Page 116 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

I kiss her harder as the water pounds against us, the contrast between the hot water and the cold air in the bathroom making every sensation stronger. Then she wraps her hand around my dick, and I can’t wait any longer, not when she’s already so ready for me.

I tip my forehead to touch hers. “I don’t know how long I can last the first time.”

“I don’t care,” she says, looking up at me through wet eyelashes, her hair in wet heaps around her shoulders. “I want you inside of me. I’ve wanted it for days.”

Hell. When the girl you love says that, it’s not something you say no to.

“I’m going to pick you up and press your back to the wall. If it doesn’t feel good, tell me.”

“It’s going to feel good,” she declares, and I smile at her, reminded of the first time I tasted her. The first of many times, because I can’t get enough. If I could get away with spending all day with my head beneath her dresses, I would.

I pick her up, my hands hugging her ass, and press her to the wall. She wraps her legs around my waist, the pressure adding to the sensations building up inside of me, making my dick feel like it’s going to burst before it even gets to where it wants to go.

“You’re so strong, Ryan,” she says, as if I needed to be any more turned on.

“I could hold you up all day, sweetheart.”

I lean in and kiss her and then hold her up with one arm while I use the other to line myself up. I’m trembling, every bit of me humbled by this woman. By my love for her. I didn’t think I could love anyone like this. I didn’t think I wanted to. But she’s proven me wrong every step of the way, and I’m not sorry for it.

I push in slightly, and the sound she makes floods me with need even more than the insanely good sensation of being insideher. So blissful, I’m nearly done for. I kiss her more desperately, my tongue seeking out hers as I push in further.

It takes a great force of will not to come immediately, especially since she tightens her legs around me, trying to pull me in deeper.

“Oh, Ryan,” she says as soon as I pull my mouth from hers, still buried deep and not ready to move yet, because if I do, it might be over. I’m nearly crazy with need. Her mouth feels otherworldly around my dick, but this is better. This experience of being with her, of taking our pleasure together, is beyond anything else I’ve ever experienced.

“You’re everything to me,” I say as I pull out and drive back into her. Getting even deeper this time. Taking in the way her eyes hood with pleasure when I thrust in and pull out. Her legs pull me in closer each time, and I want to memorize the little throaty sounds she makes and the way her hair looks against the tiles as she leans her head back. I feast on her neck and her perfect nipples and her mouth, taking all of her that I can. I’m driven by a wild need to possess her—and to accept that she forgives me for the man I’ve been and wants to stand by the man I’m becoming.

When I look into her eyes, I can almost see myself the way she sees me. I don’t feel so much like an asshole anymore.

Her hips arc into me, and I feel her tightening around me—and thank God, because I need her to come before I do, and willpower will only bring a man so far.

“You feel so good around me,” I whisper into her lips. “So beautiful. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you.”

She captures my mouth in a deep kiss as I drive in again, and again, and then I feel her falling apart around me, her mouth still pressed to mine. And even though so much is still wrong, the world feels right.

I wakeup to Anabelle’s gasp. I’m disoriented and tired after staying up half the night, but the light flooding in from the window tells me it’s late morning. Meaning that we only got a few hours of sleep. Groaning, I pull a pillow over my face.

Anabelle removes it, smiling down at me, and even though I liked the light-blocking abilities of the pillow, it’s impossible not to smile back. “Are you thinking about my dick?”

She bats me with the pillow and then waves her phone at me. “Something more important.”

“Doubtful,” I mutter but take the phone.

She launches into a story about Stanley, the dick, and the couple who gave up their room for him as I scan the message.

Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry. Yes, a man contacted us about giving up the room. He paid us double what it would have cost, and we didn’t think we were doing anything wrong because he said he was going to surprise his girlfriend. He told us his name was Ryan.

I glance up at her. “Nothing gives me greater pleasure than seeing you excited, Anabelle, but I don’t see how this clears my name.”

“Weston was trying to set you up,” she says. “But you obviously didn’t email them. It’ll have come from a junk account, and someone who knows what they’re doing might be able to track down the source.”

“It’s not a smoking gun. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I still know how to use a VPN,” I say with a sigh, pulling her on top of me.

Then it hits me. I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to computers, but Idohave certain skills, and I haven’t been using them. “We have to find out where he put the Santas and ornaments.”

“No,” she says, her voice sadder than she probably realizes. “I think he probably destroyed them.”

I can tell she’s already given them up for lost, but I refuse to accept that for her.

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