Montana Rescue (The Wildes of Birch Bay Book 2) (6 page)

Yet . . .

Was Betsy in his room tonight?

The stupid question wouldn’t stop running through her head.

She checked the money left in her hand and made a last-minute decision to buy a bag of popcorn from the adjacent machine. There was a microwave in her room, and something told her this would be a long night with little sleep. Might as well be prepared.

After returning to her sister’s room, she discovered Jewel tucked under the covers in bed, a cool cloth on her forehead, and no color in her face. Harper opened the drink and handed it over before digging out a sleeve of saltines from a plastic grocery bag. She’d made a dash to a local convenience store earlier in the evening for the crackers, and had logged a mental note not to travel with Jewel again without them.

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly. She sat on the edge of the bed, and handed over a cracker when a feeble hand reached out for one.

“Awful.”

Harper didn’t point out that Jewel probably looked even worse than she felt. “You think it’s over this time?”

Tears suddenly streamed from the corners of Jewel’s eyes.

“Oh, honey,” Harper cooed. She scooted down on the bed and hugged her sister tight. “What can I do?”

“Nothing.” Jewel sniffed. “I want Bobby.”

“Of course you do.”

Harper stroked her hand up and down Jewel’s back, her fingers sliding over the cool nylon of the nightgown, and considered calling her brother-in-law. He’d come home if she asked him to. The man would do anything for his wife. But Harper just as quickly vetoed the idea. The notion of calling him was driven more from her own mental self-preservation than true need. Jewel might miss her husband and prefer him by her side at the moment, but she’d also be fine without him. Bobby was pursuing a dream that both he and Jewel were fully behind, and now was the time to do it.
Before
the baby arrived.

Therefore, Harper would stay put, she’d take care of her sister, and she’d do as she had for months. Ignore her own thoughts of grief.

Cracker crumbs scattered on the sheets, but instead of sweeping them off the bed, Harper lifted the covers and slid in underneath, where she held her sister even tighter. “You talked to him tonight, right? Did you tell him how bad your morning sickness is?”

Jewel snorted into Harper’s chest. “You mean my all-day sickness?” She shook her head. “No.” The barely whispered word made her sound so pitiful.

“Why not?”

“What good would it do? He’d want to be here for me.”

“I know, but talking about it with him might help. That way it might
feel
like he’s here.”

“So you now think that talking helps?” Jewel looked up from her position tucked in tight against Harper, a knowing look in her eye, and unease swept through Harper. She’d declared for months that talking didn’t help anything. Jewel had offered that very opportunity on numerous occasions. Their mother, too. Even their other two sisters and father had been willing to jump in with both feet.

Harper had turned each of them away.

She’d talked to no one. Because what could she possibly say?

“It’s not the same,” she mumbled. She tucked Jewel’s face back to her chest.

“No, it isn’t. I’m simply puking my guts up. And you—”

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

They both grew quiet, the only sounds in the room Jewel’s soft breathing. Harper kept her gaze focused on the far wall, hot anger beginning to swirl in her belly. She not only didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t want to think about it. Therefore, she allowed the only topic she’d found capable of taking her mind off of all things Thomas.
Nick Wilde.

She replayed the moment her lips had connected with his. How soft his hair had been under her fingers. And the utter shock that had flashed through his eyes as he’d recognized what was about to happen.

She’d caught him off guard, and she’d liked that. It had given her a chance to feel less out of control than she’d been while standing there with inane jealousy rushing through her. She didn’t like being out of control. But good Lord, that kiss. His mouth could be as addictive as his smile. As could his body—if the brief encounter she’d had with it was anything to go by.

One touch, and she could pinpoint its main attributes. Enticing. Habit-forming. And
hard
.

It had taken Nick several seconds to jump into the action himself, giving her a brief taste of all he might have to offer once he had, but uncertainty had eventually stopped her. One week ago she couldn’t have imagined sleeping with a man other than her husband. As much as she hated the situation she now found herself in, she still loved Thomas. She always would. And though she didn’t intend to go through the rest of her life in a nunlike state, it hadn’t even been two years yet.

However, when she was around Nick . . .

She closed her eyes tight. She didn’t just
want
to sleep with Nick. She’d developed a visceral desperation to do so. She’d thought about him for the remainder of the afternoon. Imagining his hands on her body. Her hands on his.

