It Must Have Been the Mistletoe... (15 page)

“S
EX TOYS?”

Rita tried not to giggle as she counted her cash. Tyler had been repeating that same phrase for the past half hour. Over and over and over. You'd think the guy had never seen a plastic rainbow cock ring before.

“Do you have a personal or moral issue with pleasure aids?” she asked, tucking her tongue in her cheek as she noted the sold prices on her inventory list. Woot! She wouldn't starve on the drive home. Not too shabby considering only three of the people she'd texted had shown up. She'd sold more to the guys in the bike shop than anyone else. Maybe that's why Tyler was freaking.

“You said this was for your parents,” he accused.

“My parents have sex.”

“With toys?”

“How would I know?” Rita set her papers aside and gave him a curious look. “Are you one of those people who think the 'rents don't do the deed? Don't you think your mom gets her happy on from time to time?”

His wince was almost as intense as his glare.

“Don't.” He ground out the word. “Do not go there.”

Rita giggled. He was so cute when he got all stiff-faced and protective.

“Don't worry, I'm pretty sure I heard rumor of immaculate conception where you were concerned,” she consoled. Tyler rolled his eyes but couldn't disguise his grin. She reached over to pat his thigh. She'd intended the gesture to be friendly.

Instead she felt she'd singed her fingers. Quickly pulling her hand back from those rock-hard muscles, she grabbed the inventory list and stared at the blurry words.

A part of her was doing the jump-up-and-down scream, yelling for her to go for it. They had the next few days together, just the two of them all cozied up here in the truck. He was gorgeous and sexy, and if the high school rumor mill held any truth—which was debatable, given how easily her sister had started her own rumor to get even with Tyler for ruining her prom—he was one helluva hot lover. And that had been eight years ago. She would bet he'd improved with age.

Oh man, she was getting turned-on. It was probably because it'd been forever since she'd been with anyone. She knew guys looked at her and automatically thought easy sex. But to Rita, sex just for the sake of getting naked was like an empty gift box under the Christmas tree. Enticing and maybe sparkly fun on the outside, but a mondo huge disappointment in the long run.

And with Tyler?

Somehow, she knew if they got sexy together, she'd want to keep whatever was inside that pretty package for herself. And that it would hurt like crazy when she couldn't.

“Why?” he asked a few dozen miles later.

Ripped from the sappy realization, she started. Had he read her mind?

“Why what?”

“Why are you carting around a box of kink?”

Rita's lips twitched. “I have to say, I'm a little surprised,” she mused. “I had no idea you were such a prude.”

“The hell I am,” he defended, tearing his gaze from the road to glare at her. “I'm all for sex. All kinds, all ways, all places. I could tell you stories that'd…”

Rita bit her lip to keep her smile from turning into a chortle.

“Once upon a time…” she encouraged.

He shot her a long look that was obviously going for irritated. But she saw his lips twitch.

“I'm not a prude,” he reiterated.

“But you are a party pooper if you're not going to finish that little story.”

“Sex toys. Your parents. Common ground?”

His fingers were now tapping an impatient beat on the steering wheel. Rita thought of the favor she needed to ask. Probably best to stop the teasing right about now, she decided.

“I want to get my parents this fabulous present for Christmas.”

“You haven't already got their present?” he said. “Christmas is in five days.”

Rita narrowed her eyes. “What are you, the calendar police?”

“Fine. You found the perfect present that you haven't bought yet. Keep going.”

Rita poked her bottom lip out. “I don't have quite enough money yet. Which was why I was working the bar. Tips are great this time of year and I'd figured another night would've been all I needed for the final payment.”

His wince was worth a thousand apologies. Never one to hold a grudge—after all, she so often screwed things up herself—Rita felt the last vestiges of irritation with Tyler's job-costing kiss fade.

“No biggie,” she said, wanting to erase that guilty look from his face. “The gal I was staying with, Shawn? She owns an erotic bookstore. She gave me a whole box of misfit toys as a going-away present.”

You had to credit Tyler. He was quick on the uptake. One glance at the inventory in her lap and he said, “So you're selling them on the road to make up the money you lost.”

“Exactly.” She twisted to pull one knee up on the seat and face him. “But to make it work, I sort of need a favor.”

“I'm not demonstrating those damned things for you,” he yelped, going pale.

Rita grinned, the image of just how he'd look in that black leather cock ring flashing through her mind. Mmm-mmm good. She shook her head, but still reached over to turn the heater down a little.

