South Island PD: Dark Blue Part 43

"All right, Princess. I guess I'll be moving into your castle, since you don't have a roommate."

"Does that mean you're formally accepting the t.i.tle of Prince Charming?"

He grimaced. "h.e.l.l no."

"You know what the alternative is, right?" Her eyes lit up with humor, and she smirked.

He pressed his mouth against hers before she could say another word, silencing her first with his lips and then with his tongue. The embarra.s.sing nicknames she loved to throw around were a great excuse to kiss her, hard.

"Come on," she said when they finally broke apart. "I'll be taking your last name, so it's only fair."

"I decide what's fair around here, Mrs. Calder. I'm the one with the law behind me."

She arched a brow. "Is that so, Officer?"

"It is."

"Good luck getting me to believe that. You weren't even going to show up for court over that ticket you wrote me."

"Consider that a warning. You won't get off so easy in the future."

"And what exactly are you going to do to me if you catch me speeding again?"

"Cuff you. Most likely to this bed." His c.o.c.k started stiffening again at the thought.

He was definitely going to do that, regardless of how good her driving was or wasn't.

She pressed her hand against his shaft, her eyes sparkling. "I have to admit, that seems ... fair."

He groaned as she rubbed her hand up and down the length of his d.i.c.k. "Yeah, and you got off with just a fine last time. I've noticed you driving pretty fast lately, though, and that's not safe. It doesn't seem like the fine taught you much of a lesson."

"Old habits are hard to break; a fine's not going to cut it."

He wished like h.e.l.l that he had a pair of cuffs with him, but he didn't his uniforms and equipment were all back at his place.

"Let's go over to my apartment tonight and get some of my stuff."

"Already?"

"Just a few things."

"Like what?"

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her up against his hard c.o.c.k. "You'll see."

Her smile made his chest expand, not with breath, but with happiness. Life was better than it had ever been. h.e.l.l, it was even fun.

And it was about to become even more so she just didn't know it yet.

EPILOGUE.

"How was work?" Belle threw open the door, unable to save her question for when Jackson stepped inside.

He stood on the stoop, looking mouthwatering in uniform. Despite everything, he was the spitting image of himself on the day he'd pulled her over this past summer. To look at him, you'd think he'd never been hurt.

The January chill rushed into the apartment, but it couldn't touch her while she was looking at him he was too hot.

"Good." He pulled his sungla.s.ses off and met her gaze. "I spent all day looking forward to getting home, though."

"Yeah, right." She stepped aside so he could come in, fully aware that he'd been antic.i.p.ating returning to work like some people looked forward to dying and going to heaven.

"You calling me a liar?" He pressed the door shut, locked the deadbolt and held her gaze.

"Yes."

"I guess I'll have to show you how wrong you are." He reached for his duty belt, and something silver flashed in his hand.

Cuffs. Her heart skipped a beat, and her p.u.s.s.y drew tight.

"I made dinner to celebrate your first day back," she said. "All your favorites."

"After," he said, reaching for her wrist.

After one click, he pulled her close and crushed his mouth against hers.

He tasted like coffee and smelled like winter island air and sweat. She couldn't have cared less.

Something hard pressed against her belly, and it wasn't his gun.

She kissed him back as her plans for the evening melted away. When she raised her other hand, intending to press it to the back of his head, he grabbed it and secured it behind her back with the other cuff.

"I love you, Belle." He pulled back just far enough to speak. "More than anything, and that includes my work. Don't ever think I'm not looking forward to coming home to you more than anything else."

He kissed her again, his tongue sliding hard against hers, and then straightened, meeting her eyes.

"I love you too."

His tough cop expression cracked, giving way to a smile. "Good. Now let's have some fun."

Thank you for reading Dark Blue.

Things are just beginning to heat up on South Island. Elijah's story is coming next look for Past Midnight (South Island PD, #2) in winter 2016.

Want to know as soon as Book 2 releases?

Join the South Island PD Series new release e-mail notification list here.

You'll receive an e-mail notification when Past Midnight releases.

What did you think of Jackson and Belle's story? Please consider sharing your thoughts via a review.

Love Southern men in uniform? Read on for a sample of Ranae's Lock and Key Series.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.

Ranae Rose is the best-selling author of more than thirty adult romances and counting. She lives in the sunny South with her man in uniform, children, German Shepherd dogs and overflowing bookshelves. Writing and reading are lifelong pa.s.sions that consume most of her time, and she's always working on bringing her latest love story idea to life for readers.

www.ranaerose.com Want Ranae's latest book news, including access to subscribers-only giveaways?

Subscribe to Ranae's monthly e-mail newsletter.

Connect with Ranae via...

Facebook Twitter Instagram Keep reading for a sample of Officer Next Door, Book 1 in Ranae's Lock and Key Series.

Officer Next Door Lock and Key, #1 How can anyone resist temptation when it's right next door?

