“Okay, thanks,” she said, disappearing into the bathroom.
Closing his eyes, he sucked in a breath. He needed to get ahold of himself and remember they were in a dicey situation. Sure, things could be worse. They had found shelter from the storm and had some food...if cookies and chocolates counted. Not to mention a nice fire and a place to bed down. But still, if things deteriorated with the weather or if no one came to find them, they could be in trouble.
Before stoking the fire, he grabbed the large pot he’d spied under the sink and wiped it out. Filling it with water, he took it to the hearth and set it as close as possible to the fire. It was too late to wash tonight, but some lukewarm water for a spit-shine bath might be good in the morning. By the time Emma emerged from the bathroom, he had the fire crackling once again.
“Feels much better in here,” she said, lugging her suitcase behind her. She wore mint-green pajamas with puppy dogs frolicking on them. It was a firm reminder that this was the kid who’d hung out at his house wearing flannel shirts and ripped jeans, braces flashing when she gave a rare smile. Emma wasn’t a sex kitten...even if she’d behaved like one.
“Nice puppies,” he joked.
Her cheeks pinked. “Yeah, they’re silly but warm.”
“And new fluffy socks.”
She lifted her foot and twisted it back and forth. “Only the latest in fuzzy haute couture.”
She joked but she looked nervous. Like a patient awaiting the dentist. Something about it was endearing. “You know I’m not going to pounce on you.”
Pressing a hand to her cheek, she said, “Oh, jeez. Give me some credit. I know you’re not interested in me that way. I’m your sister’s friend. You said yourself that I’m like family. It’s just weird to think about sleeping with you.”
“For one thing, we’re sleeping together. Not having sex. Think of it as a survival thing and not a big deal.” Much. He knew that it would be hard not to touch her when they climbed beneath the scratchy wool blankets, especially since they’d already been a little naughty by shooting tequila and playing strip poker. Who did that with someone he professed to be like his sister?
But she wasn’t his sister, was she?
And she was no longer that little girl who stared at him with yearning eyes.
“But don’t fool yourself into thinking that I don’t think about how you’d have looked in your undies. You’re a beautiful woman who is not my sister. I’m really pissed I dealt myself shitty cards.”
The darkening of her pink cheeks had nothing to do with the warmer room. “Oh.”
“So where’s that extra toothbrush?” he asked.
5
EMMA SANK ONTO the bed while Erik took a turn in the bathroom.
Oh, come on, silly. It’s no big deal. It’s like sitting next to someone on the train. Except you’re lying down. In your favorite dog pajamas.
Minutes before, she’d been warmed by tequila and wine, feeling a bit saucy and bold. That girl didn’t care if Erik lay next to her. That girl wanted him next to her. So why was she having such misgivings?
Because a gust of wind cooled her ardor?
Or because she was truly afraid of herself?
That image of Erik standing before her, sliding his boxers down had imprinted in her mind. It was like a sexy GIF that kept repeating, revving her up. Making her want to see more. Do more with the guy she’d dreamed about her entire junior year of high school...all because of that one summer night.
She’d seen him in the Mathesonsʼ pool with a girl.
Sleeping over at Alexis’s was a weekly deal in the summer. Erik had dropped out of the Air Force Academy and was in the middle of firefighter training. He’d moved back to his parents’ house to save money, but he was rarely around. But one weekend the Mathesons had gone to Vegas, leaving Alexis at home with Erik. He’d been sidelined. Rather than go out, he’d brought home the fun. In the form of one Whitney Kellogg. The beachy blonde had been the head cheerleader at Pine Ridge Academy and made wearing short shorts and knotted plaid shirts that showed her tight belly an art form. With more curves than a mountain road, the perky Whitney was the antithesis of Emma.
All weekend Whitney had perched on the arm of Erik’s chair, swigging beer and laughing with the most annoying bray. She’d touched him all the time, too. But then Saturday night, Emma had padded into the kitchen to get some markers for the project she and Alexis were working on and she’d seen them in the pool.
