Inheriting His Secret Christmas Baby

by Heidi Betts

  Turning, he found her still in that sheer, lust-inducing robe and fisted his hands at his sides to keep from tearing it off her.

  “I changed my mind,” she said before lifting her head all the way. Before meeting his eyes. “I’m not hungry. I think I’ll just go to bed.”

  With a curse, he reached around her, pulling the door closed, then backed her up against the hard, flat panel and boxed her in.

  “To hell with it,” he growled. “I changed my mind, too. I am going to kiss you again.”

  Ten

  Trevor’s mouth was warm and firm and just as spine-melting as the first time he’d kissed her.

  Haylie knew, far in the back of her mind, that she should push him away. Kissing this man—or letting him kiss her, rather—was not a good idea. After the last time they’d done this, she’d made a long, long list of reasons why, mentally repeating them to herself often and sternly.

  At the moment, however, she couldn’t think of a single one. Not when only items from the “Pro” column seemed to be jumping up and making themselves known.

  Like how the winter-fresh scent of his cologne wrapped around her, clinging to her nearly as tightly as his arms wrapped around her waist. Or how intoxicating his lips were. Both soft and unyielding, they brushed and pressed and nipped, commanding her to respond like to a snake charmer’s flute.

  Of their own volition, her arms lifted to circle his neck, and she leaned even more heavily against the closed door. Her legs were the consistency of rubber bands, only the door and Trevor keeping her upright.

  A million reasons not to let this happen, and only one in favor of dropping her reservations and going with the tidal wave of passion threatening to bowl her over: She wanted him.

  Pushing every other thought, every other caution aside, she let go and threw herself into the kiss. As though he sensed her capitulation, Trevor moved closer and deepened the pressure of his mouth. She moaned, tangling her tongue with his and threading her fingers into his hair.

  When her leg came up to bracket his hip, her bare foot teasing the back of his knee, she knew she was in trouble…and knew he knew it, too.

  Pulling his mouth from hers, Trevor rested his brow against hers, his chest rising and falling with his ragged breathing.

  “Come to my room with me,” he whispered, the pad of his thumb rubbing back and forth, back and forth across her cheek. “Let me take you to bed.”

  Could he possibly believe she was going to say no? After two of the most amazing kisses of her life and the way she was draped around him now, in the middle of the hall?

  Of course, at this very second, she couldn’t form much of a response either way. Words failed her because her lungs were still straining for oxygen, her throat still thick with longing.

  So she nodded and tightened her leg where it wound around his hip, which she hoped was answer enough.

  It was. Blowing out a pent-up breath, Trevor grabbed her by the waist and lifted her, pulling her against his body. She brought her other leg up and crossed her ankles at the small of his back, meeting him halfway when he leaned in to kiss her again.

  Then they were moving. Trevor spun to the left and stalked down the hall, carrying her as though she weighed no more than little Bradley.

  With barely a pause, he pushed the door of his room open, then kicked it closed behind them with the heel of his foot. A moment later, she found herself falling backward, bouncing as she hit the firm king-size mattress.

  Trevor followed her down, covering her with his long, hard body even as his hands began to explore her own. They slipped beneath her robe, touching her bare skin as he brushed the material away.

  First he uncovered her thighs, taking the time to stroke them outside and in as he went. Then he moved past her hips to her waist, where he unknotted the robe’s sash and spread the two sides apart to reveal her breasts and torso.

  Swallowing hard, Haylie resisted the need to pull the robe back together or cover herself with her hands. Trevor was staring down at her like an explorer who’d just discovered the Lost World. It was both disconcerting and flattering—and the only thing that kept her from squirming under his blazing hot gaze.

  She couldn’t remember the last time a man had looked at her with such blatant intensity. Or the last time she’d wanted one to…or wanted one just as much.

  Eyes twinkling, dark hair tousled and falling carelessly around his handsome face, Trevor lowered his head and kissed the hollow of her throat, then trailed his lips down the center of her chest. Between her breasts and over her stomach, his touch made her burn.

  When he reached the apex of her thighs and placed his mouth right at the heart of her, she nearly shot off the bed. But Trevor was having none of that. He flattened one large, rough-palmed hand over her abdomen, holding her in place, while he shifted between her legs, parting them even farther and making himself comfortable.

  She had to admit, this wasn’t what she’d expected. From the minute she’d decided to throw caution to the wind, she’d expected something fast and furious. A flash fire of passion, scalding hot, but quickly burned to embers. And, yes, more than a bit of selfishness on Trevor’s part.

  He was a Jarrod, for heaven’s sake. One of the Jarrod Ridge Jarrods of Aspen, Colorado. Rich beyond her wildest imaginings, able to buy and do whatever he liked. A man used to getting his way in all things. She knew that from personal experience.

  She also knew from all the newspapers and magazines he’d appeared in over the years that he was used to dating extremely glamorous, extremely beautiful women. Two characteristics Haylie could never claim for herself.

  Oh, she was attractive enough. Not movie-star gorgeous, but not in line at the grocery store for a bag to put over her head, either. Of course, the ten or fifteen pounds that made her a little more lush than society’s image of womanly perfection would definitely push her to the other side of Trevor’s penchant for chopstick-thin model types.