“Nothing like that. I just need a quick stop at the next town to get a few Christmas stockings, some holiday ribbon and bows. Maybe some mistletoe. Packaging, you know?”

“Packaging,” he repeated faintly.

“Yep.” She flipped the inventory over for a blank writing surface and held up her pen. “And if you're willing to be a total sweetie pie, you could give me a rundown of our itinerary. That way I can get the word out, drum up some interest ahead of time.”

He opened his mouth as if to answer, then his brow furrowed and he gave her a weird look. His shoulders hunched a little and he gripped the wheel tighter.

“Drum up interest? How?”

“Social networking at its best,” she explained. “My phone has apps for Facebook, Twitter and a couple others. Over the years I've met about a million people. I'll tweet the location, the time and a few tasty tidbits. Then, hopefully, there'll be buyers waiting when we get there.”

It was a great plan. From the stunned look on Tyler's face, he thought so, too. Or maybe that was horror?

“So what d'ya say?” she asked. “Can I get the itinerary?”

“I, um, have to make some calls first. Check on the guys who wanted me to stop by, see if they still want to talk.” He shot her a look so sweet, she got a sugar rush. “I'll hit the next
town so you can do some shopping, okay? Make my calls and give you tomorrow's stops at least.”

The smile he gave her was little-boy cute, with just a hint of something naughty beneath the surface. It was all Rita could do not to unhook her seat belt and climb into his lap.

“Sure,” she said softly, giving him a slow, sexy look from under her lashes. “Whatever you want.”

When his eyes narrowed, she ran her tongue along her bottom lip and gave a sigh. Small enough to be cute, but big enough to draw his attention to the ample curves of her chest. Which was covered, unfortunately, in an ancient blue sweater that owed its life to comfort and warmth, not fashion.

No matter. It wasn't as if she was going to dig into the package of sex toys herself. That'd be crazy. He was totally wrong for her. And then there was the fact that her family, who had never gotten over the prom fiasco, would kill her.

Of course, when had she worried what her family thought? Rita glanced at the list of toys she was trying to sell and winced. So she always worried about what her family thought. Which meant that until she knew she could handle whatever came up—or didn't come up—she'd just play with the wrappings.

But, oh, sweet holiday, she was damned sure unwrapping Tyler Ramsey would be one incredible pleasure. And she was definitely woman enough to handle anything he had tucked away in those faded jeans.

The trick would be convincing him. And she'd get right on that, just as soon as she was sure she could afford what doing so would cost her.

 

D
RIVING THROUGH THE SNOW,
Tyler gratefully listened to Rita chatter. He'd damn near driven off the road an hour back after getting blasted by a major sexy vibe. But after a few zinging hot seconds, she'd put her come-hither look away and turned on the friendly charm.

He couldn't honestly say he preferred friendly to sexy; he had to admit Rita was appealing either way.

Upbeat and gregarious, she covered topics ranging from what she'd gotten her sisters for Christmas, to who sang a better version of “Santa Baby” and how to build a perfect snowman.

She discussed his bike business, showing a surprising grasp of the bikes themselves and the Harley mystique. She talked about her myriad jobs, ranging from her stint as a restaurant critic to babysitting show dogs. From the sound of it, she'd taken jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none to new levels.

She filled him in on the friends she'd made, the people she'd connected with during her career odyssey, including the fact that she had all of them either on Twitter, Facebook or email. A huge benefit for her toy caper, he had to acknowledge.

The more he listened, the less he knew her. And the more he wanted her.

Which was crazy. Rita was trouble, wasn't she? She was bad news to any guy crazy enough to fall under her green-eyed spell. But the sweet look on her face when she'd described the present she wanted to get her parents was stuck in his brain.

Sure, he still felt justified with his actions back in the bar. He'd wanted to save Benny from making an ass out of himself. But he'd also ruined Rita's Christmas, not only her finances, but her entire homecoming. What kind of jerk was he? It wasn't like Benny wouldn't make an ass of himself anyway, and now that he'd spent some time with Rita, he realized she wasn't the do-him-for-a-ride-home type.

The question was, was he the do-the-girl-his-brother-had-loved type?

 

F
OUR HOURS LATER
, T
YLER
stood before a glass door painted with a snowman in a Santa hat. He shoved it open with as much force as the wind would allow, entered an almost-empty diner and stomped the snow from his feet.

There on the counter next to the doughnut display was Rita's little display of sex toys, all tied in festive ribbons or tucked into jolly red-and-white fuzzy stockings.

Looking like a naughty elf displaying her wares, Rita perched on the red and chrome stool next to the toys. The lights from a seventies' era silver metallic Christmas tree flashed, giving the entire scene a surreal edge.

