Merry with a Lawman (Love Beach, Holiday Collection)

11. S.O.S. to Santa

ELEVEN

S.O.S. TO SANTA

BELLE

As we come to the end of the pier, Davis swings up onto the ladder of the lifeguard tower. “You cold? Come on. Up here. With me,” he says, climbing it. I follow, if nothing else but to get out of the wind. He knocks on the door, and one of the guards lets us in.

With a motion of his head toward the door, the guy leaves, and we’re suddenly alone in the tower. Did he set this up to happen? The salty sea air mixes with his cologne and my heart is melting in this close proximity with him.

“Warmer here? And the best seats in the house for the parade.” His lips curl up on one side, so sexy.

“Well, one seat at least.” I point to the only chair in the confined space.

He sits on it then pats his lap with a full sly grin. “Here you go. Like I said. Best seat in the house.” Oof. His cockiness hits me so good.

But—“What’s going on, Davis?”

“What? Two friends can’t watch the parade together?”

“Is that what we are? This is just a friendly thing. Testing if we can just be friends again? I’ll sit on your lap and you won’t touch me?”

He swallows. “If you don’t want me to touch you, say so.”

“Yeah. Don’t touch me.” I nod.

“Fine, but wait.” He stands and removes his belt with all the usual police equipment on it, his holster, too, and sets it all aside. I love watching him, taking such pride in his uniform. Finally, he eases back down, and I settle on him, leaning against him.

Just friendly.

A few boats float by, so pretty and lit. One decked out with cutouts of elves. One with boxes of all shapes and sizes wrapped in shiny paper like presents. Another with a man dressed like Santa, shouting ho, ho, ho. I’ve seen other holiday parades on TV before, but our boat parade at Love Beach is the prettiest and most unique.

“We really do have the best view up here,” I say.

“Told you.” His lips are right there at my ear, his hot breath feathering out along my cheek. I hear him inhale deeply, like he captures my scent for all time. How can I sit here and not desire him?

The answer is, I can’t. “Davis?”

“Hm?” His fingers drum on the armrests, like they’re itching to do something. I’m longing for him as well.

“I changed my mind. Touch me.” Will he?

The drumming stops and a shattered breath leaves his lungs. “I need to know. Goddammit. I promised myself I wouldn’t ask, but I have to. Bells, have you and Richardson…?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Really?”

“It’s only been three dates we’ve been on.” I turn and look at him incredulously. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

I cross my arms, staring back at the boats, a little steaming now that he’d even ask. I almost leave, but then his hands land on my thighs. The warmth of them instantly takes the chill away.

I can’t hold back. I put my freezing hands on top of his, rubbing to heat them up. Then I urge his higher, closer to the apex of my thighs. His thumbs rub there in the gap, so close to the place I need pressure most, and his lips brush kisses along my earlobe.

“Bells, I know I have no right to feel this way after I demanded we stop seeing each other. But I fucking miss you, more than I thought I would.”

“Oh, Davis. I miss you, too.” I draw his hands even higher, under my sweater, reaching my breasts. My nipples erect, he glides his palms in circles around them.

“I need you, baby.” I can tell by the way his cock sits hard under my ass just how much. He pursues my neck and collarbone with his lips and tongue, any area of skin not covered by my sweater.

“Yes.” With one whispered word, I give him my full permission to take me. His fingers work their way back down, under the waistband of my leggings, finding my clit, but not in a hurry, circling it in slow languid movements.

“Mm. Davis,” I moan, the parade long forgotten. I’m in this now. All the way. As far as he wants to take it here in this tower. Because I still don’t have the power to push him out of my life for good.

“My Bells.” He growls into my neck, his lips brushing my skin.

I want him. All of him. His lips, too. We can’t do this anymore, unless I take possession of his lips and know once and for all what they feel like on mine.

I shift my head back, twisting my body to reach, teasing his chin with tiny kisses. Working my way up to his mouth, I finally pull his head down to meet mine. And at last…

We kiss.

He groans like a whimper at the first touch, but I refuse to stop. Not now. Not ever.

I continue tender nips and sucks and kisses along his lips, refusing to give up, until he joins in. He finally opens his lips, covering mine, placing a hand at my neck, so possessive and sexy. His tongue dances along and slips inside of my mouth when I open, meeting with mine at long last.

One kiss turns into many, our mouths permanently joined, our tongues tangling, deeper and deeper. I’m a prisoner to his claim. Lost with him at sea, caught up in kisses that leave me breathless. The significance of this moment leaves me making note of everything I never want to forget about this night. The ocean waves crashing below the pier, the sweet and teasing Christmas music, his heady Old Spice, the warmth of his body…his mouth on mine. It’s everything.

I could sit for hours like this with him. Simply kissing. Making up for all the times over the past year we never did. And we do. A million kisses must share between us. And then probably a million more, our hands groping and caressing everywhere on each other. In what has to be the single most sexy night of my life, and we didn’t even get naked.

When a knock comes at the door of the tower, we notice the parade has finished.

His forehead meets mine. “Party over, I guess,” he says in a breathless whisper.

“Yeah,” my voice barely audible. He renders me senseless, reeling from the oh so satisfying make-out session.

Does he feel anything after finally kissing me? I want to know. But as we exit the tower and walk quietly back to shore along the pier, he gives no indication what he’s thinking. Quietly inward. I have no words for what the heck happened tonight, except that it’s like a tide has turned. We took a giant leap forward after having been backward, and need to figure this out.

We soon find Gigi and Jackson, but Davis gets called away to duty by an officer running by, saying something about a fight breaking out down the boardwalk. He peers at me sheepishly. “I gotta go.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Go,” I say. “We’ll talk soon.” I hope.

Gigi, of course, wants to know everything on the ride home. But I gloss over it all, my fingers holding to my raw lips from all the kissing. I force myself to believe this night even happened.

If this was some kind of Christmas magic, give me more of it, please. I quietly send an S.O.S. to Santa Clause, as if he exists.

And send help, because I have no idea what to do about Davis now.