Holiday Hideout Read online

  Then the smoke alarm had screeched—a blessing in disguise because now they were upright, giving him the chance to gather her close and align his body with hers. He vastly preferred kissing a woman while employing full-on body contact.

  God, she felt good, and she smelled even better; the cinnamon he’d noticed earlier blended with a scent that made his blood race. He gazed into her soft green eyes and brushed his thumbs lightly over her cheeks, which had a light dusting of freckles.

  Her eyelashes fluttered and then she closed her eyes with a tiny sigh, drawing his attention to her full mouth. She wore no lipstick, but the natural pale rose of her lips turned him on far more than if she’d been wearing the kind of bright color he’d seen in commercials, the kind that was supposed to drive men wild.

  Personally, he’d never agreed with that. Unadorned mouths were sexier, especially when they parted in a subtle invitation every red-blooded man understood.

  His groin tightened. He wanted to press his mouth against hers, wanted to grant her unspoken wish that he slide his tongue between her lips and discover her secrets. And yet…

  Her stand on commitment was clear—she was through seeking it. Only, whenever he looked at her, he saw his future. The belief was irrational and foolish, and he knew it would only set him up for heartbreak. He’d never allowed himself to be so vulnerable to a woman, to need someone who might not need him back.

  Then she took the decision away from him. Gripping the back of his head in both hands, she pulled him down into…paradise.

  As his protective shields slipped away, he wondered if he’d live to regret this moment. He’d take that chance. Submerging his doubts, he surrendered to the absolute perfection of her kiss.

  Their mouths seemed made for each other. His brain stalled out but his instincts took over, guiding him through this wonderland of sensations. She tasted of wine and desire, freedom and adventure. Her kiss hinted at exotic delights that could be his in the warm haven of her arms.

  His body responded with hot urgency. He’d intended the kiss to be a gentle exploration of the possibilities between them. Instead, she’d plunged him into a world drenched in passion, leaving him breathless and dazed.

  With a soft moan, she wriggled free and stepped back, gulping for air. “You wanted…to go…slow.”

  “To hell with that.” He pulled her into his arms again and recaptured her mouth. They could go slow the next round. For now, he needed her with a desperation that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. And that felt good, damn good.

  He was so eager that he briefly considered backing her up to the kitchen table. He didn’t think he’d get any objection from her. She’d already started unbuttoning his shirt.

  But that soft covering on the king-size bed called to him. Fortunately, the bedroom opened right off the kitchen.

  He stopped kissing her long enough to reach into his coat pocket and grab the box of condoms.

  Handing her the box, he swooped her up in his arms, carried her into the darkened bedroom and deposited her crossways on the bed. She lay in a shaft of light coming from the kitchen, her chest heaving. He took the box from her and tossed it aside, and then he followed her down.

  He should stop long enough to take off his work boots, but he couldn’t seem to get enough of her mouth, so he made sure his feet stayed on the floor. She kissed like no other woman he’d known, as if nothing else mattered but that sweet connection.

  If her mouth tasted this good, the rest of her must be even better. Between kisses, he began working her out of her clothes. Once her sweatshirt and bra were gone, he set out on a journey of discovery that took him from her lips to the fullness of her breasts.

  She whimpered and arched her back as he drew her nipple into his mouth. He cupped her other breast, loving the way she fit perfectly into his hand. He reveled in the silky texture of her skin and the heady aroma of cinnamon and aroused woman.

  Touching her was as natural as breathing. She was exotic and new, yet familiar, as if they’d danced this dance before and knew each other’s moves. When she moaned softly, he understood without words what she wanted. Sliding his hand inside her panties, he caressed her slick heat.

  She gasped and began to quiver.

  He continued to stroke her as he slowly kissed his way up from her breasts to recapture her mouth. She returned the kiss with unrestrained hunger, and when he lifted his head, she tried to draw him back down.

  He resisted. “Open your eyes,” he murmured.

