Hours later, I hear the click of a key card in the hotel room door. I sit up fast, surprised to realize I dozed off while reviewing my presentation on statewide regulatory updates.
Here’s hoping attendees don’t do the same.
“Bree.” I run a hand through my hair and watch her face as she walks through the door and across the dimly-lit hotel room. “How did it go?”
There are tear tracks on her cheeks, but her smile is like the sun coming out. “Oh, Austin.”
The wobble in her voice isn’t sadness or regret. It’s relief. I’d know it anywhere, because that’s what I’m feeling now.
I start to stand, to embrace her as she reaches the bed. But she drops down beside me and wraps her arms around my torso, burying her face against my chest. “Thank you,” she murmurs into my shirt. “Thank you so much for everything.”
Thank God.
I stroke her back, basking in my own relief. There were so many ways this could have gone wrong. Marcella could have been angry or judgmental, could have set Bree back to square one. But she wanted closure, too.
“It was good then.” I slide my fingers through her curls as she burrows against me like an animal seeking warmth. She’s such a force of nature that I forget how small she is. Having her curled against my chest like this is a reminder of how tiny she is.
“How did you know?” she asks.
I don’t answer right away, not sure I understand the question. She draws back to look me in the eye, one hand flat on my chest. “How did you know that was exactly what I needed?”
“Talking with Marcella?”
She nods, circling her palm over my heart. “That, but also this. Touching you. Being held. Knowing you’re there for me, even when I didn’t know that’s what I needed. That you’re my rock.”
“Always,” I say, even though that’s a bold thing to stay. I’m not even sure we’re back together, so it’s crazy to start promising forever.
But that’s what I want, and her eyes tell me I’m not alone.
I stroke her hair again, loving the feel of those wild curls rippling through my fingers. “She said on the phone she always felt guilty,” I tell her. “When I called to set up your meeting with her, Marcella told me she always hated that you went to juvey for something you didn’t do.”
“It wasn’t her fault.”
“She knows.” Bree’s palm on my chest is making the blood drain from my head to places it shouldn’t be right now, and I’m determined not to be a creep. Not to take advantage of Bree’s vulnerability. “She wanted you to hear that firsthand from her. To apologize for letting you take the fall.”
“She didn’t need to apologize,” Bree says. “She told me I shouldn’t apologize either, but we both needed to. I’m glad we did.”
“Closure.”
“Yes. The start of it, anyway.” Her laugh shifts her body closer so her breast presses against my arm. “We talked about doing therapy together. It’s not a bad idea.”
“It could be helpful.” I hold my breath, wondering if she knows what she’s doing. That her palm is circling lower and lower, moving closer to my belt buckle. She shifts so her breasts sandwich my elbow, and I’m having trouble staying focused on the conversation.
She smiles like she’s just read my thoughts. Her green eyes are clear and bright, with the last remnants of tears evaporating like the end of a rainstorm. That’s not sadness I’m seeing in her expression. It’s something else. Something I recognize deep in my gut.
And other parts.
“Bree.” My breath catches as her fingers skim my belt buckle. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she says. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this right now.”
Jesus.
She licks her lips, and it’s all I can do to keep from lunging for her. “Do you want me?” she whispers.
“Yes.” My voice is husky, barely my own. “So much.”
And then we’re kissing.
It happens so fast that I’m not sure who moves first. We collide like gravity’s pulling us together, like we’ve been moving toward this moment for a thousand lifetimes.
I fall back onto the bed, not sure if I’m pulling her with me or if she pushed us into motion. She lands on my chest, the delicious, warm weight of her pressing me back against the mattress. God, she’s sweet. Her mouth, her skin, everything about her tastes like raspberries and sunshine. I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want Bree right now.
I slide a hand up the back of her thigh to steady her and connect with bare skin. Her skirt rides up as she straddles me, groaning as she grinds against my fly. We’re dry humping like a couple high school kids on prom night, and I ache with the urge to be inside her.
She draws back, and the heat in her eyes matches what’s simmering in my chest right now. “Make love to me,” she says. “Please don’t make me wait, Austin.”
God, the way she says my name.
And the way she’s looking at me, with an urgent craving in her eyes and in her voice. It ignites the same thing in me, and my last shred of restraint falls to the floor like a blouse torn off.
