Snowbound with the Sheriff

by Laurel Greer

  * * *

  Ryan’s tears threw Stella for a loop. She’d expected stoicism, or anger. But not the repressed guilt and frustration that was coming off him in waves. She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to minimize the comfort of being in his arms. Part of her clamored to explore the questions marking his expression.

  Marking her soul.

  But she’d been ignoring the emotional-support vacuum inside her for her entire freaking life. Seemed pointless paying attention to it now. Or expecting that he could somehow fill that void.

  He can’t. But he can make you feel good. Instead of believing a fix existed for the unfixable, she’d focus on hands and lips, muscles and skin. All the parts of him that could distract in the most delicious way.

  Kneeling between his legs, facing him, she cupped both sides of his face and kissed him.

  He leaned in, taking long, drugging sips. His hands slowly played her sides like a piano, thumbs brushing up her ribs, almost reaching the tender skin of her breasts. She hadn’t bothered with a bra or underwear after she cleaned up, and desire pooled in her belly at the secret knowledge.

  Pulling his lips from hers, he stilled his exploration of her torso. “I thought the tree falling killed any chance of this.”

  “But then you got all emotional, and apparently a softhearted sheriff is my candy.” No, that’s what you need to avoid. “Physically, that is,” she corrected.

  Sadness flickered briefly in his eyes. “Right.”

  “I don’t even know where I’ll be in a couple of weeks, Ry, let alone be able to make a long-term commitment like the one you need.”

  “Of course.”

  She reached for the buttons on his shirt, making quick work of the placket. Miles of hard, hair-dusted pectorals were on display, just waiting to be licked.

  “Short-term, though? One night?” she asked.

  “Hard to argue with one night.”

  She leaned in, mouthing a trail along his neck. “We’ve both been trying to argue against this.”

  “For good reason. But as long as it ends when we leave here tomorrow, I don’t feel like arguing anymore.”

  “Good.” Need swirled low, settling between her legs. She wanted to erase the space between them. Steal a few sweet moments of being close to him again. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders and arms and then pressed a fingertip to the center of his chest. “Let’s see what we’ve learned since we last did this.”

  “I have been innocent, doll,” he teased.

  “Liar. And there you go again with that corny nickname.”

  His smile faltered. “Crap, sorry. Not sure why that keeps slipping out. Gross man habit?”

  “Must be. And I shouldn’t like it, but I do. I’m reclaiming it.” She ringed her fingers loosely around his wrists. The hair crinkled, rough against her palms. “And I’m claiming you. Lie back.”

  Grabbing his shirt and jamming it under his head, he gave her a slow and sexy smile. She crawled forward, straddling his hips. Soft over hard. Her pajama pants and his sweats left nothing to the imagination, and yet was still way, way too much of a barrier. Bracing her hands on his chest, she rocked from side to side, relishing how quickly his body made it clear he was okay with her taking charge.

  Pupils flaring, he caught her by the chin with the V of his thumb and forefinger. “Damn, you’re beautiful. I missed this view.”

  Warmth bloomed in her limbs, affection more than arousal. Argh. It was supposed to be the other way around. Tonight was for bodies, pleasure—not feelings. She leaned down and kissed him before he could say anything else that tugged at her heartstrings.

  She might have been on top, but he still managed to lead. A heartbeat, a breath, and he was kissing her like he’d been stuck on a desert island for years. His hands roamed on her hips, then under her T-shirt and sweater. One roughened palm cupped a tender breast, rasped across her nipple. She arched into him, rolling her hips. Heat pulsed, a wave along her flesh. She moaned her approval.

  “Stella...” He was riding the line between warning her and being playful. “Where’s your bra, doll?”

  “Not on me.” She took his hand and slid it down her belly. Her sex pulsed, wanting more than the friction of their pants over his erection. “Look harder. See what else you find.”

  She planted her hands on either side of his head and nibbled his neck. Maybe that angle would be easier to—

  His hand slid into her pants, stealing her focus. He cupped her, tracing the seam of her opening with the tip of his middle finger.

  A whimper filled the cabin. Hers. But, wow, that was definitely—

  He reached for her cheek and brought her face in front of his, kissing her, watching her with a sly, secretive smile.

  And still he traced a teasing line, not going farther than her outer sex.

  She squirmed against his hand. “Do you think I left off my panties because I wanted to go slow, Sheriff?”

  “I think you wanted to tease me. And it’s only fair to return the favor.”

  The floor dug into her knees and she shifted, closing her eyes, trying to get him to go deeper. “More. Please.”

  One fingertip delved oh-so-close to heaven. “Look at me, Stella. I want to see what you look like now when you let go.”

  “I’m close.”

  He flicked, and she melted a little more. He tsked. “You’re in a hurry, and that’s a damn shame. If we only get to do this once, we’re going to do it right.”

  She gyrated her hips, pinning his hand between their bodies. “We said one night, not once. Unless you can only—”

  “Try again.” His next flick bordered on a reprimand, tightening the knot of desperation at her core. “Let’s define one night as all night.”

  “Oooh-kay,” she replied.

  He slid a finger into her passage, plying her flesh until she couldn’t hold herself up anymore.