  Her lashes fluttered upward, revealing eyes that had grown dark and stormy with need. She said his name on a sigh. “Mac…”

  “I’m here.” He thrust two fingers in deeper.

  “Oh, Mac…it’s so good.”

  “That’s the idea.” He stroked her with a slow, steady rhythm and watched color bloom on her cheeks. Pressure built within him, pressure that would have to be dealt with soon, but he wanted to give her this first. He circled her clit with his thumb.

  She moaned and lifted her hips, a silent plea in her eyes.

  That was his cue to increase the pace. Her soft cries grew louder as he propelled her ever closer toward the brink. Holding her gaze, he paid special attention to her trigger point, and she arched off the bed with a wild cry of release.

  As she lay trembling beside him, he leaned down and feathered kisses over her cheeks and mouth. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  Her breathless laughter seemed to fill the room with sunshine. “I do like the way you celebrate, McFarland.”

  “That’s only the beginning.” Easing away from her, he sat on the edge of the bed and unlaced his work boots.

  “Mighty fine beginning.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and caught her smiling at him in a lazy, sensual way. “Thanks. It’s easy with someone as enthusiastic as you are.”

  “I don’t want to give you a big ego, but I’m not always so…enthusiastic.”

  “No?” He dropped one boot on the floor, pulled off his sock and started on the laces of the second boot. “That’s flattering.”

  “That’s the truth. You’re one sexy guy.”

  He paused for a moment. “Some women I know wouldn’t agree with you.” He dropped the other boot and stood to take off his shirt and jeans.

  “Why in the world not?”

  “For one thing, I don’t own a tux. I’ve heard women prefer seeing a guy in one of those monkey suits. I guess it’s a James Bond thing.” He finished stripping down.

  “Their loss. Any woman who bases her opinion on your wardrobe isn’t worthy of you.”

  Her compliment soothed a part of him he hadn’t realized needed it. “That’s nice to hear.” He started to join her on the bed.

  She held up her hand. “Could you just stand there a second? It’s not every day a girl gets to ogle a man like you.”

  “Now you’re being silly.” He wasn’t used to posing for anyone, and he felt a little self-conscious. “There’s nothing special about me.”

  “That’s so not true. For one thing, you’re gorgeous, and for another thing, you’re a responsible guy who takes pride in his work. It’s a special combination.”

  He felt his face grow warm. “I wasn’t fishing for—”

  “You wouldn’t, but I wanted you to know that I feel lucky to be here with you.” Her gaze roamed over him and focused on his erect penis. She smiled. “Very lucky.”

  His self-consciousness disappeared as he laughed. “That reaction is entirely your fault. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve met in ages.”

  “Some men I know wouldn’t agree with you,” she said, echoing his phrase.

  “I doubt that.”

  “Just like women prefer monkey suits, there are men who want their woman to parade around in fishnet stockings and bustiers, and I’m not willing to jump through those hoops just because some guy has a hooker fantasy.”

  “I’ve never understood that kind of thing. Who needs the hassle?”

  “And that stuff is horribly u
ncomfortable.”

  “I’ll bet. Personally, I prefer a woman in sweats. They come off really fast.” Leaning down, he demonstrated that by divested her of sweatpants and panties in one smooth motion.

  She whooped with delight. “Nice move. Very superhero-like.”

  “Now you’re teasing me.”

  “No.” Her smile faded. “I would never tease you about your childhood dreams. No matter what you think, you’ve achieved them. You’re about as super a hero as I’ve ever run across, braving a blizzard to bring back condoms.”

  He climbed onto the mattress. “And it’s time to open that box.”

  “I’ll do it.” Rolling away from him, she reached for the box. “I want you to lie on this incredibly erotic bedspread and let me tend to your needs.”

  “Aren’t you cold? We could get under the—”

  “I’m not even slightly cold.” She pulled a condom out of the box and ripped the package open. “And if you are, you won’t be for long. Lie back.”

