Merry Christmas, Baby

  She wanted Sawyer right here next to her, all six feet of testosterone rumpled from sleep, eyes hooded and sexy, that raspy morning voice of his telling her to “c’mere”…

  But he was gone.

  In the old days he never left the bed before having his wild, wicked way with her. He’d flash a mischievous bad-boy smile and tug her over the top of him. And then roll her beneath him. After he’d had his way with her, he’d carry her to the shower and then give her yet another slow, delicious orgasm until she was begging for mercy.

  Damn it. She scrubbed her hands over her face. She’d give anything to have him here so that she could tell him she was sorry she was such a PITA. That she loved him, more than life itself.

  But he was gone, and she was a big girl who would have to deal with that.

  With a sigh, she got up and stared at herself in the mirror. She could swear that she’d doubled in size since last night. “You’d better be cute,” she told the baby, who kicked, making her laugh. It was that or cry because she spent the next two hours trying on everything that she owned, and nothing fit for the Christmas party.

  She could almost hear Sawyer saying “Then be smart and safe and stay home,” but she was tired of her own company. Come hell or high water, when that party started this weekend, she was going to be there.

  The Bean kicked again and Chloe nodded. “I like your spirit,” she told her daughter. “And the answer is yes, there will be dancing and, God willing, cake.”

  She texted Jax. She could’ve called either of her sisters, but they were on Sawyer’s side and would come up with excuses to keep her home. Maddie’s hubby, Jax, had a soft side for Chloe, and she used it ruthlessly.

  He showed up in five minutes flat, a little breathless. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, stepping close, hands going to her shoulders to look her over. “The Bean—”

  “—is fine,” she said. Jeez, would it kill anyone to ask about her first, just once in a blue moon? “I need a ride.”

  Jax got her in his Jeep in two seconds flat, quite the feat given that she was the size of a house. She knew he assumed he was driving her to the doctor, but she directed him to her friend Olivia’s vintage clothing shop.

  When Jax pulled over in front of the store, he swiveled his head and narrowed his eyes at her. “What. The. Hell.”

  “I need a dress for the Christmas party,” she said. “Nothing fits.”

  He tore off his dark sunglasses and stared at her. Jax was hot. Super hot. But he wasn’t as scary when he was pissed off as Sawyer or Ford, so she offered him her most charming smile.

  Didn’t work.

  “You got me out of a client meeting not because you’re in labor but because you wanted to go shopping?”

  This wasn’t really a question, more a statement of disbelief, so Chloe went on the offensive. “Tara and Maddie want me to sit on my ass. And my ass is sore from sitting, Jax. I’d have called Ford, but I was pretty sure he would’ve just hung up on me.”

  He stared at her.

  She started to slide out of the truck, heard him swear like a sailor, and then he was there to help her.

  “I’ll only be a few minutes,” she said.

  A lie. It took her and Olivia an hour to go through each and every dress in the store.

  None fit.

  Chloe sat in the dressing room, just she and the Bean filling the entire space, and stared at herself in the mirror. She was too tired to put her own shoes back on and get outside to Jax’s Jeep. Plus she couldn’t even see her feet.

  “You okay in there?” Olivia asked.

  “Peachy,” Chloe said with just the right amount of snark to have Olivia leave her alone.

  She hadn’t realized her eyes were shiny with her own unshed tears until Jax pushed his way into the room and crouched at her side.

  “Honey, Sawyer will be back before you know it,” he said quietly.

  Her throat tightened, and she spoke the words that had been flitting through her head for two days, the ones she hadn’t been able to admit even to herself. “He didn’t kiss me good-bye.”

  Jax let out a breath and ran a hand down her hair. “You know how he is, stoic as shit. And he’s worried about you.”

  “Then he shouldn’t have left.”

  “It’s his job,” Jax said.

  Chloe closed her eyes. God, she wanted that to be true, wanted to know that Sawyer wasn’t taking on all this crazy dangerous DEA work in order to escape her.

  Then maybe you should stop driving him away with all your crazy…

  “He loves you,” Jax said.

  Chloe sniffed and dropped her head forward until it rested on her brother-in-law’s shoulder. “You’re my favorite,” she said.

  He snorted. “Only until Ford brings you dinner.”

  True.

  “Can I take you home now?” Jax asked.

  “Can’t see my feet to put on my shoes.”

