The Cop Who Stole Christmas (Tall, Hot & Texan)

by Christie Craig

  Somehow, she ended up straddling his lap, the food forgotten. When his hand slipped under her sweater to unhook her bra, she didn’t even mind. She knew it was leading there and she was ready. But then he pulled back.

  “Do you want to take this to the bedroom?” he asked. “Or am I assuming too much?”

  She kissed the edge of his lips. “The bedroom sounds good.” He stood, picking her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist. “You know I can walk,” she said and giggled.

  “Don’t ruin this for me. I’m feeling macho.” He teased.

  “How much wine did you drink?” she asked.

  “It’s not the wine. It’s you.” The humor from his eyes faded a touch. “You make me feel good. I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”

  She grinned and a warm gooey feeling filled her chest. “You make me feel good, too.” The next thing she knew, he’d laid her on her bed and climbed on top of her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She felt so damn right under him. Her arms wrapped around his neck. Their lower bodies fit together and his hips shifted to offer more pressure where he wanted it most. And he wasn’t the only one moving. Suddenly, he wanted their clothes gone. He needed to be buried inside her and rocking her to orgasm.

  As soon as the thought hit, he realized he needed to slow down. Just because he was already rock hard didn’t mean she was ready. Right then, the gentle moves of her body against his stopped. She pulled her mouth from his.

  She caught her bottom lip with her teeth. Her brow pinched. “I completely forgot to . . . to get protection. I haven’t needed . . . it’s been a while.”

  He leaned on his elbows and smiled. “I bought it.” Oh, yeah, he needed to slow down. He wanted to make this good for her.

  He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Do you have any idea how amazingly gorgeous you are?”

  She smiled.

  He rolled off of her, resting on his side beside her. He picked up a strand of her hair and let it glide through his fingers. “Everything about you is soft.” He ran a finger from her hairline to her brow. “A perfect nose.” He slid the pad of his finger over her nose, to the cute little cleft on top of her upper lip. “Your mouth invites kisses.” He traced the shape of her lips. He slipped his finger inside, then out, and brought it to his lips. “You taste a little sweet. I don’t know if it’s the hot chocolate, the wine, or just you.” He leaned in and kissed her, a quick taste, meant to tease, meant to seduce.

  When he pulled back, her eyes were closed. He went back in and kissed her chin this time. He gently turned her head, and ran his finger along the side of her face. “Your ears are tiny, perfectly formed, like a seashell.” He traced the delicate shape, then his tongue followed the same path his finger had just traveled.

  “I’ve thought about kissing you here.” He pressed a moist kiss right below her ear lobe.

  “And here . . .” He moved his lips down the curve of her neck. He slipped his hand under her shirt. Her bra was unhooked and he moved under the soft fabric to find the softer flesh below. “I’ve thought about kissing you here.” He teased her already taut nipple.

  Her soft sigh told him he was doing something right. “And I’ve really thought about kissing you . . .” He ran his finger down her tight abdomen and slowly unsnapped her jeans, unzipped them, then squeezed his hand between the denim and warm skin. “Down here.”

  She inhaled deeply. His finger moved under the silk of her panties, past the soft patch of hair, and into the cleft of her sex.

  This time it was him drawing in a sharp breath. He’d started this to seduce her, but his dick was like wood. And when his finger found her wet, he wanted nothing more than to tear off his jeans and slide into her.

  He gently drew his hand out. She moaned a protest. Her eyes were bright, wide and filled with passion. “Don’t worry, I’m just getting started.” He sat up a bit and pulled off his t-shirt, then he unsnapped his jeans. He reached down and tugged the soft cotton shirt over her head, bringing the bra with it. Her hair fell from the shirt around her bare shoulders.

  Her breasts shifted and he leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth.

  “That . . . that feels so good,” she moaned and slipped her hand around to his back and up to his hair.

