard Can It Be (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters) Page 10

  I couldn’t help laughing. My mother and aunt had obviously clued him in on his fictional last name. He might have a sense of humor, but he was still the enemy. I couldn’t let his assorific behind, hot bod, and beautiful face cloud my judgment. What in the hell was he doing here? How did he get into my building? I was so not ready to do hard time. “Do you have a search warrant?”

  “Um, no. Should I?” He sounded confused. Good. I planned to keep the bastard on his toes. I would not go willingly and I wouldn’t open the door.

  “Why are you here?” I asked warily.

  “Because I want to see you. You didn’t call me.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  “I ate your card.”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I. Ate. Your. Card.”

  There was a long pause. I realized I sounded as insane as my Aunt Phyllis. That wasn’t such a bad thing; maybe he’d run away.

  “Did it taste good?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Rena, open the door.”

  “Are you going to handcuff me?” I demanded.

  “Not unless you want me to,” he laughed. “Rena, open the door, please. It’s a social call.”

  Social call, my butt. I yanked open the door, ready to give him a piece of my mind, and was rendered speechless. I’d seen many pretty things in my life, but nothing as stunning as the man standing in my doorway. Shit, shit, shit. How could he look better than I remembered? His faded jeans weren’t too tight or too loose. His long-sleeved henley amplified his muscular chest and arms and the color matched his gray-blue eyes. It wasn’t fair. It didn’t matter how good-looking he was, it couldn’t erase the fact that he wanted to throw me in the slammer and ruin my life.

  He stopped in the doorway. His eyes got large as he took in my outfit. Good. He could see what he would never have. I noticed he moved in a few steps, making it impossible for me to slam the door in his face without breaking his nose.

  His eyes were glued to my chest, which was being firmly hugged by Captain Crunch and no bra.

  “Um, hello,” I snapped, jolting him out of his boob fantasy. “My face is up here.”

  He had the decency to look embarrassed, but that didn’t stop his appraisal. His eyes traveled lazily to my neck, my lips, my eyes, lingering everywhere they passed. Delight and something I couldn’t define flashed in his gorgeous eyes. I felt a little light-headed. . . I realized I had forgotten to breathe.

  “Hi Rena.” He grinned and stepped toward me. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

  “Really?” I lifted an eyebrow and backed up into the wall. “I haven’t thought about you at all, not once . . . not even a little bit . . . at all . . . ever.” I shoved my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t grab him and yank him to me, or worse.

  “You haven’t thought about me once?” He made a sad face. His eyes were anything but sad. They were come fuck me, bedroom eyes.

  Shit, I was in trouble.

  “Nope, not once.” I tried to back up some more, but a wall is a wall. If he didn’t stop looking at me like that, my inner slut would take over and I’d ride him like a cowboy. “So are you here to arrest me?”

  He stared at me in confusion. “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I am, you idiot.”

  The expression on his face clearly evidenced that not many people call him an idiot. Bizarrely enough, he seemed to enjoy it. That was a good thing because I had an arsenal of things I planned on calling him.

  “Did you do something else illegal?” he asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep his eyes glued to mine. My tatas were apparently too much of a distraction.

  “No, I did not,” I huffed. His intense concentration on my body set off fireworks in my stomach, not to mention that my lady bits were dancing up a storm in my panties. He needed to leave. Now. “It was lovely seeing you again. Sorry you have to go so soon,” I chirped trying to push him toward the door, but six-foot-two of solid muscle is not easy to move.

  He laughed. God, he was so sexy when he laughed. I couldn’t think straight when I was near him. Thank Jesus, I had the wall to hold me up. He moved closer and stopped inches from me. My insides started to tighten.

  “You’re a mystery,” he said running a finger along my bottom lip. I leaned forward with a burning desire to take that finger into my mouth and suck on it. What the fu . . . ? I was beginning to think I might have inherited some of Uncle Fucker’s ho-bag tendencies.

  I pressed myself back up against my friend, the wall. I was hoping to put more than just a few inches between us. This man, this Jack, this cop, was making me consider things I’d never imagined doing in this lifetime. Evangeline’s fornicating statues came to mind.

