With Me: A Rivers Edge Christmas Novella

by Lacey Black

  As the end of our shift approaches, exhaustion sets in. I was able to find a few Tylenol in one of the desk drawers, which definitely helped with the dull ache in my head. Ramsey has barely spoken two words to me since the call, which made for a swell remainder of our shift. Nothing says fun like your partner barely speaking to you. And to top it off, I don’t even know why he’s so angry. The tick of his jaw and the tightness around his eyes lets me know he’s working through some shit in his head, so I let him be.

  When the shift finally ends, I run smack dab into another overprotective Stevens male in my life. Uncle Jake is standing beside my desk, his hands perched on his hips, as he waits for me to say something.

  “Good morning,” I reply, glancing around and finding everyone else scurrying off as quickly as they can. It’s like they know there’s about to be a battle and they want nothing to do with it.

  “Office. Now.”

  Exhaling loudly, I take a quick glance around the room for Ramsey, but don’t find him. Even my own partner took off running. Awesome.

  “What the hell happened?” he demands as soon as I cross the threshold.

  “I detailed the call in my report,” I start, standing tall.

  “I read the report and listened to the playback on the call.”

  “Okay?” I ask, clearly confused about why he’s so angry with me. I did everything by the book.

  “Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice finally dropping and, if I’m not mistaken, cracking just a little. He’s not a superior speaking to his subordinate. He’s an uncle talking to his niece.

  “I’m fine, Uncle Jake.”

  He flops down in the chair. “Do you know what it’s like to get a call saying that my niece was assaulted?”

  I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t assaulted. Harold took a swing at me, but I was ready for it. He missed by a mile, and I put him on his ass.”

  The corner of Uncle Jake’s lips ticks upward. “I heard.”

  “You did?”

  He nods. “Yeah, I talked to Ramsey before he left.”

  “Oh.”

  “He said you handled yourself well, but I don’t like that the big guy was able to buck you off like that. How’s the head?”

  “It’s fine. Two Tylenol and I’m all good.”

  He stares at me from across the desk, the relief evident in his face and his eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  Giving him a wide smile. “I can handle myself.”

  He chuckles. “Don’t I know it. You remind me often enough,” he grumbles. “You’re so much like your father that it hurts sometimes.”

  I can’t help it, I smile proudly. There’s no better compliment.

  “Get out of here and get some rest. If your head starts to bother you, go to the ER and get checked out. I don’t like that you bumped it. Maybe I should call Will and Carmen and have them check on you,” he says, jumping up and coming around the desk. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before now. I’ll call them,” he adds, reaching for his cell phone.

  “Don’t you dare. I’m fine,” I insist, touching the side of my head that connected with the wall. “Barely a bump.”

  He watches me for several seconds before nodding his head. “Fine, but if you start to feel any pain or discomfort, call me. Call Will. Call the fucking president of the hospital, okay?”

  Again, I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

  Then, he envelopes me in his big body and squeezes me tightly. “Fuck, I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Thank you, Uncle Jake,” I whisper, pulling him down and kissing his scruffy cheek. “Tell Aunt Erin and the kids I said hello.” With a quick wave goodbye, I’m out the door and heading to my truck.

  The drive home is short, thankfully, and the sun is just coming up when I pull into the driveway. My head is hurting just a little, but I wasn’t about to tell my overprotective uncle that. He definitely would have had me admitted for observation in the hospital before I even had a chance to argue.

  I park my truck in the garage and quietly climb out. Elaina will be getting up soon for work, but I always try to be respectful and as silent as possible to not wake her before her alarm goes off. As I turn to close the garage door, a figure in the doorway has me screaming.

  “It’s me,” Ramsey says, his voice gravelly as he holds his hands up in surrender.

  “Shit, Becker, you scared the crap out of me,” I mumble, my hand over my heart as it races in my chest. “What are you doing here?”

  “I need to speak to you.”

  His posture is stiff, even though his hands are casually shoved in his pockets. He’s anything but casual right now. “Umm, okay. Come inside the garage. It’s freezing out there,” I say, motioning him inside the garage so I can close the door.

