Page 65 of Ridin' Solo
Charles walked out of the break room with a cake in the shape of a cast. These knuckleheads were throwing me a party for getting my ass shot.
A smile split my face, even as I gripped Wyatt at the surprise of seeing every deputy I worked with clapping me on the back and pulling me into hugs. Sheriff eventually pushed a deputy out of the way and grabbed me by the arms.
“Just a little party to let you know we’re thinking of you, Lee. You better get well quick because I can’t stand any more of your pathetic voicemails asking for a desk job.”
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he pulled me into a rough hug before the words could form. And then I was being pulled away by Wyatt, who brought me back to the center of the room, careful to give me time to limp there in that stupid boot.
The music kept playing, but everyone settled down. Wyatt held my hand, a glint in his eye that made my stomach clench. He got down on one knee and my eyes went round. The whole department went up in shouts. Wyatt turned to everyone and shushed them before turning back to me.
“It’s not what you think.” He winked and I couldn’t stop the nervous giggles. Highly unprofessional of me, but my body wasn’t cooperating with the serious protocol that had been engrained in me. “I want to promise you in front of all our coworkers that I will makeyoumy priority for the rest of our lives. I won’t hide how I feel about you ever again. This promise ring is a symbol of that.” He slid a plain gold band out of his pocket and onto my finger. “And one day soon, when you’re ready, I’ll replace that one with a proper engagement ring.”
I thought I might have somehow drunk a bottle of champagne without remembering. My head was about to float right off my body. The cool metal ring felt foreign on my finger. Foreign, but a welcome change. I knew he’d paid for it out of his pocket when he could have just dipped into his trust fund and bought a damn yacht and named it after me. The little circle of gold meant more to me than all the European vacations in the world.
“Stand up, Lieutenant,” I barked in my best drill sergeant voice, knowing this would be the most important answer in all my life.
Wyatt swallowed hard and stood.
I gazed up at him then, memorizing the moment, the sounds of the party fading away as I looked at the man who loved me enough to be his true self in front of everyone and, most importantly, me. I could only give him the same gift of honesty in return.
There wasn’t much thought, only a heartfelt need to be closer to him when I jumped right into his startled arms. He caught me like I knew he would. My legs wrapped around his waist and I ran my fingers through his hair to press my lips to his. His scent surrounded me and I knew I’d found my home in his arms. The place erupted around us, but I couldn’t have cared less. My tongue swept inside, claiming this man lewdly and graphically in front of my boss and coworkers and anyone else who looked our way.
Because I’d learned something important: loving someone—and showing it—didn’t make you weak. Only refusing to acknowledge that love made one weak. Wyatt would always be my someone, the partner who made us an unbeatable team. The one who mattered to me most…past, present, and future.
29
Oakley
“Let me look at this gorgeous calf.”
Wyatt held up my leg in his strong yet gentle hands, examining my wound now that they had given me the all clear to quit wearing the boot. The flesh was closed and mostly smooth, with just a hint of pink to show I was still healing.
His head dipped and his lips skated across my calf, caressing my skin like the kiss alone could heal a gunshot wound. My leg felt fine actually, but I’d take all the kisses anyway. It had been a whole week of Wyatt and me being back together. He’d had to go back to work while he waited for the transfer to another county and I recuperated, but every second outside of work, we’d spent together. Usually naked.
His lips trailed up to my knee and then the inside of my thigh. He kissed me through the cotton barrier of my panties, causing the breath I was holding to hiss out between my teeth.
“Got a lot of clothes on, Lieutenant,” I gritted out.
He was still in full uniform, having just gotten off of work. He’d come through the front door and promptly stripped me of my clothes, except for my panties, his blue eyes simmering in that look he got every time his gaze swung my way. I was addicted to it. To him. To what his body did to mine when we were alone.
“I got a call about a bad girl…?” he asked, eyes dancing as he stroked his fingertips across my abdomen.
I pointed at my chest, feeling light as a feather teasing each other. Life had gotten far less serious with Wyatt around. “Who, me? You must be wrong, officer. I’m a good girl.”
“Good girls are actually naughty girls who just haven’t been caught,” Wyatt practically growled at me. He pulled his handcuffs off his belt and snapped one on my wrist before I could ask about where they’d been prior to this interesting role-play scenario. Other than the academy, I’d never been the one in the cuffs.
“And since I know you’re still pretending to be a good girl, you’ll be happy to know that’s a brand-new pair of handcuffs,” he added wryly.
I rolled my lips in to keep from laughing. He knew me too well. Proper sanitation was important with a job like ours. So sue me. Wyatt backed away and started unbuttoning his shirt. It opened an inch at a time to reveal his rock-hard chest and abs. He unclasped his duty belt and set it aside. Then the shirt came all the way off. Next up, shoes and socks were tossed across the room. He stilled, and I realized I’d been biting my lip in anticipation.
“See something you like, Captain?” he asked, voice just above a guttural whisper.
I nodded, motioning with my hand for him to continue. The handcuffs clanked, and I looked forward to what he’d do with the other end once he was fully undressed. His hand stilled on the button of his pants, drawing out the anticipation. But this wasn’t Thunder Down Under, and I could actually touch the dancers. I sat up and smacked his ass, prompting him to grab me, flip me over onto my stomach, and drop me back on the bed face-first. He got my hands behind my back in a flash, clamping the other handcuff on my wrist, and expertly subduing me.
Any other scenario and that alpha move would have pissed me off, but here, in the bedroom? Hell. Yes. I was here for it.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he crooned. “Guess that bad girl showed up after all.”
I twisted my face in the comforter to see him strip off the pants, his cock bobbing free. Just the sight of it, knowing what it could do to me—had done to me—had me squirming on the bed. Wyatt fisted his length and gave it a good tug before sauntering back over. The man was too gorgeous for his own good. If David was the epitome of male perfection in the Renaissance, Wyatt was the twenty-first-century version of the male ideal.
