Wild Man Page 40

  She swallowed, the smile died, and her eyes grew bright.

  Brock held his breath, his fingers clenching into her ass and he waited.

  “She was wrong,” Tess whispered. “I was right.” She drew in a breath through her nose, dipped her face closer, and the pads of her fingers dug into his neck when she finished. “We don’t have a white picket fence, baby, but I’m going to bake you birthday cakes until the day you die.”

  He let out the breath he was holding, the burn in his lungs moving to become warmth in his gut.

  His hands sliding from her ass up her back, one arm curving around, the other one going up her spine, her neck so he could sift his fingers in her hair as he whispered, “Sweetness.”

  “I’m glad it’s me who gets to bake your birthday cakes.”

  He was happy she was glad but he reckoned he was a fuck of a lot happier he had Tess making his cakes and not just because they were the best fucking things he’d ever tasted.

  He closed his eyes, shoved his face in her neck, and rolled her to back, groaning, “Tess.”

  “My Brock,” she whispered, her lips at his ear, her limbs moving to grow tight around him. “He’s not so wild.”

  He lifted his head and brought it close, locking his eyes with hers.

  “You’re wrong, darlin’. I got wild in me. And I’ll never lose it. It’s just that my wild is a safe place for you and it always will be.”

  Her eyes got soft and one of her hands slid from around him to cup his cheek as she nodded.

  Then her thumb moved to trace his lower lip as she asked, “Did you have a good birthday, Slim?”

  He grinned against her thumb and answered, “I started it in bed with you wearin’ a sweet nightie and I ended it in bed with you wearin’ an even sweeter nightie. So, yeah. Outside the drama at the hospital, I had a great birthday, Tess.”

  She grinned back and asked, “So you liked your birthday present?”

  His hand glided down the emerald-green silk at her side as he dropped his mouth to hers and muttered, “Fuck yeah.”

  Her fingers slid from his cheek and into his hair as she muttered back, “Good.”

  Brock was done talking and he shared this with his wife when he slanted his head. Tess read him loud and clear and tilted hers. He put pressure on her lips, she opened hers, his tongue slid inside, and she welcomed it.

  And, with that, his sweet Tess made a great birthday even fucking better.

  About the Author

  Kristen Ashley grew up in Brownsburg, Indiana, and has lived in Denver, Colorado, and the West Country of England. Thus she has been blessed to have friends and family around the globe. Her posse is loopy (to say the least) but loopy is good when you want to write.

  Kristen was raised in a house with a large and multigenerational family. They lived on a very small farm in a small town in the heartland, and Kristen grew up listening to the strains of Glenn Miller, The Everly Brothers, REO Speedwagon, and Whitesnake.

  Needless to say, growing up in a house full of music and love was a good way to grow up. And as she keeps growing up, it keeps getting better.

  You can learn more at:

  KristenAshley.net

  Twitter @KristenAshley68

  Facebook.com

  Also by Kristen Ashley

  The Dream Man series

  Mystery Man

  Law Man

  Motorcycle Man

  The Colorado Mountain series

  The Gamble

  Sweet Dreams

  Lady Luck

  Breathe

  Jagged

  The Chaos series

  Own the Wind

  Fire Inside

  Praise for the Dream Man Series

  “[Law Man is an] excellent addition to a phenomenal series!”

  —ReadingBetweentheWinesBookclub.blogspot.com

  “[Law Man] made me laugh out loud. Kristen Ashley is an amazing writer!”

  —TotallyBookedblog.com

  “Run, don’t walk… to get [the Dream Man] series. I love [Kristen Ashley’s] rough, tough, hard loving men. And I love the cosmo-girl club!”

  —NocturneReads.com

  “I adore Kristen Ashley’s books. She writes engaging, romantic stories with intriguing, colorful, and larger-than-life characters. Her stories grab you by the throat from page one and don’t let go until well after the last page. They continue to dwell in your mind days after you finish the story and you’ll find yourself anxiously awaiting the next. Ashley is an addicting read no matter which of her stories you find yourself picking up.”

