TATUM STRETCHED AND rolled onto her side. But when she opened her eyes, she realized she was alone. She sat up. “Spencer?” she called out.
No answer. A peek at the clock told her it was eight fifteen. Sleeping in was a rarity. But after last night... She smiled, stretching with a soft squeal before collapsing back on the mattress. She stared up at the ceiling, enjoying images from last night to warm her up. Spencer. Spencer’s hands and mouth and his incredible body. Last night had been... Her breathing grew a little unsteady and her heart rate picked up. How she could want him again—so fiercely—when she enjoyed him not three hours ago was a mystery. But she did.
“Spencer?” She threw back the blankets and slipped into her robe, smiling at the delectable soreness left from last night. Once her slippers were on, she headed into the kitchen. But no Spencer.
There was a brown paper bag on the counter, her name sprawled across it. She grinned as she opened the bag and found a large breakfast burrito wrapped in foil inside. And a note.
She pulled out the note and carried her burrito to the kitchen table. It read,
On the first night of Christmas, my lover took from me: sleep. But I’m not complaining. Be back with the family around 9:30 a.m.
She smiled, tucking his note in her robe pocket, and unwrapped her breakfast. On the counter, a small pot was on, heating coffee he’d obviously made and left for her. Sex all night, hot coffee and yummy food, and a sweet note. She could get used to this roommate-with-benefits thing. She munched away on the burrito and poured herself a cup of steaming coffee.
A flutter of movement caught her eye, drawing her attention to the view out the window over the kitchen sink. It was snowing, thick, heavy flakes falling steadily onto the already carpeted expanse of her backyard. Snow didn’t last long in Texas. Ice and slush were more prevalent. If she’d been little she would have hurried to get dressed so she was the first person to touch the snow. She’d make snow angels and build a small snowman and make snowballs to have ready—Lucy would’ve come over for a snowball fight. But then the Ryan boys would sneak up on them when they were halfway through their snowman, annihilating it and burying them under a hailstorm of well-packed, well-aimed snowballs. She and Lucy would end up soaked and shivering in front of the fireplace, waiting to thaw before going out to finish their snowman.
Not this time.
The clock told her she didn’t have much time. She finished off her breakfast, swallowed down the strong coffee and hurried to make stew for later. Once that was done, she fished out her baby-pink ski gear from her high school ski trip. She dressed, tugging on the faux fur–trimmed puffy coat and a knit hat with its matching pink pom-pom on top before pulling on her snow boots. She might look ridiculous, but she was warm. In no time, she was in the backyard, preparing her snowball arsenal for the arrival of the Ryan boys. She finished just in time for the telltale sound of voices in the front yard.
Tatum sneaked around the side of the house. “Lucy?” she whispered as loudly as she dared.
Lucy saw her, her eyes going round as Tatum waved her over.
Spencer, Dean and Jared had no idea what hit them. She and Lucy unleashed years of pent-up frustration, pummeling the three until their dark coats were crusty with snow. The few snowballs they managed to throw couldn’t compare with the intense rain of freezing cold missiles she and Lucy kept lobbing their way.
When the last snowball was gone, she and Lucy set off at a dead run for the house—knowing their luck was done. As they pulled the door shut behind them, the resounding thud of at least a half a dozen snowballs hitting the door reverberated through the entry hall.
They were laughing too hard to care.
“You are a genius,” Lucy said. “That was...”
“Epic,” Tatum finished. “Though I suppose the nice thing to do now is make them some coffee?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “When did they ever do anything to warm us up?”
Tatum couldn’t help but remember all the wonderful things Spencer had done last night. He’d warmed her up. She was getting warm just thinking about it—and him.
Lucy was waving her hand in front of her face. “Earth to Tatum. I so don’t want to know what you’re thinking right now. Let’s make coffee.”
Five minutes later, her kitchen was filled with three shivering, irritable men holding steaming cups of coffee.
Lucy continued to giggle off and on.
But Tatum was too caught up in the bright blue gaze of Spencer, intense and brooding.
“Not the welcome I was expecting,” Dean said, grinning over his coffee mug at her. “But the coffee helps.”
“Oh, come on,” Lucy said. “How many times did Tatum and I end up face-first in snow while you three ran off laughing?”
