Flinging my arms around Walker's neck, I pull him closer and kiss him back. His facial hair deliciously scrapes against my skin. One of Walker's hands slides to my ass while the other glides to the small of my back as if he needs me closer even though our bodies are fused together.
His length hardens in his jeans, and I feel it pressed against my lower belly. My center pulses, throbbing.
Walker’s tongue licks at the seam of my lips, and I open for him. Our tongues duel for control, neither of us willing to concede. My teeth scrape his lower lip, and he moans, his grip on my ass tightening.
“Fuck,” he whispers. Walker drops his forehead to mine, closing his eyes. The muscles in his jaw stand out as he grits his teeth together. Releasing me, he steps back. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Following his retreat, my hands latch onto the front of his shirt. “I don’t regret it.” Tugging on the fabric, I compel him to make eye contact with me. “I would never regret you.”
He closes his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he’s fighting some internal battle. Walker’s hands wrap around my wrists and gently push, forcing me to let go.
Opening the door, he gestures to the hallway. “You’re free to go.”
“Walk,” I start, but he’s out the door and gone before I can get the rest of my sentence out.
My fist presses against my chest as the ache becomes overwhelming. I knew he’d do something like this, and I knew it would hurt. I just didn’t think it would hurt so bad.
I can’t fall apart now, especially not here.
Blinking away the tears, I snag my phone from the table and saunter out. In the hallway, I’m blocked by Tessa. She stands there in her full deputy getup and hands me my purse.
“Thanks.” Slinging the strap across my body, I duck my head and step to the side to continue down the hall.
Tessa moves with me, blocking my way. “If it were me, you’d be booked for homicide.”
My forehead pinches. “Good thing it’s not up to you.”
Tessa does a head-to-toe sweep like she’s slowly scanning my appearance and finds me lacking. “You’re lucky you were cleared by a witness.”
My brows shoot upward as an idea comes to mind. “There was a witness?”
“Sheriff Maddox didn’t tell you?” Tessa squints at me.
“Um. No. He didn’t.” I sway back and forth, trying to see past Tessa. “Who’s the witness? Can I talk to them?”
“And risk witness tampering?” Tessa ridicules.
I frown mockingly. “How would I manipulate the witness? They already cleared me. Besides, I could help.”
“Tessa, we need someone to finish logging in the evidence,” Jolene instructs from her desk. “It’s in Walk’s office.”
Tessa spins, still not letting me by. “Where’s Ridge?”
“He’s finishing the canvas,” Jolene informs, then holds up her hand, motioning for Tessa to stand down. “I got Blake. Don’t worry.”
Tessa gives me one last glare from over her shoulder, then stomps off.
With daylight highlighting the space, I finally get a look around the station. It’s not nearly as intimidating as the TV shows make police stations seem.
It’s smaller.
Older.
More human.
Jolene’s desk operates as both reception and dispatch. It’s both chaotic and organized at the same time.
Out here are the same beige walls and gray tile. The most accurate description for them is “government-issued.”