  When it’s completely down, I turn to face him. Now, I can see the worry lines and the streaks of fury in his gorgeous hazel eyes. “What the hell did you think you were doing?” he harshly whispers, taking a few steps until we’re face-to-face.

  “Excuse me?”

  “This morning. You intentionally put yourself in the line of fire. You could have been hurt,” he growls, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly with his anger.

  “I could have been hurt? I intentionally put myself in the line of fire every day, Becker. That’s the job.” Now I’m pissed. With my hands on my hips, I stare him down, refusing to give even an inch. Hell, a centimeter.

  “I know what the job is, Brooklyn, but that doesn’t mean you need to be so fucking cavalier about it.”

  “Cavalier? Are you fucking kidding me, Becker? I did everything right this morning.”

  “Yeah, until he threw you off of him like you weighed nothing. You slammed your fucking head into the wall.”

  Another small step forward. “I bumped my head on the wall, and it’s not my fault he outweighed me by fifty pounds.”

  He runs his hands through his hair. “What if I hadn’t been there? Huh? What if he would have gotten the jump on you and really hurt you?”

  “He wouldn’t have done that,” I reassure. Deep down, I truly believe Harold wouldn’t have hurt me.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. But I was trained the same way you were, asshole. I would have done whatever it took to get myself out of any situation that transpired.”

  He growls, again. Like a wild animal kinda growl. It’s surprisingly hot. “I’ve never wanted to spank someone as much as I want to spank you right now.”

  “Really? Is that how you treated your other partner?” I seethe through clenched teeth.

  “Hell no. I’ve never wanted to spank my old partner’s ass and then fuck him senseless.” His eyes are wide with rage, but I realize then it’s not directed at me. It’s the situation. Becker isn’t angry at me, per se, he’s pissed that I was hurt. He’s pissed that something happened to me, right under his nose. He’s pissed that he wasn’t able to stop it.

  I’ve never wanted a man as much as I want him.

  Right now.

  Without even thinking, I throw my arms around his neck and plaster my lips to his. He stumbles, but only for a second. Becker easily catches my weight, turning and pressing me firmly into the fender of my truck. His lips are urgent as his tongue presses into the seam of my mouth. The moment I gasp, his tongue delves inside, stroking hard against my own. I feel his hands gripping my ass, pulling me against his hard body as if he can’t get me close enough. I jump up and wrap my legs around his waist, his body easily supporting my weight.

  “Fuck, the thought of something happening to you makes me want to lose my mind,” he murmurs against my neck, his beard scraping ever so deliciously against my skin. I grind my center against his erection, evoking a loud animalistic roar from his chest. He turns his fiery hazel eyes on me, the want and desire as evident as the nose on his face. “Tell me to stop, Brooklyn. Tell me and I’ll go back to my own place and we’ll never speak of this again.”

  My brain might be a li
ttle foggy with lust, I know damn well that I’m not about to turn him away. Not today. Not ever. I want him too badly. “Don’t stop,” I whisper, rotating my hips and finding sweet friction against my clit.

  He stares at me for just a few seconds before returning his lips to mine. The kiss if full of urgency, need, and maybe even a bit of danger. There’s definitely something to be said for sleeping with your partner, especially after just over a week on the job. But I can’t seem to stop, even if I wanted to. There’s this pull, this connection to Becker Ramsey that I can’t fight anymore.

  I don’t want to fight it.

  He sets me down on wobbly legs, my fingers instantly diving for his shirt. Sometime between getting home and coming over to my place, he managed to shower and change into a Henley shirt and a pair of worn blue jeans. I push the shirt up, exposing rock-hard abs and a chiseled chest, the kinda thing girls everywhere dream about.

  Becker makes quick work of unfastening the small buttons on my uniform top. The moment he has them all released, he rips it open in a flurry of desire. My fingers trace his perfectly defined abs as the release of Velcro echoes in the small garage space. He pulls my bulletproof vest up and over my head, tossing it somewhere behind him. The next thing to go is my cami, which is pulled upward, exposing my blue and white satin bra.