The three of them mumbled, knowing she was right. They gave up, grinning in defeat.
“Exactly,” Lucy continued.
“Well played,” Jared said, toasting her with his mug. “Might need another cup, though. My boots are full of snow and I can’t feel my toes.”
Tatum laughed. “Sorry.”
“Somehow I don’t believe that,” Spencer said, his eyes pinning hers.
She couldn’t say a word. The heat in his look was blazing, chasing away any of the chill that clung to her. When his gaze traveled along her neck, she could almost feel his touch on her skin.
“So how’s life been treating you?” Dean asked, breaking the hold Spencer had on her. “I hear you’re single. I’m happy to volunteer my services as your rebound guy.”
Tatum looked at Dean, stunned. Was he serious? Dean had always been the hot guy, the ladies’ man with the biting humor and the restless spirit. While there was no doubting he was nice to look at, he was—and always would be—Lucy’s annoying brother.
Jared nudged his brother. “Seriously subtle, bro.”
“Wow, Dean, just wow,” Lucy said, shaking her head.
“Pissed I beat you to it?” Dean asked Jared, ignoring Lucy altogether. He grinned at Tatum. “Think about it, Tatum, if you’re looking for a way to get back in the game—” He pointed at himself, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m just saying—”
“I think we all get what you’re saying,” Spencer barked. “But if we want to get the house ready for tonight, you’ll have to hold off on your sweet-talking for now.”
Tatum glanced at Spencer, taking in the tightness of his jaw and the slight narrowing of his eyes. What was surprising was just how much she liked his irritation over Dean’s flirting.
While the others finished off their coffee, she ran back to her room to get her glove liners. It was cold and she wasn’t as used to it as they were. If she was going to be any help she’d need—
She turned to find Spencer filling the doorway. “Spencer?” The way he was looking at her...it was hard to breathe.
She found herself pressed against the wall, his lips parting hers, his tongue seeking entrance and his hands holding her face. Her fingers threaded through his thick hair, pulling his head down to hers. There was nothing gentle about his touch or his kiss. It was possessive—claiming her, making her quiver and ache.
He pulled back, his eyes searching hers before he left her panting against the wall. She stood, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart, as she heard the door open and close.
She was still pulling herself together when Lucy poked her head into her room.
“He leave you all hot and bothered?” Lucy asked. “’Cause he looks like a ticking time bomb. I thought you two would have, you know, done the deed by now.”
Tatum felt the heat in her cheeks as she tugged on her glove liners.
Lucy giggled.
“We should go help,” Tatum said, unable to stop the smile on her face.
Even with the glove liners, Tatum’s fingers went from tingling to numb. The others had no problem wrapping the large tree in white lights. She and Lucy hung all the wood-chip angels, adjusting the lights so the whole tree was illuminated. When the only thing left was the star for the top, Jared and Dean held the ladder while Spencer teetered on the top step.
“Be careful, Spencer,” she called up to him, wincing as he balanced on one foot to place the star.
“Will do.” His voice reached her.
“Some things never change.” Jared chuckled.
Jared was right. On the surface, it all felt very familiar. Except it was so very different now. She and Spencer had been young and crazy in love—strong and deep. Well, it had been for her. They weren’t in love—how could they be? They didn’t know each other anymore, not really.
This wasn’t about love; this was about want. And she wanted Spencer more than she’d ever wanted...anything. She wasn’t going to spend hours wondering about his thoughts or feelings. She was going to spend hours exploring his body and her sexuality. This was different.
Maybe it was reckless to invite Spencer into her bed when there was still such a strong connection between them. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe she’d regret it...later. Right now, the thought of touching him, kissing him—having his hands on her—was all that mattered. Her body needed him in a way she didn’t fully understand.
“Looks great.” Mrs. Ryan joined them, gripping a large pot. “I made mulled cider, to help chase away the chill.”
“Smells good,” Dean said.
“Thanks, Auntie,” Lucy joined in.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Ryan. I know I’m freezing, so this will definitely help,” Tatum agreed, ready to get inside. “It will go great with the stew I made.”
“You go on in,” Spencer called down. “We’ll finish up out here.”
