Christmas Seduction

by Jessica Lemmon

  Tate sucked in a breath. He guessed it wasn’t that alarming to be thinking of having a family. He was surrounded by family and piecing the relationships together as best he could.

  “Maybe someday,” he said, but oddly that felt like a betrayal to his adoptive mother.

  “You’re handling this really well.” Hayden palmed his cheek.

  Placing his hands on her hips, Tate pulled her closer, and she draped her forearms over his shoulders. She fit there, in his embrace. Claire hadn’t fit in his arms like she was meant to be there—a detail he’d always overlooked. And now that he’d met George and Jane and Reid Singleton, he wondered if in hindsight he’d find that he never fit with his family in California, either.

  “Deep thoughts?”

  “How do you know where you belong? Is it with the people who are familiar, or the people who are related?”

  “That’s a whopper, Tate Duncan,” She paused to consider. “I used to feel comfortable in chaos, but now I crave a stable environment. In your very unique case, I don’t think you’ll have to choose. You have room in your life for your adoptive parents and your birth parents, for Reid and Drew, and for your new niece or nephew when he or she is born.”

  And you.

  Pretending to be engaged to Hayden, pretending they had a future with “forever” implied, it wasn’t hard to picture her there during his brother’s wedding, the birth of a niece or nephew, or even a vacation to California to meet his adoptive parents.

  That, too, felt dangerous, but this was also a safe place to consider the possibility of what life would be like if he and Hayden were truly engaged.

  How it’d be expected to linger in their shared bedroom...

  “How tired are you?” Tate lowered his mouth to her neck.

  “Mmm,” she purred.

  He took to her lips for a brief kiss that didn’t stay that way. Sliding his tongue along hers was the foolproof cure for jet lag. He backed her toward the bed.

  “Tate,” she whispered, and he was sure “we can’t” would follow.

  “Don’t tell me to stop.” He needed her. Needed to ground himself in the only reality that made sense right now. If there was one component that wasn’t pretend, it was their explosive chemistry.

  She raised and lowered one eyebrow, suddenly alert. “I was going to say brandy with George and Reid can wait.”

  “Hell, yes, it can.”

  She’d dressed for dinner in a long-sleeved black shirt made from material that held the slightest shimmer. He slipped a hand beneath it and along her smooth skin.

  She tipped her head back, her dark hair falling over her shoulders while his hands explored her full breasts over the smooth cups of her bra.

  Her moan of approval spurred him on. And like that first time he was with her, he didn’t want to rush. Brandy with his family be damned.

  He made short work of stripping her of her shirt and bra. Cupping her breasts, he thumbed her nipples and then kissed the tips of each. Her hands explored his hair, wrecking it. He took that as encouragement and continued circling one nipple with his tongue.

  He unbuttoned her dark pants, slipping his hand past the waistband of her panties to tease her smooth folds. Spreading that wetness over her clit, he guided his fingers back and forth, until Hayden’s hands clutched his shoulders and her moans elevated to bleats of pleasure.

  Yanking his head from her chest, she kissed him with ferocity, none of her earlier fatigue present. He tenderly stroked her into her first orgasm. Watching her mouth round in pleasure and her beautiful face contort wouldn’t be a sight he’d soon forget.

  She shuddered in his arms, and he supported her weight, bracing her waist and kissing a trail from her jaw to her ear.

  “You’re so fucking gorgeous when you do that,” he rasped. “This time, do it again, but with me inside you.”

  “Sounds good to me.” She smiled. A challenge.

  He lifted her into his arms and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced, stifling her laugh with a hand over her lips while he tugged off her heeled shoes and pants.

  She daintily scooted back, folding her long legs to one side and looking up at him sexily. She was like every wet dream he’d ever had, only better—because she was here. She was real. And he was really going to enjoy coaxing forth her next orgasm.

  Tate took off his shirt, and Hayden’s dark eyes flared. That she looked at him the way he looked at her—like she couldn’t believe how damn lucky she was to have him naked—hardened his erection and sharpened his desire.

