Page 377 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

LUKE

Aspen was drunk. A cute drunk, but still far from sober. And she was handsy.

Really fucking handsy because she kept putting her hand on my dick while I was driving, her wants made very clear.

It was a good thing I knew how to get to her house, otherwise I’d have driven into a fire hydrant.

Then I’d have had to explain to Mac and his fire truck full of colleagues why I couldn’t focus.

Yeah, that kind of handsy.

I’d deflected her as much as possible with a few, “Easy, tiger.”

“The girls said sex makes everything better,” she said.

Did they?

“I agree, but not in the car.” And not while you’re drunk.

Thankfully, she’d settled like a good girl in the passenger seat until we got back to her house. I’d been half-hard ever since I walked into her class earlier and saw her in those snug-as-fuck purple leggings and matching snug top.

As I went from sun salutations to downward dog during the class, I’d thought about all the ways I was going to take her. From behind. Up against a wall. Hell, over any horizontal surface. The ideas even continued at the pizza place, although the guys had distracted me well enough.

For the first five minutes, they’d asked me about my work.

I was used to being asked everything from whether I wore makeup on set to whether I really was naked in the sex scenes to if I really did operations.

It seemed they didn’t give a shit about any of that.

Thank fuck. It had been the most non-probing interrogation I’d ever had, and after a prostate exam, that was saying something. It went like this:

Theo to Mav and Mac: Luke plays a doctor on TV.

Mav: I’ve seen the show, which means I’d trust you if I was hit by a manhole cover.

That ridiculousness happened in one episode, and I’d saved the patient’s life.

Theo: I’m a real doctor. I could take a manhole cover out of your torso, but you’d still be dead.

Mav to Theo: Your hair wouldn’t look as good as his while doing it and you have the bedside manner of a constipated whale.

This was when I found out they were brothers.

Mac: How’s it feel to be famous?

Me: Annoying.

Theo: That why you’re in Hunter Valley?

Me: You don’t know from social media?

They looked at each other, then back at me.

Mav: Do we look like guys who use social media?

Me after studying the three of them: No, you definitely do not. Then the answer is vacation. I’m here for vacation.

I wasn’t telling them about Lacey and the fact that I was supposedly in rehab.

They didn’t seem to care what I did, but guys didn’t probe.

Theo was a trauma surgeon turned small town doctor, Mac was the town fire chief, and Mav was the CEO of a billion-dollar company.

I got paid to pretend to be something I wasn’t while my hair looked good. In comparison, I was dull as fuck.

All they wanted was to kick back with a beer and eye their women. I couldn’t blame them because it was impossible not to watch Aspen. Not that she was mine.

Yet.

I wanted her. Fiercely.

From the ice cream outing the day before, I knew Sierra and the neighbor boys were off to camp today.

So I held off—barely—until Sierra was gone to see Aspen again.

The way she led her class with calm confidence was impressive.

It had been hard to keep moving instead of staring at her demonstrating the various poses, giving beginner and advanced options for each.

She made them all look effortless, which I knew from years of yoga that they were hard as fuck.

The way she bent and flexed reminded me how flexible she’d been in bed and gave me ideas on how I wanted to fuck her next.

I’d never once done yoga with a hard-on and I sure as hell tried not to have that problem, but Aspen made it really fucking difficult.

Like sitting on the far side of the table and not being able to talk with her.

Instead, I’d been just one of the guys and watched how she smiled genuinely with her friends over too many glasses of wine.

How she laughed and cried with them, probably talking about Sierra.

The girl had been a fucking spitfire the day before on the hike.

Funny, bright, active, and eager to go away to hockey camp.

I abandoned my car on Main Street and drove Aspen’s to her place, parking it where she told me in her driveway.

She climbed out and I followed her to her door.

I let her attempt to key in her door code but asked her what it was and did it for her.

Then she grabbed the front of my shirt, spun me around with a surprising amount of strength for a woman her size, and pressed me into the wall.

The same wall I had her against the day before.

Her mouth was on mine, her hands roaming over me.

My dick was all into this, but nope. Not happening. Taking her wrists, I raised both of them over her head.

She purred. Yeah, actually purred like a fucking tiger and grinned.

“I like it when you take control.”

FUCK!

I groaned and pressed my hard dick into her soft belly, then stepped back. “Tonight, me taking control means we’re getting you some water and aspirin and tucking you in bed.”

“What?”

I released my grip, turned her toward the steps and gave her ass a little slap.

She looked over her shoulder as she made her way up the steps. I eyed her pert ass the entire way.

When we got to the top, she dropped her bag on a small table, and I looked around.

The space wasn’t big. In fact, it was downright tiny.

There was one main room that served as her living room, kitchen, and dining area.

The walls were a soft tan and the furniture eclectic.

Framed photos were all over the place and what was probably Sierra’s artwork hung on the walls and attached to the fridge with magnets.

Through one open door, I could see a bed. Through the other, there was white tile on the floor, which I assumed was the bathroom.

It was homey. Warm. Inviting.

“Let’s get you to bed,” I said, steering her toward the bedroom.

She pointed. “That’s my bed.”

In the corner, there was a divider and behind it, a day bed.

I went to the bedroom door, stuck my head in. Definitely Sierra’s with the hockey posters on the walls and kid’s clothes strewn about.

