Protecting What's Theirs (Line of Duty, #1.5)(4)

He’d need to distance himself, he realized. The decision ate him alive, but it couldn’t be helped. He had a responsibility to the fallen officer and needed to see it through.

Focus on the case. Plan it down to the smallest detail, take the f*ckers down, and get back to your woman.

He brushed his thumb over the photograph again.

Try to understand, baby.





Chapter Three


Ginger rose from her kneeling position, intending to retrieve the furniture lacquer from under the sink, then froze. She frowned down at the decoupage nightstand she’d spent the afternoon decorating with magazine cutouts so they formed a cohesive collage. With the 9 to 5 soundtrack blasting from the stereo, she’d lost herself in the supposed Halloween design she’d been planning on displaying this week in her shop, leading up to the holiday.

Instead? Pink. Baby. Shit. Everywhere.

At this rate, she wouldn’t need to drop the baby bombshell on Derek. He’d take one look at her latest creation and know she was in the family way within seconds. She wouldn’t have the chance to prepare him carefully, like she’d planned. Or to stuff him full of her famous chicken potpie first. Her nervous gaze flew to the clock. Derek would be home any minute. With a muffled curse, she gripped the edge of the nightstand and dragged it into the nearest closet, slamming the door shut just as Derek entered the apartment.

Ginger took a moment to adjust her bra, tugging down the snug material of her tank top while she was at it. No sense in letting a perfectly good cleavage day go to waste, right? If it made her feel slightly better going into the big reveal with a fully loaded arsenal, well, she wasn’t harming a fly, was she?

She turned and cocked her hip, knowing her white cotton skirt would slide up her thigh with the action. Heaven help the man, he loved her thighs. “Hey, darlin’.”

Loosening his tie, he watched her closely. “Ginger.”

His deep voice traveled across the room to massage her senses. Fire licked in her belly, her loins, her breasts. He did it all to her with a single word. A year ago, when she’d moved in next door to Derek, this intense chemical reaction had alarmed her. Made her feel out of control. Needy. Powerless. Now, she knew better. She held just as much power as Derek. But Lord, did they wield that power in different ways.

Still observing her through heavy-lidded eyes across the room, he began rolling up his sleeves to reveal brawny forearms. Slowly. With intention. Her chest shuddered on a deep breath, pulse kicking up ten notches. Feet rooted to the floor, she could only watch and wait to determine his purpose. Not having seen him in nearly two days, she used the time to drink him in, appreciate the breathtaking man she shared a bed with. Derek managed to look at home in his suit, although she knew from experience he owned whatever he wore. Confident and sensual one minute. Challenging and ruthless the next. She’d once likened him to a barroom brawler, all cut muscles and harsh angles. A body she never got tired of tracing with her fingers, her tongue.

He regarded her steadily from behind green eyes, his demeanor casual. However, with his dark brown hair slightly mussed, she knew better. He had a habit of losing his patience with it when he wanted something. Usually her. The undercurrent of lust had already reached her, enfolding her to drag under its surface. It never took a day off. She couldn’t escape the connection between them and didn’t want to.

When he’d finished his appraisal, Derek rounded the couch and came toward her, each step purposeful. Already panting with need, Ginger let him walk her backward until her body made contact with the hard wall of the living room. His masculine scent, mixed with a hint of leather and coffee, caused her body to ready, recognizing its mate. She welcomed the warm, damp sensation between her thighs, knowing her readiness would please him. Derek braced his hands above her on the wall, but didn’t make contact with her body. She wanted to sob a protest and pull him closer, but knew better than to push. Much as it pained her keeping quiet, patience always paid off with Derek.

He let his head drop down so he could speak, very precisely, near her ear. “Take my cock out.”

This time she couldn’t contain a whimper of anticipation. With shaky hands, Ginger quickly undid his belt buckle, movements slightly clumsy under his watchful gaze. His button and zipper came next. She could feel his weighty erection pressing against his boxer briefs. Unable to help herself, she took a moment to squeeze him, run her thumb up the sensitive underside.

“I didn’t give you permission for that.” His eyes were closed, a telling sign that despite his harsh words, her touch had certainly affected him. Then they snapped open, harder than before. “Reach inside, wrap me in your hand, and take me. The f*ck. Out.”

“Yes, Derek,” she breathed, slipping her hand under the waistband of his briefs. “Since you asked so nicely.” She tugged his underwear down his hips with the other. Before she could make contact with his thick arousal, Derek snagged her wrist, brought it to his mouth and licked her palm, provocative and slow, then released her. They both groaned into the silent apartment when she fisted his erection with her newly dampened hand. Whatever game he was playing, Ginger was a willing participant. The young woman she’d been when they met would have taken offense to being ordered around. This Ginger, she gloried in the part of her man that craved control. After all, at that moment, she held the concentration of that power right in her hand. Without her, his power didn’t exist.