When I’d closed, Memphis had left to attend to some business after ensuring I was okay. She’d thrust a key into my hand, given me a hug, then left without another word.
I saw two more patients after the lovely couple that just had their worlds rocked, and I was still just as sad as when I’d left them.
I just stepped out and locked the door when I heard a bike pull up and come to a stop.
I looked up to find Lock kicking the stand down on his bike and pulling off his helmet.
He still had his Ray-Bans on that were hiding his eyes, but I knew they were soft and trained solely on me.
He was at my side six strides later and was staring down at me with the sweetest expression on his face that I’d ever seen.
“Hey,” he said.
A soft ‘hey’ left my lips.
“Can I do anything to put a smile on your face?” he said, trailing his fingers down the length of my cheek.
No.
I was devastated.
The day had been hard.
So fucking hard.
I’d, of course, known that there was always the possibility of that happening. It was, sadly, a common occurrence. Not something that happened every day, but it was definitely something that I’d encountered a few times while I was going to school.
But those times I’d always had someone there to help.
Today, I hadn’t.
I’d had to perform the task, then send the lady on her way with the recommendation that she go see her doctor.
I’d given her a CD full of images of her deceased baby.
A baby that had likely only perished hours or days ago since he still looked so perfect and healthy.
They’d been so happy…
“No,” I admitted. “I’m okay.”
Lies.
Total lies.
And he seemed to see that, too.
But he didn’t say a word.
Instead, he led me to his bike.
“My car…”
He squeezed my hand and then pulled me deeper into his tall frame, taking my bag from me when we got to his bike and gesturing for me to get on.
I did, then took the helmet he also held out to me and shoved it unceremoniously onto my head, then held my hand out for my bag.
He handed it to me and waited until I was situated before he got on the bike in front of me.
But he didn’t start it up, and I didn’t say a word.
Instead, I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes.
“Baby, talk to me.”
I blinked, staring up at Lock, who was half-turned to look at me, with surprise evident on my face.
“We’re going to get something to eat,” he said once my eyes met his.
Then he started his bike up and pulled out of the parking spot. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wasn’t hungry.
He was being so sweet.
And I smiled inwardly when he took me to one of my favorite places in the world.
We didn’t get off, though. Instead, he went through the drive-through and I was so fucking happy I couldn’t express how much. I couldn’t get out. I just wasn’t up to dealing with people.
Over the last couple of weeks, Lock had really come to know me.
I was now sharing a house with him—and a bed—thanks to the damage that’d been done to the roof.
Damage that was, in fact, way worse than we’d originally thought.
There was going to be a major rehaul of the place that was going to be much more extensive than just getting a new roof put on like we’d originally thought.
So now, at two weeks of officially knowing Lock Downy, I was living with him.
Not only was I living with him, but I was sleeping in his bed every night. Sleeping with him every night, if you caught my drift.
We ate dinner together when he and I both got home on time.
We watched movies.
We dated…without actually categorizing ourselves as ‘dating.’
It was incredibly weird…and I liked it.
I only wished we could put an actual label on it if only to make my mind be able to more properly handle the situation.
Kind of like right then.
Lock was staring at me, looking as if he wanted to hug me, and there was a woman that worked in the drive-through who was looking at him as if he was a shiny new toy she’d like to tear out of his package.
Yes, lady. He does look incredibly sexy in his uniform.
Was it okay for me to get pissed at the lady? Or did I not have the right because we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend?
I needed a damn label!
Like, was I allowed to flip the lady off? Or was it okay to sit there allowing her to eye-fuck him right in front of me?
When she handed him the small bag that I knew didn’t hold enough food to feed a baby, let alone two of us, I stared at him in confusion.
But he was pulling out without acknowledging the woman, before I had a second to ask him a question.
Two minutes after that, he was pulling into another drive-through.
This time I paid attention to what he was ordering.
Waffles fries.
I frowned but still said nothing.
This went on four more times, and by the time we ended up back at Lock’s place, he had six bags in his saddlebags, all from different fast-food restaurants.
When he got off, he grabbed them all up, then reached for my hand.
Without a word, he led me inside, and then set all the food out on the kitchen table.
I stared at it in shock.
He’d gotten all my favorite things, from six different places.
Waffle fries from Chick-Fil-A. A burrito from my favorite taco chain. A sweet tea from McAlisters. A burger from Whataburger. A couple of cookies from Rico’s. And finally a milkshake from Brauns.
I started to cry.
I just couldn’t help it.
And he didn’t say a word to my outburst.
Only wrapped me up in his arms and squeezed tight.
“Shhh,” he said into my hair as I cried into the uniformed shirt of his chest. His very hard chest seeing as he was still wearing his Kevlar vest that he wore while he was at work. “It’s okay.”
It wasn’t okay…at least not for those two parents.
Their lives had irrevocably changed today, and I hated that for them.