  —Maya Banks, New York Times bestselling author

  “I felt all of the rushes, the adrenaline surges, the anger spikes… my heart pumping in fury. My eyes tearing up when my heart (I mean… her heart) would break.”

  —Maryse’s Book Blog (Maryse.net) on Motorcycle Man

  “There is something about them [Ashley’s books] that I find crackalicious.”

  —Kati Brown, DearAuthor.com

  Please turn the page for a preview of

  Law Man

  CHAPTER ONE

  Doohickey

  “HELLO, THIS IS Mara Hanover in unit 6C. I’ve called three times today and I really need someone to come over and look at my bathroom tap. It won’t turn off. Can you please have the maintenance guy come around? Thanks.”

  I shut down my cell after leaving my voicemail message and stared at my bathroom faucet, which hadn’t turned off after I was finished with it that morning. I had called the management office of the complex before going to work and left a message. When I didn’t get a call back, I called at lunch (leaving another message). Now I was home after work and it was past office hours, but someone was supposed to be on call all the time. I should have had a callback. I needed a callback. What I didn’t need was a water bill out the roof or to try to go to sleep listening to running water while thinking of my money flowing down the drain.

  I sighed and kept staring at the water running full blast out of my faucet.

  I was a woman who had lived alone her entire adult life. I’d once had a long-term relationship with a Five Point Five that got nowhere near living together. This was because I was a Two Point Five and he was a Five Point Five who wanted a Nine Point Five. Therefore, we were both destined for broken hearts. He gave me mine. He later found a Six Point Five that wanted a Nine Point Five. She got herself a breast enhancement and nose job, which made her a firm Seven (if you didn’t count the fact that she thought she was a Ten point Five and acted like it, which really knocked her down to a Six) who broke his heart.

  Regardless of the fact that I was now thirty-one and had lived alone since I was eighteen, I knew nothing about plumbing or cars. Every time something happened with my plumbing or my car, I vowed to myself that I would learn something about plumbing or cars. I would get that said something fixed and I’d totally forget my vow. Then I’d lament forgetting my vow in times like I was experiencing right now.

  I walked out of my master bath, through my bedroom, down the hall into my open-plan living-slash-kitchen-slash-dining area and out the front door. I crossed the breezeway and knocked on Derek and LaTanya’s door.

  Derek knew something about plumbing. I knew this because of two things. First, he was a man and men had a sixth plumbing sense. Second, I knew this because he was a plumber.

  LaTanya opened the door, and her big, dark eyes widened with LaTanya Delight.

  LaTanya Delight was different than anyone else’s delight and therefore deserved a capital letter. It was louder, brasher, brighter and cheerier. The look on her face communicated her joy at seeing me like she and I had been separated at birth and were right then being blissfully reunited. Not like she’d just seen me the night before when she came over to watch Glee with me.

  “Hey girl!” she squealed through a big smile. “Perfect timing. I’m about to mix a batch of mojitos. Get your ass in here and I’ll pour us some cocktails!”

  I smiled at her but shook m
y head. “Can’t,” I told her. “Something’s up with my faucet, the office hasn’t returned my calls, and I really need Derek to look at it. Is he around?”

  I sensed movement at my side and LaTanya did too. We both looked that way to see Detective Mitch Lawson walking up the stairs carrying four plastic grocery bags.

  If I were a Seven to Ten and in his zone, which meant I could be in his life, I would lecture him about plastic grocery bags. Considering the state of the environment, no one should use plastic grocery bags, not even hot guys who could get away with practically anything. Since I was not in his zone and I didn’t know him and couldn’t know him for fear of expiring from pleasure should he, say, speak more than a few words to me, I’d never get the chance to lecture him about plastic grocery bags.

  “Yo Mitch!” LaTanya greeted him loudly with Delight.

