by Misty Evans
Chapter Fourteen
The night was dark but, for the first time in a week, Emma could see stars in the sky as she stared out her bedroom window. A strong wind was blowing down from the north, clearing the air. The last weather report Mitch had gleaned before the satellite lost transmission claimed rain was on the way.
Rain on Christmas. A miracle for sure this year.
The clock across the hall ticked softly, nearing midnight. Mitch lay spooned around her body, his soft snores resonating from his chest into her back. Warm, reassuring.
Comforting.
Her baby had died shortly after midnight on Christmas morning. The pain, so fresh last year, now only ached dully in her chest. She’d miscarried so early, she’d never known the sex of the child, but in her heart, she’d known it was a girl.
As she lay in bed with Mitch’s arm around her, she looked out at the stars shining over the ranch and focused on one that appeared to twinkle inside the Andromeda Galaxy. Many nights, she’d dragged herself from bed in order to look through her telescope at the Blue Snowball Nebula inside the Andromeda constellation and talk to her daughter. It made no logical sense to associate a star in the heavens with a soul, yet Emma—like many other people in history—found solace in doing so.
Tonight, however, she was content to stay in Mitch’s arms and watch Blue Snowball from bed. The smell of cinnamon drifted through the house from the pie still downstairs on the counter. The normal soft creaks of the house settling in the night air comforted her, much like Mitch’s gentle snores. Every once in a while, she heard the dogs shift in their sleep right outside the bedroom door.
Merry Christmas, Skye. Emma had never told anyone—not even Roland—that she had named the baby. When they’d found out they were pregnant, she’d had a list of possibilities, of course. Allison, Michelle, Kathleen. After the miscarriage, none of them seemed…right. None of them fit.
One night after she’d bought the ranch and was making room in the attic for some of her boxes, she’d come across the old telescope. She knew nothing about telescopes or astronomy, but cleaned off the lenses anyway and soon became an amateur astronomer.
One night, looking at the sky and reading through a book on the Andromeda Galaxy she’d bought off the Internet, it came to her. Skye. The perfect name for her daughter.
Mitch’s breathing grew lighter; he stretched, running a hand down her hip, his lips finding her neck. “You awake?”
They’d made love three times in a couple of hours. His erection pressing into the crease between her legs told her he was ready again.
She’d never felt so wanton in her life. The spot between her legs ached. At the same time, she was wet for him.
He did that to her. Everything about him, from his messy hair to his eyes, to his strong, muscular body, turned her on. She liked his snarky attitude, the way he teased her and didn’t seem to feel the least threatened by the degrees and certificates on her office wall. He was the exact opposite of the men who usually tripped her sexiness meter. “Hard to sleep through your snoring,” she teased.
Truth was, she hadn’t shared a bed with anyone since Roland. She’d grown used to being alone, sleeping alone. It surprised her that Mitch’s presence in her house, in her bed, felt so right.
He leaned up on an elbow and followed her gaze to the window. “I don’t snore.”
“Haha,” she said, noticing how his hand had made its way to her lower belly. “And I don’t eat M&Ms when I’m stressed.”
He nuzzled her behind her ear. “I hate to bring this up and ruin the moment, but…”
Oh, crud. Here it came. “You’re married, aren’t you?”
His fingers trailed over her ribs up to her breast where he cupped it. “You wish. That would make it easy, wouldn’t it? For you to kick me out of this bed.”
Sarcasm. His go-to when things might get serious. It did, however, ease her mind a tad. “Let me guess. You have a librarian fetish.”
“Wow, you are good. How’d you guess?”
“Earlier you promised to take me on my desk while I wear my reading glasses.”
“Ah.” His hand moved to her other breast as he nibbled her ear. “Pretty textbook, huh?”
“Classic. But just so you know, I’m happy to enable that fantasy.”
He laughed softly in her ear, tweaked her nipple. His erection bobbed against her. “Damn, woman. You make me crazy. And distracted.”