  “Fuck,” he groans, running coarse fingers over my pebbled nipples. “I’ve been dying to taste you for so damn long.”

  “Yes, please,” I beg, arching my chest in his direction as my hands dive for the fly of his jeans.

  With his pants released, he focuses on relieving me of my own pants. My service belt is removed and carefully dropped, followed quickly by my standard blue uniform pants. “These pants drive me crazy,” he states, pushing them around my hips and watching them fall to the concrete floor.

  “I have to admit, that’s the first time anyone has ever complimented these ugly pants,” I breathe, pushing his own jeans around his hips and down his thighs. And holy mother of God, those thighs. They’re thick like tree trunks with corded muscles in every which direction.

  But that only holds my attention for a second.

  Because now I can see exactly what my partner has been packing in his pants, and I’m not talking about his nine-millimeter service pistol. I’m talking about the very large, very thick, very hard cock pointed at me. “Commando?” I ask, my eyes dancing back up to his.

  “I was in a hurry. When I heard you pull in, I just threw on an old pair of pants,” he answers as my hand wraps around his shaft, gently stroking from root to tip. He groans in pleasure, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Fuck, your hand feels amazing.”

  Using my toes, I kick off my shoes. The moment they’re gone, Becker is there, ripping the pant legs from my feet and discarding my uniform bottoms behind him. I’m left standing there in matching panties, my cami pushed up and exposing my bra, with my uniform top still hanging oddly from my shoulders.

  When his lips press to mine, there’s an urgency mixed with the heat. My body tingles, begging for his hands, but they seem occupied. That’s when I hear the foil packet tearing. I rip my lips from his and glance down. “You’re awfully prepared. Were you a Boy Scout?”

  Becker snorts. “Actually, yes, yes I was, but that’s beside the point. As I was flying out the door, I grabbed my wallet and keys so I wasn’t locked out. I just happened to have a condom in there.” I watch as he rolls the protection into place and gazes up at me. His eyes are all-consuming, yet searching. I can see the question as he brings his hand up and cups my cheek. I’m not sure I could speak over the dryness in my throat, so I nod my agreement. I need him to know I want this.

  Want him.

  Understanding setting in, he reaches around and grips my ass, lifting me against him. My legs instantly wrap around his waist and help hold me in position. His cock is pinned between my body and his, and not at all where I need it most. I start to wiggle, gyrating against it, hoping like hell he’ll catch on.

  He runs his nose along my neck, his warm breath tickling my skin and sending goose bumps racing over my exposed body. My hands grip the back of his shirt and graze over heated flesh. His back is crazy-hard and makes me want to explore it later—with my tongue. But right now, there’s an ache between my legs that only he can quench.

  Becker adjusts me slightly and slips his hands between our bodies. Thick, rough fingers slide along my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my blood. A groan spills from my lips as he presses the cold steel of my truck into my back. “You’re so wet,” he whispers, his words tight and full of anticipation.

  “Please,” I beg, needing to feel him inside me more than I need my next breath.

  Slowly, he moves aside my panties and slides two fingers inside of my body. The stretch almost burns as he tries to get me ready for him. My entire body is a live wire of electricity, the crave of him outweighing the slight discomfort of his fingers. I’ve had exactly two sexual partners in my life, both in college with long-term relationships, but neither of them compared to the size of Becker’s thick fingers, and even thicker cock.

  And then he’s moving, finally lining himself up with me. I don’t even care that my panties are stretched and will probably need tossing after this. He keeps them to the side and I can feel the nudge of his cock, my muscles tightening with anticipation. “Relax, Bee,” he whispers, taking my lips with his. This kiss is a bit gentler and helps me relax in his arms. The moment I do, however, he slowly thrusts upward, filling me completely.

  His lips are glued to mine as we both moan in pleasure. The burn is quickly replaced by pleasure as he rocks back and presses forward again. “Oh my God,” I whisper, my head falling back.