  “Hey LaTanya,” Mitch greeted back, then his beautiful eyes skimmed to me and his lips tipped up further, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I replied, locked my legs, ignored the whoosh I felt in my belly and looked back at LaTanya. She was checking out Detective Mitch Lawson—as any woman should or she would be immediately reported to then thrown out of the Woman Club. I heard the rustling of bags, but I ignored it and called her name to get her attention. When I got it, I repeated, “Is Derek around? I wouldn’t bother him but my faucet won’t turn off and I really need someone to look at it.”

  “He’s not here, Mara, sorry, babe,” LaTanya replied. “You said the office hasn’t called you back?”

  “No,” I told her and was about to ask her if she would send Derek over when he got home when I heard from my side:

  “You want me to look at it?”

  This came from Detective Mitch Lawson, and I sucked in breath and turned my head to look at him. He was standing outside his open apartment door still carrying his bags and his eyes were on me.

  My mind went blank. I lost the lock on my legs and my knees wobbled.

  God, he was beautiful.

  “Mara,” I heard from far away, and even though I heard it and it was my name, I didn’t respond. “Mara!” I heard again. This time louder and sharper, my body jolted and I turned to LaTanya.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Mitch’ll look at it, that cool with you?” she asked me.

  I blinked at her.

  No. No it was not cool with me.

  What did I do?

  I couldn’t have him in my apartment walking through my bedroom to look at my faucet. That would mean he’d be in my apartment. That would mean he’d walk through my bedroom. And that would mean I’d have to speak more than one word to him.

  Crap!

  I looked to Detective Mitch Lawson and said the only thing I could say.

  “That would be really kind.”

  He stared at me a second then lifted the bags an inch and muttered, “Let me get rid of these and I’ll be over.”

  I swallowed then called, “Okay,” to his closing door.

  I watched his door close and then I kept watching his closed door wondering if the weird feeling I was having was just panic or a precursor to a heart attack. Then LaTanya called my name again, so I looked at her.

  “You okay?” she asked, studying me closely.

  I had not, incidentally, shared my love for Detective Mitch Lawson with LaTanya, Derek, Brent, Bradon or anyone. This was because I thought they’d think I was a little insane (or a stalker). They often invited him to parties and such, and if he came, I would usually make my excuses and leave. They’d never cottoned on. I figured mostly because he didn’t often attend their parties due to his being a police officer with long hours, but also because he had his buds over for games and his babes over for other things. He wasn’t the type of man who went to gay men’s parties or LaTanya’s cocktail extravaganzas. The ones he went to I suspected he did just to be neighborly. Though Derek, more often than not, went to his place to watch games. Usually in order to escape LaTanya’s cocktail extravaganzas, which were frequent occasions.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied to her. “Just had a tough day at work,” I continued lying. “And I’m not happy the management office didn’t call me back. They don’t pay my water bill.” I wasn’t lying about that.

  “I hear you,” LaTanya agreed. “Service around here has taken a turn for the worse even though they upped our rent three months ago. You remember our fridge went out last month?”

  I remembered. I also remembered it took three weeks to get it replaced. Derek had been none too happy, and LaTanya had been loudly none too happy.

  “Yeah, I remember. That sucked.”

  “It sure did. Buyin’ ice all the time and livin’ outta coolers. I don’t pay rent for that shit. Fuck that.”

  Fuck that indeed.

  Detective Mitch Lawson’s door opened, and I realized my mistake instantly. I should have run to my house and done something. I didn’t know what. Nothing needed tidying because I was freakishly tidy. There was nothing I could do with my appearance, but I figured I should have tried to do something.

  He started walking our way asking, “Now a good time?”

  No, no time was a good time for the Ten Point Five I was secretly in love with to be in my apartment.

  I nodded and said, “Sure.” Then I looked at LaTanya and said, “Later, babe.”