  “We didn’t figure this one out in high school,” he said, his own need evident in the hitching cadence of his words.

  “Shh. Too much talking.” She’d wanted him so much back then. And now...he was right, this was more. Better. How would she come back from this being better? But nothing in the world would stop her from chasing what he promised with his fingers.

  He stilled his sensuous strokes.

  “What?” she gasped, bucking her hips in a command to continue.

  Laying another scorching hot kiss on her, he withdrew his hand. When she protested, he hushed her. “We had enough messing around on the floor as kids. This time, we’re finishing in the bedroom.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The mattress in the utilitarian bedroom was nothing to write home about. But having Stella naked and sprawled on the sheet, her fingers gripping his hair while he coaxed her toward oblivion with his mouth, was all that mattered. He had one night to enjoy her, and he wasn’t going to waste a single minute. So long as she found her satisfaction, his was guaranteed.

  His palms caressed her ass. He kissed her center, smiling to himself as she whimpered and fisted his hair tighter. He could do this every day for the rest of his life and be—

  No. It could only be about the here and now. He’d keep it about her pleasure, no matter how much a big part of him wanted to run with the fantasy of having more than the moment.

  Flicking her tight bud with his tongue, he curled a finger inside her wetness and pressed the spot he knew would make her squirm.

  “Ryan.”

  Another flick. “Let go, doll.”

  Her hips lifted. “I know, but I can’t—”

  “Sure, you can.” He licked, loving the salt and earth of her. “Trust me. I can get you there.”

  A suck, a nibble, a blessed moment of feeling her crest, and she dissolved in his hands.

  He lifted his head and reveled in the proof that she’d relaxed
enough to reach the pinnacle. Her flushed cheeks. Her satisfied smile. The arm drawn across her eyes, hand hanging limp, palm up on the pillow. He kissed her center one last time and rose on his knees. He was as hard as the tree that crashed through their snowmobiles.

  Patience. Savor it.

  Taking his length in hand, he stroked.

  “Don’t you dare. That’s my job,” she ordered, rising on her elbows.

  “Oh, you think so?” he teased.

  “You showed me your new tricks. It’s just fair I show you mine.”

  He crawled up the bed, gave his mouth a quick wipe with the back of his hand and kissed the corner of her lips. “I don’t need tricks, Stella.”

  Delving her fingers behind his ear, she tilted her face to take his mouth with hers. “What do you need?”

  He reached to the single nightstand, fumbling for the condom he’d grabbed from his bag on their hurried stumble to the bedroom. “Just you.”

  A careful hand, a determined look, and she rolled the protection on him.

  “Well, you have me.” She smiled, anticipation edged with yearning. “For a few hours, anyway.”

  The truth of that dimmed the hope swelling in his chest. Could sleeping together, even without promises of commitment, show her how good they could be? Because as much as he knew they had no future, he wanted her to see that. To see that he could be the kind of man who would treat her the way she deserved to be treated.

  “I want to see you come again,” he murmured.

  Smirking, she slid a hand over his erection and guided him toward her. “Confident.”

  “Damn straight.” He thrust home, earning a gasp. Being inside her heat...oh, man—perfection. And her muscles, hugging his length, drawing him close to his own release—

  Hold it together. You have promises to keep.

  Gritting his teeth, he sank into her, setting a rhythm that matched her ragged breaths. Pressure built low, pulling at him to bury his face in the pillow and himself fully in her. He resisted, coaxing out every last moan and gasp that he could before she bit her lip and dug her nails into his back. Her cry, the rhythmic pulse of her pleasure, the two of them being joined together—he gave in to the call to topple off the cliff.

  Sparks and flames streaked through his body, burning away his doubts. Overcome with the goodness of having her soft curves under him, of finding the peak together, he struggled to stay on his forearms.

  She kissed him softly. “You’re shaking.”

  “I know. It was that good.” And given it was their only chance, they’d have to aim for even better as soon as he could collect himself.

  “Making the best out of what we’ve got,” she whispered.

  He breathed deeply, putting to memory the smell of her mixed with the scent of sex. It lined up, threads of the familiar twining with strands of the new. His gut clenched at the limitations, at how much he could see them creating more memories, if only their life paths could be woven like their pasts. But they weren’t. Tomorrow, this would be over. He’d stick to his promise. And he’d have to be okay with that, even if his heart was clamoring for forever.

  * * *

  Stella woke up, finally warm. She didn’t need a blazing fire when she had Ryan to snuggle into. And they had, all night. He’d been lying there on his back, a solid wall of man, and she’d nuzzled against his side as if she was another half of a sleepy mold.

  And his chest was right there... She pressed her lips to his bare skin. A little good-morning nibble. He was still sleeping, probably wouldn’t even notice.

  “I don’t think it’s still nighttime, doll.”

  “Oh, what, you’re going to quote some Romeo and Juliet at me, now? Nightingale, lark, blah blah blah?”

  He chuckled, and the low sound hummed against her lips as she dropped tiny kisses across his chest.

  “I’m going to quote you—‘one night.’”

