Christmas in His Bed Page 12

  Lucy’s brows rose. “Do tell. Was he crooked?”

  “He was small. He was a straight-missionary, lay-there-quietly and no-cuddling-after sort of guy.”

  Lucy frowned. “Well, that’s just sad. But didn’t you sleep with him before you were married?”

  “He wanted to be traditional. I was fine with it. I thought it was sweet.”

  “My sex life sounds better than yours,” Lucy offered.

  “I thought you weren’t seeing anyone?”

  “I’m not,” Lucy said. “Still better.”

  Tatum burst out laughing.

  “I am sorry, Tatum. I know...” She paused. “I know Spencer hurt you. If he hadn’t, I think you two would already be married.”

  “Probably,” she agreed. The few times she’d let herself go there, it had been pretty idyllic. A dream versus a reality. “But that doesn’t mean we’d be happy.”

  “Why wouldn’t you be?” Lucy argued. “You were. So was he.”

  “If he’d been happy with me, he wouldn’t have dumped me.” She cleared her throat. “Not that I want a relationship right now—I don’t. At all. But later, much, much later, I’m hoping that whole third-time’s-a-charm thing applies to me.”

  Lucy hugged her. “Me too, Tatum. Me too.”

  At least Spencer hadn’t made it awkward this morning. Okay, waking up to an empty bed was hard, but she hadn’t had to worry about facing conversations or feelings, doubts or worries where Spencer was concerned.

  Instead of overanalyzing things—again—she’d sat up and taken a look around what had been her parents’ bedroom. Spencer, or someone, had done some major work in the space. The horrible wallpaper was gone. The shag carpet pulled up to reveal wood floors. It was lovely. As was the master bath.

  Which made her wonder what the rest of the house could look like.

  “Change of subject, but I’ve been thinking about the whole home-office thing—”

  “You have?” Lucy interrupted.

  “The house needs some work.” Tatum nodded.

  “If you and Spence decide to keep your hands off one another for a day, I’d be happy to come over and help you with the house.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” Tatum smiled. “I’ve never really had the chance to make a space my own. I think it could be fun.” And it would increase the house’s resale value.

  “Are we talking the whole house? Not just turning your bedroom into a fully functional office space?” Lucy’s smile grew at Tatum’s nod. “I’m so excited.”

  Tatum stood in the middle of her bedroom, staring at the lavender walls, the tacked-up pictures and remaining high school memorabilia. She’d started pulling things down and boxing them away but it was depressing as hell. An emotion she was trying to avoid.

  “This room makes more sense as an office.” Lucy opened the blinds on the two windows. “Behind this is an exterior door?” She tapped on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.

  Tatum nodded. Her mother had it sealed from the outside, but surely that wouldn’t be too big a fix? She could put in a stone path directly to the office so it was separate from the rest of the house. And the large windows offered a gorgeous view of a greenbelt. In a few months, the fields would be covered with vibrant bluebonnets, touches of red and yellow and pink.

  Tatum said, “I can almost see it.”

  “That’s the first step, then. Visualization is a solid step toward implementation.” She giggled. “We need to go to the hardware store and look at paint samples too. I think a sleepover might be required. S’mores, wine, architecture magazines. Maybe a movie too?”

  “I like it,” Tatum replied. “Just promise me no chick flicks and I’m in.”

  Lucy nodded. “How about action flicks with shirtless hot guys?”

  “Deal.”

  9

  SPENCER SHIFTED THE large Crock-Pot he’d picked up for the happy couple and opened the door of Tucker House.

  “You look wiped,” Zach said, giving him a one-armed hug.

  “Skeleton crew means extra hours,” he said, hugging Bianca. “You look pretty.”

  Bianca smiled. “Thank you, Spencer.”

  “Where’s the happy couple?” he asked, assessing the crowd. Chances were he could put in an appearance and sneak out. He needed sleep. He’d been called in to work and left Tatum sleeping, warm and soft in his bed. Leaving her was that much harder knowing he had five days before their twelve days were up.

