Read Keeper of the Alphas - Complete for Free Online Page B

though suddenly privy to some juicy gossip.
    “Am not,” he said, equally coy.
    “Show it to me.”
    “What?”
    “Your-fucking-badge what.”
    He dug into his pocket, plucked out his wallet, and flashed it at her briefly before flipping it shut again.
    “Show me again.”
    “I just did.” He flashed it again for a millisecond.
    “Stop,” she laughed and grabbed at it. “Gimme.”
    After a short struggle, she yanked it from his hands. When she’d walked into the bar, she’d felt sexy, exotic, a worldly, accomplished outsider. Within minutes of reuniting with Jayce, she’d somehow reverted into a giggly, playful fifteen-year-old girl. She flipped the wallet opened and frowned.
    “This isn’t a badge. What is this?”
    “It’s a permit. I’m still training.”
    “Do you carry a gun at least?”
    He shook his head and sipped his drink. “I’m a pacifist.”
    “I think you’re going into the wrong field, my friend.”
    “Cops, by definition, are keepers of the peace.”
    “Yeah, with clubs and pepper spray.” She tossed the wallet back at him. “That’s anticlimatic.”
    “You calling me an anticlimax?”
    “Yeah. You’re that feeling when you get really close to an orgasm and then the batteries run out.”
    He smiled at that. “I’m a good fuck.”
    She sized him up with her eyes. “Prove it.”
    Jayce’s eyebrows shot up with surprise. There was some satisfaction in throwing the cocky man so clearly off guard. “What?”
    “We’re not fifteen anymore,” she said, stirring her drink with her straw before wrapping her lips back around it.
    “Maybe I am,” he responded, though his eyes never left hers.
    “You got handcuffs?” she asked.
    “I’ve got handcuffs.”
     
    They didn’t make it to his place. A couple hours and about five drinks later, they tumbled into the back seat of his Camaro, mouths locked together, limbs tangling. The alcohol made her bold and she pried his teeth apart with her tongue, tasting him. He fell into her kiss easily and moaned into her mouth; she felt his hands clasp over her wrists, pinning them down against the car. There wasn’t a lot of room to stretch out, so her legs wrapped around his hips.
    Though she’d never kissed him before, he tasted familiar , somehow. Underneath the sappy gin and cinnamon spice cologne, there was the boy she grew up with. Her trailer park boy: a metallic nighttime musk, dry autumnal leaves, and pipe smoke. She felt his breath at her lips and his need pressed hard against her stomach. She sealed the kiss and, when he dove in for another, tilted her head out of reach with a giggle.
    He snorted a laugh. “We’re playing that game, huh?”
    “Mmhm,” she nodded, still smiling.
    “Two can play,” he said and tilted in to kiss her neck. She felt his teeth and gasped with surprise, her fingers tightening around his for something to hold on to. She felt safe underneath him, warm and excited all at once, the thrill of fucking a stranger without him being a complete stranger. He pried a hand free of hers to slip down her shoulder straps and peeled back the low cut of her dress, exposing one of her breasts. He covered it with his mouth, his tongue swirling in a way that shot straight through her and made her whimper. Her reaction drew a grunt from the back of his throat and she felt his hips jerk against hers; he was strong, hard, all for her, and it poured gasoline on the flames of her excitement.
    Her head spun—partially from his lips, partially from the sweet margarita—and she slipped her fingers through his short, soft hair. Jayce . She and Jayce were making out in the back of his car like a couple of teenagers.
    Jayce pulled her nipple under his teeth and the tug felt connected to her clit, which pulsed in response. He was good. Really good. Too good. Had he done this before? How often? She thought of Seth, suddenly. Back in New York, curled up with his whore du jour . And then Jayce. And then Jayce and Seth,