Protecting What's His (Line of Duty #1)(23)

And stopped cold.

Ginger panicked, unable to judge from his expression whether he approved of her attire or not. He looked utterly perfect in his tuxedo. Sophisticated. Someone accustomed to big-city standards. He wore the garment like a second skin, every movement masculine and fluid. The five o’clock shadow darkening his jaw and the lack of sleep evident on his face saved him from being completely intimidating, but she couldn’t help a shiver of apprehension upon seeing him dressed this way. He looked ready to command a room. Or her. Goose bumps broke out along her arms.

Damned if she was going to let him know how he affected her.

Placing a hand on her hip, Ginger tossed her hair over her shoulder and stood her ground, letting him look his fill. And he did. Sharp, green eyes tracked upward from her thighs, over her hips to her breasts.

He crooked a finger at her. “Come here.” His voice sounded raw and uneven.

Refusing to be intimidated, Ginger crossed the living room to where Derek stood unmoving in the kitchen. She could swear his eyes darkened as she got closer.

“You’re late.”

“And you’re f*cking gorgeous.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Tearing her eyes away from his voracious gaze, she set her shawl and clutch down on the counter. “Thank you, Lieutenant. You look nice, too. Doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re late.”

“I’m sorry. You should never have to wait for anyone.” Derek came up behind where she’d leaned a hip against the counter. His breath feathered over her bare shoulder, moving a few strands of her hair against her neck. “What color are your panties?”

“Excuse me?” Her voice sounded thin to her own ears.

“You heard me.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat. “Why?”

“Baby, if I’m going to take you into a room full of men wearing that dress, I’m damn well going to be the only one who knows the color of your panties.”

A rush of liquid heat moved through her, settling between her legs. His voice alone could do that to her. The deep, thick quality of it stroked over her body the way she now knew his hands would. Part of Ginger wanted to continue chastising him for his lateness to dissipate the lust clouding the air around them. The rest of her yearned for whatever he had planned for her.

He stood so incredibly close without touching her. Even so, she felt like his hands were moving all over her body. His proximity combined with his coffee-and-leather scent made her flesh tingle. Her breathing accelerated with every second that passed and he still didn’t touch her.

“Not going to answer? Okay.” Finally, his skin made contact with hers and Ginger’s breath shuddered out. They stood flush, his front to her back, his breath warming the skin of her neck. “Place your hands flat on the counter.”

What? Why won’t he just kiss me? Confused by his request, she remained mostly still save the breaths causing her chest to rise and fall rapidly. Her breasts swelled against the top of her dress with each panting breath, begging for Derek’s hands to touch them.

“Do as you’re told.”

Ginger’s arousal outweighed the flicker of annoyance brought on by Derek’s command, so she gently placed her palms facedown on the cold surface of the kitchen counter, leaving her slightly bent over at the waist. Unable to see Derek, she could only sense him moving behind her.

Suddenly, her feet were kicked wider by Derek’s dress shoe, and the already-exposed position she stood in became twice as vulnerable. Ginger made a surprised sound at his roughness, but forced herself to remain the way he’d posed her. She tried to imagine what Derek saw from behind, bent over the counter as she stood with her legs spread shoulder-width apart. She could hear his harsh breathing and imagined him sizing her up. Deciding what to do next. The anticipation dried her mouth.

His hands moved up the sides of her thighs to the hem of her dress, massaging as they went. Then he lifted her skirt, sliding the silky material up the tops of her legs and over her ass. He made a strangled sound, then a long stretch of silence passed, the only sound in the room their heavy breathing.

“No panties, Ginger?”

She closed her eyes, savoring the tortured quality to his voice. “I can’t wear any with this dress. The outline would be noticeable.”

“I see.”

Derek’s hand came down hard on her exposed backside, jarring her stomach against the edge of the counter. The slap of his large palm against her bare flesh echoed through the room.

“Oh!”

Shocked by the sudden sting, it took Ginger a few seconds to realize he’d spanked her. She wasn’t given time to think any further because he did it again. And again. He spanked her five times, each time harder than the last until her bottom smarted painfully.

Despite the burn each slap earned her, Ginger couldn’t help wishing him to continue, despite her warring emotions. His punishing slaps heightened her senses, making her aware of every breath leaving her lungs, every groan escaping Derek’s throat. Warmth pooled low in her belly and spread to her legs until they felt like jelly. Her thighs shook with the need to press together, but his foot, inserted firmly between her high heels, prevented it. She was unnerved by her reaction. She was excited by it.

The fifth time Derek’s palm connected with her flesh, she found herself pushing higher on her toes, presenting herself to him. Asking for it. Sensations and emotions clouded her brain. She tried to straighten, to make sense of the heat coiling low in her belly, but he placed a hand firmly on her back, keeping her bent over the counter.