Searching for Always by Jennifer Probst
"Damn, you're hot. Too bad you're also a pain in the ass and completely wrong for me."
She bared her teeth, more comfortable with the punch of anger that flooded her system. "Good, because it'd be a cold day in hell before I'd pick you as a boyfriend."
"How about a lover?" His breath rushed warm over her lips.
She opened her mouth to tell him this little scene was now over. Instead, the denial tumbled from her lips. "You're my student. We need to keep the boundaries appropriate."
His thumb brushed her lips, as gentle and light as a feather stroke. "That's just an excuse and you know it. You're not my official therapist. There's no hard-and-fast rules about a six-week course."
She stumbled over her next denial. "I don't want a lover. I need three months to cleanse properly from my last relationship."
"What if I can help?"
She managed to snort. "Oh, I know how you want to help."
Stone chuckled, tracing the outline of her lips. She tried hard not to tremble and show weakness, but the melty sensation in her stomach grew worse, and when she tried to squeeze her thighs for relief, she only managed to tip him off that she was aroused. Sweat pricked her brow. She would not lose this battle. If she kept strong, he'd back off and they'd be able to finish the six-week course in harmony. She needed Officer Stone Petty as a sexual distraction as much as she needed a neighbor like Mrs. Blackfire.
"I have a proposition," he drawled. "One kiss. Let's prove to each other we'd be a disaster together."
"I don't need a kiss to confirm you'd be a nightmare to deal with," she shot back. "You're an ex-smoker, workaholic, anger-ridden, meat eater cynic."
His fingers moved to caress her cheek, the line of her jaw, up to her temple. Little brushes of tenderness, contradicting the raw strength and power in those hands and body. Ready to crush her but choosing gentleness. The lust rolled over her in waves, and she fought back with all her power.
"And you're a tree-hugging, naive, post-world hippie with a God complex," he retorted. "Vegetarian, to boot. Plus a hardened criminal."
Arilyn growled under her breath and dug her nails into his shoulders with fierceness. "You know nothing about me, Officer! I am not naive."
"Stone. Now shut up."
His mouth took hers.
She planned to fight back and give him everything she got.
And she did, but not in the way she planned.
The moment those blistering-hot, soft lips met hers, she lost it. Swamped by the delicious scent and taste and feel of him, she arched upward and opened her mouth for more. He muttered something dark and dirty, and slid his tongue past her parted lips and beyond.
Then he showed her who was boss.
Oh, he kissed her with all the hard passion and lust she always dreamed about but never inspired. With her past lovers, she got tender, slow lovemaking, and poetic words murmured in her ear. Moves were coordinated like a beautiful song, and though she was satisfied, and emotionally full, there was an ache deep in her body that never felt completely fulfilled.
She'd thought something was wrong with her and happily ignored that part of herself.
Until now.
Stone Petty owned her. Possessed her. His tongue took what he wanted and demanded it all, with each thrust and complete deflowering of her mouth. He reached around and sunk his fingers into her hair, tugging her head back to expose her throat and keep her helpless beneath him. Her breasts pressed against his hard chest, his erection notched between her open thighs, and he ravished her body and soul, leaving nothing behind but an aching, horrible want for more.
She exploded with her own demands, turning the kiss into something much more. Whimpering, she opened her mouth wider, arched her body up to rock against his hardness, and dug her short nails into his scalp.
"You taste so good," he muttered, biting and sucking on her lower lip. "Like sugar cookies. I want to spread you out, taste you, eat you until you come apart."
His dirty words caused a rush of liquid warmth to trickle between her legs. "Oh, God, this is bad," she gasped, clinging tighter. "Very bad."
"And so good." He ground his erection against her, bumped her clit, and she shuddered, writhing to get closer. "Need more." He ripped his mouth from hers, grabbed the stretchy halter top, and pulled it down to bare her breasts.
She wasn't wearing a bra.