  He moved even closer. I closed my eyes, praying that if I couldn’t see him, the need to knock him to the ground and have my way with him would disappear. Maybe, just maybe, if I couldn’t see his lips and his eyes and the sexy stubble on his cheeks, my body would relax and the pressure between my legs would lessen.

  No. Such. Luck.

  Damn, he smelled good. I opened my eyes to find the object of my desire and possibly the instrument of my incarceration a simple breath away from my lips. His eyes were intense. He put his hands on the wall on either side of me. Successfully, but loosely, trapping me. I knew I could get away if I wanted to . . . I didn’t want to. God, I hadn’t been this turned on in like . . . ever.

  “Is this normal police procedure?” I whispered.

  “Nope.” He grinned.

  “Then what is it?” Was that my voice? I sounded like a freakin’ phone sex operator.

  “This is me, Jack, wanting to get to know the most gorgeous, sexy, and possibly craziest girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

  “Oh, okay then.”

  He slowly bent his elbows, his eyes never leaving mine, until his chest was pressed against my breasts. I felt my nipples harden. His eyes flashed with delight and the corner of his mouth lifted into the sexiest smirk I’d ever seen. I was very sure he no longer wanted to arrest me.

  “Is this okay?” he asked.

  “Um, yes,” I muttered, positive he could hear my heart bouncing around in my chest.

  He was so close I could taste his breath and it tasted good. If he pressed himself against me any harder, I was liable to have a very loud, screaming orgasm. He smiled as if he knew what I was thinking.

  “I’m not sure Saturday night is such a good idea,” I mumbled.

  “No?” he whispered into my mouth. “I think it’s a great idea.”

  To my horror, my tongue darted out and ran slowly over my lips. He smiled evilly and made the sexiest sound I’d ever heard. The blue of his eyes intensified. Help me, Jesus.

  “I think it’s a bad idea,” I gasped. If he didn’t back off soon, I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions. I didn’t think he’d take issue with what I wanted to do to him, but even I knew screwing the guy that could take my freedom away was probably a bad move.

  I wondered if I just kissed him once, if he’d leave it at that. Somehow I didn’t think so. He so did not seem the type to kiss and run. He seemed more of a kiss and kiss and kiss guy . . . starting at my mouth, then my neck, then lower and lower and lower and . . .

  “Are you still in there?” Jack snapped me out of the porno playing in my head with a twinkle in his eyes, leading me to believe he could tell what I was thinking. Shit, was he one of those psychic cops?

  “Still here,” I murmured.

  “Excellent. I’d hate to lose you now. We’re just getting to the good part.”

  My knees buckled as he nipped and kissed my neck. He grabbed me as I started to melt into a puddle at his feet. The entire length of his body was pressed to mine. And let me tell you, it was one hell of a body. Every long, hard, muscular inch of him.

  “Oh my God,” I whimpered, grasping his broad shoulders and pressing back against this man I barely knew. Who, until two minutes ago, I thought wanted to take me to jail. Maybe he had a weird
fetish for lawbreakers . . .

  “You are wild and beautiful and totally disrespectful,” he whispered, running his tongue along my earlobe. He continued to speak softly, and I continued to lose brain cells. He ran his lips over my jaw and back to the corner of my mouth. I shuddered and almost passed out.

  His eyes bored into mine with an intensity that scared the hell out of me and turned me on at the same time. “I think your outfit is kinda hot,” he said, grinning.

  “Just kinda?” I let my inner slut out and put my best flirt on.

  “Just kinda, definitely, absolutely hot.” He was a pretty damn good flirt himself.

  He placed his hand on the small of my back, trapping me for real. No getting away this time, not that I wanted to. I threaded my hands through his thick blond hair, cupped the back of his neck, and pulled his lips to mine. He teased my mouth with the tip of his tongue, licking along my lower lip before he slanted his mouth across mine and turned me to jelly. He parted my very willing lips with his tongue and took his slow sweet time. His body against mine sent a warm heat coursing through me, making my girlie parts sing. Loud. Kissing him was better than any sex I’d ever had.

