Snowed Under (Roadside Attractions Book 7) Page 4

  “What are you saying, Wyatt?”

  “How about we eat something first? I could hear your stomach rumbling before I walked in the door.”

  I’m a little miffed that there’s a table between us as we eat, as irrational as that feeling is. Wyatt lays out the chicken sandwiches and fries, and I don’t speak again until the worst of my hunger pangs abate.

  I watch with a grin on my face as he floods his fries with ketchup and his sandwich with honey mustard.

  The sandwich might be the best fried chicken I’ve ever tasted, and I tell him so. “And I appreciate that she knows how to do steak fries. I can’t stand McDonald’s fries. I need ‘em chewy, and I need the skin on.”

  “I never knew you were a connoisseur of fries.”

  “When you work as much as I do, you become a connoisseur of fast food. Much to my doctor’s chagrin.”

  His expression turns to one of concern. “You look healthy to me.”

  I lift one shoulder. “I’m not in a danger zone or anything, but I could do better at lowering my bad cholesterol.”

  He snorts. “Welcome to your 40s.”

  “That’s the truth,” I reply with a smirk, licking the salt and oil off my fingers. “God, why do things that are bad for us have to taste so good?”

  That gets a strange reaction from Wyatt that I’m not expecting. A flush comes over his face, and he looks like he has something important to say.

  “I have something to tell you.”

  I dab the paper napkin to my face. “Why does that worry me?”

  He bites his lip. “I kinda…took today as a sign. You came back into my life for a reason. I truly believe that. I purposely stalled so you would be forced to stay because of the storm. Because I want more than one night. I wanted the time to convince you to stick around. Like, forever.”

  My stomach is doing backflips of joy. That’s what I want, too. I want to jump on board with this plan, but there’s too much to discuss.

  “How are we going to work out the fact that I work in Florida and you live here in Fate?”

  He looks thoughtful for a few seconds and gives me a crooked, melancholy grin. “We’ll figure it out. Fate finds a way.”

  I shake my head. “So corny. Also, you’re a dreamer.”

  “I have a lot of dreams. A lot of them about you.”

  The stirring in my sex does not want me to mention the other critical matter.

  “You might not want me as your dream girl for life anymore after I tell you this other thing. I…I can’t give you children. And it’s not because there’s anything wrong with my parts. I don’t want any more. Many people don’t like to hear that, but I raised my sister’s daughter since she was a baby. I would not take that away for any money in the world, but I don’t want to raise another one.”

  I wait for the ax to fall, but it never does.

  He shrugs like everything is so simple. “I want what you want. I don’t see any of that as a sacrifice if I’m loved, and you let me love you.”

  There’s the L word. It’s so fast…except maybe it’s not. Perhaps it’s been fifteen years coming.

  I have to make sure he’s sure. “You’re going to pin your future on me?”

  I’m in awe of how easily these declarations come from him. It’s as if he’s thought about them. “My future is you. I want to be the one to make you tea every morning. I want to make sure you’re not alone after Sidney moves out. I want to keep you warm and give you a soft place to land when work is too much. I want to be there for all of it.”

  I place my hands in my lap and weave my fingers together. This is intense, even though it all seems easy and clear to Wyatt. “About work. There are things that I am not allowed to tell a romantic partner,” I remind him.

  He smirks. “Seems to me we’re pretty good at the nonverbal stuff.”

  Those eyes contain no mischief at the moment. No flirting. He’s speaking from his heart, and I’m starting to be all right with the universe handing me what I want on a silver platter.

  The wind picks up and rattles the kitchen window. Through it, I feel a draft that has me shuddering.

  I reach into my pocket to check the forecast on my phone and see a new text from my anonymous creep.

  Enjoy your snow, Agent Brody.

  I fail to mask the reaction all over my face.

  “Lucy, you just turned white as a sheet. What’s wrong? Is it Sidney?”

  I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”

  But my trained smile doesn’t hold up against the sheriff’s sixth senses.

  “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

  “It’s just this guy; he’s like my one-person fan club.”

