She looks up at me. “What?”
“That’s a kill kit!”
“Well, yes, and a girl shouldn’t go anywhere without one.”
I run my hand down my face. “You are a living nightmare. You are not killing anyone while living in my house!”
She waves me off. “I haven’t killed anyone in months.”
Oh, that’s a relief.
“I’m serious, Monty. If you think I won’t arrest you, you’re wrong.”
Monty stands, slowly—silver handcuffs from her suitcase of death dangling from her finger. She approaches me, jostling them, the metal clanging together. “Promise?”
Enough of this bullshit.
I snatch the cuffs, spin her, and pin her hands behind her back, snapping them on with the kind of speed and accuracy that thirty years in a uniform gives me. She squeaks as I pin her face down on the bed and lean over her.
“You see how easily I can do this?” I ask, moving her hair aside so I can see the side of her face. “I could haul you in right now and your life would be over.”
Monty bites her bottom lip. “What would you do to get me to talk?”
This woman is unbelievable. Nothing seems to phase her, not a damn thing, and it’s unnerving. It’s as if she recognizes what she has to lose but doesn’t quite care—or she’s totally sure she’ll never face the punishment she deserves.
Pressing my front to her back, I whisper in her ear, “You’re pushing your luck with me, and it’s only day fucking one.” She arches her lower back, rubbing herself against my crotch. My dick betrays me, thickening quickly at the feel of her firm ass, but there’s no way I’m falling for the oldest trick in the book. I flip her onto herback, and she wets her lips before wrapping her legs around my waist and yanking me close with surprising strength.
We’re pressed together, and now it isn’t only my dick betraying me.
It’s my mind.
The familiar scent of cherries reaches my nose, and I wonder if it’s shampoo she brought with her or the perfume from her bag.
She runs her tongue across her bottom lip. “Please, Officer.” She rolls her hips, and I close my eyes against the sensation, feeling the warmth of her pussy, which means her towel has moved up and the only thing between us is my jeans. “I’ll do anything not to get a ticket.”
Fuck, it’s been too long since I was in a position like this. Since I was tantalizingly close to fucking someone, losing myself in them, forgetting everything but the push and pull of our bodies. It’d be so easy to give in, to?—
No.
What the fuck am I doing?
I shoot up, shaking off the feeling, the realization of who this is immediately softening my dick. I point at her. “Quit fucking around.”
She stretches her arms above her head, grinning like a cheshire cat. “Sorry.”
“Wait …” I stare at her hands. “How did you get the cuffs off?”
“Magic,” she whispers.
“Get dressed.” I storm toward the door. “And close that fucking suitcase!”
Chapter 3
Guy
Because our grocery store visit was a bust, I order pizza. Not knowing what serial killers like, I order one vegetarian and one packed with meat, and busy myself cleaning an already tidy kitchen.
What the hell was I thinking earlier? Even if Monty wasn’t a killer, I’m twenty years older than her. And she’s a family friend. Though Ella refers to her as more of a frenemy.
