Page 30 of The Cowboy's Christmas Baby
He picked up on the rhythm she set. She placed her hands over his, gripping his wrists. Heat rose in her belly and sparked a rippling reaction that had small, tight muscles clenching in joyful expectation. Sensing her orgasm building, he thrust harder and deeper until they were both breathing heavily, and further speech was impossible.
Pinpricks of light exploded inside her head as her orgasm erupted and pleasure consumed her. Miles stiffened. She heard him cry out past the roar in her ears. One of them muttered,oh, God, and she suspected it might have been her.
The intensity ebbed and she went limp in his arms, her cheek pressed against his throat as they rode the last waves together, with him pulsing and throbbing inside her. She couldn’t move and had no desire to do so.
The soft, idle stroke of his fingers against her cheek brought her back to the moment. They hadn’t even fully undressed. His shirt hung, half-unbuttoned, and his trousers flapped wide at the zipper. Her dress was a sorry mess at her waist. The detachable sleeves bunched around her elbows.
Miles combed his fingers through her hair, carefully smoothing out tangles. “Now that we’re well past the no-talk-during-foreplay stage, am I allowed to ask if it was as good for you as it was for me?”
“It was okay. I’d give it a seven or eight.” More like an eleven. But his ego was healthy enough. Why overinflate it?
“Tough crowd.”
He tumbled her to the sofa and disposed of the condom. Then he stooped, and before she deciphered what he had planned, she found herself draped over his shoulder like a sack of buckwheat. He patted her bare bottom, then left his hand on her left butt cheek, his broad palm spreading heat and ideas.
“That was round one. Rounds two and three will take place in the bedroom. You have an item of jewelry attached to your belly that I’ve been curious about. And when we’re finally done putting all your condoms to the test, you’re going to be bone-tired and so satisfied, you’ll sleep until Christmas.”
Chapter Ten
Miles
Asolid knockon the exterior door woke Miles from a deep sleep. He had no urge to move to find out who it might be. If it was an emergency, they’d knock harder and there would be shouting.
The second knock came again with more momentum behind it. Miles burrowed his face into Tate’s hair, breathing deep. Still no shouting. Until then, he was staying right where he was.
“Miles? You in there?”
Miles bolted upright. That sounded a lot like his dad. But it couldn’t be. His dad was in Texas.
Now he had to investigate because whoever it was, they were a heartbeat away from waking up Iris and Tate, and they’d both had a late night. His groin tightened a notch at thoughts of the reasons for Tate’s. If that wasn’t his dad, they’d better have a good reason for the early morning disturbance.
He pulled on the dress pants he’d somehow kicked under the bed, not wasting precious seconds on finding his shirt. The trailer door wasn’t locked, and if it was his dad outside—which the knot in his stomach foreshadowed—then a closed door wouldn’t stop him.
He opened the door to find his father impatiently stamping his feet to stay warm against a cold winter wind. Even better—or worse, all things considered—his mom was here, too.
They all stared at each other.
His father ran out of patience first. “Aren’t you going to let us in? We had a long drive and it’s damned cold out here.”
“You drove all the way from Laredo?”
“We drove from the airport Hilton in Billings.” His dad’s terse tone added,idiot.
But all Miles could think of was Iris asleep in one bedroom and a naked Tate in the other. He wasn’t sure which girl was going to be harder to explain, but there was no doubt he’d have to explain both, and he had to buy himself a few extra minutes to determine how to best go about it. His parents looked pleasant enough, but when it came to ferreting out truth from their children, Vincent and Helen Decker formed a formidable pair—a no-holds-barred, parental tag team of pro heavyweight champions.
Iris, of course, took that moment to decide to wake up. Normally, she played in her crib for a bit. This morning, after a late night, she was out of sorts, and judging by the impressive strength of her lungs, she was hungry.
His parents, still on the stoop, froze—and not from the cold, which admittedly, was fierce, even by Montana standards.
His mother blinked. “Do I hear ababy?”
“I…” Miles’s voice died away, because yes, that was a baby she heard. No mistake about that.
And because things weren’t bad enough yet, Tate launched herself out of the bedroom in response to Iris’s cries. She wore his shirt and not a stitch of anything else, which was going to be really awkward for him to explain—although his parents weren’t stupid, so not as much explanation would be required on that front.
Tate saw they had company, and in typical Tate style, carried on as if running around half naked was nothing unusual for her. She disappeared into Iris’s room with his shirttail flashing behind her.
His mother pushed him aside and hustled into the trailer, his dad hot on her heels.
