Maverick Christmas Surprise

by Brenda Harlen

  Chapter Twelve

  As Beth watched Wilder unbutton his shirt, all rational thoughts slipped from her brain, her mouth went dry and her body got warm. His fingers deftly unfastened the second button and, imagining how those strong, calloused hands might feel against her skin, she felt a quiver low in her belly.

  She wondered if he would open a third button, and then a fourth, so that she could discover if his broad chest and flat stomach were as chiseled in real life as they were in her imagination. Because yes, she’d imagined and fantasized about the handsome cowboy undressed. Dreamed about him—about his naked body entwined with her own. And woken up embarrassed and ashamed to realize that she could harbor such wanton feelings for a man who’d been her sister’s lover—and was very likely the father of Leighton’s baby.

  Beth swallowed hard and tried to quash the lustful thoughts that teased her body and her brain.

  “What?” she asked, when she realized he’d spoken but she hadn’t heard a single word.

  “I asked if it was okay for me to hang out here with you.”

  “It’s your house,” she reminded him.

  “But you’ve got the remote.”

  “That means I’m in charge?”

  He smiled at her dubious tone. “At least in charge of the TV.”

  She handed the controller to him. “I should probably head up to bed, anyway.”

  “It’s not even ten thirty,” he pointed out, his voice tinged with amusement.

  “Oh,” she said, feeling foolish. Because even a killjoy like her knew that going to bed at ten thirty on New Year’s Eve was beyond lame. “I guess I could stay up a little longer. But I’m going to apologize in advance.”

  “For what?”

  “The fact that I’ll probably fall asleep before the clock strikes midnight.”

  He gasped, feigning shock. “On New Year’s Eve?”

  “Cody was up three times last night,” she told him. “I’m convinced, by the way he’s been gnawing and drooling, that a couple of teeth will be breaking through soon.”

  “Is that what the book says to watch for—gnawing and drooling?”

  “There isn’t one book that’s the authority on everything, and every baby is different,” she chided. “But yes, those are generally recognized as common signs of teething.”

  “If you don’t think you’ll make it to midnight, maybe we should crack open a bottle of champagne now and toast the New Year along with Chicago,” he suggested.

  “Sounds good to me,” she said.

  He retrieved a bottle of bubbly and a couple of glasses, popping the cork with an ease that attested to experience. And didn’t that immediately highlight the differences in their lifestyles, that he could make an offhand suggestion and know the fancy wine would be chilling? If she ever expressed a spontaneous desire for champagne, the spontaneity would invariably be lost as she made a hurried trip to buy it, with her fingers crossed that the local store sold it already chilled.

  He could have chosen to sit anywhere. There were plenty of options in the spacious room: the love seat adjacent to the couch she occupied, one of a trio of armchairs, or even the other end of the big sofa. For some reason, he chose to sit right beside her, so close that their thighs were touching.

  He handed her a flute of champagne, tapped the rim of his own glass to hers and said, “Happy Almost New Year.”

  “Happy Almost New Year,” she echoed, and took a tentative sip of the bubbly.

  The cool and crisp liquid tickled as it slid down her throat, causing an almost irresistible urge to giggle. She swallowed the urge along with another sip of champagne.

  “So how does this year compare to your last New Year’s Eve?” Wilder asked her.

  “It’s almost a carbon copy,” she admitted. “But with a much better bottle of wine.” And the unexpected company of a very handsome cowboy—though she wisely kept that part to herself.

  “You mean you sat at home watching other people celebrate the occasion?”

  “I wasn’t lying when I said parties aren’t really my thing.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve just never felt comfortable around a lot of people. I prefer more intimate gatherings.” Then, realizing how her words might be misconstrued, she hastened to clarify, “I didn’t mean intimate intimate. I only meant that I prefer smaller groups and quieter settings.”

  And then, to stop herself from babbling even more, she lifted her glass to her lips again.

  “Intimate should definitely involve a smaller number,” he agreed, with a wink. “My preference has always been two.”

  She couldn’t agree, because he might interpret that as flirting. And she couldn’t disagree, because if she suggested “or three or four,” he might think she was advertising an adventurous spirit she did not have.

  “Or one,” she said, deciding that was a safe option and also a truer reflection of her status.

  It wasn’t until his lips curved that she realized her mistake.

  “You like to go it alone sometimes, Beth?”

  She could really use a blast of Montana wind to cool her cheeks right now. In the absence of that, she sipped more of the chilled wine.

  “I’m going to stop talking now,” she decided.

  His warm chuckle skimmed over her like a caress. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said.

  “I think I embarrassed myself,” she acknowledged, and was grateful when Wilder steered the conversation to more neutral topics.

  They talked about books and movies and the successes or failures of books turned into movies. Then they debated the merits of favorite sports teams, with Wilder insisting that the Cowboys would win another Super Bowl before the Stars took another run at the Stanley Cup and Beth confiding that she’d rather watch the Rangers over the Mavericks any day of the week.

