Page 6 of Detective for the Debutante (SAFE Haven Security #3)

MURPHY

F uuuuck.

At the first contact of her lips against mine, my dick punches against the zipper of my slacks like a horse at the gate during the sounding bell of the Kentucky Derby.

I want the record to reflect I had tried to be good. I had tried to not kiss her. I couldn’t control what she did.

And while she may have taken me by surprise at first, after a heartbeat, I take the kiss over.

Lifting my hands, I cup her jaw, tilting her head and taking the kiss further.

Deeper. My tongue dips in, tasting hers.

A small moan works its way from her throat, not leaving the fusion of our mouths, but the small sound does ratchet the kiss up another degree.

She presses against me, her breasts crushing against my chest. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to be doing this with nothing between us.

I skim my fingers down her arms, my tips grazing the side of her breasts as I travel south and find her hips to grip the warm flesh beneath the silky fabric.

Flexing my fingers, I lift her to the bottom step and ease the slight crick in my neck—Christ, she’s fucking tiny—but not breaking the connection between my mouth and hers.

Not until my lungs are ready to burst from lack of oxygen.

Only that burn is enough for me to rip my lips from hers, dropping my mouth to her jawline while I suck air into my deprived lungs.

And only long enough to gulp several deep breaths before finding her lips again.

This time her tongue finds mine and my hands shift back, squeezing her ass and yanking her lower body into mine.

She lifts a leg, wrapping it around my hip and pulling me closer while her fingers grip the fabric at my arms.

A curse echoes through my body, wanting to feel the pinprick of her nails against my skin.

I want it all. To taste the silky flesh so readily exposed by her dress. To find all the hidden places that inspire her to moan my name. What would it sound like on her lips as she falls apart?

You don’t need to find out . She’s too young for you. She’s a good friend’s little sister .

Her fingers climb my chest again, and those thoughts skitter away as I lose myself to the sensation of her. Her taste. Her scent. Her touch.

I’m a hair’s breadth from asking her up to my room. To take what she so willingly is offering.

It’s why I need to break the kiss. To step back.

My fingers flex, unwilling to let her go, and the struggle is real until I can soften the kiss before I break it. It’s even harder to put space between us, but I need the cool air that rushes in, bringing with it a wash of sanity and a much-needed reality check.

I was just making out with a woman fourteen years my junior. Cole’s little sister-in-law. How would I feel if one of my friends made out with one of my sisters?

They’re both either married or engaged .

That logic has no place here.

Not like you were using logic a second ago .

Her eyes blink open slowly, the light on the porch turning them to sapphires. Her lips are swollen, begging for more kisses, and her nipples are pebbled against the bodice of her dress. My hands itch to reach up, to give them the attention they’re asking for so prettily.

“Wow,” she whispers.

I’ll second that thought.

Clearing my throat, I don’t say anything. What can I say? I should have stayed firm and dodged the kiss. I shouldn’t have put myself—and Leigh—in this situation.

But that horse is already galloping free. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I’m trying desperately not to yank her back against me. To claim her the way my body is demanding. I’ve done enough.

“Should we…” Her teeth sink into her lush lower lip, and my dick reminds me he’s still ready for action. “Do you want to take this inside? Head to your room?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Everything in me wants to say yes.

Just because you can doesn’t mean you should .

I know this. Which is why when she reaches out a hand, I take another step back. Her expression goes from turned on and well-kissed to confused, that deep line bisecting her brows again and her blue eyes sharpening to focus as she studies me.

Because of me.

And what I was too weak to prevent.

“I…that kiss…” I stumble over words, trying to find the right ones.

I need the blood centered in my dick to come back to my brain to help me find the words I need to let her down gently.

“It was amazing,” she says, her eyes lighting up as she reaches for me again.

“It was.” I’m not going to lie. That kiss was the best I’ve had in a long time.

My hands reach for hers before they can connect to my chest and I hold them awkwardly between us. Because if she touches me again, I can’t guarantee I’ll do what I’m supposed to do.

“It sounds like there’s more.”

I nod. “I’m older than you?—”

“Who cares?” she asks, a mischievous smile drawing my attention back to her mouth.

Focus, O’Connell .

“Not by a year or two, Leigh. There’s fourteen years between us.”

Her smile fades at the edges.

“Age is just a number. You’re attracted to me just like I am to you. We’re both consenting adults. That kiss?—”

“It doesn’t eliminate the age gap. And even if I didn’t focus on that, I respect Cole too much to fool around with his little sister.”

“He’s not my brother,” she argues.

“Brother- in - law ,” I correct.

“Why does he get to dictate who I sleep with?” Her smile fades, her hands dropping mine.

Part of me wants to reach back out, to tangle our fingers back together.

But I have to fight that urge.

“I have no plans to settle down?—”

“Neither do I. Jeez, you act like this is a lifelong thing versus one night.”

Her comment rubs me the wrong way.

Because she’s not a casual sex kind of girl .

“You have your whole life in front of you. And deserve more than burning the sheets up for a few weeks before we go our separate ways.” The words are hard to get out, but I manage.

“You’re pretty sure of yourself,” she sneers.

I let the comment slide because she’s hurt. Her arms cross in front of her and wrap around her body, the rejection clear.

This is my fault.

Goddammit.

“I…I’m sorry,” I say.

“Yeah, that makes two of us.” Turning on her heel, she marches to the front door.

“Leigh—”

“Good night, Murphy.”

“Good night, Leigh. I’m?—”

The front door slams on my apology.

“That went well,” I mutter, blowing out a breath as I lean my head back to stare at the star-filled sky.

I’ll give her time to cool off and try to apologize again in the morning before I head back to Nashville.

There’s no sign of Leigh as I step inside the B and B. It’s probably a good thing since it wouldn’t take much to break the control I’ve managed to build around myself. Leigh Whittaker is a beautiful woman. Inside and out.

Trudging up the stairs, I stop myself from checking under other doors, looking for a light to go track her down. Instead, I find my room, unlocking the door and heading for the bathroom to shower.

But the water isn’t cold.

Alone in the steam-filled room, I recall the kiss with perfect clarity. I imagine what it would be like if Leigh was here with me. Pretend I was able to unwrap her silky dress and discover the smooth expanse of skin underneath.

Her name is on my lips as my hand wraps around my dick.

Which is going to stay my little secret.

Because as beautiful as she is, Leigh Whittaker is off-limits.