It was Sunday, his day off, two days after she’d laid it out. He’d come home from work both Friday and Saturday, Friday, right after work, last night, right after his workout after work. She was civil. She offered him dinner. She made him dinner. She did the dishes. Then she disappeared to the top floor and he didn’t see her again.
Her light was out.
And her eyes were on him now and he saw she hadn’t switched it on that morning.
And he didn’t like her light switched off. He didn’t like her keeping that light from him. And the fuck of it was, he was the asshole who’d switched it off in the first fucking place.
“Morning,” she greeted then her head went down and he saw she was scratching something on a notepad. She kept talking, her voice dead as it had been for three days and he didn’t fucking like that either. “I don’t know if you noticed but I got the bottled water on that note you left me.”
He’d noticed.
He’d also noticed she’d done his laundry.
He went to the fridge and got a bottle of the water she bought for him after he left a note about it, twisted the cap and sucked back a huge pull.
This he used as his affirmative response. He didn’t speak often because he didn’t feel he needed to speak when his actions could speak for him. At that moment, he also didn’t speak because he didn’t want to do something stupid, something that would set her off, something, anything that would make Lexie’s light shine through. Which was what he wanted to do.
“All right, I’m going. I’ll see you later,” she announced, moving to the sink to put her coffee cup there.
“Where you goin’?” he asked.
“There’s a garden center in Chantelle. Shambles told me about it. I’m going to get some flowers,” she told the island where she went to grab her purse which she did then she ripped off the top paper on the pad. Then her eyes skimmed through him and she finished, “Later.”
She started toward the stairs, shoving the paper into her purse but stopped and turned around when he asked, “Who’s Shambles?”
“The guy who owns La-La Land coffee,” she told him, started to turn back to the stairs but stopped and turned back at his voice.
“La-La Land coffee?”
“The coffee house in town,” she answered then started to turn again but stopped when he again spoke.
And he spoke when he shouldn’t have. He spoke because he was a dumb fuck. He spoke because he couldn’t hack it; Lexie shut off, not just off but shut off from him.
“You’re not goin’ to a garden center.”
Her head tipped to the side. “I am, the deck needs plants.”
“The deck doesn’t need plants.”
“Yes it does.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Okay,” she took one step toward him and the dead was gone from her voice, she was now speaking with strained patience, “you’re a guy so you don’t get this but when a man brings his new wife to his house, she does shit like plant flowers to put her stamp on it, make it her home, make it his home. People are going to expect me to do shit to put my stamp on your house and therefore, the deck needs plants.”
To this, Walker replied, “It’s Sunday.”
Her brows snapped together. “You’re right. It’s Sunday.”
There it was. Something. Not something big but confusion mixed with impatience.
He took it and without hesitation, fuck him, he went for more.
“So, a man gets outta prison, he gets himself a new wife, he brings her home, takes care of business by findin’ a job to provide for her, his first day off, his wife does not go to the garden center to buy plants in an asinine effort to put her stamp on a house. She stays home with her husband while he fucks her brains out.”
He watched the color hit her cheeks and her eyes flare and he liked it. It wasn’t that Lexie light but it was something. Something more than confusion and impatience and he took it too.
Then he watched her straighten her shoulders before she returned, “You’re right, Ty. A man who just got out of prison with a new wife, I can see this. I can also see him returning home right after work and getting his workout not at a gym but, as you put it, by fucking his wife’s brains out. But you haven’t been doing that. Even this morning,” she threw a hand out toward the door, “you didn’t engage in morning nookie with your wife but went for a run. You’ve established the pattern so, clearly, I’m not behaving outside the norm.”
“Maybe I didn’t fuck my wife this morning because I tired her out last night,” he replied and watched her hands shoot up in the air and drop as she lost patience.
There it was. He went for it. He got it. More.
“Well, you didn’t tire her out last night. You slept on the fucking couch!” she snapped.
“You drew that line, Lexie,” he shot back.
That’s when she lost it and how she lost it, she shredded the already frayed hold he had on his control. Frayed because she’d been picking at it from the moment he saw her standing beside the Charger outside in the hot as fuck southern California sun and, after she’d shut down, he’d kept picking at it.
“No, Ty, you drew it when one second you had your tongue in my mouth, your hands on me and me on my back in your bed and swear to God, swear to God, that was all you had to do, I was this close,” she lifted a hand and held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart, “to climax just with that and the next second you took it all away from me. All of it and you fucking know exactly what I’m talking about because the next second I was standing on my feet, you were two feet away but you might as well still have been in fucking California and then I watched you shut down.”
At her words, he felt his lungs seize but he managed to force out, “What?”
“You heard me,” she bit off and whirled saying, “Now I’m going. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
Oh no she fucking wouldn’t.
“Don’t walk away from me,” Walker growled.
She didn’t respond but she did keep walking away from him.
That was when Walker moved.
