Blackmailed Into Bed Read online

  He pushed harder and tried to take her mouth back. She struggled against him. "Stop."

  His breathing was labored. "Why?"

  She was dazed at the speed of his actions. She put her hands on his chest and tried to push. She had no strength. "I don't like the gun. Please, I-"

  He cut off her words. "Okay, babe." He moved his thigh from between her legs and lowered her to the floor. Her legs shook. He steadied her, then stepped back. She leaned against the wall for support while he unbuckled the harness and took the weapon off his shoulder. His eyes never left hers. He moved across the room and opened a cabinet and put the gun inside. He snapped it shut. He started coming back to her.

  She looked around and moved away from the wall. She couldn't let him corner her there again. She walked into a living area that was connected to the kitchen. He followed her.

  Amy thought desperately of something to say or do to slow him down. "Nice house." She looked away from his piercing eyes and focused on the room. A big coffee table in front of a large couch dominated the center of the room. She reached down and absently straightened the pile of magazines scattered on it. She mindlessly fluffed a pillow on the couch. Her eyes found his and then darted away again.

  Jake saw her discomfort as she awkwardly moved around the room. He tried to give her a moment to adjust. He savored the pleasure of finally having her to himself. In his home. In his power.

  "Okay. No gun." He held up his hands to show he was no threat. "Come here."

  "Um, no J-Jake-," she began.

  "Um, yes Amy," he returned, coming toward her.

  She held up one slim hand and gave him her best teacher face. "No. This is going too fast. I think we should slow down."

  "Too fast? Are you fucking kidding me?" She cringed at his crudity. "You've had my guts tied up for ten weeks. You're lucky you're not naked right now. I don't even remember what a hot shower feels like anymore. All I get are cold ones. Because of you. I thought that I would never get to have you. And now I find out you don't have a Goddamn husband." He shouted the last five words.

  She stood looking at him in shock and horror. He raked his hand through his hair and turned away from her. He took a sharp breath and looked back. She was standing there, petrified. Petrified because of him. Shit.

  "I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated as hell by this whole situation. I don't understand why you let me think for ten weeks that you were married. What the hell are you so scared of?"

  He looked her over while he waited for her answer. She was dressed in skin tight, low-rise capri length jeans. Her shoes were nude colored, three inch platform sandals. Her top was sleeveless and clung to her breasts. He'd never seen her in anything remotely like that before.

  She was an itch he needed to scratch.

  "I'm not scared of anything. I didn't know you thought I was married-"

  "That's bullshit. Why the hell wouldn't I? You have pictures of your daughter on your desk. Everyone at that school calls you 'Mrs. Sanford.' "He glared at her.

  "What was I supposed to say? 'Oh, by the way, Lieutenant Hottie, I'm not married?' Besides, I didn't think you noticed me anyway." That part wasn't true. She knew he had been aware of her every time he was in her classroom. But no matter how deep the attraction, she wouldn't let herself get involved with him. Her past made it impossible for her to consider it.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him.

  "So, you think I'm hot?" He started in her direction again.

  "Stop. We haven't resolved anything. Quit stalking me." Her voice was shrill. She scooted around to the other side of the coffee table.

  "Okay, babe. You win. I'm going to walk back in the kitchen, and get you a glass of wine. Then we'll sit and talk." He turned to leave the room.

  "Oh my God! Renee and Jenny. I forgot Renee and Jenny. The wine reminded me. I'm supposed to meet them. I need to go-"

  "You're not going anywhere." He reached over and grabbed his cell phone off the counter. "Call them. Cancel."

  "I can't just cancel." He put the phone in her hand.

  "Even if I wanted to let you go, you can't. Your car will stall again. You're staying here. We'll get it worked on tomorrow." Indecision was etched on her features.

  She opened the phone and looked at it. She slowly keyed in Renee's number. Jake walked around behind her and threaded his arms around her waist while she waited for Renee to pick up.

  "Hello?" Amy could tell her friend didn't recognize the number.

  "Renee, it's me, Amy." Jake moved his hand and palmed her breast. She jumped.

