Sweat broke out along the nape of his neck and he could feel his flesh prickle as it grew taut around his muscles and bones. If he didn’t get out of there soon, he was going to do something they would probably both regret, sleeping baby or no sleeping baby.
“I had the resort deliver dinner while you were in the tub,” he said, because it was the first nonsexual thought that popped into his head. “There’s a plate waiting for you downstairs. I’ll heat it up while you get changed.”
Without waiting for a response, he strode to the door and yanked it open harder than he’d intended. Once in the hall, he stood stock still, trying to catch his breath and regain his equilibrium.
Dammit, how could one woman shake him up so badly? He’d been with models, actresses, beauty queens… He’d dodged gold diggers and marriage-minded misses, extricated himself from women on the verge of becoming obsessive.
Then there was Haylie, who showed no interest in him whatsoever, asked nothing of him and maintained that she’d only sought him out in the first place to let him know he’d fathered a child. Yet she was the woman that his libido apparently wanted more than any of the others. She was the one he couldn’t stop thinking about, who kept him up nights for all the wrong reasons.
He’d kissed her once already, purely to satisfy his curiosity, but promised himself he wouldn’t do it again.
Behind him, the door clicked, and he straightened, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. He was supposed to be downstairs, busying himself as though he were completely unaffected by her presence. Instead, he’d gotten all of six inches from her room before overheating and stalling out.
Turning, he found her still in that sheer, lust-inducing robe and fisted his hands at his sides to keep from tearing it off her.
“I changed my mind,” she said before lifting her head all the way. Before meeting his eyes. “I’m not hungry. I think I’ll just go to bed.”
With a curse, he reached around her, pulling the door closed, then backed her up against the hard, flat panel and boxed her in.
“To hell with it,” he growled. “I changed my mind, too. I am going to kiss you again.”
Ten
Trevor’s mouth was warm and firm and just as spine-melting as the first time he’d kissed her.
Haylie knew, far in the back of her mind, that she should push him away. Kissing this man—or letting him kiss her, rather—was not a good idea. After the last time they’d done this, she’d made a long, long list of reasons why, mentally repeating them to herself often and sternly.
At the moment, however, she couldn’t think of a single one. Not when only items from the “Pro” column seemed to be jumping up and making themselves known.
Like how the winter-fresh scent of his cologne wrapped around her, clinging to her nearly as tightly as his arms wrapped around her waist. Or how intoxicating his lips were. Both soft and unyielding, they brushed and pressed and nipped, commanding her to respond like to a snake charmer’s flute.
Of their own volition, her arms lifted to circle his neck, and she leaned even more heavily against the closed door. Her legs were the consistency of rubber bands, only the door and Trevor keeping her upright.
A million reasons not to let this happen, and only one in favor of dropping her reservations and going with the tidal wave of passion threatening to bowl her over: She wanted him.
Pushing every other thought, every other caution aside, she let go and threw herself into the kiss. As though he sensed her capitulation, Trevor moved closer and deepened the pressure of his mouth. She moaned, tangling her tongue with his and threading her fingers into his hair.
When her leg came up to bracket his hip, her bare foot teasing the back of his knee, she knew she was in trouble…and knew he knew it, too.
Pulling his mouth from hers, Trevor rested his brow against hers, his chest rising and falling with his ragged breathing.
“Come to my room with me,” he whispered, the pad of his thumb rubbing back and forth, back and forth across her cheek. “Let me take you to bed.”
Could he possibly believe she was going to say no? After two of the most amazing kisses of her life and the way she was draped around him now, in the middle of the hall?
Of course, at this very second, she couldn’t form much of a response either way. Words failed her because her lungs were still straining for oxygen, her throat still thick with longing.
So she nodded and tightened her leg where it wound around his hip, which she hoped was answer enough.
It was. Blowing out a pent-up breath, Trevor grabbed her by the waist and lifted her, pulling her against his body. She brought her other leg up and crossed her ankles at the small of his back, meeting him halfway when he leaned in to kiss her again.
Then they were moving. Trevor spun to the left and stalked down the hall, carrying her as though she weighed no more than little Bradley.
With barely a pause, he pushed the door of his room open, then kicked it closed behind them with the heel of his foot. A moment later, she found herself falling backward, bouncing as she hit the firm king-size mattress.
Trevor followed her down, covering her with his long, hard body even as his hands began to explore her own. They slipped beneath her robe, touching her bare skin as he brushed the material away.
First he uncovered her thighs, taking the time to stroke them outside and in as he went. Then he moved past her h*ps to her waist, where he unknotted the robe’s sash and spread the two sides apart to reveal her br**sts and torso.
