Sheriff’s Secret Read online

  My nuts tighten and I come hard. He collapses against me. We’re a sweaty, sticky mess. Gripping his hips, I gently lift him so he slides off my softening dick. I yank off the condom and tie it off before pulling him back against me.

  “We should shower,” I murmur, inhaling his pine scent.

  “In a minute. I want to stay just like this for a while.”

  An alarm goes off somewhere in the house, jerking me awake. I’m twisted in a tangle of limbs, half naked and sticky. Images of last night come flooding back. It felt damn good to have that part of Jax. I’m eager to fuck him again and again and again.

  “Your alarm is going off in the bedroom,” I murmur. “Wake up, baby.”

  Baby.

  Fuck, I want him to be.

  But we’re a weekend fling gone wrong, right?

  Maybe I can do this. Maybe we can be relationship material.

  “Let me take you to breakfast.” I kiss his neck. “Let’s get showered.”

  “Coming. Get it hot for me.”

  I chuckle as I climb off the couch and make it to his bedroom. The shower is long and hot, but he never joins me, which means he passed back out. Quickly, I dry off and redress. When I make it to the living room, he’s wearing a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, sipping on coffee.

  I lift a brow, smirking at him. “You forgot to shower—”

  “You parked in the driveway,” he blurts out, unable to meet my stare. “I thought we agreed you’d park near the beach.”

  All the warmth and happy feelings are cooled.

  “In case you don’t remember, you were drunk last night,” I spit out, snagging my coat off the chair.

  “I remember everything about last night,” he snaps back. “You should have moved your car.”

  My hackles rise. “Excuse the fuck out of me for taking care of you.”

  “I don’t need you to take care of me,” he throws back. “I just need you to follow the rules of our arrangement.”

  I yank my coat on and storm over to him. “The rules? Jaxson, you broke the goddamn rules when you let this thing go on past the weekend.”

  “You know what this is—”

  “I know exactly what this was,” I grind out, my tone icy. “It was a weekend fuck that went on way too long. But don’t worry, Sheriff, your secret is safe with me because this thing is over. I’m not some teenage boy questioning his sexuality. I’m a gay man who’s down for a good fuck, but I’m not down for this.”

  I storm out the front door, ignoring the guilt shining in his eyes. I’ve barely made it out to my car when I notice my tires have been slashed.

  Unbelievable.

  “Fuck!” I roar, kicking the front of my car. “Who the hell did this?”

  Jax runs out, barefoot despite the freezing ass cold, but in sheriff mode. “Don’t touch anything.”

  He rushes back inside. A few minutes later, he’s completely dressed, his phone pressed to his ear. “See you in five.”

  “Brie?”

  “She’s going to come take pictures,” he grunts out.

  Time drags on, neither of us speaking. The wind is harsh and bitter, just like the thoughts whipping around in my head.

  “Dante, I…” Jax’s voice cracks. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

  “It needed to be said. All of it.”

  “No,” he argues, gripping my arm. “Listen. I fucked up, okay? It was wrong of me to say what I said. I care about you. This thing between us, I want it. I want it to be more than just a weekend fuck.”

  A car rounds the corner onto his street. Jax drops his hand like my arm is a hot stove.

  “Nah,” I clip out. “I don’t think you want that at all. This is the end, Jax. Now do what you have to do with Brie so I can go home and scrub this shit from my mind.”

  “Dante—”

  “I said we’re done. Please respect my fucking wishes.”

  I swallow down the pain clawing up my chest and force a smile for Brie. I’m not sure how Jax will talk his way out of this one, but it doesn’t matter anymore. We’re done. It’ll be difficult to pretend I don’t have feelings for Jaxson Bell. Eventually, my brain will convince my heart. For now, I just have to convince Brie.

  Jaxson

  I fucked up.

  Royally.

  Why did I say that shit to him?

  My heart aches as I watch Dante walk through the doors of the B&B. Brie reaches over and pats my thigh.

  “Are we going to talk about what’s going on with you, Jax?” she asks.

