The Feel Good Factor(55)

“Mmm,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I groan as I rock into her, moving slowly, taking my time. I go deeper, and with each lingering thrust, she moans and whimpers, sounds that pull me further into her orbit. That tug on my heart. Every noise of pleasure makes me want to get closer to her in every way.

She lifts up her knees, moving her legs higher, letting me go deeper into her. So deep, so far, so intense.

“God, it’s so good with you,” she murmurs against my neck.

“So fucking good.”

She nibbles on my ear, her breath sweet against my skin. “It’s never felt like this.”

I shudder. “I know. Not with anyone.”

And it hasn’t. I’ve never felt this way, this wild, intense connection. As I move in her, bringing her closer, looking into her eyes, that connection crackles like electricity. I know she has to feel it too.

The way she stares at me with such trust, with something that damn near feels like love, almost makes me say something.

I bite my tongue.

“You’re so quiet tonight,” she whispers as I swivel my hips and rock into her.

“I just like looking at you.”

“I like it too.”

I stare into her eyes, overcome, overwhelmed, until the physical becomes too intense and pulls me under its crashing, pulsing wave.

We reach the finish together.

And all I know is that I don’t want this to end. Because I’m in love with her, even though it’s scary as hell. Even though I don’t want to get hurt. Even though I didn’t come looking for this.

The worst part is I don’t think anything will come of all these emotions swelling inside me, because in love is where she doesn’t want me to be.





30





Perri





As my Thursday shift draws to a close, I head to the break room, log in to the online entry for the kissing contest, and tap the button for our category.

As I snag a Diet Coke from the vending machine, I hit submit on my phone. Jansen strolls past, heading to the coffeepot. “Most passionate?”

Damn, he has eagle eyes. Good thing I wasn’t looking at anything private. It’s an even better thing I placed my lingerie order at home last night.

I tuck my phone into my back pocket and grab the can, cracking it open, acting as nonchalant as I can be. “That’s the plan.”

I hope my response comes out casual, but I can hear the hint of embarrassment in my voice. I don’t want to discuss kissing with my boss. More specifically, I don’t want to discuss passionate kissing with the man who signs my paychecks. Talking about entering the contest when it was a mere idea was one thing. Now it’s a reality, and it feels weird.

I shrug and take a sip. “Seemed like an easy one.”

“Is it?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Seems like it’d require a lot of practice.”

A blush creeps across my cheeks. I swallow roughly as I try to fashion an answer. Am I supposed to say, Hey, don’t worry, I’ve been spending my nights practicing? Or wait till you see how jiggy we can get? Did I cross some strange line by entering the contest at all, or by entering in that category?

“Should I switch to something else? Maybe sweet?”

“Hell no. Theresa and I don’t need that kind of competition. I’m just impressed you entered in most passionate.”

“I could change to another category?” I offer, but the question, and asking it again, comes across as meek. I want to kick myself for asking it. I sound wishy-washy. I don’t sound like someone who’s tough on criminals.

He smiles, the teddy-bear grin that he’s known for. “Just giving you a hard time, Keating. You know I think it’s great that you’re doing this.” He grabs his cup of coffee and leaves.

I down a thirsty gulp of Diet Coke, wishing it would calm my nerves.

It doesn’t, and I’m honestly not sure why I feel any nerves. Except I can’t help but worry that I’ve overstepped somewhere, somehow.

I return to my patrol, walking the streets in the town square. When my shift ends, I bump into Elias on the steps leading out of the station.

And he’s not bopping this time. He’s grinning, and his smile reaches the stars.

“My, my, someone is happy,” I say, grateful for a distraction.

Elias’s eyes dance with delight. “Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“Did you win the lottery?”

“Feels like it.” He punches the sky. “I got it.”

I tilt my head, inquiring, “What did you get?”

“Chief just told me I’m going to be a sergeant. I landed a promotion.” He taps his chest. “Me! Holy shit! Me! I can’t wait to tell the missus. She’s going to be so proud of me.”

I blink, shock slamming into me, making it hard to breathe. He can’t be saying what he’s saying. Please don’t let him be saying that. “You did?”

Shaking his hips, he dives into a whole new kind of dance. A victory jig. “And I didn’t even need a viral video to do it. Chief just said he was proud of my track record and I’d earned the job. No need for theatrics. Just good, honest work.”

I draw a harsh breath and will myself to show nothing. Display nothing. “That’s the way to do it,” I say robotically. But underneath, a knife of self-doubt slices away at my heart. Did I take on too much with the extra reports? Did I botch the jewelry store case? Was traffic duty a mess? A new issue lodges in my mind—was it a mistake to enter the contest?