Ridin' Solo (Sisters From Hell Book 1), Marika Ray [librera reader txt] 📗

The way his hands had gripped me tight when we kissed. Drink.

The way he insisted the real thing was better than my toys. Drink.

The fact that I’d felt what he was packing and knew he’d be better than that stupid dildo. Drink.

Before you knew it, we were all heading home, and I was just barely below the legal limit. I climbed on my Grom and fired it up, supremely grateful that tomorrow was a day off. I wasn’t a regular drinker and could only imagine tomorrow would come with a hangover.

Lights flicked on behind me as soon as I turned out of the parking lot of the bar. A glance in my mirror told me a large truck was following me.

Fucking Wyatt.

He was following me home again. He’d been doing it every night after work, thinking I didn’t notice. I was a cop. Of course I noticed I had a tail. When he hadn’t shown up at the bar, I’d been both disappointed and relieved, a confusing mix of emotions for a girl who saw the world as black and white. Wyatt was confusing in general. I’d had male friends before, but not one of them had flirted with me to the point it turned me inside out. I was either pissed off or turned on with very little in between, which made doing my damn job difficult.

I turned into my driveway a little too fast, slamming to a stop and hopping off a foot before the carport. Making sure to stomp my feet, I headed into my house and slammed the door, not at all satisfied with my tantrum. The lights were all out as I went upstairs, but I was blazing hot enough to light up the block. I flopped down on the bed with my helmet still on, stewing over my situation.

How dare Wyatt confuse me like this? How dare he disrupt my perfectly put-together life? Who did he think he was, the city boy storming into my small town and shaking everything up? How dare he follow me home like he has some right to watch over me? I didn’t need him or his overprotective habits!

I wrestled with my helmet and finally threw it down on my bedroom floor. Heading back downstairs. I yanked the door open again, stomping off into the night, fueled by anger and bubbly and very little forethought. My sister Amelia was often a loose cannon, a personality type I didn’t understand, but in the dead of the night as I kept my gaze on Wyatt’s front door like I could burn it down with my superpowers, I understood her just a little better. I was pissed.

And tipsy.

The next thing I knew my fist was banging on his door and he was whipping it open fully naked with his gun drawn and pointing at my feet.

And he was happy to see me.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a rush, looking over my shoulder and then back at my face, confusion evident.

Fuck me. The man was built. Long, muscular legs with thighs a professional athlete would envy. A light dusting of hair that led my gaze right to his thick cock, currently pointing right at me.

“Hi. Nice to meet you,” I whispered in a daze.

A strangled noise hit my ears, but I ignored it, too intent on looking my fill. The man had those muscles over his hip bones. The ones that made a woman lose her mind. The kind I wanted to lick.

“Did you just introduce yourself to my dick?” Wyatt asked incredulously, the hand not currently holding the gun appearing in my line of sight to cover himself. Holy cannoli, he couldn’t do it. The cock was too long for his hand. Wyatt had the holy grail of cocks.

My gaze fluttered up, and my head swam. What was I doing here again? I caught a whiff of his cologne and it set my gut on fire. It also made me remember why I was here.

I was mad.

Also highly turned on right now, but dammit, I was angry.

I pointed a finger at his chest, wishing it were touching skin further south. “You sent me a dildo.”

He backed up a step and set his gun down on a table by the door. I took a step inside his house, drilling my finger into his chest. I could have wept at how warm his skin felt.

“I have to smell your stupid cologne every day in the damn cruiser. Do you bathe in it?”

His head reared back. I took another step closer, having to tilt my head back to keep my frown headed in the general direction of his face, my index finger now caressing his chest more than drilling.

“Why are your stupid uniform shirts so tight on your arms? Did you have them tailored specifically to cut off blood supply?”

His lips quirked to the side.

My other fingers got jealous, so I flattened my palm against his chest. “It’s bad enough I have to work with you all day with your juvenile sexual innuendos, but then you do sweet things like bring me dessert coffee. Who does that?”

Wyatt’s head tilted down and he leaned in, his face just inches from mine. He didn’t look scared.

“And these muscles? It’s ridiculous. I should have a partner with a potbelly and a receding hairline, not some…cop calendar model.” I stuck my bottom lip out, my voice petering out.

“Are you done?” Wyatt whispered, his breath fanning across my face.

I frowned, searching my brain for why else I was mad at him, but couldn’t quite grasp any solid threads. “I think so,” I whispered back.

And then we both pounced, our lips tangled together, his hands tilting my face, and my arms coming around his waist to feel his broad back. We were moving, legs and feet tangling together and a door slamming behind me as his tongue assaulted my mouth. My hands went on a trip, finding the globes of his rock-solid ass fascinating material.

Wyatt wrenched his