  Jax had been through pregnancy hormones with Maddie, and he was a smart man. He didn’t make a comment until he picked up one of her shoes. “Kick me and I’ll make sure Ford brings you liver and onions,” he said mildly, and had her laughing as he got her out to his Jeep.

  Jax drove her home but not before picking up hoagie sandwiches—for the baby, she’d told him. When he dropped her off, he walked her in, made sure she had everything she needed, and then left, promising her things would get better.

  “When?” she asked, but he was already gone.

  It wasn’t until that night that she found another wrapped present, on her pillow this time.

  A cashmere scarf softer than air.

  She called Tara. “Thanks for the gorgeous scarf.”

  There was a beat of silence. “I’ll be there in five,” her sister said.

  “I don’t need—” But Chloe was talking to air. Tara had disconnected. She showed up ten minutes later and took Chloe to the B&B that the three sisters ran. Maddie met them in the kitchen and served hot chocolate and cookies.

  “Not that this isn’t delicious,” Chloe said, stuffing her face. “But what’s up?”

  “Neither of us sent you any gifts,” Maddie said, face worried. But Maddie, the middle sister, the peacemaker, was perpetually worried. “Honey, do you think you have another stalker?”

  “Jeez,” Chloe said. “One time…”

  “We should call Sawyer,” Tara said.

  “No,” Chloe said quickly. Too quickly.

  Her sisters exchanged a look. “Sugar,” Tara said, “you’re drowning in pregnancy hormones so you might have forgotten just how much that man would live or die for you.”

  Damn it if Chloe’s eyes didn’t suddenly burn. She closed them and set her head on Maddie’s shoulder. “I’m making him be a daddy. I’m afraid he’s going to resent me for that, or worse, that he already does.”

  Maddie stroked her hair. “Did you poke holes in his condom?”

  “What? No, of course not,” Chloe said. “We forgot entirely that one night.”

  “So you’re both responsible. Which means you’re not making him be a daddy,” Tara said reasonably. “And besides, have you met your husband? He’s just about the toughest, most impenetrable man I’ve ever met. No one, and I mean no one, especially not a tiny little thing like yourself, makes Sheriff Sawyer Thompson do anything that he doesn’t want to.”

  Chloe squeezed her eyes tight. “I want to believe that,” she whispered.

  “Then do,” Tara said firmly. “Now have another of my cookies. The baby loves them.”

  Chloe snorted and ate another cookie. The baby kicked. “You’re right,” she said to Tara.

  “Sugar, I always am,” Tara said.

  To occupy herself, Chloe went through the stack of mail at her side. She opened a box delivered to Tara from Victoria’s Secret. A gorgeous, deep bordello red velour robe. “Wish my stalker had sent this,” she said.

  The three of them ate and chatted some more until Chloe couldn’t keep her eyes open. Her sisters fussed
over her and put her to bed in one of their guest rooms, promising Tara would serve her a luxe breakfast in bed the next morning.

  She knew what they were doing; they were giving her comfort in the best and only way they knew how, by bossing her around.

  And she was just lonely enough to let them…

  The next morning, Chloe climbed into the shower and sighed as the hot water hit her lower back. If Sawyer had been here, he’d have massaged away her aches. They had a lot of shower memories, she and her husband. The first time they’d made love had been in his shower, and it had held special memories for them ever since. And there was the night about eight months ago when she’d gotten caught in a rainstorm and Sawyer had dragged her into the bathroom to warm her up.

  One of the best nights of her life…

  “Where the hell is your jacket?” he asked as he flicked on the hot water.

  “I didn’t want it,” she said, shivering wildly. “Love the rain.”

  He just shook his head and stripped off her shirt—one of his, of course. He tossed it to the floor, his hungry gaze raking her in. Then his lips covered hers while his fingers made easy work of her panties. His hands were warm as they touched the bare skin of her ass, sliding down, pulling her tight against him, his body unyielding to hers.

  He stared into her eyes, reading her as if she were a book written just for him. She stared back, memorizing each worry line, the way his lips twitched at her scrutiny like he was thinking about smiling. She licked her lips and his eyes darkened, his voice husky as he said her name. “Chloe.”

  “I love you,” she whispered, and he went still before cupping her face, letting his thumb glide along her lower lip.

  “You don’t say that often,” he said.

  “I know.” Regret filled her. “But I feel it every minute of every day,” she told him, a confession, a vow, and had the rare pleasure of rendering him speechless with emotion.

  Her past had messed her up pretty good. And only knowing Sawyer’s had been worse had allowed to her open up to him at all.