  “Good.” He pulled back savoring the sight of her nipple—wet, rosy and standing erect. “I think the rest of our clothes can go, too, don’t you?”

  She nodded. Her sweet sexy smile told him she was ready. Shuffling off the bed, he grabbed his wallet, and dropped the two condoms he’d brought on the nightstand. He lowered his jeans and underwear. His dick, hard and ready, bounced against his lower abdomen. He stepped out of his jeans, leaving them there on the floor.

  He saw her eyes lower to his sex and widen. She started pulling down her own jeans. “Let me help you.” Naked, he crawled back on the bed and straddled her calves. Leaning forward, he grabbed the waist of her jeans. She lifted her bottom and he slowly slid the warm denim down her legs, enjoying the smoothness of her legs as the back of his hands slipped downward. The sight of her sex, right in front of him, had him drawing in another deep breath.

  He fit his hands on her waist and slowly let his touch inch lower. He got to the juncture of her thighs and gently spread her legs apart another half inch. He slipped a finger into her sweet dampness.

  “You’re so wet.” He leaned down to kiss her as he slipped his finger inside her. The tight opening surrounded his finger and she let out a throaty sound.

  “You like that?” he asked.

  “Too much,” she said.

  “I don’t think you can like something too much.”

  “I think you can,” she said, and before he knew what happened, she’d maneuvered him down on the bed and was straddling his legs.

  The vision of her naked above him, her thighs slightly parted, her sex open, had his dick throbbing.

  She leaned over him, planted her open palms on his chest, then moved in and kissed him. The kiss didn’t last long. She rose back up, let her hands slowly glide down his chest, down his abdomen, and she finally took his sex in her hand. She glided her soft palm up and down.

  “Okay, you’re right,” he managed to say. “You can like something too much.”

  She laughed.

  He reached for a shiny package. She took it from him. Using her teeth, she opened it, then rolled the condom down his length.

  She leaned down again, lifted her hips. He felt his sex find her soft core, and with a slowness that nearly killed him, she lowered herself on top of him.

  When she settled on top of him, he fit his hands around her waist. He rocked her back and forth, and it almost brought him to orgasm.

  “Slow or fast?” he asked, barely able to speak.

  She started rocking. “Slow,” Her pace, an easy movement, was torture. Sweet torture. “And then fast.” Her pace increased.

  Unable to take it, he rolled her over, and came down on top of her. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.” She offered him another of her precious smiles.

  With each push he went deeper. He took it slow at first, and only when he felt her breath catch against his shoulder and felt her tight opening milking him, did he find the pace his body begged for—the fast and hard thrusts that took him over the edge.

  • • •

  “You . . . okay?” he asked breathlessly.

  Savanna couldn’t talk, so she nodded against his shoulder.

  He came down beside her holding her against his chest. Holding her so close. So tenderly.

  “Savanna?”

  “Huh?” She managed one word. She’d never considered herself overly educated where sex was concerned. She’d had four different lovers, some better than others, but she’d assumed she’d experienced sex in all its glory.

  But the sex she’d known, compared to what she’d just experienced was well . . . like comparing a merry-go-round to a roller coaster. And not a baby roller coaster either, but
one that scared the bejiggies out of you.

  Never had an orgasm taken her that far. Never had she wanted it so badly.

  His little touching and talking foreplay made her ache for more.

  Ache to have him inside her.

  Ache to make him want her as badly as she wanted him.

  Had her aching for more.

  She already wanted more.

  He brushed her hair from her face. “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  He studied her. “You sure? You look . . . startled.”

  “No . . . it was . . . good.”

  He smiled, and she could swear she noted a little insecurity there. “Just good?”

  She grinned. “Amazing.”

  “That’s more like it.” He laughed and pulled her against him and rolled over, bringing her on top of him. “But I was thinking more along the lines of phenomenal, or astonishing.”

  “How about incredible?” she asked.

