Cuff Me(76)

Jill pursed her lips. “Are you sure—”

He moved closer, pinning her to the counter with his weight. “Shall I get the log?”

Jill ran a finger along the V-neck of his shirt. “Maybe we retire the old take-turns-cuffing thing. I mean, it’s a little childish—”

His eyes narrowed. “It’s the best part of our job, and you know it.”

Jill took a sip of her champagne. He was right. It was the best part of their job. There was something so satisfying about the click of the cuffs when you knew you had the right guy.

“What if I told you I forgot?” she said, lifting her eyes to his. “It’s been a while, after all. I’ve been on sabbatical.”

“I’d believe you, baby,” he said. His voice was calm. Lulling. Dangerous.

“You would?”

“Mmm hmm.” He moved even closer, slowly pulling the champagne flute out of her hand and setting it aside behind her. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you were out of turn, Henley.”

Jill was finding it harder and harder to concentrate with his warmth pressed against her, his big arms caging her in, his mouth so damn close—

So addled was her brain with lust that even when his hands found her hips, turning her around to face the counter with the perfect amount of roughness and gentleness, she didn’t realize his intention.

So full of want was every cell in her body as he gently raked his teeth over her neck, that she didn’t quite comprehend that he’d maneuvered her hands behind her back.

Not until the unfamiliar feel of cold metal against her wrists, followed by the very familiar sound of a soft click, did Jill realize what had just happened…

Her partner had just cuffed her.

She tried to whirl around, but he caught her waist with a gentle scolding noise, then pressed against her, molding his chest to her back.

“Vin—”

His hands ran up her sides, then back down until they rested on her hips.

“Yes, detective?” he said roughly against her ear.

She twisted her wrists futilely. “Let me go.”

“Maybe next time you’ll think about the consequences of your actions,” he said, sliding a hand around to press a hand against her stomach and pulling her more firmly against him.

“My actions—ahh.” She broke off when he started kissing her neck.

“What was that?” he asked, his lips never breaking contact with her skin.

She tried once more to turn, but his grip tightened.

“Don’t. Move,” he growled.

Jill tried not to move. She did. But when his hands ran up over the front of her breasts, palms teasing her, she arched, wanting more.

His fingers slowly undid the buttons of her blouse, his mouth never stopping its hot teasing of her neck.

Vin flicked open the front clasp of her bra, shoving both that and her shirt roughly to the sides before putting his hands on her.

Jill’s own hands jerked against the handcuffs as his fingers found her nipples, tweaking her in just the right way to find that exquisite place between pain and pleasure.

By the time his hands moved down to her skirt, his fingers pulling the fabric upward, inch by slow inch, Jill was panting.

“If I say sorry, do I get these off now?” she asked.

In response, he placed a hand on her back, pushing her gently but firmly forward so she was bent over the counter.

He slid down the back of her body until he was crouched behind her, roughly pushing her skirt the rest of the way up over her hips.

Jill squeezed her eyes shut, torn between embarrassment and arousal. Then arousal won over, because his fingers hooked into her panties, yanking them down so she was completely exposed.

“Shall I read you your rights, Henley?” His breath was hot on her skin, his fingers dragging slowly along her inner thighs.

“Wha—what?” She was definitely panting now.

He pushed her thighs wider apart. “You have the right to remain silent…”

Vincent slid his hand upward, one finger sliding slightly into her.

Jill moaned.

“Apparently you’re forgoing that right,” he said, his teeth nipping at her left butt cheek as his fingers continued to play with her.

“Vin, you—”

“Careful, baby. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

He eased his finger all the way inside her then, his other hand sliding around to her front to rub her in slow, torturous circles.

“You’re a bastard,” she said, pressing her cheek against the cool surface of the counter, even as the place between her legs grew wetter, hotter.

“Yeah? Tell it to your attorney. Because you have a right to talk to a lawyer—” He broke off at Jill’s cry of pleasure as he slid another finger inside her.

Vincent was still in control, but he was unraveling fast. She could hear it in his breath. Feel it in the way his hands were shifting from teasing to greedy.

She parted her legs as far as she could with her panties still around her ankles, silently encouraging him to continue his wicked touch.

His forefinger centered on her core, rubbing in tight, perfect circles, and Jill’s entire body tensed—begging for release.

Release he didn’t give her.

He withdrew his hands, standing behind her. Jill heard the clank of his belt buckle, the rasp of his zipper.