A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe (25 page)

West gave her another once—twice—over as fire smoldered in his eyes. “Why would I tell you to change?” His voice dipped, nothing but smoke and gravel. “You and that dress are a fantasy come true.”

Uh, what the what now? Had Lincoln West just called her
a
fantasy
?

Almost can’t process...

“Maybe you should take me to the ER, West. I think I just had a brain aneurysm.” She rubbed her temples. “I’m hallucinating.”

“Such a funny girl.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, snatched her hand and while Monica called his name, dragged Jessie Kay to a small room in back. A cleaning closet, the air sharp with antiseptic. What little space was available was consumed by overstuffed shelves.

“When did you decide to switch careers and become a caveman?” she asked.

“When you decided to switch careers and become a femme fatale.”

Have mercy on my soul.

He released her to run his fingers through his hair, leaving the strands in sexy spikes around his head. “Listen. I owe you an apology for the way I’ve treated you in the past. The way I’ve acted today. I shouldn’t have manhandled you, and I’m very sorry.”

Her eyes widened. Seriously, what the heck had happened to this man? In five minutes, he’d upended everything she’d come to expect from him.

And he wasn’t done! “I’m sorry for every hurtful thing I’ve ever said to you. I’m sorry for making you feel bad about who you are and what you’ve done. I’m sorry—”

“Stop. Just stop.” She placed her hands over her ears in case he failed to heed her order. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

He gently removed her hands and held on tight to her wrists. “What’s happening? I’m owning my mistakes and hoping you’re in a forgiving mood.”

“You want to be my friend?” The words squeaked from her.

“I...do.”

Why the hesitation? “Here’s the problem. You’re a dog and I’m a cat, and we’re never going to get along.”

One corner of his mouth quirked with lazy amusement, causing a flutter to skitter through her pulse. “I think you’re wrong...kitten.”

Kitten
. A freakishly adorable nickname, and absolutely perfect for her. But also absolutely unexpected.

Oh, she’d known he’d give her one sooner or later. He and his friends enjoyed renaming the women in their lives. Jase always called Brook Lynn “angel” and Beck called Harlow everything from “beauty” to “hag,” her initials. Well, HAG prewedding. But Jessie Kay had prepared herself for “demoness” or the always classic “bitch.”

“Dogs and cats can be friends,” he said, “especially when the dog minds his manners. I promise you, things will be different from now on.”

“Well.” Reeling, she could come up with no witty reply. “We could try, I guess.”

“Good.” His gaze dropped to her lips, heated a few more degrees. “Now all we have to do is decide what kind of friends we should be.”

Her heart started kicking up a fuss all over again, breath abandoning her lungs. “What do you mean?”

“Text frequently? Call each other occasionally? Only speak when we’re with our other friends?” He backed her into a shelf and cans rattled, threatening to fall. “Or should we be friends with benefits?”

The tingles returned, sweeping over her skin and sinking deep, deep into bone. Her entire body ached with sudden need and it was so powerful it nearly felled her. How long since a man had focused the full scope of his masculinity on her? Too long and never like this. Somehow West had reduced her to a quivering mess of femininity and whoremones.

“I vote...we only speak when we’re with our other friends,” she said, embarrassed by the breathless tremor in her voice.

“What if I want all of it?” He placed his hands at her temples and several of the cans rolled to the floor. “The texts, the calls...and the benefits.”

“No?” A question? Really? “No to the last. You have a date.”

He scowled at her as if
she’d
done something wrong. “See, that’s the real problem, kitten. I don’t want her. I want you.”

* * *

W
EST
CALLED
HIMSELF
a thousand kinds of fool. He’d planned to apologize, return to the sanctuary, witness his friend’s wedding and start the countdown with Monica. The moment he’d gotten Jessie Kay inside the closet, her pecans-and-cinnamon scent in his nose, those plans burned to ash. Only one thing mattered.

Getting his hands on her.

From day one, she’d been a vertical g-force too strong to deny, pulling, pulling,
pulling
him into a bottomless vortex. He’d fought it every minute of every day since meeting her, and he’d gotten nowhere fast. Why not give in? Stop the madness?

Just once...

“We’ve been dancing around this for months,” he said. “I’m scum for picking here and now to hash this out with you, and I’ll care tomorrow. Right now, I think it’s time we did something about our feelings.”