  “Later. Remember, a mojito is waitin’ for you, when Mitch gets your faucet sorted out.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, smiled and then glanced at Detective Mitch Lawson before looking down at my feet, turning and walking the short distance to my door. I opened it, walked through, and held it open for him to come inside.

  He did and I tried not to hyperventilate.

  “Which one is it?” he asked as I closed the door behind him.

  I turned, stood at the door and looked up at him. He was closer than I expected and he was taller than he seemed from afar, and he seemed pretty tall from afar. I’d never been this close to him and I felt his closeness tingle pleasantly all across my skin. I was wearing heels and I felt his tallness in the depth of the tip of my head, which didn’t tip back that often to look at someone seeing as I was tall.

  “Pardon?” I asked.

  “Faucet,” he said. “Which one? Hall or master?”

  I didn’t have any clue what he was talking about. It was like he was speaking in a foreign language. All I could focus on were his eyes, which I was also seeing closer than I’d ever seen before. He had great eyelashes.

  Those lashes moved when his eyes narrowed.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Oh God. I had to get a hold on myself.

  “Yeah, fine, um… the faucet’s in my master bath,” I told him.

  He stood there staring at me. I stood there staring at him. Then his lips twitched and he lifted his arm slightly in the direction of my hall.

  “You wanna lead the way?” he asked.

  Ohmigod! I was such an idiot!

  “Right,” I muttered, looked down at my feet and led the way.

  When we were both in my bathroom, which, with him in it, went from a normal-sized master bath to a teeny-tiny, suffocating space, I pointed to the faucet and then pointed out the obvious.

  “It won’t turn off.”

  “I see that,” he murmured. Then I stood frozen with mortification as he crouched and opened the doors to my vanity.

  Why was he opening the doors to my vanity? I kept my tampons down there! He could see them! They were right at the front for easy accessibility!

  Ohmigod!

  He reached in, I closed my eyes in despair and wished the floor would gobble me up and suddenly the water turned off.

  I opened my eyes, stared at the faucet and exclaimed, “Holy cow! You fixed it!”

  He tipped his head back to look at me then he straightened out of his crouch to look down at me.

  Then he said, “No, I just turned the water off.”

  I blinked up at him. Then I asked, “Pardon?”

  �
�You can turn the water off.”

  “You can?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh,” I whispered then went on stupidly, “I should probably have done that before I left for work this morning.”

  His mouth twitched again and he said, “Probably. Though you can’t do somethin’ you don’t know you can do.”

  I looked to the basin and muttered, “This is true.”

  “There’s a valve under the sink. I’ll show it to you after I take a look at the faucet,” he said, and I forced my eyes to his. “You probably just need a new washer. Where are your tools?”

  I blinked again. “Tools?”

  His stared at me and then his lips twitched again. “Yeah. Tools. Like a wrench. You got one of those?”

  “I have a hammer,” I offered.

  One side of his mouth hitched up in a half smile. “I’m not sure a hammer is gonna help.”

  It took a lot of effort but I only glanced at the half smile before my eyes went back to his. This didn’t do a thing to decelerate my rapidly accelerating heartbeat.

  “Then no, I don’t have tools,” I told him, not adding that I wasn’t entirely certain what a wrench was.

  He nodded and turned to the door. “I’ll go get mine.”

  Then he was gone, and I didn’t know what to do, so I hurried after him.

  I should have stayed where I was. I’d seen him move, of course, I just hadn’t seen him moving around in my apartment. He had an athlete’s grace, which I had noticed before. But it was more. He had a natural confidence with the way he held his body and the way he moved. It was immensely attractive all the time, but seeing it in my apartment was not going to be conducive to peace of mind. Something it was difficult for me to find on a good day, much less a day when my faucet didn’t turn off and I was forced to endure an evening that included Detective Mitch Lawson having to be in my apartment.

  He stopped at the door and turned to me. “I’ll be right back.”

  I nodded, and he disappeared out the door.