A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Can I get you something?”

  “No, I just...” He gestured toward the bathroom.

  “Sure, sure.” She made shooing motions with her hand. “That was a long drive.”

  “Yeah, it was.” An insanely long drive. He probably needed to look long and hard at his reasons for making it. But for now, he had something more basic to take care of. He walked into the bathroom, closed the door and turned on the light. Then he caught a glimpse of some raggedy stranger in the mirror.

  The stranger turned out to be him, and damn, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked this bad. Scruffy beard, hair sticking out every which way, bloodshot eyes. Shitfire. Whitney must be dying to get a piece of this.

  After taking care of his most urgent problem, he fastened his jeans but took his belt off. He’d get it later.

  Returning to the sink, he washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face. It didn’t improve his reflection any, but his eyes felt a little less gritty. While his hands were still wet he finger-combed his hair into something more presentable.

  He couldn’t do anything about the bristles unless he fetched his shaving kit out of his duffel. Settling back down so they could both get some sleep was a higher priority. He turned off the light and walked back into the bedroom.

  She was still sitting up with the light on as if she’d been waiting for him. “You probably didn’t have a decent dinner. If you’re hungry, I can fix you something. It won’t be fancy, but I have some eggs and bread for toast. I even have homemade jam from my mom.”

  Sounded heavenly. He hadn’t eaten since grabbing a quick lunch before leaving. But he wasn’t about to have her get up and make him something. “That’s okay. Let’s just go back to sleep.” His stomach rumbled loud enough that he knew she’d heard it.

  She laughed and threw back the covers. “Come on. Neither of us will get any sleep with that going on.”

  “You can go back to bed. I’ll have a slice of bread and jam and that’ll take care of me.”

  She shook her head as she shoved her feet into a pair of fuzzy pink slippers. “I’m awake, now, and I doubt I’ll go back to sleep while you’re rattling around in my kitchen. Unless the blizzard’s let up and the roads are all cleared, I won’t be opening Rangeland Roasters this morning, so no worries.”

  He followed her into the kitchen, watching her hips move under the soft flannel. She wouldn’t be wearing anything under that nightgown. “I kept the radio on while I drove, and they said to expect heavy snow until late this afternoon. Nobody will be on the road today except emergency vehicles and snowplows.”

  She sighed. “Oh, well. Good thing business has been great until now. Our bottom line won’t be hit too hard, but I worry about my employees. I pay them by the hour and when they don’t work for several days, it has to hurt.”

  “I hadn’t considered that.” Selfish jerk that he was, he’d only thought about the joy of snuggling with her all morning because she wouldn’t be going in to work.

  “I’ll find a way to make it up to them.” She opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of eggs. “Next week I’ll spend less time behind the counter and give them extra shifts. I’ll find out if anybody has a rent or car payment due and they can have first pick of hours.”

  “You’re a good boss.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled at him. “That’s my goal.”

  “What can I do to help?” He leaned against the counter as she bustled around grabbing a frying pan and a bowl from a cupboard and butter from the refrigerator.

  “Make toast.” She took a toaster from a bottom cupboard and plugged it in. Then she put a loaf of cinnamon bread on the counter and a jar of cherry jam.

  “I’d be happy to.” He hated to admit it, but he was starving now that food was being offered. Watching her move around the kitchen was giving him a sexual appetite, too, but after barging in here without warning, he’d settle for a meal. He’d seen himself in the bathroom mirror. He wouldn’t blame her if she’d rather feed him eggs and toast than have sex with him.

  While butter melted in the pan, she beat the eggs with a wire whisk. The motion made her breasts jiggle, and yes, he noticed that, too. She poured the mixture into the pan and the sizzle fit his mood. If he had his way, they’d eat this in bed and satisfy both his hungers, but he wasn’t going to suggest it.

  She used a wooden spoon to stir the eggs as they began to cook. After she added some salt and pepper, she glanced over her shoulder. “What do you want to drink?”