The moon had been full that night, framing the two lovers in the water. Erik stood in the middle of the pool, kissing Whitney and untying a string bikini that looked like a rubber band trying to hold back toddlers at a playground. The fact it hadn’t already snapped and rendered Erik unconscious was a miracle in itself. But now he was intentionally taking it off. And Emma couldn’t look away.
It was like a car wreck—visceral, horrible and oddly fascinating.
His lips had traveled down Whitney’s jaw to her neck, as his hand slid up to cup the gargantuan boob that had escaped the constraints of the bikini.
And pervy Emma had stood there, watching, wondering what it felt like...to have his hands touch her there, to have his mouth slide down and—
She had turned away, knowing she couldn’t continue to watch them do it in the pool.
But at the same time, she’d been so turned on. Not by vapid Whitney of the Big Boobs but by the sensuality of Erik. He hadn’t been like dorky Tyler McMurty who’d tried to feel her up in the church van with not so much as a how-do-you-do. No, Erik knew what he was doing. He was like a guy in a movie, gorgeous, sexy and knowledgeable.
And so she’d become obsessed with him that summer. Every time he was around, she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. Alexis noticed, of course. Her friend noticed everything. She was a regular ol’ Nancy Drew type. And she’d said things like “Stop looking at him like that. It’s so gross.”
But nothing about Erik was gross.
Actually, quite the opposite.
Erik Matheson became her ideal.
Now, the door opened and Erik emerged, still wearing a sweater and jeans. Disappointment at not getting another glimpse of the flesh she’d seen earlier that night filled her.
“Whew, that water was cold as hell,” he said.
“I know. My teeth felt frozen.”
“I set a pot of water by the fire. Figure tomorrow morning we’d light the fire again and it would get lukewarm enough to wash up with.”
“Good thinking.” She wondered if she should get up from the bed or fake being super sleepy and say good-night. Those infernal crickets that always showed up when Erik was around started chirping and hopping in her belly.
“I’m going to sit here for a few minutes and let the fire get low. Want to make sure we’re safe tonight.”
“Okay, I guess I’ll go ahead and go to bed,” she said, rising and picking up the blanket she’d left on the chair. Another one lay folded on the kitchen counter and Erik had already tucked the third one around himself. With three blankets atop the faded sheets, they should be warm enough. She set about placing the blankets on the bed and fluffing her pillow while Erik sat staring thoughtfully at the fire. Her actions were a bit sloppy because she still felt the effects of the booze she’d consumed. She wasn’t drunk, but maybe a little tipsy. The snap of cold wind earlier couldn’t erase two glasses of wine and a shot of tequila. Or was it two shots of tequila?
With nothing else productive left to do, she slid into the double-size bed. The sheets were like ice and so she swished her fuzzy-socked feet back and forth to warm the bed, drawing his attention.
“Cold?” he queried.
“Freezing.”
“Go ahead and warm my side, too.”
“Fat chance,” she said, cracking a smile.
“I always
wondered what you and my sister did during all those sleepovers. Should I expect to get my hair highlighted and have a spontaneous pillow fight?”
Emma punched the pillow and sank onto it, ignoring the musty smell from no doubt being stored for too many years. “Guys have weird fantasies about that, but to tell the truth, most of the time we watched a movie or worked on class projects.”
“Ah, I forgot what little nerds you were,” he teased.
“Little nerds grow up to be successful women, thank you very much,” Emma said, lifting her nose in the air and giving a sniff.
“Indeed you did,” he said. “I’ll try not to wake you when I slip into bed. I know it feels weird, but you’re right. If I tried to sleep in this chair, I’d freeze once the fire died. We’re big people. We can handle this, right?”
Maybe. When said out loud it made a good deal of sense. Body heat and all that, but the reality of the situation was they’d been flirting with each other all night. And though she had worn her bra under her jammies and he would no doubt still be dressed in some manner, they would be more intimate than they’d ever been.