  Hell, he could sleep later.

  “Library, I think,” Bianca said.

  He nodded, shifting the box again, and headed toward the library. The last year had been all about weddings and everything leading up to it. He was getting pretty damn comfortable with the B and B that housed many of their events.

  The first person he saw was Patton. And he looked like he could use a drink. Spencer deposited his gift on a table already stacked high with presents and went to the bar. But bumping into Tatum, having her fall into him, almost made him drop the two longnecks he was carrying.

  “Sorry,” she said, her hands resting on his chest.

  His arms had wrapped around her, to stop her from falling to the floor. “Nice catching up with you.”

  She rolled her eyes, smiling broadly. “Was that a pun?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “It was pretty bad.” She looked at his arms, still anchored around her waist. “I’m good.”

  He leaned forward. “The best,” he whispered in her ear. He let go of her, but not before he’d felt the shiver that racked her.

  Her eyes fastened on his, then on his mouth. Good.

  He winked at her and headed toward his brother, hoping he looked cool, calm and unaffected by the brush of her curves and sweetness of her scent.

  “Beer?” he asked Patton, offering him the bottle.

  “Way to make an entrance.” Patton took the beer and drank deeply.

  “You look like you’re having a great time, bro,” Spencer retorted.

  Cady looked at Patton and laughed. “You want to cut and run?”

  “Only if you’re coming with me,” Patton said.

  She took his hand in hers. “Nope. You’re stuck right here. But I promise I’ll make it up to you later.”

  “Hey, hey.” Spencer made a show of covering his ears. “Little brother here.”

  Patton laughed.

  Cady was looking at him, curiously. “So, little brother, I have a question for you.”

  “Here we go.” Patton took another sip of his beer.

  “Shoot,” Spencer said, searching the crowd for any sign of Tatum.

  “You love her?” Cady asked.

  He looked at his almost sister-in-law. “Straight for the jugular, huh?”

  “That’s Cady,” Patton murmured.

  “And you adore me.” Cady smiled up at her fiancé.

  Patton nodded, looking at Cady in a way that made Spencer slightly uncomfortable. “I sure as hell do,” he said in a gruff voice.

  “I’d tell you to get a room, but...” Spencer teased.

  Cady glared at him. “Patton says she’s the one.”

  Patton groaned.

  “He does?” Spencer glared at his brother. “Did he tell you I messed it up?”

  She nodded. “You were pretty much the biggest asshole ever, from what I’ve gathered. But things like confessions and apologies make a difference. So does hearing ‘I love you.’”

  He swallowed. “She doesn’t want a relationship.”

  Patton and Cady both looked at him.

  “She’s saying that because she’s scared,” Cady assured him. “Wouldn’t you be? Both the men she committed to dumped her.”

  He didn’t say anything.
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  “Is she what you want?” Patton asked.

  He nodded.

  “What are we talking about?” Zach joined them. “It looks serious.”

  “Your brother and Tatum,” Cady offered.

  “Okay.” Zach nodded. “I need a drink.”

  Spencer laughed. “Conversation’s over, don’t worry.” He smiled at Patton and Cady. “Congrats, guys. I’m really happy for you. And I appreciate your concern.”

  He excused himself and wandered into the billiard room, populated entirely by men. He took off his jacket and waited for the next game to start. But sitting in the large leather recliner in the corner, a warm fire crackling, the sounds of the party muffled by the thick wooden doors, wasn’t a good idea. He was nodding off when the doors opened.

  “Told you,” Dean said, slapping Jared on the shoulder.

  “Hiding out?” Jared asked.

  Spencer shrugged. “Figured I’d wait to play.”

  When the table cleared, they jumped up, racked up the balls and rolled up their sleeves. On the second round, Dean was chalking his pool cue when he said, “Let’s make this interesting.”

  Jared chuckled. “I was waiting.”