“Don't you look like quite the grump. Or in keeping with the season, make that Scrooge.” She winked, then flicked a quick finger at the fringe of the snow-encrusted scarf he wore. “What's the matter?”

Frustrated on more levels than he'd known he had, Tyler stared into the dancing depths of her dark green eyes. Lush lashes and the exaggerated dark liner gave her the look of a very satisfied, very seductive cat.

A cat that had gotten over any and all skittishness he might have comforted himself by thinking she felt. That's what he got for relaxing his guard. Now he saw her as a woman. A woman who was sweet, funny and totally devoted to her family. One that, damn him, he actually liked.

And he had no one to blame but himself.

“We're stuck.” Tyler gave her the news as he threw himself into an empty booth and bounced a fist on the table. “Snow's shut down the freeway until tomorrow.”

Eyes widening, Rita glanced past him at the falling snow.

“The state trooper told me the motel up the highway is filled,” Tyler added. “He suggested we hunker down here or in the truck.”

“Be right back,” she murmured.

Tyler shrugged and continued to glare at the fluffy white curse. It was his own fault. He'd just had to take the long, scenic route. If he'd headed straight for Tennessee, they'd have missed the storm and been home tomorrow.

His only consolation was that they'd be spending the night
in the truck. Yes, it'd be cold as hell and miserably uncomfortable. But the combination of discomfort and a semi-public parking lot would insure he kept his hands off Rita's tempting body.

Maybe.

“Good news,” she said as she sashayed back over to the booth, two cups of steaming coffee in hand. “The cook, Doris, and I were chatting. She's trading me a Merry Merry Mistletoe stocking of toys in exchange for letting us use the room upstairs.”

As always, the mention of Rita's little sideline flipped his switch, tuning his imagination to the many different ways he'd like to feel her come.

And now they had a room? His resistance was down to the dregs. There was no way he'd be able to keep his hands off her if they shared a room.

“Don't worry,” she said, patting his hand as if she'd read his thoughts. “It'll only be for one night. Your virtue is safe.”

She grinned, wiggled her brows, then added, “Enough.”

T
YLER LUGGED HIS BACKPACK
and Rita's tote bag up a rickety flight of dry-rotted wood stairs, squinting against the brightly colored Christmas lights flashing through the snow flurries. Still, when he reached the top step, he hesitated. Could he handle this? A gust of snow hit his face like a fist. Did he have a choice?

Fingers numb in his thick gloves, he pried the door open to find a warm studio apartment that carried the fading scent of baked bread. A pot of coffee sat warming on the hot plate. A really pathetic Charlie Brown Christmas tree listed in the corner, boughs sagging under the weight of the tinsel. And Rita, looking like pure temptation, curled up all cozy and welcoming in a blanket on the floor.

Maybe a night in the truck wouldn't hurt that much?

“Heat, food, a cozy place to crash,” Rita said from across the room. “All the comforts of home, huh?”

Tyler grunted. He did a quick inventory. A table, two chairs, a lumpy couch and a couple end tables.

And no bed.

“What's wrong?” she asked softly. So softly he could barely hear the flirtation beneath her teasing tone. “Afraid I'll bite?”

Hell, yeah.

“You're hardly the scary type, sweetheart,” he said. Her words were enough to goad him over the threshold, though. “I'm just not big on sharing space.”

“Right,” she said with an agreeable nod. “Because we've just spent the day in a four-by-five-foot truck cab, and I noticed how totally uncomfortable and out of sorts that made you.”

Well, he'd walked right into that one. Tyler wondered if the snow had frozen a few too many brain cells. If it had, his lust should thaw them right out. God, he had to get out of here before he did something crazy. Like give in to not only his current desire, but the other ten years of built-up passion that'd been trying to explode ever since he'd tasted Rita in that damned bar.

“Is it the sex toys?” she asked when he couldn't find the right words.

Tyler's jaw dropped. And, of course, his gaze flew to the box of colorful toys and wrapping, which looked like one of Santa's really kinky elves had been hard at work. Rita was sitting was sitting cross-legged now, gift wrapping the toys. His mouth watered as his attention snagged on a bottle of peppermint-flavored body oil.

“Why would the toys be a problem?” he asked, as if the constant barrage of sexual images they inspired wasn't causing his body a moment's stress. “We already had this talk, didn't we? I'm not a prude.”

Just because he was too much of a gentleman to jump her body didn't make him uptight, dammit. It made him…what? Crazy? Frustrated? Teetering on hornily insane?