She’d sculpted every inch of him in her mind, and she would place bets as to what he’d feel like pushing inside her, his body swollen and hard with desire. He would make her forget. At least for a moment. And she would thoroughly enjoy the reprieve.

“I’m fine now.”

Harper opened her eyes at her sister’s words. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Jewel pushed at her. “And anyway, you’re making me hot. I swear your body temperature just rose ten degrees. Go back to your own room.”

Jewel flung the covers off and scooted to the middle of her bed, leaving Harper alone and suddenly lighthearted. Jewel was hot? Because
she’d
been thinking about Nick? Harper almost laughed.

That was likely exactly what had caused her external body temperature to rise. Because she’d definitely heated up on the inside from thinking about him.

After climbing from the bed, she tucked the top down on the pack of crackers and screwed the lid back onto Jewel’s drink. She then turned out the lights and whispered good night. They’d considered staying in the same room, but Harper preferred her privacy. There were still too many nights when she didn’t sleep well, and the last thing she wanted was to keep Jewel awake. Or have Jewel badgering her to
talk
. And now with Nick playing havoc with her mind, Harper was even more grateful for her own space.

She closed both doors between the two rooms, then leaned back against them and shut her eyes. And again pictured Nick naked. What was it with that man? What was it with
her
?

Grabbing her own soda, she rubbed the cool condensation against her neck and turned on the TV. If only it would be so simple to sleep with him. She could bask in an overload of feelings and wear herself out enough to sleep like the dead. And orgasms. Oh geez . . . orgasms. It had been so long, she’d almost forgotten what one felt like.

She’d bet Nick was the type to see that she got off before him, though. Maybe more than once.

Her pulse pounded in her neck. She freaking missed orgasms.

But the problem with all those feelings, and all that sleeping like the dead was . . . what feelings would she experience afterward?

Satisfaction? Guilt?

Disgust?

She shook her head and unscrewed the cap on her drink. It would be best to keep Nick at a distance until she had some answers. Until she could ensure she’d wake up the next morning with no regrets.

Taking a long gulp, and with a firm decision made, she kicked off her boots and shrugged out of her hoodie. Then she flipped through the channels and set her mind to
not
giving a certain cowboy any additional thought. Instead, she’d find a gory, hopefully B-rated movie to watch, and indulge in some buttery goodness.

With her plan in mind, she put the popcorn in the microwave, and located a bad but exactly-what-she-wanted ’80s horror flick. When the popping stopped, she turned out all the lights and settled in against the headboard to watch. And just as a skewer was jabbed through the eye of the movie’s first victim, a knock sounded softly at her door.

Chapter Six

T
he door cracked opened three narrow inches in front of him, and the first thing to register was the scream in the background. Nick’s eyes widened in question.

“Horror movie,” Harper said. She licked her lips before doing the same to her fingers, and Nick picked up on the smell of butter.

“With popcorn?”

“Of course.”

The door remained open only a sliver of space, telling him he should turn and walk away. She didn’t want him here. Instead, he held up two beers. “Need something to drink with the popcorn?”

She eyed the offering, and he would have bet money she’d pass on the opportunity, but one arm snaked out of the darkness, and, after twisting off the cap, she drank half the bottle.

Another scream sounded as light flickered in the room behind her, and she peeked back. He could tell by her total absorption in staring across the room that she’d immediately gotten sucked in to whatever was happening on the television screen. And he had a sudden urge to see the movie himself.

“Want company?” he asked.

Harper turned back to him. The look on her face said that she could see through him as easily as a sheet of glass. “What are you doing here, Nick?”

I was hoping you might want to finish that kiss.

Instead of answering, he gulped.

Harper turned up her beer again, eyeing him from beneath lowered lids as she drained the bottle. He couldn’t have spoken at that moment if he’d wanted to. He was too transfixed by watching her drink. The woman could make any action sexy.

When the bottle was empty, she wiped her mouth, narrowed her eyes on him, then gave a single nod and stepped back. She pushed the door open and motioned with her head for him to come inside. “I suppose you’re here to ask what that kiss was about?”

The lady got right to the point. “I”—he shrugged, trying to look casual—“actually just thought you might want some company. And beer.”

She guffawed at his attempted diversion, and moved away. She muted the television and turned on a lamp, then swiped at a spray of popcorn on the bed, raking it into a pile in the middle of the bedspread before scooping it up with both hands.