  He stretched out on the bedspread, and lying naked on the soft material was as sinfully decadent as he’d imagined. He’d have to exercise a truckload of self-control if she was planning to— He twitched as she touched his rock-hard penis.

  “Take it easy, big boy.” She began rolling the condom on. “This will be over in a second.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about.” She’d called him a superhero, and he’d always imagined those guys could control their climaxes as easily as they changed the rotation of the earth. Nobody ever talked about a superhero in terms of sex, but Mac had his own ideas about the subject.

  “I would love to play a little with this lovely package of yours, but from the way you’re clenching your jaw, I think I’d better not.”

  “Good call.”

  He sounded frantic but couldn’t help it. He was very close to detonating, and watching her put on the condom, her breasts quivering as she worked, her fingers caressing his already overstimulated penis, was almost more than he could take.

  “We’ll play the next round.”

  Until she’d said that, it hadn’t quite penetrated his brain that he had the whole night to enjoy this woman. And if the night went well, he’d have tomorrow, too. That was quite a lot to be thankful for.

  Then she straddled him and eased slowly down on his aching Johnson, and thankful became a sea of gratitude. She took him up to the hilt, and he grabbed two handfuls of the bedspread as he battled the urge to come. She was…perfect.

  She leaned forward, her gaze meeting his as she braced her hands on either side of his shoulders. “Cold?”

  He struggled to breathe normally. “Not at all.”

  “Good. Comfy?”

  “I’m a little…tense.”

  “I can tell.”

  “Don’t move yet.” Her breasts tantalized him, but if he touched her, he’d go off like a rocket, so he contented himself with admiration.

  The light from the kitchen outlined her in gold, giving her an angelic glow. Her face was in shadow, but he caught a lustful gleam in her eyes that hinted she was no angel. He was grateful for that, too.

  She held still as he’d requested, although her breasts trembled from her rapid breathing. She might be a little tense, herself. He hoped so. He wanted to make her come again before he lost control.

  She cleared her throat. “Sitting by the fire is nice, but this…is nicer.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Maybe next time we can do both.”

  “Both?” His brain wasn’t functioning at all.

  “Sex by the fire.”

  “Oh. I’d like that.” Now, there was the understatement of the century. He desperately wanted to touch her. Focusing all his energy on not coming, he bracketed her hips with both hands and groaned at how soft her skin felt beneath his fingertips. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Can I move now?”

  “In a minute.” Sliding his hands over her hips to her waist, he stroked upward to cup her breasts. His climax hovered nearer as he brushed his thumbs over her nipples. “So beautiful.”

  Her smooth channel contracted, squeezing his cock, and he gasped.

  “Couldn’t stop myself.” She leaned closer, pushing her breasts into his palms as she dropped a featherlight kiss on his lips. “I can’t hold back anymore. I have to move.”

  His heartbeat thundered in his ears. “Go for it.”

  She began slowly, lifting and lowering her hips in a gentle rhythm, her breath warm on his face. He felt his control slipping as he rose to meet her next stroke and the soft bedspread moved sensuously beneath him. She moaned and increased the pace, her sleek bottom slapping his thighs in a staccato beat guaranteed to send him into orbit.

  She cried out, and he abandoned all restraint, surging upward as his orgasm vibrated through him with the force of a jackhammer. The intensity of it consumed him, blocking out everything else.

  But as awareness gradually returned, he discovered Beth snuggled against his chest and his arms wrapped protectively around her. She didn’t seem to mind. It was a start.

  Beth rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Mmm. Your hair feels good.”

  “Now, there’s a compliment I don’t get every day.”

  “And I don’t give it every day. Some guys have too much chest hair and some don’t have enough. Yours is just right.”

  He smiled. “That sounds like a line from ‘The Three Bears.’”

  “You mean the story of Goldilocks, child vandal?” She lifted her head and propped it on her fist so she could look at him.

