Page 21 of Her Cowboy Santa
“Actually, we’re headed that way now,” I tell them and quickly scoop up Danny. I don’t want to be underfoot. This is their house after all. “Night, Nate.”
He calls out goodnight to me as I hurry down the hall. I listen to the sounds of the house once I’ve put a very sleepy Danny into his crib. The soft click of Nate’s doorknob lets me know he’s gone to bed too.
I stare at my doorknob without blinking for several long moments, willing it to turn. But it never does, so I shake my head.
“Get that idea out of your head,” I mutter. I change into my favorite, worn flannel pajamas. They were a gift I gave myself about a year ago when I was pregnant. I grabbed them from the men’s section, desperate to find something that was comfortable against my swollen belly.
Since having Danny, I’m no longer swollen but I’m not about to give up the most comfortable pair of pjs I own, even if they do hang a little loosely on my frame. I let down my hair, allowing it to flow in soft waves and brush my teeth.
I’ve just settled into bed with the covers pulled up when there’s a quiet knock on my door. My heart pounds wildly in my chest. With a glance toward the crib, I creep out of bed.
Nate is standing in the doorway. “I didn’t want this night to end.”
Chapter 11
Callie
I can’t help grinning as I open the door wider for him to sneak into my room. I love the thought that the rest of the household has no idea what we’re doing. It’s our little secret. “I didn’t want the night to end either.”
The moment he crosses the threshold into my room, we’re on each other. His lips are everywhere, pressing gentle kisses to my ear, my jaw, my neck.
When his hands go to my hips, he growls, “Come here.”
He lifts me, and I instinctively wrap my legs around him. I grind my core onto his pajama-clad bulge.
He carries me to the bed, letting me slide down his body onto the plush quilts. I groan at the feel of our bodies together. This is what I’ve needed, what I’ve been hurting for all night.
“I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you,” he whispers as he collapses over me. He’s keeping his weight off me, supporting himself on his arms, but he’s so deliciously warm above me.
“When I saw you for the first time in those tight Wranglers, it made me tingly,” I admit.
“Everything about you makes me horny,” he says before he kisses me again, sweeping into my mouth. He strokes my tongue slowly as if we have all the time in the world.
My blood heats and my face flushes hot. I need to stop this. I need to tell him the truth. I push against his shoulder.
He lifts his head, staring down at me. His eyes looked drugged as if he’s just as addicted to this feeling between us as I am.
“I have to tell you something,” I whisper as my body continues to move, writhing against him. My mind might be screaming at me to slow down, but my libido wants this big, strong cowboy to make me come so many times that I can’t walk by morning.
“As long as you’re not married, I don’t care about anything else.”
My heart is pounding, wondering how he’s going to take this.
“This is kind of a big deal, me doing this,” I admit.
I don’t tell him that I’m nervous. I’m pretty sure he can see it on my face.
Fury crosses his expression. “Your ex never took care of you in bed.”
“I’m hard to please,” I explain, the familiar shame welling up. “It takes me a long time to get there. Sometimes, I can’t come at all.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not your fault. If he can’t make you feel safe out of the bedroom, he’s sure as hell not going to be able to make you orgasm in it. The fucker never made you feel treasured and cherished.”
“No, he didn’t,” I admit quietly. I accepted all of it. I was so desperate for any affection that I tolerated the scraps he would throw my way.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “What helps? Anything in particular you like?”
My gaze drops to his lips then lower to his beard. I’ve wondered how it would feel between my thighs ever since we met.