  As far as being glamorous went… She was too busy building her business and taking care of Bradley to worry about keeping her hair flawlessly coifed or making sure to wear the latest designer fashions. Some days, she was lucky if she remembered to put in earrings or got her shoes on the right feet.

  Yet here she was, sprawled naked on the bed of a man she was sure would never have looked twice at her if they hadn’t been thrown together through bizarre circumstances, and he was being extremely…anything but selfish. Incredibly unselfish, in fact.

  Her hands clawed at the quilted duvet as he increased the pressure of his mouth. When he hit a particularly sweet spot, she nearly shrieked, hips shooting off the bed. Trevor’s hands flexed where they framed her thighs, and she could have sworn she felt him smile.

  Smiling was the furthest thing from her mind, though. He was creating entirely too many amazing, mind-boggling sensations for Haylie to even form a coherent thought, let alone control her facial expressions.

  All she knew was that her entire body was on fire. She was writhing, panting, straining for a completion only he could give her.

  “Trevor, please.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. She hated to sound so desperate, even though she was, and bit the inside of her lip to keep from saying anything more. Saying, moaning, begging…

  Thankfully, he didn’t make her speak. Kneading her thighs like a hungry kitten while she clutched at his thick, wavy hair, he redoubled his efforts, using his tongue and teeth to tease the tiny bundle of nerves hidden between her folds. Before she could manage a full inhalation of short, broken breaths, pleasure swamped her, hitting her like a bolt of lightning and sending her arching up from the mattress with a keening cry.

  She hadn’t quite come down to earth yet when Trevor slid up the length of her body. Her lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes. No easy feat.

  This time, she did smile. A small, wavering smile, but a smile all the same.

  He was naked. Deliciously so. Though she had no idea when he’d stripped out of his
sweater and jeans. Had her eyes been closed for that long? Or had she actually lost consciousness there for a minute after that orgasm?

  It had been an incredible orgasm, so her guess was loss of consciousness.

  Returning her grin with a very self-satisfied one of his own, he lowered himself on his forearms, covering her from breast to ankle. The heat of his skin seeped into hers, warming her like a bonfire, and she took a deep breath to inhale his wonderful scent.

  Against her better judgment, she lifted her arms and draped them around his neck. She was surprised, really, that she could move at all; her bones and muscles were the consistency of runny gravy.

  “That was awfully nice of you,” she murmured by way of a thank-you.

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “Glad you liked it.”

  “‘Like’ sooooo doesn’t cover it,” she said with an unladylike snort.

  If possible, his grin turned even cockier. She could practically feel his ego growing by leaps and bounds.

  “I’m a gentleman,” he told her, leaning in to nuzzle her throat. “And gentlemen always make sure ladies come first.”

  She chuckled, the sound weak and still slightly breathless. “I don’t think that’s how the saying is supposed to go.”

  “My bed, my rules.”

  “Really?” She tilted her head, giving him better access. “Do those rules include pleasuring a woman so thoroughly, she falls asleep immediately afterward, leaving you to your own devices?”

  He raised his head, brow arched. “Definitely not.”

  “Well, you’re in trouble, then. Because that one did me in. I’m ready for a nap.” Stretching her arms up over her head, she gave a wide, theatrical yawn.

  “Hmm.” The sound rolled up his throat, low and thoughtful. “Guess I’ll just have to change your mind about that.”

  With an exaggerated sigh, she arched her back and let her eyes drift closed. “I suppose you can try.”

  Amusement flashed across his features while determination sparked in his espresso-dark eyes. “I do love a challenge.”

  Oh, so did she. But where this one was concerned, she didn’t think she’d last very long.

  Returning his mouth to the side of her neck, he kissed her pulse point, then let his tongue dart out to lick the spot, followed by gentle sucking. That alone sent her heart racing…a fact she was sure he could feel beneath his lips.

  He kissed a trail up the line of her throat, over her jaw and to her mouth. That was when she discovered what a kiss really was. Not counting that first scorcher in the kitchen. Or the second scorcher outside her bedroom door.

  When their lips met, it was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room in one giant gulp. And when his tongue delved inside to tangle with hers, everything around them burst into flame.

  Tiny explosions went off in her bloodstream, making her wrap both her arms and legs around him even more tightly. She stroked his hair, his shoulders, his back. Moaned when he began to do the same at her breasts. Soon his mouth followed, licking, circling, gently suckling until her nipples were stiff, pebbled peaks, so sensitive, she could hardly stand it.

  She’d known from the start that Trevor was a man used to getting his way, one who didn’t like to lose. Now she also knew never to challenge him or doubt his determination. Because even though she’d only been teasing when she’d mentioned leaving him to his own devices, she was now very interested and very much involved, whether she liked it or not.

  Which didn’t mean she was going to let him be in control—at least not entirely. Working her hands between their bodies, she used her thumbs to toy with his own tiny, flat nipples…and earned herself a deep groan.

  Given Trevor’s love of outdoor sports and his level of activity, it shouldn’t have surprised her that he had an amazing physique. But truly, she thought, he was amazing.

