|"Setting the Trap"
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
Category: Unconventional Couples
Authors Note: Tess POV, follow-up to “Minefield”.
|Tess watched with an inner smile as the sheriff ate his breakfast across from her while trying to avoid looking at her. Kyle sat to her
right, munching away at a bowl of Wheaties, completely oblivious to his father’s nervousness. Tess wasn’t oblivious, though. She
wondered what Kyle would think if he found out what she and his father had been doing last night.
She liked the sheriff’s discomfort. It made her feel strangely safe. It made her feel powerful. She knew that with one look, one touch, she could bring him to his knees. This time the smile reached her lips. She saw the sheriff reach for the butter, so she reached for the sugar bowl at the same time. She brushed her fingers casually, deliberately, softly against his and smirked when he jerked his hand away.
Kyle noticed and glanced curiously at his dad. The sheriff mumbled an apology, but as soon as Kyle looked away, the sheriff sent her a warning look. That look told her to be careful. That look told her that there might be consequences if she didn’t back off. Too bad. Tess didn’t feel like being careful. She didn’t feel like being warned. She certainly didn’t feel like backing off. So she sent the sheriff an image of the two of them writhing naked together on top of the kitchen table while Kyle calmly watched and ate his cereal.
The sheriff jumped as if he’d been stung, bumping the table hard and sending several dishes crashing to the floor.
Kyle yelped in surprise. “Christ, Dad! What the hell’s wrong with you today?” Kyle bent to start picking things off the floor.
“Sorry about that, son. Listen, Kyle, I know you’ve got football practice this morning. Why don’t you go ahead? I’m sure Tess won’t mind helping me clean up this mess.”
Kyle looked at Tess and shrugged, grabbed his things and headed for the door.
Tess knelt on the floor and started picking up pieces of glass. She felt the sheriff move toward her but didn’t look up at him until he reached down and grabbed her wrist. She looked up and found herself staring into electric blue eyes that were definitely shooting off some sparks. Well good. She liked sparks.
“This has got to stop, Tess. What happened last night can’t happen again.”
“ It can’t?” Tess gave him her best innocent look and reached out and stroked his cheek.
The sheriff flinched away from her touch as if she’d burned him. “It can’t and it won’t.” He started to move away, but this time Tess grabbed his wrist. She wasn’t finished yet. Max had shut her down, pretended he didn’t want her. She wouldn’t let the sheriff do that to her. She was in control here, not him. She stared into his eyes for what seemed like hours, willed him to touch her. And when he still wouldn’t give in, she pulled his hand to her chest so that it cupped her breast.
It was enough. Finally, it was enough. He pulled her up and sat her on the table. She pulled his head down so she could kiss him. His tongue delved into her waiting mouth. He ripped open her shirt and pushed her skirt up to her waist. She unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. She pushed them down until he was bare from his knees to his waist.
She reveled in the feel of his hands, like sandpaper rubbing her skin raw, the tickle of his hairy legs brushing the inside of her thighs. And when he thrust up into her, she cried out in pleasure and triumph. She’d won. She’d caught him.
When it was over, and the sheriff’s sweat-soaked body laid over hers, he tenderly brushed a wet curl away from her face and whispered, “I’m sorry.” Tess shook her head, denying the need for sorry. Why should either of them be sorry? But she suddenly felt tears well up in her eyes and slide down her cheeks. She felt the sheriff brush them away with his fingers and then gently gather her in his arms.
And as she sat crying in his arms, she finally stopped to wonder who exactly she’d been setting out to trap this morning—the sheriff or herself?
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