Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
Whitney
Penny’s eyes widen when I walk into the kitchen the next morning, following the scent of freshly brewed coffee.
“It’s Casual Tuesday,” I say, and she chuckles.
I’m wearing black leggings with a long sleeveless tunic over them. And I’m wearing a flannel shirt unbuttoned over that. After dealing with the office snafu yesterday afternoon, I went back to the General Store and bought myself warm socks and this red plaid flannel shirt, along with my coffee.
I guess it is convenient to find everything you need in one store.
“There will be painting involved,” I add.
“Ah, Santa’s sleigh. I’ve heard a lot about it because it’s in the event barn with the inn’s float, which means the library’s float—which Erin always builds here—is in the garage. And it’s Randy’s spot in the garage that got bumped.”
“Rob told me the sleigh got evicted from its usual storage by a project car. He has to park his SUV in his garage so it’s always cleared off in an emergency. And it sounds like it can’t live here.”
Penny shrugged. “Somebody suggested putting up a storage shed behind the town barn, but nobody wants to pay for it.”
I make a mental note to add it to the Charming Lake list Donovan asked me to keep. Problems stemming from a lack of funding in his adopted community have a way of quietly getting solved.
I’ve just finished my second cup of coffee—and a lovely cinnamon roll I nicked from Penny—when Rob’s SUV pulls in. I shove my feet into my boots and meet him in the driveway, where he hands me one of the cups he brought from the General Store.
“Flannel looks good on you,” he says, giving me a suggestive lift of one eyebrow that makes me blush.
“I try not to paint sleighs wearing anything dry clean only, as a rule.”
After he unlocks the side door into the barn and reaches in to flip the light switch before stepping back to let me in, I have to admit the sleigh is impressive. Colorful and huge, like one of the fantastical sleighs from old children’s book illustrations, it sits on a low trailer.
“Once it’s in place, there’s a skirt that goes around the bottom of the trailer, and wooden steps so the kids can get up there,” he explains. “Most of the touch-ups are on this side, where everybody grabs to climb in, and their boots hit the side. Wear and tear type stuff.”
“Let’s do it,” I say. “Right after I drink a little more of this coffee.”
We’ve done the bigger patches and are barely an hour into the finer details—him working on the green holly leaves while I touch up the gold scrollwork—when his radio squawks and he has to go.
“Sorry. Hazard of the job. Will you be okay?”
“I’ll keep working on it. I don’t mind doing it alone.”
“Those brushes are expensive. To clean them, you have to?—”
I wave my hand toward the door. “I’ll watch a YouTube video. Go.”
When he finally returns, four hours later, I’ve finished cleaning the brushes to the best of my ability. And I think the sleigh touching-up is complete, which is good because he looks utterly exhausted, especially around the eyes.
He’s also freshly showered, which probably means the call was an actual fire and not a medical call or an accident. Being careful not to touch the outside I’d touched up, he climbs up on the sleigh and sinks onto the bench seat next to me with a sigh of relief. I don’t blame him. It’s more like a leather sofa than a bench seat.
“Was it bad?” I ask quietly.
“Christmas tree fire. Old light strings.” He gives me half a smile. “But it could have been worse. The family can stay with the grandparents and the living room was the only damage. The presents were already under the tree, though.”
He pulls out a slip of paper and hands it to me. I scan the list of items, including a gaming system the parents had probably saved up for months to buy. After snapping a picture of the list and emailing it to myself so it’ll be waiting when we’re done painting, I tuck it in the pocket of my flannel shirt. I don’t even need to run this purchase by my boss because I know his answer. “I can make these reappear.”
“You would totally rock that elf costume,” he teases, making me laugh.
“Come on now, my flannel and leggings don’t do it for you?”
“Sweetheart, you could wear a potato sack and I would instantly develop a burlap kink.”
Judging by the intense heat in his eyes when he says it, I’m not sure he’s joking. Desire sizzles through my veins and I know I should move—or at least look away—but I can’t make myself.
I don’t want to.
We’ve been sitting almost sideways, facing each other, and then one of us—I don’t know if it’s me or him, or maybe both—leans in and then we’re kissing.
His mouth is hot and demanding, the kiss deep, and I’m so hungry for more, I throw my leg over his and straddle his lap without thought.
I moan when he pulls the elastic from my ponytail so he can bury his fingers in my hair. His other hand is clutching my ass as I move my hips, gliding along the erection that’s prominent, even through his uniform pants.
Everything becomes a blur of desire and the need to have more of my skin in contact with his skin. The flannel shirt slides off easily, and then his mouth leaves mine to blaze a trail of kisses down my neck and over my bare shoulders.
Rob stops touching me just long enough for me to pull his shirt over his head, and then both his hands are cupping my breasts. My nipples are so taut and sensitive, his thumbs brushing them shoots pleasure through me, despite the fabric of the sleeveless tunic and my bra.
