Crime and Periodicals: Green Valley Library Book #2 Page 20

  We were so close I felt his breath move my hair and his lips against my ear as he murmured, “Do you think football games are boring?”

  Um, that would be no. Not anymore, I didn’t. I’d watch a whole lifetime’s worth of football games for the rest of eternity if I could do it from Wyatt’s lap, holding his hand, and pressed into all that warmth.

  I turned my face to his. “I’m not bored,” I answered. His face was right there, close enough for me to kiss. And I wanted to, so bad.

  He grinned and whispered, “Do you want to get a drink with me? We could go to Genie’s. The girls are spending the night with my parents.” His hand released mine to travel up my spine, before moving my hair aside and resting it on the back of my neck. His other arm remained across my waist, hand on the outside of my thigh, gripping it in his big warm palm.

  I couldn’t think with his hands on me this way. At least I couldn’t think of anything I should be thinking about. Nothing G-rated or appropriate in the presence of the kids or his parents was going through my mind at all right now, yet I still did not want to move.

  “I would love to. My father drove tonight. He’ll take care of Harry.”

  “Good. Let’s go check on Weston and your dad, and then we can get out of here.”

  I nodded. Best idea ever.

  When we made it down to the field, we found out that Weston did indeed have the wind knocked out of him. But it wasn’t until Weston himself reassured us that he had never even been unconscious that my fear went truly away. Harry had run to him with big smiles, and Weston promised him they would build Harry’s new Lego set when they got home.

  With our worries for Weston finally put to rest and the girls and Harry safely off with their grandparents, Wyatt and I said our goodbyes. And I would bet the rest of our night would definitely not be boring.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Wyatt

  I should have realized how bad the traffic would be. Everyone was leaving the parking lot after the game, not trying to get back in like I was. Sabrina had needed to use the restroom before we left and instead of both of us waiting in the long line, she told me to meet her in the parking lot with my truck. When I finally made it back into the lot, it was mostly deserted. It had taken me longer than I expected to get back to her and I was worried she would be waiting for me.

  I pulled closer to the restrooms just in time to see Michael backing Sabrina across the sidewalk. Rage filled me as he grabbed her arms and shook her. I slammed my truck in park and jumped out just as I heard her yell, “Let me go!”

  Never, not once, had I deviated from my law enforcement training. But I found myself wanting to abandon all of it and charge Michael when I saw his hands on her. I did not want to respond as a deputy sheriff. I wanted to react as Sabrina’s man and beat the shit out of him. I sucked in a huge gulp of air then let it out as I charged toward them. Michael let her go and sneered at me. He knew I was a cop. He probably expected warnings, rational behavior, or maybe he thought I would read him his rights instead of shoving him away from Sabrina and into the chain-link fence. He bounced forward and took a swing at me while I reared back to dodge it. But I wasn’t fast enough; he managed to land a light tap on my chin. I shoved him back into the fence again and held him there. I was glad he’d hit me. It would make it worse for him after he was arrested. It was hard to keep my temper under control. I wanted to hit him.

  “Put your hands above your head,” I ground out. I could feel the muscle in my jaw pulsate, I took a deep breath to try and let some of the tension go. My body strung tight with anger. I let him go halfway hoping he’d take another swing.

  Michael glared at me. But he did what I said.

  “Turn around and hold on to the fence,” I ordered.

  He complied and I patted him down.

  “Sabrina, call 911. Tell them who I am. Get in my truck and lock the doors.” I glanced at her; she had wrapped her arms around her middle. Her face was pale, and she trembled as she stood there.

  She nodded and took her phone from her pocket as she headed to my truck.

  “Don’t move. You are under arrest.” I pressed Michael harder into the fence and read him his rights.

  Jackson must have been on another call because a few other deputies arrived moments later to cuff Michael and take him in.

