Chapter 14
Gabe knew he’d heard her exactly right. No matter that her voice had cracked, no matter that she looked like a panicked bird, he knew exactly what she had said.
Much more than that, he understood that she meant it. It was certainly no secret at this point that they wanted each other. The problem was in the complications. Unfortunately, when it came to complications, he couldn’t let his dick lead.
“Bad idea,” he managed to say, though his voice was still as strangled as it had been when he’d made the first attempt to leave. As though his throat were fighting against everything his brain needed it to do.
“Why? I know you’re not naive enough to misread my invitation. I thought it was against guy code to turn down sex with an unattached, willing woman.”
“Monica, I’m…I’m a bad bet.”
Her eyebrows drew together, and she studied him. Maybe because of everything she’d said earlier, or maybe because he was this close to having all of her, he didn’t see it as he usually did. Not a predatory, under-the-microscope analysis so she could unravel his psyche. Simply a woman trying to understand a man’s cryptic statement.
“I guess that depends on what the bet is,” she said softly.
All that softness was way too tempting. “Look.” He swallowed because he needed a moment to remind himself why he was being noble here. He wasn’t a particularly noble guy. Not like Alex. Not like Jack. If he’d had a noble impulse in him, it had been eradicated long before he’d joined the navy. Though he supposed the military had given him a certain sense of what was right and what was wrong.
Hurting Monica would be wrong and, more, he wasn’t sure he could live with himself if he did hurt her.
“Look,” he repeated, finding his voice again. “Obviously I’m attracted to you and would like to…” Jesus. He’d never had trouble talking frankly. Why was he now? “Stay,” he finished lamely. “But there are a million complications and even if I had the wherewithal to work through them, the bottom line is: I’m not like Jack or Alex. I’m not looking for my happily ever after. I don’t want to settle down. I don’t want to have kids. I don’t want to build some…life. I don’t want those things, and I figure someone like you probably will.”
“I guess I wouldn’t rule it out,” she said slowly, as if mulling that all over very carefully. “But I can’t say I’ve ever spent much time hoping for those things. I did settle down, and I did have kids. I’ve loved and lost, and I can’t say I’m too keen to do it again. But even if I wanted to want those things or started wanting those things, I couldn’t go after them. At least not with you.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to demand what the hell was wrong with him that she wouldn’t, but that was stupid, considering he’d just told her he didn’t want those things.
“In a couple weeks, we are going to have two former soldiers here,” she continued. “My job is to be an on-site therapist. I can’t be in a relationship with you. Do you have any idea how bad that would look? What kind of respect could they possibly have for me if I was sleeping with another former soldier working here? I know how men think. Even if I didn’t… The point is, I’m not looking for something permanent. I’m not looking for settling down. I like my life. I love my job. I haven’t had sex in a decade, and I’m attracted to you, and here you are in my house. So I don’t know why, for the next week or so, we couldn’t…you know, do that.”
“That,” he repeated.
“Yes, that. In fact, keep your gift card. Sex will be our Christmas gifts to each other.”
It shocked a laugh out of him. Why it did or that she could was beyond him, but he laughed nonetheless, and enjoyed the pleased expression on her face far too much. Which at least sobered him some. “You don’t think it’ll be a little awkward to go back to the way things were after we’ve seen each other naked?”
“Of course it’ll be awkward,” she said with a hand gesture and a pretty pink blush staining her cheeks. “It’ll be painfully awkward in every way. But you already kissed me. Either you’re a much better person than me or you’ve gone ahead and pictured me naked. So, awkward no matter what. Why not get something out of it? It’s been an awful long time since I’ve gotten something for me out of anything.”
“So, you’re suggesting we have sex. No strings attached, temporary sex.”
“Yes. In fact, Christmas can be the cut-off date. We won’t have any physical contact after Christmas. It will be out of our system, and should anything linger, well, there’s always next Christmas.”
“You’re proposing a Christmas sex deal.”
She lifted her chin, and though her expression was serious, there was a certain mocking curve to her mouth. “I am. Are you accepting the Christmas sex deal?”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“We stop saying ‘Christmas sex deal.’”
She laughed, and he’d have been lying to himself if he didn’t admit that sound did something to him. Not a sexual something—a deeper and far more dangerous something. He wanted to make her laugh again and again, and he couldn’t let himself fall for that kind of bullshit fantasy.
She held out her hand between them. “Deal?”