  “Not coffee. I’ve had enough to last me a lifetime. Whoops, that might sound offensive to a barista.” He spread jam on two slices of warm toast and then popped two more pieces of bread into the toaster.

  “I’m not offended. How about cocoa?”

  “I could go for that.”

  “Me, too. I even have a can of whipped cream. Unless you’re a marshmallow guy.”

  “Nope. Always liked whipped cream better.”

  “All righty, then.” She turned off the heat under the frying pan. “Those will be fine for a couple of minutes while I make some cocoa.”

  He’d never felt so domestic in his life. He wanted cocoa and he wanted her. Upon arriving he’d joked about the flannel nightgown, but it was growing sexier by the minute. Knowing her naked, luscious body was concealed under all those rosebuds fired his imagination. The combination of wholesome and erotic was damn near irresistible.

  At least one of his appetites needed to be satisfied ASAP. “Do you mind if I eat some of this toast? I’m hungrier than I thought.”

  “Please do. I have another loaf in the freezer. Cinnamon bread, peanut butter and cherry jam are what I stock in for blizzard conditions.”

  “You have peanut butter?”

  “I do.” She grabbed another pan from the cupboard and began measuring out sugar and cocoa. “In the refrigerator. Help yourself.”

  He rummaged around and found the jar—creamy, just the way he liked it. He knew from listening to his married friends in Cheyenne that a relationship could rise and fall over crunchy versus smooth. He and Whitney wouldn’t have that argument or the other one about marshmallows versus whipped cream.

  Then he paused, a table knife resting in the gooey peanut butter. It wasn’t all that surprising that he’d think of marriage after driving twelve hours through a blizzard to be with her. People didn’t generally do that kind of thing unless they were extremely attached to someone.

  Being extremely attached often led to marriage and most aspects of that scenario appealed to him—just not the part where his dearly beloved asked him to haul the picture albums out of the closet. But who knew? Maybe she wouldn’t ask. Maybe he’d never have to do that.

  He spread peanut butter on top of the jam. That was a back-assed way to do it, but he was too hungry to care. After eating the first piece of toast in three bites, he polished off the second one about the time the toaster popped again. He doctored those up real quick and ate them, too. Then he turned to find her watching him.

  He gave her a sheepish smile. “Guess I was hungry.”

  “Guess so.” She turned off the heat under the steaming cocoa and came toward him. “You have jam on your cheek.” She reached up and swiped at it with the tip of her finger.

  He caught her hand. “Can’t be wasting it. That’s excellent jam.” He sucked it off her finger. He’d meant it as a playful gesture, but the second her finger was in his mouth, everything changed.

  Before he could stop himself, he’d pulled her close. He gave one brief thought to his beard, but he had zero control. He kissed her as if his life depended on it.

  She kissed him back with such energy that he figured neither of them was in the mood for subtlety. Gathering up the warm flannel of the nightgown, he bunched it at her waist so he could reach between her thighs, her very damp thighs. That electric discovery disconnected his brain entirely.

  When he swept her up in his arms, her slippers fell to the floor. No matter. She wouldn’t
need slippers for what he had in mind. Carrying her back to the bedroom, he tumbled with her onto the bed.

  Lust raged through him as he yanked open the bedside table drawer and grabbed a condom. He likely set a record for opening his jeans and rolling one on. She was breathing as hard as he was as she lifted her nightgown and opened her thighs.

  With a groan of pure joy, he sank into the warm, receptive haven of her body. Locked inside her at last, he regained a little of his sanity. “Whitney...forgive me... I had to.”

  “I know.” Her eyes blazed with passion as she bracketed his face with both hands and gazed up at him. “I’m glad you had to.”

  He gulped for air. “But the eggs will be ruined.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I gave you whisker burn. Your chin’s red.”

  “I don’t care.” Releasing her grip on his face, she shoved her hands under the denim of his jeans and clutched his hips. “It’s been two long weeks, Ty!”