  "Amy, are you all right? Where are you?" Amy held the phone away from her ear in a daze. That hand felt so good.

  Jake whispered in her ear. "Tell her you're okay, but had car trouble." He tugged on her nipple.

  "I-I'm okay. I had c-car trouble." Her voice was soft, quiet. She could feel the wetness between her thighs.

  "Oh my gosh! Do you need me? I'll be right there." Renee's voice was shrill, concerned.

  Amy hung like a puppet in Jake's grasp. "Tell her not to come. Tell her you're fine. Tell her you're with the police." His whispered instructions tickled her ear. His hand moved down to cup her heat. She sucked in her breath.

  "I-I'm fine. You don't need to come. I'm w-with the police. Bye." She closed the phone and it dropped to the floor.

  Jake slid his hand up her shirt and cupped a silk covered breast. He rubbed the liquid heat between her legs. "You did real good, babe. Real good."

  She sagged in his arms. "W-well." Her voice was a shaken whisper.

  He sucked her earlobe into his mouth. "What?"

  "I did real well. Not good. Well." Her hips moved against his hand.

  He chuckled. "Oh yes, ma'am, Ms. Sanford. You did real well." He turned her in his hold. One brawny arm slid around her waist and the other reached to caress her breast under her shirt. "Is there anything else you want me to learn tonight, teacher girl?" His thumb stroked back and forth across her nipple.

  She moaned. She clung to his biceps and lifted her lips. "I d-don't think-"

  He took her lips with his and rubbed them slowly across hers. He took her bottom lip in his mouth and gently sucked. His teeth raked across it. His tongue reached out and took licks where his teeth had abraded only a moment before. "That's okay, sweetheart, you don't need to think. I've got you."

  He took her hand and led her to the couch. She mindlessly followed him. Once she was sitting, he knelt in front of her and put his hands on her thighs. He slowly pushed them apart and moved his torso between her knees. His hands made a swirling pattern on the top of her legs and his eyes held hers. "You are the prettiest little thing I've ever seen." He slid his hands to the inside of her thighs. "So sweet. So damn pretty. It's hard to believe you're thirty-seven. You look about twenty-five." He swirled one hand up and over her feminine mound and away again.

  Amy squirmed at the enticement. Her breath was coming quickly. "How d-did you know that?" He raised one dark eyebrow and stared into her eyes. "My plates?" He nodded his head and looked down at his hands grasping her legs. He reached for her liquid heat again. She started panting. "H-how old are you?"

  "Thirty-nine." He reached down and slid off one of her sandals, then the other. He picked up one delicate little foot and held it in the palm of his hand. "What size are these?" He ran his index finger over the dark pink paint on her toes.

  "F-five" She watched, enthralled by his gentleness. "Have you ever been married? Do you have any kids?"

  "No, and no." His hands kept running back and forth, up and down her legs, all the way to her feet. The sweep of his hands was smooth, firm. "What else do you want to know? I have two sisters, both in New Orleans. My parents are retired and living in Florida. I was raised Catholic, but I don't go to church. I'm heterosexual and don't have any STD's. Does that about cover it?"

  Amy nodded her head. She couldn't get any words to form. His hands were petting her. Moving from the inside of her thighs to the feminine he
at between and then back down again.

  "You are so beautiful. Do you know how beautiful you are?" His words were enticing. Magical. She shook her head, denying his words. "You're gorgeous. Do you know how long I've wanted your gorgeous little body?"

  "I'm not little." Her words were soft, subdued.

  "Not little?" He ran his hands down the outside of each leg until he reached her calves. He wrapped each hand around an ankle and lifted her legs slightly. "Look." Her heart started pounding when she saw his big hands around her ankles. His fingers completely wrapped around her and still overlapped. Excitement gripped her. That was so sexy. He was so sexy. He moved closer to her and wrapped her legs around his waist. She sucked in a breath.

  "W-wait. You were going to get us some w-wine, remember?" Her soft, pliant little body was spread out on his couch. Her breath came in sporadic little bursts of energy. He was ready for her, but he also felt calm, just from having her here, all to himself. He would indulge her for awhile, if it meant she would relax and let him have all that softness.