One second everything was perfect, and the next, not.
But…Lock was partially right.
My life was perfect.
In the two weeks that I’d been living with him, I’d realized a couple of things.
A, I really liked who Lock was as a person. He was kind, caring, sweet, possessive, and hot.
B, he took care of me. Not in an ‘I’m controlling’ kind of way, but in an ‘I care about you’ kind of way. He made me coffee to go in the morning. He sent texts to me, making me smile. He always let me know when he’d be home late.
C, I was falling in love with him.
Hard and fast.
I sniffled and pulled away, wiping my eyes.
“What are you going to eat?” I asked, sucking up snot in a very unladylike fashion.
He grinned. “I ordered a pizza.”
I laughed then, unable to help myself.
“We’re going to gain fifteen pounds tonight,” I admitted.
He didn’t say a word.
Only dropped a kiss onto my lips and said, “So?”
I snorted, then remembered the man from earlier.
“Hey, what was that guy there for earlier? The one that looked all grumpy and official?” I asked.
Lock’s face suddenly grew murderous.
“Someone turned her into the city,” he said. “Filed a couple of violations on her. They’re bogus. She can clear them up easily with a lawyer, but it was more than obvious that it was some bullshit when the guy ser
ved her the papers.”
“Served her papers…is it a lawsuit?” I asked, surprised.
He nodded. “Among other things.”
I blinked. “What…wow.”
“The lawsuit is for discrimination. Apparently, a man came there to apply for a job that day you interviewed with her—the receptionist job she was talking about—and my mother turned him down because she’d just hired you.” He sighed. “We’re fairly sure that the guy was responsible for turning her in on those violations, too. Though, most of them won’t hold any water.”
“Most of them?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “One might. But my mom didn’t go into further details. She went to talk to her lawyer with my dad. I didn’t get a chance to do any more asking about it because I was worried about you.”
I blinked. “Call her.”
He grinned. “I texted. She told me she would talk to me tomorrow because her and my dad were going out on a date at a local winery, and she wasn’t letting some ‘punk little kid’ ruin it for her.”
I snickered. “I like your mom. A lot.”
His eyes were soft as he said, “Me, too.” He paused. “I told you that I had the best parents.”
With that, I burst out laughing.
Lock handed me a beer, which I took despite it not being my favorite, and together we ate until we couldn’t eat anymore.
It was only after beer number three for me, and beer number four for him, that I realized that we’d somehow domesticated our relationship.
We’d gone from being brand new to acting like an old married couple, in the span of two weeks.
“Lock,” I said. “I’m going to tell my parents about you.”
He frowned.
“Tell them about me how?” he asked. “They already know about me.”
I flushed.
“I meant that we’re together,” I corrected him. “That we’re seeing each other.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes.
“Well, since we’re on that subject.” He paused. “We have a family dinner tomorrow night. My entire family is going to be there. Parents. One of my sisters. Aunts and uncles. We get together once a month at my parents’ place, or my aunt’s place, and we play board games. Eat shit.”
“Two days of eating like shit.” I widened my eyes at Lock. “How will you survive?”
He grinned. “Tomorrow is my long run day. I’m just gonna call this carb-loading.”
I snickered.
“How long is your long run this week?” I asked curiously.
He looked like he didn’t want to tell me.
“What?” I asked.
“You called me crazy for doing eight last week,” he said. “That wasn’t even my long run. I didn’t have time to get a long run in since I had to work that day.”
I poked him in the chest with a piece of pizza.
He looked down at his bare chest that now had a smear of pizza sauce near his clavicle, and wiped it off before sucking the sauce into his mouth.
I felt all hot and bothered just by that one move.
“How many?” I asked.
“How many miles?” he teased.
I went to poke him again, but instead of it touching his skin, he bent down and took a massive bite.
“Hey!” I cried out. “That’s my piece!”
“If you don’t want me taking bites, you better keep it away from me,” he teased. “And I’m running twelve tomorrow.”
“Twelve kilometers?” I wondered. “What’s that in miles?”
“Seven and a halfish,” he answered, grinning wide now. “But I’m talking about twelve miles, not kilometers.”
My mouth fell open.
“You’re going to run twelve miles?” I gasped.
“Yep,” he confirmed. “Pace convinced me to do a half marathon with him benefitting fallen heroes next month. I’ve been training for it ever since.”
I shook my head.
“That’s cool,” I said. “And fun. And crazy.”
He snatched up the last piece of pizza before leaning back in the couch and groaning.
“I’m going to be so slow tomorrow,” he murmured, rubbing his abs.
Yes, abs.
The man still had abs even after putting away three pieces of pizza, a large order of fries, half a milkshake, and a half of a burrito.
“You disgust me,” I told him. “Tomorrow I’m going to gain five pounds and you’ll still have abs.”
He patted his belly.