  He finished undressing and climbed over her, tickling her lips with a series of gentle kisses before trailing his mouth down her neck to her breasts. He made a pit stop at each one—he’d never be able to resist the lure of her perfect nipples—and then made himself comfortable between her thighs.

  * * *

  Ruined.

  Tate had ruined her for anyone else. Which was alarming, since she didn’t spend much time considering a man permanently being around for sex, or dating, or...anything, really.

  But, she wasn’t above having fun.

  Which was what this is, she reminded herself sternly.

  George and Jane, and even Reid and Drew who knew the engagement was for show, had treated Hayden like family tonight. There was a part of her that had basked in that attention. At the idea of being a part of a family that genuinely seemed to want for each other, not from each other.

  But Tate wasn’t a permanent fixture. This was a fairy tale. One where she’d been whisked to London by a wealthy prince—one who really knew how to use his freaking tongue.

  The sound of the condom wrapper being torn open jolted her out of her post-orgasmic bliss.

  “Wait!”

  Tate looked almost alarmed at her outburst, which was sort of funny.

  “Let’s hold off on this part.” She took the condom from his hand. “There’s something I wanted to do first.”

  Shoving him onto his back, she pressed a kiss to first one pectoral and then the other and positioned herself over him. As she kissed her way down his torso, Tate grew reverently silent. She knew he’d figured out her intentions the moment he scooped her hair into his hands and watched her work.

  And oh, did she work.

  She held his shaft at the base, flicking him a sultry glance while licking the tip of his cock. His mouth dropped open, the tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief.

  He smelled of soap from their earlier—and sadly, separate—showers, and the musky smell that was his and his alone.

  She alternated with teasing licks and loving kisses and then swallowed him whole, tickling his balls while the air sawed out of his lungs in uneven gasps.

  Moments before she would have swallowed his release, he tugged her hair, still wrapped in his fists. “Hayden.”

  When she didn’t stop right away, his voice grew gruff, more demanding, “Hayden.”

  She let him go with a soft pop, licking her lips. “Fine. I’ll stop, but only bec—”

  Without warning, he flipped her to her back and was over her in an instant. She yelped in surprise then slapped a hand over her mouth. The house was large, but not that large. No need to broadcast that she was upstairs shagging the Singletons’ newfound son.

  “Condom,” she reminded him as he nudged her entrance with his very hard member.

  “Right. Of course.” He blinked once, then twice like he was trying to bring his brain back online. He rolled on the condom in record time and, before her next breath, entered her in one long, slow slide. Buried to the root, he paused to blow out a careful, measured breath.

  “You okay, COO of Gorgeous Inc.?” She feathered his hair from his forehead, and he offered a narrow-eyed glare. “COO? Founder? Which do you prefer?”

  “I prefer—” he slid out and then in again “—for you to call me by my name
. Repeatedly. And with growing enthusiasm,” he added as he continued moving.

  “Tate.” He seemed to gain strength as she repeated his name over and over. As if he’d needed, more than anything, that reminder of who he was. As if hearing his name had anchored him.

  “Come for me, Hayden.” He lifted her calf, and she stretched her leg to rest it easily on his shoulder. The angle made it easier for him to hit her G-spot, which he had a knack for finding.

  “There,” she said with a gasp. Damn, he was good.

  “One more for me. Then I’ll let you sleep for a few hours.”

  He grinned, and she returned it. Her smile fell when she felt the telltale building of a showstopper of an orgasm.

  “Tate.” She continued worshipping as she gripped the blankets with kneading fists. Her nipples pebbled in the cool bedroom air even as sweat beaded his forehead from his workout.

  The fourth stroke was the charm.

  She dissolved, the release hitting her so hard she squeezed her eyes shut to absorb the impact. He wasn’t far behind her, growling his release. He came to a jerky stop moments before collapsing on top of her.