And with the torch she’d always carried for him reignited, it wouldn’t take much before she’d lose all rational thought. She was primed to go up in smoke for this firefighter.
“We can handle this. Good night, Erik.”
He smiled. “Good night, Em. I had a lot of fun tonight. Maybe I should get stuck in snowstorms more often with you.”
Emma lay back, pulling the covers to her chin, burrowing as best she could into the lumpy mattress. A broken coil prodded her, so she curled on her side, scooting to the right, leaving Erik the left side. At some point they’d brush against each other. There would be no way to prevent it. Erik was a decent-size guy and she wasn’t exactly petite.
She wouldn’t be able to sleep.
No way she’d be able to with her stomach doing loop-de-loops and feet cold as Popsicles.
Sighing, she flipped over onto her belly, a tried-and-proven way to relax herself. With the fire crackling and the bed finally growing warm with her body heat, she found herself sliding from thoughts of her evening with Erik to regret about her poor car and missing her parents’ award presentation. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed or remedied by a YouTube video that her brother had promised to post, but still a loss. And then there was the fact the roads might be too bad tomorrow. Alexis might not have received her text. But she’d be worried about Erik. She’d call both of them and not get an answer. Her friend wasn’t the kind of girl to sit on her laurels. No, Alexis would send out the cavalry. And someone would find them tomorrow.
And then a fox appeared, sniffing the snow, making little paw prints.
And then she drifted off.
* * *
ERIK WATCHED THE fire until only a small flame remained and then he pulled the dusty fire screen in front of the hearth, assured that no small sparks would escape and ignite on the scraped wooden floors. The room was plenty toasty and he had to send a silent thank-you to the man who had built a one-room cabin rather than a much larger place. Easy to heat.
Emma breathed rhythmically letting him know she was asleep.
Which was good.
That’s why he’d stayed awake. Oh, sure, the fire and all, but he knew he couldn’t lie there with her awake, knowing that he wanted to do more than sleep. Knowing that she probably wanted the same thing.
Deal was, nothing about it was a good idea. Except the pleasure it would bring. He had no doubt they’d be good together. Beneath Emma’s cool intellect burned a passionate, funny woman. But they were from two different worlds. She with her highbrow professor friends and he with his lowbrow good ol’ boys at the station. The only opera they would consider watching would be Days of Our Lives. And that was only because Grant Teague claimed he had to be able to talk about it with his mother who was in assisted care and obsessed with the show. Erik suspected Grant was addicted to the show and needed a reason to watch.
And then there was his sister. Alexis loved Emma. Even when Alexis had moved away, she planned girls’ trips with Emma and he knew they spoke daily. If things went south between him and Emma because they gave in to desire, there would be hell to pay. He didn’t want Emma hurt. Hell, he didn’t want to hurt. But he damn sure didn’t want his sister up his ass about being a hound dog and messing with her friend.
So, yeah, he let Emma go to bed and waited for her to fall asleep. Might have been cowardly, but he knew it would be an added protection against anything happening between them.
Slowly he rose and walked to the bed. Emma lay on her side, waiting like a gift beneath his Christmas tree. Tawny strands of gold spilled off the pillow she’d punched into a ball. She looked angelic.
Yet he still wanted to gather her to him and slowly unbutton her puppy-dog jammies.
Tugging off his jeans, he lay them on the ransacked trunk filled with girlie magazines. Then he shucked off his sweater, leaving him clad only in his boxers, undershirt and socks. Not the sexiest of outfits, but he’d be way more comfortable.
Carefully he pulled the blankets back and eased ever so gently into the bed. Luckily his side was warm because of Emma’s body heat. It took a minute for him to fully relax, mostly because the pillow was total crap and the sheets smelled like his aunt Marmie’s house.
But then he caught the scent of the warm woman sleeping next to him. She wore some sultry perfume that smelled like a field of flowers and money all rolled up into one. And she snored softly. Nothing obnoxious, just little puffs of air.