  He laughed. “Guess so.”

  “Now, I ask you, what sort of message does that send? Hey, kids, it’s okay to walk into a house uninvited, eat the food and break up the furniture before crawling into someone else’s bed.”

  He combed her hair back from her face. “I take it you won’t be reading that story to your kids?”

  “Not without some discussion, I won’t. Those bears should have pressed charges for breaking and entering.”

  He brushed his knuckles over her soft cheek. She was exactly the sort of spirited woman he’d been looking for all his life…and she wanted nothing to do with a permanent relationship. “I certainly see your point. When you put it that way, Goldilocks isn’t quite so cute, is she?”

  “Definitely not. And while we’re on the subject of damaging reading material, what about Hansel and Gretel? Their parents were going to kill them, so they ran away and got caught by a witch who planned to eat them. No wonder kids have nightmares!”

  “I’m glad your kids won’t be exposed to that horrible stuff,” he said, partly to see how she’d react.

  “That’s if I ever have any, which doesn’t seem likely. But if I did, I wouldn’t read them fairy tales without talking about the subtext.”

  “Good for you.” He pulled her down for a quick kiss. At least she hadn’t proclaimed she’d never have kids. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make a quick trip to the bathroom.”

  “And I’ll bet you’re hungry.”

  “Come to think of it, I am.” He hadn’t realized it until this very minute. “In fact, I’m starving. What have you got that we could cook up in a hurry?”

  “Eggs.”

  “Great—omelets.” He left the bed and headed for the bathroom.

  “Can you make an omelet?” she called after him.

  “No,” he called back. “Can you?”

  “No. I thought all bachelors could whip up an omelet. They always do that in the movies.”

  “Well, this isn’t a movie.”

  “No kidding. Guess we’ll have to make do with scrambled. But I’m not very good at that, either.”

  He chuckled. “Meet me in the kitchen in five minutes. We’ll figure this out together.” Damn, but he was having fun. Beth was good company, both in bed and out of it.

  As he washed up and walked into the empty bedroom in search of his clothes, he thought about that. Without the pressure of a potential commitment,
Beth was free to be totally herself. She could be as sexual as she wanted, rant about her least favorite fairy tales and admit she couldn’t make an omelet.

  She was being totally honest with him. He felt a stab of guilt, because he wasn’t being totally honest with her. He’d allowed her to go on thinking they were a two-person army battling society’s preoccupation with marriage.

  And at the moment he was AWOL from that army. Listening to Beth rummaging around in the cupboards, he couldn’t imagine anything nicer than sharing kitchen duties with her for the rest of his life.

  But if he told her that, he’d risk destroying the easy camaraderie between them. She might even ask him to leave and he’d never see her again. He wasn’t sure he’d come away from that in one piece emotionally. What a mess. For now, he’d better keep his damn mouth shut.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WRAPPED IN HER FAVORITE white terry bathrobe, her sock-monkey slippers on her feet, Beth pulled out a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. It was also her only carton of eggs. If Mac was starving, most of them would soon be cracked into a frying pan, leaving her short for future breakfasts.

  But after a romp like the one they’d just had, who cared? She’d worry about the food supply later. Maybe they’d have chips and dip for breakfast. She’d brought those, too, because she hardly ever allowed herself that kind of snack, and this long weekend had been about indulging her private pleasures. Little had she known…

  Sex with Mac had been beyond incredible, the kind of sex she used to dream of having back in the days when she still thought Mr. Right would show up. Maybe that had been the problem. Two people couldn’t have great sex if they were both auditioning for a future partner. Because she and Mac were free of those expectations, they could simply enjoy each other.

  Opening cupboard doors, which she now appreciated even more knowing Mac’s capable hands had done the refinishing, she located a medium-size bowl and a frying pan. The frying pan was stainless steel instead of nonstick, so she was probably already in trouble. In her limited experience, eggs had a nasty habit of sticking to the bottom of frying pans.