  I flinch, closing my eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about anymore.”

  “Oh, honey,” she murmurs. “Come here.”

  My nerves are frayed and my emotions are out of control, not to mention I have a hangover from hell. I willingly let my friend hug me in a soothing way that makes me think maybe everything might be okay one day.

  It’s a lie.

  Nothing feels okay.

  Everything hurts and it’s all my fault.

  My lashes are wet, so I squeeze my eyes shut tight, clinging to Brie like she’s a lifeline. I can’t vocalize what it is I want to say, so hugging her will have to do. Maybe she can hear all the unspoken words bouncing around in the vehicle. The drive over here from my place to Dante’s was quite telling—tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

  “Are you two…” She trails off.

  “Not anymore.” My voice is raspy and barely audible.

  “I’m so sorry.” Her hands rub calming circles on my back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I shake my head.

  “It’s his loss,” she coos.

  “It was my fault,” I croak. “If my father finds out…the people of this town…I just, I can’t deal with that.”

  “Not that it’s their business, I understand your worry. The townspeople are nosy and opinionated.”

  “It was just a secret fling to scratch an itch, you know?”

  “I know all about those,” she grumbles. “Sometimes the itch doesn’t go away, though, and lingers, right?”

  I pull away and lean back in my seat, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. “Whenever he’d come over, I’d make him park at the Caper Beach parking lot. So no one would see.”

  “Oh, honey…”

  “After last night, he took me home and parked in the driveway.” I pause, remembering the way he fucked me. How exhilarating it felt to have him there. “It was great until the next morning when I woke up. He was showering when I heard something outside. I was distracted by the fact that his car was sitting in my driveway.”

  Throwing my hands into the air, I jerk my head her way, pain contorting my features.

  “I, uh, I yelled at him when he came out. Told him he broke the rules. I was such a fucking asshole, Brie.” My eyes burn and I swallow down the emotion. “You should have seen his face. He broke the rules, but I broke his heart. Right then. I saw it in his eyes. Once I did it, I didn’t know how to undo it.”

  She reaches over and takes my hand. “First of all, we’re going to get some breakfast in you. Once you’ve had your coffee and calories to drive away that hangover, you’re going to have to do some soul searching. And if Dante is who you want to be with, then you need to choose him.”

  “I have chosen him,” I argue. “I can’t un-choose him. He’s it for me.”

  “No, sweetie,” she says, her eyes hardening in that cop way that has some of the locals withering when she gets on their case. “You chose yourself. Your feelings. Your fears. Your reservations. Your past.”

  Her words are a knife to my gut. Now that I’ve been punctured by them, life drains out of me quicker than I know what to do about it. I’m gaping at her, stunned by her cold, hard dose of reality she served as an appetizer to breakfast.

  “But—”

  “You don’t have to convince me,” she blurts out. “I know how your dad is and how the townspeople are. And, honestly, you don’t even have to convince Dante. I’m sure he knew h
ow into him you were. You’re going to have to convince yourself that you don’t give a shit about this town or your dad. You have to give a shit about yourself so you can get your man back.”

  I let out a ragged sigh and nod. “I don’t know how.”

  “You’ll figure it out. In the meantime, let’s focus on one thing at a time. Breakfast.”

  As she pulls out of the driveway, I stare at the B&B, wishing I had the balls to give Dante what he needs—wishing I could run back in there and claim him as mine.

  Unfortunately, I don’t.

  I reluctantly turn my head and try like hell to figure out how I’ll get him back.

  “Oh my God,” Brie complains from her desk. “Just call him already.”

  It’s been three days since he left my house and I haven’t spoken to him. The more time passes, the more stressed out it makes me. I want to tell him how I feel, but if he really is done with me, I’m not sure how I’ll take that information. Not knowing is almost better than discovering the truth.

  “I’m busy trying to find the BFB Stalker,” I grumble, ignoring her as I flip through the pictures in Dante’s file of reports. “There haven’t been any new reports, but I feel like maybe I’ve missed something.”

