Scorched by a Deputy (The Deputy Series Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Scorched by a Deputy

  By

  Dawn Marie

  Scorched by a Deputy

  Book 3

  The Deputy Series

  By Dawn Marie

  Copyright © 2017 by Shirley Colvin

  First eBook publication: May 2017

  All rights reserved.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission of the author or publisher for any purposed, except brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and are not to be interpreted as real. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, locales, or organizations, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover © 2017 by Adrijus @ rockingbookcovers.com

  Editing: Dawn

  Table of Contents

  Attention readers:

  Please follow me

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  I only hook-up with women.

  No time for relationships.

  I’m too hard-core for most women.

  Raw and gritty.

  I don’t date. I do not do flowers and romance shit.

  I’m Deputy Sheriff Dyane Nelson.

  I don’t screw with the women I meet in my line of work.

  But…why not this one time?

  I’ll fuck her hard and leave.

  I’m not looking for a one-night stand or a hook-up.

  But then I meet Dyane.

  A sexy, hard-core Deputy…

  Who has made me crave him with a scorching passion.

  I’m Dawn Little and I want more…

  Dyane doesn’t want to give it – can I change his heart?

  Or…will we both get scorched?

  Attention readers:

  Book is meant for mature readers.

  Contains sexually explicit content.

  Please follow me on Facebook

  @ dawnvampwriter

  Website: www.dawnvampwriter.com

  Books by Dawn Marie:

  The Deputy Series:

  Handcuffed by the Deputy: Book 1

  Tied-Up Deputy: Book 2

  Dedication

  Just because…the story needed to be told.

  Chapter 1

  I don’t know what I was thinking when I glanced into his deep navy-blue eyes, they hardly reflected any emotion and that alone should have made me scared. But something, maybe the thrill of that, no emotion, no feelings, no regret, whatever label you wanted to give it, that in its self is what made me play with fire. The fire of him, those deep navy-blue eyes of his that burned into my body. It’s like he could see deep into my soul and knew what I was thinking, feeling, wondering, regretting. And, yet, he burned me.

  I’d like to tell you that I think I burned him. I want to believe that so badly. That somehow in our short time together I did scorch him. I made some dent into that harsh personality of his. He’s a hard man. And, I mean that in so, so many ways. He does his duty and so much more. He keeps his emotions tightly wrapped, hardly ever showing any. He hardly ever laughs. Sometimes, he will smile. When he does smile, it grips you right in the heart. At least, it does mine.

  Or it did once upon a time.

  He’s taller than my five feet four inches by at least six inches. I must look up, way up, to look into his eyes or see his face. His dark black hair is kept short in a military style haircut. Usually dark black sunglasses hide his navy-blue eyes. I think sometimes he wears them to hide the emotion that shows in his eyes. Most of the time he is clean shaven. His face smooth to my fingertips. Other times, he has a light dusting of black stubble on his cheeks. It makes him look more dark, moodier in my opinion and it suits him. He’s lightly tanned from working outside whenever he gets the chance. He keeps to himself, and he’s quiet. I do most of the talking. I know right. You can tell where I am going with this.

  I want to tell you this story and I don’t. It’s much too deep. Probably too hot for most to handle. But … then again maybe telling someone about us. Yes, us. It will help me to heal. Maybe forgive. Maybe move on. Past him. Past us. But I am not so sure anymore. All I can do is remember the touch of his hands on my skin, pulling me closer, pushing me away, the burning heat of his kisses, and the feel of his heartbeat under my ear. His breath on my ear in the darkness of the night, his warm, muscular arms holding me close to his chest.

  It’s silly to remember those things, isn’t it? Why should I remember anything? I don’t know. I just do. I don’t want to forget the memories of us. The moments we had together. Some good, some bad. I wish things turned out differently. It’s the romantic in me. Always wanting that fairy tale happy ending for everyone. However, I know in life we all can’t have fifty years of bliss. If only…

  The day I met Dyane Nelson or should I say Deputy Nelson is one I will remember forever. He’s that intense. He’s that sexy. He could be everything any woman dreamed about finding in a man. He could be; you notice I said. That’s because yes, he is charming, good-looking and downright melt-in-your-mouth yummy. But he’s the biggest asshole I have met to date.

  Yes, you heard me. The biggest asshole I have met. The biggest cockiest attitude I’ve ever witnessed in my forty-three years of being a woman.

  He makes me boil.