  His body was hard, strong, rippling with power against hers, and when she was in his arms like this, she felt safe. Protected. Like nothing could ever come between them.

  The steam from the shower filled the bathroom around them, and it was like fog on a humid night as Sawyer stripped with quick efficiency, revealing his body in all its glory, a sight that even the angels would sigh over.

  He caught her staring and smirked.

  “Can’t help it,” she said. “I like to look.”

  “Good to know,” he said, and nudged her into the shower. His fingertips trailed over her skin, his teeth grazing their way to her earlobe before heading south. Gently he bit her shoulder and then laved it with his mouth until she was pushing against him, already panting for more.

  With the water raining over them, she used her mouth as a guide over his body as well, tracing his throat, the hollow at the base there, and then a pec. When she flicked his nipple with her tongue, he groaned. Threading his hands into her hair, he tipped her head to suit him and then his mouth crashed down over hers. His tongue flicked over her bottom lip, demanding entrance, gaining it when she gasped in pleasure.

  His hands slid down her back and cupped a cheek in each hand, lifting her off the ground and firmly into him. He was hard and thick against her, ready for action.

  She was ready too. To be honest, she was always ready when it came to him. But as usual, Sawyer was on his own timetable, playing by his own rules—and she’d never owned a copy of the rule book.

  “Mmm,” he rumbled in her ear, his fingers playing between her legs, making her squirm and rock into him for more. “So wet, babe. You want me.”

  Always.

  “Tell me,” he murmured, his fingers playing slip and slide with ground zero.

  She moaned and then nearly cried when he pressed her firmly into the granite and lifted his head, waiting.

  “Yes,” she managed. “I want you. I always want you, always will. Now stop teasing me and do me, damn it.”

  His smile was sheer wicked delight to her and hot as hell, making her rake his fingernails down his back, the bastard. “Please,” she said against his mouth. How was it that he could always reduce her to begging?

  His lips ravaged hers, his tongue pushing, stroking, reminding her of how he was going to feel once he was inside her. She felt her toes curl and her entire body tightened. She was an inch from orgasm when he replaced his fingers and slid home with one sure push of his hips.

  She gasped and cried out at the same time, arching against him as she came so hard she lost herself.

  She always lost herself with him. Just as, with him, she was always found. Simple and terrifying as that.

  When she could breathe again she realized he hadn’t moved and was still hard inside her. He slid his hands along the underside of her thighs, angling her hips to his. When she opened her eyes to see his fixed on her, she lost her breath.

  His eyes were dark, dark as night and just as intense. Unable to hold back, she ground her hips into his own, wanting more, always more. He brought his lips back down to hers and started to move, slowly and then more controlled.

  Trying to get more, faster, she pushed down onto him. In answer, he nipped her lip, sucking it into his mouth, using it to torture her until she arched and came again, her body completely under his control.

  “Chloe.”

  Somehow she managed to open her eyes. She’d never seen that look on his face before, and she would never forget it. Lust in its most carnal form. Lust and…love.

  Unconditional love.

  She panted his name, and he came hard, not closing his eyes until the very last second when his control deserted him. He thrust into her until they were both spent, unable to say another word, unable to move another muscle.

  It was always like that with Sawyer, Chloe mused now, soaping herself up.

  Always had been.

  And God, she missed him more than she’d ever missed anything or anyone in her life. Maybe that was because, until Sawyer, she’d never had anything worth keeping before.

  The truth was, she knew she’d never be able to get enough of him.

  God willing, he felt the same.

  Chapter 3

  Maddie drove Chloe home from the B&B. Chloe hugged and kissed her sister good-bye and then unwrapped her contraband.

  Tara’s red velvet robe.

  Next, she went to her sewing room and set about making herself a Christmas dress for the party, Gone With the Wind style.

  That night she crawled into bed and tossed and turned. Without Sawyer’s long, warm, hard body behind her, anchoring her in place, she couldn’t get comfortable.

  Nor could she sleep.

  Not with the knowledge that she’d sent Sawyer out there into a dangerous job without looking him in the eyes and telling him she loved him. That she would miss him. That he needed to come home, not to take her to some stupid Christmas party but because she couldn’t imagine her life without him.

  She flipped on the lamp beside her bed and grabbed her phone.

  And then debated. In the end, she couldn’t help herself. She texted him.

  Are you staying safe?

  Her chest tightened while she waited for a response that