Page 16 of His Kidnapped Queen
“I saw you,” she says, and I freeze, muscles stiffening. I don’t move my lips from the base of her throat, though.
“Mmm?” I murmur against her skin. She shivers, goosebumps popping up along her flesh.
“In the lobby. At the precinct. You saw me, too.”
“I did,” I admit.
I’d seen her at the bar, worried for a minute that she was with her partner in more ways than one. But then his boyfriend showed up, and something released in me. Something seemed to soften.
I couldn’t stop myself from approaching her. I blame that fucking red dress, the one that barely stretched across her ass.
I didn’t want anyone else seeing her in it, and that scared me a little.
But I’m territorial. Always have been. It doesn’t mean anything.
Does it?
“Did you recognize me?” she asks.
“Of course I did. You’re not an easy woman to forget.”
“So you know I’m a cop.”
“Figured,” I drawl. “Given the uniform and everything.”
She huffs out a breath, blowing her side bangs out of her face. “And you’re…”
I don’t supply her with an answer. “I was helping a friend.”
“By turning him in?”
I shrug. “Might get him clean.”
“Did it?” she asks, looking up at me, and I smile down at her.
“It did. For now.”
She nods slowly. “It can be hard. My dad used to do drugs, back when he was young.”
“Yeah?” I nose against her neck. “What kind?”
She shrugs. “I dunno. He never told me, but he always worked so I assume uppers.”
I nod, kissing her temple. “Pretty sure my dad has done uppers his whole life.”
“Is he older?”
“Sixty-six,” I admit. It’s the most I’ve talked about my father in years, so I’m not surprised when I stiffen, my expression shuttering.
She notes the body language. She’s a smart little pixie, I’ll give her that.
“My dad is only fifty-five.”
“You’re young,” I say easily. She’s probably twenty years my junior, which is not usually my type at all.
“Not that young.” She sticks her chin up, looking ever more like a pixie.
I chuckle, kissing the tip of her nose. “Be quiet and get some rest.”