  I’m not sure why I even let him get to me. Get under my skin, seep into my thoughts, wander through my dreams, seize my attention. If I could strip him from my mind, my skin, my body or my heart I would. I would! No matter how badly it cuts me, burns me, damages me. After all, you can heal, can’t you? I wonder…

  Dyane isn’t any form of a gentleman. I thought at first, he was. He could be one. Nope. He’s just a living shell of one. Pretending to be a gentleman. But that’s not in his makeup. He’s too callous. Too tough. Too much of an ass. If you asked me why I cared? I don’t know what I would have said at the beginning. I know what I will say now. But then again that statement o
f not knowing what I would have said at the beginning of meeting him, it’s a lie. I do know what I would have said.

  I would have said I hoped I could have changed him. Me. Just me. Us. That my love would have seeped into his heart, his body, and his life. My caring would have reached something inside his frozen heart, and made it thaw. Somehow, making him love me. Making him change into a better man. A kinder man. To see that something so rare as somebody loving you needs to be caught and held on tightly.

  However, I should move on with my life. With me. But I know no matter how much I try to get pass the pain, the burning hurt inside my heart, I can’t just forget him.

  Forget about us! The way he made me burn. The way he made me boil inside. The smell of his body, the heat of his hands, his laughter whenever I could make him laugh. Simply being in his arms, in his world, in his bed. I miss it. I ache for him. I simply miss Dyane. And deep in my heart, I feel like he can change. He can learn to love.

  I had to walk away to survive. Maybe if I admit to myself I actually ran away from him as much as he was running away from me. I tried to be tough. I did try to be tough and hardened like him. Maybe it’s his way of life. But being hardened isn’t in mine. I knew that first moment when my blue-eyes connected to his navy-blue eyes that he was a man I could not forget.

  I was right.

  I can’t forget him.

  I lay here in my bed feeling sorry for myself. Hurting. Aching for his arms. Missing his husky voice telling me something. Asking me something. The scent of his cologne on the sheets. On my skin. The heat of his lips as they claim mine in a deep, burning kiss. I miss simple moments such as just having a nice dinner with Dyane and watching his eyes heat for me. He wanted me but was it just sex?

  I know I am weak. My heart is broken, ripped open, and I’m stripped bare inside my soul. I fell in love with a man I shouldn’t have. With a man that can’t love. Won’t love anyone. I should have known better than to think I could have just given him my body without giving him a piece of my heart. My whole heart. Yes, I have fallen that hard.

  I have made myself weak by loving a man that doesn’t deserve my love.

  My heart.

  To be a major part of my life.

  It hurts so much to think back to that very first meeting. The first day I heard his wicked voice. Smelled his earthy scent through the open window of my car, glanced into those navy-blue eyes of his, touched his warm hand and felt the heat. Felt my heart flip over inside my chest. I should have known he was a bad idea. I should have said no. I shouldn’t have fallen for his bad-boy charm.

  Clinching my eyes shut, the memories flash through my mind. I want to forget everything. It’s been over two months now since I walked out his door. Of course, I was crying and upset. A broken heart does that to you. I don’t know of many men that can listen to a woman lay bare her soul to you and you don’t even flinch. Oh, well wait - asshole comes to my mind. Yeah, I said that too. Called him a freaking asshole. Selfish bastard. The list can go on and on it’s so freaking long.

  Deputy Dyane Nelson is one hard-core male. It takes a lot to rattle his cage. To really get underneath his skin. I’m not sure I got into his heart no matter how badly I wanted to do so. He’s hardened from life, from the world, from his job. He’s one tough guy. One sexy male. He screams dirty sex. And, yes you are wondering about that, aren’t you? Yes, he’s every bit of nasty, dirty, sweaty-big-dick-fucking maleness you can dream about.

  And, he gave it all to me. Used me. Fucked me raw. Gave me all eight-inches of that hard cock of his. Treated me like a slut; never as a lady. I wanted what he had to offer. What he gave me. I did however, after a while, long for something more from him. I couldn’t help myself. He became a burning desire that I couldn’t do without.

  Dyane stripped my soul bare. I feel like I stripped him bare also. That’s why he didn’t admit he loved me. Or, maybe he is telling me the truth and he does not love me. Can’t love anyone. Can’t love me. And, those last three words, the echo of his husky-voice filled with, I don’t know what emotion, pain. Those last three words; can’t love me. They are what keeps echoing inside my brain and my heart.

  It hurts. Did you know that?

  Can you feel it?

  Have you felt it?

  Rejection.

  Heartbreak.

  Disappointment.

  Dear God! The pain is awful. My heart pounds inside my chest even at this moment. I want his love. I want to be his everything. His life. I want to sleep in his bed every night, not just a few nights a week. I want to give him everything he deserves to have. I want to be his partner as well as his lover. His friend. Helpmate. So many things in life.

