Slowly, Wyatt came awake. He was cold, his nose and cheeks and ears feeling frozen, almost frostbitten, but his body was deliciously warm. And comfortable. There was a soft, warm body next to his that smelled so good. Even before he was fully awake, his dick was standing at attention. He wanted to snuggle up against…
Abby Connelly?
He froze, his arm wrapped around her waist, and his eyes staring at her profile, just an inch away from the curve of her ear. He wanted to lean forward and nuzzle her neck. He wanted to kiss his way over to her delightfully pink mouth, open as she breathed in and out softly, dead asleep to the world.
The high windows running the length of the cell block let in a little light, weak and faltering and gray, but there. Enough to know who he was lying next to, enough to know that last night, when she’d invited him to sleep next to her, that it hadn’t been a dream.
As cold as it was in the cell, what with his right arm out above the blanket and feeling only slightly warmer than popsicle, he knew that her allowing him to sleep next to her kept him warm enough to actually sleep. Lying on the cold cement jail floor, he might’ve otherwise spent a miserable night shivering, teeth chattering, trying to stay warm, even with Maggie.
He drew his arm down, underneath the blankets, as quietly as he could, trying not to disturb Abby. As much as his mind knew that lying there with her was a Class A Awful Idea, his body…it quite liked the idea, to say the least.
He closed his eyes, pretending for just a moment that he was at home, in bed, and it was his wife lying next to him.
It was a dangerous game to play. He shouldn’t be playing it. He knew that, without a doubt in his mind.
But that didn’t make the temptation any less real. Any less overwhelming.
I think I’m falling in love with Abby Connelly.
He squeezed his eyes as hard as he could, as if to push those words out of his mind.
Even more so than wanting to sleep with her, falling in love with her was a giant no-no, complete with red flashing lights and a siren going a million miles a minute.
Out of all the women in all the world to fall in love with, Abby was the Number One Worst Choice Ever. Her father hated his guts, she was his jailer, and…
And…
Well, he was sure there were more reasons that it wouldn’t work between them. He just had to take the time to come up with them.
He searched, flipping through reasons, until he realized that every one of them were reasons that he was attracted to her. The way she’d laugh until she snorted, and then she’d turn this brilliant, gorgeous pink. How thoughtful she was, even requesting that the diner not put tomatoes on his sandwiches after their discussions on the downright awfulness of raw tomatoes and how they simply weren’t fit to be eaten.
And she was gorgeous – absolutely, perfectly, wonderfully gorgeous. She’d been too skinny in high school; too much of a stick for his tastes. He hadn’t paid much attention to her back then, because she’d been so much younger than him, and because she just hadn’t been his type. He liked women with meat on their bones, not women who he’d crush just by looking at them sideways.
But ever since high school, she’d started to fill out, her curves just right. Her curves, which were currently pressed against him. He stifled a groan. He was going to end up a eunuch if this lasted much longer, or at least wishing he was a eunuch. He only had so much self-control and the little that was there was rapidly disappearing, the longer she lay next to him.
She mumbled in her sleep and his breathing stopped. As torturous as it was to lay next to her, it was even worse to contemplate having her leave. He didn’t want her going anywhere. At age 66, he would still want to be right there, hoping she would continue to sleep.
But her mumbles got a little louder and then her eyelashes fluttered open. Her lips curled softly into a drowsy smile…
Right before it hit her.
She shot up in bed, clutching the blankets to her chest as she went. Wyatt instantly shivered from the blast of freezing cold air that hit him.
“Hi. Good morning. I’m getting out of bed now. Sorry to disturb you. I’m leaving. Good day.”
Throughout that barrage of words, she was trying to wiggle over him without actually touching him in the most awkward horizontal mamba in the history of mankind. She got to the edge of the bed and tumbled off, hair flying through the air as she landed with a loud thump on the floor. Maggie Mae, who’d curled up in the nest of blankets that Wyatt had left on the floor, stood up with a stretch and then nosed her new companion on the floor, taking a swipe at Abby’s nose and mouth in greeting.
“Hi, Maggie,” Abby said, clearly not comfortable at all, while also still being about 52% asleep. “I need to go and I need to do stuff. Important stuff. Official stuff.” She scrambled to her feet, her wrinkled uniform in a disarray, and Wyatt was sure, for just a moment, that he’d spotted a red lacy bra before she straightened her shirt out.
“You need any help with that important, official stuff?” Declan asked dryly. She whirled around, her hand on her chest. She obviously hadn’t realized Declan was awake any more than Wyatt had.
“Sure. Yes. That’d be great. I’ll be upfront. I’ll meet you when you’re ready,” she said, scooping up her service belt on her way out of the cell. She left the door slightly open so Declan could get out without a problem and headed up front without looking back.
Declan looked at Wyatt, then at the floor, then back at Wyatt again.
“Wanna tell me about the sleeping arrangements last night?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Didn’t think so.”
Wyatt and Declan both slid out of their warm bunks and into the freezing cold air. Wyatt threw on his shoes and wrapped his blanket around himself as Declan got dressed for the day.
“Hey Wyatt?” Declan said as Wyatt paused at the door of the cell, ready to let Maggie out into the courtyard for a morning bathroom run.
“Yeah?”
“Merry Christmas. Maybe next one will be better.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
Except as Wyatt walked with Maggie to the courtyard door, careful not to let the door swing shut behind him, he couldn’t help thinking that his Christmas morning hadn’t been too shabby.