  He shook his head. “Clearly you know nothing about basketball.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “What’s your foundation for that claim? The fact that I prefer baseball?”

  “And that watching baseball is about as exciting as watching paint dry.”

  “Clearly you know nothing about baseball,” she told him.

  “What I do know is that it’s almost midnight and you’re still awake,” he noted, tipping the bottle to pour more champagne into her glass.

  “I’m as surprised as you are,” she said.

  “I’m glad I didn’t bore you to sleep.”

  “You didn’t bore me at all. In fact, I quite enjoyed your company tonight.”

  “Who would have guessed that we could spend an evening together without sniping at one another?” he mused.

  “We’ve spent a lot of time together over the past few days without sniping at each other,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, it turns out that you’re not quite as uptight as I originally thought.”

  “And I’ve been pleasantly surprised to discover that you’re not as immature and irresponsible as my first impressions led me to believe.”

  He smiled. “There it is.”

  Her brows drew together. “I think I missed something.”

  “Because you haven’t been paying attention,” he chided.

  “To what?”

  “You’ve got passion and spirit, Lisbeth Ames. But—one early-morning outburst aside—I usually only see it in defense of your sister or your nephew. I’m happy to know that you’re also capable of fighting back in defense of yourself.”

  “I thought we were trying not to fight.”

  “It turns out I enjoy our verbal sparring,” he admitted.

  “Given the choice, I’d rather be a lover than a fighter,” she said.

  Wilder’s brows lifted. “Is that so?”

  “I didn’t mean—” She huffed out a breath. “I always seem to be puttin
g my foot in my mouth around you.”

  “Let’s see if we can find a better use for your mouth,” Wilder suggested, as he set both of their champagne glasses aside.

  And then he kissed her.

  It wasn’t a deep or passionate kiss—more a tentative exploration. And yet, when his lips brushed over hers, a jolt of arousal surged through her body, leaving hot tingles in its wake.

  She lifted her eyes and saw that he was looking as shaken by the chemistry as she felt. Then his gaze shifted to her mouth, as if he maybe wanted to try that again.

  Because she wanted the same thing, she took the initiative this time and leaned forward to kiss him. And he responded. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her onto his lap so that her knees straddled his hips and her breasts tingled where they touched his chest, her nipples stiffening to tight peaks.

  She pressed herself closer, relishing the feel of his rock-hard body. She slid her hands over his taut, sculpted shoulders to link them behind his head, her fingertips tangling in the ends of his hair.

  He opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, exploring the sensitive inner recesses with his oh-so-talented tongue. She rocked against him, subconsciously mimicking the rhythm of mating, until he clamped his hands on her hips, stifling her moments.

  “I’m going to embarrass myself if you don’t stop that,” he warned.

  “I don’t want to stop,” she said. “But—”

  “Shh.” He brushed his lips gently over hers now. “Let’s not analyze all the reasons this might be a mistake.”

  Then he nuzzled her throat, and the erotic scrape of his stubble against her skin made her shiver.

  “But it would be, wouldn’t it? Getting naked together would further complicate an already complicated situation.”

  “Or maybe it would simplify it,” he suggested.

  “How do you figure?”

  “Sex is simple—the most primal and essential connection between a man and a woman,” he explained, as he slid his hands under her sweater and up her torso to cup her breasts.

  And the feel of those calloused palms moving over her skin was even more delicious than she’d imagined.

  She moaned softly.

  “I really like those noises you make when I touch you,” he told her.

  “Then keep touching me,” she suggested.

  “I don’t think I can stop.”

  He rose to his feet then, effortlessly lifting her with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles as he carried her toward the stairs.

  She felt like a fairy-tale princess in the arms of her Prince Charming.

  Except that Wilder wasn’t her anything and there was no happily-ever-after with him in her future.

  But would it be so wrong to enjoy this one magical night? A stolen moment in time before the realities of the world descended upon them once more?

  He carried her to the guest room, then set her on her feet beside the bed to whisk her sweater over her head and strip away her leggings.

  “You, too,” she said, unfastening the remaining buttons of his shirt to reveal a strong chest and rippling abs. Definitely as chiseled as I’d imagined. She touched her lips to his taut, warm skin, then flicked out her tongue. And every bit as delicious.

  While she explored his chest, he discarded the rest of his clothes, then eased her onto the mattress, bracing himself over her and capturing her mouth with his again.

  He seemed to know just where and how to touch her to heighten her desire, maximize her pleasure. Eager to reciprocate, she tentatively reached between their bodies to wrap her hand around his hard, velvety length. He pulsed in her hand; a groan rumbled in his chest. Emboldened by his response, she stroked her hand toward the tip, then back down again.

  He unclasped her bra, releasing her breasts from the restraint of the lacy cups. Her already peaked nipples drew tighter when the cool air whispered over her skin.

  He drew one of the aching tips into his mouth, tugging gently with his teeth, until she moaned and arched beneath him. His mouth moved to her other breast, affording it the same attention as his hands stroked over her body in a teasing exploration that made her quiver and yearn.

