Christmas in His Bed

by Sasha Summers

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

  He nodded, not looking at her, and put the truck in gear. They set off, navigating their way out of the airport and onto the highway. The silence grew unbearable.

  “How are the wedding preparations going?” she asked.

  He shrugged.

  “When did you fly out?” she tried again.

  “This morning,” he answered. “With Patton. We had a funeral to go to.”

  She looked at him, surprised. “I’m so sorry, Spencer. Was it someone you were close to?”

  “We worked together.” His answer was curt.

  “Was it on the job?”

  He shook his head. “No. Car accident.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” She wanted to touch him then, to offer some sort of comfort.

  He looked at her, eyes blazing. “How was California?”

  She swallowed. “It was wonderful.”

  His jaw ticked. “Have a good time?”

  “A great time.” She had. When she wasn’t missing him. “I met some nice people. Gretchen has a brother who’s a fireman, so he and some friends took us out one night. They were pretty hilarious.” All of which was true. Gretchen’s brother was a happily married father of two, but Spencer didn’t need to know that.

  “A fireman?” he repeated.

  She nodded, wondering what he was thinking. “I tried a few new things too.”

  “Like?” he barked.

  “Oh... Have you ever had Thai food?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “It’s hot,” she said, laughing. “My eyes were watering and my tongue felt paralyzed. Even the next morning.”

  “What else?” he asked.

  “Tequila shots,” she said. “They’re yummy. But they make me a little crazy.”

  He looked at her then. “Crazy?”

  “Zip lining.” She waved her hand at him. “I had fun.”

  “Good.” But his tone implied he wasn’t pleased.

  “Are there any plans for tonight? I’d love a nap. Maybe even a soak in a hot tub,” she added, enjoying his reactions far more than she’d expected.

  “Rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, that’s it,” he ground out.

  “No bachelor party?” She paused. “Or bachelorette party?”

  He shook his head as they pulled into the hotel driveway. She waited for the valet to open the door and climbed out, offering a smile. Spencer was immediately at her side, his hand big and warm on her back, steering her inside before she’d had a chance to inspect her surroundings. Not that she cared. Right now the only thing she was aware of was Spencer. And if she didn’t put some space between them soon, she’d be throwing herself at him in no time.

  Not yet.

  “Key,” he said, offering her the card key.

  “Thank you.” She took it. “Guess I’ll go make myself presentable.”

  His eyes swept over her again.

  She left him standing there and headed for the elevators. But when she climbed onto the elevator, he followed, pulling his suitcase behind him.

  * * *

  TATUM WAS IN serious danger. If the old man left them alone in the elevator, Spencer could not be held accountable for his actions. He’d never been this close to losing control. But seeing her in her skintight getup, knowing what she had on underneath, had his dick at attention and his brain malfunctioning.

  When they arrived on floor seven, he brushed past her, eager to get to his room and take a cold shower. But she followed him down the hall until he reached his room. She went around him, to the door next to his.

  “Looks like we’re neighbors,” she said, smiling his way.

  He nodded stiffly, trying not to think about the fact that she’d be so close. His hands fumbled with his card key, dropping it.

  She disappeared into her room.

  “Dammit,” he growled, picking up his key and resting his forehead on the hotel room door. She’d gone off to California and hung out with firemen? She’d tried new things? And come home wearing what she was wearing. He adjusted himself, his erection pressing against his already fitted pants.

  He tried his key. It didn’t work. He tried again. Still nothing. He punched the wall. “Dammit,” he bit out.

  He stared at her door.

  He could go downstairs and have them fix it. Or he could call from her room...

  He knocked on her door.

  “Who is it?” she asked through the door.

  “Spencer,” he answered. He took a deep breath. Stop being an asshole. Stop snapping and growling at everyone.

  She opened the door. “What’s up?”

  “My key doesn’t work.” She was so beautiful, so soft. His hand itched to touch her, to stroke her cheek and slide through the length of her silky hair. “Can I call the front desk?”

  “Sure,” she said, stepping back.

  He heard the sound of running water. A passing glance saw bubbles piling up in her bath. “Sorry,” he murmured.

  “About what?” she asked.

  “Interrupting.” His mind was assaulted with images of her naked. Her body flushed and wet... He swallowed, running a hand over his face.

  She twisted her hair up, clipping it in place on the back of her head. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, her hands fiddling with the tie of her sweater. “You seem so...tense.”

  “I’m fine.” He didn’t sound fine. He sounded like he was going to explode. Probably because he was going to explode.

  “You want to talk about it?” she asked. “It’s what friends do. Talk.”

  His heart twisted. “So we can be friends?”

  She shrugged. “I’d like to try. I’ve never seen you like this and I want to be here for you if I can. If you want me?”

  He closed his eyes. “If I want you?” he muttered. “That’s the problem, Tatum. That’s the whole damn problem.” He sounded harsh to his own ears.

  “What?” she asked, startled.