  Sex with him would be . . . God, I couldn’t even . . . I bet it would be better than black raspberry chip ice cream. Legs, I couldn’t feel my legs. Oh God, I couldn’t . . . He tasted so good. I kept trying not to notice, but he was determined to remind me. His hands moved to my bottom, grinding me against an erection so impressive, I felt light-headed. This guy was killing me.

  My wisp of silk panties were now soaked and my body had grown its own brain. My inner slut was having a gymnastics meet in my nether regions and I prayed silently Jack had condoms in his wallet. I really, really wanted to get him naked and make him see God.

  My traitorous body was writhing all over his and the gorgeous cop was having a difficult time maintaining control. God, that’s hot. But more alarming than what I was doing was what I was thinking. I want him to be mine. That’s right, I want to marry him, bear his children, and fuck him into unconsciousness every night for the rest of my life. I want to sink into him and claim him as mine. Mine, mine, mine. No one else can have him. Ever.

  WTF? Had I lost my mind? In the span of an hour, I’d gone from wanting to kill him to wanting to kill any girl who so much as looked at him. I needed therapy and my inner ho-bag needed to be bitch-slapped.

  Jack pulled back with supreme effort, putting some distance between us. His breathing was ragged. That’s nothing; I couldn’t even remember how to breathe.

  My lady bits informed me it was time to throw him to the floor and ride him blind. Neither me nor my nether regions cared if the entire building heard us. But wait . . . I couldn’t. Because he was talking . . . Why was he talking? What in the hell was wrong with him?

  “I am completely undone by you. I’ve never wanted anyone so badly in my life.”

  “Then what the hell are you waiting for?” I demanded. Fuck, did I say that out loud? Yes, I did.

  “I want you for more than one night.”

  Wasn’t that my line? Was Herbie the Dentist Cop right? Was Jack gay? No way. The gun he was packing in his pants was clear evidence to the contrary.

  “We are going to get to know each other first,” he continued.

  “Well, it’s probably a good thing that we didn’t, um . . . you know, do it,” I replied flippantly.

  “Why’s that?” He tilted his head to the side and smiled. I almost forgot my name.

  “Because I don’t date cops.”

  “Really?” He grinned.

  “Yup, I don’t like them.”

  Before I even saw him move, he was back up in my face, his body grinding into mine. Can’t think, can’t think, can’t think.

  “We’ll see about that, Rena.”

  He leaned in and gently pressed his lips to mine. My eyes fluttered shut and all my resistance melted away. He deepened the kiss, then pulled back.

  Embarrassingly, I gasped at the loss, but did enjoy watching Jack struggle with himself. I hoped he got a raging case of blue balls.

  He ran his fingers lightly across my collar bone and down my arm. His sexy smirk was firmly back in place. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

  Before I could get a word out, he was gone. I sank to the floor and dropped my head into my hands. Shit. I was in lust with the enemy and he wouldn’t even screw me. He wanted to know me better. . . that couldn’t possibly turn out well.

  I crawled over to my now melted bowl of ice cream and realized I still had no idea how he’d gotten into my building. Maybe he was friends with the guy who’d moved in downstairs. Maybe they had butt contests . . . standing in front of the mirror in their underpants, trying to figure out whose butt was hotter. I’d seen both and I’d have to call it a draw. I giggled at the thought of two hot guys in their underpants comparing asses. As hot as Jack was, I still didn’t trust his motives . . . Shaking my head and trying to remove him and what could have happened from my brain, I went in search of Vinnie the Vibrator. My lady bits would bitch at me all night if I didn’t comply with their demands. So much for a boring evening . . .

  Chapter 11

  Pirate Dave grabbed his throbbing tallywhacker in agony, raised his eyes to the heavens, and screamed for all he was worth. “Why me? Why have I been cursed with a johnson that won’t go down?”

  So caught up in his own angst, he squeezed his winkie for all it was worth. “Goddamn,” he yelped, letting go of himself and running in circles like his feet were on fire. He shook his fist at the sky and cursed up a storm. “Poseidon, you fat bastard, if I ever die, your jiggly ass is mine. I know you’re up there laughing, you porcine motherfucker,” he screeched.