  His weight pressed her into the mattress, a thin sheen of sweat sticking his chest to hers. “By far my favorite work out is having sex with you.”

  “Agreed.” She swept a hand through his hair and kissed his temple.

  He left to deal with the condom, but by the time he returned, her eyes refused to stay open. She was vaguely aware of the sound of him pulling on his clothes, barely awake when he feathered a kiss on her cheek.

  The last words she remembered was his whispered promise of, “Rest up. You’ll need your strength for later.”

  Fifteen

  “He had no idea who you were?” Hayden leaned closer to Drew at the tightly packed bar.

  When they’d first stepped into the Churchill, she’d been agape with wonder. The outside of the building was draped with Christmas trees. “Eighty of them and eighteen thousand fairy lights,” Reid had shared. From that point on, the place had fascinated her.

  Hanging from the ceiling were numerous beaten-copper pots, pans and lights, and at one point she spotted a guitar case and even an accordion. As its name suggested, the Churchill was dripping with memorabilia, in memory of the man after which it was named. The walls were wooden and dotted with framed photos and paintings, the tables and chairs well worn from plenty of use.

  “There’s no better place to be than Church on Christmas Eve,” Reid had told Tate, looping a brotherly arm around his neck as he’d dragged him inside.

  Hayden was ridiculously happy for Tate. He had a fun, boisterous, lovable family. She could see clearly that his mother had wanted to accompany him out tonight only to be close to him awhile longer. And who could blame her? The woman had gone decades believing her other son was deceased. In the end George had wrangled Jane in, encouraging her to “let the lads and lasses have their fun.”

  Drew circled the straws in her club soda with lime before confirming Hayden’s question. “Reid had no clue it was me.”

  “Then what?” Hayden was on the edge of her seat hearing how Drew and Reid had bumped into each other at a work conference. She stirred her own club soda with lime, content with the mocktail and Drew’s company. She listened intently as Drew told her about the huge crush she’d had on Reid when she was sixteen years old and how running into him again was her very narrow window to properly seduce him.

  “So I’m lying in his hotel room bed fast asleep and he does this—” Drew snapped her fingers in Hayden’s face “—and literally scolds me for not telling him who I was!”

  Hayden laughed. It’d be a story for the grandkids, without a doubt... An edited version, but still.

  Drew was beaming, glowing. Even though half her story was shouted so as to be heard over a rowdy group of lads chugging down their ciders and ales.

  The patrons of Churchill had worn their Christmas finery. For most of the ladies, sparkly dresses—one lass wore an elf costume—and the guys, including Reid and Tate, wore funny hats. Reid, a court jester hat and he’d talked Tate into the one shaped like a giant pint of ale.

  “He’s doing well, Tate,” Drew pulled her eyes away from their guys to say. “I’ve been trying not to watch him with George and Jane, but it’s so beautiful to see them together. And when Reid joins the mix...” Her eyelashes fluttered. “Sorry. Hormones.”

  “You don’t have to explain. I’ve felt that same sort of emotion being around them. Tate’s doing amazingly well.”

  “I remember the first time I had that look in my eye. It’s unique to a woman falling in love.”

  Hayden tried not to overreact, but she was relatively certain her shocked expression rivaled the one she’d worn when she stepped into Church for the first time tonight. Except instead of awe over garland and pinecones, flickering candles in lanterns and sleigh bells strewn hither and yon, her shock was due to her inability to agree with her new friend.

  “It’s not love.”

  “Oh.” Drew was uncharacteristically chagrined. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to assume...”

  Hayden waved a hand to cut off Drew’s needless apology. “I can see how you’d draw that conclusion. We have a great time together. He asked me to come here and support him, and I couldn’t turn down a friend.”

  Though friend seemed a lame word for what they had been doing together in bed every time they were alone. It sounded lame saying it out loud, too, but if Drew noticed, she was too polite to point it out.

