Page 16 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Sheriff

She sucks in a breath. “Griff⁠—”

“I’ve got you. Let go of the sheets. And maybe take off the watch.” She does, tossing it off onto the floor. Then reaches for me, her fingers sliding into my hair, and I lower my mouth to her and finally, finally find out what she tastes like.

She’s better than the cookies. I’d tell her as much, but my mouth’s busy.

I take my time even though I’m dying, because I want her first climax to completely undo her. Then I’ll slowly put her back together one kiss at a time.

I learn her by the sounds she makes—the hitch when I circle her clit, the whimper when I slide two fingers into her and curl them just right. The way her thighs start to shake around my ears. I keep her right on the edge until she’s saying my name like a prayer and a curse tangled together. Until her heart rate alarm would be going off all over again if the watch weren’t lying face down and forgotten.

“That’s it,” I tell her against her skin. “You’re so close I can feel it. Come on, sweetheart. Give it to me. Come all over my face.”

She shatters. Bows clean off the bed with my name torn out of her. I lick her through every pulse of it, and it is the single best thing I have ever done in my life. And I’m not even wearing my badge.

After, I gather her up against my chest and hold her while she comes back down, both of us tangled sideways across her bed, the duck robe still on, but now parted and not covering much.

She presses her hot face into my throat. “I cannot believe you caught me doing that. That’s so embarrassing. I might actually die. Death by mortification. Round two. It’s a theme with us. But this is undoubtedly worse than having blue paint on my face.”

“You want embarrassing?” I press my lips to the top of her head. “I had to take myself in hand in your shower. I was imagining all kinds of filthy things I wanted to do to you. I knew I had to do it just so I could sit next to you on that sofa without disgracing myself.”

“You did not.”

I nod. “Face against your tile. Your name in my teeth.” I feel her go still. “So we’re even. More than even. I’ve got you beat.”

She lifts her head and looks at me, wonder etched in her features.

“I did. And I’d do it again.” I brush her hair back off her face. “You’ve got no idea, do you. None.”

“No idea about what?”

Here’s the part I’ve been refusing to say out loud.

“That day. The first emergency alert. When I came out and found you on the ground.” My thumb traces her cheekbone.

“For the record, I was on the ground looking for an earring. I did not fall. Not that I have proof since my watch has sent you so many alerts and I probably am ridiculous most of the time.”

“Hope. I don’t think you’re silly or ridiculous or incompetent. I think you’re the most capable, stubborn, self-sufficient woman I’ve ever met. Rescuing you was never the point.” I make myself say the whole potentially embarrassing truth of it. “The reason I came out every time—the reason I wouldn’t let Tate or any of the other deputies take a single call is that I can’t stop thinking about you. That’s all it ever was. A grown man who can’t keep his head straight because some woman at the end of a county road got under his skin. So deep under my skin I’m not sure anything will ever change that.”

She’s staring at me now. “How many of those alerts were you already⁠—”

“Close by?” I exhale. “Pretty much all but the first one. I told myself I was patrolling the east end. There’s nothing to patrol on the east end, Hope. I was driving past your place to see your lights were on. Never stopped. Never let you know. Just—needed to know you were all right, and then I’d go home and hate myself for it.” I hold her gaze. “So no. I never thought you were helpless. I just couldn’t stop coming to you.”

For a second she doesn’t say anything at all. Her eyes go bright and wet, and for once—for the first time since I’ve known her—Hope Bailey is speechless.

Then she climbs over on top of me and kisses me like she needs my kiss as much as she needs air.

I run my hands up her naked skin. She’s impossibly soft and I squeeze her plump ass.

“Tell me you’re sure,” I say against her mouth.

She’s already shoving the terry-cloth of the robe out of the way, baring me to her. I’m rock hard, have been since I put my mouth on her pussy.

“I need you to be completely sure, because once we do this, I know I’ll want to do it again and again.

She lowers her wet pussy and slides herself against my dick.

“Christ, Hope. You’re going to make me pop off before I’m even inside you.”

“I’m sure, Griff. I have never been this sure of anything.”