Golden Trail

  She studied him a moment before she said softly, “Then you’re going to have to suck it up, Layne.”

  Layne’s brows knitted. “Come again?”

  “Earlier tonight, you told me you fucked up with your boys. Now, Gabrielle has done it. Everyone knows Stew’s a jerk, she knows it too, deep down. She knows she’s fucked up, bringing Stew into her sons’ life not to mention bringing him into hers. I don’t want to sound like a bitch, but all this boils down to her and the decisions she’s made. She’s the kind of person who has to take that out on someone, even if it’s unreasonable because that someone was only trying to look out for her and their kids, then that someone, namely you, is going to have to suck it up.”

  He grinned at her. “Not sure you got much of a flair for reassurance, sweetcheeks.”

  Rocky grinned back. “Sorry, did I miss that part of my job description?”

  “Skipped right by it, baby.”

  “I’ll take time tomorrow to review it,” she told him.

  “That’d be appreciated.”

  The grin changed to the point he got the dimple and Layne gave himself a moment to enjoy lying in bed facing Rocky and her dimple before he said softly, “I watch Letterman, baby, you gonna be able to sleep through that?”

  The dimple faded and her face changed, showing him a hint of fear before she got her shields up and nodded and, if she hadn’t changed, she wasn’t lying. She went to bed at ten but Layne didn’t so it was more accurate to say she went to sleep at ten because most of the time she was stretched out on the couch with Layne watching TV and she fell asleep while he kept watching it. If she was really out, he’d carry her to bed but most of the time, when he moved, she woke up enough to stumble to their room, pull off her clothes, tug on one of his tees, collapse into bed and fall straight back to sleep.

  “Pass me the remote,” Layne ordered and she rolled, coming back to him, she handed him the remote.

  Then she stayed where she was, head in hand but her eyes directed down her body toward the TV. Layne rolled to his back and sat up, lifting his legs, whipping the covers out from under him and settling back against the headboard.

  Layne changed the channel finding a crime drama. He watched it then watched the News then watched Letterman.

  Jas was home five minutes into the drama.

  Tripp hit his bedroom fifteen minutes into it, Jasper following him half an hour later.

  Rocky was asleep after ten minutes of the drama.

  Layne fell asleep after trying to find it for half an hour after Letterman.

  * * * * *

  Now he was awake to find Rocky had moved during the night and she’d pinned him to the bed.

  They’d both set a record. It took him one night to get used to it and it took her one night to break out of sleeping in her tight, guarded ball and sprawl.

  He turned his head to the side to look at the clock and he saw that his dream Rocky had given him plenty of time.

  So Layne turned into his real Rocky, wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her up his body. She released a sleepy mew and Layne lifted his head then buried his face in her neck.

  He could smell a hint of her perfume.

  He kissed her neck and then touched it with his tongue, sliding it up to right under her ear, liking the taste of her.

  Her body started to come alert in his arms so he touched his tongue to her earlobe then moved his lips along her jaw then up, to her mouth.

  Her head tipped back and her voice was drowsy when she whispered, “Layne?”

  That was when Layne slanted his head and kissed her. He started soft until he felt her hands light on the skin of his chest. Then he touched his tongue to her lips and her hands slid up to curl on his shoulders. He touched his tongue to her lips again, her mouth opened, Layne slid his tongue inside and the tips of her fingers dug into his shoulders as she made another mew, this one not sleepy.

  At the sound of it, the feel of it against his tongue, what it meant and what it was doing to his body, he rolled her to her back and then he kissed her.

  Rocky tied herself up with him instantly, tangling her legs with his, winding her arms around his shoulders, one hand sifting in his hair, the other one drifting down his back and she let him kiss her, her back arching, her mouth unbelievably generous.

  His hands moved, up her t-shirt and in, skin on skin, her body warm from his and being cocooned in his bed, her skin soft, she pressed up into him and moved one arm down, shoving it under his so she could reach more of his back and she did, her fingers trailing. Layne’s hand went down to her ass, cupping her and pulling her into his hard cock and her fingers trailing the skin of his back became nails dragging against it.