“I’ll carry it,” Tatum offered, taking the large pot from Mrs. Ryan and heading up the path.
“I’ll be in, in just a minute,” Mrs. Ryan offered, making the three men groan. “Oh, shush, I only have a few ideas.”
Lucy hooked arms with Tatum and headed inside.
“The cider was totally a ploy.” Lucy laughed. “It’s hard to argue with her when she’s bringing you something to eat or drink. She’ll probably have them out there another hour.”
Tatum glanced back at the group, the three men stooping to hear whatever Mrs. Ryan was telling them. “Smart woman.”
Lucy nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, she loves to take care of people too. Especially her family.”
The word family had become somewhat bittersweet to Tatum in the last few months. Most people took their loved ones for granted. But knowing she didn’t have anyone was a very eye-opening experience. If and when she was ever lucky enough to find someone to love, she’d make sure they knew it every single day.
“I’m sorry about the divorce...about Brent being a cheating dickwad.” Lucy’s words ended her introspection. Her friend put the pot on the stove and hugged her. “God knows you’ve had more than your fair share of hurt.”
She nodded again, hugging her friend. “Wanna know something funny? It was hard to accept he’d cheated on me. But when I figured out who it was with, I was devastated.” She stepped back, pulling soup bowls from the cupboard. “Kendra is a couple of years younger than me, but not much. It’s just...she and I weren’t so different. I’d done everything he said he wanted to make him happy.” She shook her head. “It turns out he really wanted a smart, career-minded woman—exactly what I had been when we married. Apparently Kendra is also terrific in bed.” She shook her head. “Don’t ask. Apparently Brent wasn’t the first husband she tried to steal. Just the wealthiest.”
“Miss him?” Lucy asked.
Tatum shook her head. “No. And I don’t miss who I was when he was around.” She smiled. “It’s sort of liberating.”
“And now you’re free to explore other options—like Spencer.”
She definitely wanted more exploring time with Spencer. Tatum pulled silverware from the drawers to set the table. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
Lucy wrinkled her nose. “Nope. I’m not sure if it’s the psychologist thing, having two brothers that happen to be cops, or the working for the police department, but guys seem a little...hesitant to date me.”
Tatum looked at Lucy. She knew men looked at her friend—there was plenty to look at. Lucy was petite with killer curves and sassy pale blond curls. While they were both blonde, Lucy had a confidence Tatum had never felt. She remembered feeling invisible next to her in the halls of Greyson High School. Unless she was with Spencer. With Spencer, she’d felt special, beautiful and important.
“Their loss,” Tatum murmured. “Maybe we need a girls’ night? We can see what kind of prospects are out there.”
“Maybe.” Lucy shrugged. “Right now I’m happy to focus on my career.”
They chatted a bit longer, laughing over some of Lucy’s more memorable bad dates until Dean, Jared and Spencer joined them in the kitchen and sat at the table.
“Where’s Mrs. Ryan?” Tatum asked, ladling the stew into bowls.
“She only brought the cider to soften us up,” Jared explained.
“She wants us to redo the lights,” Spencer said.
Tatum looked at them. “Are you serious?”
The three of them nodded.
“Too many holes.” Spencer took the bowl she offered, smiling up at her. “I’ll just add a few more strands and it’ll be fine.”
Once everyone had stew and bread, she sat beside Spencer. His hand rested on her thigh, making her jump. She saw his grin out of the corner of her eye.
“We’re driving tonight, so you’re on your own,” Dean said between bites.
“Driving?” Tatum asked, trying not to think about Spencer’s hand moving slowly up the inside of her thigh.
“The whole town gets officially lit up tonight,” Jared said, reaching for more bread. “Some of us have been volunteered to drive the judges through town.”
“You volunteered?” Lucy’s surprise was evident.
“Well, maybe we were told to. After that snake-in-his-drawer thing, the captain wasn’t too happy, so...” Dean let the sentence hang there.
“You put a snake in your boss’s desk?” Tatum asked, spoon halfway to her mouth.
“It was a grass snake.” Jared shrugged.
“But he didn’t think it was funny,” Dean said.
“So they’re driving tonight,” Spencer finished.
“You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?” Tatum asked, arching a brow at Spencer.