When he slides his hands under the tunic, trying to push it up and out of his way, I yank it off and toss it onto his discarded shirt. He doesn’t even give me time to unfasten my bra—he pulls the cups down and draws my nipple into his mouth.
“Wait,” I say breathlessly, threading my fingers through his hair to hold his head still. “We don’t have any protection. I don’t want to get into this and then have to stop.”
His hand slides between my thighs. “We wouldn’t necessarily have to stop everything. ”
I take Rob’s chin in my hand, making him look me in the eye. “If I’m going to sully Santa’s sleigh, I want it all . This is, like, naughty-list-forever level stuff, so it better be worth it.”
Heat flares in his eyes. “I have a condom in my wallet.”
I laugh and push him away. “You are not supposed to carry those things in your wallet, you know.”
“I know.” He gives me a sheepish grin. “But it’s only been in there a couple of days. I guess you could say I’m an optimist.”
“I can feel your optimism,” I say, moving so my sex rubs the hard length of him. When he groans, I take mercy on him and stand so he can unfasten his pants and shove them down before sliding his wallet out of the back pocket. After digging the condom out, he tosses the wallet onto the shirts and opens the packet.
While he’s taking care of business, I add my leggings and underwear to the pile. Then his hands are on my hips, hauling me back to astride his lap.
Rob’s mouth closes over my nipple again, sucking hard, and I press down against him, trying to give my body what it’s craving so desperately.
Then he rests his forehead against my sternum and trails his fingers lightly up the inside of my thigh. “Are you ready? Or do you need more?”
“Usually I’d make you work for it, but I just want you inside me now.”
“Oh, thank the elves,” he mutters, and that’s why I’m giggling when he reaches between our bodies and guides himself into me.
My breath leaves me in a long, shuddering sigh as I lower myself slowly, rocking slightly until he fills me. Then I’m still, savoring the feeling, while his fingers grip my hips.
His breath is coming in bursts, and I know he’s exerting all the self-control he can muster. I lean forward and kiss him, and his tongue plunges into my mouth. He fists his hand in my hair, not letting me go.
I start to move, lifting up and then slowly lowering myself. The friction is delicious, but when his fingers tighten in my hair, I quicken the pace.
He groans, and then his hand is between us, his thumb stroking my clit. It sends me over the edge and as my muscles clench and I throw my head back, riding him through my orgasm, I’m not surprised he follows me right over the edge.
Panting, I collapse against him. Together, we wait to catch our breaths and for the tremors to fade while he kisses my neck and my shoulder and caresses my back.
“I wish I’d jerked off before I came back here,” he said, sounding a little sheepish. “I would have liked to spend another hour or six inside of you.”
I chuckle and then give him a quick kiss. “Sometimes fast and explosive is just what a body needs.”
“My body definitely needed your body,” he says as I straighten.
He holds the condom in place while I climb off of his lap, and as I pull my underwear on, he wraps it in a paint rag that was left on the floor of the sleigh. Then, after pulling up his boxers and pants, but not buttoning them, he pivots so he’s lying across the bench with his legs over the side. I hope the paint’s dry.
Then he pulls me on top of him, and as my body relaxes on his, I stop caring about the paint. He’s a very comfortable man to lie on, and my body is so satisfied right now, my muscles are content to just melt into his warmth.
“We could just sleep here,” he mutters into my hair.
“It’s not even suppertime yet. Also, we’re not nineteen and we’ve got about ten more minutes in this position before we need to call for help getting up. Nobody wants that.”
“Good point. We could sneak upstairs to your bed. Nobody would even know I’m there.”
“Again, it’s not bedtime yet.” I chuckle, pushing myself up. I need to get out of here before we get into it again and find ourselves a condom short. “Your vehicle’s in the driveway, and it’s pretty distinctive since it’s bright red and has the CLFD logo on the doors and a light bar.”
“My vehicle’s often in the driveway.”
“But the people inside know you’re not inside with them.”
“Penny won’t say anything.”
I’m sure he believes that, but he also doesn’t have anything to lose if he’s wrong. Though I have no idea how my boss would feel about me being naughty in Santa’s sleigh with his brother-in-law, I’d rather not take the chance he’d question my professionalism.
“Time for you to go,” I insist, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. “Let’s clean up. And make sure you get that rag from the sleigh because Charming Lake doesn’t need a generational memory about the year a used condom was stuck to Santa’s boot.”
We laugh while quickly fixing our clothing situation, and then we make quick work of cleaning up the barn.
Then Rob’s radio squawks again, and he listens to the information before cursing under his breath. “Dammit. I was going to drag you to the diner and use fries to lure you into letting me sneak into your room tonight, but this one’s going to take a while.”
“Raincheck,” I say, even though I don’t really mean it. Sneaking around in a barn is one thing, but I can’t have Rob Byrne in my bedroom. “Go. I’ll see you at the station in the morning.”
He pulls me in for one quick—but fierce—kiss, and then he’s gone.