  He lifted himself to his feet. "Stay there. Don't even think about moving from that spot." His words were rough, assertive. Amy sat and quietly tried not to lose her mind. She had to get a grip. Everything that was happening seemed like a dream. She was held immobile by the cravings rushing through her.

  He came back to her in less than a minute. He set two wine glasses on the coffee table and eased back onto the couch next to her. He spread his legs wide and lifted one big, booted foot and put it on the table. He clasped his hands together and raised them up behind his head. He leaned back and stared at her. He made no move to pick up his wine.

  Amy watched him sprawled out next to her, taking up most of the couch. Tension ran through her as he just sat there. She picked up her glass and took a sip. Her hand was shaking so much that she had to put the glass back down.

  He watched her squirming on the couch. Her nervousness was tangible. "How long have you been divorced?"

  She started at the abrupt words. "Five years." She looked away from him and tried to concentrate on his house. It was a one-story ranch, out in the suburbs. The furniture was masculine and looked sturdy enough to handle his large frame. It was kept neat, with very little clutter. There was a clock hanging on one wall, and a flat-screen television mounted on another. There were no pictures, no decorations. It was a guy's house. It suited him.

  "How old were you when you got married?"

  "Twenty-two. Right after college." She took another sip and felt the warmth of the wine flow through her.

  "Married ten years?" He was barking the questions at her, one after the other.

  "Yes. "

  "Bad marriage?"

  "I guess." She shrugged. "We got divorced. The first five or so years were okay. The last five, we just fought. We grew apart. We both wanted out. So, we got divorced. It wasn't easy. But he's a good father, and I appreciate that about him."

  He grunted. "Hmm. So, how much do you date?"

  "D-date? Um, n-not a lot. But I go out. Renee, Jenny and I go out a lot. We have fun." A look of irritation crossed his face.

  "Really? Where do ya'll go?" Amy felt like she was on the witness stand.

  "Well, we go to different restaurants, and to the movies, shopping-"

  "Restaurants? Shopping? That's it? No dancing, clubs, bar-hopping?" His voice held disbelief.

  "No. Of course not-"

  "Of course not? Why the hell not? You're young. Single. Unattached. Goddamn beautiful. You're not out there looking for a husband again like every other single woman in Baton Rouge?" Disbelief laced his words.

  "No. I absolutely don't want another husband. I have my daughter. I really don't want any more kids. I have my friends-"

  He cut her off. "What about sex?"

  "I-I, well, I-" She stopped and licked her lips. Her mouth was dry. She picked up her glass of wine and took a large sip.

  "So, what you're not saying is that you haven't been having sex, is that right?" He looked into her eyes.

  "That's right." Her answer was soft.

  Satisfaction ran through him. He reached out and took her chin in one large hand. He ran his rough thumb over her lips. Her breath caught. Her agitation was palpable. His voice was deep and sure. "We are going to have so much fun."

  Amy jerked her face away from his hand and valiantly tried to take control of the situation. "N-no." She shook her head.

  "No? You don't think it's going to be fun?"

  "I don't want to get involved with you." Her voice was soft, but firm. "You shouldn't have threatened me. You shouldn't have made me come here. You knew I hadn't been drinking tonight."

  "That's bullshit. You know I wouldn't force you to do anything. I'm a cop, not a criminal. You took the easy excuse I gave you, and now here you are. You're still letting whatever hang up you have about me scare you. So, what's the problem?"

  "I don't want to get involved with you." She crossed her arms over her chest.

  "Well, strictly speaking, babe, I don't want to get involved with you, either. I just want to sleep with you." His voice was arrogant, self assured.

  "Well, that's not going to happen. Since you're not going to arrest me, you can take me home."

  "I'm not taking you home until I get some answers. Why the hell are you so scared of what's between us?" Jake was irritated at his own tone. He was barking at her, when he knew he should be talking gently, seducing her. He tried to temper his words with slow, gentle movements.