“Messy eater,” Nick observed from behind her.

“Your knock came at an inopportune time,” she replied. She dumped the popcorn into a wastebasket and dusted off her hands. “Scared the shit out of me, actually.” When she faced him again, she crossed her arms just beneath her breasts and jutted one hip out to the side. She gave him a pointed look, as if to say,
Get on with it, little boy. Let’s talk about that kiss and be done with it.

But again, no words would come. Instead, his gaze went into motion, traveling over her shoulders and biceps. He’d known she was toned before. That was obvious in her moves as well as the fit of her clothes. But until this moment, he hadn’t seen her in anything that
fit
quite the way her T-shirt did. It was thin, its sleeves a couple of inches shorter than the standard “short sleeve,” and it seemed to be made up of at least a small percentage of spandex. The pale-pink shirt wasn’t so tight that it couldn’t be worn in public, but it
was
tight enough that he noticed she wasn’t only trim and in great shape. She was ripped.

“What do you do for a workout?” he asked.

Her chin angled down, even as her eyes looked up at him. “Really? You’re here in my room at close to midnight. Uninvited, I might add.
After
I knocked your socks off with a kiss. And you want to talk about my exercise regime?”

“Okay.” He dared her with his return look. If she wanted to get right to the point, he’d go there. “Then let’s talk about the kiss.” And while he was at it, he’d back her against the wall and
show
her what it meant to knock someone’s socks off. He took another step toward her.

But instead of replying, Harper disappeared into the bathroom.

The door closed behind her, and the space went deathly silent, and in the next instant Nick let out a ragged breath and asked himself what kind of fool he was. He could be hooking up with Betsy or any number of other women there tonight. Women who would
love
to spend time with him.

Or
he could be asleep. A good night’s rest certainly wouldn’t hurt since he’d had a poor showing that evening. He had a lot of ground to make up tomorrow.

Yet what he was doing instead was standing in the middle of his pubescent crush’s motel room, letting her taunt him as she’d always done—while ridiculously hoping that she might kiss him just one more time.

He laughed at himself. Would he never quit crushing on this woman?

He should have stuck with the original plan of being her friend only. He turned his back to the still-closed bathroom door and moved to the window. The curtains were pulled tight, so he opened them before removing the cap to his beer. The light outside the motel’s office showed an empty parking lot and highlighted the closed and dark café across the street. Everyone was tucked away in their rooms for the night. Which was where he should be.

The water came on in the bathroom behind him, and he tilted up his beer, trying
not
to imagine what Harper might be doing inside that room. He was an idiot. Because the one thing he should not have done tonight was let his dick lead him straight to Harper.

Harper stood in front of the mirror, water running into the sink, and stared at her overheated face. Her breaths had grown shallow as her thoughts fought to be heard. The minute she’d opened the door to Nick, her innermost secrets had demanded to be the center of attention. At first there’d been only whispers of things she could do to Nick. That Nick could do to her. But then naughty visions of those exact scenarios began playing out for her to see. Her naked. Nick naked.

And neither of them remaining separate from the other.

She gulped as she once again imagined the man in her bedroom with no clothes on, and she splashed water on her cheeks. Its startling coolness seemed to sizzle on contact.

Then she asked herself if she could really do it? If she
should
do it?

Because, oh, she so wanted to.

She pulled her shirt over her head and took off her bra, and simply stared at her reflection. She’d been so alone since Thomas had left. So sad and angry. And damn, but she’d hurt. She dropped the clothing at her feet and studied her body. She was fit, with few extra curves, but that lack had never bothered Thomas. In fact, he’d liked it.

She lifted her hands, bringing her palms to her breasts, and sucking in a sharp breath at the contact. It had been far too long since she’d been touched.

Her nipples pebbled, scratching at her skin, and she gently squeezed herself. And with the pressure, she closed her eyes at the immediate flood of sensations. She may have just been thinking of her husband, but the only thing in the world she could focus on in that moment was Nick. And how she wanted nothing more than his hands replacing hers.

She needed to feel again. Something more than hurt. And she needed to do that tonight.

With no additional thought, she added her jeans and panties to the pile at her feet and she exited the small bathroom. It didn’t take but a second for Nick to turn from the window, and when he did, Harper took note of the quick change from normal, casual movement to every single muscle inside him tensing up. His beer hovered halfway to his mouth, and his eyes didn’t blink.

