'Tis the Season to Be Tempted

by Aimee Carson

  But her gaze looked anything but innocent.

  “You haven’t moved,” she said.

  “I’m tired.”

  Which he only wished were true.

  He was very much awake.

  “You know what I think?” she said as she leaned, catlike, in the doorway.

  The tension in his muscles ratcheted up a notch, because he was absolutely sure that he didn’t want to know. So he remained silent as he fought for the standard bland expression tinged with a touch of exasperated patience. The expression he’d always been careful to maintain around Evie.

  “I think you want me,” she said.

  A muscle in his eyelid twitched. The edgy feeling grew, but he met her knowing gaze with a determined one of his own. “I’m not going to sleep with you, Evie.”

  She pushed away from the door, slowly heading in his direction, sending his heart rate higher. Wes took a deep breath, willing himself to be strong.

  “Why not?” she said softly.

  Wes frowned. “You’re vulnerable right now. And you know it. You’re on the rebound from a relationship.”

  She advanced across the room with a languid stride that was killing him. “It’s been a year since I last had sex.”

  Wes nearly groaned. There were some things he really didn’t need to hear.

  The dewy, freshly scrubbed beauty of her face was tempting. Determined not to touch her, he took a step back, intent on keeping her at a distance.

  She came closer, looking at him with big doe eyes. “So why not you?”

  “Lots of reasons,” he said in his best matter-of-fact voice. Although his body longed to live out those fantasies of his youth, he backed farther away, refusing to let her near.

  Unfortunately, she kept pace with him, thwarting his attempts. “Name one.”

  “I can name twenty.”

  She lifted a stud-pierced eyebrow with the knowledge of a woman who knows she has a man by the libido.

  “You hate the corporate types,” he said.

  “I’m willing to put my political beliefs aside.”

  He backed a step farther, but the luscious woman kept coming. “Your New Year’s resolution involved swearing off men.”

  “That was twenty-four hours ago.”

  He struggled to focus. “Dan asked me to look after you.”

  At the mention of her brother her steps faltered and a flicker of emotion crossed her face. Fleeting, but strong enough to suss out the worry, the anxiety, and the woman who was desperate for approval. The realization slammed into him, putting her high school years into perspective. Evie Lee Burling had refused to compromise her beliefs, but that hadn’t stopped her from longing to be accepted.

  “And I’m fairly certain that looking after you didn’t include us sleeping together,” he went on drily.

  She blinked, and her hesitation disappeared. “Dan knows I’m a big girl.”

  Wes edged back, getting closer to the bar and the end of the room. The situation now critical, he scowled. “I won’t be seduced by you, Evie.”

  “You know the saying,” she said simply. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

  The scoff that burst from his mouth was harsh, because the platitude was garbage. All the will in the world didn’t matter. If it did, as a kid Wes could have saved his family from the painful indignity of his father’s embezzlement scandal. And he certainly would have spared himself the ridicule of his classmates that followed. Wes couldn’t betray the only friend who’d steadfastly stood by his side.

  Loyalty was important.

  “I’ve heard the platitude,” he said. “But I don’t believe sheer will alone overcomes all obstacles.”

  But, for the first time, he hoped to hell it was true. Because the only thing that was keeping him from taking this sassy woman was his will. Wes tried to suppress the memory of a tipsy Evie, her body boneless against his. The clumsy come-on had been adorable, her beautiful face flushed from the alcohol and a genuine longing. But the woman who stood before him now was stone-cold sober, with a determined look in her eye. And an unrelenting desire.

  Evie adopted a falsely innocent look. “Apparently I mentioned kitchen utensils during my drunken stupor.”

  She passed the liquor cart—her face an incredible mix of sweet seduction, determination, and the tiniest hint of nerves—and picked up the ice tongs.

  He was totally screwed.

  His hips hit the marble counter on the bar behind him, halting his attempts at keeping her at a safe distance. Wes thought his heart would pound its way out of his chest.

  “I think this qualifies,” she said smoothly as she held up her tool of choice.

  And what the hell would she do with it?

  Body screaming to find out, he ignored the response and made the only argument that had a hope of swaying Evie. “Dan would skin me alive for taking advantage of you.”

  She tipped up her chin. “He thinks I’m a reckless little girl who doesn’t know her own mind.” She held up the tongs with a pleased light in her eyes as she stepped close enough for him to smell the citrus soap. “But I do, you know.”

  His brain was having trouble functioning. “Know what?”

  “Know my own mind,” she said calmly. “Like the fact that I want to make love to you tonight.”

  The word came out a heavy groan. “Evie—”

  “Listen,” she said as she met his gaze, as if taking her measure of the man. “I’ll make a deal with you.” She sounded remarkably matter-of-fact. “If I can get your clothes off, using nothing but the limited kitchen utensils in this hotel room, you’ll spend the night making love to me.”

  Stunned, Wes couldn’t move as he looked into the dark chocolate eyes that were making promises he shouldn’t want her to keep.

  And the idea was absurd.

  “That’s not possible,” he said, amazed he was able to sound logical.

