“Yes,” Fluffy said into my phone, his gaze finding me. “Yes. I will.”
He handed the phone to Mom.
Mom?
What the hell?
“Hello?” Mom always has this way of sounding like she’s expecting to be attacked through the phone whenever she answers it. Right now was no different, although to be fair, she and Dad had walked into a situation straight out of a crazy action movie, so who knows what was going through her head at the moment.
Whatever Lila said to her, it made her frown. And then shake her head. And then nod. Yes, I take after her. Quite a bit.
With an uncertain “yes, I can do that,” she handed the phone to me.
I took it and pressed it to my ear. “What—”
Okay, so Lila had disconnected. I frowned at Mom, then at Fluffy. “What did she say?”
He crooked a finger at me.
“Sir,” the female paramedic protested.
Lowering my head to Fluffy, I ignored the glower from the woman.
Fluffy whispered an address in my ear, one I didn’t know.
Straightening, I frowned.
Pain flickering across his face, Fluffy slowly rose to his feet. “Keys are under the backdoor mat. Don’t leave there until either me, Dr. Winchester, or Lucas tell you to.”
I blinked. “Are you serious?”
Expression unreadable, Mom tried to wrap Fluffy’s arm around her shoulders.
“What did Dr. Winchester say to you, Mom?”
Mom blinked, chewed on her bottom lip for a second, and then looked at me. “She told me to check into the Happy Dreams Motel on the highway. She said she’d call me as soon as I could collect your father from the police station.” A frown pulled at her eyebrows. “She knew my name, my grandmother’s name. My social security number, the date your father asked me on our first date…” Her frown deepened. “Who is she?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s a long story, Mom. But I’ll tell you soon. I promise.”
She looked down at Fluffy, and then at me again. “Should I book into the hotel?”
I reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently. “Yes. I think that’s a very good idea.”
“Me too,” Fluffy rumbled.
“Sir,” the female paramedic said. A distant part of me recognized how pretty she was. “Please, we need—”
Fluffy—now completely upright—gave her a smile. “If you promise to let me take you to dinner tomorrow night, I’ll walk to the ambulance right this very second.”
“Sir, you may not even be alive tomorrow night.”
He grinned. “Then give me something to live for.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay. Dinner. Now let’s go.”
Trust me, if I didn’t miss the way her cheeks suddenly got pink and the way she quickly brushed her hair behind her ear before she wrapped her arm around Fluffy’s waist and walked him to the door, neither did Fluffy.
“Ma’am?”
I turned to the cop approaching me from the right.
“I need to take a statement.”
Behind him, the paramedic team that had arrived when Lucas was taken away were strapping Maureen Ford onto a stretcher. She was still out cold. How hard had Lucas hit her?
I nodded. And then told him everything I knew about her. About what she’d said, what she’d planned. How she’d shot Fluffy and Francis. Who she was to Trinity.
I’ve never seen a cop’s eyebrows rise so much.
When I was finished, he studied me with an intensity I didn’t know how to interpret. “You’re the woman who found Robert Walker, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
He drew in a slow breath. “Bobby’s mom is my cousin. Thank you. If you or your fiancé ever need anything, anything at all, just call me. I’m Isaac Simpson. Here’s my number.” He scribbled down a number and tore the page off, handing it to me.
A hot, thick lump filled my throat. “Thank you.”
He smiled at me, at my mom, and then—with a quick nod to his partner—headed towards Francis’s body.
I stood motionless. The address Fluffy had given me rattled around in my head.
“Ronnie?”
Throat still thick, I turned to Mom. “Hey, Mom. Thanks for looking after Fluffy.”
Her answering smile was wan. “I’m sure you are going to explain all this?” She waved her arm at the living room.
A tight band wrapped around my chest at the sight of the two cops standing next to Fluffy’s dog. Letting out a wobbly breath, I took her fingers in mine. “I am. But not now. Now, you need to go check in, and I need to…”
Process. I needed to process what had happened.