  Sabrina rushed out of my truck and ran to me. “Are you okay?” she cried. “I wish you didn’t have to get involved with this. I’m so sorry, Wyatt. Will you get into trouble for shoving him into the fence? We’re trying to get a restraining order against him, but it hasn’t gone through yet. He kept calling me the weak link of the family. I’m not a weak link, Wyatt, I’m not…” Her voice shook, she reached out with a trembling hand to touch my jaw where that idiot had hit me.

  She was scared, and I was angry. But not at her. Never at her.

  I leaned into her touch. So soft. I wished that I could have done more. I wished I could have pounded that fucker’s face right into the back of his skull for touching her and not lose my job over it.

  “Stop. He barely connected. I’m fine.” I pulled her into my arms. She needed to stop talking so I could calm down. “You’re with me. That means if one of us is going to take a punch, it sure as hell won’t be you.” I pulled back to look at her. “Look at me, Sabrina. I can take it. I get that you can take care of yourself, but there are ways I’m better suited for taking care of you and this is one.”

  “But you shouldn’t have to.”

  I grunted and pulled her closer in response. I couldn’t think of adequate words to make her understand how serious I was.

  “Let’s get out of here.” I caressed the back of her neck and guided her closer to my truck.

  She looked up at me, eyes still filled with fear. “Michael is completely irrational. I can’t let him get anywhere near the kids, Wyatt.”

  “It won’t happen. Even if you didn’t have me, you’ve got your dad. Just look at what he did tonight. We’ve arrested him—again. There is no way a judge would ever grant him custody, or even visitation.”

  “You’re probably right. But it’s still hard not to worry.” She reached out and touched my jaw again. “You’re getting a bruise.” She frowned.

  “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t even hurt. And besides, what high school football game ends without a fight in the parking lot? Your first game is complete; you got the whole experience.”

  “I don’t want to go to Genie’s anymore. Can we go somewhere quiet?” she asked. My attempt at humor had not helped her relax.

  “Sure thing. Let’s go.” I took her hand and led her back to the truck. I helped her inside and shut the door.

  I decided to take her home with me. After tonight’s scare, we both needed reassurance. Maybe it was too soon to take her home but it felt right. I knew she trusted me, but I wanted more. I wanted to make her mine. I wanted to sink so completely inside her that she would never be able to let me go.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sabrina

  Wyatt pulled into his garage. I took a huge breath and tried to relax. I was about to be alone with Wyatt in his house. On the drive here Wyatt held my hand, helping me to shake off most of the panic Michael stirred up. Now I was left with two problems. My squealy girl urges and my ever-present desire to run home and hide. I glanced at Wyatt after he cut the engine. His sweet smile and tender look chased my run and hide compulsion away, and I smiled back. And when he took my hand and kissed my palm, I realized I was where I belonged. Taking a deep breath, I promised myself I would not say ‘yay’. There would be no fist pumping, and I would definitely not do a victory dance.

  He exited the truck and hurried around to open the door for me. He seemed to enjoy being a gentleman—opening doors, holding my hand or elbow, helping me with my coat, getting in Michael’s face to defend my honor, and just generally making me swoon.

  He took my hand and tugged me gently out of the truck and into his arms. I fell forward onto his chest and wr
apped my arms around his neck. My feet had yet to hit the garage floor; he was holding me up with his arms around my hips.

  “Hi,” he said as he let me slide down his body until my shoes touched the floor.

  “Hi,” I breathed as my hands slid down his hard chest.

  “Let’s go inside. We can put on a movie or talk. Or we could sit on the couch and I could just hold you until you feel better.”

  I followed him inside. I didn’t want to talk or watch a movie. I wanted him to hold me. Then kiss me, undress me, and make me his.

  I thought of all the ways he fit into my life and made it better. I wanted to be with him all the time and I never stopped thinking about him when we weren’t. Since the day I met him, everything about Wyatt had drawn me in. His first instinct in any situation was always rooted in kindness. He was understanding and empathetic. He never got frustrated when I got nervous or afraid or lost my words. If there was such a thing as soul mates, then he was mine. I hoped I was his.