Riley County North Carolina has a lot to offer: coastal views as far as the eye can see, and men in uniform who are even more gorgeous. Home to the most notorious prison in the state, Alicia's new hometown is crawling with men who carry their own handcuffs and know how to use them like Officer Liam Alexander, her one and only neighbor. After catching him out of uniform, she can't resist pausing to enjoy the show. When Liam's Southern charm drives him across the property line, life gets hotter than the Carolina summer could possibly account for. Unfortunately, there's a dark side to life in the coastal haven, even with an officer next door.

Coordinating special events at a historic and supposedly haunted plantation is enough to have Alicia questioning her senses and her sanity, but the spirits of the past take a backseat to a pair of escaped convicts who blaze a trail of mayhem across Riley County. Not even the most intense chemistry can survive the perils that make a sunny seaside town a dangerous place to be after dark ... can it?

Chapter 1....

CHAPTER 1.

The rising sun burnt on the Carolina horizon like a jewel, causing the tidal mist to light up like it'd been set on fire. It was the most gorgeous thing Alicia had ever seen, besides her naked neighbor. The sight of him stripping down lit up the morning like nothing else could not even the extra-bold, extra-large cup of coffee she clutched as she stared through her kitchen window.

Everything about him was extra-large, too. She, however, was anything but bold.

She'd die if he knew she'd been watching him like this for the past three weeks, ever since she'd moved in. Guilt surged through her system just like her daily caffeine infusion, but that didn't keep her from enjoying the display, all that taut muscle and bare skin.

Not even close.

"Good Lord," she sighed, to no one but herself. DC seemed faraway already; the big city had disappeared in her rearview mirror weeks ago to be replaced by real Southern heat and charm, two things her new neighbor radiated in spades.

Not that she'd spoken to him much yet.

There'd been the occasional h.e.l.lo when they glimpsed each other outside, usually coming to or from work. That was it, mostly because the sight of him in uniform had a way of leaving her tongue-tied, silenced by the guilty pleasure that struck her every time she looked in his direction. She couldn't so much as glance at him without thinking about that uniform coming off in slow motion, revealing his perfect body.

Maybe it was his fault for not closing the bathroom blinds, the ones that hung over the window directly across from the shower.

Or maybe it was her fault for enjoying the striptease with her morning coffee day after day, saying nothing.

Either way, she wasn't complaining. Close-cropped dark hair, sun-tanned skin stretched over a six foot frame of solid muscle and an a.s.s that appeared to be sculpted from granite, not to mention the amazing view when his back wasn't to her: the vision had been seared into her memory, and it stayed with her even after he slung a towel around his hips and strolled out of the bathroom, disappearing from her view.

That was her cue to gulp down the rest of her coffee and pull herself together before she rushed to the Wisteria Plantation House. She'd been hired there as the special events coordinator, had moved and reshaped her life around the new job, though as she drained her coffee mug, swallowing the bitter grit that swirled at the bottom of the cup, she was so dazzled by what she'd just seen that it was sure to be a challenge just to coordinate her hair and makeup for the day, let alone an outfit.

Despite the s.e.xually-charged fog her neighbor had left her in, she managed to brush on some cosmetic staples, twist her chestnut hair into a simple chignon and shed her robe, pulling on khaki pants and a purple blouse. As she dressed, she pretended that the brush of her own fingertips against her skin didn't inspire imaginings of what it'd be like to feel her neighbor's hands on her body. Lastly, she slipped on sandals, a pair with modest kitten heels that'd allow her to navigate Wisteria's grounds without breaking an ankle.

Or so she thought. When she finally walked out the door with her purse slung over her shoulder and a travel mug in one hand, she tripped over the threshold and was launched forward through the muggy Carolina air.

She windmilled, dropping her handbag but miracle of miracles managing to maintain her grip on her coffee.

The mug was a fancy one that remained sealed until one pressed a b.u.t.ton, freeing the flow of liquid within. As she bent to pick up her purse and then straightened, quickly smoothing her clothing, she realized that the anti-spill mug was the best twenty dollars she'd ever spent.

Heat flooded her cheeks as she said a silent prayer of grat.i.tude for spill-proof technology. Her neighbor was standing on the front porch of his bungalow-style house, a cute place painted a shade of moss-green that blended right into the wooded backdrop. Judging by the way he stared, frowning in her direction, he'd seen everything.

"Are you all right?" His voice echoed across the few yards between them, sounding with a depth that sent a frisson racing down her spine.

"Yes," she called back, forcing herself to move, to descend the little flight of stairs that led down from her house, also bungalow-styled, but painted a fresh shade of blue that would've been invisible against a clear afternoon sky, had the towering pines not blocked out that particular view.

"You sure? You're limping."

Limping or not, she couldn't stop staring. No longer naked, he was now just the opposite: covered from neck to toe in meticulously-ironed dark blue and black, his uniform gleaming here and there with flashes of metal the silver shine of handcuffs and the badge he wore at his hip.

There was just something about all that silver, giving her an excuse to let her gaze rove over his groin, sparking vivid memories and scorching heat.

Which brought up another thing: sometimes, during her little spying sessions, he was hard.

Whenever he got into the shower that way and stepped out minutes later cleaner and clearly softer, her mind went wild with visions of how he might've spent those ten minutes behind the shower curtain.