She was two steps down when he caught her around the waist and hauled her right back up. The back of her body slammed into his, he wrapped his other arm tight around her chest, turned, set her on her feet and marched her forward, his mouth to her ear.
“I said, don’t walk away from me.”
“Ty,” she whispered, now he had breathiness, surprise, maybe even shock and he’d take those too. Fuck him, he’d known her just over a week and he’d take anything from her.
Her hand came up and wrapped around his forearm at her chest.
He let her go at the waist, pulled her purse off her shoulder, dumped it to the floor and curled his arm back around her stomach, moving her the whole time, stopping her by the couch.
“Why’d you throw away your wedding bouquet?” he rumbled in her ear, she didn’t respond, he gave her a careful shake with both arms and clipped, “Why?”
“It’s just flowers,” she whispered.
“It wasn’t just flowers.”
“Ty –”
“Why?”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly.
He gave her another careful shake. “Answer me, Lexie. Why’d you throw your bouquet away?”
“It was just flowers.”
“It wasn’t.”
“No, you’re right. It wasn’t,” she told him softly. “Then, after you put me in my place, it was.”
He closed his eyes and shoved his face in her neck.
He couldn’t do this. For two days he told himself he could, this was better, this was safer, not for him, for her. He’d let her in, wanted her to come in and she did. Then he saw the error of his ways. Then, being a dick, he’d pushed her back over the line he’d drawn to keep her safe from his shit, from him and he’d made it clear she should stay there. She got his message, she couldn’t miss it.
But Christ, he couldn’t do it.
He had
to have her light back.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
“No.”
“Let me go.”
He moved his lips to her ear and whispered, “I hurt you, baby.”
Her body went still in his arms and she whispered back, “Don’t.”
“I was a dick; I fucked up and hurt you.”
“Stop it.”
He tightened his arms and pressed his temple into her hair.
It was soft as well as thick and smelled fucking great. He wanted his hands in it. He wanted to feel it on his skin. He wanted to feel it all around as her mouth worked his cock.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Lexie,” he murmured into her hair.
“Please stop it.”
He slid his hand from her arm, up her shoulder to wrap it around the side of her neck as he slid his temple down her hair so his lips were at the other side of her neck.
“You honest to God nearly came with only my mouth on yours?”
She gave a jerk at his change of subject but he didn’t let her go, instead, he held her closer.
“Let me go,” she demanded.
“Answer me,” he ordered in return. “All it took was my mouth?”
“Ty –”
“Answer,” he growled into her skin.
“No,” she hissed. “There was your tongue and your leg was tangled in mine and you also ran your hand down my side.”
That was nothing. That was just Lexie, giving everything, taking nothing.
He smiled into her skin instead of groaned.
“That’s all?”
“Can you let me go?”
“No,” he answered. “I wanna see what it takes.”
Her body stilled again. She read him. She read him clear.
“Ty –” she breathed.
He lifted his lips to her ear and whispered, “You gonna let me in there?”
“Stop.”
“Or do I even need to get in there?”
“Ty.”
“Maybe I can get you to give me that while you’re standin’ right here.”
That’s when he felt her shiver.
And that’s when he knew he could.
So that’s why he moved his mouth to her neck and touched his tongue there.
He felt her shiver again.
“Jesus, baby,” he muttered against her skin.
“Please,” she whispered.
He trailed his lips along her neck and asked, “Please what?”
“Let me go.”
“Do anything you ask, ‘cept that.”
She didn’t speak but he felt her chest rising and falling fast and his mouth worked behind her ear as his hand at her neck moved down her shoulder, her arm, to stop where his thumb could stroke the side of her tit.
And it did.
He heard her soft intake of breath but he didn’t hear the release.
“Breathe, Lexie,” he whispered into her neck.
“Ty –”
“You gonna give it to me right here?”
“Ty –”
His teeth nipped her skin and he prompted, “Yes or no, baby.”
Suddenly she moved; twisting in his arms, his head was forced to go up but it didn’t stay up because both her hands were at the back of it, pulling it down so his mouth could hit hers.
But his mouth didn’t hit hers.
Their mouths collided because she was surging up to meet him.
Her lips opened instantly and just as instantly, he swept his tongue inside.
Tasting her, Christ, his dick, already hard, jerked.
He had to have her and he had to keep his shit together. He didn’t, this could go very badly, not for him, for her. And he didn’t want that for her.
He twisted, falling back to the couch, pulling her with him, he landed, she landed on him and he rolled her immediately so he was on top, slanting his head, taking more, she arched her back, wrapping a leg around his thigh, her fingers at his head holding him close, not about to let go.
Fuck, she was hot.
And she wanted him in a bad way.
Testing that theory, he pressed his hips into hers and she moaned into his mouth.
Yeah. She wanted him in a bad way.
And he had to give it to her, give it to her before he took anything because he knew, once he got started, having pussy for the first time in years, that pussy being Lexie’s, he wouldn’t last long.
