A Wedding for Christmas Page 4

  But there was something more. An inner steeliness that was new, control that came from the military or maturity or both. He was seasoned. Tempered. She could taste it on him.

  He was working hard to keep his passion in check. She knew it didn’t come naturally to him. Was he doing it for her? Because she was special? Or because he still saw her as Miss Priss and assumed she was sweet and innocent?

  Phooey on that.

  What? Did he think she’d been living in a nunnery? She was almost twenty-seven years old. Okay, so she hadn’t slept with that many guys. If she went to bed with him, he’d be number four, a modest number for women her age.

  Maybe she was a little on the sweet and innocent side, but the only way to cure that was to act in a not so sweet and innocent way. She was as entitled to her sexuality as the next woman. What was wrong with simply wanting to have a great time?

  Katie claimed his mouth again, making it her own. She was the untamed one now, chaotic, in a sexual tailspin. She ate him up, tasting and sucking and licking.

  Please. Strip my clothes off. Throw me on the bed. Do me. Hard and long. Make me whimper and moan.

  Still he let her take the lead, holding steadfast to her fanny. Not moving. She knew he wanted to. He was not the kind of man who easily gave the reins to anyone, under any circumstances. But here he was, deferring to her.

  Dammit. She was not a china doll. Screw this self-control stuff. She’d provoke a reaction out of him one way or another.

  She yanked his jacket off his shoulders, and flung it across the room. He grunted, stood looking down at her like he’d been hit by a cyclone.

  Good. She wanted to shock him.

  She pulled the tail of his shirt out of his waistband, skimmed her palms up underneath the hem, ironing her hands along the heat of his taut abdomen, felt the burn of his bare skin.

  Hot.

  Damn.

  Tamale.

  Twelve years ago this ugly duckling would never have captured his attention. That hadn’t stopped her from doodling “Mrs. Ryder Southerland” in her diary. Back then he’d been lean and gangly, narrow-hipped and long-legged.

  He was still long-legged, but there was nothing gangly about him now. Filled-out and full-blown man. Ever muscle in his body was hard and big, but not bulky. Not an ounce of fat.

  She dug her fingertips into his flesh, enjoying the feel of his solidity.

  He hissed in a breath as if he’d been scalded, and swayed on his feet.

  She moved to his belt buckle, surprised by how expertly she thumbed it open.

  Two big strong hands went to her shoulders. “Katie,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

  She tipped her chin. “Pretty sure, unless that’s a gun in your pocket.”

  He groaned again, pulled her into his arms once more, pressed his head against her forehead, stared into her eyes until they were both cross-eyed, and giggling.

  “What is going on here?” he whispered.

  “Hopefully, we’re about to have sex.”

  “I’m talking about the ramifications.”

  “The only ramification I foresee is hot sex.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Katie.”

  “Do you mean physically or emotionally? If you mean physically, I’m a lot tougher than I look, and who ever minded a few rug burns or bruises in the pursuit of pleasure? If you mean emotionally, get over yourself, mister. I’m no longer that pathetic fifteen-year-old who had such a crush on you.”

  “You were not pathetic. You were a sweet kid.”

  Sweet.

  He was still seeing her as that awkward teen when she wanted him to see her as a red-hot firecracker. She was just going to have to show him.

  Katie kissed him again, as firmly and fiercely as she could. “You taste anything sweet about that?”

  “Katie,” he said in a quiet, serious tone. “I don’t have anything to offer a woman like you.”

  “I’m not asking you for anything beyond tonight, and frankly it’s a little ego-y of you to assume that I want anything more.”

  He shook his head. His eyes were unreadable. Kid gloves. He was handling her with kid gloves, and it pissed her off.

  “But hey.” She wriggled away, still on her knees, and waved at the door. “You’re free to say no. I could go. I’m sure it wouldn’t be all that hard to find someone willing to spend the night with me.”

  “Over my dead body.” He growled.

  “Then step up to the plate,” she said, barely about to contain herself. Need popped out on her like freckles.