Bending down, I scooped up Groot and hugged him to my breast. “I’m glad you’re both here, even after what Dad did—”
“He did what any worried father would do.”
I wasn’t convinced, and by the look on her face, neither was Mom.
“But I have to be alone for a while.” I pressed my palm to Mom’s cheek. “Go check into the hotel Lila told you to. Decompress. Eat something. Lila will call you soon.” I smiled. “I promise.”
“Are you…” She studied me. “Are you happy? Are you and Lucas really in love?”
I smiled again. And then kissed her cheek. “I really am. And we really are. Very much so. So now, you need to be happy for me. For us, okay?”
She nodded. “Okay. I think I can do that. And so will your father. I’ll make sure of that.”
A great big ball of warmth rolled through my heart and I kissed her cheek again. “Love you, Mom.”
And with that, I hugged Groot closer to me and walked away. Heading for the garage.
I climbed into Lucas’s Dodge—the car we used for normal, everyday driving—opened the garage door and reversed out. Groot sat on the passenger seat, tail wagging, head out the window. It took us almost thirty minutes to arrive at the address Lucas had given me.
Sitting in the pickup, engine running, I regarded the cottage surrounded by wisteria and silky oak trees sitting way back from the street. Whose place was this? Someone I hadn’t met from Lucas’s life? God, could I cope with more skeletons from his past?
Switching off the engine, I petted Groot. “Let’s go.”
A few steps in and I realized where I was. Lila Winchester’s home. Photos of her and various animals adorned the walls. As did a few photos of her with…whoa, was that the Prime Minister of Great Britain? And the previous president? What the hell?
Putting Groot down, I shook my head. “Once again, you surprise me, Dr. Winchester.”
Not knowing what else to do with myself, I found the bathroom, washed all of Francis’s blood from Groot in the tub, and then had a shower. After that, I checked my phone for any messages or missed calls from Lucas or Lila. Nothing.
“Okay. Cup of tea and Netflix it is.”
I didn’t let myself think of Mom and Dad. I didn’t let myself think of Francis. I couldn’t let myself think of Fluffy.
I’d have a cup of tea and then let my brain turn to it all.
Tea made, I crossed to the cozy, paisley-filled living room and sank into one of the soft, old-fashioned armchairs.
“Processing time,” I murmured at Groot, who was making himself at home on the sofa. I placed my tea on the coffee table, folded my fingers over my stomach and closed my eyes.
Processing time.
I promptly fell asleep. I would make a woeful action movie heroine.
A warm sensation dragged me from the dreamless shadows of sleep who knows how long later. Warm, gentle pressure on the side of my neck, the curve of my shoulder. Warm pressure on my hip, my rib cage, my breast…
Delicious pleasure pooled in my core, tugging me from my sleep, and I moaned, the sound low and languid.
“I will never,” Lucas’s deep murmur played with my senses, “get tired of hearing you moan when I touch you.”
Opening my eyes, I let out a soft breath and met his gaze. “I’m I dreaming?
Are you really here?”
He lowered his head and brushed his lips over mine. “You tell me.”
I shook my head. “Impossible to tell. I could be dreaming. I could be dreaming you’re here, about to make love to me. About to slowly remove all my clothes and kiss me all over. It’s the perfect dream, after all.”
His throaty chuckle vibrated against my neck as he nibbled a path up to my ear. “It is. Also the perfect reality.”
I rolled my neck, moving on the chair. Every nerve ending in my body was awake now. Straining for him. After everything we’d been through, after the hell of Maureen Ford, here we were, back where we’d started…Lucas waking me up, his body, his hands, his lips on mine…
Letting out a soft whimper of bliss, I snaked my arms up around his neck and pulled him down to me, claiming his mouth in a hungry kiss.
He climbed onto the armchair, straddling me, his strong thighs framing my hips, his hands cupping my face. Our tongues slid against each other, clashed, battled, mated. I moaned, already on fire for him. Craving his skin on mine, his flesh in mine.
I raked my hands down his back, shoved them under the hem of his shirt. His warm, smooth skin branded my palms, a pulse of concentrated need blooming in my pussy.