He looked at her outstretched hand. She had long, elegant fingers, but there were bits of flour and dough stuck in the lines of her hand. He wasn’t sure why he noticed it or why that flipped over in his chest like something important. So he denied it. He slipped his hand into hers and then gave her arm a little jerk so that she stumbled forward and into him.
She looked up at him, big, blue eyes swirling with surprise and desire. Much like the other night, he wanted to stretch out the moment where she was something like at his mercy. Looking up and waiting for him to make the move. Where he was in control of every breath she took.
“I-I don’t think anyone should know,” she stammered.
It hurt. No matter that it shouldn’t. “I don’t keep secrets from Alex or Jack.”
That shock and stuttery nervousness faded into something soft. “Oh, Gabe. You keep secrets from everyone.”
Somehow that hurt more—that she could see it. That she didn’t seem angry or put out about it, just sad. He didn’t know what to do with sad. He didn’t know what to do with the truth. So he did what he always did. Went on the offensive.
“Any more silly rules you want to lay down?” he asked with one of his too-sharp smiles that had him coming to the uncomfortable realization that he might use his charm and irritation as his own armor. A barrier between people and his heart and the truth because he didn’t know what to do with either. Even less with the people who might be able to see them.
But it was too uncomfortable a thought when Monica’s hand was in his and her body was so near. This woman wanted to have sex with him. Temporarily.
What did feelings matter? What did truths matter? He wanted her, and he was going to have her.
“Just one. I don’t want you to lie to me. You have your secrets, Gabe, and I won’t press on those. But I won’t have your lies.”
“I’m not a liar,” he returned stiffly.
“Everyone’s a little bit of a liar. Whether we know it or not. We lie to protect ourselves, and we lie to make the world around us makes sense. You can lie to yourself any way you want. You can lie to everyone in the world. But for the next week, I need you to tell me the truth. No matter how uncomfortable the truth is.”
There was a split second where he actually considered walking away. He didn’t want to promise her anything. He didn’t want anyone even mentioning his secrets. Most of all, he didn’t want the earnestness in those pretty blue eyes of hers. The way the vulnerability seemed to leak out of her when she let go.
He’d only ruin that. Hurt it. He always hurt vulnerable things.
But she moved onto her toes and brushed her soft mouth against his, a quick, light touch. Then the moment was gone, and all he could think about was her, naked beneath him. Finally getting her any which way she chose.
“So, are you staying?” she asked, as though there was a question.
“I’m staying.”
* * *
Monica wanted to laugh. Hysterically. Not because it was funny, but because she was giddy at the prospect. His big hand still held hers, and it was scarred and calloused and rough. It would be on her. Naked her. And he would be naked.
Jeez.
“I bought condoms,” she blurted out.
She got another one of those eyebrow-raised looks where he didn’t say anything, just stared at her in surprise. Why she got such a kick out of surprising him was beyond her. Maybe it was because she was so used to not surprising anyone with anything other than her insights into their life, which were never as impressive as the person seemed to think. She wasn’t magic. She just paid attention.
“Planned this, did you?”
“Well, I didn’t plan you coming here. I was just alone in a store. You’ll never understand the sheer joy of a mother being alone in a store. No kid whining or begging or complaining. And suddenly I was in the condom aisle.”
“Suddenly?”
“Well, technically I was buying tampons, if you really want to know.” When he grimaced, she laughed. “Men are so predictable. Anyway, it seemed like a smart thing to have. Along with the ingredients to make ten different kinds of Christmas cookies on the off chance I lost my nerve and didn’t use said condoms.”
“You know, I can’t figure you out. You seem like a reasonable, rational person and then I come to your house that looks like Christmas threw up everywhere and you wax poetic about being alone in a store.”
She would have fisted her hands on her hips, but he was still holding her hand, holding her close. Much like that moment in the barn the other night. The way he’d stretched out those seconds of thrumming attraction until she hadn’t been able to take it anymore.
She liked that—the way the anticipation wound so hard and so tight it felt like she’d explode. But she had to admit she was a little ready to explode.
She stepped even closer, so their knees and chests brushed, so she had to tip her head back a smidge to maintain eye contact. “And how would you decorate for Christmas?”
His eyes were dark and fathomless, and that wide, expressive mouth of his curved. “I wouldn’t.”
“Even if you had a little boy you were in charge of?”
“Okay, throw a Christmas tree in the corner. Voila. Christmas.”
She sighed disapprovingly and shook her head, and still they stood too close and too far apart all at the same time. That dark gaze of his studied her as if looking for some magic key to something, and she had the sad, silly thought she wanted to find it for him.