  She froze. Frick, he was right. If she started making exceptions now, she’d keep doing it. And neither of them needed that. They’d had their fun, and it was over, and they’d keep moving forward. Separately.

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. His stubble promised that three more days of not shaving and hiding in the cabin would make him irresistible.

  Three more days and you’d run out of condoms and would probably end up pregnant again.

  She growled at her base instincts. Yeah, all that rugged masculinity did intoxicating things to her insides, but part of being a freaking adult was suppressing any craving that took her focus off what mattered.

  Or maybe my perspective on what matters needs some serious adjusting.

  His arms banded around her, the strength so damn obvious in his taut muscles. She sighed, burrowing into the warmth.

  Which could be treacherous to her state of mind. Because comfort meant finding a safe space in each other. Those spaces where, once upon a teenage dream, love had dwelled.

  It’s okay. It doesn’t feel the same. She didn’t have that manic craving that she’d had when she was younger. It wasn’t desperate, frantic.

  He was too solid for that. Too steady. Last night, those hands had fulfilled every promise he’d made. A confidence of knowing himself and knowing what he could do.

  She’d had that once, before her work disaster. But it was gone.

  Maybe you could get it back through him.

  She recoiled, scrambling out of the covers. The cold of the room shocked like a bucket of ice water, and she grasped for the spare blanket dangling off the end of the bed.

  Getting back her confidence through someone else? Hell, no. This was why she didn’t do connection.

  Sleepy confusion tilted his mouth. “What?”

  “I don’t need a relationship to find myself.”

  His twisted expression deepened. “When did I say you did?”

  “You didn’t.” But I needed the reminder to figure out my crap without dragging someone else into it.

  “Good—I’d never want you to think I thought that way. Why do you think we fell apart before? Youth, sure. But we were also using each other to hide from our problems. It took seeing how much damage that urge in me could do for me to realize I had to walk away.” Closing his eyes, he shook his head. His hair rumpled on the pillow, and she held herself back from reaching over and fixing it.

  “Are you actually upset about a baby that never was?” she whispered.

  He opened his eyes, and regret deepened his irises to a stormy blue, piercing her to her core. “No. I mean... There are a whole pile of what-ifs we could entertain, but more relevant? I abandoned you. I’ve been there, abandoned by a loved one. And I did it to someone else. And, sure, I was young. But the impact hasn’t faded, not enough. And I don’t know how to fix it, Stella. I don’t know how to repair what I did.”

  You can’t. Because the problem isn’t you anymore. It’s me.

  Tightening the thick wool blanket around her body, she hitched a hip on the edge of the mattress. A troubled thought crossed her mind. “Is that what last night was? Restitution?”

  His silence jarred her.

  “Ryan? Were you trying to make up for the past?”

  “No,” he finally answered. He pulled an arm out from under the covers and propped his head on his hand, making his biceps flex. “I want to show you who I am now. A pride thing, I guess. But I can’t even begin to make up for walking out on you.”

  His honesty wrapped tightly around her chest, and she struggled for a full breath. This was exactly the way for him to fix his mistakes—just acknowledge how the situation had been bigger than he’d realized at the time. And that he regretted it, would have handled it differently had he known.

  An unsettled feeling swirled in her stomach. Was it that simple?

  No, not simple. Recognizing and admitting flaws were both big freaking things. And if
she didn’t guard against it, accepting his regrets would push her far too close to realizing how much she wanted to accept more about him. She could look at his face for days, obviously. But less obvious—she wanted mornings like these, just the two of them. To walk down the street with him, holding his hand. See him in the heart of the community he loved.

  And given that he hadn’t always loved it, could she find that kind of love here, too? In Sutter Creek?

  With him?

  Something deep in her soul scoffed, and it sounded a whole lot like her mother. Right. She couldn’t find love here. Sutter Creek wasn’t her plan. Getting back what she’d lost at work required her singular focus. She’d escaped the noise long enough; she had a reputation to salvage and a payout to secure. Having an SEC-funded nest egg would be necessary for the next few years, given she didn’t anticipate having a job to return to at Holden Management, nor would it be easy to get hired elsewhere. Firms couldn’t technically fire whistleblowers, but they usually managed to under different language. The minute she got back to civilization, she’d buy a plane ticket back to the city. Being Stella Reid, hedge-fund analyst, didn’t mix with Ryan Rafferty, county sheriff. There were a million awesome things about him, but he needed an equal exchange. He deserved someone as open and honest and trusting as he was, and she wasn’t any of those things anymore.

  So—downplay what’s happening. Make sure he knows you haven’t changed your mind about anything. “I see who you are. You’re a good guy, Ryan. And last night was a lot of fun.”

  His jaw slackened. It took him a few seconds to reply. “Fun?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah. Lots.” She stood, then made her way out to the living area, catching the whine of an approaching snowmobile.

  Squinting through the kitchen window, she spotted a single rider on a fire-engine-red sled, zipping along the trail. She glanced down at her blanket attire. Oh, crap. She was in no way prepared to face her brother, even if he was coming to help them.

  “Didn’t you say Lachlan would be here in the afternoon?” she called to Ryan, rushing over to her bag to throw on clothes.