I'd Rather Not (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 3)

I’d, of course, said yes.

It’d been six weeks since the surgery. Six weeks since I’d first met the man. Yet, it felt like I’d known him forever.

We talked every single day, and we texted even more than teenagers.

That was about to all change, though, since he was going back to work.

I bounced on the heels of my feet as I waited outside my house for him to arrive, and it didn’t take long.

I smiled when he pulled his truck into the driveway and got out.

He grinned when I rushed toward him.

We didn’t hug, but God, did I want to throw my arms around his body and bury my face in that beautifully defined chest.

Opening my door for me, he waited until I was firmly planted inside, with my seatbelt on, before he closed the door and rounded the truck.

When I was clicking myself in, my eyes caught on something in the back seat, and I frowned.

“What’s that?” I asked when I pointed into his back seat.

He grimaced.

“My new uniform,” he grumbled.

That grumble had me turning my head to stare at the man that I’d never seen grumble before.

“Ummm,” I hesitated. “What’s so bad about it?”

He paused. “I’d have to try it on for you for you to see why.”

I opened and closed my mouth, then said, “Well, let’s go try it on. We’re still here.”

He sighed. “It’s bad.”

Let me tell you something, folks. It wasn’t bad.

It was magnificent.

When he came strolling out of my bathroom ten minutes later in his new uniform, my eyeballs nearly rolled into the back of my head in a near instantaneous orgasm.

“Holy shit,” I breathed.

“It looks ridiculous, doesn’t it?” he said as he looked down at his prosthetics in disgust.

I was too busy taking in the way his junk looked in his pants to look any further.

“The uniform comes with shiny black hooker boots, too,” he said as he continued to look at his lower body. “But I’m not sure how those’ll work just yet. I’m probably going to skip wearing those. At least until I can take them to my prosthetist for evaluation like I’ve done all my other shoes.”

There were times that he wore the ones that straight up made him look like an extra from X-Men, the ones with the blades—like the ones he was currently wearing. Then there were other times where he wore the ones that allowed him to wear shoes. And I could definitely tell that he preferred the blades based solely on the fact that he wore them more.

“You have prosthetics that allow you to wear shoes, correct?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes, but when I’m wearing those, I’m not nearly as steady on my feet. Nor can I just get up and go like I can when I’m wearing the blades.”

“Hmmm,” I said as I forced myself to take in the rest of him besides his junk. Which, might I add, still looked so damn good. I really, really wanted to jump him. “I was skimming over Instagram as I was working today. I saw a half-marathon post of a woman who was running. She wasn’t a double amputee, but she did have a blade thing for a foot like you do, but she also put shoes on the blade thing.”

He grinned. “I’ve looked into those but…those are way too much money.”

I’d have to do a little research into what ‘way too much money’ was.

There had to be a grant or something out there that he could look into. And I was fairly certain that the police department could find some way to pay for the boots if Pace couldn’t himself. They might have a lot more leeway in what they were and were not allowed to do when it came to their officers’ uniforms. Accommodations for the officers were necessary. Maybe that included help with prosthetics?

“I can see the wheels of your brain turning from here,” he said as he turned around and began heading back into the bathroom.

I nearly lost my breath at the backside view.

Holy cow.

The uniform on the top fit him like a glove. It skimmed his upper body like it was a second skin. And the broadness of his shoulders spread the fabric of his shirt out so nicely. I could see every muscle, divot, and indentation that there was to see.

And then I followed those muscular shoulders down to his trim waist, then lower to his magnificent ass.

I must’ve made a sound or something because Pace turned and took me in.

He must’ve liked what he saw because he grinned.

“Oakley Spurlock, are you checking out my ass?” he teased, turning slightly in the doorway.

He brought his arm up to rest against the doorframe. The move put the muscles in his arms on display, and I wanted to lick the indentation right below the back of his bicep with my tongue. I wanted to follow his defined muscles and not stop until I reached other, more tastier parts of him.