“Is this why you showed up at my door?” she asked.

Finally, something about him moved—he gulped. She saw the movement in his throat from across the room, and that simple token of nervousness managed to evaporate her tension over what she was about to do.

“Close the curtains, Nick.” She began to move toward him. “We don’t need anyone watching us tonight.”

“This isn’t why I came over here.”

Her feet stalled at his choked-out words, and her nerves flared. Had she been wrong? “You want me to put my clothes back on?”

“No.” The answer came fast and strained. Then he fumbled to set his beer on the bedside table, sloshing out several drops before righting it, while never once taking his eyes off her. When he subsequently reached blindly behind him, tugging at the curtains one-handed, her nerves subsided. He looked ridiculous. Like the kid who’d once wanted her but had been too young to know how to handle it. His Adam’s apple rose and fell once again.

“Then what do you want?” she asked softly. She forced her fear back behind her boldness.

“I . . .” His words trailed off as she again began moving. This time she didn’t stop until she stood directly in front of him.

“Turn off the light,” she commanded.

One hand reached out and flipped off the lamp, and the room went dark except for the flash of the muted horror movie continuing to play out behind her.

“Now put your hands on me.”

When he didn’t immediately move, she ignored the voice telling her this was her out. That she could change her mind and walk away, no harm done. Because she didn’t want to change her mind and walk away. She might regret it in the morning, but at that moment, regret was the last word on her mind. So she reached for Nick.

She covered her body with his hands, his palms fully encasing both her breasts, and the skin-on-skin contact shut down her ability to breathe. When she realized she’d also closed her eyes, she forced them open. She didn’t want to miss a moment of this. And what she found when she once again looked at Nick was his dark, unwavering gaze.

He shifted slightly, lowering his hands just enough so that his palms cupped the undersides of each breast a bit more fully. More possessively. And when he squeezed, his eyes still glued to hers, she felt the imprint of ten long strokes of heat where his fingers imprisoned her.

She bit back a groan as her entire body began to shimmer with need.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked.

“Positive.”
Almost.

His head nodded almost imperceptibly, and his eyes dipped, taking in her naked body. His fingers kneaded her as he drank his fill, and when he dragged his gaze back up the length of her, she watched his chest rise and fall with each of his breaths. “I did come over with the intention of kissing you,” he confessed. “Or, at least trying to.” His eyes flitted over her again, as if they had a mind of their own. “I will admit that much. But I swear I didn’t plan to push for anything more.”

She smiled softly and lifted her fingers to his plaid shirt. “Then it’s a good thing I made that push for you.” But when his thumbs began to flick over her turgid nipples, she expelled a burst of air from between her lips. “But you better tell me you have a condom somewhere on your body.”

“I have a condom somewhere on my body.”

And with those eight words, Nick lost both hesitancy and shock. His mouth came down hard, his tongue parting her lips with the assurance of a man who knew how to move this evening toward a grand finale, and his hands sought out the contours of her butt. He tested the lower curve of her cheeks in his palms, a groan ripping from the back of his throat, then jerked her forward, bringing her into full contact with his body. Her own moan joined his.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she whispered.

“Then take them off me.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. She ripped open the buttons of his shirt, her fingers flying over the material, while he continued a more leisurely tour of her backside. Once his skin was exposed, she thrust her hands inside the shirt and flattened her chest to his. A shiver wracked her body. His mouth latched onto the curve of her neck, nibbling, and he began inching her backward.

She allowed him do whatever he wanted, barely conscious of his movements, while she focused solely on one thing. Touch. He was a symphony of textures. Hot, tight skin beneath the pads of her fingers, scratchy hair teasing at her nipples. The cool metal of his belt buckle pressing into her belly, and the soft rub of worn denim sliding along her thighs.

When he palmed her butt and urged her upward, she lifted both legs and let him fit her to the hardness behind the zipper of his jeans. Her fingers shook as she shifted her hands to his belt buckle, ready to uncover all the treasures he held dear. She tugged, trying to free his belt, but progress quickly slowed. Because while she tried to remain on task, he’d started something new. His hands gripped her with clear determination, the fullest part of her rear filling his palms and his fingertips meeting in the middle. They dug deep into her soft flesh.