Merry Christmas, Baby

Maddie stroked her hair. “Did you poke holes in his condom?”

“What? No, of course not,” Chloe said. “We forgot entirely that one night.”

“So you’re both responsible. Which means you’re not making him be a daddy,” Tara said reasonably. “And besides, have you met your husband? He’s just about the toughest, most impenetrable man I’ve ever met. No one, and I mean no one, especially not a tiny little thing like yourself, makes Sheriff Sawyer Thompson do anything that he doesn’t want to.”

Chloe squeezed her eyes tight. “I want to believe that,” she whispered.

“Then do,” Tara said firmly. “Now have another of my cookies. The baby loves them.”

Chloe snorted and ate another cookie. The baby kicked. “You’re right,” she said to Tara.

“Sugar, I always am,” Tara said.

To occupy herself, Chloe went through the stack of mail at her side. She opened a box delivered to Tara from Victoria’s Secret. A gorgeous, deep bordello red velour robe. “Wish my stalker had sent this,” she said.

The three of them ate and chatted some more until Chloe couldn’t keep her eyes open. Her sisters fussed over her and put her to bed in one of their guest rooms, promising Tara would serve her a luxe breakfast in bed the next morning.

She knew what they were doing; they were giving her comfort in the best and only way they knew how, by bossing her around.

And she was just lonely enough to let them…

The next morning, Chloe climbed into the shower and sighed as the hot water hit her lower back. If Sawyer had been here, he’d have massaged away her aches. They had a lot of shower memories, she and her husband. The first time they’d made love had been in his shower, and it had held special memories for them ever since. And there was the night about eight months ago when she’d gotten caught in a rainstorm and Sawyer had dragged her into the bathroom to warm her up.

One of the best nights of her life…

“Where the hell is your jacket?” he asked as he flicked on the hot water.

“I didn’t want it,” she said, shivering wildly. “Love the rain.”

He just shook his head and stripped off her shirt—one of his, of course. He tossed it to the floor, his hungry gaze raking her in. Then his lips covered hers while his fingers made easy work of her panties. His hands were warm as they touched the bare skin of her ass, sliding down, pulling her tight against him, his body unyielding to hers.

He stared into her eyes, reading her as if she were a book written just for him. She stared back, memorizing each worry line, the way his lips twitched at her scrutiny like he was thinking about smiling. She licked her lips and his eyes darkened, his voice husky as he said her name. “Chloe.”

“I love you,” she whispered, and he went still before cupping her face, letting his thumb glide along her lower lip.

“You don’t say that often,” he said.

“I know.” Regret filled her. “But I feel it every minute of every day,” she told him, a confession, a vow, and had the rare pleasure of rendering him speechless with emotion.

Her past had messed her up pretty good. And only knowing Sawyer’s had been worse had allowed to her open up to him at all.

His body was hard, strong, rippling with power against hers, and when she was in his arms like this, she felt safe. Protected. Like nothing could ever come between them.

The steam from the shower filled the bathroom around them, and it was like fog on a humid night as Sawyer stripped with quick efficiency, revealing his body in all its glory, a sight that even the angels would sigh over.

He caught her staring and smirked.

“Can’t help it,” she said. “I like to look.”

“Good to know,” he said, and nudged her into the shower. His fingertips trailed over her skin, his teeth grazing their way to her earlobe before heading south. Gently he bit her shoulder and then laved it with his mouth until she was pushing against him, already panting for more.

With the water raining over them, she used her mouth as a guide over his body as well, tracing his throat, the hollow at the base there, and then a pec. When she flicked his nipple with her tongue, he groaned. Threading his hands into her hair, he tipped her head to suit him and then his mouth crashed down over hers. His tongue flicked over her bottom lip, demanding entrance, gaining it when she gasped in pleasure.

His hands slid down her back and cupped a cheek in each hand, lifting her off the ground and firmly into him. He was hard and thick against her, ready for action.

She was ready too. To be honest, she was always ready when it came to him. But as usual, Sawyer was on his own timetable, playing by his own rules—and she’d never owned a copy of the rule book.

“Mmm,” he rumbled in her ear, his fingers playing between her legs, making her squirm and rock into him for more. “So wet, babe. You want me.”

Always.

“Tell me,” he murmured, his fingers playing slip and slide with ground zero.

She moaned and then nearly cried when he pressed her firmly into the granite and lifted his head, waiting.

“Yes,” she managed. “I want you. I always want you, always will. Now stop teasing me and do me, damn it.”

His smile was sheer wicked delight to her and hot as hell, making her rake his fingernails down his back, the bastard. “Please,” she said against his mouth. How was it that he could always reduce her to begging?

His lips ravaged hers, his tongue pushing, stroking, reminding her of how he was going to feel once he was inside her. She felt her toes curl and her entire body tightened. She was an inch from orgasm when he replaced his fingers and slid home with one sure push of his hips.