Page 34 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

Unrelated cases.

Off the case.

Administrative leave.

“But, Chief…”

Dillon taps my thigh and shakes his head sadly at me. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Once we’re outside, the wind whips at my flesh and I welcome its icy lashing. “I could have sworn it was him,” I whisper, dropping my head in shame. With a firm grip, he drags me by the arm into his chest and I let him, collapsing against his body. His comforting me is a new revelation in our friendship but I can’t lie and say I don’t like it. I like it too much pressed up against his solid chest. Dillon’s warmth envelops me and I feel safe. For once in my life, I relax and let someone truly hold me. It’s the most peace I’ve felt in a long time.

He only keeps me there for a brief moment before pushing me toward my car. “Get the fuck out of here. Chief only did this to get you to take some time off for once.” He smiles to reassure me, but it doesn’t work. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten you still owe me a hundred bucks,” he teases in an attempt to lighten the mood, and I flip him off.

“Thank you for everything,” I murmur, almost inaudible, as I open my car door and slide into the seat.

He grabs the door before I can pull it closed. “We’ll get him eventually, Jade. They always fuck up, and when he does, I promise we’ll get him.”

I stare into the now empty tumbler and rattle it. When Bo gets home, I’m going to have to break the news to him. I fucked up. The very idea of confessing how my awful day had gone has bile rising in my throat.

I’d been so sure.

I’m still wallowing in my failure when I hear the front door open. My fiancé is noisy as he comes inside, his keys jangling along the way.

“Babe?”

He walks into the kitchen to see me sitting on the island, my legs dangling off the counter with a half-empty bottle of whiskey at my side. His eyes widen for a brief moment before he chucks his keys onto the counter and stalks over to me.

“Jesus, Jade,” he murmurs as he wraps his arms around me. “What happened?”

Emotion makes my throat ache. “Everything.”

He pulls me off the counter to my unstable feet. When I sway, he hugs me to him. His lips find the top of my head and he peppers kisses on my hair, attempting to soothe me. Thing is, I’m not feeling very soothed. Not at all like how Dillon had a funny way of calming me earlier today in the middle of my mental breakdown.

A shudder courses through me.

I’m doing it again.

Obsessing over Dillon’s newfound human appeal when I need to be present with my…fiancé. Another shiver passes through me.

“Come on,” he mutters. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He somehow wrangles me into the bedroom and begins peeling off my clothes. Bo is such a good man—so caring and protective. He’ll make a good husband one day.

To someone else.

The thought makes me feel sick inside.

He doesn’t want someone else, though. He wants me. I need to make myself want him too. As soon as he frees me of my jeans and I’m left in nothing but my panties, I attack him. A low, satisfied growl rumbles through him as I grip his hardening cock through his slacks.

“Fuck me, Bo.”

Our teeth clash together as he rips his clothes off in record time. He’ll lay me on the bed and be inside me by my next breath. He’ll whisper sweet nothings as he makes love to me. Sweet Bo is so predictable.

Just once I’d like for him to lose control and actually fuck me.

Like him?

My brain shuts down as I remember the first time I was fucked.

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