K-9 Recovery

by Danica Winters

  He felt silly, but Elle telling him what to do was so damned sexy, he could have eaten it all up. “As you command,” he said, slipping the buttons clear of the holes and leaving his shirt open and loose.

  “All the way off,” she said.

  “Elle.” He whispered her name in surprise as he slipped his shirt off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. He reached for her, but she stepped back playfully.

  “What?” she asked, giving him an innocent look. “Vest, too.”

  He peeled the Velcro straps open and pulled the vest over his head. Then he stripped off the white T-shirt that he always wore underneath.

  She sucked in a breath as she watched him, making him smile. That was one hell of a reaction, a reaction he would never get enough of hearing.

  “I thought you were feeling out of practice?” he teased.

  “That doesn’t keep me from knowing exactly what and how I want it. It just means I’ve had plenty of time to think of all the ways I want to be pleased.”

  He pressed hard against his zipper. There was just something so sexy about a woman who could talk openly and honestly about sex. If they could say what their hearts desired, then they were probably more than happy to do all the things they wanted to do with their body, as well. And that, that freedom, was something he had always found a great quality in a lover.

  She may have been out of practice, but he had no doubts that she was going to be the greatest lover he had ever been with. Then, he had to be grateful for any woman who wanted to give him the gift of allowing him to enter her body.

  The thought of slipping inside her, slowly...so slowly...and watching her face made him feel as if he was going to drip.

  “Now what do you want me to do?” he asked, opening his arms and exposing his naked chest to her.

  She stepped closer and ran her fingers over the tattoo on his left pec. “What was this for?” she asked, tracing the edges of the black bear paw.

  Her fingertips moved slowly along the paw; in their tenderness it reminded him of the pain and reasons he’d chosen to get the tattoo. “One of my best friends was killed in the line of duty. He was shot while performing a routine traffic stop that turned ugly. I got it in his memory, over my heart—I never want to forget that in my world, every day is a gift.”

  She moved in closer, pressing her body hard against him. “That is beautiful and so true.” Her hands slipped down his chest, running over the lines of his stomach and toward his utility belt.

  He reached down and unclicked his belt, carefully taking it off so it didn’t bump against her. There was nothing worse than dropping that heavy-ass thing on a toe. He threw it on the couch behind them. Before turning back, he glanced at the front windows and made sure the drapes were pulled closed. The last thing they needed was someone walking by and peeking in on what he hoped was about to happen. He needed to protect her privacy as much as he did his own.

  “We should take this to the bedroom.” He reached for her hand, and she nodded, leading him down the short hallway.

  The place was simple, two bedrooms and a bathroom, kitchen and a living area. For his life it would have been perfect. He had to imagine it was for hers, as well.

  She slipped the door closed behind them and clicked on a bedside lamp, casting her purple bedroom in a thin light that made everything in the room seem like something out of a burlesque club. He hadn’t imagined her bedroom being anything like it was, though he had to admit he had never thought of anything in her bedroom besides her.

  There were black satin sheets on her bed, and just like the woman they belonged to, they whispered of fantasies so close to being realized that he was forced to reach down and unzip his pants.

  “Take them off,” she said, motioning to his pants.

  He slid the zipper all the way down and then let them fall to the floor, exposing his gray boxer briefs. She smiled as she glanced at his package, and her expression made his heart leap with joy as he took pride in knowing she liked what he had to offer.

  Yet she had no idea. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was knowing how to please a woman. There was nothing that he would rather do than bring the woman he was with pleasure. He’d heard about men being selfish lovers, only caring about getting theirs, but what was the point of such behavior? He would get his, that wasn’t a question, so why not take joy in the journey of pleasure that two people could experience together?

  He’d never understand a woman who stayed with a man who wouldn’t try to make sure she enjoyed herself to the fullest. If he wasn’t selfless in the bedroom, what made a woman think he would try to make her happy outside the bedroom?

  “Where is your mind right now?” she asked, looking up at him with an inquisitive look on her face.

  He smiled. “I was thinking about all the ways I want to pleasure you.” Reaching over to her, he slipped his hands under the edges of her shirt and slowly pulled it up and over her head, exposing her hot-pink lace bra. He felt stupid for thinking she was a blue underwear kind of girl when she stood there wearing this.

  If he wasn’t already hard enough to cut glass, the sight of her luscious curves would have done it. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to have to apologize for losing control.

  “It’s your turn.” He motioned to her pants.

  Instead of listening, she turned to her phone and clicked a few buttons. As impatient as he was for things to continue, he was glad for the reprieve. Chris Stapleton started to play from a Bluetooth speaker she had set up in the corner of the room. This was a girl who knew how to set a mood.

  With the beat of the music, she unbuttoned her pants and slipped them down her thighs, pulled them off and threw them on the footboard of her bed. She was wearing hot-pink panties that matched her bra. He’d once heard that if a woman was wearing matching underwear, then they had chosen to have sex when they’d gotten dressed that day. Had she known this was going to happen all along, that they were going to find themselves in a position to share their bodies?