"I just died and went to heaven," he groaned, his hands cupping her breasts and rubbing her tight nipples. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out, especially when he plucked at her, watching her tortured face as if to see what she liked. "You're like butter and cream, silky smooth. Peach nipples, just like I thought. How do they taste?"
"No, don't, I don't think--oh!"
His lips opened over one aching tip, his tongue swiping over and over, nibbling on her like a feast. She drowned in a tidal wave of sensation, her brain shut down, her body exploding on overload like a bad circuit firing up.
Her past seductions consisted of scented candles, romantic verses read aloud, and the taste of champagne. Silken sheets turned down. Long, endlessly orchestrated scenes that she always dreamed she wanted.
Now she realized how they'd barely scratched the surface of her need. Right now, she wanted to push Stone Petty on the ground, climb on top of him, and sink down until he slid deep inside her. She wanted to get sweaty, be loud, and take pleasure on her terms, with nothing holding her back. With a man who wasn't afraid to be rough, and demanding, and bad.
"I want you. Now. Here." He looked up, his mouth wet, eyes fierce and so filled with hunger she began to shake. "You want it, too."
She did.
But she couldn't.
My God. What was she doing?
Sanity returned. He was all wrong for her! This man irritated her on a constant basis. They'd have crazy sex, and he'd saunter away and torture her with his smug grins for the rest of the anger management class. She was recovering from a broken heart and had no energy to tackle such a sizzling affair. He'd eat her alive. In a good way. In a bad way.
"I can't." Arilyn pushed weakly at his shoulders. Her voice got stronger. "I can't."
She gave him credit. He backed off immediately, hands lifted in the air as he grabbed for his composure. "Okay. Give me a minute." She took the time to yank up her top, straighten her clothes, and get herself together. Stone shook his head hard, rubbed his hands over his face, and let out a breath. "Got carried away."
Satisfaction surged. It was nice to know she wasn't the only one affected by the kiss. Arilyn wondered if she'd ever be able to kiss another man without thinking of Stone. His goatee was a combination of silky and bristly, a delicious contradiction to the softness of his lips. His taste was better than those apple martinis she loved so much. Tart, spicy, with a heat that slid into her bloodstream and exploded in her tummy.
"I did, too," she offered. "I'm sorry."
He scowled. "I'm not. Thought you had more backbone than to apologize for a great kiss."
And just like that, the annoyance was back. "I don't need this type of complication in my life right now," she snapped. "You're a client. We can't blur the lines."
Those lush lips that had bestowed such pleasure now treated her to his famous sneer. "Don't give me that crap. As I just said, I'm not your client, and you're not my real therapist. You counsel me to control my temper, which is getting frayed right now by your sad excuses."
She bristled in fury. "Excuses? I don't need an excuse! We kissed, it was good, I'm over it. Let's move on. The last thing I need is a pushy cop wrecking my life."
He got in her face. "Lady, you wrote the book on pushy. A relationship with you would be a nightmare. But you can't deny we'd steam up the sheets together."
She gave up poetry for this? He was rude, crude, and owned no soft edges. First he kissed her, then he yelled. Even if she wanted a transitional lover, he was all wrong. Arilyn refused to back down, even if she had to tilt her head back to eyeball him. "Classy. You can go ahead and
He shook his head as if disgusted by the thought. "Can't. Chemistry this good is rare. It may piss me off, but we have to explore it."
She gasped. "In your dreams! It was a complete fluke. I'm not exploring anything with you!"
He studied her with hard eyes, and the man did something so outrageous she didn't see it coming.
He kissed her again. Just manhandled her, pulling her in and planting his lips over hers for a long, deep, thorough kiss that curled her toes and revved her body right up to Ferrari status.
The worst part?
She responded.
He slid her back down to the ground, letting her feel his rock-hard abs and thighs, ran his tongue over his bottom lip as if to taste her one last time, then gave a cocky grin. "Yep. That's what I thought. I'll keep this crime a secret for now, but you owe me big. See you in class."