“You were about to admit some deep, dark secret, I believe.”
He stopped nibbling, sighed. “I’m sorry, but I totally blew it.”
“Blew what?”
“I didn’t wear a condom. I totally… Well, you made me so freakin’ nuts, I didn’t even think about it. I screwed up.”
A fissure of worry flared to life in her belly. “You have an STD?”
“What?” He leaned up on an elbow and looked down at her. “No. But I possibly just got you pregnant. I’m such an idiot. I used to keep a condom on me at all times, but in the past year or so… Sex wasn’t doing it for me, you know? I had no interest in hookups. Just zilch.”
Pregnant. If only…
“I’m clean, too.” Emma batted back the pressure behind her eyeballs. “Don’t worry.”
“But what if I just—”
Emma put a finger to his lips. “You didn’t. Trust me.”
His brows furrowed. “You’re on the Pill, then?”
She shook her head, blinked back the tears that suddenly threatened to spill. “I can’t have kids. Not after the mis…” She had to stop and take a breath. “Not after I lost Skye.”
Everything in his face went flat. His erection no longer poked at her. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t know.”
She looked away, slanting her blurry attention to the stars outside again. “Of course, you didn’t. Don’t be silly.”
His fingers worked their way softly into her hair, massaging her scalp. He kissed her cheek, gave her a gentle hug. “Skye, huh? That was her name?”
Emma nodded, causing a hot tear to leak down her cheek. “No one knows that. Her name, I mean. You’re the first person I’ve ever told.”
She saw his mouth twitch at the realization that he was the only person she’d told her most intimate secret to. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered, lying back down and pulling her close. “Just like you.”
The office clock struck midnight and Emma let another tear roll down her face into the pillow. Wrapped in Mitch’s arms, she gave herself permission to cry, to mourn yet another night, another Christmas, without her daughter and the life she’d imagined she’d be living at this moment.
But no more tears came. Instead, she felt calm, soothed by the presence of the man holding her. He wasn’t afraid of tears. Wasn’t afraid she would lose her shit talking about her daughter. Her secret, her damaged psyche, as well as her physical body, were all more than safe with him.
“Do you want kids?” she heard herself saying after a few minutes.
And, whoops, that sounded like too much of a leading question. He was going to pull back now, assuming she was asking because she wanted a relationship, and…
“Never really thought about it,” he said, still holding her close. His breath was warm on her ear. “I guess I needed the right woman in my life—for marriage, kids, all that normal stuff—and the right one never came along. Then, after Mac died, I was so fuckin’ screwed up, it didn’t seem like having a family would be a good thing. Like you said earlier, I’d probably end up taking my PTSD out on my family. Hell, I’m already doing that. I can’t even talk to my mother.”
It pained her, his words. Pained her that she had no easy way to fix him.
Her next words seemed to tumble off her tongue. “I thought I had the right man for all that, but apparently I didn’t. He’s the only other man I’ve ever slept with, by the way. My ex. Him and you—you’re it.”
“Are you kidding me?” Mitch rose up again, a weird grin on his face as he peered down at her. “You wer
e a virgin when you married?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Roland and I started dating in college. Until then, I was a bookish nerd and made a complete idiot out of myself when a boy so much as looked at me. My freshman year of college, my roommate gave me the clichéd geek to chic makeover.” She laughed as she pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Roland and I hooked up, and the rest is history.”
Mitch was still grinning. “So?”
“So what?”
“How do I compare? Against Roland the Douchebag?”
“Are you serious right now? You want me to grade your performance versus my ex-husband?”
“Damn straight, woman. You’re practically a virgin. I wish I’d known beforehand so I could have really shown you my best moves earlier, but hell. Tell me the truth. I rock compared to that bastard, don’t I?”