  That day…that day his voice carried into my car and into my heart.

  I don’t want to tell the story, to hurt anymore, but maybe sharing it will help my heart. Help me to recover and move on pass this awful pain.

  Pain can be many, many different fixations I have discovered. Physical discomforts aside, I am in agony. Mental and physical agony. I so badly want to face him again, but my heart throbs so loudly with the gashes from the ending of us that I can’t.

  Dear God, how badly do I want to see him again?

  Badly.

  And, you know…I just may.

  But first let me remember it all…in case I forget.

  Chapter 2

  My story as I remember.

  Deputy Dyane Nelson and myself.

  Dawn Little, age forty-three, white female, one hundred and twenty pounds with blue eyes and brown hair. That’s what my driver’s license said. That’s what he read when he looked down at me with those heated navy-blue eyes of his. They burned into my body. Burned me so badly I shook. I think from nerves and the fact that I was being stopped by a sexy-overbearing deputy.

  It was a sunny morning in my small town, a common morning for northwest Florida. I was driving to work, my mind filled with lists of all the items that I had to do for the day, things that must get done, people to call, and so on. I was a little distracted I have to admit. Most mornings there were no issues on the roads. Then again, some days there were trees down in the middle of the road, chickens in the road, dogs or goats, and the list can go on and on. So, I usually was very aware of my surroundings.

  However, you know it. I was not paying any attention to my speed. Just driving along, counting my list in my head, singing along to the radio, ready to get to work and get things rolling for the day. Once I had pulled out into traffic from the stop sign by the little convenience store, I had sort of stepped on the gas. Everyone has done it at least once.

  Yes, I stepped on the gas a little maybe too much.

  I know the speed limit sign says 35 m.p.h. on the road through town but no one in town does it. No one! Maybe except for the retards that cannot drive. Oh, and the old lady’s that do 30 m.p.h. everywhere they drive. Most small towns have those out dated speed limit signs that really should be at least ten miles an hour higher. Just because of the simple fact that most drivers do not do the posted signs anyway.

  Yes, I punched the gas and away my little car went. It gets away from you sometimes. I personally, if you want to hear this, think that my gas petal has an issue. A recall issue that is. I push the thing and sometimes it doesn’t want to either let up or go down like it should. Every mechanic that has looked at the blasted thing or petal said there is nothing wrong with it. Must be the driver.

  Yes, I drive a red sports car. Yes, it is fast. I like fast things. I like the rush of going fast. The faster the better. So, in my haze of wanting to get to work to do some work I was speeding almost six over the posted speed limit. Dare, I say I was not a happy girl. Mainly because I was caught. Mainly because I just wanted to get to work!

  As I sat pulled off to the side of the road in front of the tobacco store, I watched in my rearview mirror as the hottest deputy to my eyes stepped out of his car. I had to blink my blue eyes twice, wipe the black eyeliner out of my eyes with the tip of my index finger,
and watch as the hot deputy slowly walked to my passenger window. I rolled down my window before he got there, swallowed, watching as he came towards me all six feet of him I estimated. It seemed as he floated across the payment. Which I know is crazy right?

  My heart sort of flipped in my chest, as I gazed up at him through my open car window. He was really intimating standing outside my car window, looking through the car straight at me, his gaze zeroed in on me. Not that I could see the color of his eyes yet, he had very black sunglasses on his face. His black hair was cut short. He was lightly tanned, with small black curly hairs on his forearms. Which were muscled, but you could tell from the way he walked and the build of his shoulders that he was muscled underneath that uniform he wore. And, he looked to be around my age.

  “Ms.,” he had such a deep, husky voice. “Can I please see your license and registration?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied. I reached over to the glovebox and opened it. I had to search and search under piles of papers to find the blasted stuff. I finally found the two pieces of information he requested and handed them to him.

  My fingers connected with his left hand just briefly but it was enough to feel the heat from his touch. He didn’t look pleased. I thought for a split second that he looked irate and pissed off. I shook my head, surely not, after all I thought they dealt with the public every day in their jobs. I thought they could handle issues and situations in a calm and approachable manner. After all, I thought, I am not the only person who couldn’t find their papers. Right?

  He must be really upset, I thought again, as in a loud, demanding tone of voice he began to read my information back to me. “Dawn Little, age forty-three, white female, one hundred and twenty pounds with blue eyes and brown hair.” He paused, looked down at me, and smirked. As if he thought I wasn’t one hundred and twenty pounds. The nerve of the man!