  Almost everything about him was rock solid—biceps, pectorals, six-pack abs. He should be the poster boy for the local gym, or even for Jarrod Ridge.

  Put a tanned, sweaty, half-naked Trevor on a few posters advertising the best skiing, rock climbing, whitewater rafting in the state, and men and women alike would flock to Aspen in droves. The men in hopes of getting a bit of his adventurous streak to rub off, the women in hopes of tracking down Trevor and checking out all of those sinewy male muscles for themselves.

  Yet for now, at least, they were all hers.

  Letting her fingertips slide down the center of his chest, she stroked her way to another hard, impressive muscle. She brushed the backs of her knuckles up and down his velvety length, smiling when he released her mouth in order to draw in some much-needed air.

  “You’re killing me,” he panted, a lock of dark hair falling forward over his brow.

  “Not yet,” she murmured in her best sultry, Marilyn Monroe voice, “but soon. If you’re lucky.”

  He gave a breathy chuckle, then startled a small yip out of her when he rolled and shifted until he was sitting in the middle of the bed and she was perched above him, her bottom perched on his knees.

  “Do your worst,” he told her. “I can take it.”

  “Do you have a condom?”

  Trevor stretched out an arm, patting the top of the comforter until he found the foil packet he’d dropped within reach earlier. Holding it between two fingers, he offered it to Haylie, a punch of longing slamming into his solar plexus when she took the square from him and tore it open with her teeth.

  Oh, yeah. Taking her to bed was definitely one of his better ideas. Maybe not smart in the long run, but at the moment, he considered it freaking brilliant.

  He sucked in a breath and clutched the bedspread in his fists to keep from shooting off like a rocket when she covered him with the thin layer of latex. She was barely touching him, and it certainly wasn’t the first time a woman had put a condom on him, but for some reason, having Haylie do it—watching her do it—was one of the most erotic experiences of his life.

  And if he survived the rest of the night—which, at this point, was doubtful, very doubtful—he swore to repay her for every little bit of torture she was doling out on him. What was good for the goose, tit for tat, and all that.

  Once the protection was in place, Haylie lifted up on her knees, hovering over him as she ran her fingers through his hair, tipped his head back and kissed him. Softly, sweetly, and arousing as hell. As though he needed any more fuel thrown on his fire.

  While their mouths were still locked together, she reached between them to wrap a hand around his straining erection…a move that had him gripping her waist and thrusting his tongue even deeper. Positioning herself just right, she sank down, inch by agonizing inch, until she was fully seated, taking him to the hilt.

  Sensation swamped him, and from the digging of her nails into the meat of his shoulders, he suspected she was feeling the same.

  As promised, he let her set the pace. For several long minutes, all they did was kiss, which was just fine with him. He thought he could probably spend from now until eternity kissing this woman and never get bored. Her taste and texture were just too damn intoxicating.

  When she was ready, though, she began to move. Carefully at first, lifting herself only an inch or two. Then sliding back down. Again and again until his teeth ached from the delicious friction and his muscles twitched from holding back.

  Just as his already thready control was about to snap, she broke their kiss, gasping for air and arching so that her breasts were right in front of his face. And how could he resist such a delectable offering? Flicking his tongue over one raspberry tip, he urged her on, wanting to increase the burn of satisfaction for her the way she was for him.

  He watched her cheeks flush and the pale curve of her lashes flutter as her eyes closed. His own eyes were wide open, and he intended to keep them that way. He wanted to see every shift of color across her skin, every hitch of her chest with her rapid breaths, every degree of pleasure that showed on her face.

  And when she came agai
n—very soon, if he had anything to say about it—he wanted to see that, too.

  Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her closer. Her breasts flattened against his chest, sweat-slick skin to sweat-slick skin. She rearranged her legs to circle his hips, ankles locking and riding the small of his back, and he let his hands float along the small indentation of her spine until his fingers could twist in her hair, bring her mouth closer to his own.

  Lips and tongues met, twined, fought for dominance, while at the same time, their lower bodies moved in tandem. His back and forth, hers up and down, creating ripples of bone-melting sensation that brought them closer and closer to the edge.

  And then they were over. Haylie gasped, shuddering and spasming around him. The feel of her body tightening, clenching on his rocked him to his core and straight to a climax of epic proportions.

  Squeezing her hard enough to break something, he gave one more high, powerful thrust before his body stiffened and he spilled inside her.

  Eleven

  Hours later, Haylie shifted in her sleep, bobbing toward consciousness. She was warm and cozy and more comfortable than she could remember being in a long, long time.

  And then she realized why. A heavy arm draped her waist, a heavy male body framing her from behind.

  She was in Trevor’s bed. In Trevor’s arms.

  A stab of something… Fear? Regret? Clutched her heart even as she admitted to herself that making love with him was one of, if not the, most amazing sexual experiences of her life. It complicated things, without a doubt, but it had also made her eyes roll back in her head.

  Before she could decide whether to stay and drift back to sleep or extricate herself from Trevor’s firm hold and sneak back to her own room, she heard a squeak.

  Bradley. That must have been what had awakened her in the first place.