How the Devlin Stole Christmas: A Billionaire Cowboy Prequel ~ Those Devilish Devlins Page 5

  I had to take a moment to weed out that vision she’d just planted in my head. The woman was smart, cunning, and going to give me a heart attack. Although, that meant she’d probably give me CPR too, and I was having trouble figuring out why that was a bad idea.

  Dude, it’s a bad idea.

  Okay, yeah, but I did owe her a new happy Christmas memory.

  Fine. Sit down, eat the cake…and then get the hell away from her.

  We ate cake sitting side-by-side on the wool rug, our backs against the couch and our legs stretched out in front with our toes warming nicely by the fire. The tree sat to our ten-o’clock position, looking “Christmassy.” The fire reflected off the rhinestone-studded horseshoe tree topper so brightly it could probably land airplanes.

  “How long are you visiting for?” In other words, how long would I have to leave town for?

  “I’m not visiting. I’m back for good,” she said. “I can’t breathe in the city. It’s too crowded with people too busy to say hello or even offer a smile. And how can they live without seeing the horizon? Or feel the wind in their face as they race across the fields?”

  “The city skyline doesn’t do anything for you? Having a movie theater that plays more than one movie at a time? Being able to eat out at anyplace that isn’t Bubba’s Burger Barn?”

  “Ha!” She made a delicate snort as she sliced off another bite of cake. “My roots are here. Planted deep in these hills. I need the wide open spaces and the wind blowing in my face. I need to ride over this land with my horse under me.”

  “Does your dad know that?” I set down my plate, and gazed at the flickering fire. “He always boasts about his big city career girl. He bursts with pride whenever anyone asks about you. And even when they don’t.”

  “I know. But what I’ve come to learn is sometimes people—people who love you dearly—think they know what’s best for you. So they steer you in that direction. But what if they’re wrong? Because they choose safety over happiness. What’s the point of being safe if you’re miserable? Life is about taking risks. And love makes the risk worth taking.”

  I jerked my gaze to Max and our eyes caught and held. Was she talking about her father? Or me? Either way, I didn’t have a response.

  “Thank you, Locke. This is nearly a perfect Christmas Eve.” She sighed and then licked the last bit of icing off her fork. “This is my favorite cake in the whole world. I can’t believe Dodo refused to give me the recipe.”

  Huh. Weird. Because Dodo had given me the recipe three years ago.

  “What?” Max asked, her eyes narrowing on me. “What kind of look was that?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I didn’t want to rub it in that I’d rated the secret family recipe when she hadn’t. Especially because I had no idea why Dodo would do that. She doted on Max as much as anyone. Loved her more than life.

  “You are a lying liar, Locke Devlin.” Quicker than a blink, she ditched her plate and rolled toward me, swinging one leg over me until she sat straddled on top of me. “Did Dodo give you her recipe?”

  Max’s heat was against my cock—my now rock-hard cock—and I lost track of the conversation.

  “Yes or no?” She grabbed fistfuls of my shirt and leaned forward into me.

  “Yes. I mean, no.” Her own shirt—my too large and too damn sexy on her flannel shirt—gaped open wide. Between the view of her fantastic cleavage and the weight of her pressed against my cock, I was only operating on the caveman level: impulses, urges, and grunts. “What the hell are we talking about again?”

  She froze and then wiggled her hips the littlest bit, pressing down even more.

  It was suddenly clear. Max wasn’t trying to reignite what we had together. She was trying to kill me. Hard-on kills Cowboy on Christmas Eve. Story at eleven.

  “Traditions. There’s only the one last tradition that would make this perfect.” Her gaze heated and dropped to my mouth. Then—before I could think, before I could breathe, before I could shore-up my defenses—she held the mistletoe in the air above us. “It’s okay to say no. I can toss the mistletoe into the fire and say goodnight. With a memory this nice, I can settle for nearly perfect.”

  Settle? Why the hell would you let her settle?

