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“Oh, fuck.” Relief flooded through me like a tsunami as I began to run down the stairs. “Don’t do that to me, Pratt.”
I stumbled to a halt when I reached the bottom. The site of Dewey cable-tied to one of Lucas’s exercise weight machines made me blink.
“He’s not going to touch you again, Ronnie,” Lucas said, looking up from Dewey’s right ankle as he yanked the thick red cable-tie binding it to the machine tight.
I drew in a deep breath. And another as Lucas straightened to his feet and slowly crossed to where I stood frozen.
I was numb. And angry. And hot. And worried.
But above all, I was so glad to see him I had no hope of not throwing myself into his arms when he was close enough to do so.
“Lucas fucking Pratt,” I burst out, face pressed to his chest, nails hooking into his shoulder. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
A low vibration rumbled through his chest as a relaxed chuckle bubbled up from him. “Do what? Fight a corrupt cop to keep you safe?”
I shook my head violently without lifting my forehead from his chest. “No. Don’t you ever fucking not be where I expect you to be.”
I burst into tears. I felt stupid and ridiculous even as they were streaming down my cheeks, but I couldn’t stop them.
Lucas shifted in my arms, pressed a strong finger beneath my chin and raised my head until I was looking up at him.
He was a smudgy blur, of course. A tear-soaked blur. “You’re a bastard,” I complained, trying to turn my head away.
He chuckled again. “Because??
??
“Because you are,” I grumbled back, frowning when he refused to let me look away.
“Okay, if you say so.” He gently stroked his thumbs over my cheeks, wiping at the fat tears trickling down them. “I’m a bastard. Are you opposed to kissing a bastard?”
I glowered at him, even as my tummy fluttered. “Yes.”
He laughed. I shoved at his chest.
He snagged my wrist with a loose grip as he took a step backward and pulled me to him.
“Too bad,” he murmured, threading his fingers through mine to snake my arm around his back as he cupped my jaw with his other hand. “Told you you weren’t a lesbian.”
I glowered at him again even as I accepted he was correct. He was an exquisite example of the male species, and I wanted him so freaking much. “Shut the fuck up, Pratt.”
He chuckled and took possession of my lips with his.
With a raw groan of surrender and want, I kissed him back. There truly was no other option. I wanted it too much.
His tongue slanted and stroked mine, the hard ridge of his cock pressed to the lower plane of my stomach telling me as clearly as the hungry ferocity of his kiss how much he wanted it as well.
I rolled my hips, aching for more.
He gave it to me, raking the hand on my jaw down the column of my throat, over my collarbone to the swell of my breast. My nipple beaded instantly against his palm, the reaction eliciting a deep moan of appreciation from him.
My head had just begun to swim with pleasure when he pulled away.
I whimpered in protest, chasing his lips with him.
“Ronnie,” he murmured, returning his palm to my jaw. “I could make love to you right now, on this very spot, but I’m not much of a fan of the idea of Dewey coming to and watching us.”
I startled, heat flooding my cheeks. God, how could I have forgotten about the corrupt cop so quickly?