  He shuddered. “Believe me, I know how long it’s been.”

  Her fingers flexed and she lifted her hips to align them more perfectly with his. “So let’s make up for it. Give me what you’ve got, cowboy.”

  He sucked in a breath. “That’s a promise.” And he proceeded to make good on that promise as he poured days of frustration into every vigorous thrust. He’d driven for hours through a blizzard for this...and this...and dear God, this.

  The sound of her breathless pleas as she urged him on inspired him to move faster and push deeper. He sought her heat again and again, pounding into her as if he could never get enough. He wouldn’t last long at this pace, but neither would she. Already the quiver of her impending climax squeezed his aching cock.

  He had to come, couldn’t hold back. Not this time. Later he’d make long, slow love to her, but now...now she trembled beneath him. Her thighs shook and her body arched upward as her cries of release filled his ears. He let go, coming with such force that he nearly blacked out.

  When his brain stopped twirling, he was relieved to discover that he hadn’t collapsed onto her. By some miracle his arms hadn’t given way even though the rest of his body felt as if a paving machine had rolled him flat. He had no confidence he could keep that upright position for long, though.

  Easing away from her, he managed to climb out of bed and stagger into the bathroom. When he returned, she lay exactly as he’d left her, her nightgown pushed to her waist and her thighs moist with lovemaking.

  Turning on her side, she regarded him with slumberous eyes. The movement caused the hem of her nightgown to slide down and cover her thighs, but the heat in her gaze was enough to jump-start his pulse. Although she looked like a satisfied woman, she gave him the distinct impression she was willing to be satisfied again.

  Her seductive smile only confirmed it. “Why don’t you take off your clothes and come back to bed? We need to sleep, and then we need to do that again.”

  “Only slower.”

  She laughed softly and her cheeks grew pink. “If that’s what you want.”

  “I do, but if we’re going to stay here, I’d better go check the stove to see if anything’s still on, like the eggs.”

  “Nothing’s on.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I shut everything off.”

  “When?”

  “When I caught sight of you devouring that toast. Suddenly I wanted you so much I couldn’t breathe.”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “I turned you on by eating toast?”

  “You weren’t just eating it. You were diving into it with reckless abandon.” She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “That’s how you make love to me, and it’s...intoxicating.”

  There was no mistaking the hunger in her eyes and Lord help him, he responded. Blood hummed through his veins and gathered in a predictable spot. He started unsnapping his shirt. “I still haven’t shaved.”

  “Ask me if I care.”

  “A minute ago you mentioned something about sleeping.” He dropped his shirt on top of his duffel and reached for the button on his jeans.

  She glanced at the telltale bulge behind his fly. “You don’t look sleepy.”

  He had to smile. “I’m not anymore.” He unzipped slowly, easing past the briefs that were being seriously stretched by his thickening cock. “It seems I have to be nearly dead before I can sleep when you’re around, especially when you look at me like that.”

  “Then I guess we’re left with one option.” Lazily she sat up and peeled off her nightgown. She did it slowly, revealing her glorious body inch by inch. At last she tossed the nightgown away and gazed at him. “I’ll have to wear you out.”

  He froze, afraid if he moved a muscle he’d come. He’d always been in such a rush to have her that he’d never let himself take in the whole picture. Her cheeks weren’t the only part flushed with desire. So were her shoulders, her arms, her breasts...

  Ah, those breasts. He’d stroked them, licked them, kissed and nibbled them. But he hadn’t really looked. He hadn’t admired the tantalizing shape that so perfectly fit his cupped hands, or the pert tilt of her nipples and how the color deepened when she was aroused.

  His glance moved lower, over her flat belly to the soft blond curls dampened by passion. His mouth watered as he remembered the thrill of tasting her. His fingertips tingled at the memory of caressing her silken thighs, the tender backs of her knees, her delicate ankles. Her toenails were painted pink. He hadn’t noticed that before, either.