  “So fucking tight,” he grunts, splaying his hands across my ass and holding me still.

  I can feel the twitch of his cock as my muscles loosen and adjust to his size. His lips descend on my neck, sucking hard against the sensitive skin. I pull myself up, gyrating my hips and taking him even deeper.

  “Fuck, you gotta stop moving, Bee, or I’m gonna blow,” he grunts, trying to hold me still.

  “Please,” I beg, not really sure where this voice is coming from. I need more, plain and simple.

  Becker’s hands tighten. I’m sure I’ll have two large handprints on my ass later, but I don’t care. All I care about now is claiming the orgasm that’s on the horizon. He carefully pulls out, connects his hazel eyes to mine, and slams forward. Shockwaves of pure bliss surge through my body, but he gives me no time to think. He pulls back and does it again, over and over again, pushing me closer and closer to release. With each thrust of his hips, he tickles that spot inside my body I swore was a myth.

  I moan, my legs clamping around his hips as he pistons inside of me. His hands on my ass move, somehow spreading me apart just enough that he hits a different angle. “Becker,” I gasp, my eyes wide as my release starts to take hold. I throw my head back, bright white lights of euphoria sweeping through me, as he pounds into my pussy, drawing out every bit of release he can.

  Then, he finally grunts, thrusts his hips hard and lets go. I can feel every jerk and pulse of his orgasm as my muscles contract around him. I sag in his arms, my body suddenly too heavy to hold myself up. “I got ya,” he whispers, holding me tightly against him as his lips press against my heated neck. They’re tender as he places open-mouthed kisses along my rapidly beating pulse point.

  After a few seconds, which in reality is probably a few minutes, Becker starts to let me down. My legs are shaky as hell as blood starts to flow to my lower extremities. Exhaustion is knocking at the door. The adrenaline from work, the argument, and the sex that followed is rapidly vacating my body, and I know it’ll be mere minutes before I’m out like a light.

  As if sensing my fatigue, Becker grabs handfuls of our clothes that are scattered around the garage floor and heads toward the door. I try to right myself, but it’s hard. My nipples are still hard and hanging out of my bra and my panties are b
asically stretched out and ruined, which causes a blush to creep up my cheeks.

  Becker nods toward the door, carefully balancing all of our clothes in one arm and grabbing the doorknob with the other. He listens for a few seconds, and when he hears nothing, silently opens the door. I glance at my watch, grateful that it’s still a few minutes before Elaina will be getting up for work. We creep through the kitchen and down the short hall, wordlessly making it to my bedroom, where I close and lock the door.

  I make my way to my dresser and grab an oversized T-shirt. I’d normally run through the shower before bed, but this morning, I can’t seem to find the energy. Instead, I shrug my work shirt off my shoulders and replace it with the soft cotton I’ll sleep in. Becker is moving around behind me, most likely taking care of the condom from earlier. Keeping my back to him, I reach inside the shirt and remove my bra, setting it on top of my uniform shirt. My panties need to go too, but there’s something very intimate about removing them with him still in the room.

  That or maybe it’s because I’d totally dig up the energy for a second round of sex with the one man I shouldn’t entertain the idea with.

  When I turn around, I find him standing there, watching me. He slipped his wrinkled Henley back over his torso and put on his worn jeans. They’re still unfastened, and I can see a glimpse of that happy trail that travels southbound from his navel. My mouth waters.

  “I should,” he starts, nodding to my door.

  I know he’s telling me he should go home, but I can’t help the palpitation in my chest at the thought of him leaving. “Oh, yeah,” I state, nodding frantically. The lump in my throat is there, making it hard to breathe.

  His hazel eyes connect with mine. He holds my gaze and I swear I can see everything. His confliction, his concern, and his desire. “I don’t want to leave.”

  Those five words send my heart soaring in my chest and I have to fight from letting a smile spread across my lips. “You don’t have to,” I find myself saying, even though he probably should.