He tore his mouth from hers, his hands moving over her with intent, his lips whispering against hers, “Baby –”
“Don’t stop,” she begged, her hands at his head trying to pull him back, get his mouth, she lifted her head and he pulled back an inch.
“I’m not stopping, Lexie, but listen, yeah?”
He watched her face, her eyes hooded, his hand moved over her stomach, down the front of her shorts and she licked her lips.
Christ.
Beautiful.
“I’m gonna give it to you,” he murmured.
“Okay,” she breathed.
“No, not like that, first, I’m going to –” His hand had slid between her legs, over her shorts and he stopped speaking because her eyes closed, her lips parted and her neck arched.
Jesus, was she coming?
He cupped her between her legs.
“Baby?”
Her neck righted and her eyes slid half open. “Why do you keep stopping?” The words were half a breath, half a snap.
He grinned. “I’m not.”
“You’re not kissing me and you’re not touching me, how’s that not stopping?”
“Jesus, wildcat, keep your shirt on. I need to tell you –”
“Hello? Ty?” she called, arching her back, pressing her hips in his hand and he felt his hold on his control slip so he was hanging on by his fingernails. “I don’t want to keep my shirt on.”
“Lexie, you’re not helping.”
“Helping what?”
“Baby, I haven’t had a woman in five years. This isn’t fuckin’ easy seein’ as all I can think is I wanna bury myself inside you, good for me but it’s been so long, I take what I want, it’s not gonna be good for you. You wanna cut me some slack so I can make sure I see to you before I see to me?”
She blinked. Then her eyes warmed and he watched, right there, an inch away as she flipped the switch and her light flooded out, bathing him in brightness.
Then a loud knock came at the door.
She froze under him and he stilled on top of her. His hand was still between her legs and his cock was still hard and he was about ten minutes away from finally making his wife his wife and someone was knocking on the fucking door on fucking Sunday morning.
“Jesus, fuck, you gotta be kidding,” he muttered.
“Ty Walker! Carnal Police. Need a word.”
The limbs Lexie had around him tightened but his head turned to look at the back of the couch.
He didn’t see couch. He saw red.
“Jesus, fuck, you gotta be fucking kidding,” he clipped then knifed off his wife.
“Ty, let me get it,” she called from behind him.
“I got it,” he growled, prowling to the door.
“No, honey, please.” He heard her, she was up and on the move, he could tell by the way her feet hit the floor that she was rushing. “You need to let me get it.”
He didn’t let her get it. He walked to the door and tore it open.
Then he saw him.
Fucking motherfucker.
“What?” he clipped and then he felt her at his back, close, pressing her body to him, just to the side so she could peer around.
“You’re home,” good old boy, asshole, so fucking dirty he was filthy cop, Officer Rowdy Crabtree noted.
“Yeah, you’ve known that awhile, Rowdy, seein’ as you followed us to Carnal from the Colorado state line.”
He felt Lexie press closer to his back.
Rowdy didn’t respond, his eyes moved to Lexie who was peeking around his side.
&nbs
p; “Mrs. Walker, nice to meet you, ma’am,” he stated, dipping his chin.
Motherfucker.
“Uh… hi,” she said softly.
Rowdy’s eyes tipped up to Walker’s.
“Pretty. You get her off the internet, order her from prison or somethin’?”
Motherfucker.
Walker locked it down and asked, “You here for a reason, Rowdy?”
Rowdy nodded his head. “Yup. Just stopped by, makin’ sure you checked in with your parole officer.”
“Think maybe you could ask my parole officer that?” Walker asked.
“Didn’t think a’ that.”
“Well, you did, you’d find out from him that I did.”
“Well, that’s fine. Wouldn’t want you steppin’ outta line, doin’ somethin’ stupid, needin’ to go back and finish your time.”
There it was. Under their thumb. He went right to it. Didn’t even beat around the bush.
Fuck.
“Got a wife. Got a job. Got a life I’m pickin’ up, Rowdy. Just seein’ to my business and mindin’ only my own. Might wanna try that sometime,” Walker returned.
“Not possible for me, seein’ as I’m an officer of the law. Sometimes I need to stick my nose places,” Rowdy replied.
“Careful of that,” Walker said low. “Junkyard dogs might bite it off.”
His chest puffed up and he leaned in half an inch. “That a threat, inmate Walker?”
“Not an inmate anymore. I’m free. Hooked up with my parole officer. Hooked up with a job. Got a wife who knows my every move. Not gonna step out of line. Someone thinks I do, sees somethin’ they didn’t really see, got someone at my back to tell it as it is.”
And there he was. Right into it. Not beating around the bush.
And Lexie heard.
And she understood.
He knew this because she froze solid behind him.
Lexie got it, Rowdy, being Rowdy, didn’t.
Lady Luck Page 17