Page 315 of The Havenport Collection

Oliver

I t was late and I had spent most of the evening sparring with Watson. She was so much more than I ever could have imagined when I arrested her the other night in her pajamas.

She was smart, that was abundantly clear. And hiding behind the pleasant exterior was an absolute shark. Driven, ambitious, and sharp as a goddamn tack. Her mind was sexy as fuck.

But her body, that was pretty sexy too. I wanted to wrap her long, dark hair around my fist and kiss the hell out of her, but that was a terrible idea.

As she spoke, our bodies drifted closer together, and I couldn’t help but admire the swell of her breasts in her flowery dress.

I flexed my fingers. It had been ages since we slept together, but I remembered every single detail.

She was just my type—fiery and passionate, with pouty lips and a sharp tongue. Fuck. What she could probably do with that tongue.

I checked my watch; it was past eleven and I hadn’t slept last night. “I should probably head out. Do you have a ride home?”

“My sister is going to pick me up.”

I signaled to Fran to close out my tab when I felt Maeve forcefully grab my arm. “Wait a minute.”

I looked down at her and noticed the fire in her eyes. She gestured for me to come closer. Her lips brushed my earlobe as she whispered in my ear, “Why don’t I come home with you?”

I stood up straight, willing my cock to stand down. Did she just straight-up proposition me? Fuck, I loved how direct she was. And I wanted to take her home and fuck her senseless again.

I cupped her chin and stared into those dark eyes. “While I would love that, I can’t. You’re drunk.”

“Not anymore.” Her face morphed from sex kitten to angry raccoon in seconds.

“It’s not right. And it’s not because I’m not interested. I am. Just not tonight.”

She stared at me for a moment before crossing her arms and pouting. Honest-to-God pouting.

I wanted to take her over my knee and spank that pout right off her face. But I couldn’t take advantage. She had been drinking, not to mention the fact that she was in a volatile emotional state.

“How about this? I’ll drive you home. See you safely to your door.”

She eyed me suspiciously, clearly offended by my rejection.

“I’ll even buy you pizza,” I said, trying to salvage the situation.

“Fine,” she huffed, grabbing her purse and heading toward the door. “I’m hungry anyway.”

As always, you could smell Sal’s delicious pizza blocks away. I picked up my pace. If I was going to keep my hands to myself around Maeve, I needed something to occupy them. She seemed to sober up as we walked, quietly taking in the sights of late-night Havenport.

She looked around with wonder, and I had to direct her to the smell of sauce and cheese.

“Are you sure you grew up here?”

“Yeah. I did. But I’d be lying if I said I had experienced much about the place. We moved here when I was in elementary school and my life revolved around school, playing sports, and violin practice. My parents were super strict, and I left for college and didn’t really visit much.”

“What brought you back?”

I knew the instant the words left my mouth I shouldn’t have asked.

Clearly it had something to do with her ex.

“My ex-fiancé, Tristian, really wanted to live here. He grew up a few towns over and always loved it here. So when we got engaged, he convinced me to move out of Boston as this was the place we wanted to raise our family.”

“Are you going to stay?”

I noticed that she squared her shoulders before replying. “At first I wanted to leave again. But then Alice convinced me. This is my hometown, and I’ll be damned if I let him chase me away. Plus,”—she looked up at me and winked—“I’m starting to like it here.”

I grabbed her elbow and steered her toward the pizza. “You’re about to like it a lot more now.”

After buying her a second slice—she had devoured the first one before I even returned with napkins—she started to loosen up.

“Fuck, I love pizza. How did I live all my life without realizing this?”

“No idea.” I took a bite of my sausage and mushroom.

“If I go more than three days without pizza, I get depressed. You didn’t like it as a kid?

” I grew up on a steady diet of frozen pizza after school and delivery on Friday nights.

It was one of the only times my family spent time together.

We’d sit down to watch TGIF and share a pizza and a bottle of Pepsi while laughing at Steve Urkel. Pretty much nineties childhood bliss.

She shrugged, taking another bite. “I didn’t eat stuff like this as a kid.

I’ve been on a diet since I was in grade school.

The women in my family all take after my Italian grandmother.

My mom calls it the Bernardi Curse. Short with thick thighs and big boobs.

My mother trained us to fight it from an early age. ”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. I didn’t know her well enough to tell her that her mom sounded like a soulless demon, so I just kept eating and let her talk.

“She would scream at me if I ate pizza. When I would go to friends’ houses I’d just pretend I was full and eat the sliced cucumbers she used to pack me as a snack.”

I shook my head, unable to comprehend. “Fuck that. First of all, eat what you want to eat. And second, that’s pretty fucked up of your mother.”

She laughed. I guess she didn’t mind me criticizing her parents.

“Yeah. She’s kind of a shrew. I think it’s the decades of hunger.

To this day she only eats one meal per day.

Just dinner. Both my sisters told her to fuck off a long time ago and have normal relationships with food. But not me. I can’t disappoint anyone.”

“Pizza is not going to kill you, Watson. In fact, it is going to make your life a lot more fun.” This explained a lot about her and why she was wound so tightly.