  “I want you.” He moved forward. “I can’t stop.” His hands clasped her shoulders, pulling her against him. “So, no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Then what do you want?” she whispered.

  “You.” He bent, nuzzling her neck. “Dammit.” She smelled like heaven. “Now.”

  She drew in an unsteady breath as his lips latched on to her neck. His hands slid through her hair, tugging her head back so he could taste her. His tongue slid between her lips, tearing a moan from her and racking him with a shudder.

  He deepened the kiss, cradling the back of her head to explore the recesses of her mouth and leave them both reeling.

  Her hands twined in his hair, shattering whatever remained of his self-control. He gripped her hips, lifting her up as he drove her back against the wall. He dropped to his knees, sliding the tie of her sweater free and pulling it down to her wrists—pinning them at her sides. With mounting impatience, he tugged her skirt until it was around her hips. He paused long enough to take in the view.

  “You’re so damn beautiful,” he ground out, running his fingers across the plane of her stomach. She was gasping, her eyes pressed closed, her hands tightly fisted at her sides. He ran one finger along the garter, pressed a kiss at the edge of her filmy panties and gripped her ankle. He worked his way up her silk-clad calf, nuzzling the soft skin behind her knee until she was shuddering. He pressed her back, keeping her in place, while forcing her legs apart. His lips skimmed her heated flesh as his hand slid up the back of her leg. He lifted her leg, staring up at the raw need on her face. She needed release...and he would give it to her. When his hand cupped the curve of her ass, he nipped the velvet soft skin of her inner thigh.

  “Spencer.” Her voice broke, urgent.

  He hooked
her thigh over his shoulder. One hand gripped the soft curve of her ass, the other braced himself—holding her wrist against the wall.

  Her panties were barely there, the frothy G-string hiding nothing. He nudged it aside with his nose and bent to his work. Her scent, the taste of her, overwhelmed his senses. She was ready, her skin contracting at the first stroke of his tongue. He kneaded the swell of her buttock, parting her for the slide of his fingers. He was relentless, his fingers deep, his lips and tongue working the tight nub at her core. On and on, he pushed her until she cried out, her hands slamming against the wall and her hips arched forward.

  She slumped against the wall, spent and gasping.

  He pushed off the wall, his breath powering from his lungs and blood on fire. His need for her was almost painful. But there was more. He knew he had no right to ask her to love him. But, right now, he had no choice. He loved her, he’d always loved her. It wasn’t about wanting her body—it was about wanting her. He sucked in a deep breath, his heart pounding in his ears. “Tatum,” he groaned. “I’m sorry. I... Damn, I...I hadn’t planned on this happening.”

  The ragged sound of her breathing stopped. In that instant she went from soft and spent to wary. “No, don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”

  He stared down at her, cupping her cheek. She still wanted him. That was something. “I missed you, Tatum.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “I had a lot of time to think while I was gone.” She frowned. “You’re right—we need to talk, I have a lot I want to say, but maybe now’s not the right time.” She shrugged away from him, her cheeks red.

  “Why?” he argued, reaching for her. He needed to touch her, to feel her, to know she was there. “Maybe there’s no such thing as the right time. But there is right now.” Panic pressed in on him. He knew what she was going to say. She was going to San Diego, she was going to leave him. Better to rip the damn Band-Aid off now. “Just say it.”

  “You have a hard-on. My skirt is around my waist.” She sounded defeated as she pushed the clinging fabric back into place. “If we are going to talk, I need to know your words aren’t coming from here.” She grabbed his erection, making him jolt. “I’d like to know that your words are coming from here.” She pressed her hand to his heart, then his head.

  “Tatum, say it,” he all but growled.

  She looked so...nervous that his heart stopped. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you, Spencer.”

  Her phone was ringing. When it had started, he didn’t know. And, at the moment, he didn’t care. But the ringing sent Tatum into a tailspin, smoothing her tangled hair into place and holding her sweater closed.

  He frowned, reaching for her, trying to process what he’d heard. She loved him? She loved him, and he was staring at her like an idiot.

  She answered her phone. “Hey, Lucy.”

  He wasn’t prepared for the anxious look in her eyes. Or the uncertainty on her face. “He’s here,” she said. “His key doesn’t work.” She paused. “I’ll send him down.”

  Did she seriously doubt how he felt? Because he’d be happy to fix that—now.

  He waited as she hung up the phone.

  “Your mother needs you now,” she said, brushing past him into her bathroom. “Don’t forget to have your key fixed.”

  “Tatum—”

  “Tonight is about Patton and Cady,” she murmured.

  “You can’t seriously expect me to leave now?” he asked, putting his hand on the bathroom door. And ignoring the persistent ring of his phone.

  She grinned. “I’d like to stay on your family’s good side. And my bath is getting cold.”

  She shut the bathroom door in his face. He stood there, staring at the door. He pressed a hand against the door. “I can wash your back,” he offered.