I tug at the zipper on her skirt while Bree yanks at my belt. Shoes go flying, and shirts and socks. Never in the history of human clothing have two people gotten naked as quickly as we do. If this were a stripping contest, we’d get a gold medal.
Her breasts fall free from the lace bra, and I cup them in my hands, dizzy with the weight of them. She leans into my palms and kisses me, thighs splaying open as her slick heat connects with the dull throb between my legs.
“Condom,” I groan, wondering where my pants went.
“On it.” She reaches behind her like a sex magician and produces the prophylactic. She’s got it on me before I can draw a full breath, and then she’s on me.
And I’m in her and oh, God.
My hands grip her hips as she slides slick and tight around me. “Jesus, Bree.”
She responds with a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a growl, hips moving with urgent need. She closes her eyes and tips her head back, curls falling around her shoulders. I watch her in wonder as her fingers slide down her chest and over her breasts, thumbs grazing her nipples.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
Beautiful and mine.
She’s moving with a rhythm I swear I can hear, like a song I’ve known for years and still love. Her core clenches around me and I feel her body tense.
“That’s it,” I murmur. “Take what you need.”
She opens her eyes and smiles, and my heart melts in a hot puddle. Her thumbs stroke her nipples, palms cupping the warm weight of her breasts. My hands rise to join them, fingers twining together as she slides down harder onto me.
“Austin,” she groans. “I’ve never felt so—”
Her voice breaks in a moan, but I know the rest of that sentence. Not the exact words, but this, this thing between us that’s like two souls spinning into one.
“You’re so deep,” she gasps. “So fucking good.”
I’m gonna lose it. The sight of her touching herself, of our hands joined together on her breasts, the feeling of her slick heat around me, it’s too much.
She tosses her curls, and I plunge right over the edge.
“Austin.” Her eyes go wide and I know she’s there with me. “Oh, God.”
We explode together, a clenching, clutching frenzy of sensation. She’s pulsing around me, gripping me tight as she rides each wave of shared pleasure. She throws her head back and screams, and I thank God I had the good sense to get a room on a different floor from my deputies. Not that I care. I’m so lost in pleasure, so lost in Bree, that I wouldn’t mind if the whole fucking squad sat on the foot of the bed and watched.
She comes down slowly, her body heavy with concrete-filled limbs. I catch her as she falls, palms circling her ribcage as I pull us down onto the bed and roll so we’re facing each other.
Bree opens her eyes and smiles. “I love you.”
Holy shit.
There’s a two-second delay while my brain processes the words and comes up with something smarter to say than Are you fucking serious?
“I love you, too.” I push a damp curl off her forehead. “So much.”
I’ve known for days, weeks even. But saying it out loud feels so good that I say it again. “I love you, Bree.”
Her smile widens as I kiss her softly and slip my fingers into her hair. We kiss like that for a long time, bodies pressed so close we’re touching at a thousand heated points.
She’s still smiling when she breaks the kiss. “Can we start again?” she asks. “You and me, a clean slate.”
“Always,” I tell her, no hesitation at all. “We can always start again.”
We pull into my driveway as the sky is turning pink and orange the next evening. Virginia bursts through the pet door doing her full-body wag, eager to inform me that Kim failed to offer unlimited kibble and a ribeye steak.
“It’s good to see you, girl.” I stoop down to scratch my pup behind the ears, but the traitor sets her sights on Bree. She scurries over and collapses at Bree’s feet with her tongue lolling, thumping her tail on the gravel to punctuate her adoration.
Bree laughs. “Hey, you!” She kneels down and doles out belly rubs as Virginia telegraphs the message that this is her best day ever. “I’m glad to see you, too.”
The sight of my dog and my girlfriend—holy shit, my girlfriend—slathering love on each other leaves me all warm and fuzzy, and I wonder what it would be like to do this every day. To come home to Bree and Virginia and hell, maybe a couple kids. I know this is all still new, but I can picture it like a television sitcom that’s playing on repeat in my brain.
Bree stands up and I help her to her feet. “I’m going in to start the pork loin, but you’re welcome to hang out with the dog,” I say. “There’s a Frisbee on the porch.”
Virginia pants with approval, tail beating a rhythm on my shoe.