  He kissed her. “I’ll take that one, too. Now I’m starved. Let’s go finish off the leftovers.”

  “We just ate.”

  “No, you ate,” he said. “Most of my dinner ended up on my chest.”

  She giggled. “If you’d let me use a fork, that wouldn’t be the case.”

  “Come on.” He stood up, completely comfortable standing there wearing nothing but a used condom. And damn, if he couldn’t pull off even that look.

  Suddenly realizing she was even more naked than him, she tugged the sheet over her.

  “No!” he said. “I worked hard getting you naked, I get to enjoy it for a while longer.” He gave the sheet a tug.

  She tugged harder.

  He fell on the bed and they wrestled, laughing the whole time.

  In the end they compromised. She wore his Chinese food-stained t-shirt, but no underwear. He went to the bathroom and donned his boxers.

  They ate the rest of the food—well, he mostly ate the food—and they drank the rest of the wine.

  Savanna worried he’d refuse to stay the night, and since his house was right across the street, she couldn’t even make the point that it was too late to go home. But nope, they sat on the sofa and talked for another hour. He told her more about his travels, and asked her about how she’d decided to open a flower shop. She told him about her favorite vacation as a kid—they’d gone to a dude ranch and her father had gotten skunked. And then he’d stood up, held out his hand, and pulled her back into her bedroom.

  He removed her/his t-shirt, saying it had too many stains to sleep in, and then he crawled in bed as naked as she was and made love to her again.

  She hadn’t believed it could be as good, but she’d been wrong. He’d taken more time. She’d never understood the saying “slow hands” until now. He had the slowest hands, and by the time he got around to touching her where she ached the most, she was almost mad.

  As Savanna fell sleep, her head on his chest, she decided it was the best night she’d had in years.

  • • •

  Mark woke up, Savanna draped on top of him, and he was hard and ready. Her bare breasts rested on his bare chest and it felt nice. He raised his head and noted how her hair scattered around his chest. He smiled. Damn she was pretty and soft and sexy. He recalled how they’d laughed through dinner, how fucking fantastic the sex was. He wanted to kiss her awake, to start making plans for dinner tonight. For more sex. Hell, he wanted to figure out what he needed to buy her for Christmas. When was her birthday? He didn’t want to miss her birthday.

  His chest gripped.

  He needed to get in control of his emotions, this was so new and he was already so . . . invested. But holy hell, how had he gotten here so fast? Logically, statistically, he knew this was probably going to end, and when it did, it was going to hurt like hell.

  No! He didn’t want to think about it ending.

  She lifted her head, her eyes met his.

  “Good morning.” He smiled. She didn’t smile back. “Something wrong?”

  “Sorry,” she said. “I just . . . It’s been a while since I woke up with anyone besides my cat.” A meow sounded at her ear.

  He watched her tug at the sheet and sit up. She gave her cat a few gentle stokes. He couldn’t help but be jealous. He had something for her to stroke, too. Then again, he didn’t have a condom. Why hadn’t he brought three?

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  He glanced at her clock. “Five forty-five.” Was there enough time to run across the street for a condom? “What time do you have to be at work?”

  “I should start getting ready.”

  Damn.

  He could tell she was experiencing a little of the awkward morning-after thing.

  “What time do you have to be at work?” she asked.

  “Eight.”

  “You could just stay here and grab another hour of sleep.”

  It wasn’t sleep he was craving. He leaned in and kissed her. “I’ll see you tonight. Dinner, right?”

  She nodded. “Oh, tonight’s Tuesday, I can’t. I meet Bethany and Jennifer for dinner every . . . Tuesday.”

  “Not at Juan’s restaurant?”

  “No, we’re trying that new California Cuisine place on First Street.” She bit down on her lip. “I’ll be home around eight . . . if you wanted to come over . . . for a glass of wine, or something.”

  Did something include getting her naked?

  “Yeah.” He paused and then just said it. “I’ll miss you today.”

