Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
God. He’s a dirty talker. And he’s skilled. And he’s uninhibited. Why do his words make me want to explode all over his fingers? Because it never happened. I got close and then we were interrupted. I want more than what we did the night before. I want to take his dick for a spin. I’m betting it’s magnificent. And huge. He has to be proportional, right?
“You going to say something this century?” he asks.
I lick my dry lips and then turn away from Peterson and everyone else in the station. “Miles—”
“Tell you what,” he says, cutting me off. “We’ll go back to Silverton. Or somewhere even farther from Bayfield. No one will see you cavorting with a murder suspect.”
I sigh. “I don’t think you or your brothers had anything to do with that body.”
“But your partner does.”
“Yeah. I haven’t lived here that long, but apparently your old man had a lot of enemies.”
“I might have his DNA, but I never met the man. Never talked to him. Yet I’ve been here less than two weeks and I’ve already met several people who hate his guts, and mine now too. I’m betting that dead guy hated him, too.”
“Most likely, but it’s my job to prove it.”
Silence for a moment, until—
“I’m aging here, Hopkins. I don’t give a shit about the investigation, as long as it steers away from me and my brothers. I want more of you. You. Not your badge. Although…you can bring the handcuffs.”
I close my eyes, draw in a breath, and can’t help but smile. “Okay. Just dinner. And somewhere…not here.”
“You choose the place. I don’t know the area very well yet.”
“There’s a cute little Italian place in Silverton. I’ll have to meet you there. Around seven?”
“Hell, no,” he replies. “When I take a gorgeous woman out, I pick her up.”
I sigh again. I normally hate pushy, but for some reason, it feels good with him. He’s being chivalrous. Manly. After hanging out with Peterson at work, a real man is what I need. “Okay. But not at work. I’ll meet you outside Millie’s at six-thirty.”
“All right. But you better be in disguise. You wouldn’t want anyone to see you get into a car with the notorious criminal Miles Bridger.”
Shit. “Right. I’m not thinking.”
“You could give me your address, you know. That’d make this a lot easier.”
I could. But I’m a cop. I know better than to give out my address to someone I just met—especially a suspect in an investigation, even if I do think he’s innocent.
Someone I just met who had me on the brink of an orgasm last night in a public place…
Instinct.
Peterson made a big deal about instinct.
He may think I have none, but he’s dead wrong. I’ve relied on instinct my whole life, and I won’t let some cowboy cop convince me I don’t have any.
My instinct tells me the Bridgers are innocent, and it also tells me I have nothing to fear from Miles. I mean, what’s the difference between getting into a car with him at Millie’s and getting into a car with him at my place? He might be a stranger to me, but he’s infamous in town. From what I’ve heard about the will, he’s not going anywhere for a year.
Regardless, he’ll know where I live.
“Fine. Six-thirty.” I share my address. “It’s an old house converted into three apartments.”
“Good girl. Six-thirty it is. Wear the skirt from last night.”
I frown. “Why?”
“You looked hot as hell in it.”
I don’t reply. I’m too busy squirming against the tickle between my legs.
“Hey Sadie?”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t fucking wait.”
Miles looks like he could be on the cover of a magazine. Some outdoorsy fitness magazine. Not the kind where he’s climbing a mountain, but a gorgeous guy who works out in some underground urban gym with thick ropes to climb, huge tires to flip, and plenty of weights to lift.
He shows up at my place in dark jeans and a black button down that contrasts stunningly with his light hair and eyes. The sleeves are rolled up about halfway to his elbows, and his forearms are corded and sexy. I need to get a better look at those tattoos, too.
And his hands. I didn’t get a good look at them in the dim lighting of the bar the night before, but I felt them. They’re big and strong and perfectly shaped.
God, those long, thick fingers…
One of which was inside me last night…
Already I’m feeling the anticipation between my legs.
“You look beautiful.” He steps close and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear.
Goose bumps skitter across my flesh. “Thank you. You look great too.”
“Don’t make me blush.” He smiles and…shit, a dimple appears. “Shall we?”
I’m a curvy woman, but Miles Bridger makes me feel almost petite. He’s got to be six-five at least, and his shoulders are broad and beefy. I’m the one in law enforcement, the one who does the protecting, but right now, I feel…feminine. Small. Protected.