Gambling with Love 8 Book Series

Tyler Evans



Jesus, she was beautiful. A heart-stopping, pin-up centerfold, kind of beautiful. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from where she was standing several yards back from my cruiser. I knew with the sunlight reflecting on the car she couldn’t see inside, but I could see her just fine. 
Her name was Lauren Jefferson, based on the driver’s license I held in my hand. Twenty-years-old, blonde hair, green eyes, five-six, one hundred fifteen pounds, and an organ donor. The only thing wrong with this sweet sexy girl was her address. She lived in an apartment in the absolute worst part of town. The idea of this gorgeous woman stepping foot in that neighborhood made me want to shoot someone. Like maybe the fucker that was so self-absorbed that he ran the light and totaled her car. She said she wasn’t hurt, but I'd bet she'd wake up in the morning sore. 
Looking over the rest of her body, she looked fine, hell, more than fine. I'd have to sit here in my car and wait for my cock to settle down before I could climb out again. 
The tow trucks had been called and were on the way, so I’d be forced to get out soon. Poor girl, maybe she’d let me give her a lift somewhere, or better yet... I pulled out my department issued cell phone and called the jackass’s insurance company to try and pull some strings. 
“Yes, this is Officer Tyler Evans with the Greensboro Police Department. I’m calling to verify the insurance for a Mr. James Allen, policy number 105598.” 
When the agent confirmed he did, in fact, have up to date insurance with them, I informed them of the accident and inquired whether or not his policy included a car rental. The asshole's did, so I requested that they set it up for the victim, which they kindly agreed to have ready within the hour. I knew the gesture wasn't from the goodness of their hearts, but an attempt to ward off an injured motorist claim. Either way, it worked out great for her. 


For some reason, I couldn't help but worry about this girl. She just looked so innocent and…damaged. Not sure where that random opinion came from. Maybe it was her address. She put her life in danger every time she stepped foot in that fucking zip code.


The first tow truck finally arrived and started hooking up the asshole’s luxury car. Guess it was time for me to leave the comfort of the cruiser and stop surreptitiously ogling the girl.


After the asshole and his car pulled away, and the concerned witness finally left, it was just Lauren and myself waiting for the second tow truck. I’d never been nervous talking to a woman before. Usually just flashing a smile was all it took to get a woman to jump into my bed and beg me to fuck her seven ways to Sunday. But this girl made me feel like a middle school nerd with a hard-on, trying to ask her to some dorky school dance. I wanted to ask her out, but hell, a girl like her would probably turn me down. I needed to seriously get a grip, and quit acting like such a fucking chick. 


“So, I’d be glad to give you a lift to the rental place. They’ll have you a car ready to go by the time we get there,” I informed her as we waited, leaned against the side of my cruiser. 


She looked up at me from the curtain of her long blonde hair. 
“A rental car? Really?” she smiled, relief and surprise showing on her beautiful face. 


“Really. It's all taken care of.” 
Which had me thinking of the ways I could take care of her, in my bed, against my car, or a wall, on the dining room table, anywhere, everywhere.


“Great, thanks. I could definitely use a ride if you don’t mind.”


“It won’t be any trouble at all.” I’d take the longest route possible to spend more time with her. 
Finally, unfortunately, the last tow truck arrived and took her demolished Honda away. I opened the passenger door of my cruiser and held it for her to get in, then climbed into the driver seat and started the car. 


“Whew, it’s already so freaking humid. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like by this afternoon,” she remarked as she fanned herself. 
I cranked up the AC and shifted the vents toward her. 


“Thanks,” she said, giving me a quick smile. 
I couldn't pull my eyes away from her. Her long, straight blonde hair was blowing away from her face, a bead of sweat running a path down her cleavage that strained against the top of her white spaghetti strap dress. A dress that, now that she was sitting, was sliding significantly above her knees, showing plenty of skin on her slender and beautifully tanned thighs. 
Sweat broke out on my forehead, and my cock swelled as I gawked at the sex personified woman sitting beside me. I clenched the steering wheel tighter to prevent my itching hands from wandering over and slipping under the hem of her dress like they wanted to do.


When she lifted all of her hair up off her neck, her eyes closed and her lips parted in the bliss of the cool air. I nearly fucking lost it. 


“Jesus,” the groan escaped before I could catch it. Her eyes opened, and she looked over at me, a knowing but shy smile curving her lovely lips. Lips I wanted to see around my ... Fuck. This situation had sexual harassment lawsuit written all over it. 


“What’s the matter Officer Evans?”


“You. You’re making it hard to concentrate, and I'm going to feel really bad if you end up in two wrecks today.” 


She laughed and let her hair fall back down around her shoulders, then pulled on the hem of her dress, jerking it toward her knees to try and cover more of her thighs. The shift only resulted in jerking the top of the dress down, flashing the front of her lacy white bra, and the abundant mounds of flesh overfilling the cups. 


“I’m sorry. I’m being inappropriate,” I admitted, then finally stopped staring at her rack to put the car in gear and pull out of the parking lot.


“I don’t mind,” she replied, and my cock twitched, encouraged by those three words. At least until she threw me for a hell of a loop when she added, “I’m used to it since I’ve been dancing for four years.”


I barely refrained from slamming on the brakes, giving us both whiplash. 
“Dancing?” I repeated, afraid I already knew the fucked up answer.


“Yeah, I dance at Infinity’s.” 


“You’re a stripper?” The word came out sounding more incredulous than I'd planned.


“I prefer the term 'exotic dancer.' What? Is that profession frowned upon by law enforcement? Because I only dance, regardless of what men may hope and believe.” 


“Not just dance. Dance naked. That’s a pretty important aspect of it, don’t you think?”


“It’s not that big of a deal,” she said, turning her head away to look out the window. 


“You just don’t seem like the type. You look ...” I trailed off trying to find the words. 


“Like a shy and innocent virgin?" she suggested with a laugh.


“Well, yeah, actually,” I admitted with a grin.


“Maybe that’s why I make twice as much as most of the other women.”


“I don’t doubt it. Not one damn bit,” I said with another sneaking look at her from the corner of my eye. 
Shit, I’d gotten a hard-on just talking to her fully clothed. There wasn't hope for any man alive who seen her without clothes on. Hold on; she said she'd been dancing for four years, but she was only twenty.


"Please tell me you haven't been working there since you were sixteen. That's all kinds of illegal."


"Actually, it was a few weeks before my sixteenth birthday. And what are you going to do, Officer? Go down there and arrest someone?"


"Someone should be arrested."


"I needed the money, and when you’re getting paid under the table in cash, there's nothing else required. If you ask any of the owners, they'll swear I lied to them about my age. So who are you going to arrest?" she asked with a shrug like it was no big deal for a teenager to take her clothes off for grown men. 


"Where the hell were your parents?"


"Oh, well my mom was at home with boyfriend number one million seventy-two getting trashed, and Darth Vader could be my father for all I know." 


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