Stone turned his back on her and walked toward the door.
Arilyn squeaked with outrage, shaking with the urge to belt him and wipe out his satisfaction. Finally, she found her voice. "I still don't like you one bit, Officer Petty!"
He glanced back over his shoulder and winked. "I still don't like you either."
Then he left.
Arilyn turned to look at the dog, who still hadn't moved. Just stared into space, looking at something else.
A premonition washed over her. If she allowed her body to weaken, she'd ask him to take her to bed. And he'd destroy her in ways even her ex hadn't touched. She couldn't risk her heart being broken a second time so soon.
She might never recover.
Arilyn knelt beside Pinky, gently stroking her head. She didn't respond. She'd clean the wounds, maybe feed her through a dropper to get some water in her system. Anthony would know the best plan to undertake. In the meantime, she'd keep her head down and get to goal.
The end of anger management and the end of seeing Stone Petty.
nine
A FEW DAYS LATER, Stone realized he should've just thrown her in jail.
It would've been a hell of a lot easier.
The motley crew of the anger management class gathered around the outdoor kennels at the Animals Alive shelter. At first, he'd looked forward to a field trip. Spending hours locked in a room with her, trying to do yoga or meditate or talk in the circle, was painful. For his mental state and his body. Besides a constant state of blue balls, they'd formed another type of connection.
They shared a secret. Stone knew there was a level of intimacy in sharing something no one knew about. Every time their gazes touched, energy shimmered between them, a reminder of the favor that hung ripe and beat through every undercurrent of conversation.
He figured a little air was good for the soul, and they'd visit some crazy ashram or help children or serve food to the homeless. But this he refused to do.
He hated dogs.
Stone tried to focus on her lecture.
"Animals are statistically proven to help lower stress and ease anger issues in humans," she said. Today she wore jeans, scuffed brown boots, a snug tank, and some sort of crochet cape thing in bright red. Her hair, caught in a high ponytail, was shimmering red-gold under the weak rays of sun. The leaves, which had fully turned in a stunning display of orange, amber, and yellow, crunched beneath their feet. Acres of woods spread out behind them, with a small building as the welcome center, horse stalls, and different types of gates holding various types of animals. "Now, I'm sure you're all wondering how volunteering our time with rescues can possibly help control anger management. First, serving the community helps us get out of our worlds and reminds us of what we do have. Though anger is a trigger and caused by a multitude of stresses, it is also part of ego. It's selfish. Getting in touch with less fortunate creatures, big and small, ground us in the reality of what we do have. If you're driving to work, get caught in horrific traffic, and start to lose it, reminding yourself of the dog who was abused with no home or the child struggling with cancer can actually help ground us in the bigger reality."
Luther and Eli looked fascinated. Stone grudgingly admitted she was a good speaker. Spending years around lies and bullshit and criminals made it harder to be empathetic or believe in something bigger. She did. The pure energy of her spirit practically rolled around her in waves. She drew people in with the urge just to be around her, listen to her speak, maybe touch her. She had a gift, and Stone bet she had no idea how she affected people.
"I'll be handing the training over to Anthony, our director. He's going to show you the procedures, and then we'll spend the next hour working with the animals on a one-to-one basis."
No way.
Stone studied the guy who stepped up and thanked her. He had those moony eyes Stone knew too well. The director had a crush on Arilyn big-time. As he took them through the greeting center and showed them how to put on a leash, how the dogs they walked or spent time with were coded, and how to follow the rules, Stone wondered how Arilyn felt about him. She'd told him in the car he was in the friend zone, but could that change? No. She kissed him like a woman who was starving and not actively dating or interested in another man. Stone was trying to be her transitional. But Anthony seemed to be a better fit for her lifestyle over the long term.