  The thought alone turned him on, and in combination with her standing in front of him...damn.

  A growl rippled from his throat, and he pulled her into his body. He wanted to rip those panties off her with his teeth and then gently kiss every part of her body that the lace had touched.

  She gasped as his mouth found her throat, and he cupped her breast in one hand and the small of her back with the other. Every part of her was about to become his.

  “Tell me you want me, Elle.” He sounded raspy as he spoke her name, and she shivered under his touch.

  “Grant, I’ve wanted you...since the first time we met.” She was breathless with want.

  “I know that’s not true, but I appreciate it anyways,” he said with a slight laugh. “I was a dick when we first met, and I’m sorry. But I’m glad you saw past that...that you were patient with me while I found my way to you.” He kissed the lace at the top of her bra, taking in the soft scent of flowers on her skin. “To here. To now.” He pushed the lace away, exposing her nipple and pulling it into his mouth.

  She threw her head back and arched her back as he sucked. He popped it out of his mouth and licked the sensitive nub, then rubbed it gently with his thumb as if thanking it for allowing him the honor of tasting her.

  She gasped as he repeated himself on her other side.

  He moved his hand between her legs, over her panties, and traced her wet, round mounds until he found what he was looking for. Dropping down to his knees, he pulled off her panties, not wanting to destroy his new favorite article of clothing—one he hoped to see again in the future.

  He lifted her leg over his shoulder and pulled her into his wide-open mouth. He grabbed her, holding her upright even though her body threatened to collapse. He licked her like she was a Popsicle, not just some damned little lollipop. He wanted her all in his mouth and he wouldn’t stop u
ntil she was either dripping down his chin or begging for something else.

  He was her plaything, and they were both going to love every second of it.

  Her body moved in tandem with his tongue, rolling and pressing, pulling and sucking. It could have been minutes or hours, he had no idea. He was lost in her.

  “Grant...” She moaned his name as he felt her clench around his tongue and gasp. “Oh my...” She moved, and he didn’t miss a beat as she fell back against the wall and gave herself fully to her release.

  She panted his name as she pulled him up to his feet. “You...are fantastic,” she whispered, taking his lips and licking herself from them.

  Reaching down, she slipped him inside her, and as she did, he knew that without a single doubt, he had found the woman and the place that could be his forever.

  Chapter Fourteen

  She was shocked Zoey hadn’t texted or come and knocked on her door by now; she was normally super quick at pulling information from a multitude of sources even when on her own. Elle looked down at her watch. It was getting late.

  The last thing Elle wanted to do was to move from her place on Grant’s chest to pick up her phone and send Zoey a text, but now that she could think about something other than him, she needed to refocus on their case.

  Lily was still missing, and Elle had to believe she was alive somewhere, just waiting for them to find her. Maybe Zoey had come up with something by now.

  With a groan, she moved off his chest, and he finally looked up. “Where are you going?” he asked, touching her back as she sat up.

  “Have you heard from anyone?” she asked, nudging her chin in the direction of his phone that was hanging haphazardly out of the back pocket of his pants. “I can’t believe we actually got to be alone for this long. Normally one of our phones is going off.” She frowned. Was something happening, something that was keeping everyone so busy that they had forgotten to inform them? Her anxiety rose.

  He sat up, grabbing his phone as she did the same. “All I have is the regular thing—texts from my guys at the department and a few emails. Nothing to do with the case. You?”

  She picked up her phone, and it vibrated in her hand. There was a text from Zoey.

  Shit. What did we miss?

  If something had happened while they had been making love and their temporary reprieve from reality had affected their case and finding Lily, she wasn’t sure she would forgive herself—even though the sex with Grant had been absolutely breathtaking.

  Zoey’s text was vague, nothing more than Give me a call.

  Did that mean she had found nothing? That all the information they had given her had proven to be of little use and they were really going to be starting from square one once again?

  They shouldn’t have waited. They shouldn’t have taken any downtime. Why did the needs of their bodies, to feel one another, have to be so extreme?

  She glanced over at Grant, who was leaning back in the bed and had one hand under his head against the headboard. His tattoo was stretched over his pec and she found herself staring at him again, wondering how she had gotten so lucky to find him in her bed.

  If she wasn’t careful, and if she didn’t have such a personal connection to the case at hand, she could have easily found herself falling back into those arms and going for several more rounds. She could have made love to him every day for the rest of her life, if the fates would allow.

  Yet she couldn’t help but worry that now he had been with her, he was going to wake up from whatever lust trance she had managed to cast on him and realize he was out of her league.

  She was an empowered woman in a male-dominated field, and logically she knew that what she felt was nonsensical, but she couldn’t help the dark voice in the back of her mind that told her she wasn’t enough for Grant. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time she had felt this way around a man. The last time, she had tried to make the guy happy, telling him what he wanted to hear at the expense of being herself and living her truth. In the end, she had morphed into someone she had thought he wanted instead of her authentic self, the one he had said he had once loved.

