Cuffed & Claimed

by Lori King

  Shelby laughs. “They drove him crazy, and he has a tender nose from Chihuahua teeth.”

  “Those tiny suckers are vicious.”

  Daisy did his job and lightened the atmosphere in the truck. I’m thankful. I don’t like talking about my brother.

  * * *

  Six months have passed since Terry’s arrest. Shelby lives in my house along with many of her crazy decorations. Our place is an organized mess. Organized because I do everything I can to keep it that way and a mess because Shelby’s idea of comfortable is chaos. Her free spirit works for me.

  We’re going out to dinner and Shelby is bitching because she can’t find her purple scarf to accent her yellow skirt.

  “I know, boy,” I tell Daisy with a nice pat on his head. “Your mom is bonkers, but we love her anyway.”

  Daisy whines, which is his way of agreeing.

  “Found it,” she yells from the back of the house. She comes out with the scarf around her head. The long tails of material hang to her waist. Her curly hair is barely controlled. She’s beautiful. I peer downward and see ballerina slippers covering her feet.

  I’m in dark slacks and a pale green dress shirt minus a tie. It’s a little on the fancy side for me when I’m off work and heading out with Shelby. The slight bulge in my pocket causes an insecure feeling in the pit of my stomach. For most women, a high-end restaurant would be the place you ask the most important question of your life. I knew it wouldn’t work for Shelby. I’ve made reservations at an out of the way micro-brewery she’s wanted to try.

  Over beer, after we’ve eaten our dinner, I take Shelby’s hand across the small table. “I love you,” I tell her simply. I haven’t said the words before, though I’ve wanted to each and every day. Her answering smile gives me courage. “When you’re ready, I would like to marry you.” Probably not the most eloquent way to phrase it.

  Her eyes drop to our hands. When she lifts them, I see her tears. “I love you, too,” she whispers. I remove the ring box from my pocket and lay it on the table. She looks back and forth between me and the small black box.

  “Open it,” I coax.

  She releases my hand and shakily picks up the box. I hold my breath when she lifts the top. Her smile is worth the wait. I had the ring designed in the Black Hills of South Dakota, the only place you can get the unique jewelry. It’s not your typical engagement ring, but it’s purely Shelby. The grape leaves twine throughout the band and meet at the top. The gold, pink, and green of the ring signify the authenticity of Black Hills Gold. I didn’t include the wedding band that fits snugly to this band and completes the ring. I’m saving it.

  “When you’re ready,” I say again.

  More tears run down her cheeks, and she doesn’t bother wiping them away. “I’m more than ready.”

  The pounding of my heart doubles. I reach over and lift the ring from the box and slip it on her finger. She runs a finger from her other hand over the design. “It’s perfect,” she whispers. “Absolutely perfect.”

  I pull out my wallet and toss a few bills on the table. I take her hand and pull her up. “Let’s get out of here,” I say with a soft smile.

  She laughs, grabs the small black box, and we walk out. I want her at home, in my bed, and crying out my name.

  “It really is beautiful,” she repeats in the truck.

  “I wanted something you would wear with all your crazy clothes.”

  “You love my crazy clothes,” she says with a laugh.

  “I love you naked more.”

  Her hand goes to the bulge in my pants and she runs her fingers over the material. I should have asked her at home so we didn’t have the long drive to find privacy. I groan in surprise when Shelby unhooks her seat belt and unzips my pants. I start to say no, but she moves over me too quickly, and the last word I’ll ever say when her mouth is on my dick is “No.” I concentrate on driving. It’s not easy.

  “Can you handle this, big boy?” Her hot breath hits my cock before her warm tongue slides around the head again.

  “Not fucking easily, but I’ll survive.”

  She chuckles and takes me fully in her mouth. No. Can. Do. I see a small dirt road off the edge of the highway up ahead. I slow, put on my blinker, and make the turn. My truck takes the dirt easily and we end at a large metal cattle gate. I turn off the headlights, shut off the engine, and slide one hand into Shelby’s hair. The headband slides off with a little help and my fingers sink into her hair while my other hand grips the steering wheel.

  She peers up at me and I can just make out her swollen lips. I place my hands beneath her arms and lift her so her back presses against the seat. She lifts her hips and I push her skirt up. “No fucking panties, you dirty, dirty girl.”

  “I thought it would go to waste.”

  “Never.” I do a wiggling act that would make a contortionist proud and manage to push my pants and boxers halfway down my legs. I slip my fingers along her thighs until I find what I’m seeking. She’s wet and ready. I ease over her and thrust my hips to slide into her tight heat. We stopped using condoms a week ago. Shelby’s on the pill and we’re both clear of STDs.

  “I love you,” she sighs.

  I’ll never get tired of hearing it, and I’ll never be tired of making love to her. Shelby is my unconventional soul mate.

  I know the contoured seats must be uncomfortable for her, but she doesn’t complain. She goes off in a matter of minutes, and as soon as she does, it takes two more thrusts for me to join her. We’ve barely caught our breath when headlights shine in the back window. “Fuck,” I say when the red and blues give a short flash.

