Pulse (Collide, #2)(58)
“I think about the way we f*ck until our bodies are dripping with sweat and we can’t take anymore.” Gavin groaned, his senses drowning in the feel of her wetness coating his fingers. “I think about the way your hot * feels around me as you beg me to take you harder. The way your body shudders like a f*cking leaf when you come for me. “
“Oh my God,” Emily moaned, her need to pull over and ravish him escalating with each stroke he pushed inside of her. He circled his thumb over her clit, heightening that need beyond any control she had left. Mind made up, Emily eased off the gas. Before she could seek out a spot, any damn spot, her gaze caught the blazing red and blue lights of a highway patrol car pushing up her ass.
“Gavin!” she wailed, her nerves shot and her body a tumbling mess. “I’m getting pulled over!”
Gavin barked out a laugh and eased his hand from her sweatpants. “That’s my speeding vixen,” he said as if unaffected by the situation. He licked his fingers, adjusted his seat, and smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll just let them know what I was doing to you. I’m sure they’ll understand.”
Mouth agape, Emily shook her head, trying with all her might to calm her heated body. She reared off onto the shoulder, her attempt to calm down in vain, because she was shaking uncontrollably. Sure, some of it had to do with the not one but two towering state troopers flanking either side of the vehicle, but more of it had to do with her aching desire for release. Eyes wide and body pulsing with what she was sure was pure unleashed torture, Emily reached for the purse she never brought. “Holy shit! I don’t have my license with me!”
“Emily, calm down.” Gavin lifted his ass, pulling his wallet from his jeans pocket. “Relax, baby, really.”
“You’re telling me to relax?” she questioned, her words clipped. “I was doing ninety, and I don’t have my license. They’re going to haul me off to jail.”
Gavin popped a smirk, sliding out his ID. “One: You were doing a hundred and ten if you want to get technical. Two: They’re not hauling you off anywhere. Three: I just had the sweetest f*cking vision of you wearing a black and white prison jumpsuit. You were even wearing the little cap on your head. Mmm, simply beautiful.”
“You need help,” Emily whispered as the two officers approached, their hands resting on the pistols tucked in their holsters. She swallowed, smeared a smile across her face, and glanced up at the officer on her side of the vehicle. “Hello, sir.”
Eyes shielded by dark sunglasses, the older gentleman pressed his mouth into a hard line before he spoke. “License, registration, and insurance.”
With a smartass smirk brighter than she ever witnessed, Emily watched Gavin reach into the glove compartment and pull out the necessary documents. Handing them to her, he shot her a wink.
She rolled her eyes and looked at the officer peering down at her. “Um, I don’t have my license with me. I’m visiting from New York, and we left my sister’s house in a rush. I forgot to bring my purse.”
After examining the information she gave him, he slid his glasses from his face. “Is there a reason you thought it was okay to do 111 miles per hour on the freeway?”
“That’s my fault, officer,” Gavin piped up, inclining his body toward the driver’s side window. “I told her I was in dire, excruciating pain and needed to be examined by a nurse.” Gavin cleared his throat. “I mean a doctor. But I’m happy to say I’m feeling better now.”
With a suspicious eye, the trooper glared at Gavin for a long second. “I need your social so I can run a check for a license,” he said, looking back to Emily.
She gave him the digits and nervously glanced in the rearview mirror as he walked to the patrol car.
Still standing on the passenger side, the younger trooper leaned in the window. “So you’re a Yankees fan?” he asked, his eyes pinned on Emily. “I’m from the Bronx. Nothing beats a Yanks game at home.”
“I’m not a Yankees fan, but my boyfriend is,” she answered, shifting in her seat. The small talk soothed her nerves slightly.
The trooper furrowed his brows. “You’re not? Your plates say otherwise.”
Now Emily furrowed her brows as she looked to Gavin. “And what would my plates say, Gavin?”
Smile full-toothed and wide, Gavin cupped the back of her neck. “Ah. You must’ve missed that while we were in the garage.” He chuckled, running his fingers through her hair. “I had them shortened up to say ‘New York Yankees Lover.’ Emblem and all. I have to admit, they look pretty cool.”
Palming her cheek, Emily looked down and laughed. “A living, breathing, walking wiseass.”
“You left out shmexy,” Gavin clipped.
Before Emily could toss him her own wiseass remark, the older officer returned. “Okay. Your New York license checked out. I need to issue you a correctable violation for not having it with you, though. Just bring the ticket and your license to any station in the San Diego area, and it should get dismissed. Sign your name by the X.” Emily nodded, and he handed her a white slip. After scribbling her name on it, she gave it back. He ripped the yellow carbon copy off from underneath, once again repeating the process of paper exchanging.
“Seeing you look like a nice girl and I don’t want to do the paper work, I’m not going to arrest you. Which I could, considering how fast you were driving. But you’re getting a speeding ticket for doing forty-six miles per hour over the posted speed limit. It could carry a fine up to $1,000 and a possible thirty-day suspension of your license.” The trooper paused, hunched over, and looked into the car. Though his glare was aimed at Gavin, his statement was directed at Emily. “I suggest you rethink your speed the next time the gentleman next to you tells you he’s sick.”