Her bed was in the main room?

I turned back around and found her heading into the kitchen. “Drink?” she asked, turning to face me.

“You need water, not me,” I told her.

“Doctor’s orders?” she asked with a grin.

“Yes, and some aspirin.”

After all that, she skipped the water completely and flopped down on the couch.

I sighed and went to grab an upside-down glass from the drying rack and filled it from the tap.

“Here,” I offered when I sat down beside her. “Sit up.”

She lifted her head and like a floppy doll, sat up and gulped down the water.

“We should be having sex. I’m supposed to fuck you since Sierra’s away.”

My dick liked everything that she was saying. Too much. But it wasn’t hard to turn her down. I wanted Aspen. Fuck, did I want her. But not like this.

“That sounds good, tiger, and we can definitely do that when you haven’t had five glasses of wine.”

“Six. It’s only because I miss Sierra.” She sat up again and climbed into my lap.

Okay, this was nice. Warm, soft, pliant Aspen. But the scent of wine clung to her, and I had a feeling she was going to pass out at any time.

“What’s up with you and Sierra’s dad?” I asked, setting my hands on her hips–and not moving them. It was a probing question, but I was curious and now was probably the best time to ask probing questions.

She tucked her hair back. “A youthful fling in a Spanish bar bathroom with a guy named Hans. Never saw him again.”

“Sierra really loves hockey,” I commented.

She laughed. “Yeah. She wouldn’t wear pink even if it was hockey gear signed by Dex James himself.”

Sierra did seem like a tomboy. No pink. No sparkles or unicorns or rainbows. From the peek I saw in her bedroom, she liked blue and Dex–

“Wait. Are Theo and Mav his brothers?”

She nodded. “He’s married to Bridget’s sister.”

Wait. Mav was with Bridget. Check.

Bridget was best friends with Mallory who was with Theo. Check.

Bridget’s sister was married to Mav’s and Theo’s brother. Crazy.

“Did Sierra get into hockey because of Dex?” I wondered.

“No, from Jackson and Johnny,” she said.

Turning, she flopped sideways so she sprawled across the couch, lifting her legs and extending them out so her calves rested on my thighs.

“Their parents flood their backyard and make it into a skating rink every winter. First time she saw that, she was hooked.”

“They flood their backyard? That’s pretty awesome.” I’d have loved that as a kid.

“Awesome means it’s bitterly cold here.”

“It’s beautiful now,” I reminded. “Hunter Valley’s amazing. That hike we did yesterday was great.”

She huffed and ran her hands over her head as if she was frustrated. “God, I’ve got to go again tomorrow.”

“Where?”

“Bulldog rock.”

“It’s real?”

She shrugged her slim shoulders. “I think so. I was drunk.”

“Do you get drunk a lot?” Based on what I knew about her, she led a healthy lifestyle and drinking too much wine wasn’t a common occurrence.

She tipped her chin down and eyed me. Those blue eyes were hazy when they met mine. “When a man dumps you, you drink. When your daughter abandons you for her love of shin pads and skates, you drink.”

“What does a bulldog rock have to do with being dumped?”

She shook her head and covered her eyes as if she was hiding.

“I buried a ring.”

I blinked. Frowned. She didn’t move. This was a crazy conversation. I leaned toward her and pulled her hands from her face. This was actually a little amusing.

“You buried a ring?”

She made a sound that I took as a yes.

“When?”

“Two years ago.”

“Tiger, you buried a ring by a bulldog rock that long ago and now you have to… find it?”

With a surprising swiftness, she flung her arms away and I had to sit back to avoid being smacked across the face. “Yes! I have to find it, or I have to give Duncan the value of the ring!”

“Who’s Duncan?”

“An ex-fiancé who wanted my mother more than me.”

Now I really frowned. That was… gross. And creepy. No wonder she got drunk. I wanted to track him down and take him out with a manhole cover. “I can see why you’d want to bury the ring,” I muttered.

“I don’t want to talk about Duncan or my mother. In fact, I don’t want to talk at all. I want to–”

I stalled her hands again, which were now tugging up my shirt. “Bed.”

She grinned. “Yes, please.”

I shook my head. “No, you. Bed. Sleep.”

“But you’re hard.”

Even drunk, she couldn’t miss it in my workout shorts.

I groaned again, scooped her up and stood. I took her to her bed–only a few feet away–and set her on it.

“I am and I am eager for you to do something about it later.”

She popped up onto her knees and unzipped her sweatshirt and flung it off.

I set my hands on my hips as she moved on to her shirt.

“Aspen,” I groaned.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I was going to go to hell, but I had to watch her tug that stretchy, snug top off and fling it to the ground.

Shit, she was bare from the waist up. My dick pulsed and I put my hand over it. Squeezed hard. FUCK.

“Okay, bed,” I snapped.

She curled her finger, beckoning me. She was so fucking pretty with those pert tits and tight nipples. So horny.

So drunk.

“Nope. You. Bed. Alone.” When she tucked her fingers into the top of her leggings and started pushing them down, I turned on my heel. “Fuck, tiger. I’ll get you some more water.”

I grabbed her glass from beside the sofa, filled it at the sink and thank fuck, she was sound asleep when I got back to her.