Breaking the kiss, I pressed my forehead to his. “Lila dealt with the situation? You and Dad being arrested, I mean?”
“She did.” He nibbled at my cheek, my chin, my lips. “I told her we’d name our first child after her.”
A soft laugh escaped me. “Let’s hope we have a girl, th—”
He kissed me silent, his teeth and tongue propelling me towards a place I knew so well. And then his hands weren’t on my face anymore, but on my breasts, under my shirt, cupping and kneading them, pinching and teasing my nipples.
I arched into his touch, scoring his back with my nails.
He growled his approval, his hard cock pressing at my belly, his tongue growing more demanding in my mouth.
Surrendering to the pleasure was easy. I gave myself to him, incapable of checking my moans. When he reeled back, grabbed at my T-shirt and tore it up over my head I gasped, anticipation turning my sex to liquid heat.
“Some cop called Isaac Simpson says hi,” Lucas murmured, his stare fixed on what his hands were doing to my breasts. Cupping, kneading, worshipping.
“Hi,” I breathed, eyes fluttering closed. How the hell did he make me almost come just by playing with my nipples? How did he do that?
“I told him I would beat the shit out of him if he came near you.”
My eyes snapped open. “You what?”
His nostrils flared. “I’m the jealous type, babe.”
I blinked.
He laughed. “I’m kidding. Now…tell me, are you awake or dreaming?”
“Son of a bitch.” I smacked his shoulder. Happiness rushed through me. “I’m awake. I’m awake.”
He caught my wrists and pinned them to the top of the chair behind my head. “Good. Because this is going to be fucking incredible.”
“Wh—”
He crushed my mouth with his and rolled his hips. His hard cock pressed to my belly again, the heavy globes of his scrotum—trapped in his jeans—rubbing against my groin. There was nothing gentle about this kiss. This kiss was domination and surrender and hunger and pleading and perfection all at once.
My head swam and I groaned into his mouth, craving more. Craving his complete control of my body and pleasure.
“Fuck me, Lucas,” I begged as he nipped at the side of my neck. “Hard. I need you inside me. Now.”
He lifted his head, his jaw bunched, his chest ragged, and studied me. “I thought I was going to lose you today.”
Anguish and anger thrummed in the depths of his words. The same emotions crossed his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head and then rested his forehead on mine. “I thought… I couldn’t…”
“Lucas.”
He pulled away a little and gave me an enigmatic look.
“It doesn’t matter what life throws at us,” I said. “Nothing will stop us being together. Okay?”
For an answer, he kissed me.
And somehow, I’m not sure when, we ended up on the floor. He undressed me, biting and kissing every inch of skin he revealed until I was trembling and panting. Pleading with him to be inside me.
Taking one of my nipples in his mouth, he sucked.
I moaned, shards of liquid pleasure pooling in my core. “Oh yes.”
He moved to the other nipple, sliding his hand down my hip, and between my thighs to find my clit.
“Yes…” I begged.
He laved my nipple with his tongue, echoing the rhythm with his fingers on my clit. I clawed at his back, his shoulders. Holy crap it was good. So good.
“L-Lucas…” I arched. He suckled harder on my nipple, and slipped his fingers deep into my sex.
Oh yeah. Oh boy.
Fingers stroking inside me, he kissed a path up to the side of my neck. “I love you, Ronnie,” he breathed. “I live for you.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” I murmured back, tightening my inner muscles around his fingers as I tangled a hand in his hair. “No more giving-your-life-for-mine crap, okay?”
He chuckled, and then captured my mouth with his and I forgot everything we were saying.
I came. He didn’t stop though, his kiss growing hungrier, his fingers stroking and teasing me to another orgasm.
My bones melted. My head swam. I clung to him, riding wave after wave of intense pleasure.
And then he was between my leg, lapping at my clit, my slit. Fucking me with his tongue. Propelling me into a third climax that tore his name from my throat in a raw cry.
Holy fuck.