  Brie stands from her desk and walks over to me, hands on her narrow hips. “Finding the person who’s been terrorizing your ex won’t suddenly gain you favor to win him back. You need to woo him.”

  “Go away.” I roll my eyes at her, not looking away from the folder.

  She smacks me in the head. “I’m serious, dumbass! Get off your ass and invite him to dinner or something. Don’t be like this.”

  My heart clenches painfully at seeing him again. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Actually, idiot, it is.” She huffs and shakes her head. “You’re the most difficult man I know, and that’s saying something because I’m dating Hank Townsend.”

  The mention of his name has me flinching. “You, uh, didn’t tell him about me, right?”

  She throws her box of tissues at me and I barely duck out of the way. “I promised you I wouldn’t say anything,” she gripes. “You have issues, Sheriff.”

  Her words are said playfully, but I can tell there is some truth to them. It’s official, the man who’s in charge of protecting the community is scared shitless of relationships and their repercussions. Shameful.

  “You’re right,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll text him.”

  She grins at me, her eyes lighting up. “About damn time. You’ve got this.”

  The phone rings and Brie answers—another Rainbow Vigilante hit by the sound of it—so I pull my phone out to text Dante. My fingers hover over the screen, trying like hell to figure out what to say to him. Finally, I bite the bullet, tapping out a message and hitting send before I can rethink it.

  Me: Can we maybe have dinner together to talk?

  Silence.

  I stare at the phone long after Brie ends her call, even while Cato chases a wet Pomeranian around the station, and even after Brie locks up for the evening. After hours of no reply, I realize I’ve lost him. I make it all the way home and finish up a quiet meal with Zak before Dante eventually replies.

  Dante: Maybe I’ll run into you at Blur.

  It’s a challenge.

  Am I desperate enough to walk into a gay bar to see him?

  Yes.

  Me: Maybe you will.

  Quickly, I rush to my bedroom and find something to wear. I want to look fucking hot so he’ll have no way of resisting me. Once I find my best pair of jeans, boots, and a fitted black Henley that makes my biceps look like they’re bulging, I take the time to style my hair and spritz on some cologne. If my eyes didn’t look so sad, I’d look like a man trying to get laid. The truth is, I just want to hold Dante in my arms again.

  Fifteen minutes later and I’m walking into Focus. My intention was to waltz straight into Blur, but I need a little liquid courage. I seat myself at the bar, watching Kian in his element as he laughs with one of the patrons. When he sees me, his eyes light up and a grin splits across his face. That expression used to undo me. Now, all I feel is a nostalgic warmth, nothing like the fire Dante incites inside me.

  “The other night wasn’t embarrassing enough?” Kian asks in greeting. “A glutton for punishment, are we?”

  I chuckle, shaking my head. “A beer will do just fine.”

  He winks at me before walking away, making sure to shake his ass. Other patrons take notice, but my gaze quickly skims the bar, hoping I might see Dante here instead. Unfortunately, he’s nowhere to be found.

  I make it through three beers, feeling buzzed but not drunk, before I gather the nerve to pay my tab and head next door. I slap a couple of twenties down, giving Kian a quick wave. He holds up a finger before leaving the bar area to come over to me.

  “You okay? You seem down,” he says, his hazel eyes glittering. “I’m a good listener.”

  I give him a warm smile. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “You’re different lately.” He peers at me from beneath his lashes in that way that used to make me think he was the most beautiful person to walk the earth. “It’s a good different.”

  “I feel different,” I admit. “I, uh, like someone. Really like them. Just trying to keep them, you know? I have a bad rep for letting the good things in my life slip through my fingers.”

  Rare vulnerability shines in his eyes. “Yeah, you have a bad history of that.” He bites on his bottom lip. “That person is lucky.”

  “Thanks, Kian.” I rub at the back of my neck. “Listen, I’m sorry about high school. I was scared shitless and I fucked up back then, but…”

  He waves me off and rolls his eyes, his sadness gone as his sass springs back into place. “We both know I was always too good for you.”

