Damn it, he should’ve known better than to trust Jeff. To believe that his old buddy had actually changed. Instead, he’d given the guy a goddamn job, and that mistake could have cost him and his friends their business.

“Seriously, Reed, you can’t blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault that he—”

The wail of sirens cut her off.

Sirens that didn’t sound far away at all, but like they were coming from nearby.

Or, more accurately, from that very parking lot.

Reed froze as the red-and-blue lights shone through the windshield of their car, casting a ghostly glow over Darcy’s face. He discreetly lifted his head, then swore when he spotted the two police cars cruising through the lot.

Shit. The cops had arrived to arrest Jeff.

Which would’ve been a fantastic thing—if Reed currently wasn’t in the backseat of a car with his bare ass hanging out and his c**k still lodged inside Darcy.

“Crap,” he mumbled. “Don’t make a single sound, Darce.”

Obedience was too much to hope for.

Darcy took one look at the flashing lights, opened her mouth, and howled with laughter.

“Oh my God,” she sputtered between giggles. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Reed was forced to clamp his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.

He doubted the officers could hear them, but damn it, he had no desire to get arrested for lewd conduct. On the one occasion he’d had the misfortune of landing in lockup—after a citation for public intoxication he and some fighting buddies were slapped with back when he was twenty—Reed had vowed to become a model citizen. Jail cells were too damn claustrophobic, and he’d be damned if he’d ever feel trapped like that again.

A minute ticked by, then another, until finally the lights on the police cruisers shut off. Footsteps thudded from the far end of the lot, near the club’s back door. Male voices, more footsteps, doors slamming, and then the night was quiet again.

Reed carefully held the condom in place as he withdrew from Darcy’s tight sheath. “I think the coast is clear.”

Humor continued to dance in her eyes. “Am I a total weirdo for kind of wishing they’d caught us?”

“Yes.” His response was swift and unequivocal.

“We would’ve gotten off with a warning,” she protested. “Think of what a great story it could’ve made. All my friends have these awesome stories to tell, but nothing exciting ever happens to me.”

This sure as hell qualified as exciting. He had to give her that.

Reed tucked the condom and torn package in his pocket, wincing as he pictured the mess it would make.

“I’m sure we can find some equally exciting things to do that don’t result in us being arrested,” he said ruefully.

She heaved out a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”

Darcy wiggled into her pants and climbed back in the front seat, while Reed exited the car through the back door and then walked over to her window. She started the engine before rolling down the window, flashing him a beautiful smile that made his heart skip a beat. “See you tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he corrected. “I’ll stop by around nine to look at your cheek.”

Darcy grumbled. “My cheek is just fine. I doubt there’ll even be a bruise. You really don’t have to—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He leaned in to brush his lips over hers in a brief kiss, then marched off before she could argue again.

Chapter Twelve

Darcy opened the front door the next morning and found Reed standing behind it, one hand poised to knock.

“Hey,” she squeaked, startled to see him. “What are you doing here?”

His expression was half amused, half smug. “I told you I’d come by to check on you.” He glanced at his watch. “Huh, nine o’clock on the dot. I’m not usually so punctual.”

She stifled a sigh. “I didn’t think you were serious. And you didn’t even call beforehand.”

“Of course I didn’t. Because we had prearranged plans.” He flashed an arrogant look, then stepped forward and cupped her face with his hands.

She decided to humor him, allowing him to gently sweep his thumb over her skin as he examined her cheek. That crazy bouncer’s elbow hadn’t even left a mark, just like she’d known it wouldn’t. But the way Reed’s eyes clouded over, you’d think she’d been sporting a huge purple bruise.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not in the slightest,” she answered cheerfully. “Hence the complete lack of bruising, Reedford.”

“Don’t hence me,” he chided. “I’m not the one who took a hit to the face last night.”

“You did take a hit to the face! And you almost got strangled to death. I’m the one who should be putting my hands all over you to make sure you’re okay.”

He let his arms dangle at his sides, his expression epitomizing innocence. “Oh, I have no complaints about that. Please, put your hands all over me.”

Jeez, the man was incorrigible. Darcy wondered if he purposely transmitted all that sexual energy, or if it just happened naturally. Either way, the end result remained the same—every time she saw him, she wanted to jump his bones.

When she didn’t take the bait, Reed gestured to the empty canvas bags tucked over her purse. “Where are you headed?”