Imagine being hungry all the time and feeling guilty about a slice of pizza.

No wonder she reacted so badly to the breakup.

“And also, I don’t want to overstep, but I like a girl with an appetite. ”

She narrowed her eyes. “What makes you think I give a shit about what you like?” Her tone was indignant, but I could see the corners of her mouth curling.

Ignoring her comment, I leaned closer. “I am so digging this whole bratty thing you have going on.”

She responded by taking a huge bite of pizza and giving me the finger. I took the opportunity to lean in even closer, watching her pupils dilate.

“If you weren’t still drunk,” I whispered, “I’d take you home, bend you over my knee, and spank the attitude right out of you.

She gasped and instead of punching me or storming off, I watched a deep blush consume her.

“Oh you like that?” I continued, enjoying seeing her speechless.

She looked away and crossed her legs. But she wasn’t fooling me. I knew she was as turned on as I was. A victory for the evening.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, I found myself compelled to ask the question we had been dancing around all night.

“So why’d you do it? Aside from being drunk and angry?”

She chewed for a moment, considering my question. She put her slice down on the plate and daintily dabbed at her lips with the napkin.

“I was mad. Really fucking mad. Still am, actually. And I just needed to do something. Something bad.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Not at all.” She smiled at me. “I got arrested. And under normal circumstances, that would be horrifying, but it felt good. Like I finally got to be a bad girl for once, instead of the good girl who is always trying to please everyone.”

“Sounds like you need to live a little.”

“I’ve lived plenty. I’ve just been living within the confines of a very strict, tiny box. And I’m ready to break out and embrace my inner bad girl.”

Her face was lit up, and she was sitting on the edge of her seat. She really was strikingly beautiful, and combined with her attitude, I was smitten.

“As an officer of the law, I should try to dissuade you from a life of crime.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’m done with petty crime. I’m a fucking brilliant accountant. If I wanted to break bad, I’d be laundering money expertly for an international crime syndicate, not wasting my talents on vandalism in this sleepy-ass town.”

I laughed, almost choking on my pizza. “I would expect nothing less.”

“But I think I just want to do some other bad-girl things, you know? Embrace this new side of me.”

“Like what?”

She paused for a moment and then started listing things off on her fingers. Clearly she had given this a lot of thought.

“I really want a tattoo. I’ve always wanted one, and as a bonus, my parents would flip out. And I already checked one item off my list.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup. Have a one-night stand with a hot stranger. Thanks for the help, by the way.”

I grabbed a napkin and a pen. “Here,” I said, handing it to her. “Your bad-girl list.”

She smiled and looked at what I had written in my messy scrawl. I handed her the pen and she squinted at the paper while tapping it against her temple. She leaned down and wrote a few more things before handing me the piece of paper.

“Keep me honest?” She winked at me, and I wanted to lean in and take her plump bottom lip between my teeth. I watched as she tucked her dark hair behind her ear, wishing I had the balls to make a move but knowing I couldn’t.

“You’re going out with me tomorrow,” I said, tucking the paper carefully into my wallet.

She shook her head with confusion. “Really?”

“Yes. I’m taking you on a date. A real one. We will be sober and talk and consume food.”

She lowered her voice and smiled. “And then you’ll spank me?”

I swallowed, trying to suppress all the desires bubbling to the surface of my brain. “If you behave, I’ll think about it. What else do you want to do?”

“I want to be braver—like stop caring what people think. Talk about periods in public, tell people off who are rude, that kind of thing. Stop trying to be perfect and worry about what everyone thinks of me.”

I nod. I’ve never had those urges, so it’s hard to empathize, but I can see how she’s been held back by this need to present an image of perfection to the world.

“Fourth, I wanted to get drunk. But I’ve already done that. First, on the night I attacked Tristian’s car.”

“Wait.” I ran my hands through my hair, needing to do something to tame the sexual frustration bubbling up inside me. “That was the first time you’d been drunk?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus. You really have been too well-behaved.”

She threw her hands up dramatically. “Wow. Even Officer Goody Two-Shoes thinks I’m boring. Shit.”

“Sweetheart, it’s Sergeant Goody Two-Shoes, and no, you’re not remotely boring. Maybe a bit uptight, but nothing I can’t fix.”

“You can fix me? Oh please. I offered to go home with you tonight.”

I pulled her close, until she was between my legs. I needed to feel the heat of her body and touch her. I ran my fingers along her jawline, never breaking eye contact.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked quietly.

I leaned in closer.

“I usually do hold back. I never say what I think. But around you, I just can’t help being my real self. It’s funny how I’m only a bad girl when you’re around.”

I growled. Did she know what she was doing to me? “I like it. You’re bad, but only for me. Fuck, that’s hot.”

She leaned back and scoffed. “You didn’t want me, remember? I took my shot.”

I pressed a finger to her lips, not wanting to hear another word.

“Stop right there, and let me say something. I want you. I want you badly. I want to take you home to my place, spank the bratty attitude right out of you, and then let you ride my face until morning. But instead I’m going to drive you home, make sure you get in safely, and then come back tomorrow for the date you promised me. ”