  “I’m glad he has you. No matter how you define it. And there’s no need to define anything, is there? It’s Christmas!” Drew lifted her glass, and Hayden tapped her own against it.

  On the other side of the bar, the guys sat close to the fireplace, glasses of bourbon or some kind of brown liquid in hand. Reid tossed his head back and laughed, his throat bobbing, and Tate swiped his eyes as he laughed along with him. Hayden was hit with the oddest sense of pleasure at seeing Tate happy. And not the way she might mildly appreciate someone enjoying themselves. More like she was invested in him. Her assuredness about not being in love with him didn’t stop her from having feelings that were, while not love, definitely love-like.

  If there was a real fiancé in Hayden’s life, Tate would be the ideal candidate.

  * * *

  Tate sat by the fireplace while Reid fetched refills at the bar. On the way he stopped and placed a hand on Hayden’s shoulder and smiled down at her. When she replied with an eye roll, Reid winked.

  They’d accepted her, his family. His parents, his brother and Drew. The same way they’d accepted him into their lives. There were rough patches, of course. Awkward moments where the air was stale and no one spoke. But ultimately someone thought of something to say, and it was always in order to help Tate feel at home.

  His mother had been asking about wedding plans almost nonstop. “Let me know the date as soon as you’re certain,” she’d said. “I’ll book a flight.”

  I’ll book a flight had been Jane Singleton’s mantra since Tate arrived. She was anxious to come to the States, and when Tate agreed at lunch that he’d enjoy showing her around Spright Island, she’d promptly pressed her lips together to quell more tears.

  Her crying over him made him uncomfortable, but he understood. He felt as if he’d been robbed, and yet at the same time he wouldn’t trade his childhood or his adoptive parents for anything in the world.

  Hayden turned her head to look over at him and he waved. She smiled, demurely at first, but then her teeth stabbed her lower lip to keep away a full grin.

  My fiancée, he thought when he returned her smile. What had he been thinking asking her to play the role? She was great at it, though. So great that it wasn’t hard to imagine her in that role for real. But the timing was so off it wasn’t even funny. He was scrambling to keep his life sewn together at the sea
ms and Hayden... He kept referring back to their conversation the first night they were together. One night at a time had been the promise—a reprieve for them both.

  Pretending was fine. Short-term. Fun. But reality came with an entirely new set of rules.

  “Cheers.” Reid returned and handed Tate one of the drinks. “Hayden is gorgeous and funny and you’re not likely to do better.” Reid’s cheeks puffed as he held the liquor in them for a beat before swallowing and wincing. “Holy hellfire.” He coughed.

  Tate opted for a sip rather than a gulp.

  “I never saw myself married or a dad, but it’s about to happen for me. I’m one of those happy idiots I used to feel sorry for.” Reid was more careful taking his next drink. “And before you accuse me of trying to induct you into the married people hall of fame, just know that I have no agenda other than your happiness.”

  Rare was the moment Reid was sincere, but he appeared so as he held his glass aloft. Even wearing the jester hat.

  “I appreciate you looking out for me.” Tate sat back into the stuffed chair. “What Hayden and I have now, it’s working. It’s easy. Simple.”

  Tate nodded, liking the sound of both of those words. Easy and simple wasn’t something his life had been lately.

  “Simple has its merits,” Reid said, but it sounded like a line. Something to say to fill the air rather than the truth, which reflected in blue eyes that matched Tate’s own.

  * * *

  Outside the Singleton home, Tate stood in the backyard, a brisk wind stinging his reddened cheeks. He’d gone to bed around 1:00 a.m., after several glasses of the burning liquid Reid kept bringing him. He’d come back here, passed out and then woke at 3:30 a.m., his heart racing like it was trying to escape his chest.

  After three big glasses of water—one of them with an aspirin chaser—Tate wandered outside. The in-ground pool was draped with a black tarp, closed this time of year. He had vague thoughts of swimming in it, of losing a toy and of his mother diving in after it wearing all her clothes.