Not even the newspaper and television stories of “a heated exchange between the two candidates for sheriff” seemed to bother him. Friday morning, Chase woke LaShaun from a sound sleep in a most delicious way. Wrapped in flannel sheets, LaShaun had made her master bedroom his sanctuary. “I’m going to be pulling more over time in the next few days,” Chase murmured as he nuzzled LaShaun’s neck. “I need a nice, hot memory to get me through the chilly nights of fighting crime.” “Candidate Broussard, you’re supposed to be motivated by a passion for justice,” LaShaun replied and wiggled against his hard body. “I’ve got a passion for a lot of things; justice is only one of ‘em, cher.” Chase slipped his hand between her thighs. He stroked her flesh and moved his hand up. With a light touch, he caressed her mound for a few seconds before using his fingers to slowly drive her insane with desire. His tongue circled first one nipple and then the other, back and forth as his fingers worked a kind of magic she’d never felt before.