“Look, the toys aren't a problem,” he told her, stuffing his hands in the front pocket of his jeans to disguise how much of a nonproblem they were. “I just don't think it's a good idea for the two of us to be here, sharing a room. You're a great gal and I really like you,” he added, a little surprised to
realize just how true that was. “But I don't want to make you uncomfortable, or to give you the wrong idea.”

There. He'd sounded both reasonable and convincing. Determined, yet friendly. Tyler dropped into a chair, relieved. Not bad for a guy sporting a half-frozen hard-on.

Head tilted to one side, Rita listened attentively. When he wound down, she finished tying a pair of fur-lined handcuffs with a bright red velvet ribbon, then set them aside.

“The wrong idea?”

“You know, like…”

“Like something could happen between us?”

“Exactly.” Tyler pointed a finger at her as if she'd just scored a point, then realized he'd agreed with her. “No. I mean, I'm not assuming something would happen just because we're together in a room.”

“Really?” She slowly rose to her feet, her fluffy blue sweater and baggy, cuffed jeans sexier than any form of black lace. “You don't think all that time together in close quarters has us thinking crazy thoughts about each other?”

He nodded, mesmerized by the sight of her bare feet, with their candy-cane-striped toenails.

“Or maybe it's the sex toys. You know, constant exposure to the kink is wearing down our resistance.” She gave a little shrug, her body brushing against his as she stepped in front of him.

“I don't think it's any of that, though. I think it's us. There's something hot between us.” She stood so close now he could feel the whisper of air as her lips moved inches from his. “I think I'd like to see what it is.”

Her palm warmed his thigh, leaving tingles as it slid upward. His eyes fogged. She gracefully lowered herself between his knees. He damned near whimpered at the sight of her, looking like some good-ol'-boy fantasy.

“Don't you think it could be a mistake?” he asked, his voice so husky he was surprised he could get the words out.

Her smile should have been declared illegal. Wicked and bright, it lit up her eyes and made his brain sputter. She arched one dark brow, then slid a whisper-soft hint of a kiss over his lips.

Pulling back, she tilted her head and traced a finger along the crease of his thigh, heading toward his bulging zipper.

“If you like, we can always blame it on the mistletoe.”

“Oh, no. I'm keeping all the blame, or credit, for myself,” Tyler declared.

He didn't give himself time to find his sanity. Instead he tunneled his hands through the silky mass of her hair and tilted her head back, finally giving in to the endless craving that'd been driving him crazy.

 

T
HIS WAS WHY SHE WAS
always in trouble, Rita realized as Tyler's tongue plunged between her lips. She saw something that looked fun. She couldn't resist trying it out, even though she knew it wasn't right for her. She got caught up in the experience. Then when she ignored all the warning signals and it exploded in her face, she was always devastated and shocked.

But, at this moment, she didn't care. Tyler's lips were the stuff of magic. Soft and hard at the same time, they coaxed hers into a sweet dance. His vivid blue eyes held hers captive, making the kiss all the sexier for that extra intimacy.

Still on her knees, Rita shifted. Sliding her hands up his thighs, she felt his breath catch. Heat surged, igniting intense need deep in her belly. She wanted to touch him, to feel him. To taste him—all of him.

She couldn't believe she was this turned-on by the simple touch of his mouth on hers and his hands in her hair. God, once he hit the erogenous zones, she'd explode fully clothed.

Instead of tracing the hard length stretching his zipper, she forced herself to draw out her excitement by sliding her hands up the rippling planes of his chest.

He moaned lightly as she curled her nails into the delicious muscles of his shoulders. Then, as if that was the signal he'd been waiting for, the kiss went from sweet to erotic in one swift thrust of his tongue.

She hadn't known how afraid she'd been that he'd turn her away until he didn't. Or how much she'd wanted him until he'd taken her mouth with a passion she knew was real. As his tongue swept over hers, his teeth skimming her lower lip to take the kiss even deeper, she forgot every reason why this could be wrong and gave in to all the reasons it was right.

Tyler. Finally. She'd wanted him forever. She'd thought of nothing but his kiss since he'd first brushed his lips over hers in the bar. And now she could touch him, taste him. Be with him. It was like a dream come true.

He shifted. Between one breath and the next, they were both flat on the floor, his body poised over hers, one hand cradling the back of her head. All without taking his lips from her mouth.

Rita had to appreciate a man with that kind of talent.

To show that appreciation, she skimmed her hands down his back and tugged his shirt free of his jeans.