  Hot.

  He stopped kissing her to mutter, “Yeah, baby,” against her mouth and her reply was simply a breathy, “Layne.”

  For some reason, hearing her say his name like that, in that voice, her body soft and warm under him, Layne suddenly lost control. His hands in her shirt pulled it up and he didn’t even notice her arms were already lifted by the time he got it over her head. He tossed it aside and went back to her, kissing her, harder, taking more and he got it, she gave it to him and he knew Rocky had lost control too. He knew this because her hands were urgent on his skin, both of them, moving, pressing in, fingers, nails, then down, sliding inside the waistband of his pajamas then across, then up, down, then inside and the fingers of both her hands curled into the muscles of his ass as her hips pushed up, her back arching, her soft tits pressing into his chest.

  “Fuck,” he muttered against her mouth then moved down her chest, not taking his time, his hands slid up her sides and he palmed one of her breasts then cupped it, lifted it, his mouth fastened around it, he took a second to swirl his tongue around her rock hard nipple before he sucked it deep.

  Her back left the bed and she fed herself deeper into his mouth as he heard a low, deep moan glide up her throat.

  Fucking hell. Beautiful.

  His other hand cupped her other breast, thumb sliding across the nipple then tweaking, rolling as he pulled hard with his mouth on the other and Rocky’s hands roamed on him, searching, clearly desperate, one moved around the front and curled tight around his cock.

  That felt so good, Layne groaned against her nipple and her back arched again, her hand tightening, she stroked him and pulled him closer at the same time, telling him she wanted more.

  He let her go and pulled himself up her body, one arm wrapping around her hips, the other hand trailing down her belly, she stroked his cock and his mouth hit hers.

  “You ready?” he asked and she arched her neck. “Baby?” he called, his fingertips sliding into the top of her panties, happy to find out for himself when her body locked, her hand left his cock and shot to his wrist, wrapping around.

  “No,” she whispered, she tucked her chin down and pulled his hand up her belly. “I’m sorry.”

  He tugged his wrist from her fingers and slid it along her waist, rolling her with him to take them to their sides.

  “That’s okay, honey.”

  She tucked her face into his throat and nestled into his body, repeating on a whisper, “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

  “Rocky, baby, that’s okay.”

  Both her hands were on his chest and he felt her fingers curl in so they were held in light fists against his skin.

  He kept one arm wrapped tight around her, her body close, and his other hand slid into her hair, the ponytail holder still in it, he gently yanked it out, tossed it to the bed and started to run his fingers through her hair.

  When her fists didn’t loosen, he asked gently, “You all right?”

  “I’m sorry, Layne,” she repeated.

  “Baby, I said it’s okay.”

  She pressed her face into his throat and then said so softly he barely heard her, “I’m on my period.”

  His hand cupped her head, his arm gave her a squeeze and he understood.

  She grew up with two men and no Mo
m at one of those times when a girl really needed her Mom. She had therefore guarded that fact of nature from the men in her house like it was a State secret. She did the same when she’d first moved in with Layne. Clearly, she’d not moved beyond this which, he had to admit, caused him some uneasiness because she was now thirty-eight years old, she’d spent ten years living with a medical doctor and it was a goddamned fact of nature.

  On the other hand, he was fucking thrilled she’d stopped the proceedings because she was on her period and not because she didn’t want them to continue. Not to mention the fact that she’d cuddled into him afterward instead of throwing a conniption fit, bolting from bed, getting dressed and stomping from the house.

  Layne didn’t respond and started sifting his fingers through her hair again. He did this until her fists uncurled and her hands rested flat against his chest.

  Finally, he whispered, “You gotta get up, Rocky.”

  “Yeah,” she whispered back.

  “Jas bought you a toothbrush. I’ll bring it up.”

  For some reason, her body locked and her hands moved quickly to his shoulders, fingers pressing in as her head tipped back, taking her face out of his throat.