  As his rant at the obese god escalated, the horizon filled with a blazing purple light and a shape-shifting, fairy-like blind troll dropped out of the sky and landed smack on top of Pirate Dave, giving him a minor concussion.

  “What the fuck?” Pirate Dave yelled, throwing the sightless troll twenty-seven feet away from him. “Who are you?”

  The shape-shifting, fairy-like troll got up and brushed himself off. He was pissed. “Well, you idiot, I’m supposed to be your blind magical fairy troll, but after a reception like that, I think I will become your archenemy,” he huffed, in a teeny-tiny squeaky voice.

  “I’m over here,” Pirate Dave offered, as the blind troll had been speaking to air.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “No biggie.”

  The blind troll fairy turned forty-five degrees to his left and continued. “Poseidon said you were a dick, but . . .”

  “Dude,” Pirate Dave cut him off, “you need to turn about twenty-two degrees to your right.”

  The blind shape-shifting fairy-like troll’s face burned crimson with embarrassment. “Is that better?” he asked as he made the adjustment.

  “Yep.”

  “Thanks. Now as I was saying, Poseidon said you were a dick, but he didn’t say anything about how stinky you are.”

  “That’s my manly smell,” Pirate Dave haughtily informed the troll. “Plus, I’d guess your sense of smell is pretty sharp considering you can’t see a goddamn thing.”

  “True. So what is your problem?”

  “My salami won’t go down. No matter how many beautiful large-breasted women I bed, no matter how many sheep I befriend, no matter how many times I yank my pud, no matter . . .”

  “I get it,” the blind fairy troll interrupted. “I can help you with that.”

  “You can?” Pirate Dave was ecstatic. “If you can help me, I will restore your sight. I am a time-traveling vampire warlock, after all,” he boasted.

  “That sounds fair.” The little troll nodded his bulbous head. “Go ahead and give me back my vision and then I will take care of your wanker. It would be far wiser if I could see before I deal with your skin flute.”

  Pirate Dave readjusted his rock-hard electric eel and lifted his arms in the air. The blind troll almost passed out from the foul odor
wafting from the pirate’s pits, but he plugged his nose and went with it. He’d been blind for twelve thousand years. He’d wade through a pile of poop to get his sight back.

  Pirate Dave dirty danced and swore profusely. Warlock spells tend to be vigorous and profane. Sweat poured from Dave as he bounced up and down like he was having an epileptic fit. The troll learned seven new swearwords. He tucked that info away for future use. Pirate Dave finished and the blind troll was no longer blind.

  “It’s your turn now,” Pirate Dave bellowed. “You will make the problem with my pork sword go away. Now!”

  The troll peered over at Pirate Dave. He was ridiculously handsome in a big, macho, hairy, smelly way. The troll, not one to welsh on a bargain, giggled and turned to the left three times, hopped on his right foot, then his left. Lightning split the sky and a huge wind whipped viciously across the deck of the ship. Three deckhands were blown to sea, never to be heard from again. Pirate Dave didn’t care, he just wanted freedom from his ding-dong. He was tired of his life being dictated by the randy desires of his love muscle.

  “It is done!” the little troll screamed, laughing maniacally.

  Pirate Dave realized the obscene pressure between his manly hairy thighs was gone. A huge grin split his face. His life was his own again. He was free!

  He looked down at his lack of erection and froze. Icy fear ripped through his body, causing temporary paralysis, and he screamed like a little girl. He no longer had a hard-on. . . because he no longer had a penis.

  “Holy shit,” Shoshanna choked, “you castrated the hero.”

  “Yes, I did,” I replied smugly. I couldn’t tell if Cecil was trying not to laugh or cry. He buried his head in his hands and rocked silently back and forth.

  Evangeline slapped her frosted mauve claw down on the table in our icky pink office and began her tirade. “You cannot have a hero who can’t woo and have sex with the large-breasted heroine,” she shrieked.

  “I didn’t say he couldn’t have sex anymore.” I pulled my feet up on the couch Indian style and waited for her to combust.