  “Come to bed, Ty.”

  His gaze traveled slowly back up the length of her tempting body. Then he looked into her eyes as he shoved down his jeans and briefs. “Gonna wear me out, huh?”

  “You say that like you think I can’t.”

  “I don’t know if you can or not.” His pulse raced in anticipation as he climbed into bed. “But I’m more than willing to let you try.”

  15

  AS SOON AS Ty was in bed beside her, Whitney had him lie on his back. But as she was about to straddle his thighs and have her way with her tasty cowboy, she had an idea. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.” Climbing over him, she headed out of the bedroom.

  “I thought you said everything was shut off?”

  “It is,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m just getting a couple of things.” She returned with the can of whipped cream she’d planned to use for the cocoa and a large bath towel. “Scoot over so I can put a towel under you.”

  He followed her instructions. Once he was stretched out on the terry cloth, he stuffed a pillow behind his head. Then he watched her with a wicked gleam in his eye and a teasing smile. “I can’t wait to see how this turns out.”

  “Me, either. I’ve never tried it.”

  “I see.”

  “Have you?” Before getting into bed, she took a condom out for later.

  His chuckle was low and sexy. “I’ve had whipped cream before, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking.” She’d never admit it to him, but the combination of his beard and that smile reminded her of the calendar. They weren’t the only factors, either. The man in the picture had looked as if he wouldn’t hesitate to drive twelve hours through a snowstorm to make love to the woman he wanted.

  The sedate lawyer she’d known in Cheyenne wouldn’t have dreamed of doing something that impetuous and foolhardy. Or if he had, he’d bring along a laptop so he could also get some work done. Ty had brought only a change of clothes and some toiletries.

  Maybe the blizzard and the threat of not seeing her had caused him to abandon his careful facade this weekend. After making love to him in the back of her Subaru she’d known he could do it. She just didn’t know if the transformation would last.

  That was why she’d wanted to take this relationship slow and easy. She’d wanted to give it room to grow at its own pace instead of rushing and perhaps ruining everything. Instead, they were marooned in this apartment, probably for another twelve hours, a
t least.

  They wouldn’t have work, friends or family to interrupt them. She had a feeling that forced proximity could permanently alter the dynamic. She couldn’t begin to predict the outcome, but she could take advantage of the time to really get to know him. She’d allow him to know her, too. Then she’d let the chips fall where they may.

  She tossed the condom on the far side of the bed.

  He glanced at it. “Is that a before or after item?”

  “After. When we get down to serious business.”

  “Just so you know, I have a seriously stiff—”

  “I noticed.” Standing beside him, she shook the can as she considered the possibilities. “Where to start, where to start.”

  “I have a suggestion.”

  “I’m sure you do, but this is my game.” Holding the can, she slid in next to him. “After nearly ten years of working in a coffee shop, I know how to handle whipped cream.”

  “Then I’m in the hands of a professional?”

  “Exactly. One who’s perfectly qualified to try this at home. I can’t think now why I never have.”

  “You were lacking the proper inspiration?”

  She looked into his eyes and found the rake lurking there. “Could be.” Easing one leg over his stomach, she lay belly to belly with her bottom nestled up against the seriously stiff anatomical feature he’d mentioned.

  “I’m liking that.” He grasped her hips and wedged himself in tighter. “Maybe we should forget about the whipped cream. If you’ll just reach over and get that condom, I can—”

  “Nope. Not yet.” Although feeling his hard length pressed against her bottom was very erotic indeed. “Open your mouth.”

  “My mouth?” He started laughing. “I was so hoping you’d squirt it on my—”

  “Maybe I will if you’re a good boy. Open your mouth.”

  “Okay, but this is what we used to do as kids. I was expecting a more grown-up whipped cream adventure.”

  “It will be. Open up.” When he finally obeyed, she squirted whipped cream into his mouth. Then she dived in with her tongue.