Crime and Periodicals: Green Valley Library Book #2 Page 21

  His tongue moved back up to circle, while he let go of one of my hands to slide a finger inside me. It felt good. It felt great…then he added another and curved them while he softly, ever so gently thrust them in and out.

  I was right there. All I had to do was let go and fall.

  “Wyatt. Oh, God, oh please…”

  He said something, but his mouth was still busy being awesome so I couldn’t really tell what it was.

  I moaned. His hand held me down as I writhed beneath him. Cresting that final peak, I exploded into a million sensations, each more delicious than the last.

  At some point he’d removed his underwear. I hadn’t noticed; I was caught in a hazy pleasure vortex. Love and lust swirled inside me along with amazement and the sense that I finally had a place to belong. I opened my eyes to watch him slide open a drawer on his bedside table and pull out a box of condoms. He dumped the box and grabbed one. He quickly sheathed himself and covered me with his body. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck and held on—I never wanted to let go.

  “Can I?” he asked against my neck, his hot breath tickled my skin.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes.” Holy crap, I felt good. I was sure it would only get better once he made me his.

  He slid himself up and down my center, then slowly pushed into me. He held himself still above me once he was all the way in.

  I let my legs fall from around his waist to lie open. I felt pressure, a little pinch, but no pain. It felt strange at first, but then it felt good—it felt right. It felt beautiful to be connected to Wyatt. Like we were where we were meant to be—with each other, to each other—just like I imagined it would feel.

  He pressed sweet kisses to my lips. “Am I hurting you?” he murmured between them.

  “No, it feels good.”

  He nodded, sweat beading up on his forehead, his eyes blazing into mine. I wanted to feel him against me, skin to skin. I reached for his shoulders to pull him closer, but he held himself back. Was he afraid he would hurt me?

  “You can move, Wyatt,” I whispered. “I’m yours. Please.”

  At that, he rocked into me, rolling his hips to thrust gently at first, then with more intensity as I learned to move with him, to match his movement with my own. He was so beautiful above me—muscular and hard, yet gentle with the care he took with my body.

  I loved how he took care of me. How he made this experience beautiful and right and so special. Tears filled my eyes.

  “Sabrina…” he whispered and captured my mouth with his. He laced our fingers together and held them over my head as his thrusts grew more frantic and I grew restless beneath him. I rocked my hips upward faster to get what I needed as he ground himself against my body to give it to me.

  “Wyatt…”

  His eyes closed as he followed me over, then collapsed on top of me, giving me all his weight for a second before rolling to the side and pulling me to rest against his chest and wrapping his arms around me. I wound my arms around him in return, feeling his smooth skin beneath my palms as I held him close.

  We stayed still there, holding each other. We were different. It felt like we had become something more. Every new experience I had with him felt like a beginning and I wondered if it always would—if every time we took a step forward together it would be as magical and wonderful and amazing as this one. I hope so.

  “Are you okay?” He kissed the top of my head.

  I nodded against him. “I’m perfect. I don’t think I’ve ever been better in my life.” I tipped my head back to look at him.

  “Me too,” he said.

  He smiled down at me, that yummy dimple in full effect. I leaned up and kissed it, and his smile turned into that devilish grin that undid me when he was, you know—grinning down lower.

  “I’m going to get rid of this condom. I’ll be right back.”

  Standing at the edge of the bed with his back to me, I committed the sight of Naked Wyatt to memory. It was that beautiful. I might have drooled a little bit. I let my eyes wander down to my number one favorite Wyatt part—that glorious badonka-booty that I had become hopelessly devoted to while watching his Stop and Go video on repeat like a perv. I got a handful of that booty tonight and the experience immediately went on the highlight reel of the life and times of Sabrina Louise Logan. I watched as he opened a dresser drawer and pulled out some green plaid pajama bottoms. He opened another drawer and tossed me a T-shirt with a grin.

