from the bed. He should have stayed. At least he could have found the sweet haven of her body once more before it all backfired in his face. Now he was going to have to figure out what the hell was going on here. Whittaker must be running real damned scared if he was letting a woman on the force in the hopes of distracting Jackson. Which to a point, Jackson admitted, was working.
Dammit all to hell. This was a complication he just didn’t need. And to make it worse, he had hurt her. He had seen the flash of hurt and disillusionment in her eyes when he had accused her of fucking the mayor. He grimaced, irritated with the surging jealousy that had washed over him while he was on the phone with Whittaker. Damned bastard carrying on about how pretty little Rebecca Taylor had grown up and was all woman now. His snide, insinuating voice as slimy as eel’s skin as he touted Rebecca’s obvious charms. Furious jealousy had spread through Jackson like a sickness he couldn’t combat.
And it wasn’t like he hadn’t known better. Jackson was well aware of where Rebecca had spent last night. She was in his arms, milking his cock like a fist every time he pushed it in her. Yet Whittaker, for reasons Jackson couldn’t explain, had insinuated that she had been otherwise entertained. And not ten minutes after getting off the phone with the bastard, fury still roaring like a live beast through his body, Rebecca had walked in.
33
Lora Leigh and Veronica Chadwick
His luck sucked. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about sucking. But he couldn’t help imagining that hot little mouth wrapped around him, her breathy moans vibrating against his cock. He didn’t think he could stand it. The whole time she had stood before him, her expression stiff and unyielding, he had wanted to throw her across his desk and rip those damned clothes off her body.
He groaned. He was miserable. He had been looking forward to leaving work later in the day, swinging by her house, seeing if there wasn’t more to be found than just the hot sex they’d discovered last night.
His eyes widened. He hadn’t used a condom. Son of a bitch. He sat up straight, his hands gripping the armrests of the large padded chair as he swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. The threat of STD’s didn’t bother him. He had the printout of her latest blood tests, her overall health check, lying on his desk. She was clean. He was clean. But protection; he had pumped his seed into her body more than once. He breathed out hard. Damn, he hadn’t even thought to use a condom.
He ran his hands through his hair, his lips pursing at the thought. She hadn’t said anything, but that didn’t mean squat. That little spitfire would have kept her mouth shut if it was killing her. Plain fury, unadulterated, had washed through her the whole time she stood in his office. Not that he blamed her. Hell, he hadn’t gone easy on her.
“Hey, boss,” Bryan Matthews called through the door, knocking sharply at the frosted glass.
“Yeah.” Jackson sat back in his chair, wondering at the hesitancy in the kid’s voice.
Bryan was twenty-one, fresh out of the academy, and still a little wet behind the ears, but a good kid.
Jackson watched as the younger man shifted nervously, his blue eyes looking at everything but Jackson.
“Umm, no one will ride with her.” Bryan closed the door behind him.
It took a minute for Jackson to assure himself that he had heard correctly.
“What?” Jackson asked him, his voice controlled. Dammit.
Bryan’s blue eyes met his nervously.
“They won’t ride with her, Jackson. Roby and Martin headed out, sayin’ no woman was ridin’ with them. That just leaves me. I don’t care if she rides with me.”
Bryan shifted, nervous, on the edge of excitement at the thought. Great. Miss Ree-Becca Taylor had another conquest. Damn, if she wasn’t sure picky about that name.
But that didn’t alleviate his concern where Roby and Martin were
Dammit all to hell. This was a complication he just didn’t need. And to make it worse, he had hurt her. He had seen the flash of hurt and disillusionment in her eyes when he had accused her of fucking the mayor. He grimaced, irritated with the surging jealousy that had washed over him while he was on the phone with Whittaker. Damned bastard carrying on about how pretty little Rebecca Taylor had grown up and was all woman now. His snide, insinuating voice as slimy as eel’s skin as he touted Rebecca’s obvious charms. Furious jealousy had spread through Jackson like a sickness he couldn’t combat.
And it wasn’t like he hadn’t known better. Jackson was well aware of where Rebecca had spent last night. She was in his arms, milking his cock like a fist every time he pushed it in her. Yet Whittaker, for reasons Jackson couldn’t explain, had insinuated that she had been otherwise entertained. And not ten minutes after getting off the phone with the bastard, fury still roaring like a live beast through his body, Rebecca had walked in.
33
Lora Leigh and Veronica Chadwick
His luck sucked. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about sucking. But he couldn’t help imagining that hot little mouth wrapped around him, her breathy moans vibrating against his cock. He didn’t think he could stand it. The whole time she had stood before him, her expression stiff and unyielding, he had wanted to throw her across his desk and rip those damned clothes off her body.
He groaned. He was miserable. He had been looking forward to leaving work later in the day, swinging by her house, seeing if there wasn’t more to be found than just the hot sex they’d discovered last night.
His eyes widened. He hadn’t used a condom. Son of a bitch. He sat up straight, his hands gripping the armrests of the large padded chair as he swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. The threat of STD’s didn’t bother him. He had the printout of her latest blood tests, her overall health check, lying on his desk. She was clean. He was clean. But protection; he had pumped his seed into her body more than once. He breathed out hard. Damn, he hadn’t even thought to use a condom.
He ran his hands through his hair, his lips pursing at the thought. She hadn’t said anything, but that didn’t mean squat. That little spitfire would have kept her mouth shut if it was killing her. Plain fury, unadulterated, had washed through her the whole time she stood in his office. Not that he blamed her. Hell, he hadn’t gone easy on her.
“Hey, boss,” Bryan Matthews called through the door, knocking sharply at the frosted glass.
“Yeah.” Jackson sat back in his chair, wondering at the hesitancy in the kid’s voice.
Bryan was twenty-one, fresh out of the academy, and still a little wet behind the ears, but a good kid.
Jackson watched as the younger man shifted nervously, his blue eyes looking at everything but Jackson.
“Umm, no one will ride with her.” Bryan closed the door behind him.
It took a minute for Jackson to assure himself that he had heard correctly.
“What?” Jackson asked him, his voice controlled. Dammit.
Bryan’s blue eyes met his nervously.
“They won’t ride with her, Jackson. Roby and Martin headed out, sayin’ no woman was ridin’ with them. That just leaves me. I don’t care if she rides with me.”
Bryan shifted, nervous, on the edge of excitement at the thought. Great. Miss Ree-Becca Taylor had another conquest. Damn, if she wasn’t sure picky about that name.
But that didn’t alleviate his concern where Roby and Martin were
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