“Mmm,” she moaned as she finally got her hands on the warm, hard flesh of his abs. “You have one fine body.”

“Ditto,” he breathed as he trailed his fingers over the aching heaviness of her breast, then down her waist. Too fast, she wanted to say. She bit back the words. At this rate, she'd be begging before he'd dropped his jeans.

And if there was any begging in this room, it was damned sure going to be mutual.

With that in mind, when he reached for her sweater, she gently batted his hand away.

“This is like a dream come true,” she told him, squirming a little. As she moved his eyes went dark and blurry. His breath seemed to stutter in his chest. And best of all? His dick pressed even harder against her thigh.

Before she could give in to the delight of being seduced, she wiggled out from under him. Tyler rolled to his back, watching her with a sexy half smile that challenged her to drive him crazy.

A challenge she was more than happy to take.

Rita reached back to slide the elastic band from her hair, shaking her head so the tresses fell in wild abandon around her face.

She reached down, hooking her fingers on the hem of her sweater, and slowly, inch by inch, started sliding it up her torso.

“You know what I love best about sex?” she asked him, wanting to see if she could break his concentration.

“Everything?” he said absently, his eyes never leaving her body.

“Exactly.” Pleased, she finished pulling the sweater off to reward them both. Tossing it aside, she shifted to her knees, then curved her hands over her own waist. In a slow, teasing move she trailed her fingers up her sides, pausing briefly to cup her breasts as if offering them up for Tyler's delight.

His eyes narrowed, and his breath puffed out in appreciation. Her own eyes at half-mast, she scraped her fingernails over her hard nipples where they were trying to break through the lace of her bra. Then, before she could get carried away, she finished the move by tracing her hands up her throat and through her hair, stretching her arms overhead in supplication.

“Sex, when it's done right, is incredible,” she said. “It's honest and pure and real. It's all about sharing what's inside, while feeling incredible outside. So…will we do it right?”

She waited, a part of her sure he'd pull away. Instead he tugged off his shirt, then gave her a smile that was so warm, so sweet that her heart melted.

“Why don't I show you,” he offered, reaching out to cup his own hands over her breasts. While his fingers worked magic,
Rita hurried the process along by slipping off her jeans and panties, then kneeling over him clad in just her black lace bra.

One hand never leaving her nipples, he used the other to release the catch of her bra before scooping lower to trace the tidy patch of wet curls between her legs.

Leaning back, Rita spread her legs wide to give him better access. One of his hands worked the pouty pink tips of her lush breasts, the other caressed the glistening bud of her desire.

Rita was going to go crazy if he didn't put his finger, his dick—hell, anything—inside her soon.

“More,” she demanded breathlessly.

“Make me,” he ordered.

Grinning at the command, she took him at his word. Pressing both hands against his chest, she pushed him flat on the floor.

Rita licked and nibbled her way across his glorious chest then down the firm planes of his belly. Obviously too impatient to wait, he tugged his belt open, unsnapped, unzipped and shoved his jeans off. Before she could ask, he held up a foil packet.

With a wink, she took both it and the long, hard length of his dick in hand. Before she sheathed him, she swirled her tongue around the velvet head, making him groan.

“Sit up,” she told him. He raised a brow but didn't question the order. He shifted upright, his abs rippling at the move, so his back was against the couch.

Rita straddled him.

Loving the power, the intensity the position afforded her, she slowly, ever so slowly, impaled herself on his rigid shaft. With a moan, she arched her back. Eyes closed, she whimpered as he took the hint, his tongue and fingers working her nipples while she locked her legs behind his waist.

Body to body, face-to-face, eye to eye, they rode the building pleasure higher and higher. The intensity climbed, winding
tighter. Her breath came in gasps now as Rita tried to hold out, to hold back the crashing waves of desire.

Tyler shifted his hands from her breasts to grip her hips, guiding her up and down, in and out. Faster and faster. The climax was there, just beyond her reach. With every plunge, she added a little undulation, trying to reach it. Tyler's head fell back against the couch, his eyes closed. His fingers bit into her flesh.

One more thrust was all it took. Rita cried out with the power of her orgasm. Her body shook and her breath caught tight in her chest as she tried to extract every drop of delight from the moment.

Tyler's body stiffened, his hips lifting off the floor as he exploded in his own climax. Rita wrapped her thighs tighter around his hips, her feet locked behind his back as she collapsed against his chest.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Rita's breath calmed, and her brain started to clear as she listened to Tyler's heart pound against her ear.

“Now
that,
” he breathed, running his hand over her hair, “is what I love about sex.”