He shook his head. “I tend to find ways to stay on the boss’s good side, not his shit list.”
They all laughed.
“Dean’s a regular,” Jared agreed.
Dean shrugged, his hazel gaze finding hers. “Guilty is as guilty does. And speaking of guilty, you have a chance to think over my little proposition?” He smiled.
Spencer’s hand tightened on her thigh.
Lucy almost choked on her stew before sounding off. “First, yuck, she’s my best friend and you’re my brother. And, two, even if she did decide she wanted to take you up on your offer, do you really think she’d do so with an audience?”
Dean shrugged. “I’m all about full disclosure.”
“How about we keep a little less disclosed,” Spencer said, tearing into his bread and glaring at his cousin.
“Anyway...” Lucy glanced back and forth between them. “I’ll be out in the cold, handing out maps for the light tour. I think I’d rather be driving around judges—at least you have heat.”
Tatum shivered. “I couldn’t do it.” If she was this cold now, she could only imagine how frigid it would be when the sun went down. “I can bring you emergency hot chocolate?”
Lucy laughed. “That’s okay. We set up in front of the fire station and they keep the hot chocolate and coffee coming. You can join me if you want? Didn’t want you to be all alone tonight.”
Tatum didn’t miss the small smile on Lucy’s face. Or the way Spencer’s hand squeezed her thigh ever so slightly. “Oh, I have plenty to keep me busy. I haven’t even started unpacking. Or cleaning out my bedroom. It seems strange for a divorced woman to be sleeping in a room with pom-poms.”
Dean chuckled.
“Why not move into the master bedroom?” Lucy asked.
It made sense. It was her house now. But she wrinkled her nose at the thought. “I know I’m not ready to go through my mom’s stuff. One thing at a time. Besides, I refuse to kick Spencer out until after the holidays. I’m not that heartless.”
There was a slight silence, Dean and Jared exchanged an odd look, and Lucy was grinning. She didn’t risk a look at Spencer.
Lucy nodded. “You’ve got time to make this place your own.”
Her own. But did she really want to stay in Greyson? One of the reasons Gretchen, her college roommate, had invited her to San Diego for Christmas was to talk about an employment opportunity. Gretchen’s family owned a finance and investment firm and, according to Gretchen, there was the perfect opening for Tatum.
Now was the time for trying new things, pushing her comfort boundaries and not passing up once-in-a-lifetime career opportunities. Even for great friends and amazing sex.
* * *
OVER THE YEARS, Spencer had wanted to punch Dean on more than one occasion. His cousin was good at finding his weakness and poking the shit out of it—until Spencer had enough. And right about now, Spencer had reached his limit with Dean’s outrageous flirting and open admiration of Tatum.
She was sitting beside him, her scent pure distraction. It took everything he had not to run his fingers along the side of her neck, to bury his nose there and press a kiss to the hollow of her throat. He wanted to make her breath hitch and her hands tighten in his hair...
“Don’t you think, Spencer?” Jared was asking.
He had absolutely no idea what Jared was talking about. But all four of them were looking at him, waiting for his answer. He had no choice. “About?”
Jared frowned at him. “New Year’s?”
Nope. That didn’t help at all. He waited, hoping like hell Jared would keep talking.
“Your brother’s wedding?” Jared looked concerned.
Lucy went on. “According to Zach, we can stay after.”
He glanced at Lucy, waiting. Why were they—
“Tatum’s invited and I’m trying to convince her to come. If anyone needs some R & R, it’s you, Tatum. Come on, we’ll have the best time,” Lucy pleaded.
He looked at Tatum. She was red-cheeked, clearly uncomfortable. Did she not want to go? Or...or was she thinking about the fact that their twelve days would be up by then? It might prove awkward to be in such close quarters after having such an intimate arrangement. But by then things wouldn’t be as...urgent as they were now. Maybe. Possibly. If they were, having her there would be a good thing.
But beyond his hunger for her, he knew she was alone and no one should be alone during the holidays. “You should,” he agreed.
“See,” Lucy said, squeezing her arm.
“Let me think about it,” Tatum said.
He glanced at the clock. It was almost two. He wanted to get the house done so he could take her on the lights tour. And then bring her back here and make her scream his name. He pushed back from the table, his abrupt movements making everyone jump. “Going back out,” he said, standing.
