Home > Wicked (Wild, Wicked and Wanton #2)

Wicked (Wild, Wicked and Wanton #2)
Author: Jaci Burton


“step out of the vehicle and spread your legs.”

Blair tapped her long, just-manicured fingernails on the leather steering wheel and stared straight ahead, counting slowly to ten before she even looked out the window to acknowledge Rand McKay’s existence. And there was no way in hell she’d obey his ridiculous order. It was bad enough he’d pulled her over on this deserted stretch of road, sirens blaring, when she was already late for lunch with Abby and Callie. But to tell her to get out of her car and spread her legs like a common criminal?

He could kiss her ass.

No, wait. He’d probably enjoy that. And Blair wasn’t about to do anything Rand might enjoy.

“Get lost, Rand. I’m late for an appointment.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the slow slide of his Ray-Bans down his long, straight nose, the revelation of his steel gray eyes, the firm line of his full lips.

She would not be affected. She would not be affected. Her pebbling nipples be damned, she would not be affected!

“Maybe you misunderstood that siren I was wailing behind your speeding ass for the past three miles, Miss Newcastle. It means pull over and get out of the damn car. Now.”

Miss Newcastle. Whatever. She’d known Rand McKay since elementary school and long before he became sheriff of Silverwood. And he only called her Miss Newcastle when he wanted to piss her off.

It worked. She was good and angry. She pulled off her sunglasses and stared him down, refusing to even unbuckle her seat belt. “Mail me a ticket. You know my address.”

He bent over and leaned well-muscled, tanned forearms on the door. “Get out of the goddamned car now, Blair. Or I’ll come in there and get you. And if I have to come in there and get you, I’ll strip-search you right here on the road.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

With a disgusted sigh, she punched the button to release her seat belt, then flung the door open, hoping she’d toss Rand on his ass in the process. But he simply backed up with fluid ease and waited for her to exit her Mercedes. With a hard slam she shut the car door and crossed her arms in front of her.

“What the hell is your problem?” she asked, tapping her foot on the gravel.

She couldn’t see Rand’s eyes behind the silver of his sunglasses, but his smirk told her everything she needed to know.

“You were speeding.”

“Was not.”

“Eighty-five in a sixty is definitely speeding, Blair.”

“So write me a ticket and let me get out of here.”

“I’ll need to see your driver’s license and insurance verification.”

“Oh, for the love of God. Like you don’t have my data memorized.” He knew everything about her, including her address and license number. They’d known each other forever. They’d been at each other’s throats since high school. She knew Rand McKay better than any other man. The most irritating man she’d ever known. She leaned into the open window of her vehicle and took out her purse, rummaging through it for her identification.

“Is that a gun in your purse, Blair?”

“You know damn well it is.”

“Put the bag down, turn around, and place your hands on the roof of your car.”

She arched a brow. “Are you serious?”

“Do as I say. Now.”

“Rand, you know damn well I have a—”

“Do it!”

Man, he was in a pissy mood. And normally she’d fight him on this. But she could tell he was into playing cop today, and she wasn’t going to make lunch if she stood there and argued with him. This was a game. They’d played it before. If she let him have his way and he annoyed her for a few seconds, she’d be on her way. She turned around and placed her fingertips on the roof of her car.

“Spread your legs.”

Which is exactly what he’d said to her when he pulled her over. Only she’d thought he was joking. “Christ, Rand. This is not funny.”

“I’ll have to pat you down, see what else you’re hiding.”

She shot him an irritated glare over her shoulder. “You see what I’m wearing? I could hardly be hiding much.” Her skimpy silk skirt and tank top were all she could tolerate in the summer heat. If she wasn’t meeting Blair and Callie for drinks, she wouldn’t even have a bra on.

“Turn around and face your vehicle.”

He kicked her legs apart and stepped behind her, the nearness of his body crowding her against her car. She breathed in the spicy scent of him, made even more powerful by the afternoon heat. What was it about this man that both infuriated her and turned her on so much?

“I’m going to report you to your superiors,” she complained.

“You do that.”

He started at her wrists and ran his hands up her bare arms, over her shoulder, then made his way down. He didn’t need to touch her there, dammit. Her skin broke out in goose bumps when his fingertips brushed the outer swells of her breasts.

“Careful there,” she warned.

“Oh, I’m being very careful.”

He reached around and palmed her breasts. Her sheer silk bra couldn’t hide her traitorous rising nipples, her breasts swelling eagerly into his hands.

“That is not patting me down!”

“Just checking to see if you have anything hidden in your bra.”

“I do. My breasts. Now leave them alone!”

His warm breath blew against the nape of her neck, not at all cooling the sweat there. “They don’t act as if they want me to leave them alone.” To prove his point, he scraped his thumbs over her distended nipples. She bit back the groan that wanted to escape her throat. God, that man had talented hands. And she hadn’t been touched in . . . far too long. Her clit was throbbing, her pussy wet, and her panties clung to her skin.

She wanted sex.

But she didn’t want Rand. She didn’t!

“Are you quite finished?” she asked, gritting her teeth.

“Not quite.”

Somehow she’d make him pay for doing this to her, for forcing her to ignore her body’s needs. Any other man, and she’d have her legs wrapped around him and her pussy on his dick by now.

But she would never, ever fuck Rand McKay.

Not if he was the last man on earth and she was desperately horny. She’d rather fuck a cactus.

He finally relinquished his hold on her breasts, and she exhaled, but then his hot, huge hands skimmed her rib cage, sliding up and under the tank top to touch her bare skin. She flinched.

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing.” She’d be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of knowing he affected her. She’d simply pretend irritation and nothing else. And then she’d get him fired.

His knee insinuated itself farther between her legs as his hands found her hips. When he jerked her toward him, she’d had enough.

“Rand,” she warned.

But her warning fell on deaf ears. He lifted her skirt and sat her on his jeans-clad thigh, the scrape of denim against her swollen clit enough to make her gasp.

“You’re wet,” he whispered against her ear.

“It’s hot outside. I’m sweating,” she lied.

“Bullshit. I can smell you. That sweet scent is pussy, baby, not sweat.”

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