A laugh breaks free as I ask, “You’re still thinking about that?”
He rocks a little, glancing to where our bodies are connected. “I know what’s in it.”
Staring at him, I freeze. “You do?”
“Yes.”
There’s no way he could have snuck a peek at my place. I hid her folded envelope at the bottom of a box of winter clothes he’d never have access to. The idea of him searching there is ridiculous for so many reasons I don’t have time for right now.
“How? I don’t even know what’s in it!”
Wyatt’s hands slide to hold onto my hips. “You didn’t read it?”
“No!” I relax, realizing I’m being played. “Oh, I get it. You tried to trick me into telling you. If I thought you already knew, then we’d discuss it and you’d find out! You’re such a cop. Don’t use your interrogation tactics on me. Why are you looking at me like that?”
His face is relaxed, and amused. “Because I really do know what’s in the letter, Diana.”
“How?!”
“Grandpa told me.”
I blink in surprise. “That possibility never occurred to me.”
“I can see that,” he smirks.
My heart tightens as I remember what might have been in it. “What did it say?”
Wyatt takes a deep breath, thumbs caressing my hips through my skirt. “Grams took back what she said about me. She gave us her approval.”
Tears jump to my eyes. “She did?”
“She was one of the people who warned you, but you never told me that.”
“I couldn’t!”
“I know,” he whispers, his eyes turning red. “I’m glad you didn’t. I’m also glad Grandpa Michael told me. Makes me feel good that I uh…” He stops, unable to talk.
Falling into a kiss, I tell him without speaking how much I love him, how sorry I am that he’s hurt by people warning me against him. I know without him saying it that he felt they were right, that he deserved it.
He probably did.
We separate, and I sit up on him, searching his face to see what’s going on inside his mind. Wyatt clears his throat, not meeting my eyes for a second. They lock with mine and he asks, “Why didn’t you read it?”
“I decided it didn’t matter what it said. I knew I loved you, no matter what anybody said. Even May.”
Emotions twist his face. He bites his lip and nods, as he grabs the door handle and opens it, motioning for me to step out.
I lift up, smooth my skirt and try unsuccessfully to exit the patrol car gracefully.
Wyatt rises up, plants his boots and joins me on the shady dirt road, clearing his throat again, raking back his hair, zipper open, cock out and growing full. He unlatches his cuffs. “Hands on the hood.”
“What?”
“I said put your hands on the hood, Beautiful.”
My body wakes up with a start, and I slap the hood with both palms. The midnight blue metal is warm. Not from the engine but from the summer heat. Around us, the air is heavy with humidity. Wet from it.
And it’s not the only one.
Wyatt grabs my wrists one at a time, pulling them behind my back to cuff me. They click into place, making me his prisoner. He bends me forward and lifts up my skirt, giving my bare ass a sharp spank. The sting turns me on and I close my eyes.
I feel the bulbous tip of his huge cock slide between my legs, slipping around my pussy-hole, deeper into my folds to stroke my aroused clit a few tormenting times.
I moan, glancing around us, worried someone might come.
Before me.
“You have the right to remain silent, Diana,” he begins as two inches disappear in me. “You have the right to an attorney.”
“I don’t want a fucking lawyer. I want to represent myself.”
Two more inches dive in. “Where were you last night?”
“I was wondering why we weren’t doing this sooner, Officer Cocker.”
He groans, pushing deeper. “Were you touching yourself when you thought of me?”
“Am I under oath? Because if I am, I’ve touched myself every night since we met.”
And that’s it. Wyatt fills me from behind, spreading my asscheeks before he starts to fuck me without reservation. I’m still sopping wet from us both cumming before. It’s even dripping down my thighs. He bends over, spooning my backside, tugging my earlobe with his teeth. I turn my head enough that I can meet his and our tongues lash as he fucks me hard. The air we’re panting smells of jasmine and burning pine needles, and our future.
Some day I will look back on this day and many others and be glad I trusted my own instincts and learned to trust the man who earned it.
EPILOGUE
A YEAR LATER
WYATT
P uffing on a cigar in Grandpa’s side yard, I ask him, my dad, my male cousins and uncles, and my brothers, “Why is this so satisfying?”
Caden smirks, “Men among men.”
Grandpa jogs his cigar with an affirming nod, then glances up to a window on the side of the house. He pauses, eyes flickering with sadness before he returns to tell me, “Time keeps passing. If you don’t stop and appreciate it, you’ll wonder where it went.”
Dad agrees, “Moves too fast and also too slow. Feels like forever ago that we sold the restaurants. Now we’re thinking of buying a bar an old friend offered us — Cathy.”
We all react, except for Grandpa who mutters, “I always thought you retired too early.”
Uncle Jake puffs his cigar and offers, “That’s why Drew and I still run our construction company. What are we going to do with all that free time? How much traveling can you do?”
Uncle Jaxson smirks, “Rachel talks me into flying to different countries sometimes — she’s still writing for travel websites — but even she would tell you that our retreat keeps us happier than finding one somewhere else.”
Grandpa nods, “Home is where the heart finds roots,” and takes a deliberate puff before music turns our heads.
We walk out from our hiding place, one Cocker man after the other,