Dean and Jared looked at each other, then him.
“I’m not done,” Dean argued.
“Five more minutes isn’t going to hurt a thing,” Jared said.
“I didn’t say you had to come with me,” Spencer said. “Thanks for the stew, Tatum. It was delicious.”
She smiled up at him, her green eyes bright. “You’re welcome. Thank you for getting my—our—house up to judging standards.”
Our house. Her words jolted him. “My pleasure,” he said, winking at her before he hurried out of the kitchen. He liked what she’d said a little too much.
After finding more strands of white Christmas lights, he set about filling the holes his mother had found. And he tried his hardest not to let Dean and Jared lingering inside a hell of a lot longer than five minutes or the smile Dean wore when he did finally show up rub him the wrong way. Ever since they were kids, Dean liked to get a rise out of him. This was no different.
“Damn, she’s a good-looking woman,” Dean said, taking some of the lights from him. “Why the hell did you dump her again?”
Spencer glared at his cousin.
“Gotta kill you, man. To see all that, back here, out of your reach.” Dean sighed. “I feel for you.”
Jared laughed.
Spencer continued to glare at Dean. “She take you up on your offer?”
Dean smiled. “Not yet.”
“Then maybe she’s not out of my reach,” Spencer finished.
“Being roommates sure makes things cozy,” Jared said, glancing at his brother.
They had no idea. “We’ll see what happens,” Spencer said.
“Right.” Dean uncoiled some lights. “Or she might be over ancient history and want to try someone new. Like me.”
“You can try.” Spencer forced the words out, knowing his irritation was obvious but unable to do a damn thing about it.
But Spencer was the one staying tonight. He was the one who knew how to make her come apart at the seams and shatter in his arms. He knew how beautiful she looked when she climaxed. He turned back to the tree. But all he could think about was Tatum, the feel of her mouth on him...
“People are still talking about Wednesday night,” Jared said. “Everyone’s nervy.”
Spencer hadn’t given much thought to work. Clint Taggart was bad news. It was about time the department had given him more than a warning or improvement plan. Spencer believed in backing his squad, but he didn’t hold with putting the team in jeopardy. Which was exactly what Clint had done.
“You think Clint’s going to follow through on his threat?” Dean asked.
Spencer shook his head. “If he wants to bring trouble to my door, I’ll be ready and waiting.”
Jared snorted. “Dumbass got himself in the situation, period. He doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”
Which was true. Clint talked too much and too loudly. Which was a concern when you worked with undercover cops. As far as the department knew, no real damage had been done. Clint had drunk too much at a bar and mentioned a few names. Lucky for them, the bartender had been a source more than once and called Spencer. But, because Spencer had picked up Clint, Clint blamed Spencer for what happened next: Clint losing his job. And, before he left, Clint had threatened to beat the living daylights out of Spencer the next time their paths crossed.
“I’m not losing sleep over it,” Spencer said.
“He was pissed. And pissed people do stupid things. Like sharing confidential information to get even.” Jared looked at him.
Spencer paused, frowning. “I don’t like Clint but I don’t think he’d sell anyone on the team out.”
Dean shrugged. “Guess we’ll see.”
They didn’t talk much after that. Spencer couldn’t shake the unease in the pit of his stomach. He took risks every day. He didn’t need some asshole with a grudge getting him killed out of misplaced anger.
“Looks good to me,” Jared said, standing back.
“She can’t say there’s a light shortage,” Lucy said, as she walked outside to join them. “I’ve got to change and head to the fire station.”
Spencer kept his impatience in check, trying not to think about Tatum waiting for him inside. His cousins helped him collect his tools and clean up the yard before they climbed into Jared’s big black truck.
“You know she’s over you, right?” Dean asked, grinning at him.
Spencer flipped him off, making both his cousins laugh as they drove away. He drew in a deep breath of cold air and made his way up the walkway. He stomped the snow off his boots on her porch and slipped inside. “Tatum?” Spencer called out. Unless she was waiting for him in the shower again. That would warm things up.
“Kitchen,” she answered.