  She smiled. “I’ll miss you, too.”

  “How about I make us some coffee while you shower? You do have coffee, right? You have time for a quick cup?”

  “Yeah. The coffee’s in the fridge. The filters are in the cabinet above the coffee maker.”

  “Take a shower. I’ll have coffee made when you get out. Do you want me to make you some toast or anything?”

  “No, I’m fine.” She tugged the sheet off the bed and waddled across the bedroom. And looked adorable doing it.

  “I saw it all last night,” he said. “And a couple of nights before.”

  She looked back and grinned. “But this is daytime.”

  “And that makes a difference, why?”

  Her brow creased. “I don’t know, but it does.”

  He watched her shuffle toward the bathroom and he made himself a promise that he’d get her naked in the middle of the day, just to prove he could. “You’re beautiful. You should parade around naked all the time.” The door closed then opened and she peered out. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

  “You said I was awesome last night.”

  He could swear her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “You were.” The door shut. He heard the spray of her shower and he’d give almost anything to join her. To get her all soapy and . . .

  He moaned. He’d promised her coffee. He glanced down at his overly optimistic hard-on greeting the day with a big hello.

  “Not happening, guy.”

  • • •

  Savanna stepped under the spray of warm water, dropped her chin on her chest and accepted defeat. She’d failed. Failed the have-sex-and-keep-it-casual test.

  She knew it the moment he smiled at her right after she’d opened her eyes.

  She didn’t want to keep it casual.

  Oh, she wasn’t a fool. She wouldn’t go so far to say she loved Mark Donaldson, but the seed felt planted. A seed of possible love. A seed of hope . . . hope for a future. A seed that wasn’t at all casual.

  Wait, hadn’t she done this very thing with Clint? Had sex and then went into planning a lifelong commitment?

  Then bam, it hit her all over again. Clint was dead. But for the last eight or nine hours she hadn’t even thought about him.

  Oh, hell, was that what was going on? Was she fixating on Mark so she wouldn’t have to think about Clint? No, that wasn’t it. Her heart wasn’t that opportunist. The way Mark made her feel, the great sex, the shared laughter, that was . . . real. So real she wa
nted it to become realer.

  But what did Mark want?

  I’ll miss you today.

  She recalled him not wanting to talk about his ex-fiancé. Did he still love her?

  He’d also asked if she wanted to slow things down. Perhaps she should have said yes. Taking a deep breath, she decided all she could do was . . . Oh, hell. She didn’t have a clue what to do.

  Stepping out of the bathroom, the smell of coffee greeted her. Okay, there was something she could do. She could go to work and pretend like she hadn’t had the best sex in the world last night. Pretend it didn’t matter that Mark was possibly still in love with someone else.

  She dressed, did minimal makeup, and then went to start pretending. He was pulling cups down from her cabinet. Shirtless. He looked really good shirtless. She had a few flashbacks of them making love.

  Making love?

  Why did she look at it as making love? They’d had sex. Get down, get naked, sex.

  “Black, right?” he asked.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  He poured her a cup and brought it to her. She held it to her lips and stared at him over the rim. The moment grew long.

  He exhaled. “Okay, tell me this is just the normal awkward morning-after thing, or do you have regrets?”

  “No regrets. Just maybe a little concern.”

  “About what?” he asked.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Savanna hesitated and then just spoke the truth. “That maybe it happened too soon.”

  He shook his head. “You have to stop thinking like a woman.”

  She frowned. “I am a woman.”

  “Oh, I know.” His smile came with some sexual innuendo.“ But you need to stop thinking like one. For a man, it’s never too soon. Besides, I’ve had my eye on you for months.”

  She arched a brow. “Please. You didn’t know I existed until I forced you to—”

  “You do lawn work every Sunday afternoon around four. You get home from work at different times, but you have a standing outing most Saturdays around eleven and on Tuesdays you always arrive a little late—like this afternoon.”