Stone brooded. They were similar. Both shared a passion for animals. He worked for charity. Good-looking guy, too. Looked Italian, so the guy probably knew how to cook. If she were smart, she'd date this guy and stay away from him. Stone couldn't promise her anything but the best night of her life. Oh, and hanging out with a workaholic, anger-ridden divorce who wanted no children.
Yeah, it was a real win-win.
His mood soured. He trotted behind Anthony, learned the rules, and then was handed back to his teacher. They both smiled so brightly at each other, Stone wondered if he'd be blinded for life. He got a fucking cavity looking at them. Weren't they just perfect together?
Anthony squeezed her hand, leaned down, and whispered in her ear. She laughed, swatted his arm playfully, and turned back to the group. "Okay, guys, we're going to focus on the dogs today. Listen to Anthony's instructions and go by the color-coded tags. Green is acceptable to take for a walk. Blue is no touch. Yellow is needs social interaction."
She led them to the long, narrow aisle of gates. The smell of earth, rotting leaves, and dog poop rose in the air. The whines and barks grew to a shrieking level as the dogs recognized company and tried to get noticed. He watched Luther and Eli choose their dogs, clipping on the leashes and leading crazy bundles of energy out the squeaky gate door. Luther seemed delighted with the large black Lab rushing toward freedom, and Eli had a small smile with the medium-sized mutt with the long snout.
Stone took in their lolling tongue, sharp eyes, and big snouts. Then he freaked.
Sweat broke out on his skin. A low panic clawed at his stomach. He took a few steps back.
"Stone, are you okay? Just pick one and clip on the leash."
He stared back at her, shaking his head hard. "I'm more of a cat person. I'll go to the cat house instead."
She frowned. "The cat house is being refurbished, so it's off-limits today."
"Then I'll hit the stables."
"Horse training is an entire day."
The image of the pit bull leaping at him, teeth bared, drawing blood while he screamed like a baby and writhed on the ground hit him full force. It was suddenly hard to breathe. He was getting the hell out. "Well, I'll help in the office or something. I'm not doing this. I told you I hate dogs and always have."
He beat a hasty retreat, but she was suddenly in front of him, placing her hands gently on his arm. "Stone? I'm so sorry, I didn't know."
He gritted his teeth. Wished for a cigarette so bad he figured the patch would explode off him. "Know what?"
"The dogs. Did you get bit?"
The horror of her knowing his one weakness made him snap. "I'm not afraid of the damn dogs, okay? I just don't like them. Is that a fucking crime?"
Instead
She faced him again. "It's my fault for not checking with everyone about how they feel about animals. I'm sorry. And if you were bitten, that's a traumatic experience very difficult to get over. Dogs need to earn your trust back, just like we need to earn theirs sometimes."
He suddenly felt stupid being embarrassed over something that wasn't his fault. How did she do that? Make him see things in a different way? He cleared his throat. "Sorry. I was a kid and a pit bull knocked me down, bit the hell out of my leg. The owner just laughed and urged the dog on."
She nodded. "Yeah, I hear those stories a lot. Most dogs don't start off that way, but it's probably too late. We can't save them all. That's why I wanted to rescue Pinky so badly. I thought maybe there'd be a chance."
How often had he uttered condolences to a family member who lost someone? A weak excuse but all he had left to offer. The tightness in his chest eased. In her own way, Arilyn knew the battle he took on every day. So much loss, but you did it for the occasional win.
"Why'd you name that thing Pinky?"
She gave a half shrug. "Knew a Chihuahua with the name. She kicked butt and carried herself like royalty. Thought the poor thing could use a cool namesake."
"It's an awful name."
She grinned, and his heart lightened. Damn this woman and her ability to make him feel good as much as she pissed him off. It was terrible. "Next time you rescue an animal, you can name her," she said.
"Catching criminals is bad enough. I'll pass."
She pursed her lips, and her green eyes sparkled with laughter. His gaze focused on her lush mouth and what he wanted to do with it. She cleared her throat as if she knew. And wanted it, too. "How are you doing with the smoking?" She jerked her head toward his arm.