He headed into the kitchen. She had a large mixing bowl on the counter and a cookbook propped up. “What are you making?” he asked.
She turned, a smudge of flour on her nose. “Pizzelle.”
“Oh, pizzelle,” he said, then arched both brows. “What are pizzelle?”
She crossed the kitchen and threw her arms around his neck. “Yummy wafer cookies I have snowflake molds for. I thought I could make some for tomorrow night’s fund-raiser?” She touched his nose. “Your nose is red.” She was so pretty his heart thumped.
“It’s cold out there,” he said, pressing his hands to her cheeks.
She jumped, covering his hands with hers. “Your hands are freezing! Where are your gloves?”
“I took them off to mess with you.” He winked.
“I like it when you mess with me,” she answered.
His eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth cocking up. “I like it too.”
“Wanna help me make cookies?” she asked, swiping some cookie dough from the bowl and offering it to him on the tip of her finger.
He shook his head, sucking the dough off her finger and biting the tip. “I need to warm up.”
She nodded, unzipping his coat and tugging it off. She draped it over the back of the chair before unwinding the black scarf from around his neck. She laid it atop the coat and pulled a chair out. “Sit.”
He did, smiling as she turned and straddled his leg to pull his boot off. He had the most inviting view of her ass, hugged in tight jeans. When the second boot joined the first, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back onto his lap. His hands slid under the long black sweater she wore, the thrill of her flesh contracting beneath his fingers making him ache instantly.
His hands slid up, pausing when he encountered only smooth flesh. “You forgot your bra, Miss Buchanan.”
“No, I didn’t, Officer Ryan.” She arched into his hands.
He groaned, burying his nose at the base of her neck. “You’re soft as silk.”
She shivered, the rapid thrum of her heart evident beneath his palm.
“You can’t go out in public like this,” he groaned as his fingers worked her nipples into hard peaks.
“I’m going out?” she asked, breathless.
“Can’t miss the lights,” he said, resting his forehead between her shoulder blades. He could wait. He didn’t give a damn about the lights. But he wanted her to get out, to remember happier times and how good Greyson could be. “It’s a tradition. I wanted to drive you.”
She looked back over her shoulder. “I thought we were about sex. And sneaking around.”
“Okay, forget the lights,” he said, his hands cradling her breast more firmly. Not that he was going to let the subject drop altogether. Just for the next hour or so.
“Now I’ll feel guilty. You should go.” But she stood, faced him and straddled his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she kissed him. He let her lead, let her lips part his and her tongue stroke the inside of his lip. He shivered, his arms winding around her waist and anchoring her in place.
“You want me to go?” he rasped.
Her green eyes sparkled as she stared at him. She nodded, then shook her head. “First, we need to warm you up,” she purred, leaning forward to nip his earlobe.
He shivered as she sucked his earlobe into her mouth. She slipped from his hold and stood, pulling her shirt up and over her head and tossing it at him.
He caught it, soaking up the vision before him. “You’re a beautiful woman.”
“You don’t have to say that,” she said, an almost embarrassed tone to her voice.
He stood then, looking down at her. “It’s the truth, Tatum. You’re beautiful.”
She blushed, tearing her gaze from his as she took his hand and tugged him toward the bedroom. The creamy line of her back demanded he touch her. They made it to the hall before he pressed her against the wall, running the tip of his nose along the base of her neck and the ridge of her shoulder blade. His hands cupped her breast as he trailed wet, hot kisses down her back. She sagged, leaning into the wall as he gripped her hips and ground against her. She arched into him, robbing his lungs of air.
“Dammit,” he bit out, pulling her back against his chest and steering her into the bedroom.
She spun around, her parted lips latching on to his mouth. When his tongue slipped between her lips, he ground his hips against hers and bore her back onto the mattress.
“Spencer,” she breathed.
His fingers were quick and deliberate, sending her clothing to the corners of her room. But the sight of her breasts quaking, her nipples tight peaks and her skin flushed shook him to the core. His hands were shaking as he fumbled with his clothing. By the time he’d climbed between her legs, he had no control left.
He pinned her hands over her head and pressed the tip of his rock-hard—
“Tatum?” a voice called out. A familiar male voice.
They froze.
“Left my phone.”