  He gently parted her thighs, opening her to a more intimate investigation. His fingertips skimmed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and traced the lacy edge of her panties, making her muscles tremble. Then his thumb brushed over the aching nub at her center, through the thin fabric barrier, making her whimper.

  His mouth moved lower, skimming over her torso, then he caught the narrow band of lace at her side in his teeth and dragged it down over her hip before switching to the other side. He continued to alternate from side to side, inching her panties downward until they were dangling around one ankle. Then he spread her legs wide and lowered his head between them.

  She felt the scrape of his stubble against the sensitive skin of her thighs, a surprisingly erotic sensation. When he touched her with his tongue, she gasped, shocked by the unexpected intimacy. And again, because the pleasure was more than she’d anticipated. More than she’d imagined.

  He nibbled and licked, tasting and teasing, driving her ever closer to the pinnacle of pleasure. Then holding her there, right on the edge, until she was desperate for release. She could hear herself whimpering, pleading.

  Stop. Please. More.

  She didn’t seem to know what she wanted, what she needed.

  But Wilder knew, and he gave it to her. More and more, until she couldn’t take it anymore. Until she was no longer on the edge, but falling, falling, falling...

  Her body was still quivering with the aftereffects of her climax when Wilder retrieved a condom from his wallet, then tore open the foil packet and covered himself. Only then did he position himself over her again, and finally bury himself between her thighs.

  She wrapped herself around him, her hands gripping his shoulders, her legs anchored around his torso, pulling him even deeper inside. He began to move, and she met him thrust for thrust, urging him to find the same release he’d given her.

  As their bodies merged and mated, she found her own desire escalating again. He picked up the pace, driving faster, harder, deeper. Pushing her to new and even loftier heights. But this time, when she took the plunge, he went with her.

  * * *

  Wilder was jolted awake—and jarred out of a tantalizingly explicit and erotic dream—by the sound of a baby crying. It took him a moment to get his bearings, for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and recognize that he was in the guest room, where he’d fallen asleep after making love with Beth.

  He closed his eyes again and swore quietly as the memories washed over him.

  It never should have happened.

  But it had happened—and it had been amazing.

  He’d always preferred the company of women who were looking for short-term companionship rather than long-term commitment. Beth was all about hearth and home right down to the marrow of her bones. She was the type of woman a man would choose to marry, and Wilder had no intention of being that man—for any woman.

  But, as usual last night, he’d been thinking about his own desires, selfishly taking what he wanted with little regard for the consequences.

  And now...

  A soft murmur joined the sound of the baby’s cries. He realized the sounds were coming through the baby monitor on the table beside the bed and that Beth was already up and tending to Cody.

  Cody.

  He swore again as a fresh wave of guilt washed over him.

  Barely a week earlier, he’d been reflecting on how great his life was, how lucky he was that he wasn’t tied down in any kind of relationship, and how he had no interest in being saddled with a kid at this point in his life.

  Because a week earlier, he hadn’t known of Cody’s existence. Now that he did, his intentions and interests were i
rrelevant. The fact was, if Cody was his child, he was going to step up and be the best father that he could be to him.

  But it didn’t really matter whether or not the kid was his. He should never have seduced his aunt. Because the intimacies they’d shared added a whole other layer of complications to an already complicated situation. Which, now that he thought about it, was almost exactly what she’d warned him about the night before.

  Asserting his parental rights and applying for legal custody would deal a devastating blow to Beth, who’d been helping to care for her nephew since his birth.

  But there was no way Wilder could let the child go. He wouldn’t ever abandon his son, as his mother had abandoned hers. He wouldn’t let anything matter more than his child.

  But wasn’t that exactly what he’d done last night?

  Selfishly, and not surprisingly, he’d been thinking only about himself. About what he wanted. And last night, he’d wanted Beth.

  Maybe the realization had surprised him a little.

  Being intimate with Beth had surprised him even more.

  Despite her rigid expectations and uptight manner, she was a surprisingly passionate and gloriously uninhibited woman. And if he was the type of man who did relationships, he might be willing to take a chance with her. But he wasn’t, and he couldn’t.

  Because everything else aside, he had a history with her sister. And yes, that was probably something he should have thought about last night before he’d removed Beth’s lace panties with his teeth. It didn’t matter that Leighton had made it clear she was done with him. He doubted she’d be pleased to discover that he’d picked up with her sister.

  But had he picked up with her sister?

  Or had last night been the beginning and end?

  Frustrated that all he had were questions without answers, he pushed back the covers and gathered his discarded clothes. He dressed quickly in the dark, intending to go across the hall to help with the baby.

  But he paused in the hallway, watching Beth, silhouetted by the dim light, as she tended to the baby. She continued to murmur softly, soothing the child as she dealt with the wet diaper that was likely the cause of his distress. After she’d finished with that task, she’d go downstairs to prepare a bottle to fill his tummy so that he might sleep comfortably for a few more hours.