  “You want sex?” he asked, his tone darkening along with his irises.

  “Yes!” She thrilled to the flicker of wildness she saw in his face. Not fully housebroken after all. “Take me.”

  “Is this what you want?” He got up, taking her hand, taking her with him, dragging them both to their feet. He spanned her waist with his hands, picked her up off her feet, and tossed her onto the mattress.

  “Yes.” She laughed nervously. “Yes.”

  He hesitated, desire and honor warring in his eyes.

  “Come and get me,” she said, and it was like waving a red flag at an angry bull.

  He made a beastly noise, charged the bed, any scrap of self-control gone. In that moment he was exactly what she wanted—something wild, something wonderful, something just a little bit dangerous.

  His mouth crushed hers, kissed her long, deep, and vigorous. Kissed her like he’d been waiting his entire life to devour her.

  She was into it, one hundred percent.

  Then abruptly, he moved back, took it all away again.

  “What?” she whimpered.

  “You think you can handle that?” He said it like he didn’t believe she was up to the challenge.

  This was so on.

  She used a word then that would have gotten her grounded when she was fifteen. A succinct, dirty word that started with an F, and she added “me” to it.

  An I-didn’t-expect-that expression of startled surprise lit up his eyes.

  “What? You didn’t think I knew words like that? I have four brothers. I hung out with you and Joe, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Heaven’s sake?” One eyebrow curled up, a question mark. “Now that sounds like the Miss Priss I remember.”

  “I haven’t been her in years.”

  “Trying to convince yourself you’re something you’re not?”

  She ground her teeth. “That’s pretty insulting, Southerland. I’m not a virgin. I was engaged, and even before Matt, I had boyfriends. I had sex. Did you think I was sitting at home drying up and pining because you ran away from me when I kissed you?”

  “No.” He hung his head.

  “I like sex,” she said. “I like it a lot. And I haven’t had any for over a year, so excuse me if I would like to have sex with a handsome guy.” When she finished her speech, she was breathing hard, chest yanking up and down in a jagged rhythm.

  And so was his.

  But he didn’t say a word. He was on his hands and knees on the mattress, looming above her, dark and silent and mysterious.

  Katie notched her chin up. “In case you haven’t noticed, Ryder, I’m a full-grown woman in charge of my own sexuality. We’re not kids living in my parents’ house. Look at me. See me for who I am today. Right here. Right now.”

  His eyes glittered in the dim lighting.

  She wasn’t quite sure what was happening to her, but she knew one thing, she did not want to be put up on a pedestal. She wanted a man who would let her be in control when she wanted to be, and take the lead when she didn’t. A man who could both respect any boundaries she set, but yet wasn’t afraid of her. She wanted someone wild and earthy. A sensual man who knew how to live in the moment.

  She wanted a man like Ryder Southerland. Had wanted him for a long time now.

  “Well?” she demanded. “Are you in or are you out?”

  Nothing.

  Not
a word. Not a peep. Not a movement.

  “I’m not that sweet kid you used to know. Actually, I never was. I like to talk dirty in bed. I make noise too, sometimes really loudly. And I want to do it with you.”

  Still, he said nothing.

  Was he shocked? Had she shocked him? Actually, she’d shocked herself being so forward.

  “I’m human. I have needs,” she muttered, more to herself than him. “I’m allowed to ask for what I need. Just as you are allowed to turn me down.” Her pulse galloped in her ears, a hundred horses’ hooves. “Are you hearing me?”

  He was a jungle tiger, staring down at her, trying to decide if she was worth eating or not.

  Katie suppressed the hard shiver that gripped her spine, but he saw it. He knew.

  “I want you, Ryder,” she whispered. “Take me now before I explode. Take me, or I’m walking out that door.”

  Chapter 4

  The woman had no idea how much restraint it took for him not to rip her clothes off and sink his body into hers without any preamble or warm-up. And Ryder didn’t want to do that.

  Hell, he was just a man, and she was a beautiful woman begging him to make love to her.

  God, he was wound up. Crazy. She was driving him batshit crazy with lust.