“Is that Dean?” she whispered, the rosy hue of her skin draining as panic set in.
Yes, it was Dean.
And chances were the asshole had left his phone here on purpose so he could horn in on Tatum without an audience. Right now, so close to being wrapped in the heat of her body, he could give a rat’s ass if his cousin found them like this. It would serve the smug-faced bastard right. “I’m guessing you didn’t lock the door?” He smiled down at her, shifting his weight to remind her they’d been occupied.
She shook her head, breathless as she pushed against his chest. “Spencer,” she hissed.
He wanted to argue but she was already sliding out from under him and pulling on her robe. “Stay here. I mean it,” she whispered. Without looking back at him, she was gone. He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his heart hammering in his ears and his dick. The sight of her pom-poms made him smile.
* * *
TATUM TUGGED HER robe tight and walked into the living room. Dean stood, his cheeks red from the chill outside. When he saw her, his brows rose and his eyes widened. Yes, she was in her robe—with mussed hair when less than thirty minutes ago she’d been put together and civilized looking.
“You okay, Tatum?” He frowned as he looked down at her. “You look like you’ve been crying.”
She felt her cheeks flame under his inspection. Crying was the last thing on her mind. “Oh? No...no, I’m fine.”
“I know you’ve had a rough time of it,” Dean said. “If I need to go kick some ass, I’m happy to do it.”
“I appreciate the offer. But there’s no one I’d want you to waste your time on.” As long as Spencer stayed in bed. If he walked out...that might change.
His smile grew. “Then there’s no one worth you wasting tears on, either.”
His concern was sweet, even if the manly appreciation in his hazel gaze was a little overwhelming. All Dean was offering was a shoulder to cry on. While Spencer was lying in her bed...offering her his body. But nothing else. Not that she wanted anything else from him. From anyone, for that matter. She didn’t. No complications, no expectations. No pain.
Losing Spencer all those years ago had taught her never to let go of her whole heart. Maybe that was why her divorce from Brent hadn’t destroyed her. In a way, she should thank Spencer. But, with all the sex he was getting, she supposed she was.
“Tatum?” Dean asked, looking concerned.
She needed to snap out of it. “Sorry. You’re right. No tears,” she agreed.
“Good.” Dean winked at her, making her giggle. “And if you need distracting, give me a call.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She shook her head. “Did you find your phone?” she asked. She half expected Spencer to emerge any second—naked—just to stake a claim.
Dean held up his phone. “All good. I’m calling you now, so you’ll have my number.”
“Okay.” Not that she’d call him. She and Spencer had a sex-only understanding. But Lucy was her best friend. No way she’d mess that up by dating Dean. Besides, as gorgeous as he was, she wasn’t attracted to him like she was to Spencer. “Have fun tonight.”
“See you later, Tatum,” Dean said, before he left, pulling the door closed behind him.
Tatum counted to twenty before she locked the door and hurried back to her bedroom. She was amazed by how quickly her heart rate picked up. Her body seemed to rise, tighten, already sparking with the fire that gripped her moments before. Finding Spencer propped up on the pillows, the sheet resting low around his waist, was oil to her flame.
“He gone?” he asked, tossing a small heart-shaped pillow at her. “You two solve all the world problems or make your cookies while you were at it?”
She smiled. “I wasn’t gone that long.”
He cocked an eyebrow. And she leaned back against the wall, enjoying the view. His black hair was mussed, his jaw and chest dusted with a dark shadow. She could see the outline of one thigh beneath her sheet and the heavy length of his arousal. She swallowed, forcing her gaze back up to his. His blue eyes were blazing, and she stumbled over her next words. “Anticipation is a good thing.”
“Not as good as being buried inside of you,” he said, his voice rasping.
She exhaled slowly, a slight roar in her ears. He’d said that out loud, for her to hear. And from the look on his face, he meant it. Every muscle in her body tightened, clenching with pure need. “He’s gone,” she murmured.
“Come here,” he said, not moving.
Something about the rigid line of his jaw made her pause. He wanted her. Badly. And it was empowering. She took her time crossing the room, aware of him watching her hands as she fiddled with the tie of her robe. “It’s getting late,” she said.
“No, it’s not,” he argued.
