Inheriting His Secret Christmas Baby (11 page)

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 again—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.

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.

Doing her best not to wake Trevor, she lifted his arm from her waist and slowly rolled out of bed. Her robe was a mass of wrinkled material on the floor, where it had gotten tossed hours earlier, but she picked it up, shook it out to find which end was up, and quickly covered herself, tying the sash as she tiptoed out the door.

Her bare feet padded on the cool hardwood floor as she crossed the hall to her room. Inside, Bradley was lying on his back in the crib, face crinkled and arms and legs flailing as he fussed.

She scooped him up, patting his back as she carried him downstairs to the kitchen to fix a quick bottle. Taking the baby and the bottle back upstairs, while Bradley drank she sat in the beautiful, hand-carved rocking chair Trevor had insisted she have.

Once Bradley’s belly was full and he’d fallen asleep again, she put him in a clean diaper and returned him to the crib, hopefully for the rest of the night. She didn’t even know what time it was and had to check the clock when she returned the dirty bottle to the kitchen.

Five after two. She had to be up again in only four more hours. But the question now became, did she go to her room and spend those hours alone…or return to Trevor’s bed and curl up next to his warm, firm body?

Oh, she so wanted to do the latter. The thought was almost irresistible. But that didn’t mean it was smart. Sleeping with him once had been stupid enough; better not to compound that by making Bad Decision Number Two.

Rinsing the baby bottle, she left it in the sink to be dealt with in the morning, and turned to head back upstairs. A shadow fell across the tiled floor, rising over her and sending her back a step. She opened her mouth to scream, then quickly caught herself as her eyes adjusted and she realized she wasn’t about to be swallowed whole by the abominable snow monster.

“Good lord,” she breathed, slapping a hand over her chest to stop the rapid pounding of her heart, “you scared the life out of me.”

Rather than offer an apology, Trevor’s dark eyes blinked sleepily and he rubbed a hand through his tousled hair. He’d pulled on a pair of blue-and-white-striped flannel pajama bottoms, but both his feet and chest were still bare.

She’d never noticed before how sexy his feet were. Of course, the last time he’d been wearing so few clothes she hadn’t exactly been interested in his toes.

“I woke up and you were gone,” he said in a tired, gravelly voice.

“The baby woke me,” she told him. Not that she owed him an explanation. If she’d been smart, she would have sneaked out of bed even without Bradley’s prompting and locked herself in the guest room, well away from roving hands and tempting lips.

“Is he okay?”

She nodded. “Needed a bottle and a new diaper. He’s back to sleep now.”

Trevor tipped his head, which she took as a sign of approval. Then he took a step forward. And another. And another.

Haylie retreated, not sure what his intentions were, until the counter stopped her. But it didn’t stop Trevor. He continued stalking her until his chest brushed the tips of her breasts. She wondered if he could feel her nipples budding through the thin satin of her robe.

“Trevor,” she whispered as he leaned in, began nuzzling a spot just beneath her ear.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“What happened before…” She trailed off. It was so hard to concentrate while he was doing that with his mouth.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“It was…”

He licked the lobe of her ear, then nipped gently with his teeth, and her knees nearly buckled.

“A mistake,” she forced out breathlessly. “It was a mistake.”

“Definitely,” he agreed, though the fact that he was now kissing a hot, wet path to the hollow of her throat made her think he didn’t agree, not really. “A terrible mistake.”

She swallowed, determined to keep her mind on track and not let him distract her, no matter how hard he was trying.

“Then why are you…doing this?”

His fingers slipped under the belt of her robe, untying the knot and letting the garment fall open. Cool air hit her overheated skin and she shivered.

“The way I see it,” he murmured, sliding his hands inside her robe and pushing it open wider, “the mistake’s already been made. Can’t undo it.”

He made a good point. Maybe only because his hands on her breasts and his mouth on her collarbone were as intoxicating as a bottle of fine wine, but still…

“We’re both consenting adults,” he continued, kissing a path down the center of her chest. “I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t continue to enjoy one another for as long as you’re here. No strings, no promises. Just—” his tongue darted out to sweep across one tight, sensitive nipple “—pleasure.”

Her head fell back on a shudder, her eyes slipping closed. He made another very good point. The man was clearly a genius, his skills obviously wasted at a menial marketing job for Jarrod Ridge when he could be curing dreaded diseases, negotiating world peace and discovering life forms on other planets.

A tiny voice sounded inside her head, a faraway echo offering a small semblance of sanity. It forced her to open her mouth and say, “But…”

That’s all, just “but…” She knew there should be more, knew there was some kind of argument she should be posing, but darned if she could think of a single one.

So Trevor finished the thought for her. He straightened enough to reach her mouth, kissing her until the only thing taxing her brain was a flurry of stars in swirling colors.

He broke away, giving her a chance to catch her breath, but only for a second before grasping her waist and hoisting her onto the countertop.

“It’s only for a week or so more,” he told her, nudging the robe from her shoulders and letting it float down her arms to pool at her hips. “As soon as those test results come in, everything is going to change. But until then, we’ve got nothing but time.”

He kissed the curve of her breast. “To spend together.”

Her collarbone. “Alone.”

The line of her jaw. “Just the two of us.”