  Shelby starts laughing. This could go very bad. I do another contortion act and pull my pants up. Shelby is doing everything she can to squelch her laughter and is failing miserably. I power my window down as the flashlight comes closer and approaches my side. The bright light hits my eyes and I squint.

  “A little old for this don’t you think, Detective Street?”

  I knew whoever pulled up would run my plate. Shelby’s arm shoots across in front of me and she flashes her new ring at the officer. “You’re never too old for a little whoopee in the car when you get engaged.”

  I thought, maybe, I could get away with telling the officer we were having a make-out session.

  The officer’s laughter fills the cab of the truck. “Congratulations, Street,” he says. “I’ll let you get back to the whoopee.” With that, his flashlight turns away and he walks back to his car. I hear him laughing until the car door slams.

  “That was very gentlemanly of him,” is Shelby’s opinion.

  I don’t tell her the entire police department will know about this. Really, I don’t care. The woman I love has agreed to marry me. It’s a night to celebrate.

  20

  Shelby wants to wait a year to marry me. I chip it down to six months. We both want children after she graduates from law school. She was months away from her master’s when she decided to quit school the first time. The University of New Mexico accepted her into their law program, and she’ll graduate in three years. She’s still volunteering for HHW. We made a deal that if she feels the need to hit the streets at night, I’ll accompany her.

  I’m working another homicide case and have been exhausted for the past two weeks. Shelby keeps me fed and I try hard to get home at a decent hour. Tonight I fell asleep on the couch and Shelby’s soft kiss on my cheek wakes me.

  “Come on, sleepyhead,” she says with a tug on my hand.

  I follow her and shed my clothes when we’re in the bedroom. She folds them neatly and then tosses hers to the floor. We complement each other. I pull her into my arms and close my eyes. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep when my cell rings. I reach over Shelby and grab it.

  “Linc?”

  I instantly recognize the voice. It’s my brother Rutherford. “Yes,” is all I can answer because so many emotions are running through me.

  “I need your help. Before you turn me d
own, I have a woman with me. We’re in trouble.”

  Fuck and double fuck. “What do you need?”

  “A safe place to stay for a few days.” His voice is so damn stiff. No plea, just stating facts.

  “Can you get yourself here?” I had just bought this place when he took off.

  “Yes, two hours.” The line goes dead.

  I’m sitting up. I move the phone from my ear and stare at it.

  “Is everyone okay?” Shelby asks sleepily.

  “I’m not sure. That was my brother Rutherford. He asked to stay here.”

  “My place is available for as long as he needs.”

  Another reason to love this woman. I rest my phone on the nightstand and pull her into my arms. I’ll kill my brother if he endangers Shelby. Fuck, I’ll probably kill him within ten seconds of seeing him.

  In my entire adult life, Rutherford has never asked anything from me.

  He’s with a woman, and that surprises the hell out of me. My number one priority is keeping Shelby safe. If Rutherford fucks that up, there’ll be hell to pay.

  About the Author

  Holly S. Roberts is a retired homicide and sex crimes detective who loves long walks on the beach and sweet music. Not really... she hikes mountains with her Rottweiler and listens to hard rock with heavy bass and bad words. She's the USA TODAY Best-Selling author of the Completion, Club El Diablo, and Hotter Than Hell series. If a book doesn't have enticing romance, steamy sex, and hot alpha men, she doesn't read or write it.

  * * *

  You can discover more about her work at http://wickedstorytelling.com

  Also by Holly S. Roberts

  Hotter Than Hell Series

  HEAT

  SIZZLE

  BURN

  STREET JUSTICE

  IGNITE

  * * *

  Completion Sport Series

  PLAY

  STRIKE

  KICK

  SLAM

  RUCK

  * * *

  Club El Diablo Series

  ONE DOM AT A TIME

  PIERCING A DOM’S HEART

  TOUCHED BY A DOM

  DOMINATION IN PINK

  TWO DOMS FOR ANGEL

  CAUGHT BY TWO DOMS

  BAD BOY DOM

  LOVING TWO DOMS

  TEMPORARY DOM

  Yes, Sir by By Jenika Snow

  Brittin

  * * *

  When my brother and his problems had me coming back to Stales, my hometown, I was scared not just for my twin’s health, but also because I knew I’d run into Law, my bear-shifting ex, and the Sheriff of Stales.

  * * *

  Our breakup hadn’t been grisly, but after nearly two years, the thought of seeing him again had everything tightening in me because … I still loved him.

  * * *

  But that was the past, and I knew I had to move on, right?

  * * *

  Law

  Brittin was the only woman I would ever love. She was it for me, even if she broke it off because of my domineering ways. I screwed up when I lost her, and I spent the next two years regretting it. But she’d wanted space, and when she left for the city, I let her.

  * * *

  But now she’s back, and it’s my chance to show her I can give her everything she wants. It’s my chance to show her I can be the man she deserves.