  “Gimme your phone. Now.”

  When I hand over my phone, Wyatt looks at the screen, concern written all over his face. I watch those eyes change from curious to apprehensive as he scrolls through the messages from the number.

  “Lucy, who is this?”

  I shake my head. “Some jerk on the dark web, following my cases.”

  “Have you reported this to your superior?”

  “Of course. It happens sometimes. Sooner or later, the cybercrimes division figures out the IP address and tracks them down. It’s what we do, but it’s an extra pain in the ass. People like to fuck with the feds.”

  I try to act casual. I really try. I don’t want anything to ruin this night.

  Wyatt is hot about it. His chair scrapes against the tile floor roughly. He stalks the kitchen and rubs the heel of his palm over his sternum.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “No. No, I’m not okay. Nobody fucks with you, do you understand me? You’re mine.”

  Stammering, I reply that I understand, but sometimes this is part of the job.

  “No, I want know who he is, and I want to have a chat. What’s your passcode?”

  Right now, all I want is for Wyatt to simmer down. But then again, maybe not? I’m rather enjoying watching him get worked up and possessive.

  I could get into a lot of trouble for telling him my passcode and letting him interfere with someone harassing a federal agent, but then again, it is my personal phone. And, did I mention I’m enjoying this?

  Wyatt types a response: This is her boyfriend. Bother her again, and they’ll never find your body.

  I can’t stand to watch for the creep’s reply, so I begin to clear the table.

  The reply doesn’t come, though. And, I never finish this chore. Wyatt’s hand grips my wrist as I reach for a plate. He pulls me against him. His chest radiates heat. The man is seething. “Anybody trying to scare my baby girl is going to get their ass handed to them,” he swears.

  His nostrils flare. His eyes are wild. Wyatt has gone from a country boy next door to a thug in three seconds. My nipples harden at the friction against his chest, and moisture pools in my sex.

  This is enjoyable in a most inappropriate way. So much so that I make a game out of it, even though I shouldn’t.

  Looking up at him with a wry smile, I tell him to calm down. “I mean. What are you going to do? You don’t own me.” I bat my eyelashes for good measure.

  A low growl sounds in his chest. “Nobody fucking touches you. Nobody but me, darlin’.”

  Flames of lust lick through my body as this man’s kiss shows me how wrong I am. I can say he doesn’t own me, but that kiss. Those lips. He had me from day one.

  Chapter Eight

  Wyatt

  I can’t explain what’s come over me. Blue balls, probably.

  Plus the fact that I’ve fallen harder-than-an-anvil-to-the-head in love with Lucy Brody.

  This kiss is both too much and not enough. We need to breathe, but I don’t want to stop until she understands. She’s mine.

  Rough, bear-like grunts and caveman noises are not like me, but this is what this situation does to me.

  Lucy’s soft moans are so hot against my lips I could come right now in my drawers like a teenager.

  “You’re mine,” I grit out, pressing my cheek against hers, hoping by force of will that every inch of her will somehow imprint on my skin.

  She has to be mine. Lucy has just seen me at my most foolish, falling flat on my ass and steamrolled by a giant ball of yarn. And still, she made herself at home in my bed.

  And now that I know some stranger is messing with her … I’ve lost my damn mind.

  She pulls away slightly, panting.

  “Are you all right with this? If you want me to stop, say so now. Because, Lucy, I’m so worked up I’m either gonna smash a window with my fist, or I’m gonna nail you through the fucking mattress.”

  Her swollen lips part, and she sucks in a breath. “Take me to bed and prove it, bragger.”

  With no other words but an unearthly groan from me, I toss this lady over my shoulder, stalk to the bedroom, and kick the door shut behind me, just in case. A sheriff’s home is never truly off-limits from the public, and you never know who might show up.

  I set her down on the bed and gaze down at her, my pulse racing. Through gritted teeth, I give instructions. “Take those damn things off,” I say, pointing to her sweatpants.

  I wait impatiently for her to shuck off her jogging pants, relieved to see that the shaping garment is nowhere in sight.

