He scowled at her as if she’d done something wrong. “See, that’s the real problem, kitten. I don’t want her. I want you.”
* * *
WEST CALLED HIMSELF a thousand kinds of fool. He’d planned to apologize, return to the sanctuary, witness his friend’s wedding and start the countdown with Monica. The moment he’d gotten Jessie Kay inside the closet, her pecans-and-cinnamon scent in his nose, those plans burned to ash. Only one thing mattered.
Getting his hands on her.
From day one, she’d been a vertical g-force too strong to deny, pulling, pulling, pulling him into a bottomless vortex. He’d fought it every minute of every day since meeting her, and he’d gotten nowhere fast. Why not give in? Stop the madness?
Just once...
“We’ve been dancing around this for months,” he said. “I’m scum for picking here and now to hash this out with you, and I’ll care tomorrow. Right now, I think it’s time we did something about our feelings.”
“I don’t...” She began to soften against him, only to snap to attention. “No. Absolutely not. I can’t.”
“You won’t.” But I can change your mind...
She nibbled on her bottom lip.
Something he would kill to do. So he did it. He leaned into her, caught her bottom lip between his teeth and ran the plump morsel through. “Do you want me, Jessie Kay?”
Her eyes closed for a moment, a shiver rocking her. “You say you’ll care tomorrow, so I’ll give you an answer then. As for today, I... I... I’m leaving.” But she made no effort to move away, and he knew. She did want him. As badly as he wanted her. “Yes. Leaving. Any moment now...”
Acting without thought—purely on instinct—he placed his hands on her waist and pressed her against the hard line of his body. “I want you to stay. I want you, period.”
“West.” The new tremor in her voice injected his every masculine instinct with adrenaline, jacking him up. “You said it yourself. You’re scum. This is wrong.”
Anticipation raced denial to the tip of his tongue, and won by a photo finish. “Do you care?” He caressed his way to her ass and cupped the perfect globes, then urged her forward to rub her against the long length of his erection. The woman who’d tormented his days and invaded his dreams moaned a decadent sound of satisfaction and it did something to him. Made his need for her worse.
She wasn’t what he should want, but somehow she’d become everything he could not resist, and he was tired, so damn tired, of walking, hell, running away from her.
“Do you?” he insisted. “Say yes, and I’ll be the one to leave. I don’t want you to regret this.” He wanted her desperate for more.
She looked away from him, licked her lips. “Right at this moment? No. I don’t care.” As soft as a whisper.
Triumph filled him, his clasp on her tightening.
“But tomorrow...” she added.
Yes. Tomorrow. He wasn’t the only one who’d been running from the sizzle between them, but today, with her admission ringing in his ears, he wasn’t letting her get away. One look at her, that’s all it had taken to ruin his plans. Now she would pay the price. Now she would make everything better.
“I will regret it,” she said. “This is a mistake I’ve made too many times in the past.”
Different emotions played over her features. Features so delicate he was consumed by the need to protect her from anything and anyone...but himself.
He saw misery, desire, fear, regret, hope and anger. The anger concerned him. This Southern belle could knock a man’s testicles into his throat with a single swipe of her knee. Even still, West didn’t walk away.
“For all we know, the world will end tomorrow. Let’s focus on today. You tell me what you want me to do,” he said, nuzzling his nose against her cheek, “and I’ll do it.”
More tremors rocked her. She traced her delicate hands up his tie and gave the knot a little shake, an action that was sexy, sweet and wicked all at once. “I want you...to go back to your date. You and I, we’ll be friends as agreed, and we’ll pretend this never happened.” She pushed him, but he didn’t budge.
His date. Yeah, he’d forgotten about Monica before Jessie Kay had mentioned her a few minutes ago. But then, he’d gotten used to forgetting everything whenever the luscious blonde entered a room. Everything about her consumed every part of him, and it was more than irritating, it was a sickness to be cured, an obstacle to be overcome and an addiction to be avoided. If they did this, he would suffer from his own regrets, but there was no question he would love the ride.
He bunched up the hem of her skirt, his fingers brushing the silken heat of her bare thigh. Her breath hitched, driving him wild. “You’ve told me what you think you should want me to do.” He rasped the words against her mouth, hovering over her, not touching her but teasing with what could be. “Now tell me what you really want me to do.”
Navy blues peered up at him, beseeching; the fight drained out of her, leaving only need and raw vulnerability. “I’m only using you for sex—said no guy ever. But that’s what you’re going to do. Isn’t it? You’re going to use me and lose me, just like the others.”
Her features were utterly ravaged, and in that moment, he hated himself. Because she was right. Whether he took her for a single night or every night for two months, the end result would be the same. No matter how much it hurt her—no matter how much it hurt him—he would walk away.
Don’t miss a single story in
THE ORIGINAL HEARTBREAKERS series:
“THE ONE YOU WANT” (novella)
THE CLOSER YOU COME
THE HOTTER YOU BURN
THE HARDER YOU FALL
Available now from Gena Showalter
and HQN Books!
Copyright © 2015 by Gena Showalter
ISBN-13: 9781460386217
A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe
Copyright © 2015 by Vicki Lewis Thompson
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe Page 20