  She couldn’t overthink this if she wanted to keep Grant. Well, if he wanted to keep her.

  Running her hands over her face, she tried to wipe away the thoughts that were haunting her. She stood up and put on her clothes, slipping her phone into her pocket. She was almost afraid to face Grant in the event he would see she was already starting to feel insecure.

  Though she was sure she could feel safe with him, and as soon as he pulled her back into his arms she would feel right at home, she feared it. To fall in love, to be her authentic self with this man was to make herself truly vulnerable. And any time she had ever been vulnerable with a man—well, with anyone, really—she ended up hurting.

  Until she was sure he was worth suffering for, completely, she needed to protect her heart. And she wouldn’t protect it by giving herself to him again, or by giving away any more of her power in what relationship they did have.

  “I’ll take by you getting dressed that Zoey must have texted you?” he asked, making her realize she had never really answered his question and had just had an entire fight with him without ever saying a word.

  Or was it a fight? Maybe it was just her being self-conscious.

  If he took her in his arms and kissed away all the feelings she was having right now, he was the one—the man she could love, the man who could read her body and just solve all of her problems.

  “She wants to see us.” He picked up his clothes and started to get dressed, too.

  She’d hoped for a sign, maybe something in neon, that suggested they had a future together—she would have liked for him to be her forever—but she shrugged off the sentiment. She wasn’t a teen crushing on her idol. There was work to do.

  Making her way out to the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of water and a second one for Grant, putting his on the counter while she waited.

  Hoping for a sign might have been too much to ask for, but there had to be something that told her he was the one...something he did or said that could prove he wanted her for something besides her body and that thing that had happened between them hadn’t occurred just because it had been a possibility. She just needed some kind of solid proof that this was real and not just another lover—as much for herself as for him.

  Her phone rang, and she pulled it from her pocket. It was Zoey. “Hello?”

  She was met with the muffled sound of a phone being moved around and Zoey yelling things in the background. Though she wasn’t sure what she was listening to, Zoey’s voice made her blood run cold as she screamed for help.

  The line went dead.

  “Grant!” She dropped her water bottle.

  He came running down the hall, his shoes untied. “What? Are you okay?”

  “We have to go.” She grabbed her coat and slipped her gun into her waistband as she moved outside.

  He followed behind her as he readjusted his utility belt. “What’s going on?”

  “Zoey needs us.” She motioned her chin in the direction of the office.

  He tied his shoe and quickly caught up to her as she sprinted toward headquarters. There weren’t any cars she didn’t recognize in the ranch’s parking lot, but that didn’t mean anything. This ranch had been infiltrated by enemies before. It had happened before she was hired, but there was still talk about it to this day—normally after a night centered around campfires and whiskey, like the former attacks were some kind of horror story that were used to scare them at night.

  It worked.

  She shoved open the door to the office, and it slammed against the wall behind it. She expected to find Zoey midswing in some kind of fistfight. Instead, Daisy was on the ground wrestling with a stray dog Elle didn’t recognize. The stray was bloodied and its ear was half hanging on, and as it jumped up
to its feet, it snarled at her as though it was going to attack.

  “Daisy!” Elle screamed, watching as her dog lunged, taking down the dark brown mutt-looking dog.

  She wasn’t upset with her dog, but she was afraid. Daisy was her baby. Nothing could happen to her baby. And yet, there was nothing she could do.

  The dogs tore at each other, ripping with the teeth and diving for each other’s throats. Daisy seemed to be winning, standing over the dog and having it pinned down to the ground between her front legs. But the brown dog broke free and grabbed Daisy’s front leg and swept it out from underneath her, dropping her to the ground and taking the top.

  Elle’s throat threatened to close as she watched the dog tear away at Daisy’s fur, throwing black hair every which way around the office.

  She looked up at Zoey, who was standing there, looking as at a loss as Elle felt. What had happened that had caused the fight? Then, what did it matter? All that mattered was that Daisy came away from this unharmed. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing her baby.

  Just like everything else that had gone wrong, this was her fault, too. She had been so stupid. She should have been focusing on her case instead of taking Grant to her bed. If she had just kept her head in her work, Daisy wouldn’t have found herself in the position she was.

  It was no wonder Elle couldn’t keep Lily safe when she couldn’t even keep her own dog from being hurt.

  What would have ever possessed Zoey or the Clarks to ever entrust her with a damned child?

  “Daisy, come!” she yelled, hoping the dog could hear her over the melee, but Daisy only looked at her with the white-eyed stress eyes of a dog in trouble.

  She had to do something. There was no way she could stand here any longer and just watch as her dog was hurt.

  Picking up an office chair, she jabbed at the snarling stray, pressing against it with the wheels until the dog unlatched from Daisy’s throat. Elle’s fingers pressed into the coarse carpet-like fabric as she lunged, using the chair like it was a door-breaching ram.