  My cock throbbing as hard as my pulse, I unhook my belt, unzip and pull it out. Relief washes over me briefly.

  Lucy’s eyes dart downward, watching my length spring free. The ache increases under her gaze. With my eyes fixed on her, I let her watch me fist it and give it one hard pull. Fuck, I need her now.

  Lucy gasps when I lean over to take her thighs in each hand and drag her ass to the edge of the bed. Kneeling on the floor in front of her, I knock open her thighs with my torso, giving myself the most beaut
iful view I’ve ever laid eyes on. Lucy’s pussy, is so wet and ready, yet I have to hang on.

  “I’m gonna try to take time to stretch you, but I might not last, sweetheart.”

  “Please. Get it in, Wyatt.”

  Well, fuck me, then.

  Pushing, stretching her slowly but firmly, my angel whimpers as I fill her.

  Seeing the question in my expression, she nods and whispers, “Good. Oh god. Keep going. Harder.”

  I pull back and thrust in. “My baby girl likes to get fucked?”

  “Only by you.”

  This declaration squeezes my heart and pushes me closer to my release.

  I’m all the way in, and I’m so close. “There you are. Can you feel that? Do you know how fucking tight you are? Squeeze me. Squeeze me as hard as you can and let me feel all of you.”

  My Lucy is such a good girl for doing what she’s told. With another hard thrust, the headboard smacks into the plaster wall. Her sex clamps down hard. I know she can feel every ridge of my thick cock. I bury myself inside her, so damn deep.

  Pulling out and quickly slamming back in, I don’t want to escape from her heat. And I want her to know she’s mine.

  I have one greedy hand shoved up inside of her long-sleeve tee, cupping her soft tit; the other hand works over her taut clit. My thumb traces circles around it as I push in again and again.

  I slide out and back in with a firmness, my jealousy and anger not letting up one bit. Lucy moans, her hands scrambling for purchase on the bed with every slapping thrust. With her hair mussed and fanned out over my mattress, her cheeks pink, her eyes half-closed, her lips parted in a beaming smile, I could burst at any second.

  “You like that? My baby girl likes it when I cram it in?”

  All she can do is whimper my name and shout to her deity.

  “Who’s your daddy? Who’s in charge here?”

  “You, Wyatt,” she murmurs.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sheriff. You, Sheriff.”

  I feel her squirt when her orgasm rocks through her body. The tension around my cock is unreal; her spasms are so tight.

  “Fuck!” I shout, my body hurtling toward release, sweat dripping down my body.

  My hand under her shirt strums her hard nipple as she comes, drawing out every ounce of pleasure I possibly can.

  She’s still pulsing around me, sucking me in deeper and more insistently. All it takes is one more thrust, and my body lets go, marking her with my cum, filling her with everything I have.

  “Mine. Fucking mine. I’m a selfish son of a bitch, and you’re mine now, baby girl.”

  Her eye glassy, Lucy rolls her head to the side. She looks so sexy, half-naked, messy, and spent.

  I can hardly wait to do it again, but slower and fewer clothes on.

  My cock twitches inside her, and I’m not surprised at all.

  Lucy feels it too. “Wyatt?”

  Slick with my cum and her juice, I should pull out. Clean her up. But I don’t.

  We’re doing it again, right the fuck now.

  Chapter Nine

  Lucy

  What we’ve just done is not enough for either of us.

  The feverish fucking—borne of his wild protectiveness and triggered by a mysterious creep’s obsession with me—leaves us both wanting something more.

  Something slower.

  Wyatt rasps, “Baby, that was incredible,” as he dapples small, sexy kisses down my neck, across my chest. But I hear the need. And I feel his cock harden again as it nests inside me.

  What he does next sends my whole body trembling. Wyatt makes sure I feel every ridge as he slowly pulls out. The heat of that moment is followed by emptiness. My body feels his absence. My cunt wants to keep him there, to keep me warm and filled. I try not to complain, but a soft cry escapes me.

