Sinfully Theirs (Naughty Nookie Book 1) by Serena Akeroyd

Author:Serena Akeroyd [Akeroyd, Serena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-25T18:30:00+00:00

IV

…Can Be Gold

Chapter Fourteen

“Rat bastard.” It’s all I’m capable of saying. Jake’s words have come to fruition. Rousset has had the audacity of pressing assault charges against me.

Can you believe his nerve?

The sheer bloody cheek of it.

When Jake involved me in his current case, the retrieval of an artifact from a museum in Copenhagen, we’d come into contact with the fence trying to sell it on. We managed to recuperate the artifact, put Rousset the fence, in prison and achieve Jake’s goal—to learn how the criminals had entered the museum, as the local police hadn’t been able to figure out why. Dumb asses.

Because of them—okay, that isn’t strictly fair—I’m engaged in an affair with my boyfriend’s husband. And yeah, it’s as complicated as it sounds.

Fun, though.

During the case, Rousset thought it would be a wise decision to try to feel me up, as well as sexually blackmail me. Hence the assault charges. According to him, I’ve caused permanent damage to his balls after I stood on them with my stiletto heel.

My answer to that: don’t go wafting them around for every Thomasina, Ricki or Harriet to stand on.

“It won’t come to anything,” Jake soothes, lifting an arm and curling it about my shoulders.

While I’m mad, this is the first time I’ve ever even been inside a police station so I’m not averse to taking all the comfort I can. Pressing into his side, I let him embrace me and nuzzle my face against his soft throat.

Where Zane has stubble, Jake is as smooth as silk. While stubble hasn’t lost its attraction, I find I appreciate silk just as much.

Jake’s scent, his very essence is different too. Zane’s all sexy sandalwood, where Jake is lime and mint. Like a walking, talking mojito.

Lifting my head, I press a kiss to the satin-like flesh of his throat. As I do, my nose nudges his Adam’s apple and a scent that is one hundred per cent Jake permeates the air. His hands cease their comforting rub for a moment, and then the rhythm starts again. Although I’m pleased to note, that even at that very innocent stimuli, something hard nudges my hip.

Sure, it isn’t full mast. But hell, we’re standing outside a police station in the sixteenth arrondissement. Jake is as staid as I am—any visual sign of arousal is akin to a full-blown climax in the middle of the sidewalk.

The very idea has me snickering, and then he grumbles in my ear, “What are you laughing at?”

“Wouldn’t you just like to know?” I tease and with another kiss to his throat, followed by a sigh that can only be of regret, I step back and away from his hold.

As I glance up at the building behind me, the creative part of me noticing that Paris even does police stations in style, I grimace.

“Will Interpol put me on a list?”

I have to give Jake credit. He tried not to laugh, his lips twitching in an attempt to remain serious before he eventually caved in and chuckled.

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