Maybe This Christmas

by Sarah Morgan

  After stripping off her clothes, she ran herself a deep bath and sank into the water.

  She thought about the underwear lying on the bed.

  It wouldn’t hurt to try it on, would it? Then she could at least thank Élise and Kayla, tell them it was a lovely thought but that it hadn’t fitted.

  Leaving the comfort of the deep bubble bath, she wrapped herself in a towel and walked into the bedroom. The only light in the room came from the lamp next to the bed, and she dropped the towel and reached for the underwear. It felt soft and flimsy in her fingers, a whisper of wicked temptation.

  Pulling it on, she turned to look at herself in the mirror. She’d never worn anything so light and delicate. It was like wearing nothing, and the tulle bra fitted her small frame perfectly.

  She had a feeling Coco Chanel would have approved.

  Piling the heavy mass of her hair on top of her head, she pouted and struck a pose and then shook her head.

  She looked ridiculous.

  If she walked into Tyler’s room looking like this, he’d laugh. She could imagine his expression.

  And then the door to her bedroom opened, and she didn’t have to imagine his expression because he was standing in the doorway looking as if he’d been caught in the path of an avalanche. And there was no sign of laughter.

  “Holy—”

  “Tyler! What are you doing here? Get out!” She dropped her arms and tried to cover herself, then snatched the damp towel from the floor but it caught in her foot and she crashed down onto polished wood in a tangle of long limbs and black transparent underwear.

  Dignity shredded, she lay sprawled at his feet thinking that when Coco Chanel had referred to a date with destiny, she hadn’t anticipated that it would look anything like this. She felt as if she’d let the whole of womankind down.

  Sorry, Coco.

  She heard Tyler inhale and assumed it was because he’d never witnessed anything more clumsy or less provocative in his life.

  “Are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not all right! You’re supposed to at least knock or something. Oh, my God, Tyler, just—go!” She felt the burn in her cheeks, and anger mingled with frustration, all aimed at herself. Élise or Christy would have given him a feline smile and beckoned him into the room. They wouldn’t have fallen over and yelled at him.

  “Are you hurt?” Instead of leaving, he hunkered down next to her so that those powerful shoulders were eye level.

  “Yes. No.” Her pride was hurt. Her confidence decimated. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to say— I wanted to—” His gaze dropped to the tulle bra. “Why are you wearing that? Where are you going?”

  She could hardly tell him she was about to march into his bedroom and make an indecent proposition. He’d laugh at her, and she couldn’t even blame him.

  “I was getting dressed.”

  “Why?” His eyes darkened, his mouth unsmiling. “Are you going out with Josh again?”

  “No!”

  “Then why are you walking around dressed like something out of a bad boy’s dream? Is that what you wear under your ski pants? If I’d known, I would have wiped out years ago.”

  And in that moment, hearing those words, she stopped feeling like a fraud and started to feel like a woman.

  She’d already told the truth. How could more of the same truth make things worse?

  “I was trying it on. Plucking up courage to walk into your room and proposition you.”

  His gaze lifted from the transparent bra, to her mouth, and then finally met her eyes.

  “Excuse me?” His voice was husky, those eyes a wicked blue under thick, dark lashes that sent his sex appeal rocketing off the scale.

  “I don’t agree with what you said last night.” She thought of Elizabeth’s words. “You wanted to put the clock back, to pretend it never happened, but we can’t do that. We can’t go back, Tyler, only forward. We’re both a little freaked out by what happened, but it happened so now we have a choice.” Her voice was firm. “And this is mine.”

  He was still, his breathing uneven.

  She waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.

  Color seeped into her cheeks, a slow simmer of humiliation. Had she read him wrong? Was he about to tell her he wasn’t interested? That last night had been the result of too much whiskey and honesty?

  Her fragile confidence evaporated in the heat of the silence.

  “All right, this is embarrassing.” She pushed her hair away from her face with a shaky hand. “You need to go, Tyler. Right now.”

  “Go?” He seemed to be struggling to speak. “You went to all that effort to gain my attention, and now you want me to walk away?”

  “Because you’re obviously not interested!”

  That statement was greeted by another lengthy silence. “Which part of what I’m doing makes you think I’m not interested?”

  “The fact that you’re not saying anything for a start.”

  “Honey, you’re sprawled in front of me wearing pretty much nothing but an anxious look,” he drawled. “I’m a man. We’re simple creatures. My brain shut down the moment I saw what you were wearing. It’s kind of hard for me to string a sentence together right now, so you need to be gentle with me.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand.

  Startled, she looked up at him. What she saw in his eyes made her stomach clench in a knot of savage sexual tension. His gaze burned hot, and there was nothing gentle about the expression on his face. He wasn’t looking at her as if she was a friend. In fact, she didn’t recognize this look at all. There was something in those brilliant blue eyes she’d never seen before, something that made her reach out her hand.

