Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
Page 4
He opened the drawer to the box of unopened condoms he’d bought a few weeks ago, thinking he’d try to scratch an itch over the holidays, not even realizing Penelope Carter would be barreling into his life for Christmas. She grabbed one, then kept her pretty eyes on him when she climbed onto his lap like she’d been there a thousand times before. Confident and sexy as hell, she straddled his thighs then took his cock in her hands and began stroking him. He pushed up on his arms, watching her as she dragged his pre-cum over the tip and slid it down his shaft, somehow making him even harder.
She gave him a sexy smile. “You’re fun to play with.”
“You’re damn good at playing.”
That smile only burned hotter as she stroked him. He had never recalled a day in his life when a hand job did anything for him but finish the job when he needed to finish. She stared right at him and then dropped some saliva onto his cock to stroke him again. The pleasure was enough to make him damn near cross-eyed. And when that pleasure began to steal his control, he shifted to gather her in his arms.
She pressed against his chest. “You stay right there.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Is that how we’re playing this?”
“Yes, Mr. Officer.” She grinned, ripping open the wrapper, and sheathed him, slowly dragging the latex over his stretched skin. When she climbed farther up his body, she kissed his stomach, then his chest, and he wasn’t even sure he was breathing anymore. She slid her mouth over his neck, and then she lowered onto him in the same second, taking him deep inside her as she whispered, “God, you feel so amazing.”
He grunted his answer, dropping his hands onto her hips as she slowly worked herself over him. Up and down, she rode him, her hands coming to his face as she kissed him. The woman knew what she was doing, and his mind began to fade as she moved away from his mouth to sit straighter and began thrusting her hips back and forth until she was grinding against him.
Fuck. She was sexy.
Her tits were bouncing. Her hips moving fast, claiming her pleasure, and damn, did she claim his too.
She dropped her head, her long hair tickling his chest as she worked her hips, harder and faster. He gripped her waist, helping her gain speed, feeling her inner muscles squeezing at him, telling him she was going to get there.
He needed her to get there. Because he was getting there too. His cock ached to blow with every perfect squeeze of her sweet pussy. She looked too good. She smelled too good. She felt so fucking incredible. His eyes pinched shut and heat roared up his spine when she fell into her climax, writhing atop him. He roared his pleasure, lifting her hips, and pumped into her from underneath.
The world faded away except for the darkness and the strain of his body, until the pulsating pleasure washed over him.
Sometime later, in the darkness of his bedroom, Penelope’s soft voice pulled him back to her. “I have a strange admission to make,” she said, breathless.
She lay atop him, dead weight, her soft breasts pressing against his rising and falling chest. He slid his hand up her damp back. “What’s that?”
She lifted up to look him in the eye, looking messy and perfect all at the same time. “I don’t regret for one second that you found me last night skating on the fountain in my high heels.”
He chuckled and kissed her. “Neither do I.”
Chapter Four
Was a drive of shame worse than a walk of shame?
Penelope contemplated that very thought on the drive to her cousins’ house the following morning, with a fresh baked apple pie resting on her lap that they’d grabbed on the drive over. The aroma of sugar and cinnamon filled Darryl’s cruiser, as the warmth rested against her thighs. Snow drifts hugged the road and the sun glistened off the bright white snow as far as the eye could see. Darryl sat next to her, playing the part of hot cop in his uniform with his dark navy-blue winter coat, one hand slung over the top of the steering wheel, taking the roads slow and easy. Tyson slept on the back seat, sprawled out like the holidays had already begun, and he’d eaten far too much. And Ebenezer stayed out of her way after their first introduction but scowled all the same on her way out the door.
All in all, her body was tender in all the right places, her chest lighter than it had been in months. And fate had given her Darryl back for a little longer to finish the fantasy that had begun with that one hot kiss by the lake.