  Because the best thing I can do for Max is walk away.

  Are you sure about that? Are you sure you’re even strong enough to walk away from the only woman you’ve ever wanted?

  The damn devil had a point. I’d lived most of my life doing without some of the luxuries and pleasures most people took for granted. Had to learn self-control and discipline at a young age just to survive. But I looked into Max’s eyes and felt weak with need. I reached desperately for self-control, but there was none within reach.

  “What am I going to do with you, Maxie?”

  She tossed the mistletoe away without taking her gaze from mine.

  “If you’re asking for suggestions, I’ve got a list. A very long list.” Her lips curved into a sexy as hell smile and her eyes sparked with desire. “But I think if you start with a kiss, I feel certain something will come to you.”

  “It already has.” That devil on my shoulder hadn’t shut up since I’d opened the door to her. “I have a feeling we’re both going to regret this, but I can’t resist you anymore. I never could.”

  “I never asked you to,” she whispered.

  “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

  “I don’t want you to either, but I’ve got my eyes wide open this time.” Her gaze was steady on mine. “All I’m asking for in this moment is one perfect Christmas Eve memory. Make love to me, Locke Devlin.”

  10

  Max

  I held my breath, waiting for his answer.

  Locke stared at me, his eyes glinting in the firelight like liquid silver, and then he pulled me against him and took my mouth with his. Slowly at first, but then, like dry brush and a spark, the kiss ignited and quickly burned out of control. That same wild hunger that had been between us years ago roared to life. His kiss unraveled me. Tension and desire vibrated deep within me, down to the marrow of my bones.

  He lifted me off his lap, pulling me from the floor and up into his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and kissed my way up his neck and along his jawline as he moved us down the hall and into his bedroom.

  Stopping at the side of his massive king bed, he set me down in a slow slide along his body. It was delicious friction that drove me mad. His gray eyes flared like molten steel, raking over my body, hot and possessive.

  Reaching a hand behind his neck, he pulled his shirt off in one move, tossing it away. My gaze roamed over his muscled chest, over the ridges of his honed abs, and down the indents low on his hips that disappeared below his jeans. He released the first three buttons on the fly of his jeans and then sat on the bed.

  “Take the shirt off,” he said. “Slowly. I want to enjoy every sexy inch.”

  I’d never been shy, but my hands shook as I unbuttoned the shirt, one button at a time.

  When I finally released the final button he growled low in his throat. I shrugged the shirt off one shoulder and then the next. It fell in a soft pile at my feet, leaving me standing in my bikini panties.

  “Damn. If I’d known you were wearing red silk panties this whole time, I would have disconnected your battery and hid your keys myself.”

  Heat sizzled through my veins, tugging low in my belly.

  “Come here,” he said, looking like a man barely in control.

  He pulled me between his legs, his eyes firm on mine while he skimmed a fingertip down my neck and back and forth along my collarbone. My breath went shallow and my nipples went tight. His gaze moved down to my breasts and lingered a long, long moment before rising back to mine.

  “You’re beautiful. More beautiful even than three years ago, and three years ago you brought me to my knees.”

  I’d never felt like I’d had that power over him. But then, I was too b
usy falling under his spell to notice.

  Locke stood, slid his hands around my waist, and spun us around, trading places. He lowered me to the mattress, hooked his fingers into my panties, and slid them down my legs and off. Breathless with wild need, I pulled him down over me, needing his weight. Needing his skin against mine. I ran my hands over his warm, tanned skin, feeling light-headed and feverish.

  “This isn’t an eight second rodeo ride. We’ve got all night, Maxie, and I plan on taking this one slow.” His lips went back to mine, like he was starting back at the beginning. One slow, sinful, earth-shattering kiss, using his tongue to tease and taunt. He took his time, driving me crazy with that thorough, hyper-focused way of his. His hands explored my breasts and along my ribs, causing sharp spasms of need. He kissed and licked and nibbled his way down my body, leaving a trail of fire. His lips catalogued every curve and dip of my body, detouring to my hipbones before traversing across my stomach and lower. Down to my heat, making my breath hitch and my pulse pound. He made me fall apart and then he shot me into the stars.

