Leveled (A Saints of Denver Novella)

I picked up my beer and narrowed my eyes at him. “Why is that?” I was the one with the sore muscles and burning tendons. I should be the one drinking for the strength to keep going, not him.

He picked his drink up and finished it all in one healthy swallow. He set the rocks glass down and stood up to dig his wallet out of his pocket. He tossed some money on the table and took a few steps so that he was standing at my elbow. I looked up at him as he bent his head down just enough that he could speak directly into my ear. A full body shiver worked its way across my skin as his voice rasped, “You are distractingly good-looking, Dominic, but I don’t date my clients, and I don’t think I could ever get involved with a cop.”

I was too stunned to react for a moment and in those few seconds he managed to push away from the table and make his way towards the door. By the time I managed to fumble my own wallet out of my back pocket and pay for my own drinks, he was out the door, but I was used to chasing down my prey even if I wasn’t as fast as I used to be. I caught up to him in the parking lot of the clinic as he was approaching a sleek-looking sports car.

I put a hand on his shoulder and was already tearing into him before he turned fully around to face me.

“I don’t know what I find more insulting, the fact that you just assume I want to date you or the fact that I’m a cop somehow makes me beneath you. You have a lot of nerve Mr. Fancy-Pants, a lot of nerve and a lot of ego.”

I was pissed and offended. I was also hurt and a little bit embarrassed. I didn’t like anything about it. Sure the guy was ridiculously attractive and I had never been drawn to anyone the way I was instantly drawn to him, but that didn’t mean I was asking him to move in together and get married. A little harmless flirting and some innocent eye-fucking shouldn’t have landed me in the shame corner and I wanted him to know it. I was opening my mouth to finish giving him a piece of my mind when I was cut off by hard hands on either of my shoulders pushing me backwards into the side of the car behind me.

I grunted at the contact and at the surprise of chilly metal against my back while my front was suddenly pressed all along a rigid and hard male body.

He might look distinguished and fancy, but he kissed rough and dirty. His hands were hard on my shoulders as he leaned into me and held me in place while his mouth moved over mine. I put a hand on the lean curve of his waist and met him move for move because I’d kissed plenty of boys in my time but never one that made my head spin to the point that it made me forget where I was.

His lips were soft, but there was hard passion behind them. He kissed me like he was angry that he wanted to kiss me, but I wasn’t going to complain about being handled like that. I liked the abrasion, liked the almost desperate way he held on to me, and I liked that he felt as solid and heavy as I did as we continued to press closer and closer together. I offered zero resistance when the tip of his tongue brushed across the seam of my lips. I let him in, in fact, I couldn’t wait to let him in and get him closer. I tugged on his waist until we were hip to hip and I felt him take in the heated gasp that escaped when I felt his arousal press against my own.

His skin was soft, almost baby smooth as our faces touched, and I found the contrast between that softness and the hardness of the rest of him alluring and exciting. His muscles were tense and hard, but they felt like they were encased in velvet and silk. I wanted to know if the rest of him felt the same way.

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