  He pulled her to her feet and hard against him. She felt the thick ridge of his erection pressed against her, and then he was kissing her, and it was hot and crazy and nothing like the night before when he’d been so tender with her, so careful. This time his kiss was greedy, demanding, deeply erotic and unrestrained. He cupped her face in his hands, eased his mouth away from hers as if it was the hardest thing he’d ever done. “I’m afraid of hurting you.” His voice was raw. “I’m so fucking afraid of hurting you.”

  “No. You won’t. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” The force of the excitement barreled into her, and she clutched at his shoulders, feeling the swell of male muscle through the fabric of his shirt. There was a vicious tightening low in her stomach, a rush of desire that turned her legs into useless objects, but it didn’t matter because he lifted her and carried her to the bed, and any last reservations were blown away by the chemistry between them. She felt the warmth of his hands on her bare thighs, the brush of denim against her skin, and then he was kissing her again—first her mouth, then her neck. He sat her on the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor in front of her. The light from the lamp spilled onto his hair, glossy and dark. There was a look in his eyes that made her catch her breath, and she lifted her hands to unhook the bra, but he caught her hands in his and dragged them down to her sides.

  “No way.” He pressed his mouth to the pulse at the base of her throat. She closed her eyes, felt the touch of his lips and tongue as he moved down her body, exploring. The flimsy, transparent bra offered no protection at all from his skilled assault, and as the tip of her breast was drawn into the wet heat of his mouth, teased by the relentless flick of his tongue, she gave a little moan, unable to hold it back, unable to hold anything back.

  “Tyler—” She tugged at his shoulder but he ignored her and moved lower, pushing her back on the bed with the flat of his hand. He pushed her legs apart, and she gave a gasp, squirming against the strength of his hands. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m moving forward, like you suggested.” He spread her thighs so that she lay in front of him exposed, vulnerable, the
delicate wisp of fabric more promise than protection.

  His fingers slid along the edge of the silk, and she raised her hips, squirming against the sheets, trying desperately to relieve the maddening ache building low in her pelvis. He touched her everywhere except where she needed to be touched, those long, clever fingers spinning excitement with every stroke, tormenting her until she couldn’t take a full breath, couldn’t bear the delicious agony of the excitement, couldn’t last another moment.

  She gasped his name, begged him, but he simply pushed her thighs wider with firm, determined hands, covered her with his mouth, and she ceased to be capable of coherent thought because she was swallowed up by sensation. The softness of silk, the slick probe of his tongue. She felt as if she were melting, coming apart, and then he peeled away the last of her protection, leaving her naked and at the mercy of his clever mouth and skilled fingers. She felt her body clamp down on his fingers and lifted her hips, but he withdrew gently and joined her on the bed.

  She was close, so close, and she couldn’t believe he’d stopped right then. It was cruel. It was—

  “Tyler— I want— I need—” She moaned as she felt the brush of his body against hers, and then he drove into her with a single, smooth thrust that made her gasp.

  “What do you need?” His voice was husky, his eyes so dark with passion, they were almost black, and he drove deeper still, so that for a moment they were joined so deeply, she couldn’t breathe or move. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

  She slid her hands down his back, stared into his eyes and fell deeper and deeper. “You already know.”

  And he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, giving her everything until all she could feel was masculine thickness, silk and intense heat. She clawed at his shoulders, dragged her fingers down his spine, closed her hands over his backside, but he kept up the same rhythm, driving into her again and again, deeper, harder, filling her until she felt her body begin to tighten and ripple around the power of his shaft.

  He muttered something under his breath, and she knew he was trying to hold back, but she had long since lost control and her body fluttered, pulsed, quivered and tightened around his, and he groaned deep in his throat, a primitive animal sound as each spasm dragged him past the limits of his own control. He thrust deep, every movement intensifying her excitement, prolonging the moment of ecstasy.

  Afterward she felt limp. Weak. There was sweat on his skin, and he dropped his forehead to hers, his breathing unsteady, their gazes locked.

  She slid her fingers into his hair. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry or I will knock you unconscious.”

  “I’m not sorry.” He murmured the words against her mouth, dragging his lips over hers, and then rolled onto his back, keeping her in his arms.

  “And if you wake up tomorrow regretting it, I don’t want to hear it.”

  “I may never wake up.” His eyes were closed. “I think you may have killed me, but I don’t want you to feel guilty about that. Just tell me one thing—where the hell did you buy that black, silky man trap?”

  She smiled and pressed her mouth to his shoulder. “You didn’t like it?”

  “I was going to ask if it came in other colors.” With a groan he dragged her hard against his body, and she curled around him.

  The words I love you hovered on the edge of her tongue but this time she held them back, not daring to do anything that might upset this new balance, this new shift in their relationship.

  Through the window she could see snow falling like confetti, and she smiled because the moment was perfect, and she wanted to hold on to it forever.

  “I can’t believe I’m in your bed.”

  “Technically this is your bed.”

  “Have you ever thought about doing this? Honestly?”

  “All the time.”

  She thought of the party they’d had in the summer to celebrate the opening of the Boathouse Café. “You hardly ever looked at me.”

