Pushing His Luck - Rhyannon Byrd Page 0,6

was to go punching a wall or some other adolescent shit that would have everyone on his case. His partner, Michael Hunter, wouldn’t let that kind of thing go without getting to the bottom of it, wanting to know what had him so twisted up he was letting it get to him at the precinct.

His job was his life, and there weren’t many things that could get under Paul’s skin or worry him to the point that it took over his mind while he was working.

His family was one.

His partner, who was as good a guy as Sean and their cousin Jonah, was another.

And now, apparently, Karin-Fucking-Riley had joined the group.

The first time Paul had met her, she’d been sitting on her own at a table at Manolo’s, talking with Natalie, and he’d been fucking floored by how naturally gorgeous she was, with her wavy, sable-colored hair that looked so fucking soft his fingers had actually itched to touch it, which sounded lame as shit, but had been weirdly true. And those big brown eyes that had blinked up at him, startled and wide, as if she’d felt the same sizzling shock of attraction that had been jolting through him. Not to mention that incredible mouth, her lips full and pink and so deliciously soft-looking, he’d spent way too many minutes since that afternoon fantasizing about having them wrapped around his dick.

Then she’d replied to his introduction, looking a little dazed as she’d said, “I’m, um, Karin,” and her husky voice had sent fucking chills down his spine. And when she’d caught her full lower lip in her teeth and stared up at him with a shy look of hunger, his cock had gotten so fucking hard he’d had to slide into the opposite side of the booth before he embarrassed himself. They’d spent a few minutes talking and laughing, until she’d reluctantly said she had to go. He’d hated watching her walk away, his heavy-lidded gaze glued to her ass and his jaw aching, since he’d had to lock it to keep from calling after her and asking her to stay. Knowing she was one of his brother’s neighbors, which meant it would be easy for them to run into each other again, was the only thing that had made it tolerable.

After that, every goddamn time he’d seen her, he’d wanted her a little more. And yet, he hadn’t acted on it until the night of the first bonfire. Not to sound like a prick, but the next time he’d seen her, she’d been with her little boy, and the fact that she wasn’t a woman who he could casually hook-up with, until they eventually got their fill of each other, had settled uncomfortably in his gut. She was a long-term commitment, and as intensely attracted as he was to her, he knew damn well that he wasn’t cut out for that kind of relationship.

In the past, anytime Paul had tried getting semi-serious with a woman, things had quickly crashed and burned. No female liked coming in second to a man’s job, and hell, he’d had trouble even putting them that high on his list of priorities.

And you have dick for brains if you think that would have been the case with Karin, a frustrated voice muttered in his head. He gritted his teeth, determined not to engage with the know-it-all, since he didn’t think arguing with himself would play out well on his next mandatory psych eval. And also because it was a depressing as fuck thought, seeing as how he’d blown his shot with her, no matter how you looked at it.

Leaning his head back against his desk chair, Paul closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath, wishing the Advil he’d taken would get rid of his crushing headache already. He was still just sitting there, thankful that the homicide bullpen was practically empty, which meant blessed quiet, when he heard his partner say, “Hey, man. What’s going on with you?”

Opening his eyes and looking over at Michael, whose desk faced his, he found his partner of two years giving him a worried frown as the guy lowered his tall, muscular frame into his own desk chair. “What are you talking about?”

Michael arched one dark brow. “You look like someone just kicked your puppy.”

“Don’t have a puppy.”

“You know what I mean,” Michael persisted. “Who pissed in your Wheaties?”

“Puppies and Wheaties? Christ, man, I suggest some schooling before you try any more armchair therapy.”

“Yeah? You in