  Amy felt her hand taken between his. He pulled her to her knees and her hands fell to his shoulders. He steadied her with his hands on her hips. He spoke softly. "What's wrong? Why can't you just give me all this softness?" His words were bewitching, filling her mind with pleasure.

  She leaned her head into him and answered him. "I'm scared of cops."

  Her answer disconcerted him. He tried to stay gentle. "Why, sweetheart? Have you done something wrong?"

  Her head was buried in his shoulder. He felt the small, negative movement as she shook her head. "Then what is it? Tell me."

  She took a deep, shuddering breath. "My father was killed in the line of duty."

  Chapter Three

  Shock went through him. His arms immediately tightened all the way around her. He held her for a long moment in silence. "I'm so sorry. Oh, sweetheart, you don't know how sorry I am."

  "It was a long time ago. I was thirteen and we were in California." The words started pouring from her. "My mother tried to run away from it all and moved us all the way to Lake Charles."

  He wanted to know the details, but this was not the time to ask. Later on, after this initial conversation.

  "A lot of good it did. Dad's department kept up with us, and notified the sheriff in Calcasieu parish. You know the system. Law enforcement takes care of the widows of fallen officers. It took barely eighteen months for my mom to be married again. This time to a sheriff's deputy. They've been married ever since. Her voice was flat, unemotional.

  He held her while she talked, running his fingers up and down her spine in long, soothing sweeps. "And you didn't like that?"

  "I love Robert. I even call him 'Dad' now. I just don't understand how she could do it. Losing my father was horrible. How could she put herself through that again? Of course I understand why she would get married again. She was only thirty-five. So young, and she was so pretty--"

  "Was she as pretty as you?" The words were deep, questioning.

  She lifted her face from his shoulder to look at him. "Umm, I d-don't know…we look alike. All my life, everyone has always told me I look exactly like my mother."

  Tenderness consumed him at her hesitant answer. "She must be beautiful." He kissed her lips, teasing them apart. They shared a slow, consuming kiss filled with need and hunger. He lifted his lips from hers. "So that's the reason? The reason you've been running from me for ten weeks?"

  She opened her eyes. "Yes."

  His hands gripped her harder. "I won't let
you go. I'm sorry for everything you've lost, but I won't let it make me give you up. I'm not asking for a relationship. Hell, I don't want a relationship. I'm not expecting a commitment or anything from you. But I will have you. Understand?

  Her eyes were dark with emotion as she trembled in his arms. She nodded her head in surrender.

  He couldn't wait. Lust raced through his system. The reason for her reticence explained, he wanted her now. This second.

  He fastened his hands on her and picked her up and dropped her in his lap. He smoothed a hand over her silky, dark hair. "Look how perfect you fit in my arms," he whispered in her ear. He dropped a hand to the row of buttons on her shirt. "Everything is going to fit just perfect, babe." He spoke into her ear. The first button came undone. "I bet you're tiny all over." The second button came undone. "Are you? Are you this tiny all over?" His hand left her shirt and drifted to the liquid heat between her thighs. He pressed and rubbed her through her jeans.

  She couldn't find her voice to answer him. Need clawed through her veins. "I'm going to be real careful, sweetheart. I don't want to hurt you." He unsnapped her jeans. "You don't want me to hurt you, do you babe?" He ran the zip down. He lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. His words were drugging. She whimpered. "You promise to be a good girl and let me be gentle with you, okay?"

  "Y-yes." Her voice was breathless. She undulated gently against him.

  "You promise? Say, 'I promise, Jake.'" His hand slid back up to the third button. It came loose.

  "I p-promise, J-Jake," she moaned.

  "That's a good girl. I'm going to make it so good for you, babe." The fourth button came undone. "I guess you're not protected, are you?"

  Shock and panic momentarily dulled the passion running through her. "No, I'm n-not protected."

  "It's okay. I'll take care of it. You don't have to worry about anything." The last button came undone. He spread the shirt open. Lust clawed through his guts at the beautiful picture she made. Red lace covered the slight swells of her breasts. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and her dark hair fell in waves over her shoulders. He reached up and peeled the shirt off her shoulders.