He carefully rolled onto his side, turning his back to her and tucking up the covers. The bed was a bit hard and sprongy, but he’d slept on worse. Closing his eyes, he vowed to fall asleep.
But then she turned over and snuggled up to him, her hand inching across his waist. And that was all it took for his cock to twitch.
Jeez, what the hell. He reacted like some knock-kneed schoolboy who’d never gotten laid before. But obviously that part below his belt hadn’t gotten the memo that nothing was going to happen.
“Mmm,” she moaned, snuggling into him, tucking her legs up so they fit the back of his thighs, her warm breath penetrating the cotton of his undershirt.
“Emma?” he whispered.
“Mmm?”
“Nothing,” he said, because if he asked her why she’d cuddled up next to him, she’d withdraw. And if he had to sleep with a hard dick, he’d do it. Because the feeling of her pressed next to him was worth the blue balls he’d wake up with in the morning.
He let loose a sigh and stared at the rough-hewn wall. The low light from the fireplace tossed shadows against the grain.
Emma’s hand flattened against his belly, moving ever so slightly, almost a caress.
Pure torture.
Her breathing changed and it was at that moment he knew she’d woken.
“Emma?” he whispered again.
“What?” she whispered back.
“You can’t keep doing that.”
“Doing what?” she whispered, her hand stilling.
He turned over.
She didn’t move, her hand fell across his abdomen and her head dropped just beneath his shoulder. Sleepy green eyes met his gaze. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to stay warm,” she whispered.
“Oh,” he said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her to him. She lifted her head onto his shoulder and even her knee crooked over his leg slightly. He set his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it to warm her. She felt plenty warm, but the fire had nearly died out and the insulation in the small cabin didn’t look up to date.
Raising her hand, she set it on his chest.
“Your heart is beating fast.”
No shit.
He was a hair’s breadth away from rolling her onto her back an
d showing her just how much he wanted her. With every fiber of his being he wanted to sink inside her and lose himself in something so good. It took every ounce of strength he had to reach up and grab her hand. “Em, you’re playing with fire. I have pretty good self-control, but just so you know, I’m on the edge, sweetheart.”
“What if I want to go over the edge with you?” she asked, lifting her head slightly and studying him.
He couldn’t see if she was being a tease or serious.
“Have you thought about what that would mean?”
“Yes, but no one will ever have to know, would they?” she asked, wriggling her hand from his grasp. She petted his T-shirt seductively. “I mean, we don’t have to tell. It could be like a little secret. Like one of those things that happen at a party when you’re drunk...and you never talk about it again. Pretend it away.”
Briefly he closed his eyes because he really wanted to do as she suggested. Opening them, he said, “Can you handle that?”
“Sure I can,” she said, but her words seemed hollow. As though maybe she wasn’t the kind who could ever handle a true one-night stand, no matter how much she wanted to believe it. But was that his problem?
“I don’t think—”
“Maybe you shouldn’t think,” she said, pressing a finger against his lips. “Thing is, Erik, I’m a big girl now, a big girl who knows what she wants. So you either want me or you don’t. And honestly, you not wanting me might be ten times worse than you and I having crazy cabin-fever sex.”
“Not want you?” he asked, finding it incredible she didn’t already know how hot for her he was. “Here.”
He grabbed the finger that had slid down to imprint the cleft of his chin and tugged her hand downward to the raging erection he’d had since she’d first draped her hand over his waist. Placing her hand on the length of himself, nearly coming at the contact of her fingers, he said, “Does that feel like I don’t want you?”
“No, it doesn’t,” she said, fitting him to her palm.
“Oh, uh,” he groaned, wrenching her hand away before he made a total mess of the sheets. Again, he wondered how she’d relegated him to a green boy, inexperienced to such a degree he ejaculated on first contact. “I think we better slow down, Miss Emma Rose.”
A Wrong Bed Christmas: IgnitedWhere There's Smoke Page 13