He did indeed. With Roland, she’d never been allowed to let herself go, ask for what she wanted. She’d sworn she’d never make that mistake again, and with Mitch, she’d felt totally unencumbered. Where Roland had always wanted to please himself, Mitch seemed more concerned with pleasing her. “I believe the dozen or so orgasms I experienced over the three hours of our love-making match speak for themselves.”
“Sweet Christmas.” He slapped the bed and whooped, his happiness echoing off the ceiling. “I knew it. Roland is a stupid name, by the way, and he’s an ass for leaving you. But lucky for me, he did. If you were still with that douchebag, I’d have to steal you away from him.”
The thought made her smile. He was always so flippant, she couldn’t be sure he was telling the truth. “How would you do that? Work those seductive charms of yours, aka snarkiness and irascibility, to woo me over?”
“I’ve never gone after a married woman before, but if it was you, I’d have to. You’re irresistible. I have to have you.”
His erection, now warm and hard against her leg again, confirmed that.
The heat started low in her belly, moved up her chest, her neck. “That may be the nicest compliment anyone’s ever paid me.”
“Good. You deserve it.”
“Merry Christmas,” she said. “Is there anything Santa forgot to bring you this year?”
Catching onto her game, he grinned. “I’m still waiting for you to fulfill my sexy, naked librarian fantasy. And I didn’t get any pie.”
“Pie first. Then I’ll fulfill any fantasy you want.”
He kissed her quick and hard. “Merry fucking Christmas to me. Let’s get that pie.”
He chased her down the stairs, both of them naked, the dogs barking at their heels with glee. Mitch came up behind Emma while she was cutting the pie, his hands running over her hips, down her thighs, around to the inside and back up. She arched back into him, forgetting about the pie as he kissed her neck, massaged her breasts.
When he gently bent her forward, she gripped the edges of the counter and he entered her from behind. She was sore and tight as hell, but it felt good, so damn good, to have him inside her. Holding on tightly to the counter as he stroked her sensitive nub with a thumb, she felt brazen and erotic. He kissed his way down her neck and the vertebra of her back, sending chills over her skin.
A moment later, she cried out her release and felt him tense with his own.
Sagging in his arms, she let him carry her to the half-bath off the mudroom and clean her up. They reheated cups of cold coffee and took the whole pie upstairs to eat in bed.
For the next hour, Mitch fed her apples baked to perfection with just the right amount of cinnamon. He shared a couple of memories of his childhood with his brother Mac, making Emma laugh more than she had in years. While she listened to his stories, she couldn’t help but think about her childhood—completely unremarkable compared to his—and realized how much they didn’t have in common. They were from two different worlds, then and now, and yet they fit together perfectly.
Emma groaned as she waved off another bite of pie. “I’m stuffed.” She sipped at her coffee, cold once more. “But I think that was best apple pie I made this year.”
“You made it?”
“From the apples in the orchard. The horses love them, and they make a decent pie.”
Mitch leaned across the pie plate between them on the bed and kissed her. “I should marry you just for your cooking skills.”
Marry. The word hung in the air between them for an awkward moment, then Emma shook it off. “You haven’t even seen my porno librarian act yet. You shouldn’t commit to anything until you make sure I pass that test.”
He purposely ogled her breasts. “True. That could make or break it.”
Emma plucked the fork from his hand, dropping it into the empty pie plate and moving the plate aside. “Guess I better get my reading glasses and get to work.”
“Will you put your hair up in a bun too?”
She slunk off the bed, giving him a lascivious look as she headed for the bathroom. “You’ll have to come to my office if you want your book stamped.”
Behind the bathroom door, she blew out a low breath, touched her belly where butterflies churned.
You’re irresistible. I have to have you.
The words tumbled over and over in her brain. He thought she was beautiful. He’d been so out of his mind with lust for her, he’d totally forgotten to wear a condom.
He’d just teasingly mentioned marriage.
After Roland, she had sworn off marriage. It had been a moot point. Yet, she’d fallen for Mitch—there was no denying it—in three short days.
Three days!