  The way he was with Harry at the game tonight had pushed me over the top. I had never been in love before, but I knew how love felt. I figured if you added wanting to have sex with someone to all the regular love feelings, then you would be in love. All these things added together made me realize I was in love with him—it seemed logical.

  But was love logical?

  He tossed our jackets to a chair in the corner. Then he took my hand and tugged me to the couch that sat in front of a window. The curtains shifted, followed by an indignant meow.

  “You have a cat! I didn’t see him last time I was here.” Another soft meow sounded from the window behind the couch, and then his head popped up. He was big and orange; he reminded me of Garfield. He jumped gracelessly onto the couch, then to the floor to flop over onto his side in front of my feet.

  “There he is.” Wyatt chuckled.

  “Hey, kitty.” I knelt and scratched his soft belly and he started purring. I looked up at Wyatt. “He’s cute. Harry loves cats. What’s his name?”

  “Uh, it’s Princess Buttercup,” he answered, eyes darting everywhere else but to me. Was he blushing? Oh my gosh, his cheeks were red.

  A hot dad with a cat named Princess Buttercup—my heart couldn’t take much more. It was only pure luck that allowed me to giggle instead of pass out from the wave of lusty giddiness that smacked me in the face. “You didn’t name him, did you?”

  “Ah, no. Mel named him. It looks like he likes you. Can’t say I blame him.” He held his hand out to help me up. I took it and stood in front of him.

  Princess Buttercup took off toward the hallway. My eyes drifted closed as Wyatt’s face finally lowered to mine and our lips touched. Softly at first, then with more intensity.

  He pulled back, kissing me on the forehead. “Something to drink?” he offered.

  “No, thank you.” I didn’t want him to stop kissing me. I wanted to keep going until I was his and he was mine and we were lost together in what we could be.

  He took my hands and led us to his couch where he pulled me down to sit next to him. “Movie?” he asked. Why did he keep putting on the brakes? Perhaps he thought I was still afraid from the run-in with Michael and didn’t want to take advantage of me.

  “Sure,” I said. I had to tell him I was a virgin. There was a big flashing sign in my brain that said tonight was the night. I was more nervous about telling him I was a virgin than I was about losing my virginity. That was weird, but it also said a lot about Wyatt and how comfortable I felt around him.

  He put his arm around me and pulled me into his side.

  I snuggled closer. This was nice. I stared down his jeans covered legs to his booted feet on the coffee table. My legs, also in jeans, stretched out next to his. He dug the remote out of the cushions but set it aside when I wrapped my arms around his neck.

  He turned and kissed me again. My mouth opened under his to seek his tongue. He obliged and deepened our kiss. We sat there kissing and touching. He held me tight and soon my heart was racing with desire and not whatever residual fear remained from the incident with Michael. Maybe he was right to take this slow.

  “I have to tell you something,” I whispered against his lips.

  “Tell me,” he whispered back between soft kisses.

  “I—um, I’m a virgin, Wyatt.” I sat back and took a deep breath. This was a make or break moment. Nothing was in my brain right now—no thoughts at all. I hovered on a precipice I had never experienced, ever. Like the entire course of my life was about to shift depending on what he said.

  He studied my face. “I kind of thought so,” he finally said.

  “It’s pretty obvious, right?” My cheeks heated and I lowered my eyes to the floor.

  He lifted my face with a fingertip. “I think it’s sweet, and I’m a lucky man. And I want you in my bed, Sabrina. Are you sure you’re ready for this? It doesn’t have to be tonight.” He leaned in to me and touched my lips with his.

  It was the sweetest kiss I would probably ever receive. I felt tears pricking behind my eyes and I blinked as my heart flittered in my chest like the wings of a hummingbird. I moved back to look at his face and nodded. “Yes, I may be a virgin. But I’m also a twenty-seven-year-old woman. I’m pretty sure I’ve been ready since I met you,” I confessed on a whisper as my blush intensified. But unlike my confession before, I didn’t look away from him.

  His lips quirked to the side as his eyes warmed on me. “Then, can I have you?” he murmured.

