Her Mistletoe Bachelor Page 11

  “Oh please,” moaned Donovan. “We can fix ourselves something to eat, can’t we, British?”

  “I don’t know about him, but I can handle the food for everyone.”

  Mrs. Fitzhugh patted Donovan on the shoulder. “No, when I say everyone else left, everyone left. The van from the Brutti Hotel downtown just picked up a few guests who weren’t going to relatives’ for tomorrow. It’s just the two of you tonight.”

  Lightning struck again. British reached out and touched Mrs. Fitzhugh’s hand. “I think you should stay here instead of trying to make the trip into town.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ve got my grandson on the way.”

  As if on cue, a horn blew outside from beyond the front porch.

  “Are you sure? Maybe the two of you can wait out the weather here?” British asked.

  Mrs. Fitzhugh shook her head from side to side. “No, best we get on our way before the bottom falls out.”

  Donovan cocked his head to the side, afraid to ask.

  “Before the storm hits.”

  As the older woman walked toward the door, the last two remaining guests walked with her. She assured them they would be just fine and that British knew every emergency contact in town. They opened the door for her, where her grandson rushed to them with a waiting umbrella. Donovan asked once more if she was okay and before she took off for shelter with her family member, Mrs. Fitzhugh stepped up on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss goodbye.

  “Well,” British sighed, facing the door as it closed. “What do we do now?”

  Donovan loosened his tie and shook his head. “Now we have dessert first.”

  “What?”

  Letting her in on his idea of a treat, Donovan stepped forward and cupped British’s face. “Dessert,” he whispered before dropping his face to kiss her.

  British’s arms wrapped around his neck and allowed him to dip her backward. Just as he recalled from last night, the spark was undeniable. British moaned and her lips vibrated against his. His body hardened. To be safe, he set her upright.

  “If that was dessert,” British asked him, “what’s the main course?”

  “Well—” he started and stopped himself with her help when she swatted him in the stomach. “All right, all right. But I’m not going to apologize for kissing you just now.”

  British took a deep breath. “I guess I had it coming.”

  Donovan narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe my kisses have ever been compared to a form of punishment.”

  “I didn’t mean it to sound like one,” said British. “I just meant, if I can just randomly kiss you because I don’t want to regret anything, it’s only fair you do the same.”

  A clang of thunder shook the door frame. Donovan laced his fingers with hers and led her to the dining room. This felt natural—as if the two of them just saw off their last guests and were heading upstairs. Only they weren’t, Donovan reminded himself. While they’d been sharing a few kisses here and there, Donovan acknowledged the fact that she was a widow. He assumed he was the first person she was attracted to since her husband’s death. He needed to keep this in mind. Eventually he was going to leave Southwood. Hopefully it would be with British—as the new spokesmodel for Ravens Cosmetics.

  “Well, I figured since we have to be around your family, we need to get this whole sexual tension out of the way.”

  “You’re pretty sure of yourself, Donovan,” British said with a nod.

  They stopped and stood in the archway of the dining room and faced each other. “I think you wouldn’t have showed up in my room in a thin nightgown last night if you weren’t feeling the same vibes as me. But I don’t want things to get muddled for us. We may end up working together if you take my offer and be Ravens Cosmetics’ newest star.”

  “I won’t,” she assured him. “Anyway, what are you talking about?” Annoyance dripped from her voice. It didn’t matter to him. She was so adorable, standing there with her hands behind her back, leaning on her side of the arch. “What am I taking things slow with?”

  “Well,” Donovan began after deeply clearing his throat. “Do we need to have this talk now?”

  “Are you referring to me being a widow?” British half laughed. “Are you trying to marry me?”

  Donovan felt his eyes widen at the word. “Well... I—”

  “Good grief, Donovan,” said British. She crossed her arms, tucking her right hand under her arm and her left on top. Her ringless hand on top. “I’ll admit there is a tension between us. But I can’t be sure it’s sexual. You’ve been harassing me about working for your company.”