Marriage wasn’t even part of the equation. Were either of them even ready for a relationship? Could it work?
Sweet Christmas is right, I’m foolish for even considering it. Sex—no matter how amazing it was—was not a foundation for a long-term relationship.
We’re all wrong for each other.
But sometimes, all wrong felt incredibly right.
Mitch leaned against the doorframe, buck naked, as he spoke through the closed door of Emma’s office. “Now?”
“Not yet,” she said and he heard laughter in her voice. “You’re so impatient.”
His cock was stiff and ramrod straight, bobbing at the sound of her voice, so sure of herself. She’d expressly denied him access until she was ready. He imagined her pulling her hair up into a bun, setting the glasses on her nose, clearing the top of her desk…
He rested his head against the door. “You’re killing me out here, Emma.”
Her voice came back, closer to the door. “I know.”
Damn woman. “I need to get inside you. Like, now.”
He could almost see her licking her lips, biting that full bottom one. “Good things come to those who wait.”
She sounded like she was right on the other side of the door. Taunting him. “That’s bullshit and you know it. Good things come to those who take them.”
She laughed and he heard the sound of the floor creaking as she moved away from the door. “Then you better come take what you want.”
Finally. Mitch threw the door open and…
Holy hell. He had to stop and gawk.
In the middle of the candlelit room, Emma sat like a pinup girl on the top of her desk, knees bent, breasts thrusting upward. She wore his shirt, buttoned up to her neck, but her bottom half sat bare-ass on the polished wood, a pair of black high heels on her feet, accentuating her sexy calves. Her reading glasses perched prettily on the end of her nose and she’d twisted her hair up in a messy bun.
She teased a pencil between her lips, a deep red lipstick leaving marks on the wood as she gave him a steely glare.
“Your book is overdue,” she said, licking the tip of the pencil as though about to write with it. “I’m going to have to fine you.”
The lips, the tongue, the way her gaze dipped to his full cock—it was all perfect. “I can’t wait to find out what that involves.”
Her knees parted, giving him a view of the sweetness between her legs. “I’m
afraid there’s a harsh penalty.”
Striding across the floor, he grinned at her. “Whatever it is, I’ll gladly pay it.”
The librarian glare morphed into a sexy pout. She spread her legs wider as she melted back onto her elbows, her tongue sneaking out to lick her lips as she stared at his blatant erection. “Show your librarian some respect.”
Grabbing her by the hips, he slid her ass to the edge of the desk. She yelped and he laughed, dropping to his knees and slinging her legs over his shoulders. He lowered his mouth to her, kissing, nibbling, sucking.
Every time he worked on her, she came fast. This time was no exception. With her hands in his hair and her back arching off the desk, she cried out his name and came with a rush in less than a minute.
Easing her down from the orgasm, he kissed his way up her body, unbuttoning the shirt and gently sucking on each of her breasts. His lips climbed to her collarbone, her neck.
“What’s your fantasy?” he murmured in her ear.
Her lips parted on a contented sigh. “Anything with you in it.”
His ego liked that. “Nothing specific? Maybe a cowboy taking you in the hay? Wait, I bet you’re into geeky academics. You probably have some professor fantasy.”
“No.” Her eyelids fluttered open. She stroked his shoulder. “I don’t really have any fantasies.”
Seriously? “Everyone has sexual fantasies.”
Her eyes were serious, a couple of tiny lines forming between her eyebrows. “I guess I’ve never met anyone who inspired them.”
He traced a finger along her jaw, then removed her glasses and set them aside. “Guess I better change that.”
A small smile curved her lips. “Good, because…”
“Because what?”
“I sort of like this role-playing thing.”
Yes! He ran a hand down between her legs. “You still haven’t stamped my book.”
She climbed out from under him and forced him onto his back. His erection stood proud as he lay under her perusal, shadows dancing across her face. Reaching out, she caught him with her hand, then climbed on top of the desk, straddling him.