  “Thanks.” I smiled and slipped it over my head, sniffing it as I pulled it over. It was all April Fresh and Wyatt. After my head popped out of the shirt, I turned around to see his heated eyes on me as he stood in the doorway.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  “Okay,” I whispered and watched him walk away with a sigh that could only be described as dreamy.

  I took this chance to look around. I was not above superficial snooping. The bed was big and there was a stack of large pillows in the corner by his dresser. I stood up and grabbed the pillows. I flipped his quilt down and propped the pillows against the dark wood headboard.

  I smiled as he reentered the room and sat next to me in the bed.

  “Come here,” he said.

  He didn’t have to ask me twice. I went. His hands were magic, his mouth was even better, and the rest of his body was a playground I wanted to visit every day—twice on the weekend. But even better than all of that was him. He took care of me; he protected me. I felt cherished and special.

  “I can’t get enough of you,” he said as he pulled me against his chest. I was on my knees between his legs as he reclined against the pillows by the headboard. His wandering hands traveled up the back of my thighs to squeeze my bottom.

  I bent down to kiss him.

  “I love your body,” he murmured. “You’re like an hourglass.” His hands came around from my bottom to caress over my hips, and up under his T-shirt to travel over my waist, my breasts, then back down. Over and over, like I mesmerized him—like he did really love my body.

  “I love your body too,” I whispered. I loved looking at it, but I loved what it could do to mine even more. I let myself collapse against his chest. He wrapped me in his arms and kissed me.

  He slid down until he was on his back and I was stretched out on top of him. “We should wait a few days. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. I didn’t want to stop, but I felt tender. Waiting was probably smart.

  He shifted me to his side. Then he gathered me close like he never wanted to let me go. “Can you stay with me tonight?”

  “I can stay.”

  “I suspect that eventually I’ll want you to stay with me always.”

  My head jerked around so I could see his face. “You say the sweetest things…” I whispered. With every word that came out of his mouth my feelings grew.

  “It’s the truth,” he whispered back then pressed a kiss to my forehead. “This is fast. I know it is. But I can’t help the way I feel about you.”

  I lifted my head from his chest to look at him. “I feel the same way about you. Since we feel the same way—it shouldn’t matter if it’s fast. I mean, are there rules?” God, I hoped there weren’t rules. If there were, I was sure I had broken them all by now. I kept switching from overly candid to quiet, from blushing to bold—back and forth like a wackadoodle pendulum. It was a wonder I was here in Wyatt’s bed right now.

  He laughed. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  I grinned. “Okay. Then we can do what we want.”

  Lifting his head, he kissed me. “I just want you. Every day, all the time. You’re mine now.”

  I ducked my head into his chest overcome with emotion. “Yes. I want to be yours.”

  He kissed the top of my head and flicked the covers over us. “Sleep, darlin’.” I felt him sigh; my head rose and fell with his breath. Replete with pleasure, my heart full of smiles, I fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sabrina
<
br />   After the homecoming game and Michael’s arrest the weeks that followed were spent steadily falling head over heels for Wyatt Monroe. He called me every night before bed, and we texted each other throughout the day whenever we had a chance. We stole time to have lunch together. I brought Harry to his house for dinner a few times and it was sweet how well the kids got along together. He’d been out to the ranch with the girls as well and it seemed as if they liked it. Everybody got along. Everything was perfect.

  Except for at the library. I had overheard Naomi and Mrs. MacIntyre talking about budget cuts and that maybe the library was at risk for closure. I tried to push it out of my mind as I walked up the path to the front door.

  “Hi, Sabrina,” Mrs. MacIntyre called out from behind the counter. She was bustling about, filling up one of those cardboard office boxes with papers and manila folders.

  “Can I help you with anything?” I rushed around the counter to store my purse in her office then logged into the computer to sign in.

  “Thank you, but I’ve got it. I’m out the door. It hasn’t been busy today. In fact, we have no patrons at all right now.” She shouldered her purse, snatched up the box, and rushed to the door. “Bye, dear. Don’t forget to set the alarm when you leave,” she called as she hurried out.