  But he couldn’t forget she was his best friend’s little sister. She was a good girl, who’d grown into a mighty fine woman, but that didn’t change the fact she was sweet and kind and nice, and the last thing on earth he wanted was to taint her.

  He knew she’d had a crush on him when she was a teenager, and he couldn’t shake the feeling she was trying to live out some girlhood fantasy by taking him to bed.

  If he were a smart man, he’d get up off this mattress and get her the hell out of here as fast as he could.

  Apparently, he was quite stupid, because when she locked her sexy legs around his waist, he surrendered to his cravings, and kissed her.

  Christ, he was sunk. One taste of her sweet lips, one whiff of her flowery scent, one sound of her soft whimpers and he lost it.

  She wanted him. She’d told him so.

  And he wanted her too. Far more than was smart to admit.

  He pulled back. “You’re sure?”

  She groaned. “How many times are we going to have to go over this? I’m single, and well over twenty-one. I’m a woman with needs. You’re a man with needs. No one else ever has to know about this.”

  “What happens in LA stays in LA?”

  “Exactly.”

  Still, he hesitated.

  “Stop thinking of me as the girl you once knew. I’m not the same person. You’ve put me in a box and tied me up in a neat little bow.”

  “I thought that was the way you liked things. Neat and tidy.”

  “Don’t restrict me with labels.”

  Was that what he was doing? Guilty. He’d compartmentalized his past, and Katie along with it, shoved it away in the back of his mind. He of all people should know better than to slap a label on someone. Look how he’d been labeled, judged, dismissed as a punk and a troublemaker.

  And once the labels had stuck, he’d felt an obligation to live up to them. Dumb. What a dumb kid he’d been.

  Not much smarter now, Southerland.

  Using those powerful legs, she tugged him down on top of her, hugging him tight, as she sniffed his neck.

  Hell, she wasn’t the only one fulfilling childhood fantasies. He’d always seen the potential in her, able to look past the gawky exterior to the woman she would become. But now that woman was in his arms, potential fully realized, and it was a complete game changer.

  She was not only the quintessential girl next door—wholesome, peppy, generous, reliable—she was brave and honest and sexier than any woman he had ever known.

  Bit of an overstatement?

  And he’d known a lot of women. Still, he could not remember being stirred to this level. He studied her through heavily lidded eyes. Not an overstatement. Not by a long shot. His engines were revved and ready to rock.

  “Well?” she said a bit rudely. “Are we doing this thing or not?”

  He smiled. Okay. If this was what she wanted, he was in.

  “That was like pulling teeth.” She exhaled, and went to work on the buttons of his shirt. “Let’s get naked.”

  He laughed. Her enthusiasm was contagious. Damn, but she was fun.

  Her hot palms skimmed the planes of his abdomen, and her touch was so amazing, he had to close his eyes for a moment to collect himself.

  “You okay?”

  “Terrific.” He growled, opened his eyes, and dispensed with her dress as she efficiently relieved him of his shirt, stripping her down to her bra and panties—a red bra and panties that matched her dress.

  Brick house. The woman was stacked.

  Have mercy.

  His mouth went dry, and he realized he was staring, but couldn’t seem to stop. Amazing. She was absolutely amazing.

  “Let’s get rid of that bra,” he said.

  “Yes.” She giggled. “Free the girls.”

  Once “the girls” were freed, Ryder cupped them in his hands. They overflowed his palms. Hard to believe that skinny girl he remembered had grown so voluptuous. Her stomach was flat and smooth, her thighs taut.

  Perfection. She was sheer perfection.

  None of the other women that he’d been with could hold a candle to the beautiful woman in his arms. She exceeded his wildest expectations. It was as if he’d been waiting his entire life to be with her.

  Hell, maybe he had.

  He’d left Twilight partly because of her. Because of the inappropriate feelings he had for her. She’d been like a little sister to him, and when he’d started having wicked thoughts about her, he knew he couldn’t stay in Twilight.