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But you also have to think about the fact that I usually eat fairly healthy. And there are days that I don’t have abs. Tomorrow will probably be one of them.”
I scoffed.
“I highly doubt it,” I countered. “You’ll probably wake up tomorrow with a ten-pack.”
He took a bite of the pizza and shrugged. “If I have a lot of water retention, my belly’s not nearly as well-formed. Trust me, it happens. And with the amount of fucking salt we just ingested? It’s a very real possibility.” He tilted his head. “You know, you could run the 5K that they’re doing as well as the half marathon. A month is enough to prepare to run that.”
My eyes widened. “You want me to run a 5K? That’s a lot!”
It was…kind of.
“You said you ran,” he pushed.
***
Lock
She started gathering her trash, dropping all of it into the pizza box before taking it to the kitchen.
There she threw everything that she could away, then walked the pizza box to the back porch where I kept the recycling bin.
Once she was back, she had a concentrating look on her face.
“What?” I asked, finishing off the last bite of my pizza, then guzzling down the rest of my beer.
“I’ll run with you.” She paused. “But I’m not a very good runner. I can run…it’s just not any fun.”
My lips twitched.
“I don’t think running is fun for anybody,” I admitted.
She frowned. “Then why do you do it so much?”
I shrugged.
“I feel accomplished when I’m done,” I admitted. “Though, it’s fucking daunting as hell when Pace, who has no fuckin’ legs, can whoop my ass as bad as he does. He consistently finishes at least four to five minutes ahead of me when we run. It’s intimidating, to say the least.” I grinned. “You want to come up there with me tomorrow? I can run the last mile with you.”
“Mile?” she asked. “I thought you said you wanted me to run three?”
“I did,” I confirmed, walking my own trash to the trash can and throwing my beer cans into the trash.
She rolled her eyes, pulled the beer cans out of the trash, then walked them to the recycling bin on the back porch before once again locking the door.
When she made it back to the kitchen and my side, I grabbed her around her hips then hefted her up onto the counter.
“You can’t just come out and run three miles. You have to work up to it,” I said against her lips. “And I’ll definitely help you work up to it.”
Her hands threaded around my neck and she pulled herself up and me down until my lips were against hers.
“Why do I get the feeling that we’re not just talking about running anymore?” she whispered.
I skimmed her shirt up, allowing my fingers to drag deliciously against the skin on her side.
Then stopped when I encountered her bra.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. “I’m just helping you get ready for bed.”
Her laugh was full of joy as I yanked her off my counter and took her to the bed.
By the time we got there, and I was laying her down, she had her bra undone and her shirt up and over her head.
I pulled back just long enough to lose my own shirt, as well as my jeans and underwear, before coming back down to lie on top of her.
&nbs
p; “We’ll call this our pre-workout,” I teased.
She shook her head in amusement as she skimmed her hands down the muscles in my arm.
“I’m fairly sure if I have to do any of the work, I’ll pop like a tick,” she informed me. “So, don’t expect me to get on top and start bouncing.”
I rolled my eyes at her, causing her to narrow hers.
“You—”
I cut her off with a roll of her body.
One second, she was on her back, about to lecture me, and the next she was on her belly and I was helping her up to her knees.
Things went quickly after that.
Once I got her sufficiently wet enough to take me, I sank slowly inside, but didn’t waste time getting her or me off.
Snaking my arm around her hips, I fingered her clit as I took her in slow, measured thrusts.
And despite having had nearly constant, regular sex for the last two weeks, sometimes three and four times a day depending on if we were both off, I was already ready to come.
She started pushing back against the saddle of my hips, asking for it harder without saying the words, and I obliged.
The moment I did, her body began to tighten.
“Please,” she whispered. “Oh!”
I thrust in sharply, feeling the bump of my pelvis against the plushness of her ass.
I watched in amusement as her ass jiggled as I took her, loving the way that my hand seemed to sink down into the meat when I held on tighter.
Her pussy clamped tight, and then it was pulsating, rubbing me deliciously as I began to thrust in harder.
I only stopped circling her clit with my finger when the pulsing subsided, knowing that she liked when I coaxed the orgasm out of her with my fingers.
Then I focused on my own release, not stopping until I felt it boiling in my balls.
When I knew my release was imminent, I pulled out, and came all over her back and ass, loving the way the heat of me painted her back.
“You’re such a caveman,” she laughed, breathless. “Go get a towel and clean me up so I don’t drip on the bed.”
I did as she asked, coming back with a towel and wiping her clean before she moved.
Moments later, she was in the bathroom cleaning herself up ‘more better’ according to her, and I was on my back in the bed, wondering if it was okay to go to bed this early.
I glanced at the clock and saw it was well past nine.
My eyes closed, and soon I found myself dozing off.
Sinners are Winners (KPD Motorcycle Patrol Book 5) Page 13