  “You okay?” he asked, taking a slow meandering trip back up.

  “Okay?” My voice not entirely steady. “I’m a comet flying across the sky.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, his voice full of humor and a touch of pride. Yeah, he’d done magical things to my body.

  Which reminded me, I wanted to do magical things to him too. I pulled myself together and urged him back up to me, back where I could reach his mouth with mine. I raked my hand through his thick brown hair, loving the silky feel. I ran my tongue over his bottom lip, enjoying the hiss of his breath. I kissed my way along his jaw to nip his earlobe. He groaned with pleasure.

  “Your turn.” Pushing him back off me, I rested up on my elbows so I could see all of him. “Take off the jeans. Slowly. I want to enjoy every sexy inch. Huh, sort of has different meaning when I say it.”

  He laughed, not intimidated by the “every sexy inch” comment. But then, trust me, he had no reason to be. As he pushed out of his jeans and briefs, a flash of memory ripped through me. A younger Locke, laughing by the pond. One of the many times on a hot Texas summer day when we all stripped down to our underwear and jumped in to cool off. That Locke had been my best friend for years. And then he was more…and then he was gone.

  Stop it, Maxie. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Stay focused on right now. In case this is how it ends. In this one perfect memory.

  He stretched his big body back over me, nuzzling his lips along the sensitive skin of my neck.

  “I think I was right here,” he said, his deep voice vibrated through me, down to the core of me.

  I loved the press of his hard body against mine and the touch of his calloused hands over my skin, but I had things I wanted to do. I wrapped my legs around his waist and rolled, putting him on his back with me on top.

  Locke watched me with his hot gaze as I relearned his body with my hands, lips, and mouth. I stroked my hands along hard, tense muscles and he loosely tangled his fingers in my hair. I kissed a path across his warm skin and ridges of scars. The cowboy life was rough and his many scars only reminded me of his strength and willingness to take on the hard jobs. As I worked my lips and tongue down his body, his breath grew unsteady and labored, and his hand fisted in my curls, giving them a delicious tug.

  “I’m tapping out. I can’t do slow anymore.” He groaned, tugging me up until our foreheads rested together. He had one big hand wrapped around the nape of my neck and his other hand cupped my breast before sliding down my waist to hold firmly on my hip. “Are you sure about this? We can stop now if you—”

  “No.” I slid my fingers over his lips. “I want the full scenic ride, cowboy.”

  He nodded, kissed my shoulder, and rolled away to grab protection.

  And when he climbed back over me, I reveled in the weight of him, of the press of his mouth to mine, the touch of his hand stroking down my thigh. His hard heat joining mine, lifting us up and up, higher and higher, passed beautiful and into sublime.

  A husky groan escaped Locke’s lips as a shudder rolled through his body. He took possession of my mouth, joining us even closer in a wild kiss as we tumbled together.

  The power of the moment pulled me into the tumultuous undertow before propelling me back up to the surface to float along a wave of intense pleasure.

  Locke kissed my forehead before he dropped to my side, wrapped me in his arms and pulled me tight into him with my head resting against his chest.

  I ran my hand over his ribs and pressed my lips to his chest. Everything in my world felt right for the first time in years.

  “This isn’t so bad, is it?” I asked, testing the waters.

  “No complaints.”

  “This thing between us…” I pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. “It’s always been like this. It’s real. It feels like something we could build a future on…”

  “Max—” His muscles tensed under me. “You said one Christmas Eve.”

  “Right. You’re right. I’ll shut up. But…it won’t hurt to think about.” I snuggled closer, peeking up into his face. “A lifetime of Christmas Eves. Waking up in your arms on Christmas morning.”

  “Max?”