Swallowing hard, Haylie resisted the need to pull the robe back together or cover herself with her hands. Trevor was staring down at her like an explorer who’d just discovered the Lost World. It was both disconcerting and flattering—and the only thing that kept her from squirming under his blazing hot gaze.
She couldn’t remember the last time a man had looked at her with such blatant intensity. Or the last time she’d wanted one to…or wanted one just as much.
Eyes twinkling, dark hair tousled and falling carelessly around his handsome face, Trevor lowered his head and kissed the hollow of her throat, then trailed his lips down the center of her chest. Between her br**sts and over her stomach, his touch made her burn.
When he reached the apex of her thighs and placed his mouth right at the heart of her, she nearly shot off the bed. But Trevor was having none of that. He flattened one large, rough-palmed hand over her abdomen, holding her in place, while he shifted between her legs, parting them even farther and making himself comfortable.
She had to admit, this wasn’t what she’d expected. From the minute she’d decided to throw caution to the wind, she’d expected something fast and furious. A flash fire of passion, scalding hot, but quickly burned to embers. And, yes, more than a bit of selfishness on Trevor’s part.
He was a Jarrod, for heaven’s sake. One of the Jarrod Ridge Jarrods of Aspen, Colorado. Rich beyond her wildest imaginings, able to buy and do whatever he liked. A man used to getting his way in all things. She knew that from personal experience.
She also knew from all the newspapers and magazines he’d appeared in over the years that he was used to dating extremely glamorous, extremely beautiful women. Two characteristics Haylie could never claim for herself.
Oh, she was attractive enough. Not movie-star gorgeous, but not in line at the grocery store for a bag to put over her head, either. Of course, the ten or fifteen pounds that made her a little more lush than society’s image of womanly perfection would definitely push her to the other side of Trevor’s penchant for chopstick-thin model types.
As far as being glamorous went… She was too busy building her business and taking care of Bradley to worry about keeping her hair flawlessly coifed or making sure to wear the latest designer fashions. Some days, she was lucky if she remembered to put in earrings or got her shoes on the right feet.
Yet here she was, sprawled nak*d on the bed of a man she was sure would never have looked twice at her if they hadn’t been thrown together through bizarre circumstances, and he was being extremely…anything but selfish. Incredibly unselfish, in fact.
Her hands clawed at the quilted duvet as he increased the pressure of his mouth. When he hit a particularly sweet spot, she nearly shrieked, h*ps shooting off the bed. Trevor’s hands flexed where they framed her thighs, and she could have sworn she felt him smile.
Smiling was the furthest thing from her mind, though. He was creating entirely too many amazing, mind-boggling sensations for Haylie to even form a coherent thought, let alone control her facial expressions.
All she knew was that her entire body was on fire. She was writhing, panting, straining for a completion only he could give her.
“Trevor, please.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. She hated to sound so desperate, even though she was, and bit the inside of her lip to keep from saying anything more. Saying, moaning, begging…
Thankfully, he didn’t make her speak. Kneading her thighs like a hungry kitten while she clutched at his thick, wavy hair, he redoubled his efforts, using his tongue and teeth to tease the tiny bundle of nerves hidden between her folds. Before she could manage a full inhalation of short, broken breaths, pleasure swamped her, hitting her like a bolt of lightning and sending her arching up from the mattress with a keening cry.
She hadn’t quite come down to earth yet when Trevor slid up the length of her body. Her lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes. No easy feat.
This time, she did smile. A small, wavering smile, but a smile all the same.
He was nak*d. Deliciously so. Though she had no idea when he’d stripped out of his sweater and jeans. Had her eyes been closed for that long? Or had she actually lost consciousness there for a minute after that orgasm?
It had been an incredible orgasm, so her guess was loss of consciousness.
Returning her grin with a very self-satisfied one of his own, he lowered himself on his forearms, covering her from breast to ankle. The heat of his skin seeped into hers, warming her like a bonfire, and she took a deep breath to inhale his wonderful scent.
Against her better judgment, she lifted her arms and draped them around his neck. She was surprised, really, that she could move at all; her bones and muscles were the consistency of runny gravy.
“That was awfully nice of you,” she murmured by way of a thank-you.
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Glad you liked it.”
“‘Like’ sooooo doesn’t cover it,” she said with an unladylike snort.
If possible, his grin turned even cockier. She could practically feel his ego growing by leaps and bounds.
“I’m a gentleman,” he told her, leaning in to nuzzle her throat. “And gentlemen always make sure ladies come first.”
She chuckled, the sound weak and still slightly breathless. “I don’t think that’s how the saying is supposed to go.”
“My bed, my rules.”
“Really?” She tilted her head, giving him better access. “Do those rules include pleasuring a woman so thoroughly, she falls asleep immediately afterward, leaving you to your own devices?”
He raised his head, brow arched. “Definitely not.”