  Spencer frowned. “Now what?”

  “I win, I get to kiss Tatum under the mistletoe. You win, you do,” Dean suggested.

  Spencer’s frown grew. “No.”

  “I could just do it,” Dean said. “This way I’m giving you a chance to stop me.”

  Spencer sighed. Knowing Tatum, she’d let him kiss her on the cheek. Dean was already getting what he wanted: Spencer’s reaction. “Fine.” He forced the word out.

  Spencer lost.

  As Dean grinned at him, Spencer shrugged him off. His cousin didn’t need to know that he wanted to punch him in the face.

  “Come on, boys, they’re about to cut the cake,” his mother said, poking her head in the door. “Honestly, it’s your brother’s engagement party not a pool hall.” She ducked back out, leaving the door wide.

  But Spencer lingered, putting the table back to rights before reluctantly heading into the library. It took seconds to find her. Her hair fell over one shoulder, one hand holding a glass of white wine, the other resting on her lap. She was talking to an older gentleman, her hand lifting to emphasize the point she was making. The man said something in return and they both smiled.

  She was beautiful.

  “Hey,” Lucy said, nudging him. “You’re staring.”

  “Yep,” he said. Because she was beautiful.

  “Stop,” she said, giggling.

  “Do I have to?” he asked, glancing at her with a smile.

  “How’s work?” she asked.

  “I won’t be visiting your couch anytime soon.” He sighed. “But there’s still no word on Clint Taggart. Gotta feel for his wife and kids.”

  “How long has he been gone?” Lucy asked.

  “Five days. Maybe six. His wife thought he’d gone on assignment. She didn’t know he’d lost his job.” He finished his beer. Not knowing had to suck. “Anything new with you?”

  “Nope. Spending most of my free time with Tatum.” She paused. “Like you. Only without the sex and nakedness.”

  He almost choked on his beer.

  “No judging here. Two consenting adults. All good.” Lucy took a sip of her wine.

  “Um. Thanks?” he said. “When did all the women in this family decide they could say whatever they wanted whenever they wanted?”

  Lucy looked up at him. “You’ve been talking to Cady, haven’t you?”

  He shook his head. “Everyone has an opinion.”

  “Because we all want you happy,” Lucy said.

  His attention returned to Tatum. She was looking at him, her green eyes wide. She smiled at him and his heart thudded in his chest.

  “Oh my God!” Cady’s voice drew his attention. “This is too much, you guys,” Cady continued, jumping up to hug Bianca and Zach.

  Patton was reading the card, surprise clear on his face. “Two weeks in Italy?”

  Spencer chuckled. “I got them pots.”

  Lucy laughed. “I got them towels. But they’re very nice towels.”

  “Sheets,” Tatum added as she walked over, laughing. “Embroidered, Egyptian cotton.”

  “Nice,” he said, beyond pleased that she’d joined them.

  “But Italy, wow.” She shook her head.

  “I know,” Lucy agreed. “Talk about a honeymoon.”

  “Excuse me,” Tatum said, slipping from the room.

  He watched her go.

  “Go on,” Lucy said, pushing him toward the door with a smile.

  * * *

  TATUM SMILED AT the bartender as he filled her glass. “Thank you.” She sat at the bar, scanning the empty dining room. Everyone was in the library. The quiet was a nice change.

  “Not a fan of crowds?”

  She heard Spencer’s voice and smiled into her glass. She’d known he’d follow her. Wasn’t that why she’d let him know she was leaving? “It was getting a little stuffy in there.” She glanced at him, sitting on the bar stool next to her.

  “Spencer.” He held his hand out.

  She hesitated, her brows arching. “Tatum?” So he wanted to play games? Fine. Bring it. Anticipation settled hot and sweet in the pit of her stomach.

  “You sound like you’re not sure.” The gravel of his voice drove her crazy.

  “Sorry, I...I thought we’d met before?” She waited but he just smiled at her. “Guess I had you confused with someone else.” He was too good-looking, too intense. He looked at her like she was naked. She felt naked.