  “So when I caught you staring at me this morning?”

  She opened her mouth then closed it. “Well, I didn’t say you aren’t attractive.”

  “You’re turning red, British.” He swore if he stepped closer he might spark up in flames.

  The light from the candles on the table highlighted her face when she turned away from him. “What you’re describing is pure physical desire. Pheromones.”

  “Oh,” he said with a wink, “so animalistic.”

  “Whatever,” she huffed and stepped into the dining room. “It’s all science.”

  “All this science talk,” he said rubbing his heart. “You’re really turning me on.” And she was, but he guessed from the way she rolled her eyes she didn’t believe him one bit.

  The table was set with antique silver and patterned plates. A silver-domed tray housed a perfectly roasted turkey. Donovan had peeked earlier. British chose a seat by the head of the table, close to where he’d sat this morning. For a moment Donovan pictured three curly-haired kids with features perfectly blending those of the Ravens family and British. He blinked and shook his head. The image disappeared. Weird.

  “I see Jessilyn made a turkey,” British noted as she started walking toward the French doors. Had they lingered longer, Donovan might have wiped everything off the table and made love to her in front of the turkey. “The sides must be in here,” she went on. “How about we just do our dinner buffet-style and save us extra dishes to clean up? Sound good to you? Oh crap.”

  British rushed through the kitchen where they’d first dined together and headed for the back door. Marker ink drizzled down the white pages of the poster board where steps for the big and small challenges were outlined. Opened plastic coffee filters for the glow-in-the-dark chromatology butterflies took on water. “The girls left some of the equipment you just got them outside and it’s raining.”

  Seemingly without thinking, British kicked out of her heels and jetted out the door. Donovan followed half in fear of making sure she didn’t hurt herself and half to do whatever she needed done. “Wait.”

  Rain poured down between them. He had no idea what half the stuff was but it seemed important. “Load me up,” Donovan said, coming up to her.

  Without a word she lifted metal rods, batteries, radios and lights into his open arms.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but is this safe?”

  “It’s better than wasting the items,” British noted, grabbing her own stack and heading for the back porch.

  “Yeah, but the items can be replaced,” he said. “You can’t. And then I’ll be forced to find someone else to be RC’s spokesmodel.” British stopped long enough to give him a pretty snarl. Even soaking wet, he wanted her. But now was not the time.

  Donovan followed her movements until they cleaned up the backyard. By the time they finished, the two of them were drenched and found this to be the right time to laugh about it.

  “I’m going to have a serious talk with them when they get back,” said British. “They can’t just waste things. Look at this,” she hissed and stepped off the porch. “Stephanie left a controller and her SSRs for her string of lights. The solid state relays are going to connect to the computer, if they’re not ruined by now.”

&nbs
p; What appeared to be a string of loose bulbs turned out to be an underground set that didn’t budge. When British bent to pull the lights with a heavy tug, she fell...flat on her back. Donovan darted off the steps to scoop her up. “Are you okay?” he said in a panic. They made it inside before, as Ms. Fitzhugh said, the bottom fell out. Rain fell like a heavy sheet.

  “My pride is hurt,” said British. “Put me down.”

  “No way, you’re filthy,” he said, shaking his head. “If you think I’m a lousy cook, you should see my nonexistent housekeeping skills.” Donovan hiked British up in his arms for a better grip. “Nope, I’m carrying you to your room.”

  At least while she pouted she was quiet.

  Donovan carried her up the grand staircase and to her closed door.

  “Close your eyes,” British ordered him. “I’m not hurt.”

  “Woman, I practically saw your naked tail the other night and if that didn’t give me enough view, your split in your dress revealed a whole hell of a lot more.”

  British did what he expected and rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever.” She reached into the V of her bodice and extracted her card key, giving him an impatient look. Wordlessly she raised an eyebrow and demanded him to lower her enough to unlock the door. Such an easy task to do but so hard for Donovan. He was mesmerized by the swell of her breasts. Rain droplets caressed her skin in places he wished he could.