  The feelings were still there. Not just there, but stronger than ever. Completely dismantling him.

  Unbelievable. He’d gone to work today as usual, nothing out of the ordinary, and then on the turn of a dime, everything had changed, and he was living out his wildest daydreams.

  Him. Katie Cheek. In bed together.

  Amazing.

  He kissed her. Everywhere. Mouth. Chin. Cheek. Forehead. He feasted on her. Earlobes. Neck. Breasts. Those beautiful, beautiful breasts. He touched her. Caressed. Massaged. Kneaded. Smooth flesh. Tender skin. Soft hair. He tasted her. Salty. Sweet. Hot. Moist.

  Reverently, she ran her hands, lips, and tongue over his body, exploring him the way he explored her. Full throttle. No holds barred.

  And when she wrapped her velvet hand around his erection, it hit him like a concrete wall.

  No dream. He was truly here, in Katie’s arms, making love to her. Stirring the chemical soup that started simmering the day he’d used a plum to teach her how to kiss.

  Did she have any idea how long he’d lusted after her?

  Tenderly, he eased her off him, and slid from the bed to kick out of his shoes and shuck off his pants. She flipped over onto her belly, rested her chin on her stacked palms, her sweet rump in the air, watching him with a gleam in her gorgeous brown eyes.

  He wished he had his cell phone so he could snap a picture of her, a forever souvenir of this momentous occasion.

  When he stripped off his boxer briefs, she sucked in an audible breath. He met her gaze. She smiled coyly, whispered, “Impressive.”

  A chuckle bubbled up from the bottom of his lungs. He knew he was an average-sized guy, maybe a little wider than most, certainly nothing extraordinary. But he was pleased that she was pleased. Her approval was a helluva turn-on.

  “Come here,” she said, and crooked her finger at him.

  Bam! He was in her arms again, their legs entwined, and they were kissing her hotly, deeply. Her glorious breasts rubbed provocatively against his chest. Incredible.

  And when she pressed her luscious mouth to his granite erection . . .

  “Katie.” He sat up; her name was a gasp in the dark.

  Laughing, she pushed him back, and re
turned to kissing, licking, and flicking that wicked tongue of hers. Her long blond hair tickled against his skin, driving him absolutely mad.

  God, she was so damn beautiful—the feel of her soft mouth on him, the sight of her naked body, that heavenly face, and that naughty wink when she paused long enough to glance up and catch him watching her.

  She made him feel so good.

  Scary good.

  But damn, he wanted this to be about her, not him. “This isn’t what I want,” he croaked, desperate to break the spell while he still had some strength of will.

  For the first time, she looked at a loss. “I did something wrong. What did I do wrong?”

  “Not a damn thing, sweetheart. You’re perfect. But I want to look into your eyes.” He reached down, slid his hands under her armpits, and hauled her up to his chest.

  Somehow, she was still wearing those scarlet panties that looked so dramatic against her creamy white skin. He hooked one finger around the waistband and slowly tugged them over her hips to her ankles. She kicked them off with one graceful riffle of her foot.

  Ryder flipped her over onto her back, and knelt between her spread legs. He inhaled her feminine perfume, touched her gently. She came unspooled, a soft gasp slipping from her lips, and he laughed.

  “Oh you.” She sighed. “You.”

  “Me.” He crowed proudly, and touched her again, pressing firmer on her most sensitive spot. “Me.”

  She moaned softly.

  Ah. She was so responsive, so ready for him.

  “I have a condom in my purse,” she whispered.

  “No worries. Got one in my wallet.” He scrambled for his pants, found his wallet and the foil package inside, returned to bed.

  She leaned over his shoulder, kissing his arm as he rolled on the rubber. “Hurry,” she said, managing to sound both adorable and hot. “I want to feel you inside me.”

  The minute he had the condom in place, she shoved him onto his back and straddled his hips, ready to sink down . . .

  He caught her around the waist, held her suspended over him, holding her off, making her wait.

  “Hey,” she protested, and stared down into his face.

  “You slide down this pole, there’s no going back.”