“Wriggle your ass and I can’t promise this bullet will hit the target.”

I won’t be wriggling my ass. “You’re a pain in my ass, Detective.” And a literal kinda one if he doesn’t get his erection under control.

“Jesus, Noelle,” he breathes. “Shut the fuck up and shoot so I can let go of you.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Kiss your fuckin’ cupcake goodbye.”

Well, now. That’s quite the threat. One I am so not willing to risk.

“Okay, Mr. Instructor. Teach me how to shoot this load. I mean, the gun. The gun.”

“Noelle,” he growls. He lets gun go and grasps my hips.

My dress bunches under his rough touch, and I inhale sharply at the jolt it sends through me. His warm breath flutters across the back of my neck when he reaches up and moves my hair away. And it gets warmer, and warmer, and warmer, until oh shit, that’s not his breath anymore.

His lips, soft and red hot, press against the base of my neck. Bursts of heat shoot right through my body at the very simple touch, and my blood pumps harder and faster until all of me is on fire.

Drake drags his mouth across my skin, peppering tiny kisses between firmer, longer ones. I can’t think. At all. There’s just his mouth on my skin and his hands on my hips and his erection pressing against me. I can’t breathe right. I want to close my eyes and forget everything and savor his touch.

“Pull the trigger,” he whispers against the side of my neck. “Now.”

I do.

Completely uncontrolled by me, my finger pulls and the gun goes off.

The bullet doesn’t even hit the rings of the target.

“You’re a prize bastard,” I breathe, putting my gun down and breaking free from his hold.

He steps toward me, pushing me against the ledge where our guns are, and grips it on either side of my body. “I know,” he whispers, dipping his face down to mine.

My mouth goes dry as his eyes drop to my mouth. His hard cock is pressed against my lower stomach, and my breasts are heaving against his chest as I still struggle to control my breathing. The best I can manage right now is short, sharp bursts of air. They don’t even qualify as breaths, in all honesty.

They’re more like the physical embodiment of my desire right now. And so is the intense throbbing between my legs. Jesus, he could free his cock, slip my panties to the side, and fuck me right here in the middle of the range and I don’t even think I’d care at all.

In fact, right now, I’d welcome it.

“We need to leave. Right now,” he says gruffly, grabbing his gun and moving off me.

I quickly nod in agreement and grab my own, putting it back into my thigh holster. I take two steps past him, but his fingers clasp my wrist and he pulls me back into him.

“Next time you look at me like that, we won’t be walking away from the situation.”

“Like—like what?” My voice is as scratchy as my throat feels.

“Like you want me so far inside you we become the same person, ’cause, Noelle—I’m absolutely not afraid to fuck you until you forget that we are different people.”

I want to say something cocky. Something that’ll throw him off. But I can’t. He has me tied up in fucking knots.

“Noted.”

Noted. Fucking noted. Is that really the best I have?

“Let’s get you your damn cupcake.” He lets me go and stalks past me.

I catch him up by the doors. “Just to clarify, by cupcake, you mean an actual cupcake, right?”

With a deviously sexy glint in his eye and his lips tugged into the most confident smirk I’ve ever seen, he hits me full force with his gaze. “Sweetheart, if I mean I’m going to fuck the hell outta you, I’m gonna say it, not use a cupcake as a euphemism.”

“Unless you’re going to use cupcake frosting as an added extra.”

“I don’t even like cupcake frosting that much,” he admits, grabbing his door handle. “But shit. Now, I want to handcuff you and lick the frosting off your body.”

I blink at him. “That escalated quickly.”

“Agreed. So shut up and get in the truck before something else fucking escalates.”

“Oh! Can you stop outside the office?”

Drake flits his eyes to me. “You’re gonna work?”

“No. I had a new client come in yesterday and I want to see if she brought the contract and retainer yet. She was supposed to report it to the police.”

“Okay, I’m gonna try to keep a level head here, but what the fuck?”

I sigh and summarize my meeting with Natalie. “I told her I needed a police report, because then, if I happen to see the guy stalking her, I can call the cops there and then.”

“And you want to ask me about the ex-boyfriend.”

I suck my lower lip into my mouth and release it on a smile. “Maybe.”

His heavy sigh beats mine, and he makes the turn toward the office. “Fine. Then we’re going to Rosie’s for cupcakes.”

“Rosie’s?”

“If you think I’m driving almost an hour to Gigi’s while my cock is still semi hard, you can think again.”

“Boo. Is this how you normally treat your dates?”

“Don’t date.”

“You don’t date? How do you not date?”

“Cop.”

“So was my married father. My married brother is, and my newly-engaged brother is, too. The other, well… He whores, mostly. And I dated while I was a cop.”

“Homicide cop,” he tries again.

“I’m sorry. I must not know about the part of town where people are dropping likes flies due to murder.”

“Not everyone has to date, Noelle.” He pulls up outside the office. “I made a choice not to after I left the academy and settled in at home.”

“So, you haven’t dated for, what, ten years?” I turn in my seat.

“I whored. One or two dates and that was it. I wasn’t interested in more.”

I can’t help but think that this is rather deep for a first date. “So, what? You’re gonna take me on one more date, pin me against a kitchen counter again, then that’s it? You won’t be interested in more?”

“Believe me, if there were any way I could not want more, I’d take it.”

“What on Earth does that mean?”

“It means that, if I want more with anyone, it’s you.”

“If? How very reassuring.” I unclip my seat belt and, with my hand on the door, look at him. “Well, when you decide, Drake, be sure to let me know what you actually want.” I shove the door open.

Fuck him. I blew off a whole day of work for this goddamn date and for what? A possibility of something more from a guy who admits on said date that he’s always shied away from more?

How about he shies away and kisses my ass as he goes?

His car door opens and closes with a slam, but I’ll be fucked if I’m gonna turn back and listen to him. If he wants more? If? If? I’m not a fucking chocolate cake that’s kind of sickly after a slice or two. I’m a goddamn human being, and either you want more of a relationship with somebody or you don’t.

Ironic considering that, three hours ago, I didn’t know what I wanted. And now that possibility is an if from him, I’m pretty sure I’m erring on the side of wanting him.

Because fucking obviously.

“Fuck me,” Drake calls. “Women. Y’all are always overreactin’ over somethin’.”

“Oh, no!” I turn on my heel, my foot actually stomping on the ground as I face him, and storm toward him. “Women overreact? Are you for real? You bug the ever-lovin’ shit outta me for two weeks about this date. Then you tell me on the damn date that you don’t do more than two dates because you’re a homicide cop in a town with two murders in twenty years? Baciare il mio cazzo—”

He yanks my body against his with one tug of my wrist, and before I can finish telling him to kiss my fucking ass, he slams his mouth against mine. Because I’m completely silenced and trapped against his firm body, my anger has nowhere to go except directly into him. Even as he fists my hair and bites my lower lip, making me gasp, I’m still real fucking pissed with him.