“Nah, I’ll help with dinner.” Bree falls into step beside me as Virginia trots between us, barking her enthusiasm.
I’m relieved when I unlock the front door and remember that I had the good sense to tidy up before I left town. Kim and Meredith took turns caring for my dog, and they’ve set my mail on the counter. Someone—Kim, probably—stuck a bunch of daisies in a vase on the table, and the smell of cinnamon suggests one of them baked cookies or burned a candle.
“I like your place,” Bree says as she steps over the threshold. “It’s really homey.”
I hang my keys on the hook by the door as Virginia settles with a groan on her bed by the fireplace. “I didn’t give you a proper tour before, did I?”
Bree’s cheeks redden, and she glances away. “I guess my last visit was a little messed up, huh?”
“Come on.” I catch her hand so she can’t start down that path and pull her in for a quick kiss. “Let’s do a fresh-start tour.”
Bree smiles. “Deal.”
I lead her around the cabin, pointing out the bathroom off the kitchen and the guest suite where Meredith stays each time she dumps a live-in boyfriend.
“This master bedroom is amazing.” Bree trails a hand over the footboard of my massive log bed. “I like how you went with white and green and all the crisp pops of color instead of the red/gold thing most people do when they try for a rustic look.”
I scan my bedroom through her eyes, not ashamed to admit I can picture us having sex on every surface. “I can’t take credit for the decorating,” I admit. “Kim’s an interior designer. I hired her to do the whole place after I built it.”
“It suits you.” She presses a hand into the comforter, and I imagine myself tossing her back onto it and kissing my way up her body.
But there’s time for that later.
“Let’s start dinner.” I slip my fingers through hers and lead her back down the hall. “Want a glass of wine?”
“I’d love one.” She gives me a sheepish smile. “Still got the Pinot I brought?”
“Yep. Wine glasses are over there. Decanter, too, if you want to be fancy.”
“No need for fancy.” She sets to work uncorking the bottle while I turn and start pulling stuff out of the fridge.
“The pork won’t take long,” I tell her. “You okay with Caesar salad and roasted potatoes?”
“I can make the salad.”
I pass her a cutting board and my good chef’s knife while Bree finishes pouring the wine. She hands me a glass, and we set to work chopping and seasoning, our hands brushing each other’s bodies each time we move past one another in the small space. I love how we work together. I love being here with the woman I love, making a meal to enjoy together. When I reach past her to flip on some music, Bree laughs and wiggles her hips to the beat.
God, I love her.
Once the pork is grilling, I steal a few seconds to check my phone. “Sorry.” I flash Bree an apologetic look as I hit the keys to access my voicemail. “I haven’t checked in since I left the conference, so I need to make sure there aren’t any fires to put out.”
“No problem,” she says. “I should probably do the same thing, but I’m not ready to deal with my brothers.”
I dial the code for my voicemail and the automatic voice reports the grim news.
You have six new messages.
I sigh and hit the button to hear the first one.
“Hello, Austin. This is Joan Sampson. About that calendar—”
I close my eyes and stifle a groan of frustration. When I open my eyes again, I notice the first couple lines of transcription for the next messages are pretty much the same. There’s one from Mrs. Percy, too, and I scroll fast when I see the word “g-string.” Two more from Mrs. Sampson, and then—
“Everything okay?”
I glance up to see Bree watching me with concern.
“Yeah,” I mutter, scrolling to the final message. “Just my sixth grade teacher trying to get me naked again.”
Bree laughs and goes back to chopping. “Can’t say I blame her.”
I sigh and scroll to the final message.
Message six.
“Hey, Austin! It’s Aunt Genevieve. I’ve been trying to reach Bree, but her phone goes right to voicemail and her brother said she’s with you. I have some exciting news about the show. Could you please have her call me?”
Whatever noise I make prompts Bree to look up again. “Still okay?”
“More than okay. Here.” I dial Genevieve’s number, then put the call on speaker. It rings twice before Aunt Gen picks up.
“Austin,” she says. “Please tell me you’ve got that beautiful girl somewhere close by.”
“I’m assuming you mean Bree.” I grin and slide an arm around Bree as she eyes me curiously. “She’s right here, and you’re on speakerphone.”