  I know it hurt him more than he lets on, but I nod anyway, letting him avoid those feelings with his sarcasm. “You’re probably right.”

  “Don’t be stupid this time, though.” He levels me with a hard glare. “If they’re worth it, find a way to make them see that.”

  I tip my head in acknowledgement at him before making my way next door. The club music is loud and the lights are pulsating with the beat, colorful and vibrant. There’s a huge crowd of people, most of which I don’t recognize much to my relief. It’s still hard to swallow down the fear that my dad might peek around the corner ready to bust me for being in a gay dance club.

  He’s not here.

  And I don’t care.

  I’ll keep telling myself that over and over again if it actually makes me believe it. I’m thankful for the small bit of alcohol buzzing through my veins. It’s enough that I feel relaxed, but I’m not sloppy like a few nights ago.

  I scan the dance floor, looking for Dante. When my eyes settle on the hottest guy out there, flames lick at my cheeks, chasing fire down to my dick. That is, until I see who Dante is dancing with. It’s not that I know the guy or anything, it’s just that they’re dancing too close for my comfort. Jealous rage clouds up inside me, toxic and suffocating.

  Dante is mine.

  I stalk through the crowd, pushing past people, eager to pluck the twink who’s grinding his ass against my man’s dick away from him. I reach them, and like his eyes are used to seeking me out, Dante’s stare finds mine—hot, challenging, villainous.

  “My turn,” I tell the cute twink.

  The twink pouts for a second but then gets swept into another man’s arms. I stand in front of Dante, stock-still. Neither of us is moving as the sea of people sways back and forth to the beat.

  “Fancy running into you here,” Dante says, mischief gleaming in his hazel orbs that seem to glow red under the lights.

  “Can we talk?”

  “I’d rather dance.” He smirks, moving his hips in a taunting way that has all the blood in my body flooding to my dick.

  I snag his wrist, guiding him through the dancing bodies to a darkened corner near a speaker. It’s too loud to talk, but t
hat doesn’t matter. He wants to dance. I’ll fucking dance. His eyes widen when I wrap my arms around his neck, my nose grazing against his. I roll my hips, rubbing against his dick that’s every bit as hard as mine. His eyes flash with hunger as his palms find my ass, hauling me to him. With our bodies smashed together, I feel at home.

  God, I’ve missed him.

  We begin moving in sync to the music, rubbing our aching cocks against one another while burning holes into each other with matching heated stares. All it takes is for him to lick his bottom lip to have me chasing after his tongue. He groans against my lips, clearly surprised by my kiss. I kiss him eagerly, trying to convey everything I want to say to him.

  I’m sorry.

  Please take me back.

  I can be better for you.

  His kisses almost taste like forgiveness. Almost is better than pure denial. He slides a hand up over my ass and beneath my shirt. The warmth of his skin on mine has me moaning. I want him so bad. Not because I want to fuck, but because I want to love. I want so much more than a simple way to get off. I want him.

  “Dante,” I murmur. “I’m sorry.”

  He pushes my ass against the speaker. “I know.”

  Our kiss grows more and more heated. Dante grips my ass, lifting me enough to set me on the edge of the speaker. On instinct, I hook a leg around him, needing to be entwined with him as much as possible.

  “Yoohoo,” a familiar voice hollers over the music. “Isn’t that against the law or something?”

  Dante releases me like I’m on fire, leaving me panting and wanting on the speaker. Cato stares at me, shock written all over his cute face.

  “I, uh, I…” I stammer, trying to find my words.

  Dante grips Cato’s shoulder and whispers something to him. They both glance around. I do the same, thankful no one else seems to be paying attention to our dark corner. Cato gives me a wave and then he’s gone. Dante stalks over to me, grabs my hand, and leans in.

  “Come home with me.”

  Despite all the unease and lingering fear that someone might’ve witnessed our make out session, I give him a nod. I’ll worry about all the repercussions later. Right now, I need to worry about our relationship because I really can’t lose Dante. Not again. I won’t.