And finally, her mouth. “Enjoying ourselves—” his hands cupped her knees, prying her legs apart so that he could step closer and fill the space; the flannel of his pajama bottoms was soft and highly erotic against her inner thighs “—in increasingly pleasurable ways.”

There was only one thing she could think to say to that, while his lips ravished hers and his thumbs circled closer and closer to her center.

“Okay.”

Two days later, Haylie returned from the Ridge earlier than usual. She shouldn’t be doing this. She had a mile-long list of things to do, and contrary to her fondest wishes, the time leading up to Christmas Eve and Erica’s wedding seemed to be speeding up rather than slowing down.

But Trevor had finally convinced her to let him take her to dinner at Chagall’s. Even if they requested a private booth, tried to slip in under the radar, they were bound to be noticed. By the staff, by other guests, and eventually word would reach the kitchen. Trevor didn’t seem to mind, so she was trying not to worry about it, either, but that didn’t mean she was looking forward to being fodder for the Jarrod Ridge gossip mill.

Then again, maybe no one would even notice them. It was possible. It was also possible that Trevor had prepared for any such scrutiny and had a perfectly plausible story in mind to explain what the two of them were doing together.

The problem was that while they’d agreed to act as though they were merely business acquaintances and weren’t on a date, a date was exactly what this evening’s dinner would be. At least she assumed so, given the fact that she was living under Trevor’s roof and currently sharing his bed.

She knew she should be feeling guilty about the last, but heaven forgive her, she didn’t. Not yet, at any rate. And she promised herself that when the end came—which, of course, it would—she would handle it in a mature fashion. No tears or histrionics, because she and Trevor had agreed that there were no strings or expectations to this affair. They were simply two consenting adults enjoying each other’s company for as long as it lasted.

But an affair, by definition, was supposed to be kept under wraps, wasn’t it? Full of clandestine meetings and secret rendezvous. Not going out to a crowded restaurant in a very public resort where anyone could see them and speculate about their relationship, begin all manner of ugly rumors.

It was Trevor’s call, though, and he’d insisted they do this now, before she got too much more swept up in Erica’s wedding preparations. She suspected, too, that it had something to do with wanting her to experience the five-star opulence of Chagall’s before those DNA test results came in.

Maybe he wanted to impress her. Though she didn’t know how she could be any more impressed, given everything she’d already seen of both his personal home and the family’s holdings.

Or maybe he was simply trying to be nice, to give her a bit of a break from all the hard work and long hours she’d been putting in on his sister’s behalf. Of course, such a large job had been his idea in the first place, and his way of keeping her close until he found out Bradley’s paternity.

But still, Trevor was being kind and romantic, and she was just weak enough to go along with it, to let herself be swept up in the fantasy, however short-lived it would turn out to be.

Bradley was still at the resort’s day-care center, so she didn’t need to worry about him. And she had a good hour to shower, change clothes and redo her hair and makeup before meeting Trevor back at the resort, at his office, as they’d agreed.

Kicking off her shoes just inside the door, she shook off her coat and hurried upstairs. Twenty minutes later, she hopped out of the shower and began the ritual of drying and styling her hair, applying a few dabs of her favorite perfume and touching up her makeup to something a bit heavier and more appropriate for evening than work.

From there, she walked barefoot to the guest-room closet and pulled out the little black dress she’d been thinking about all day. When she’d first noticed it among the wardrobe offerings Trevor had had supplied for her, she’d thought it was entirely too fancy for anything she’d be doing during her stay in Aspen.

But the moment he’d convinced her to dine with him at Chagall’s, she’d known she would finally put the velvet sheath to good use. She’d also known exactly what shoes and jewelry she would wear with it—a pair of steep, nearly four-inch open-toe stilettos with tiny white bows on the sides and a triple strand of ivory pearls with matching earrings.

When she was pretty much ready, she grabbed a small black clutch large enough to hold a few necessary items such as her cell phone and lipstick, then realized she didn’t have a watch. She must have left it in Trevor’s bedroom.

She really tried not to leave her things in his room, because even though they were technically living together and technically now sharing a bed, moving anything into his room felt too personal, too much like true cohabitation or like this was all leading somewhere. But considering the number of times he’d lured her in there fully dressed, then stripped her down…a shiver skated down her spine at the warm, intimate memories…it was no wonder she’d managed to leave something behind.

Crossing the hall, she pushed open his door and moved toward the nightstand, where she most expected her watch to be. Halfway there, she noticed a lump in the center of Trevor’s bed.

Odd, since she remembered straightening the covers herself that very morning. She might not have managed hospital corners or done as good a job as his housekeeper, but she definitely hadn’t left a big, messy lump in the middle of the mattress.

It took a moment for her brain to process what she was seeing, but then she started to wonder if something had happened. She’d spoken to Trevor that morning before they’d parted ways outside his office at the Manor, but not since. There hadn’t been a need, since their plans for dinner had been ironed out the night before.

But what if he hadn’t been feeling well? What if he’d eaten some bad sushi for lunch or some such, and had come home sick? She’d like to think he would have called or texted her about that sort of thing, or even had Diana contact her, but perhaps he’d been too sick even for that.

Stepping forward, she reached for the covers, slowly drawing them back as she whispered his name. “Trevor? Are you all right?”

But it wasn’t Trevor beneath the bunched up sheets. At least not unless he’d grown three feet of extra hair and dyed it a bright copper-red over the last six hours.