Page 21 of Hot Water

She gives an adorable little squeak when I press her back against the cool glass wall. Her pouty lips are too perfect to resist. I cover her lips with mine and kiss her to within an inch of her life.

When I reach between us and pinch her clit, she comes hard and drags her lips away from mine. I lean my forehead against hers and slow my thrusts, letting her ride out the waves of pleasure. “I love you, little mermaid.”

“I love you, too,” she whimpers, and I know I’ll never grow tired of hearing those words falling from her lips. She runs her hands through my wet hair and holds on while I bring her to another climax. This time, she clenches her inner muscles tight around my cock, dragging my ass along with her.

CHAPTER 8

AMELIA

“Jesus H. Christ,” Sterling grunts, stumbling as he hauls one of my boxes out of the back of the truck. “What the fuck did you pack in this thing?”

I glance up at the box in question and smile. “That one has books in it.”

“Mermaid, half these fucking boxes have books in them,” Sinclair grumbles, dropping a kiss on my forehead as he jogs down the steps with Sullivan hot on his heels. “We’re going to have to build a library in the new house for you.”

“I like this plan, Sheriff.” I beam up at him, patting him on the butt.

Sullivan sees me do it and shakes his head, smirking. “I’d tell you two to get a fucking room, but you have an entire apartment. You just need to keep your hands off each other long enough to let us unload your shit into it.”

“Her stuff isn’t shit, dipshit.” Sinclair smacks him upside the head when I gasp in outrage. “Jesus. No wonder you’re still single.”

“Uh, you were single a month ago, fucker.”

“You’re both idiots,” Sterling says with a sigh, squeezing past them with my box. “How about you quit bickering and help me unload the truck?”

“I like this plan,” I say, pointing at him.

Sterling chuckles, heading up the stairs that wrap around the side of the garage to the apartment I’ll be sharing with Sinclair while he builds our house. Honestly, I’d be happy staying in the apartment, but he insists we need something bigger. The apartment is freaking massive, though. It has plenty of room for the two of us and all my books. Maybe even a baby or two.

But Sinclair is on a mission to build a not-haunted house, and I’m just happy that we’re finally back together. The last ten days away from him were the longest of my life! But he had to be here for his job, and I had to be in Los Angeles to tie up loose ends.

I’m going to miss being near my family, but I’m so freaking excited to be starting my life with Sinclair. I’ve been walking on cloud nine all week. The second he pulled into the driveway to pick me up two days ago, I was out the door, jumping into his arms.

My dad wasn’t thrilled about that. Actually, he isn’t thrilled about any of this. But he’s warming up to the idea of Sinclair—mostly because he sees how crazy Sinclair is about me. And as overprotective as my dad is, he wants us girls to find the same happiness that he and my mom have.

Sinclair is my happiness.

And Midnight Falls, Texas, is going to make a great home for our family. I mean, we may have to hire an exorcist or two to bless the entire town first, but I think between the two of us, we can afford that.

“I’ll go get a box and help Cranky,” Sullivan mutters, jogging back to the truck. “You’d think the fact that his wife is pregnant would have mellowed him out. Instead, he’s an even bigger pain in my ass than usual.”

“I heard that!” Sterling shouts from halfway up the stairs.

“It wasn’t a secret!” Sullivan shouts back before hauling a box out of the back of the truck. He grunts, turning to look at me, all disgruntled-like. “Really, Amelia? More books?”

I hide my face in Sinclair’s shoulder, laughing.

“They’re bitching now,” he mutters. “They didn’t have to load the fucking things into the truck.”

“Hey. My dad helped,” I protest, pulling back to look at him.

“Mermaid, your dad threatened to murder me in about eighty different ways. If that’s what you call help, we have got to get you a dictionary to go with all of those dirty books of yours,” he says, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip.

“He did not.” I bite my lip, fighting a smile because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what my dad did. He was in the military before he opened his shop. He probably knows eighty ways to kill a person.

“Uh, yes, he did.”

“Don’t worry, Sheriff.” I pat him on the chest. “I’ll protect you.” And then what he said registers, and I frown. “Hey. How do you know my books are dirty?”

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