Free Dirty (JUST BREATHE Ephemera Book 3) by Kendall Grey Page A

might as well have been Baryshnikov asking Dumbo for a dance.
    He glanced around the empty parking lot, hand on the butt of the gun hanging from his hip. “I’ve been busy. How about we take a drive out to Joshua Tree? I picked up some sandwiches. We can eat and talk.”
    She didn’t like the tenseness in his shoulders. His face was hard, like a stone carving—unyielding and unreadable.
    He was going to break up with her.
    Her sex drive downshifted to neutral and then reversed. “Okay,” she said softly and followed him to the patrol car.
    Well, it wasn’t surprising. They’d been dating for months, and she barely had the courage to kiss him, let alone sleep with him. He’d made his interest clear on several occasions, but she … she just couldn’t do it.
    Jetta got in the car and glanced down at herself. Stick-thin arms and legs. Flat chest. Curveless body. She was practically androgynous. If Tyson ever saw the skin and bones under the scrubs, he’d run away screaming. The only things she had going for her were an okay-looking face and a gentle disposition.
    Not good enough for a guy like him.
    Tyson made small talk on the thirty-minute drive to the national park. Jetta stared out the passenger-side window, afraid to meet his eyes, afraid to see the disappointment within. He held up a wrapped six-inch sub, but she waved it off with a “no thanks.” She could hardly eat half a sandwich when she was famished, and tonight she’d lost her appetite.
    “You gotta eat, Jetta.”
    “That’s okay. I’m not hungry.” She shifted in her seat.
    Near the forest entrance, Tyson pulled off the road and parked the car down an embankment. One of the advantages of dating a cop was you didn’t have to worry about getting hassled for bending the rules. Not that anyone was around to bother them.
    He turned off the engine, tossed the sandwich into a bag, and dropped it to the floorboard. Scrubbed his face. Tapped the steering wheel.
    Yep. Totally breaking up with her.
    He turned to her. “I’m ready to take our relationship to the next level.”
    Uh … what? A tremor quaked through her skinny arms, and heat flushed her skin. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
    He laid a hand on her thigh. Waaay up her thigh. Part of her thrilled at his searing touch and the promise of what might follow. The other part trembled with fear.
    “I mean” —the hand slunk higher, his shoulders squared, and he leaned in to her lips— “I wanna have sex with you.” Peppery breath brushed her cheek. In the dim light of the waning moon, his eyes shone black with a hint of— red? No way.
    Jetta’s fragile heart picked up speed. She swallowed hard.
    A seductive scent bled into the car. His fingers stroked her sex through her work scrubs. She clenched her legs together. No. This wasn’t right. It didn’t feel … right.
    She pushed against his wrist and inched away from him. “I don’t … think I’m ready for that yet.”
    A cursory glance around confirmed they were still alone. Off the beaten path. In a forest. After hours. A bitter taste filled her mouth.
    “ I’m ready.” His voice took on a sinister tone. “I think I’ve waited long enough.”
    Who was this guy? The hairs along her arms and up the back of her neck bristled. All traces of the man she trusted disappeared, replaced by a snarling monster she didn’t recognize. Her broken little heart took off on an awkward sprint.
    Nostrils bowing with fast breaths, he grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her close.
    “Tyson, please—” She swallowed the bile erupting in her throat. “Please take your hands off me.” Her voice cracked. Tears collected at the corners of her eyes.
    Order lost its balance and tripped into a bottomless pit of chaos. This couldn’t be happening. He was a cop , for Chrissakes.
    He lunged, pushed her into the seat with one arm, and unbuckled his belt with his free hand.
    “No!” Jetta flailed under his weight, beat uselessly against