  “Jasper bought me a toothbrush?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Layne answered.

  Her voice had changed, a lot, when she said, “Layne.”

  He grinned in the dark and replied, “I’ll go get it.”

  Her fingers curled deeper and she repeated, “Layne.”

  “Rocky, you need to get a move on.”

  He started to roll away from her but she rolled with him, coming up on an elbow in the bed, she planted the other hand firm in his chest and he saw her shadow looming over at him.

  “You asked your son to buy me a toothbrush?” she snapped, sounding hilariously disgusted.

  “He was out so… yeah,” Layne answered.

  She lifted her hand and smacked his shoulder with it, saying on a quiet shout, “Layne!”

  He knifed up to sitting and his arms went around her, he twisted and took her down to her back, his torso pinning her to the bed.

  When he got her in position, he informed her, “Sweetcheeks, everyone needs a toothbrush.”

  “I can’t believe you,” she hissed.

  “Am I wrong?”

  “You are not to be believed!”

  “Baby,” he murmured sounding only slightly less amused then he actually was.

  “Layne,” she snapped back sounding probably just as pissed as she actually was.

  Even though he couldn’t see her clearly in the dark, they went into stare down. He let this go on for awhile before he used option two, bent his head and kissed her hard. She resisted, he persisted and the minute he got his tongue in her mouth, her body relaxed under his.

  He took his fill and enjoyed doing it, almost too much, before he lifted his head and ordered, “Get yourself sorted out, sweetcheeks, I’ll be back with your toothbrush.”

  Then he intentionally squeezed the breath out of her so she couldn’t get a shot in by rolling his bodyweight over her, getting out of bed on her side, lighting the lamp on the nightstand and aiming a grin at her lying on her back but up on one elbow, the other hand holding the covers to her chest, glaring at him before he walked out of the room to get her toothbrush.

  When Layne hit the kitchen, he saw Devin sitting at a stool in his wife beater and boxer shorts, a mug of steaming coffee in his hand, his eyes on the News playing low on the TV. They cut to Layne when he appeared and they watched Layne walk to the toothbrush sitting on the island.

  The toothbrush Jasper bought Rocky was white and pink. Yes, his son was sharp. As a tack.

  Also on the island were two big, white baker’s boxes opened and stuffed full with Hilligoss donuts.

  Layne stopped and looked at Devin. “Please tell me you put on your pants when you went to the bakery.”

  “Of course, boy, it’s cold out there.”

  Thank fuck.

  Layne turned to the cupboard with the mugs, making a note to move them to the one over the coffeemaker and he did this in an effort not to think about why in the fuck Devin took off his pants when he arrived home from the bakery, when Devin went on, his tone mulish. “Calais is at the curb.”

  “That’s good,” Layne returned, walking his mug to the coffeemaker. “’Cause Rocky’s gonna blow through here in about five minutes and she’s probably gonna take out the garage door when she goes and it’d be a cryin’ shame she damages the Calais, seein’ as you put so much effort into keepin’ it in pristine condition for twenty-five years.”

  Without missing a beat, Dev muttered, “Better put my pants on then.”

  Layne poured a cup of coffee, spooned in two sugars and was stirring it when he turned and saw Devin sauntering back to the island in wife beater and slacks.

  “Remember a time when they left your room in the mornin’ with a smile on their face, boy, you must be losin’ your touch,” Devin remarked.

  “Figure you’ll be in town for awhile, old man, it might be good to brace,” Layne advised, dropped the spoon on the counter and took a sip of joe.

  Devin’s eyes locked on Layne’s. “We gonna have fireworks?”

  Layne dropped his hand holding the mug but held Dev’s gaze. “How easy do you think it is for a man to talk a woman into takin’ a risk on dark and wild?”

  “Lotta women not worth that effort,” Dev returned. “Though, the one you got on your hands, boy, it is and it is ‘cause it’s not gonna be easy at all and that means… kaboom!”