  She looked up at him, wide-eyed. And if he’d been smart, he would have feared the overly innocent expression that looked so out of place on Evie Lee. Her scent, her beautiful, defiant face, and the gentle curves of her body called to him.

  A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he clenched his teeth.

  He needed her to step back. He needed her to remove herself from his presence.

  Because with Evie’s arrival back in his life, he was rapidly realizing how bland his world was. And if he started to dwell on just how tedious his life had become, who knew what he would do?

  “I’ll make you a promise,” she said. “If I’m unsuccessful at getting you naked with the kitchen utensils alone…”

  He ignored the heated blood coursing through his veins at the thought.

  She lifted a brow and went on. “I’ll let you keep my Hello Kitty underwear as a reminder of what you missed.”

  Wes should say no. But, damn it, he’d dreamed of her enough that, when she failed, he wanted something to remember this day by.

  So instead, he said, “I need to work tomorrow. Which means when you lose, you also have to leave me alone and let me get some sleep.”

  “Deal,” she said.

  Her quick agreement should have been the second sign that he was in trouble. But there was no way in hell a woman could get his clothes off with ice tongs.

  And a big part of him was disappointed.

  Evie stepped unbearably closer, and Wes steeled himself against the onslaught of sensual images. Her upper body covered by the still-damp T-shirt and a lacy bra that did a terrible job of shielding the tips of her breasts, Evie dropped the towel from around her waist. Hello Kitty stared at him expectantly from the patch between her thighs. Wes clenched his teeth and forced his gaze back to hers.

  Her sultry expression was not reassuring.

  Using her tongs, she clasped the loop of leather threaded through his
belt buckle and tugged. When the strap wouldn’t give, her brow furrowed.

  A look that really shouldn’t have been so endearing.

  After several jerks without success, her furrow grew deeper, and Wes couldn’t help himself. He smiled. “You can give up now if you want. Save face and keep me from gaining custody of Hello Kitty when you lose.”

  But the teasing tone was his third—and fatal—mistake.

  She shot him a libido-piercing look and adjusted her grip on the tongs. With a tug, she slipped the looped leather from the buckle. Another hard pull at just the right angle, and the catch slid from the hole in the belt, the strap going slack.

  Evie’s eyes glowed as she yanked the leather free from his pants and the belt fell to the floor with a plop.

  Wes concentrated on not coming unglued.

  “Beginner’s luck,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said, voice clearly delighted. “I guess the fates have finally decided to smile on me.”

  God help him.

  “I should have left you in that snowbank,” he said darkly.

  Pink lip between her teeth, a line of concentration on her brow, Evie grasped the front of his pants with the tongs and pulled. The catch loosened and released, and his pulse responded.

  “And I should have changed into tight jeans,” he muttered.

  Beaming, she stared at his erection, now patently visible beneath the fabric. Her voice was a breathless mix of awe and desire. “I’m so glad you didn’t.”

  And then she gripped the zipper and pulled, the teeth mutinously giving up their position easily, and the scrape of metal sent a piercing thrill through his body. His gut clenched. Wes fisted his hand.

  His pants fell, pooling around his feet.

  Tongs in hand, Evie stepped back and admired her handiwork. “My luck has most definitely changed for the better.”

  Heart pounding, Wes kept his gaze steady on hers. “Too bad I wear briefs,” he said, managing a wry tone.

  “I’ll worry about those in a minute,” she said. “I’m still working out the problem of the buttons on your shirt.”

  Despite his vulnerable position, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m afraid ice tongs won’t do you much good there,” he said, leaning his hip against the marble counter.

  Evie chewed on the corner of a full lip and set the tongs down. She opened a drawer and pulled out a tiny knife.

  He let out a hiss. “Christ.”

  She leaned in close, her hips lightly pressed against his, and his body screamed for him to press his erection firmly against her.

  Evie slid the knife between the fabric and the top button, and Wes’s breathing grew harsh. “If this is sharp enough,” she said, her voice husky, her proximity robbing him of the ability to think, “your shirt doesn’t stand a chance.”

  With time and a bit of pressure, the button gave, pinging to the floor and wrenching Wes’s heart. When she popped a second one, the urge to crush her in his arms grew stronger. Staring down at her, he forced his hands to remain at his side, fixing his stare on the tiny stud at her eyebrow.

  “I was kidding,” he said, his voice gruff. His breaths came faster as she worked her way down.

  “About what?” she said, sounding breathless herself.

  “You never mentioned kitchen utensils.”

  “Too late for a confession, Harvard,” she said.

  More buttons popped and hit the floor with a tick.

  More of Wes’s restraint lapsed. Until, finally, his shirt hung open in front. He was faring remarkably well, despite the crippling desire, until Evie spoke again.

  “My God, Wes,” she whispered. “Your chest is beautiful.”

  And when she placed those soft lips on his pectoral muscle, desire skewered his groin so sharply, Wes couldn’t help it.

  He let out an agonized groan.

  Wes closed his eyes and concentrated on his harsh breaths as her mouth headed from one side of his chest to the other, trailing damp, openmouthed kisses along the way.

  Much more of this and he couldn’t be held accountable for his actions.

  “Evie,” he said. “You might get more than you bargained for.”