  “Yes?”

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  I did. I shut up and kissed him. Which led to a lot more kissing and, well, lots of other good stuff.

  An hour later, I was drifting off in Locke’s arms, but not before I made my Christmas wish. I prayed, pleaded, and begged for some Christmas magic.

  I fell asleep with my heart full of hope and a smile on my face.

  * * *

  I woke up to an empty bed and…the sound of a chain saw.

  Christmas magic? I should have asked for a Christmas miracle. Why did I have to fall for the most stubborn, mulish, contrary, hard-hearted, intractable cowboy in Texas?

  Sliding out of bed, I slipped on Locke’s flannel shirt and glanced out the window. Sure enough, Locke had almost finished clearing the tree from the drive.

  I walked into the kitchen and eyed the wall-mounted phone, deciding on what I should do. My pride said I should get dressed and walk out the front door with a cool, “Thanks for the ride, cowboy. Have a nice life.”

  Only my heart insisted that Locke and I were destined to be together even if he was too stubborn to admit it. Was it worth being humiliated all over again to try one last time?

  I picked up the phone and made a call.

  “Hey, I need you to come over to Locke’s place,” I said. “Bring your rifle.”

  “It’s the wrong time of year for snakes.”

  “Not for this kind of snake,” I said, feeling only a twinge of guilt. I was running out of options and time.

  11

  Locke

  I was a lowdown snake. It had been a selfish move to make love with Max. A weak, selfish move. And there was absolutely no absolving myself for making love to her a second and third time. It was a jerk thing to do and if I could kick my own ass, I would.

  And too similar to the last time my willpower had let me down around Max.

  From my first day working at the O’Conner Ranch, Max had followed me around like a duckling follows its mama. My brothers thought it was hilarious. She was like a gnat you just couldn’t swat away. But I didn’t mind because she was hard-working, fierce, good at cowboy skills, and often funny. Even more so as she grew up and put more than a few patronizing cowboys in their place.

  As we got older, I treated her like every other cowboy—up until the day she fell in the horse trough. That’s when things changed. That’s when it got complicated.

  Which was not good. No way could I touch Jed’s daughter. The man had taken me and my brothers under his wing and saved us. Given us a chance. Never having known our father, Jed was the father we wished and prayed for. So, I’d tried to put some distance between me and Max. In high school, I tried dating other girls, but they never lasted long. My brain held each
girl up next to Max and every one paled in comparison. And I missed my friendship with Max.

  I settled on a compromise. Max and I could be friends and hang out; I just wouldn’t touch her. Friends. Only friends. It was damn hard. It included a fair amount of cold showers and a lot of jerking off, but I managed to keep my friendship with Max and not disrespect Jed.

  Up until Max’s first Christmas break from college. After months away at school, Max threw herself at me, wrapped her arms around me tight, planting kisses all over my face while I laughed and soaked in the glorious feeling of being wanted by this amazing girl. On Christmas Eve, she tugged me up to the hay loft and we got lost in a kiss. It was only supposed to be a kiss.

  Until Max turned luminous eyes up to me and whispered, “Please make love to me. It has to be you. You have to be my first for making love to make any sense. I need you, Locke.”

  My willpower failed me. Max and I made love—the first time for both of us. With some awkwardness and a bit of fumbling, we created the most sublime and magical hour of our lives. Everything about it felt right. I wasn’t a romantic guy, but if two hearts really could become one, that happened that night.

  That Christmas Eve, I fell asleep in the hayloft believing in the magic of Christmas.

  Only to have my reality check the next morning. And here I was making the same mistake.

  What’s the definition of insanity? Oh, that’s right…Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Guilty as charged.

  Guilt had gotten me out of bed this morning. It had been the second hardest thing I’d ever done. Waking up with Max in my arms had felt like a gift. Like a bloody miracle. Her long silky legs were tangled with mine. She’d thrown one arm across my chest as if claiming me. I liked it too damn much.