  British cleared her throat and brought him back to focus. “Right, uh, sorry.”

  Once the door popped open, Donovan set British on the dresser by the door. To silence her from questioning him, he raised his index finger in the air, then went to grab a few towels from the bathroom. By the time he turned back around, British had already slipped the gorgeous gown off her shoulders. She folded her arms across her bare breasts and jutted her chin forward. Donovan shook his head. “Not sorry.”

  The moment Donovan anticipated for later, started right now. Donovan wedged himself between her wet thighs while he cupped her face. Their tongues reached out for a reunion. British’s hands tugged at the knot of his tie and her fingers impatiently ripped open the front of his Oxford shirt. Their feverish kiss didn’t break, not even when he led them over to the edge of the bed and coaxed her body backward with his frame. While his left hand held up the lower half of her body, Donovan’s hands palmed her breasts. His thumb traced circles on her areolae.

  British’s hands skillfully worked him out of his wet shirt. He helped with unbuttoning his pants while she slid them over his rear. He wanted her so badly, he barely waited to pull his slacks completely off. He fumbled in the dark with the condom in his wallet, hating himself for taking too much time away from devouring her body.

  British waited with her elbows up and legs open. The color of her dress on the floor caught the flickering light of the sky outside. Keeping them safe, Donovan felt his way up her calves, to her muscled thighs and to the apex of her legs. His fingers pushed at the fleshy wet center, his erection straining against the rubber material.

  British sat up enough to grab Donovan by the neck and pull him down into a warm kiss. While he pressed her body onto the bed, he entered her slowly. British pressed her body against his. Her breasts crushed against his chest and her legs wrapped around his waist. Donovan wanted to take it slow but as she nibbled his ear he lost himself in her and brought her to the first of many more orgasms that were sure to come.

  * * *

  From the moment their bodies connected, British knew there was something irreversible between her and Donovan. A part of her wanted to feel guilty for being with another man but her heart wouldn’t let her. This felt right. His body was so hard with muscles and had been so strong to have lifted and carried her earlier this evening; his skin was so soft. Donovan turned onto his belly and British stroked his bare back.

  Donovan turned his face toward her. His smile melted her heart. “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching over to stroke her face. The pad of his thumb brushed just beneath her lower lashes.

  “I’m fine,” she answered with a soft smile, “everything is fine.”

  “I don’t want you to have any regrets,” said Donovan.

  British turned her face to kiss the inside of his palm. Her lips twitched with a grin as he shivered. “I’m where I want to be, doing what I want to do.” She leaned over and kissed Donovan on the lips. With gentle aggression she coaxed his mouth open and tasted him again. Reenergized, she pushed her body against his to urge him on his back. “I don’t think I can get enough of you.”

  Donovan obliged and held on to British’s hips while she straddled his naked waist. Her body urged him to flip on his back. His hands reached for her breasts and held them, kneading them gently. Electricity bolted through her body. She realized a difference between being with Christian and being with Donovan. Donovan didn’t tire. His erection pulsed between her legs. British nibbled her bottom lip, contemplating what to do next or where to start. She wasn’t used to this wanton behavior but she wanted to devour Donovan.

  Donovan sat up with her in his lap and whispered the words that filled her heart with joy and security. “We can take our time. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Chapter 7

  A harsh, old-fashioned-sounding bell went off next to British’s ear. She stirred in her bed and reached aimlessly to stop the sound. Blindly she found the alarm clock and hit a button to get the noise to stop. British shuddered. Her body naturally sought the heat source in her bed and found it in an oversize man. Not just any man. Donovan Ravens. She smiled as she blinked her gaze into focus. His broad back faced her. The tips of her fingers itched to trace the tattoo on his body, but she decided to wait. There was something else she needed to do but, as she lifted the covers for a peek at his bare butt, she forgot what it was.

  “Dear God, woman,” Donovan croaked, “are you ready to go again?”

