Page 12 of Disavowed

Chapter Three

As Daisy dragged Dom down the aisle, he ignored the curious looks directed their way from arriving guests.

He glanced at their linked hands and the pretty pink nail polish gracing her long, smooth fingers. It was impossible not to remember what a turn-on it had been to feel those fingers gripping his ass while he’d come inside her. Several times, he recalled.

Aside from running into her briefly six months ago when Gray had proposed to Alex at Yankee Stadium, he hadn’t seen her in a year. But seeing her again had done weird things to his body. When she’d bent down in that sexy dress to pick up flower petals, his heart squeezed. She was so incredibly beautiful, even in pale pink, which was totally opposed to her vivacious personality.

“C’mon, Detective.” She glanced over her bare shoulder, still tugging him along behind her with her ass wiggling seductively. “I don’t have all day, and we’ve got work to do.” She slowed her pace. “Hey, are you limping?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, still keeping up with her. Just the Coke bottle cap I stuck in my shoe so I wouldn’t forget to limp.

As she pulled him down the aisle he had no idea where she was taking him, but wherever it was spelled trouble. He shouldn’t be going anywhere with her, not after the way his body had reacted to seeing her again. Worse, nothing had changed. That lively spirit that had once drawn him like a moth to a campfire was already luring him toward her irresistible flame. Luckily, she still hated his guts. But that didn’t stop him from thinking dangerous thoughts.

Like how her chestnut hair coiled expertly atop her head exposed all that creamy skin on her neck, especially the sensitive spot he’d discovered just below her ear. And how she’d thrown back her head and gasped while he’d kissed and licked her luscious breasts.

He’d loved every one of her feminine curves and the way her body smelled. Like roses and lilies and other flowers, the names of which he didn’t know. Hell, there wasn’t one part of her incredible body he’d forgotten, but most of all he remembered her eyes. Huge, expressive, whiskey-colored eyes he could get lost in and had.

She turned right after the last pew, kept going to the end of the hall, then pushed open a door. “Sit down while I cover up your bruise with makeup.” She pointed to a chair beside a round white table strewn with cosmetics.

“I don’t wear makeup,” he snapped.

“You do now.” She turned and parked her fists on her hips. “I will not let you ruin Alex and Gray’s wedding photos because you got drunk and walked into a door.”

“I did not—” Fuck. She was the last person he could tell what was really going on. Obediently, he sat. “Yes, ma’am.”

High-pitched, muffled female voices filtered through a closed door that he assumed led to another room used by the bride and her bridesmaids.

Daisy opened a small red case, riffling through the contents before pulling out a clear bag of cotton balls. She came to stand directly in front him, slightly between his legs. When her leg brushed his, his cock jerked to life. He shifted so she wouldn’t notice, but that only brought her into closer proximity. He swallowed the groan rising in his throat.

She paused with a cotton ball clutched in her fingers. “Does it hurt?”

For a split second, he imagined she actually cared whether or not he was in pain, but he doubted it. Not after what a shit I was to her.

He cleared his throat. “Not much.”

“Good.” She opened a small bottle of tan stuff and poured some of the contents onto the cotton ball. Then she dabbed the cotton ball all over the side of his face. He could have been in the most intense pain he’d ever experienced and he wouldn’t have felt a thing. Her incredible breasts were at his eye level, so torturously close all he’d have to do was lean in just a few inches and he could suck one of her silk-covered nipples into his mouth.

As if to salute his thoughts, his cock pressed against his slacks, threatening to come to full attention. Fuuuck. He was thirty-six years old. Old enough to have more control over my boners.

“So what really happened?” She continued dabbing more tan stuff onto his face. “I know you didn’t get drunk on the job.”

“How do you know that?” He raised his brows.

She paused with a cotton ball in her hand and their gazes locked. “Since the day we met, I’ve only spent a grand total of about five hours and five minutes with you, but it’s enough for me to know you wouldn’t disrespect your badge or what that badge stands for by drinking on the job.”

Well damn. He searched her lovely eyes, amazed at how well she got him. Most of his colleagues of ten years had been quick to believe he was on a drunken downward spiral, yet this woman he’d spent only a few hours with, albeit an amazing few hours, understood him well enough to know he would never jeopardize the communities he protected by getting drunk on the job.

She set the cotton ball and makeup onto the table and took a step back, narrowing her eyes as she examined his face. “Better. Let me fix this one spot.” She leaned toward the table and stumbled, falling toward him.

Instinct had him reaching out to grab her by the waist, but he had no idea what made him pull her down onto his lap. She gripped his forearms, struggling to extricate herself.

And didn’t that just get his cock all worked up even more.

“Let me go,” she hissed, glancing worriedly at the closed door. Her eyes glowed with a golden fire.

A fire meant to burn my balls off.

God, she was beautiful. And it was obvious she didn’t want Alex, Cassie, and the other two women in Alex’s bridal party to know he was in her dressing room.