Panting, trembling, light-headed and utterly alive, I draped my hand over my eyes and let out a shaky laugh. “I’m definitely not dreaming. That was way too good.”
The faint sound of a zipper lowering made my already quick pulse leap away. Dropping my hand, I looked at Lucas.
He stood between my ankles, shoving his jeans down his legs.
His cock sprang upright, and as always, my mouth went dry at how impressive it was, and my pussy—already sodden—grew wet.
Gaze finding mine, he slowly smiled. “Who says it’s finished?”
Kicking his jeans away, he lowered himself between my spread thighs and—with that fluid grace I’d been infatuated with since I first saw him—buried his length deep into my ready sex.
Perfection.
We moved together, our rhythm an exquisite harmony. As we did, as Lucas cupped the side of my face in one hand and the back of my thigh with the other, our breaths mingled, our hearts hammered as one. He thrust deeper and deeper, his eyes holding mine, my name falling from his lips with every breath.
Until there was nothing but us, just the sensation of being one, together.
My fourth orgasm detonated, tight and hot and absolute. I cried out, pulling Lucas closer to me. And then he lost all rhythm and his strokes became wild, wilder.
“Fuck,” he groaned, emptying himself into me.
I moaned with him, undone by the sheer power of the moment.
Skin slicked with perspiration, we slowly grew still, Lucas slumping on me for a heartbeat before supporting his weight with his elbows. He stared down at me, still embedded inside. “I get it,” he murmured, thumbs brushing little patterns on my temples.
“Get what?” God, I loved the feel of him inside me.
“What you’ve been trying to tell me, show me, for a while now.”
“And what’s that?”
“I don’t have to wrap you in cotton wool.”
I raised my eyebrows.
He chuckled, sending delicious little vibrations through his body into mine. “I know, I know. How you handled Maureen, the cops, your parents…” He brushed his lips over mine and then shook his head. “Okay, so it was a little bit riskier than I would like, but you did it. You want to protect me as much as I want to prote
ct you, keep you safe. I understand it now. But I will never stop being scared for your life, babe, for your safety. And there will always be a part of me that will regret dragging you into my world.”
I opened my mouth to tell him to stop being an idiot but he shook his head.
“But I will never, ever listen to that regret. Nor let it come between us. You are my life. And I love that life more than I ever thought I could.”
I smiled up at him. “So, no more wrapping me up in cotton wool?”
“No more wrapping you up in cotton wool.”
“Good.”
He arched an eyebrow. “But tell me…what’re your thoughts on latex? Black, skin-tight latex?”
I laughed. He tickled me. And then we were kissing again.
Life with Lucas Pratt was—
My phone burst into life. So did Groot, scurrying into the room from wherever he’d been, barking and yapping and bouncing off furniture.
Laughing, Lucas rolled off me and scooped him up.
I stole a few seconds to admire his naked ass before climbing to my feet and retrieving my phone from my handbag.
It was Dad. Of course.
“Where are you?”
My chest tightened at the worry in his voice. Guilt joined in. But only a little guilt. He’d been a son of a bitch to Lucas—and me—for Pete’s sake. “Safe,” I answered, tracking Lucas as—buck naked, and with Groot tucked in one arm—he searched Lila’s refrigerator.
It didn’t surprise me he was hungry. We’d both expended a lot of energy just now.
“What does safe mean?”
I let out a sigh. “Dad, I’m fine. I will continue to be fine. I take it you have been released?”
“I’m out. Your mother tells me I have someone called Dr. Winchester to thank.”
“You do. Did you find Mom at the hotel?”
“No, she picked me up. We’re back at the hotel room now.”
“It has one of those fancy coffee machines in it,” Mom called from the background.
I couldn’t help but smile. I loved my parents. I really did. Despite what had happened.
“Is…” Hesitation filled Dad’s voice. “Has Lucas been…I mean…is he with you?”
I watched Lucas remove a gallon of what looked like OJ from the fridge. “He is. In every way conceivable.”
The Bad Boy In Cuffs Page 8