“You sure about this?”
“Do I strike you as the type of woman who buys condoms and has sex on a whim?” She cocked her head, angling her mouth closer to his jaw. “Are you sure about this?”
For a man who seemed solitary, alone, and maybe even a little sad sometimes, he had a dozen different smiles. That was his own armor, she supposed, but she liked this smile. The one that wasn’t blank underneath, and the only sharpness to it was intent. The rest was enjoyment, and she wanted to be the source of that for reasons she hadn’t worked out yet.
But the want was there, and he was here. His mouth touched hers, and Lord, he was a patient man. All gentle pressure, the slowest releasing of her hand before his found her waist, found her neck, drew her closer and closer a millimeter at a time.
She sighed against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to draw his tongue across her lower lip. It exploded through her, hot and bright and a little scary—but the kind of scary a person could never quite resist.
“Hell,” he muttered. And then it was like the world ignited. Nothing but heat and the soaring notes to “O Holy Night,” which might have been sacrilegious, but she didn’t care. Not when Gabe’s mouth streaked across hers, not when his arms banded around her, holding her so close she could feel every flex of every impressive muscle in his body. Arms, abs, thighs.
Hell was right. Because how could she do anything but give into this and him, and she was not used to giving in. It was like leaping off a cliff and free-falling, having no idea when and if she’d land, and how many broken bones she might suffer if she survived at all.
But underneath all that fear was the steady thrum of a pleasure so big and wide she didn’t care about the landing. She only cared that she got more of it.
She managed to create enough distance between their bodies to slide her palms up his stomach and find all that hard, rangy muscle. He scraped his teeth against her lips, and her legs nearly buckled at how much more she wanted than this.
Then his arms were loosening, and somehow his mouth was off hers. She let out a sound of protest, but she swiftly swallowed it when he reached behind his head and pulled his T-shirt off.
“Oh.”
“Was that another wow?” he asked with that razor-sharp grin that she wanted to taste, then learn how to soften.
“I said ‘oh’ this time,” she replied primly. Or as prim as she could be with her cheeks on fire and a low pulse of oh, please, God thrumming deep inside of her.
“So…” He moved close to her again, his fingers curling under the edge of her flour-dusted T-shirt. “You admit you said wow when we kissed the other night?” he murmured right next to her ear.
She very nearly giggled, but she covered it up by clearing her throat. “Maybe.”
He pulled her shirt up slowly, that obnoxiously wonderful patience he had where it seemed like minutes before it was over her head and she was standing in front of him in her plain, serviceable bra. She might have wished for lace if not for the way his eyes raked over her like she was some sort of prize. As though when he looked at her it affected him just as much as her looking at him affected her.
He reached out, those big hands enveloping her shoulders, then moving down her arms, trailing goose bumps in their wake. Her breathing was too quick and too shallow, but she couldn’t get her brain to send the chill message to her lungs.
Colin hugged her so rarely these days, and Mom and Dad were so far away and just not super demonstrative, and it was such an aching thing to be reminded how much she missed being touched. A hug. A caress. A kiss. For so incredibly long, she’d just had to do without, and she probably would again after Christmas.
But for here and now, there was a man who wanted to share his body with her, and she wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t ruin this precious time. She would indulge in every last aspect of it, memorize it maybe, and it would get her through the next.
She launched herself at him. Wrapped her arms around him, kissed him as deep and wild as she could. She arched against him, desperate for more, and he groaned into her mouth, the sound rumbling through her like an earthquake.
“Which way?” he asked breathlessly.
It took her a few moments to figure out what he meant. “Oh, well. I sleep on the couch.”
“You…what?”
“It pulls out.”
He frowned down at her. “You sleep on a pullout couch?”
“It’s a one-bedroom cabin. I figured since I was the one who made him move here, Colin could have his own bedroom.”
“And you sleep on a pullout couch.”
“It’s practical. Who are you to talk? You sleep in bunk beds.”
“I do not sleep in bunk beds. I sleep in a bunkhouse.”
“That is filled with bunk beds.”
“Okay. Fine. We both have ridiculous sleeping situations.” He stalked over to the couch and started tossing the cushions off. “We can discuss it later.”
Monica crossed to the couch, pulling the handle so that the bed unfolded into the space of the living room.
She undid the button of her jeans and started to push them down her legs. “We’ll discuss it much later.”
He grinned, doing the same. “Much.”