Maybe Christmas wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
Darryl pulled his cruiser into the long driveway, hugged by evergreens that painted a pretty snowy picture this morning, and Penelope decided any type of shame didn’t leave her in the best light. The driveway ended at a big, white, colonial-style house with the black barn now turned into a brewery off to the right. Cars lined the small parking lot off to the left, not really a surprise being Saturday morning. Three Chicks Brewery was part of the brewery tour put on by local tour companies for vacationers. The middle Carter sister, Amelia, was heading into the barn with the morning tour, wearing jeans and fluffy boots.
Right as Darryl pulled his cruiser to a stop, his cell phone rang, and he grabbed it from the cup holder. “Wilson,” he answered. A pause. “Yes, sir.” A pause then his gaze flicked to Penelope. “Yeah, I’ve got an idea on that.” Another pause. “Shouldn’t be a problem.” Another pause. “Thank you, sir.”
When Darryl ended the call, Penelope had a bad feeling “That call was about me, wasn’t it?” she asked.
Darryl placed his cell back into the cup holder. “Yup, and you’re going to be my elf.”
She paused, waiting for him to correct himself. When he didn’t, she guffawed. “I’m going to be your what?”
“My elf,” he repeated easily with a sexy smile that made her belly flip-flop. “That was my captain. The video of your late-night skating has been uploaded to YouTube, so apparently, I need to handle this matter.”
She felt the widening of her eyes. “And how does one exactly handle me?”
He leaned forward a little, deepened his voice, and his tone turned sultry. “Now, Penelope, I would think by the three times last night and twice this morning, you would know exactly how I handle you.”
Damn, her nipples tightened. Breath hitched. Lower half warmed and dampened. Yeah, apparently her body was well aware of all Darryl could do. “That’s not what I meant,” she said anyway. “What exactly did your captain mean?”
Darryl winked and then his expression slid back into that of hard cop. “It means I need to show those watching—”
“Which is who?” she interjected, knowing she wasn’t going to like what he said next.
“The mayor, the captain, my fellow cops,” he explained, “that I’m not letting you off with a slap on the hand. That your little skating escapade is not one this town will tolerate from drunk tourists. The last thing we need is for that fountain to become some sort of social media booze challenge.”
Penelope decided she was not a fan of the the strait-laced side of Darryl. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Terrible things filled her mind. She finally decided the reality couldn’t be worse than getting slapped with an expensive fine she couldn’t afford. “All right, so what’s my punishment? It’s not a fine, is it?”
“There is that possibility.” He cocked his head, examining her. “But that hardly seems very Christmas-y, does it?”
“Nope, not Christmas-y at all,” she said in relief. She was barely able to pay her bills, living paycheck to paycheck. During the high tourist season, she was rolling in cash, but all the traveling and relocating and finding new places to crash for a few weeks or months made all her money bleed out.
He gave her a long look then settled into his seat. “Here’s where we’re at: It’s either a thousand-dollar fine and possible 180 days in jail for drunk and disorderly.” She died a little, and by the slight amusement glistening in his eyes, he knew it. “Or you’re going to be my helper elf during the police station events over the holidays, ending with a barn da
nce on Christmas Eve.”
“But I leave the day after Christmas,” she reminded him. “Being your elf will take up all my free time before I go.”
He grinned back. “But you’ll leave with a clear record.”
She pondered her next steps. There wasn’t a way out of this. Besides, maybe spending more time with Darryl wasn’t such a bad thing. That could lead to more sex. Right? “Okay, so what’s the plan, then?”
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”
“Perfect,” she said with a bite of sarcasm. “I’ll go find my Christmas spirit and see you tomorrow.”
She went to move away when he grabbed her chin, and somehow, that hold made her freeze. She stared into his eyes, lost in them. She was flighty. He was not. And that tight hold made her body awaken just like that, almost as if he could ground her. Darryl was this big, warm spot that she wanted to mold into. Hang on to, even. More than anything, every time he touched her, she felt like that teenage girl who didn’t know the dark ways life could be. She wanted to be that girl again.
