“I want you, Hyacinth. Not just because you’re sexy. Not just because you were unavailable to me.”

He lets his lips fall to my cheek, sweeping down and resting at the corner of my mouth.

“I want you because you’re sweet enough to remind me that there’s still good in this world. I’m surrounded by crime and drugs and terrible shit every day. I don’t get a lot of time off and I never take leave. But you—you feel like a vacation to me every time I touch you. And I don’t want to lose that.”

Well, hell. When he puts it that way . . .

I shift my face until our lips align and I kiss him.

It’s a closed-mouth, slow kiss that I initiate at first. Then, feeling a little bolder, I let my tongue flicker out along the seam of his lips. He makes a rumbling sound deep in his chest, then circles my waist with both arms and hauls me against him.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

He devours my mouth then, letting his tongue take over and his lips play second fiddle. For the moment, I’m content to enjoy the ride, to enjoy being led instead of leading him. The truth is that I don’t want to have to be Smith’s teacher now. I think it’s about time for him to teach me a thing or two.

He buries his face in my neck, breathing hard and I tug a little on his hair until he looks up at me.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to do this here,” I say quietly.

He quirks a brow. “You think?”

“Yeah.” I smile. “Probably not appropriate.”

“Hmm.” He places a finger against his lips as though he’s pondering a thought. “Then how about this: I’m going to go finish up my debriefing, and then I’ll come pick you up at your house.”

“Pick me up for what?”

He grins. “For our first date.”

“First date, huh?”

“Yep.” He nods. “A totally legit, real-as-shit date. You should wear a dress. It’ll be that kind of night.”

I let my eyes run over his body and the crisp blue shirt and black pants he’s rocking beneath his badge.

“Are you going to wear your uniform?”

His smile turns wickedly knowing, and he leans in a little closer. “Do you want me to wear my uniform?”

I shrug, trying and failing to look nonchalant. “Maybe.”

“We’ll it is my duty to protect and serve you.” He kisses me then, long and slow, before pulling away. “So, I’ll see you at your house—give me an hour or so.”

I nod. “I’ll be there.”

He gives me a sexy little smile.

“So . . . should I bring my handcuffs, too?”

I eye him then. “Don’t push it, Officer Asher.”

He winks at me before I head out the door. “Of course not, Miss Hendricks. I would hate to get another detention.”

Chapter Seventeen

Commencement

I guess you define some dates by dinner. Or a movie. Our first official date was a really long walk.

“Do you think it’s cliché to head to the harbor for a first date?” Smith asks as we round the corner of the Baltimore Aquarium. We stop for a second to watch a few boats nearby as they rocked gently in their slips. I smile at him, then shake his head.

“Nope. Not at all.” Smith’s mouth kicks up on one side. “Damn. I was sort of going for literary standards here—walk on the water, kissing in the moonlight. All that bullshit.”

I laugh as he puts both hands on my waist and brings me closer to him.

“I’m not sure the word ‘bullshit’ usually factors into the sweeping romances of literature.”

He shrugs, still smiling.

“I guess we’re just breaking the mold then, Hyacinth.”

I grin up at him. “I guess so.”

When I rock up on my toes to kiss Smith Asher—in public, in front of people—it feels as magical as any fairy tale.

“So, now what? Any requests?” Smith’s voice is gruff, and when I look at him, he shoots me a sexy half smile.

I shrug a little, feeling my cheeks redden, and I’m glad that we’re in the mostly-dark of the evening.

“Honestly?”

“Sure.”

“I’d love to head back to my apartment . . . ,” I say, fiddling with my purse strap. Smith wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him again.

“Your wish is my command.”

The drive back to my place is quiet. There’s low music playing on the radio but I’m not paying one bit of attention. My entire body feels attuned to Smith’s—so much so that when we finally park outside my apartment, I honestly think I might actually burst into flames. Instead, he opens his door and gets out of the truck, coming around to the passenger’s side to open my door, too. I slide out and he immediately cages me in against the side of the truck.

“Let me be clear, Hyacinth Hendricks. I have every intention of staying here all night. And I have every intention of not letting you sleep while I’m here. I’m going to do every single thing I can think of to you, with you, and for you.”

Smith runs a finger along the deep V of my dress’s collar and rests it just above my cleavage.

“So, before we head upstairs,” he murmurs, leaning in closer to my ear, “I want to clarify that this is an acceptable course of action.”

I swallow hard, then lick my lips.

“Lead the way.”

His grin is a thousand watts when he tilts back to look in my eyes.

“You know what? There is nowhere in the world I’d rather be than right here, right now, with you.”

And I actually believe him. Smith’s done his best to be honest with me, or as honest as he can be, about his job. He told me about growing up with Eric and how much he wanted to be like him. He explained what it’s like to work undercover and how he had to “drop out” of Franklin to really get J. D. to trust him.

“I needed to be like him,” he’d sort of growled. “And that was the hardest part. After what he did to you—all I wanted to do every second I was near him was punch his fucking lights out.”

But, right now, neither of us is thinking about J. D. Fenton or undercover operatives or anything but each other. I climb the stairs to my floor and I swear I can feel his gaze, branding me with his hot stare. I want to squirm, want to crawl out of my clothes as soon as I walk in the apartment door.

But I don’t. Instead, I unlock it, push it open, and stop dead in my tracks.

Holy. Shit.

There are hyacinths everywhere.

They’re in pots along the kitchen pass-through. They’re in jars and vases around the living room. There’s even a small plant next to the front door.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Smith slips in front of me and tilts my chin up to look at him.

“Happy Graduation, Cyn.”

I blink at him. “You did this?”

He shrugs. “Carson helped a lot actually—when you and Rainey left for the ceremony, she let me in to arrange them.”

I pivot slowly in a circle, taking in everything—every blossom, every stem—and I have to blink back tears.

“Is it too much?”

I glance over my shoulder at Smith, who looks a little worried now. I shake my head.

“Are you kidding?”

I walk toward him and wrap my arms around his waist. He pulls me closer, and for a long moment we just stand there, wrapped up in each other and breathing the same spring-scented air.

“It’s perfect,” I finally say, my words muffled against his shirt. “You’re perfect.”

He snorts softly, then pulls back to look down at me. “Not even close, baby. But you make me want to be.”

He dips his head then and captures my mouth with his. I let my hands slide up his sides and over his shoulders. The muscles flex beneath my fingertips and I sigh into his mouth.

Smith sort of groans then and takes my mouth with even more vigor, reminding me of exactly what tonight is going to entail. His tongue flicks against my lips, questing inside and tasting everything I have to offer him. I press against him, my breasts feeling heavy and full, and I let the friction between our bodies only extend that aching need.