Page 28 of Ridin' Solo
I wrestled with my helmet and finally threw it down on my bedroom floor. Heading back downstairs. I yanked the door open again, stomping off into the night, fueled by anger and bubbly and very little forethought. My sister Amelia was often a loose cannon, a personality type I didn’t understand, but in the dead of the night as I kept my gaze on Wyatt’s front door like I could burn it down with my superpowers, I understood her just a little better. I was pissed.
And tipsy.
The next thing I knew my fist was banging on his door and he was whipping it open fully naked with his gun drawn and pointing at my feet.
And he was happy to see me.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a rush, looking over my shoulder and then back at my face, confusion evident.
Fuck me. The man was built. Long, muscular legs with thighs a professional athlete would envy. A light dusting of hair that led my gaze right to his thick cock, currently pointing right at me.
“Hi. Nice to meet you,” I whispered in a daze.
A strangled noise hit my ears, but I ignored it, too intent on looking my fill. The man had those muscles over his hip bones. The ones that made a woman lose her mind. The kind I wanted to lick.
“Did you just introduce yourself to my dick?” Wyatt asked incredulously, the hand not currently holding the gun appearing in my line of sight to cover himself. Holy cannoli, he couldn’t do it. The cock was too long for his hand. Wyatt had the holy grail of cocks.
My gaze fluttered up, and my head swam. What was I doing here again? I caught a whiff of his cologne and it set my gut on fire. It also made me remember why I was here.
I was mad.
Also highly turned on right now, but dammit, I was angry.
I pointed a finger at his chest, wishing it were touching skin further south. “You sent me a dildo.”
He backed up a step and set his gun down on a table by the door. I took a step inside his house, drilling my finger into his chest. I could have wept at how warm his skin felt.
“I have to smell your stupid cologne every day in the damn cruiser. Do you bathe in it?”
His head reared back. I took another step closer, having to tilt my head back to keep my frown headed in the general direction of his face, my index finger now caressing his chest more than drilling.
“Why are your stupid uniform shirts so tight on your arms? Did you have them tailored specifically to cut off blood supply?”
His lips quirked to the side.
My other fingers got jealous, so I flattened my palm against his chest. “It’s bad enough I have to work with you all day with your juvenile sexual innuendos, but then you do sweet things like bring me dessert coffee. Who does that?”
Wyatt’s head tilted down and he leaned in, his face just inches from mine. He didn’t look scared.
“And these muscles? It’s ridiculous. I should have a partner with a potbelly and a receding hairline, not some…cop calendar model.” I stuck my bottom lip out, my voice petering out.
“Are you done?” Wyatt whispered, his breath fanning across my face.
I frowned, searching my brain for why else I was mad at him, but couldn’t quite grasp any solid threads. “I think so,” I whispered back.
And then we both pounced, our lips tangled together, his hands tilting my face, and my arms coming around his waist to feel his broad back. We were moving, legs and feet tangling together and a door slamming behind me as his tongue assaulted my mouth. My hands went on a trip, finding the globes of his rock-solid ass fascinating material.
Wyatt wrenched his mouth away and swatted at my hands until I let go. “Oakley. As much as I want this”—he looked down at the hard cock straining between us—“and I want this very badly, we can’t. You’re drunk.”
My head was swimming, but my lady parts knew what they wanted. I held up my finger. “I’m not and I can prove it.” I whipped out the breathalyzer from my pocket and blew on it, holding the screen up to him to prove I was below the limit.
He rolled his lips in and took a deep breath. “Oakley.”
When I was little, I wanted a flashlight just like my daddy’s. My parents wouldn’t buy me one, saying I was too young. For whatever reason, I was desperate for the flashlight. So, one night, after they thought I was asleep, I crept out of bed and took Daddy’s flashlight from his duty belt on the kitchen table. Cop flashlights were heavy and long, too much for a mere toddler. I ended up tipping it off the table, unable to catch it since it was so heavy, and the end bopped me in the mouth. Mom found me crying and lectured me on chipping my tooth. I’ll never forget her saying how just because you want something badly, doesn’t mean you should get it.
Thing is, I wanted Wyatt so badly I was willing to chip every single one of my teeth to get him. Guess I didn’t quite learn that lesson.
I took a step closer, our bodies not quite touching, and looked up at him. “Wyatt. I’m finally ready to admit it. I need the real thing and you’re gonna give it to me.”