  * * *

  I just hope I haven’t let too much time pass, because not having Brittin in my life is a fate worse than death.

  1

  Brittin

  I knew coming back to Stales was a bad idea, but I also didn’t have any other option.

  He needs my help.

  I thought of my brother, Blaine, my twin, the one person I’ve always wanted to shelter. He has issues, as does everyone, but at just three minutes older than Blaine, I always felt like I had to protect him … even from himself.

  I tightened my hands on the steering wheel and focused on the road. I left the city as soon as Blaine called saying he needed my help and that he’d really messed up this time. He had an anger problem when he was drunk and people started shit with him, even if said shit was harmless. Blaine also had a drinking problem, the same destructive one our father had.

  That’s how our father died. He’d gotten into yet another fight at the local bar—the same one Blaine frequented. Our father got his skull smashed in by a tire iron because he’d fucked with the wrong drunken asshole.

  And if he continues down this path, Blaine will end up dead, his head cracked open, and his blood alcohol to the point it would be surprising he even can be conscious. Just look at how that ended up for our father.

  The only good thing our father ever did for us was die, and as morbid and awful as that was to say, it was the truth. He’d been drunk more often than not, living off disability checks, using that money to pay the bare minimum of bills so he had a place to live, but the rest going toward booze. Hell, we had managed to survive off Ramen noodles, boxes of spaghetti and pasta sauce, and if we were lucky, some fresh fruit.

  And the only reason we’d had money while growing up was because Blaine had stolen some out of our father’s wallet when he’d been too passed out to notice.

  God, we’d both been through a lot, but Blaine had taken after our father, and I hated that he hated himself because of it.

  I know he did, because he’d told me more than once.

  I should have never left. He might not have relapsed if I had been here.

  I couldn’t think like that, though, because statistically speaking, with the amount of relapses Blaine had already experienced while I was living in Stales, he probably would have done it anyway.

  I blinked past the tears.

  God, I hated this.

  I increased my speed, the darkness around me nothing but a blur. I’d be in Stales soon, bail Blaine out, and then get him in a rehab program. It might be for the fifth time, but I wasn’t leaving Stales until I knew he was healthy.

  Can I even leave again?

  Truth was Blaine and I had gotten a small sum of money after our father’s death over ten years ago.

  I’d invested my portion and, at twenty-nine, had a sizeable bank account because of it.

  Blaine, on the other hand, had drunk all of his.

  I can’t leave him again. He’s all alone. He needs me, and shouldn’t be by himself. His disease will end up eating him up and spitting him out until nothing is left.

  And that’s why I’d left, because I couldn’t take the shit anymore. Blaine had been on the road to recovery when I’d moved to the city, had even been sober for the previous six months. But I was a fool to leave him, to think I could escape this town and my life.

  That had been nearly two years ago, and although I visited with Blaine during that time, I’d clearly been blind to how my brother really was.

  And then I thought about him, another catalyst to my leaving.

  My ex.

  The man I still loved more than anything.

  A bear shifter.

  Lawson “Law” Blackwater.

  God, just thinking of his name had chills racing up my spine. I shifted on my seat, remembering his touches, the way he was so possessive, and the flash of his animal behind his eyes.

  I saw the town sign come in my view, and my heart started pounding. Blaine had called me from the police station, which meant I’d have to bail his ass out and see Law. There was no getting around that fact: Law was the Sheriff, and he had his hands in every little thing that went down in town.

  It has been nearly two years since I’ve seen him, since I let him touch me.

  Law, the grizzly bear shifter that now ran Stales.

  Law, the man that had a name to match what he kept in line.

  I tightened my hand on the steering wheel; driving through the center of town had the memories of growing up here assaulting me. When I didn’t think about my drunken father, the motherless home life, the broken relationship with Law, or the fact my broth
er was digging his own grave, I’d loved this town. I had wonderful memories of it, but the bad outweighed the good, for sure.

  And then I made the last turn that would take me to the police station, and I felt like I was entering an alternate dimension, like I was about to jump into the very pits of hell.

  Okay, so that was a gross exaggeration, but right now, that’s certainly what it felt like.

  * * *

  Law

  I smelled the lemony, sugary scent of her before I ever caught sight of Brittin. My entire body stiffened, my cock hardened, and my bear rose up. I didn’t move, though, and stayed in the corner, sitting behind my desk, watching as she finally walked in. She spoke with Doris, the receptionist, and I had to grip the edge of the table to keep myself from going to her.

  It had been nearly two years since I’d seen Brittin, and no matter how much I’d wanted to go to her, throw her over my shoulder, and drag her fine ass back home—because I knew where the fuck she’d been—I stayed away.

  She’d ended things, and I wasn’t about to grovel for her love again.

  I’d screwed up, but she’d told me to let her go, and as hard as that had been, I’d let her go.

  But fuck, it had been hard.

  I curled my nails into the desk, my claws digging into the wood. I watched her speak with Doris, the worried look on her face. I knew when I’d brought Blaine in he’d call her. I knew she’d come for him.