  “Go, Spencer,” she called back, laughing. “We can talk after. When I’m dressed and you’re thinking straight.”

  He was reeling. She loved him. The ache that filled his chest didn’t compare with the ache of his body. He wanted Tatum, there was no denying that—to the point of addiction. But he loved her beyond that.

  He knew his life was risky. But life was risky. He’d rather face any adversity with her at his side than without her.

  And he wanted her to know that—wanted everyone to know that.

  His phone rang, making him cuss under his breath. He glanced at the screen before tucking it into his pocket. Once the wedding was over, he’d make sure Tatum knew exactly how he felt. And how damn good their future was going to be—together.

  16

  TATUM WATCHED CADY and Patton move around the dance floor. It had been a gorgeous wedding. And, considering how firmly Patton insisted he wasn’t a fan of weddings, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Or maybe he was just happy to be married.

  “You look gorgeous,” Lucy said, sitting beside her.

  “So do you.” It was true. The Ryans were a good-looking family.

  “Dean’s been checking you out,” Celeste added.

  “Dean’s checking all the single ladies out,” Tatum argued.

  “Anyway, Spencer wins. He’s almost walked into a wall twice. I’d say you two might finally be making progress?” Lucy asked.

  Finally. He loved her—even if he hadn’t said as much yet. She glanced at the dance floor. Spencer was dancing with his mother. He was laughing, his head thrown back—looking so gorgeous her heart hurt. They made their way to the front of the room, to join Cady and Patton.

  “Looks like speech time,” Celeste said, reaching for her champagne.

  Cady went first. She was sassy and funny, making everyone laugh. But when she hugged her new husband, the tenderness on her face said it all.

  “Cady showed me what it meant to live. Now all I want is to live every day with her.” Patton’s speech was short, but—from him—was truly touching.

  Then Spencer took the microphone. “If my father were here, he’d say this toast. But, as he’s not, I will. May you live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live. May the blessings of each day be the blessings you need most. May you have warm words on a cold evening, a full moon on a dark night. And the road downhill all the way to your door.” Spencer paused. “My brothers are amazing men. Good sons, good husbands. They work hard, keep their word, are unwaveringly loyal, and when they fall in love—it’s forever.” He paused, his gaze finding and holding hers. He waited until everyone in the room knew he was looking at her before he continued, “I’d like to think I’ve learned from the best. Patton, Cady, congratulations.”

  Tatum stared at him, stunned. Her heart was tripping over itself.

  When they fall in love—it’s forever.

  “Want to dance?” Dean asked, holding his hand out to her.

  She was still processing Spencer’s words as he led her onto the dance floor. He spun her into him, winking at her. She laughed, squealing when he dipped her.

  “Is it a prerequisite for the Ryans to dance?” she asked, breathless when he spun her around.

  “Yes. Aunt Imogene had a friend that owned a dance academy. She made us all take lessons, out of solidarity.” Dean shook his head. “You look gorgeous.”

  “You don’t look too bad yourself,” she said, trying to keep up with him. While covertly searching for Spencer.

  “He’s behind you,” Dean said.

  Her heart stopped. “He is?”

  “He’s headed this way,” Dean said, nodding. “Looks pretty pissed off to me.”

  “He does?”

  “Not that he deserves you,” Dean continued.

  She smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re a good guy, Dean.”

  He looked down at her. “Let’s keep that our secret.”

  “Cutting in,” Spencer sai
d sharply.

  She stared at him. “Is that a request?”

  Spencer sighed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Yes. It is. May I cut in?”

  “Watch it,” Dean said. “She’s all handsy.”

  She giggled, a mix of nerves—and hope.

  Dean left, leaving them alone on the dance floor.

  “Did you hear my speech?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “What did you think?”

  She brushed the hair from his forehead. “You love me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I admit that makes me happy. Happier than I’ve ever been.” She swallowed.

  “I love you.” He stopped dancing, cradling her face in his hands. “Always.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, feeling light and oh so blissful. She couldn’t stop smiling.

  He rested his forehead against hers. “Are you going to California? If you are, I need to get my résumé in order.”

  She laughed. “You’d go?”

  He nodded, his expression stern. “I go where you go. I want what you want.”

  “You do?” Her fingers brushed through the hair at the nape of his neck. “And if all I want is you? And for you to love me.”

  “Done.”

  “No moving. Cady’s already convinced half of Greyson I should handle their books.”

  “This is what you want?” His voice was low.

  “As long as we have each other.” She paused, the emotions she’d been fighting for so long clogging her throat. “I have exactly what I want.”

  He pulled her closer, swaying to the music. “I didn’t know how much I’d missed you until you waved that poker at me on the front porch.”

  “I didn’t wave it at you,” she argued, laughing.

  “Nothing has ever scared me like thinking I’d lost you again.”

  She stared up at him. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.” He kissed her lips. “And you love me?”

  “I love you,” she said between kisses.

  “Now, let’s talk about that rain check.” He ran his thumb along her lower lip.