  He shook his head. “I’d remember you.”

  She smiled slightly, buzzing with pure lust.

  “Who?” he asked, his gaze fastened on her mouth.

  “Who what?” she asked.

  “Who did you think I was?”

  She smiled. “This guy I’m sleeping with.”

  “Lucky guy,” he said, still staring at her mouth.

  Lucky her. Spencer was an incredible lover. “I was hoping he’d come tonight,” she said, breathless.

  “Why?” he asked. His gaze crashed into her.

  “I’ve been thinking about him,” she managed. She could do this. “He...he’s really good with his hands.”

  He slammed his beer bottle down on the counter, making the bartender look up from his ledger at the end of the counter. She turned toward Spencer, away from the bartender, nervous enough without an audience.

  “Just his hands?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “And his mouth.”

  Spencer slid off his stool, standing so close heat rolled off of him. His hand rested on her knee, sliding beneath the wool of her skirt. His fingers slid higher, finding the edge of her stockings. He closed his eyes, his jaw locking hard. His fingers slid around, finding the silky straps of her garter belt. “Wear this for him?” he asked, so rough she shivered.

  She nodded, knowing their behavior was reckless but beyond caring. She’d never ached like this before, never worried she’d lose control so easily. “Think he might like it?” she asked, slipping forward on the stool, forcing his hand higher.

  His breath tickled her ear. “I need you. Now,” he growled, pressing her hand along the zipper of his slacks. Her fingers stroked his rigid length, making him swallow.

  His fingers dipped higher and then he froze.

  She wasn’t wearing any panties.

  “Dammit all to hell, Tatum,” he muttered.

  She moaned softly, turning her face into his neck as her fingers explored his impressive girth. She stroked him, again and again, wishing he was buried inside her—

  “Don’t,” he growled, gra
bbing her hand and tugging her off the bar stool.

  “Here.” She pressed a room key into his hand.

  The shock on his face was pure victory. For a split second she thought he’d kiss her now. She wanted him to. Even knowing someone could walk in any second. She walked from the bar, knowing he’d follow, knowing he was just as eager to get to the room as she was.

  When they reached the door, he fumbled with the lock. Once the door swung open, his hands were on her. She heard the door slam as he pressed her against the heavy wood. He stared down, yanking her skirt up around her waist to reveal her satin garters and no panties. His broken curse, almost a plea, made her weak.

  “Look at me,” he growled, his knee nudging her legs apart.

  She did, her breath escaping in short gasps.

  He kissed her, his tongue invading her mouth as two long fingers sunk deep inside of her. She rocked back on her heels, tilting to take more. His thumb found her, stroking her, driving her mad. Her head fell back against the door as her body surrendered. Her hands clutched his arm, riding his hand, his fingers, lost to the stroke of his thumb. She was trembling, convulsing around his fingers. She shook her head, drowning in him.

  He kissed her, latching on to her lower lip.

  His thumb grazed her sweetly tortured flesh and she climaxed. She buried her face against his chest, muffling her scream as best she could.

  When her trembling eased, his fingers left her.

  She opened her eyes to watch him back up, slipping his tie free. He was gasping, his chest heaving as he stared at her exposed body. She steadied herself and moved forward, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall on the floor. She tugged her sweater off, striding toward him.

  She tore his shirt open, mindless of the buttons that popped and bounced across the room. When his chest was bare, her lips descended. His taste, his scent, stoked her already raging hunger. Without thought, she unbuttoned his pants, sighing as her hands pushed the fabric down. She cupped his ass, raking her nails along his skin.

  He shivered, gripping her arms and tugging her close.

  She kissed him, opening her mouth for him. His tongue was magic, fierce and demanding, greedy—the way she wanted him. His fingers fumbled with the closure of her bra before he cupped her exposed breast in his large hands. She leaned into him, embracing the frenzy of want between them.