“I enjoyed last night.” His lips twitched. “And this morning.” Then his mouth dropped to hers, and she forgot she was in his cruiser. It became only about the way she felt when his lips glided against hers. How in this second, they got their moment back, and they were taking it.
When he broke the kiss, she smiled, attempting to hide the heat he brought. Needing to get away, considering she was tempted to rip that uniform off him to get to all those hard muscles underneath, and to get his hands on her again because those hands knew what they were doing and then some, she opened the car door and hurried out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said, leaning her head back into the cruiser.
“You will.” He grinned.
The last thing she saw was his captivating eyes promising so many hot things. Then she shut the door, carefully holding the apple pie. She trotted up the front porch, the old wood creaking under her high heels.
Before she could even reach for her keys, the dark cherry-painted front door opened. Clara, the oldest Carter sister, stood in the doorway. Her reddish brown hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. She wore skinny jeans and a long sweater, covering her legs that went on and on. Her deep blue eyes were narrowed, a frown on her oval face. “You seduced the local law enforcement?”
“What’s seduced, Mommy?”
Clara’s eyes widened before she spun around, staring at her six-year-old son, Mason. He was cute as a button, with huge light green eyes and light brown hair. Both of those traits belonged to Mason’s father, who had always been a mystery. Clara never said who Mason’s father was, only that he wasn’t in their lives and didn’t want to be.
As cool and calm as she always was, Clara took the pie from Penelope then handed it to Mason. “Here, honey, take this into the kitchen for Mommy. Don’t drop it.”
Mason yanked the pie away then ran into the kitchen. A bang and some shuffling of feet, and Clara shook her head. “He totally dropped it.” She sighed, glancing back at Penelope, her frown sliding back into place. “You promised you’d be good.”
“I was good.” She smiled, shutting the door behind her. “Very good, in fact.” And so was Darryl. In bed. God, he was so good; she still tingled in all the places he’d touched. Maybe it was their history. Her longing for the guy who gave her that hot kiss, the guy who made her heart sing by saying he wanted to kiss her like that every day. That man had gifts and he knew how to use them.
Footsteps thundered along the hallway, then Maisie appeared on the top of the staircase. Her dirty blond hair was swept into a side braid, her pink Converse moved quick as she hurried down the staircase, her dark round blue eyes locked onto Penelope. “Oh, my God, tell me everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Liar.” Maisie pointed to Penelope’s face. “I saw Darryl kissing you in his cruiser. That’s a kiss from a man who got some.”
“I need more coffee for this conversation,” Penelope said, moving into the small farmhouse kitchen with the old worn white cabinets and black countertop. She grabbed a mug and made herself another coffee. The one at Darryl’s house wasn’t going to cut it today.
“Mason?” Clara called, entering the kitchen.
The pie box was on the kitchen island, slightly lopsided. The boy was nowhere in sight.
“Ooh, pie,” Maisie said, sidling up next to Penelope. She opened the box. “Messy pie, but still pie.”
When Maisie went for the plates, Penelope took a sip of her coffee. Clara always added cinnamon into the coffee before it brewed, and Penelope hugged the mug at the nutmeggy taste.
Amelia strode into the kitchen, then. All three Carter sisters shared the same slender body shape, but where they differed was in their hair, and Amelia’s had long ginger colored hair, which was a pretty contrast to her bright blue eyes. She took one look at Clara then at the pie, then smiled at Penelope. “Wondered when you’d find your way back to us.” She stepped closer and made herself a coffee, then whispered, “Saw you on YouTube. You were hilarious.”
“Don’t tell Clara,” Penelope begged.
“I won’t. Promise.” Amelia lifted the mug to her lips, and before she drank, she said, “I like you alive.”
Penelope cringed, but Maisie thrust a plate at her. She accepted it with a smile then dropped down onto a stool at the kitchen island. “Anything exciting happen while I’ve been trapped in the snowstorm?”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Clara said, moving closer, ignoring the pie, and folding her arms. “You promised you weren’t going to be any trouble.”