  Her lips on his skin twisted the achy pleasure higher, cranking his agonized need tighter.

  “I’m hoping I do.” Evie leaned back, sounding remarkably focused given the pulse bounding at her neck. “Though I still have the problem with your underwear.”

  With a determined light in her eye, she carefully slipped the tip of the blade beneath one leg of his briefs. He struggled to restrain the blunt curse, chest heaving as she lifted the knife. But instead of cutting, the fabric stretched, refusing to split as it strained against his aching shaft. Frustrated desire firmly gripped his groin. And all the blood left his brain and headed south, to support more urgently needy areas. He clenched his teeth, praying she wouldn’t find a way.

  Praying that she would.

  She reached around him, and the sound of a drawer opening barely registered in his brain.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she said. And from her tone he knew he was in trouble. “I have gained an appreciation for the finer things in life.”

  Desire throbbed painfully through his body as he gazed down at her face, his voice rough. “How so?”

  With an innocently delivered Cheshire cat grin, Evie held up a small pair of scissors. “Your expensive penthouse suite comes fully equipped for a proper seduction.”

  Wes wasn’t sure, but he might have whimpered.

  Sweat beaded along his brow, and his chest heaved as she slid the open tip of scissors up one leg, the scrape of metal pricking goose bumps up his spine.

  With a few snips, one side of his briefs went slack.

  His erection screamed for release as his heart thundered erratically.

  Once more he tried to warn her, his voice almost a growl. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

  Wide, decadent eyes held his as she switched the scissors to the other hand, the now inevitable promising slide of metal on his hip the most erotic sensation he’d ever felt.

  “Well,” she said, “you’re not me.”

  With one final snip, the briefs released his shaft and fell, and years of fantasies involving the delectable Evie came crashing down.

  With a crude curse, Wes crushed his lips to hers.

  Chapter Four

  Wes’s mouth captured her gasp, and Evie’s heart rolled over and went a submissive belly-up as his lips consumed hers. The kiss was fierce. Raw. And Evie relished the arrival of the wild, primal man beneath the responsible, do-right exterior.

  All pretense of patience gone, Wes speared his fingers through her hair and forced her head back, taking more of her mouth, thrilling her with his actions. His tongue rasped against hers, demanding everything. As if he could merge his body with hers with his lips and strength of will alone. As if he’d never get enough. As if she was all he’d ever need again.

  Lost, Evie basked in a kiss that made her feel what she hadn’t in a very long time. Wanted. And what she’d never quite felt before.

  Irresistible.

  Wes pulled away.

  “Wes—”

  “Don’t.” His gaze burned into hers as he yanked at her Hello Kitty underwear and pushed the fabric to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her shirt and bra. “You’ve had your turn,” he said gruffly. “Now I’m going to engage in my favorite pastime.”

  Her lids stretched so wide he must have seen the question.

  His dark eyes bored into hers, his breathing harsh. “Telling you what to do,” he answered.

  She didn’t have time to laugh because, with a determined swipe, he swept the utensils from the marble bar, brushing aside her short-lived amusement in exchange for a roaring desire. And, as the gadgets clanged against the floor, he gr
ipped her hips and hauled her up on the counter.

  His first order came out brusque. “Take off your shirt.”

  Fingers fumbling, she jerked the fabric over her head. His teeth nipped her lower lip as she dropped the tee, before taking her mouth again and leaving her head spinning. For a moment all she could manage was to keep up with another soul-searing, devastating kiss that threatened to devour her.

  “Bra,” he rasped.

  Evie released the clasp and chucked the undergarment aside. Pulling back, his gaze fiercely appreciative of the view, he lowered his head. When his mouth closed around a nipple, her throat clamped tight, the thrill cutting off her breath.

  And liquid heat pooled between her legs.

  Frantic, desperate, she clutched the cabinet door handles behind her head as his lips, teeth, and tongue worshipped her breasts with such a single-minded determination she couldn’t tell who enjoyed it more—her…or him.

  The ache between her legs grew acute. Wes was just what she craved. A man she could trust, who was dependable. The kind of guy who watched over her when she was at her most vulnerable, but who burned with a passion so powerful it slayed all thoughts of treating her with kid gloves. He took her to places she’d never been before. Pushed her to very edge of her limits. Protective when he had to be protective.

  Fierce when she needed him to be fierce.

  From her breast, his third command rumbled against her sensitized skin. “My shirt.”

  His mouth still working its magic, she complied. Her hands slipped under the fabric and slid down hot, hard shoulders, his muscles bulging and lengthening beneath her palms as he shifted to help push his shirt to the floor.

  Once freed, his hands moved to her legs, his fingers stroking the inside of her thigh. Evie bit her lip.

  “Wes, please,” she breathed, arching her back.

  “Not yet,” he said. He flicked his tongue across a nipple as he brushed a thumb across her slick center.

  She whimpered, the sound alien as she held her legs open, desperate for him to end the agony that held her tightly in its grip. As he continued to drive her mad with want, his thumb on her nub, mouth relentless on her breasts, strangled sounds came from her throat. Her mind went blank, numb with pleasure.