  Giggling, British lifted herself up on her right elbow. What she’d thought was her room was actually his. That’s right. She’d followed him in here through the balcony when he’d left to get more condoms for the two of them and they’d ended up christening the room in here. “I forgot, you’re an old man.”

  The little bit of covers she still wore left her body. Donovan rolled toward her, taking the blanket but replacing it with his strong arms. She’d take those any day. Last night with Donovan...this morning with Donovan, had been incredible. All she needed to do was to think about the things he did to her and she was ready to go.

  “I’m old, huh?” Donovan flicked both nipples with his tongue.

  A spark of desire pumped through her. “I don’t recall those exact words.”

  Donovan ducked his head under the sheets. His full lips started a trail of kisses down her diaphragm across her belly. She was suddenly self-conscious of how desperately she needed to clean up. British pulled him back by his massive shoulders. “I need to shower, I must smell horrific.”

  “Let’s shower after we lie here for a while,” said Donovan and closed his eyes. He pulled himself back up to the pillow by hers and, without thinking, British cocked her leg over his. They just fit together.

  The realization came that she’d just been intimate with another man after a long...long time. British didn’t want to compare the two men but it was inevitable. She and Christian learned to make love together. The men were different. Christian, because of his heart, had to limit his overexcitement. British felt a mix of exhilaration and fright at Donovan’s uninhibited passion. She’d assumed Donovan would be a great lover physically, but mentally he went beyond her expectations. He anticipated needs she didn’t know she had. Donovan paid attention to every inch of her body, from her toes to the top of her head. Euphoria settled into her veins. Not wanting to forget this feeling, British rested her head but didn’t close her eyes. At least, she didn’t think she had shut them until a loud shrill woke her. This time it wasn’t the alarm clock. It
sounded like a doorbell.

  “I thought we were alone,” said British.

  “Hell, I paid for everyone to stay away,” Donovan growled and stalked naked toward the balcony door, which faced the front entrance of Magnolia Palace.

  Damn, the man looked good naked. The white curtains billowed in the cool fall breeze. A faint smell of burning wood from a smoker on a nearby estate filled the bedroom.

  A voice called out from the front lot, “British, honey,” and broke the silence of the morning.

  British flopped back onto the bed. “Please tell me...”

  Donovan half turned to catch what she was going to say. She wanted the bed to swallow her whole. “Is that...?”

  “British, it’s your mom. Come let me in. I’m worried. You haven’t picked up and you know I like to start cooking first thing in the morning.”

  The alarm clock on the side of Donovan’s bed went off again. This time British turned it off and remembered what today was. Thanksgiving.

  * * *

  Not since before his accident did Donovan recall a time he felt the panic need to leap out of bed, but that’s what he’d done when he heard British’s mother was downstairs waiting for them to make sure they came over to the house. Donovan would have preferred spending the day in bed with British, especially after last night and this morning—and even more when they stopped in the driveway to British’s family home.

  “Well, there’s my little girl.”

  Donovan hung back by the car when a burly, oversize man stepped out of the two-story farmhouse with a shotgun by his side. Folks were serious about their guns in the South. The summer Will and Zoe met, Will had been cleaning weapons with one of Zoe’s friend’s husbands when a young man came to the house to pick up the teenager for a date. Somehow Donovan knew this was no act. This was British’s father. He stood there dressed in dark green camouflage and large rubber boots, holding a long rifle.

  When Joan corralled them this morning, she promised Donovan she’d take good care of him once they got to the house. Before Donovan closed the passenger-side door for British, she’d already high-stepped it around his car. He tried not to stare at her hourglass figure in her formfitting jeans. The baseball T-shirt she wore with the red sleeves accentuated the curves of her rounded breasts. He couldn’t believe that less than an hour ago he was holding her in his bed and now here he was, with her family, all vulnerable. He took a deep breath of the cool morning air and pushed the thoughts out of his head. Three months ago, before Tracy, women had rotated in and out of his life. There’d barely been time for name exchanges, let alone hanging out with the parents. Yet somehow with British, this just felt natural. He liked her and enjoyed being around her.