“I’m not being any trouble,” Penelope countered. “In fact, I’ve decided to help Darryl over the holidays with some of the Christmas events the police are putting on.”
Amelia’s shoulders shook with her laughter. Okay, so she obviously suspected this wasn’t exactly a voluntary venture.
“Really?” Clara said, some of her scowl lessening. “When did this happen?”
“Just a few minutes ago,” Penelope explained, cutting into her pie with her fork then devouring a big bite.
“Hmm,” Clara said. “Well then, I’m sorry I misjudged you. We just have a lot riding on our reputations right now.”
They did, Penelope knew that. The three sisters had inherited the property when their grandfather passed away. Instead of selling it, they all sold their houses and apartments and moved into the brewery, giving up their jobs to take their grandfather’s craft beer and work hard to get the beer distributed in North America. They were fulfilling an old man’s dream, and Penelope didn’t want to hurt that dream. “I won’t mess up. Promise.”
Clara gave her a disbelieving look, and hell, Penelope deserved that look a thousand times over. But then her gaze fell to the bay windows behind the kitchen. “Mason. You need a coat!” She rushed toward the back door, grabbing his winter coat before heading back outside.
“You’re my hero,” Maisie said with drawl when Clara disappeared out the back door. “Skating on the fountain in high heels. And somehow getting out of a Clara lecture. Amazing.”
Penelope ignored Maisie’s amusement and whirled around to Amelia. “Seriously, you saw me on YouTube?”
“Oh, yeah, and it was so damn funny,” Amelia said, digging her fork into her pie. “We also saw you fawning all over Darryl.”
Maisie handed Penelope her phone. The hazy event from the other night appeared on the screen. She wasn’t sure what she expected to feel, but she did know one thing. “Hey,” Penelope said after a minute. “I am pretty damn good in my high heels!”
Amelia laughed and nodded. “I take it things went well with Darryl?”
“Very well,” she said. “I think he’s actually gotten hotter over the years. How is that even possible?”
Maisie shrugged. “He’s probably also happy that a woman from out of town is here. All the well-meaning ladies keep trying to set him up, but it’s always with girls totally wrong for him.”
“Ha,” Penelope said. “I think that good guy thing is all for show. That bad boy could definitely be on the naughty list, especially when you get him naked.”
Maisie giggled. “Gross, and yet, I’m happy for you guys. Darryl’s sweet, and you deserve some fun over the holidays too.” She paused then smiled warmly. “Nothing like rekindling a romance to warm up the winter.”
“I wouldn’t say we’re rekindling anything,” Penelope clarified. “It was a moment. We took it.” She paused at Amelia giving her a funny look. “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” Amelia said slyly, scooping up the pie on her fork. “I’m just wondering if maybe Darryl’s the type of guy that could make you stick around and live somewhere longer than a few months.”
“No one has that magical power,” Penelope said, digging into her pie again. “Especially not a small-town cop who plays by all the rules.”
“But didn’t you just say he’s a bad boy?” Maisie countered.
“Pie,” Penelope said, pointing to her plate with her fork. “No more talking, just pie.”
Laughter filled the kitchen, and she liked that sound maybe more than she should. Ten years she’d been traveling, road-tripping all over the coast, finding work where her heart told her to stay for a bit. She liked her life. No, she loved her adventures. But if she were being honest with herself, this wasn’t so bad either. Home. Family. And neither was the idea of having more of Darryl.
An hour later, Darryl moved toward the desk with the typewriter and grabbed an incident report out of the filing cabinet. Typically, he did these reports the night the incident occurred, but the snowstorm had gotten in his way. Not that he minded. Christ, his muscles were sore, his chest was lighter, and his blood felt like it was pumping through his veins easier. Christmas came early this year, and dammit, history was repeating itself again. Five days he had with Penelope ten years ago. Five days he’d get again. At least this time when she left, he’d get to say goodbye. Though, admittedly, he was still grappling with the real reason why she left, and that it wasn’t because he’d screwed it up by blurting exactly what he’d been feeling at the time.