  Layne walked to the toothbrush and tagged it, saying, “Like I said, brace.”

  Then he turned and walked up the stairs and into his room. He found Rocky in the bathroom in her bra, her back to him, zipping up the back of her skirt.

  “Toothbrush, sweetcheeks,” he said and she whirled, one arm going to her middle, one arm covering her breasts but not before he saw her bra, too, was deep pink and made entirely of lace.

  Christ.

  “A moment of privacy, Layne,” she snapped, her eyes full of fire.

  Her hair was back in a ponytail and Layne tossed the toothbrush on the bathroom counter, set his mug down and walked up to her. He reached around, wrapped his fist around her ponytail, tugged her head gently back and kissed her hard and closed-mouthed.

  When he lifted his head he kept his hand at her ponytail so she couldn’t move.

  Therefore, she had to fight her fight verbally. “What was that?” she hissed up at him and he grinned down at her.

  “Hot piece of ass in my bathroom wearin’ nothin’ but a sexy bra and a tight skirt after she spent the night pinnin’ me down to the bed, I walk in on her, I’m gonna kiss her.” He gave her ponytail a playful tug. “Just keepin’ it real, sweetcheeks.”

  “Don’t call me a piece of ass,” she snapped, definitely pissed.

  “Baby,” he replied, not pissed at all.

  “And will you stop calling me sweetcheeks?” she asked on a demand.

  “No,” he answered.

  She glared at him then stated, “I did not pin you down to the bed.”

  “Rocky, you were all over me.”

  “Was not.”

  “You were.”

  “Was not!” Her voice was rising.

  “Why do you think you got the wakeup call you got, Roc?” he lied through his teeth. “Man wakes up with a woman wrapped around him, he acts on instinct.”

  She tugged her hair from his hand and stepped back, forgetting she was only wearing a bra and skirt, she planted her hands on her hips.

  “I see us sleeping together is not going to work,” she declared.

  “I don’t know,” he grinned, “worked for me.”

  She leaned back. “You do know, every cop on the Force thinks of me like a sister? It’s highly unlikely they’ll arrest me for assault and battery.”

  Layne couldn’t take it anymore, he tipped back his head and laughed and, since he didn’t have to fight the u
rge, his arm shot out and hooked her around the waist, yanking her forward roughly so her body slammed into his, he tilted his head forward and shoved his face in her neck so he could laugh there.

  “Layne,” she called, her hands on his abs pushing.

  “Give me a second, sweetcheeks, I’m tryin’ not to bust a gut here.”

  “Layne!” she shouted.

  His head came up and he smiled down at her. Then he kept smiling down at her as he wrapped his other arm around her shoulder blades and pulled her closer, trapping her hands between them.

  Then he dipped his face close to hers and he whispered, “You’re cute as hell when you get pissed. You always were cute as hell when you got pissed. I used to piss you off just to see you get pissed, I liked it so much.”

  Her hands stopped pushing and her lips parted as the fire died out of her eyes and she gazed up at him with that intensity in her eyes.

  He dropped his head so his forehead was resting against hers. “And, baby, I don’t like it any less now,” he whispered.

  He heard her suck in a soft breath but he ignored it, touched his mouth to hers and let her go.

  Turning, he nabbed his coffee mug and didn’t look at her as he walked out of the room, saying, “Dev went to Hilligoss. There’s two dozen donuts downstairs. You better get down there before the boys do, sweetcheeks, or you’re gonna be disappointed.”

  Then he walked out of the room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  My Kind of Partner

  The security beep sounded and Layne, sitting at his desk in his office, turned to look at the monitor.

  Colt was walking up the steps.

  Layne glanced at his watch and clenched his jaw. He was late. He was supposed to go over to Rocky’s for a quick dinner before they went to the boys’ game. But that afternoon a bitter wind started to whip through the ‘burg and he needed to go home and get a sweater. To get to Rocky’s, he should have left ten minutes ago. To get home and then get to Rocky’s, he should have left twenty minutes ago.