“I don’t...” She began to soften against him, only to snap to attention. “No. Absolutely not. I can’t.”

“You
won’t.
”
But I can change your mind...

She nibbled on her bottom lip.

Something he would kill to do. So he did it. He leaned into her, caught her bottom lip between his teeth and ran the plump morsel through. “Do you want me, Jessie Kay?”

Her eyes closed for a moment, a shiver rocking her. “You say you’ll care tomorrow, so I’ll give you an answer then. As for today, I... I... I’m leaving.” But she made no effort to move away, and he knew. She did want him. As badly as he wanted her. “Yes. Leaving. Any moment now...”

Acting without thought—purely on instinct—he placed his hands on her waist and pressed her against the hard line of his body. “I want you to stay. I want you, period.”

“West.” The new tremor in her voice injected his every masculine instinct with adrenaline, jacking him up. “You said it yourself. You’re scum. This is wrong.”

Anticipation raced denial to the tip of his tongue, and won by a photo finish. “Do you care?” He caressed his way to her ass and cupped the perfect globes, then urged her forward to rub her against the long length of his erection. The woman who’d tormented his days and invaded his dreams moaned a decadent sound of satisfaction and it did something to him. Made his need for her
worse
.

She wasn’t what he should want, but somehow she’d become everything he could not resist, and he was tired, so damn tired, of walking, hell, running away from her.

“Do you?” he insisted. “Say yes, and
I’ll
be the one to leave. I don’t want you to regret this.” He wanted her desperate for more.

She looked away from him, licked her lips. “Right at this moment? No. I don’t care.” As soft as a whisper.

Triumph filled him, his clasp on her tightening.

“But tomorrow...” she added.

Yes. Tomorrow. He wasn’t the only one who’d been running from the sizzle between them, but today, with her admission ringing in his ears, he wasn’t letting her get away. One look at her, that’s all it had taken to ruin his plans. Now she would pay the price. Now she would make everything better.

“I
will
regret it,” she said. “This is a mistake I’ve made too many times in the past.”

Different emotions played over her features. Features so delicate he was consumed by the need to protect her from anything and anyone...but himself.

He saw misery, desire, fear, regret, hope and anger. The anger concerned him. This Southern belle could knock a man’s testicles into his throat with a single swipe of her knee. Even still, West didn’t walk away.

“For all we know, the world will end tomorrow. Let’s focus on today. You tell me what you want me to do,” he said, nuzzling his nose against her cheek, “and I’ll do it.”

More tremors rocked her. She traced her delicate hands up his tie and gave the knot a little shake, an action that was sexy, sweet and wicked all at once. “I want you...to go back to your date. You and I, we’ll be friends as agreed, and we’ll pretend this never happened.” She pushed him, but he didn’t budge.

His date. Yeah, he’d forgotten about Monica before Jessie Kay had mentioned her a few minutes ago. But then, he’d gotten used to forgetting everything whenever the luscious blonde entered a room. Everything about her consumed every part of him, and it was more than irritating, it was a sickness to be cured, an obstacle to be overcome and an addiction to be avoided. If they did this, he would suffer from his own regrets, but there was no question he would love the ride.

He bunched up the hem of her skirt, his fingers brushing the silken heat of her bare thigh. Her breath hitched, driving him wild. “You’ve told me what you
think
you should want me to do.” He rasped the words against her mouth, hovering over her, not touching her but teasing with what could be. “Now tell me what you really want me to do.”

Navy blues peered up at him, beseeching; the fight drained out of her, leaving only need and raw vulnerability. “I’m only using you for sex—said no guy ever. But that’s what you’re going to do. Isn’t it? You’re going to use me and lose me, just like the others.”

Her features were utterly
ravaged
, and in that moment, he hated himself. Because she was right. Whether he took her for a single night or every night for two months, the end result would be the same. No matter how much it hurt her—no matter how much it hurt
him
—he would walk away.

Don’t miss a single story in

THE ORIGINAL HEARTBREAKERS
series:

“THE ONE YOU WANT” (novella)

THE CLOSER YOU COME

THE HOTTER YOU BURN

THE HARDER YOU FALL

Available now from Gena Showalter
and HQN Books!

Copyright © 2015 by Gena Showalter

ISBN-13: 9781460386217

A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe

Copyright © 2015 by Vicki Lewis Thompson

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