Andthen he did explode—in peals of laughter.
Paigegulped air, trying to catch her breath. “Are you hurt?”
He heldher with one hand and pounded the other on the tabletop, tears squeezing fromthe corners of his eyes. “Oh God,” he wheezed. “I’m fine. You?” He raised hishead and looked at her as she sprawled across him half-naked, her feet danglingin space.
“Fine.”She laid her head on his chest, his rumbling laughter vibrating along withhers. “I didn’t mean to booby-trap you.”
“You didn’t,pixie. Being the highly-coordinated athlete I am, I managed that gracefulmaneuver on my own. The upside to not playing pro is not having to explain tomy coach how I injured myself hauling my girlfriend into the bedroom.”
“So youdid hurt yourself?”
Wait.Girlfriend?
Hesmoothed her hair behind her ear. “Only my pride.”
Hiccuppingand giggling, Paige peeled herself off him and darted her eyes across thetable. Beckett raised his head, looked around, then locked his eyes on hers. Ina breathless instant, he flipped her on her back, his forearms caging her. Justas swiftly, balancing his weight, he yanked her panties down her legs. Lost inthe charged moment, she hadn’t noticed the table’s rustic top until its roughridges dug into her flesh. She tensed. He stilled.
Hisbreaths came ragged in her ear. “Am I hurting you?”
“It’snot as comfortable as it looks in Bull Durham,” she gasped.
“Probablya smooth table. And they cut away before the real action.”
“I betthey moved the ‘real action’ to a soft bed.”
“Wehave a few of those around here, though I’d never deny fulfilling one ofyour fantasies, pixie.”
Sheflashed him a salacious smile. “I have a few more in mind that don’t involvesplinters in my tail.”
A slowgrin spread over Beckett’s face. “Can’t wait.” He elbow-crawled down her body,kissing and licking as he went, and stood, pulling up the pants caught aroundhis knees.
Sheraised herself on her elbows, taking in his chest, his perfect abs, and thebulging fabric below his waist. He helped her off the table and led her towardthe bedroom while she silently thanked the God of Condoms Found.
A longwhile later, they lay nestled together, Beckett sifting her strands through hisfingers, her hand tracing the hard ridges of his abdomen.
“Idon’t know about you, Andie, but that was … seismic … spine-melting. I can’tdescribe it.” He made an exploding noise and flicked his fingers wide.
“Seismic’sa good description. A minimum nine-point-five on the Richter scale.”
“Yeah?”His tone was one of surprise and delight.
“Yeah.Next time, let’s go for a ten.” She lowered her fingers, skimming his happytrail.
“You’replaying with fire, pixie.”
Shewithdrew her hand and giggled. “All right. I’ll behave.”
“Damn.”He tugged her close and kissed her head.
“Toobad about our supply crisis,” she said.
Hetrailed his fingers along her arm. “I’d love nothing better than a hat trickwith you, but I emptied every pocket, every bag I own to find the last condom.”
“Maybea hot-wiring yeti will leave us some spares.”
Hechuckled. She closed her eyes.
Minuteslater, as she was drifting, he said in a voice thick with sleep, “G’night,pixie. I love—”
Shestiffened and came fully awake.
Hecleared his throat. “I love having you here.”
Sheeased, locking out any thought of what was to come when reality turned on itsglaring light. Instead, she marveled she could feel like this, that he couldmake her feel like this.
Beautiful.Desirable. Strong. Cherished. Sexy as hell.
What hadshe expected? A practiced touch pushing her buttons for his own gratification?Like Adrian? But Beckett continued to surprise her, for the way he handled herwas nothing like that.
That heknew his way around a woman’s body was evident. His touch had ranged fromgentle, inquisitive—as though seeking permission—to demanding, powerful, allmale. And through it all, he’d kept his eyes on her, watched her with a lover’sconcern, a lover intent on pleasing her. He had taken care, taken his time,taken his pleasure long after he’d delivered hers over and over. Tender andwarm, his looks had caressed her face and form while his words had caressed herears. He’d made her body hum in tune with his until he’d finally let go in hisown shuddering climax.
Sated,afloat in the smell of fresh linens and sex, surrounded by his spicy scent, shedropped off, aware of his body throughout the night, aware when it shifted withhers. When they pulled apart, his warmth sought hers, and he cradled her in hisstrong arms.
When sheawoke, snow still fell, but the backdrop was light gray, and the bed beside herwas empty. She ran her hand over the rumpled sheets. Where had he gone? Dreadwelled inside of her.
A dull,rhythmic scraping sounded outside, and she rose and pulled on the shirt beforepeering out a window. The mystery noise revealed itself. Beckett was shovelingsnow from the enormous driveway where her car once sat. Where did he move itto? At least he didn’t run off. Yet. How would he react when he saw herthis morning?
In thekitchen, she poured coffee into a moose-motifed mug from a steaming pot. Besideit were a spoon, a napkin, and a full creamer. Can’t be all bad if he’sstill being thoughtful, right? She smiled to herself as she sat at thecounter. Beckett soon blew in, stomping his boots and shaking snow from his hatand coat.
“So aSasquatch stole my car after all?” Her tone was light, but she had astranglehold on her cup.
Hesnapped his head up and burst into a smile that lit his face. “Morning, pixie.I brushed your car off and pulled it into the garage before it got buried. It’sstill snowing like a mother out there, and the weatherman says it won’t stopuntil tomorrow. Even my heated driveway can’t keep up.”
As soonas he’d shucked his gear, he strode to her, brushed the hair from her neck, andplanted a cold-lipped kiss below her ear, sending sinful shivers along herspine. She let her breath out. He topped off her coffee and poured his own,then leaned against the counter and stared at her.
“What?”She ran a self-conscious hand through her untamed bedhead.
“Iswear you grew more beautiful overnight.” He said it softly, reverently,