  “I trained myself not to. I trained myself not to think of you that way. Our friendship was more important to me than a few nights of burning up the sheets.”

  That was what this was to him? A night of burning up the sheets?

  She felt a thud of disappointment and then reminded herself that for Tyler, this was a big step.

  He was here with her now. That was all that mattered.

  “There’s going to be powder tomorrow. Jess will have another snow day.” She felt him relax and knew she’d been right to change the subject.

  “We’ll ski—” he tightened his hold on her “—and this time you don’t have to climb out of the window.”

  “It was fun.”

  “It was.” He stared up at the ceiling. “Tell me something about you I don’t know.”

  “I never thought we’d end up here.”

  He turned to look at her. “No?”

  Janet’s words were embedded in her head. “Never thought you’d find me sexy.”

  “Seriously?” He gave a low laugh. “I always knew you’d be hot in bed.”

  “You did?”

  “Of course. You’re athletic, and you have a great body.”

  She glowed with pleasure. “What happens now?”

  He stroked his hand over her hair. “I guess we’re not going to need two bedrooms.”

  “I don’t want to upset Jess.”

  There was a gleam in his eyes. “Why do you think Jess has been spending every night with my mother?”

  Brenna blushed. “They’re not subtle, are they?”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  “Are you worried that our relationship has changed?”

  “Not anymore. I’ve decided this relationship is perfect.”

  “You have?”

  Smiling, he pulled her back into his arms. “Sure, because now as well as being friends, I can screw your brains out, which is a winning combination as far as I’m concerned.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  IT SNOWED HEAVILY overnight and, as Brenna had predicted, schools were closed again.

  “Snow day! Yay! This is awesome. I hope it snows every day until I’m eighteen.” Jess virtually danced around the house, and Ash and Luna bounded after her, caught up in the excitement. “Can we go into the forest and choose a Christmas tree, Dad?”

  Tyler, brain dead after a night of uninterrupted sex with Brenna, tried to rouse himself. “Yeah. I need coffee first, though.”

  Jess looked at him suspiciously. “You don’t drink coffee.”

  “Well, today I’m drinking it.” Wondering how he was going to manage to behave normally, he stuck his face in the fridge and kept it there as Brenna walked into the kitchen.

  They’d agreed that for now they’d continue to be discreet when Jess was around, so they kept their distance when she wasn’t staying with his mother.

  “Hi, Jess.” Brenna’s voice was smooth and warm and he closed his eyes, wondering if he should drop ice down his pants.

  “We’re going to choose a Christmas tree today. Finally!” Jess grabbed cereal and tipped it into her bowl, scattering half of it across the table. “And then we’re skiing. And maybe doing some Christmas shopping. Have you bought anything for Grandma yet, Dad?”

  Deciding that frostbite was going to add to his problems, not solve them, Tyler withdrew his head from the fridge. “Not yet. I haven’t bought anything for anyone.”

  Jess sighed. “Men.”

  “Excuse me.” Tyler thumped the milk down on the table. “Do not make sexist remarks.”

  “Then don’t behave in a stereotypical fashion!”

  Tyler was about to answer when Brenna sat down across from Jess. She was wearing a soft fleece, and her hair fell, glossy and dark to her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed, and she s
tole a look at him and gave a tiny smile that was just for him.

  If Jess hadn’t been sitting there, he would have abandoned all ideas of breakfast and used the kitchen table for another purpose.

  “Coffee?” He forced the word past lips that wanted to be doing something other than talking and saw her blush.

  “Yes, please.” Her voice was low and he looked at her mouth, remembering everything they’d done to each other. Remembering how she’d looked wearing nothing but sheer black and an uncertain smile.

  Crap.

  “Let’s get the Christmas tree.” His voice sounded strangled. “It’s a crisp, cold day.” Cold was what he needed. Was it possible to have hot thoughts in freezing weather?

  Turned out it was, especially when the reason for those hot thoughts was on the snowmobile in front of him.

  Out here in the snowy forest, Brenna was in her element.

  She drove her snowmobile faster than he did, and he could feel Jess jiggling behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist, holding on tightly as she urged him to go faster and catch her.

  They drove through snow-covered blue-spruce woods, following the trail out of Snow Crystal deep into the forest. Once they were safely clear of the resort, Tyler increased speed, and Jess whooped encouragement, loving every minute.

  He grinned inside his helmet, remembering the first time he’d done this with his father. He’d been four years old, and all he’d felt was excitement and exhilaration. It had quickly become his second favorite experience after skiing, and he’d spent several winters racing his brothers along the trails.

  He could have found any number of potential Christmas trees closer to the resort, but Brenna was intent on making the most of the snow and the sparkling blue day, and she drove skillfully along the trails and pulled in at the chocolate shack.

  “Oh, I love this place! Such a cool idea to come up here.” Jess sprang off the back of Tyler’s snowmobile and crunched through the deep snow to Brenna. “I’m riding with you on the way back. Dad is too slow.”