  Sitting up, I watch his every movement; that thick cock is indeed hard again. Or, still. I felt it, and now I’m seeing it. Deep pink, slick with my juice and his cum, throbbing as it rests against his abdomen.

  Wyatt hovers over me on the bed and slowly removes what remains of my clothes. Lifting my arms above my head, he slips off my long sleeve and tosses it to the floor.

  “Let me look at you,” he drawls, rubbing his hands down my ribcage.

  He must know what those calloused fingers do to me. The rough against my smooth. The hard against my soft. Those eyes locked on mine, full of mischief.

  “Take that off. Slowly.”

  Wyatt can only be referring to my bra because it’s all I have left on at the moment. He leans away to let me sit up and reach back and unhook it. He’s still kneeling on the floor next to the bed, between my legs. And, he’s still got most of his clothes on. The disparity between our two levels of undress might seem unfair but noticing this only sparks my arousal again just as I’m coming up out of the fog of my most recent climax. It’s rather exposed, him parked between my knees, his eyes raking over my swollen, spent pussy. I feel his cum draining out, and I know he sees it.

  Exposed though I may be, I feel wholly concealed. Covered and protected.

  After protecting the public every day, is this what it feels like to have a life partner to come home to? I can’t let my brain go there. Just enjoy this. You deserve this.

  I watch Wyatt’s reverent expression as I remove my bra and toss it aside. Although we’ve already fucked, this feels so much more intimate. Him seeing my breasts for the first time makes me feel shy, sort of.

  “Look at you,” he murmurs. His words and his still-swelling cock are stirring me up some more. “I hoped. I prayed one day I’d have you back in my bed, and now it’s happening. It’s all happening.”

  I reach out to him. “I want to feel you, Wyatt. Take your clothes off, please?”

  He chuckles. “First, let me see you touch yourself.”

  My pussy wakes up at his words. I gasp as he picks me up and sets me down again, this time adjusting me so that I’m leaning back against the pillows at the headboard. “There,” he says, standing next to the bed, towering over me. “Now spread your lips for me.”

  I reach down and part my folds for him with two fingers, my feet planted wide enough to take him as soon as he’s ready.

  Wyatt rewards me by tugging off his shirt, exposing a hard chest with a smattering of black and silver hair. I want to run my fingers through it all.

  His eyes dart down to my pussy. “Are you dripping for me again, Lucy?”

  All I can respond with is a whimper. “Yes, Sheriff.”

  “Rub your clit for me, girl.” I do, breathing deeply to control my spiking arousal. I don’t know what he’s planning, but I don’t want to come again too soon.

  My reward is Wyatt kicking off his jeans and underthings, finally exposing his fully naked, rigid body. It’s still as long and lean as I remember. My god, a man has to work extra hard to maintain abs like that well into his 40s.

  While I continue strumming my clit, Wyatt crawls up the bed, his wet, hard cock swinging to and fro as he moves.

  “Get those fingers nice and wet, then give ‘em to me.”

  Oh, my.

  I reach out my hand, and Wyatt takes my fingers into his mouth, licking, sucking, and biting. Savoring.

  “So sweet.” His voice has dropped so low I barely recognize him, his facial expression predatory.

  “Hands on the headboard, angel.”

  What follows is a front-row seat to a picture so erotic that I lose count of how many times he makes me cum.

  Looking down between my legs, it’s all I can do to keep from petting his salt and pepper hair as he begins by kissing up the insides of my thighs. His sweet kisses already have me trembling, and by the time his lips reach the juncture of my thighs, I want to force him to take me harder.

  He’s teasing, playing, driving me mad with soft kisses everywhere until he’s ready. And when he’s ready for more, he takes my clit in his mouth, and with his hand, he thumbs one of my nipples.

  The joint sensations push me over the edge, and I come hard. “Wyatt! Oh, god!”

  But he’s not finished. The teasing and playing give way to deep, devouring. His warm tongue snakes into my cunt. The sight of his head rooting up around, that tongue lapping up all of me, the wet noises, the growling, and the feelings — so many emotions — snaps me in half with another rocking orgasm.