  “I won’t. See you tomorrow.”

  I slid out of my coat and added it to my purse. That was weird; she wasn’t usually in such a hurry. I guess my life was not the only thing changing around here.

  I tidied up the non-existent mess behind the counter which comprised straightening stacks of papers and filing one folder. I pulled out the box of books on hold and spotted the new Stephen King on top. I left a voice mail for Jackson letting him know he could pick it up. I finished leaving messages for the other patrons and then grabbed the broom and the book cart so I could shelve books and sweep along the way.

  There was nobody here. Sometimes afternoons could be slow, but this was nuts. I was in the stacks sweeping dust into the pan when the bell over the door announced someone’s presence.

  I stepped out to see Michael standing in the doorway.

  “Can I help you?” I said out of habit. Then I shook my head to clear it. “Why are you here?”

  “To talk to you. I want the kids back, Sabrina.” He swiped under his nose with a hand as he stood there.

  “Why? You’ve missed their whole lives. You’ve never even met Harry. Why now?” A jolt of fear shot through me, followed by anger, then the realization that Michael stood between me and every available phone in the library—not to mention the exits. Crap.

  “It’s none of your fucking business why. They’re mine and I want them back.” He didn’t look right. His eyes were red and glassy, and his body twitched and shook with manic energy.

  “They’re people. Not your property. Don’t you care what they want?” I tried to reason with him, to stall him, hoping someone would enter the library.

  “You don’t know what you’re messing around with!” he shouted and stepped farther into the library.

  “No!” I yelled back at him. For a moment, brave anger and the desire to protect the kids emboldened my heart. “You don’t know who you are messing with. You know what you are?”

  “Yeah, I’m the asshole in this scenario. Shut your mouth, Sabrina. I don’t want to hear your useless opinions.”

  “No, I won’t shut my mouth. I don’t do that anymore. You’re a disappointment, Michael.” I gasped after the words shot out of my mouth. Then I stood taller. I had kids to protect. I beat back the fear; I couldn’t afford to let it take over right now.

  He froze, and his eyes snapped to mine.

  “Cora loved you. We all loved you. You were part of our family. She gave you chance after chance to be a good husband and father, but you kept blowing it. It’s too late now. Taking the kids won’t do any good. They don’t know you and they don’t want to know you. Cora would be beside herself—she would hate this. You know it and you’re still doing it. Shame on you.”

  He flinched and drew back as if I’d slapped him. He looked stricken for a second, but then that arrogant asshole mask he constantly wore replaced the small glimpse of humanity that had managed to break through for a brief second.

  “Fuck you, Sabrina!” he yelled. Anger radiated out of him as he stood there and glared at me, shaking and swaying where he stood.

  “You need to leave,” I pleaded. “Just go. Leave me alone.” Why was I pleading with this loser? I started to get mad. He had called me the weak link of my family after the homecoming game. Maybe I was a weak link in the past but I wasn’t anymore and he could not use me or intimidate me to get what he wanted.

  This wasn’t like what happened in the Dragon Biker Bar parking lot. I hadn’t sought this out. He was here. He was in my space acting like a big jerk and making threats. Eff this.

  He stalked toward me. I stood firm.

  “Sit down, Michael. Sit in that chair and listen to me, please. We can talk about this.” I pointed to the table and chair next to him.

  I flinched when he picked up the chair and tossed it out of his way to continue stalking toward me. Mrs. MacIntyre was going to be so pissed. You can’t throw chairs in the library.

  “Pick it up and sit down!” I yelled at him. I threw the dustpan I held in my hands at him. No, that was stupid. I picked up a hardback copy of Moby Dick from the cart behind me and threw that. Because Michael was a dick, I was sick of his crap and eff him, dang it.

  He stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

  I hadn’t lost my mind. I’d lost my freaking temper for once in my life.

