“I like ‘Josephine’ better. Fits you.” His hand goes to my shoulder, picking up the end of my ponytail as he twirls the black strands around his finger.

What.

The.

Fuck.

I don’t think I’ve ever twirled my hair, and the fact that I like him touching me bothers me. I bat his hand away, pretending to be annoyed. “How do you even know that name? Everyone calls me ‘Joey.’” I give my best stink-eye, which seems to have no effect on him, either. Normally, men scurry off when I give it, but I don’t think Sheriff Law has scurried from anything in his entire life.

“I know a lot of things about you.” His tone makes it sound like we’ve been intimate, like he knows every part of my body. It’s completely untrue, unless he can see through my clothes with all that staring he’s been doing.

“You stalking me?” I push my shoulders back, trying to make myself bigger, but my stature is dwarfed by his broad frame. I take a step into him, thinking he’ll retreat at my aggression, but he doesn’t. In fact he leans in a little more, making me feel the heat of his body.

“If stalking you is thinking about you every night while I stroke my cock and cumming with the sweet name ‘Josephine’ on my lips, then yeah, I’ve been stalking. I’ve been stalking the fuck out of you since I moved back here.”

All the blood rushes to my face, and I can feel it turning bright red. I’ve been around men my whole life who say the nastiest shit, and never once have I blushed. I’m used to it, and sometimes I even add a few jokes of my own. Being around my older brothers and working in an auto shop, there probably isn’t a thing I haven’t heard. What I’ve never heard is that filthy talk directed at me.

No, not me. Joey the tomboy who fits in better with the boys. Joey the chick who doesn’t know shit about being a chick.

“I can’t believe you said that.” The words leave my mouth breathily. I should shove my knee right in his balls, but I find myself wanting to touch him there, just not with my knee.

“That’s nothing compared to the things I’ve thought about doing to you, my sweet Josephine.”

“I’m not sweet,” I bite out. “Or yours, for the matter.”

He leans down, like he’s inhaling my scent. “Oh yeah, you’re sweet all right. You smell like sticky cotton candy on a warm summer day. Probably taste like it, too.”

“That’s grease you smell, jackass.” I want the words to come out mean, but they sound more like a tease. What is he doing to me?

“Go out with me,” he says, ignoring my statement. I’m just not buying it. Why now? We’ve both been in this town together for over a year, and this is the first time we’ve ever so much as talked. “Why are you asking me out now? Run out of local pussy and now you’re digging the bottom of the barrel? Thanks, but no thanks.”

I turn to leave, making the retreat that I didn’t want to make. I wanted him to back down, to get out of my space, but that clearly wasn’t happening. I’m in way over my head, and a little pissed, too. It burns that I’ve wanted him since he showed up in this town, but never once has he made a move. Now out of nowhere he’s all up my ass wanting to go out. Something stinks, and I don’t want any part of it, no matter what my body is begging to do. It’s not like I want him to actually do all those things he said he wanted to do to me. Nope, I lie to myself.

He grabs me by the waist, pulling me back to him, and my body embarrassingly melts into his. I can’t help loving the feeling of having him pressed up against me. My body is enjoying the physical contact so much, it almost makes me want to cry. The loneliness I’ve felt comes rushing forward, crashing against my chest, and reminding me how long it’s been since someone held me.

“The only pussy I’ve thought about is yours.” He flips the word ‘pussy’ off his tongue like he’s pissed he has to use the word. Which is crazy because not minutes ago he said cruder stuff to me. “In fact, I thought about it so fucking much I can’t seem to get my goddamn job done. I’m finished waiting, so I might as well take it now. Maybe after I get you under me, I can have some sanity and actually finish doing what I came here to do.”

“No.” The word has absolutely no power behind it. Something’s wrong with me. I’m broken. I’m letting him manhandle me, and I’m not even fighting it. Fuck. I don’t want to fight it. Why should I? I’m a twenty-two-year-old virgin whose body is screaming for some physical attention. Maybe it’s time to pull off the virgin Band-Aid. Maybe he’s looking for a good time, a roll in the sack, and needs to get me out of his system. Why I’m in his system to begin with, I have no idea, but maybe this could work. I see how other women in the town look at him. They flirt with him all the time, but I’ve always just seen him be professional. Until now. I like the idea that maybe I’ve made him crack, even if it isn’t true.

“I’ll cuff you and take you to the station until you agree.” He leans in to whisper into my ear. “Or just wait for everyone to leave the station and eat your pussy until you agree.” He takes my earlobe into his mouth, sucking it, then giving it a little bite. A moan escapes my lips, loving the sensation.

“Fuck. Don’t make that sound when we’re in public.” He lets go of me, and then I remember we’re standing in the middle of town, beside the diner. I look around, but no one seems to be looking our way or paying attention. Not much is going on.