CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Leighton
“Did you hear about the barn party?” I ask Brooks as we sit in the same room we occupied the first time I came here.
“Yeah.” His voice is devoid of emotion. “It was Dad, wasn’t it?”
I nod, I can’t put it into words. Not here, not now, not when I feel like I’m failing everyone by not being able to put the man who raised me behind bars. That’s mostly Holden’s doing though, and not mine. He doesn’t want me involved, but I don’t see how he’s going to prevent it.
“It’s not our fault,” Brooks’ voice is strong in his conviction. “I’ve done a lot of things that are my fault, and a ton of shit I’m not proud of, but this, Lee Lee, isn’t us. It’s time Dad takes responsibility for the lives he’s wrecked, just like I have.”
The phrase is jarring coming from him, and I realize he’s right.
“It’s not going to be easy.” I push my hair back behind my ears, in a gesture that’s more nerves than anything.
“Nothing we’ve ever done is,” he reminds me. “But I suggest you listen to your husband.”
My head snaps up. “Have you talked to Holden?”
“All I’m telling you is let him handle it. We’re going to see the light at the end of this tunnel. Both of us are.” He stops, twisting his fingers together. “Holden’s a decent guy, and I’m glad he’s taking care of you when I can’t.”
“He’s the best guy,” I amend.
Brooks smiles at me, looking younger than he did the last time I was here. “And you deserve nothing but the best.”
* * *
As I pull my car into the driveway, I see that Holden’s not home yet, and it makes me a little sad. I’ve counted on him more lately than I ever have. He’s been a rock for me, and we’ve been closer since the barn party. Caleb’s having a rough time, but we’re talking, and I know he’s going to pull through this.
Standing in front of the fridge, looking for something for dinner, I hear Holden stomping up the front porch.
“Hey babe,” he yells as he comes into the house.
“I’m in the kitchen.”
Turning to brace my hands on the island and watch as he crosses the threshold, I inhale sharply at the look of the man before me. Normally before he enters the house, he disarms, takes off most of his work stuff and stores it in his truck, but today he hasn’t done that. He’s standing in front of me, wearing his bulletproof vest, badge, and cuffs. I’m not sure where the gun is, and I can’t bring myself to care. My eyes flitter down to the cuffs hooked at his side.
“Something wrong?” he questions, raising a brow.
I debate for a full minute if I should say what’s running through my head. But the two of us? We’ve made huge strides in being honest with each other, and this is just another form. “The day you arrested me.” I tilt my head, eyes focused on those cuffs, bottom lip between my teeth before I let it go. My fingers are caressing the countertop, as they slide to the edge, gripping it. “I wondered what it would be like for you to use those cuffs in a sexual manner.”
“In a sexual manner?” his eyes widen with surprise.
“Yeah, like you cuffing my hands behind my back.” I stop. It’s hot as hell in here.
When he looks at me this time, his eyes are hazy, lids heavy with desire. “And fucking you from behind?” he finishes for me.
“Just. Like. That.”
A smirk lifts at the edges of his mouth, those lips of his I love curving into a bad boy smile, as he comes around the island to stand behind me. “Want me to do it right?” He asks as he leans in to whisper in my ear.
Immediately my body tightens, every single piece of flesh, every bit of muscle. I nod, not trusting my voice.
“Alright baby, first I’ll have to frisk you, ya know? Make sure you don’t have anything that can hurt me.”
The heat in the kitchen goes up a thousand degrees as I stand there. Waiting. Anticipating. Literally dying inside. Wondering what the hell he’s going to do next. The palms of his hands move down my tank-top, pulling it up and over my head. The noise is loud in the room as he drops it to the floor.
“The bra I’ll deal with.” He’s back in my ear again.
Standing in front of him with bare feet and him in the combat boots he wears most days increases the difference in our heights exponentially. I feel small and dwarfed by him, but I think that’s more the point than anything. Using his feet, he kicks mine apart, widening my stance.
“Hands on the counter, Leighton.” His voice is sharper, more forceful than he normally uses with me. It causes my hair to stand on end, my body to respond to the tone.
I press them harder against the cool surface, spreading my legs, and sticking my ass out, because I think that’s what he wants. As he runs his hands down my body, cupping my tits, and then pushing his palms down my stomach, before running them along my thighs, I almost lose my footing. Just when I think I can breathe again, he puts his hands over the top of mine, and pulls them behind my back, clicking the cuffs in place.
Pulling me back with his hands on the metal, my body brushes against his, letting me know just how turned on he is. Leaning down, he kisses me on the neck, before moving that sinful mouth of his up to my ear. “Is it too tight? I don’t want to hurt you.”
I test my bonds. “No, it’s good.”
“I have to know before we get going. What do you want?”
I lower my head, letting my chin touch my chest. “I don’t want sweet. I don’t want you to hold back. That night you arrested me I was pissed off, and I wanted to tear your clothes off because all I could think about was how hot you were.”
He inhales sharply. I can imagine the look on his face, the flare of his nose. He pulls my hair up in his hands, licking the back of my neck before he lets it fall and grabs hold of the metal holding the cuffs together. He pushes, but not hard enough for me to fall, just enough so that I feel myself teetering, directing me to the bedroom.
Just before I reach the bed, he stops us, standing there, but not touching me yet. I’m dying for the touch, want to feel his hands on my flesh. “Touch me, please,” I beg.
With those words, he pulls us so that we’re crowded against each other, running both his hands up and down my body. His palms roughly cup my breasts, pressing against the tight skin. They feel heavy as he pushes the lace down, gripping my nipples in between his thumbs and forefingers, working them rough and hard. I’m pressing back against his length, grinding against the hardness. “Fuck me, Havoc.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
One of his hands leaves my body; I can feel him unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down around his hips. The other hand, moves down mine, doing the same for me. I reach back with my still cuffed hands and cup his erection the best I can. The guttural groan I’m rewarded with is enough for me to lean forward, pressing my cheek to the bed, arching so we can connect.
He lifts me with his hands around my waist, pushes me toward the pillows, helping me get one under my face before he layers his front over my back, sticks a hand around my hip, flicks my clit, and then presses against me. I can’t grasp for anything, can only lie there as he pushes in, pulls out, and it’s the best sex I’ve ever had. I’m able to give my body completely over to him. I can feel Holden losing control as he roughly grabs hold of my hip and slams deep.
“Don’t hold back, let me feel what you feel,” I throw back over my shoulder. “Oh God,” I groan as he does just what I’ve asked him to do.
Minutes pass, or it could be hours, as he plays my body like an instrument. The orgasm, when it hits me is unexpected, as is the feeling when he withdraws, coming all over my back.
As I lay face down, him beside me, I realize I can’t feel my arms anymore, but at the same time it’s the best thing in the world. I start giggling, turning my face over so I can see him. When our eyes meet, his are warm with love and worry.
“Don’t worry,” I assure him as he goes to get the keys to the cuffs. “I loved this as much as I love you.”