“You said the lights were a tradition.” She stepped closer, transfixed by the way his body seemed ready to pounce.
“I’m in favor of making new traditions,” he said, low and husky. “Believe me.”
“Like making cookies?” she asked, teasing.
“Like getting you naked.”
She swallowed, excitement coiling in her belly. She could do this. She could be sexy and provocative. His barely restrained hunger gave her all the encouragement she needed. She untied the sash of her robe and let the fabric slide from her fingers. She stood at the side of the bed, just out of his reach.
But she wanted him to touch her. She wanted him to reach for her. So she shrugged out of the robe and waited. His eyes devoured her. Even without his hands on her, she felt the bold heat of his caress. She was so exposed like this. And in his eyes, she hoped, beautiful.
His hands fisted in the sheets at his side as she ran her hand along the column of her neck and across her shoulder. Her breathing picked up as her hand dipped lower, her fingertips sliding between her breasts and across her stomach.
The expression on his face hid nothing. He was a man on fire. For her. He tossed the sheet aside and slid to the edge of the bed, pulling her between his legs and pressing her tight against him. His mouth latched on to the tip of her breast, his lips and tongue stroking and licking until her nipple pebbled in his mouth.
Her fingers twined through his thick hair, holding him in place. When his teeth grazed her sensitized skin, she moaned. His lips moved along the swell of her breast and down her side. His tongue traveled around her hip. Somehow she ended up falling forward, her hands tangled in sheets. Spencer was behind her, exploring the plane of her back with his hands and mouth. He kissed the dip behind her knee. Nipped the curve of her ass. One long finger traced a slow path up the inside of her thigh.
With a growl, he clasped her hips in his hands and wrapped around her to suck her earlobe into his mouth. She felt him, the muscles of his chest against her back. The thick tip of his hard shaft against her, seeking entrance. She curved back, opening for him. And when he slid deep, she was done for. His hand slid across her stomach and between her legs. Calloused fingers worked their magic, the rough abrasion wreaking havoc on her tender, swollen flesh.
He shifted, standing at the bedside and pulling her back onto him. Strange noises spilled from her mouth, broken and low. Every time he moved, his hold tightened. It was the sweetest invasion, complete and absolute. Pushing her until she knew she’d split apart. And when his fingers found her again, she did. The desperate cry that tore from her startled her.
And then she was turning. Spencer’s rhythm barely paused. From stomach to back, he was inside her, still relentless. Still wonderful. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his chest. His jaw was clenched tight. And he was staring down between them, watching as he moved in and out of her. His hand traveled down, his fingers stroking her again, and she was crying out her release again.
When his eyes met hers, he tensed, thrusting once, then again, before he climaxed. He slumped forward, pressing her into the mattress and blanketing her with his strength and warmth. She lay there gasping, her body still tingling with delightful twinges.
Spencer was equally breathless, hissing as he slipped from her to lie at her side.
She glanced his way to find him looking at her. “What?”
He shook his head, his gaze never leaving her face. It was the look on his face that made her heart slow...before tripping over itself in an unsteady rhythm when the corner of his mouth curved into a crooked grin. She wanted him to make her body hum with pleasure, but that was all. Her heart was off-limits. She frowned.
His grin grew. “How about we grab a couple of burgers and go check out the lights?”
“I’ve got things to do,” she mumbled, deciding time alone, dressed and conversation focused were a bad idea.
He shook his head. “Well, you’re going to have to feed me before I can do anything.” His fingertips skated along her collarbone.
She smiled in spite of herself. “I wasn’t talking about you.” She shook her head. “I was talking about...”
He rolled over, rising up on one elbow. “About?”
“Unpacking.”
“Unpacking?” he prodded. “What about tomorrow?”
“I have the women’s auxiliary auction tomorrow night,” she said, unable to ignore the curve of his bicep.
“What else?” he asked, his finger trailing between her breast and along her ribs.
“Nothing,” she said, growing distracted by his teasing touch.
“So you can unpack tomorrow,” he said, leaning forward to suck her nipple into his mouth. His tongue was wicked, erasing her argument completely. “And we can get those burgers and check out the lights. By then, I’ll have enough energy to do whatever you want.”
That was an offer she wasn’t going to refuse.