  I smiled at him. “Yes.”

  He stood up and took my hand. He led me down the hall to his bedroom and tugged me inside, shutting the door behind us.

  He gestured to his bed. “Sit down, darlin’.”

  I sat on the edge of his bed.

  He reached behind his neck and pulled his T-shirt over his head letting it fall to the floor.

  My eyes widened as I took him in. He really was beautiful. His chest was broad, and it tapered down to a majestic set of abs I wanted to taste. I reached for him, but he stepped back.

  “Let me see to you first,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Let me take care of you, it will make it easier.” He knelt in front of me. His big chest spread my legs apart to rest against his body on either side. His hands framed my face and he kissed me—deep and possessive— his tongue in my mouth and lips slanted over mine left no doubt about his intentions. I was his and he was going to take me.

  My hands traced down his back, over warm skin and hard muscle. Then lower until I was at the waistband of his jeans. Then even lower to that booty, I gave it a squeeze and he chuckled against my lips. Wow.

  I gulped as his hands slid behind my knees to pull me closer. He lifted my T-shirt over my head before leaning down to take my nipple into his mouth, through my bra.

  Oh, God…

  I whimpered. I arched my back and he sucked harder, wetting the now stiff peak with his tongue. It felt good, but I wanted the bra off. Like a mind reader, his hands slid behind me to unhook it and toss it aside. He watched my eyes as he licked up my breast with the flat of his tongue and sucked my nipple into his mouth once again. Bare skin, hot mouth…I gasped and arched my back—it was involuntary.

  “Does that feel good?” he murmured against my skin.

  I nodded. It was all I could do.

  I didn’t even need to feel it, just watching him do it was almost enough to blow my head right off the top of my body. Seeing his dark head bent against me, his tongue darting out to taste my skin, that look on his face, the intensity in his eyes…the want, the need…

  He reached down and removed my shoes, then tugged my jeans down my legs, all the while kissing and laving hot, wet attention over my breasts and neck. His hands reached the lacy waistband of my underwear and pulled them down.

  “Lift.”

  I lifted.

  “Lie back, up against the pillows.”

  I scooted back until my head was on his pillow. I watched him toss my undies aside as he removed
his pants and kicked them off, leaving him in black boxer briefs—boxer briefs that did nothing to hide the huge erection he was sporting.

  I barely had time to think or ponder or freak out before he put a knee to the bed, dipped his head, and crawled up my body to put his mouth on me.

  Right there.

  “Oh my God, Wyatt.” My knees fell to the sides as I arched my body toward his mouth. His magical, beautiful, so, so capable mouth.

  “Ohmygod,” I repeated. Because. Oh. My. God.

  Seriously. OH MY GOD.

  “Ooooohhhhh,” I moaned and arched higher. I felt tempted to grab his head and hold it there because I might die if he stopped. Would that be rude?

  He chuckled against my sensitized skin but didn’t take his mouth away. Chuckling made his lips twitch, and that made it even better.

  “Please, Wyatt,” I groaned. He reached around and held my hands, interlacing our fingers. Then he tugged them down my body to press my hips against the mattress and hold me still.

  Suddenly, I wanted him to move away, to stop, it was too much.

  It was almost scary how too much it was.

  I had never been able to make myself feel like this, not even with the shower head. And I had a freaking great shower head.

  “Stop,” I said. He immediately stopped. “Wait, no, don’t stop.” I changed my mind. Stopping was terrible.

  He lifted his head. The sight of Wyatt looking up at me from between my legs would be embedded on my brain for the rest of my life. “You sure? We can stop,” he said.

  I shook my head. “I’m sure. Please don’t stop.” I watched him lick his lips, then a slow, wicked grin crossed his face before he swirled his tongue around, right at the top, then down my slick skin to enter me with it.

  “Guhrggh,” I said. Don’t worry, I knew what it meant. It meant, holy forking shirt this is amazing and must happen at least once a day, every day for the rest of my life, or I might die from withdrawals.