Protecting What's His (Line of Duty #1)(24)

“You like that, beautiful girl?” When she whimpered, he leaned over and spoke directly into her ear. “Good. That was for the hard-on I’ll be walking around with tonight. And you’ll goddamn wear the imprint of my hand on your ass for it.”

His arrogant statement brought Ginger out of her momentary state of shock. She pushed away from the counter, forcing him off of her. The blatant hunger on his face gave her pause. His cheekbones were flushed red, his fists clenched at his sides as if he struggled not to reach for her.

“If you bend over, even slightly, in that dress while we’re out tonight, I will spank your beautiful ass again in front of everyone present. Do you understand me, Ginger?”

She yanked the dress back into place over her still-stinging backside. “Go ahead. It still wouldn’t be the worst date I ever had.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t test me on this. I’m already less than thrilled about bringing you out in public looking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a walking wet dream.”

Her mouth opened and closed. To hide her shock, she turned and snatched her clutch and shawl off the counter. “I’m not changing, so deal with it.”

“I just did.”

“You’re an arrogant jackass, you know that?”

He nodded. “Let’s go. We’re running late thanks to you.”





Chapter Eleven


Derek took Ginger’s shawl and handed it to the coat-check attendant, grimacing when the black dress revealed itself once more. It was going to be one bitch of a long night.

The black, silky material displayed every curve and nuance of her body to perfection, exposing just the right amount of cleavage to keep a man watching and begging for her to lean forward a little too far. Her skin glowed against the dark material of the dress, making his hands itch to touch.

How could he have been so close earlier and not tasted her?

An irritated sound drew his attention back to Ginger’s stunning face to reveal those plump lips pressed together in displeasure. “I don’t care if I’m wearing four-inch heels, I will walk home if you’re determined to frown at me all night, Derek.”

God, she’d just had to remind him of the damn shoes. Each of her legs looked a mile long in them. He wanted to rip off the dress and wrap those legs around his waist.

He needed to get a hold of himself. The fact that she’d still agreed to come with him tonight after his earlier behavior blew his mind. He’d spanked her. Hard. Something he’d wanted to do since that night on the roof, but never dreamed he’d act on. In every one of his fantasies about Ginger, permission was never required, but this hadn’t been a fantasy and he’d acted on impulse. Seeing her walk out in that dress nearly brought him to his knees, but her lack of panties had pushed him hurtling over the edge.

For as long as Derek lived, he would never forget the vision of Ginger bent over his kitchen counter to receive her spanking. She’d been the perfect combination of defiant and vulnerable. He could still hear the slap of his hand against her bare flesh ringing in his head.

Every day, the need within him grew greater, more painful. His actions tonight proved just how little restraint he had left. The fact that she didn’t reprimand him for his actions, and in fact enjoyed if not craved his ministrations, only made him want to push her further.

Even now, as the young coat-check attendant’s eyes roamed over Ginger, Derek had to resist the compulsion to haul her over his shoulder and take her home.

Which certainly wouldn’t earn him any points with the woman in question.

Get your shit together, Tyler.

He composed his features and offered Ginger his arm. “Come on. Let’s see if we can hunt you up some of that cheap red wine you’re so fond of.”

“Oh no, Lieutenant. Tonight I’m drinking the good stuff.”

Derek led Ginger through the gilded double doors leading into the banquet hall, and immediately spotted a group of homicide detectives from his station. Wanting to avoid that mess for as long as possible, he steered Ginger in the opposite direction, toward the bar, where he ordered her a glass of wine and a whiskey for himself. Since he’d be driving, he’d only allow himself the one drink. If he was spending the evening with Ginger, he’d damn well need it.

Soft music drifted through the room. Big band combined with the healthy dose of Sinatra required at all political events. One end of the room held a candlelit dining area with thirty-odd tables, a stage, and a podium located toward the front. A currently half-empty dance floor took up the other half of the room. Uniformed servers in black and white rushed through the packed cocktail and dining area offering champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres to guests.

Derek spotted the mayor and several prominent councilmen rubbing elbows with local law enforcement and shook his head, wondering how many of them were on one another’s payroll. Since making lieutenant two years ago, he’d been approached several times and propositioned about dropping charges for a friend of a friend, or looking the other way when the governor’s son was present at the scene of a crime, but Derek refused to compromise himself to retain his position. Small favors often turned into full-time obligations, and he had no ambitions of being a political lackey.

He looked down at Ginger, who sipped her wine and observed the room through wide eyes. It felt wrong, bringing her to this place where criminals posed as saviors to the city. Although she’d undoubtedly come across her share of unsavory characters in her past, here they posed as something else entirely. Once again, Derek tamped down the need to whisk her home, away from this place. Where he could have her to himself.