  I reached behind me to the cart and hurled a copy of Crime and Punishment at him. It hit him in the chest then fell to the floor with a thump.

  He flinched and stumbled back a step with his hands on his throat.

  I grabbed another book and threw it, then another, and another. He backed up after each one. I pulled the cart behind me and continued launching the books at him. He continued flailing backward, stumbling and cursing at me the whole time until he finally turned and bolted toward the door.

  The door which had just opened to let Jackson James inside. He stared at me openmouthed as I continued lobbing books at Michael.

  Michael had turned his head around to look at me as he tried to make it to the door. “I’ll sign your fucking papers, Sabrina. Stop throwing fucking books goddammit.” He reached the lobby area and unfortunately for him, crashed smack dab into Jackson James. Michael bounced off Jackson’s impressive—yeah, I said it—chest and landed on his butt on the floor.

  God bless Stephen King. If it weren’t for his new release and the power of a friendship birthed through a mutual love of horror novels, I may well have run out of books to throw at Michael’s stupid ass.

  Then what would have happened?

  I can’t kick anyone’s ass. I’m an assistant librarian for Filch’s sake, not a ninja.

  “What the hell?” Jackson grabbed Michael, hoisted him up, spun him around, and pushed him up against the front window. “Stay still, dumbass.”

  “Arrest him. He came in here all rude and threatened me again. He threw a chair! That’s against library rules! Arrest him, Jackson.”

  “You’re under arrest, Adams.”

  “She threw the books. Arrest her too!” Michael hollered.

  I stared at Jackson with my eyes bugging out.

  “Yeah, okay.” Jackson turned to wink at me. “We’ll talk about that at the station, Adams.”

  My eyes got bigger and my jaw dropped as Jackson cuffed him and recited that Miranda stuff.

  Jackson used the radio on his shoulder to call Wyatt.

  “He’ll be here in a minute, sweetheart. Don’t you worry.”

  “I’m not worried. Thank you, Jackson. Oh! wait a minute!” I rushed around the counter and grabbed my purse out of the office. I pulled out the adoption papers and ran back to Jackson and Michael. “Here.” I thrust the papers toward Michael.

&nbs
p; He just stared at them. “Fuck you, Sabrina.”

  “You said you’d sign them. And fuck you too, Michael.”

  He looked to the side and huffed out an angry breath. “What happened to you? I thought you’d cave and get all scared like you used to and go running to your daddy, and then I could get the kids.”

  “Ruby said you wanted child support,” I accused.

  His face hardened; he didn’t answer.

  “You’re their father, stupid. My father could have gone after you for child support all these years. Don’t you know that?”

  “He doesn’t know that, Sabrina,” Jackson answered for him. “His brain is fried from all the drugs he takes. Give me the papers. When he sobers up, we can probably have one of the public defenders go over it with him. Shit like this has to be notarized anyway.”

  “Thank you, Jackson.”

  He grinned at me and led Michael outside. I watched through the window as he put him in the back of his patrol car.

  I saw Wyatt park his cruiser and get out. He spoke to Jackson for a minute then came inside. Relief filled my body—along with the shakes. Tears pricked behind my eyes and I didn’t understand it because I’d managed to kick some serious ass just a few minutes ago.

  His eyes swept up and down my body. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “I’m okay.” I lurched toward him and he caught me.

  He swept me up against his chest and wrapped me up in his arms. “I couldn’t get here fast enough,” he whispered.

  “I’m really okay,” I whispered. I pressed myself against him. He was so warm, and I couldn’t stop shaking. Why was I shaking?

  He pulled back slightly and studied my face. “What happened?”

  “Michael showed up. He was acting crazy; he threw a chair, so I threw books at him. He didn’t touch me this time.”

  “Were you alone here?”

  “Yes. Mrs. MacIntyre was supposed to work today. When I got here, she was in a rush to leave.”

  “Call her now. You’re not staying here. We’re leaving. Let me take care of you.” He walked me over to the counter, picked up the phone, and handed it to me.