“Hello, Genevieve.” Bree snuggles closer, and I’m distracted by all that heat and softness. “It’s great to hear your voice.”
“Oh, this is perfect,” Gen says. “I get to tell you both at the same time.”
Bree glances at me and bites her lip. “Tell us what?”
“I just got out of a meeting with the executive team,” she says. “They want to start filming in three weeks. We’ll do segments on Ponderosa Luxury Ranch Resort and on Jingle Bell Reindeer Ranch, too. The producers are thrilled to get it into the lineup so fast.”
Bree squeals and throws her arms around my neck. Her body feels unreal pressed up against mine, and I remind myself to send Aunt Gen a thank you note.
“Oh my God.” Bree bounces in my arms, and I’m treated to the delicious sway of her breasts against my ribs. “This is amazing. I can’t wait to talk to Jade and Amber.”
“I called them about ten minutes ago,” Gen says. “I swore them to secrecy, so I could call you myself.”
“You don’t know how much this means to me.” Bree is beaming, her green eyes lit with excitement. “To us—my brothers and me.”
“We’re excited, too,” she says. “I’m shooting you an email with the production schedule. It’ll be a mix of obvious things like the spa and the wedding site, plus local flavor. I’d love to get your ideas there.”
“You mean footage of things around town?” she asks.
“Exactly,” she says. “We want to capture the whole small-town vibe.”
“The Dandelion Café is cute,” Bree says. “You could get some B-roll at one of the breweries or downtown on Art Hop night.”
“How about the cupcake shop?” I suggest, wanting to be helpful.
“Good thinking,” Bree says. “I’m sure Chelsea would be up for it.”
“We’re looking for quirky things, too,” Gen adds. “Charming little details like a high school football game or a charity bake sale—that kind of thing.”
Bree gives me a look I can’t quite read, then winks. “How about a charity calendar featuring photos of local cops?"
Aunt Gen laughs. “Oh, that’s perfect. I’ll have my secretary get in touch with some meeting times and we can schedule a brainstorming call in the next couple days.”
Wait, what?
I’m still gaping at her as they say their goodbyes and hang up. I pull her into my arms, too happy for Bree to be annoyed about the calendar thing. “Congratulations. I know this is a big deal for you.”
“I’m so happy.” She bounces a little in my arms. “I never would have met her without you, so I owe you big-time.”
I palm her ass and grin. “My pleasure.”
She giggles and lifts up on tiptoes to kiss me. “This is amazing.”
I lose myself in the kiss for a few seconds before remembering the tail end of the conversation. With my sternest cop stare, I pull back and squeeze her butt a little harder. “Did you have to mention the damn calendar?”
Laughing, she slings a leg around my waist and pulls me against her so I’m pressed against her core. “Still not a fan of stripping for a good cause?”
“I’m all for taking my clothes off,” I say, grinding into her. “Just not for the townspeople or a bunch of old ladies. I don’t want other cops turned into sex objects, either.”
“I hear you loud and clear.” She gives me a mock salute. “From now on, you’re just my sex object.”
“That’s more like it.” I kiss her again, sliding a hand up to cup her breast. “So why the hell did you mention the calendar to Aunt Gen?”
“Because I have an idea for how to do it better,” she says. “This is part of my new self-improvement plan. Bree-two-point-oh solves problems instead of running from them.”
My thumb skims her nipple through the thin cotton of her shirt, distracting us both for a second. “I like all versions of Bree,” I tell her. “But I’d prefer whichever one is going to get me out of posing for a lecherous calendar.”
“No lecherous posing,” she assures me, doing something extra-lecherous as she slides a hand into the front of my pants. “You can keep your clothes on and everything.”
“For the calendar,” I clarify.
“Only for the calendar,” she assures me as I back her up until she bumps the counter, threading my fingers through her curls. “I have other plans for your immediate future.”
I can’t wait. Not just for the immediate future, but the one that comes after that. The long-term future, which I know involves Bree and me together. I can feel it.
I can also feel her unzipping my fly as I boost her up on the counter. “I’m really loving your ideas,” I tell her. “And I love the hell out of you.”
“And I love you, Sergeant Sexypants,” she says, shoving my jeans down over my hips. “Pants or no pants.”
“Let’s go with no pants.”
She giggles and tilts her head back to kiss me. “Deal.”