Thirty Days to Win His Wife Page 9

  Their date had brought his need for her to the forefront of his mind. Their wedding night had been weeks ago, and although he would never forget that experience, his hands could no longer feel her skin, and his tongue could no longer taste her. The kiss on her porch had refreshed everything, making it hard for him to focus on anything else. Not even long hours working in the kitchen had helped with her so nearby.

  About fifteen minutes into her bath, Tyler leaped up from his chair and marched toward the staircase. Maybe a little distance would help. He might take a shower of his own. Or bury his head under a pillow and smother the fantasy.

  He was halfway up when he heard Amelia’s voice. “Tyler?” she shouted. “Tyler, help!”

  His heart jumped into his throat. He spun on his heel and sprinted back downstairs, not stopping at the closed door of the suite. Instead he charged in, fearful he would find she’d slipped and hurt herself, or worse. She was still in the bathroom. He headed that way, his loafers skidding across the tile to a stop.

  Looking around the bathroom, he couldn’t spot an immediate problem. No blood, nothing broken. The air was heavy with steam and a tropical scent she must’ve added to the water. Amelia was in the tub with the jets turned off. She was watching him with large, surprised eyes, her hands protectively attempting to cover her nakedness in the clear water of the bath.

  “Yes?” he asked, breathless. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  Amelia bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to send you into a panic. Nothing is wrong, at least nothing serious. I’m fine.”

  Tyler took a deep breath of relief, feeling his fight-or-flight response dwindle away. It was replaced with a different kind of tension as his eyes shifted over the uncovered patches of her ivory skin in the water. Nothing scandalous was visible, but it didn’t need to be. He had an excellent memory and could easily fill in the blanks without fail. Damp strands of red hair were plastered to her neck, a rosy flush painted across her cheeks. “What do you need?”

  “There’s no towels,” she admitted with a pained wince. “I’m an idiot and I didn’t grab one before I got in. I didn’t want to drip water all over while I hunted for one. Do you know where they are?”

  Towels. Yes. That he could do. “Sure thing.” He turned and opened a narrow door that hid a linen closet. He pulled out a fluffy yellow towel that had come from her apartment and carried it back over to the tub. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry to scare you.”

  “No problem. Let me know if you need anything else.” He turned and started walking out of the bathroom.

  “Tyler?”

  He stopped and turned. “Yes?”

  Amelia had stood in the tub and quickly wrapped the towel around her. “Would you like to watch some television with me tonight? I was thinking we could pile up in the new bed and watch something together. I know the list I left for Janet had popcorn and chips, if you’d like some.”

  Tyler was a little surprised by the invitation, but he was more surprised by the seemingly shy expression on her face while she asked. It was almost as if she was a teenager again, asking if he’d like to sit with her at lunch or something. She was his best friend. Of course he’d like to watch television with her. He hadn’t suggested something like that because...things were different now. They had shared a bed on several occasions throughout the years, but lying beside one another in bed now felt more complicated than it used to. Feelings had been unleashed between them.

  The last thing he wanted was to lose the parts of their friendship he cherished the most as their physical relationship changed. Perhaps once they made the decision to cross that bridge again it wouldn’t seem like such a big deal any longer, but for now, they were in limbo. Married. Having a baby. Yet dating as though none of it had happened.

  “That’s a great idea. Are you getting out of the tub already?”

  “Yes. I’m not very good with sitting idle, even when it feels nice.”

  “Okay, well, while you’re getting dressed, I’ll see what I can find in the kitchen for snacks.”

  A smile lit up Amelia’s face, distracting him from the sight of the tiny towel wrapped around her curves. It was a contagious grin, and one spread across his own face just as easily.

  Tyler left the room so she could put on some clothes and started to hunt through the kitchen. Fortunately, Janet had put everything in very sensible places. He found a box of microwave popcorn on a shelf in the pantry. Score.

  About ten minutes later, he strolled cautiously back into the bedroom with two cans of soda, a roll of paper towels and a large bowl piled high with movie-theater butter-flavored popcorn.

  He found Amelia dressed—thankfully—and sitting on the bed cross-legged. Her hair was still clipped up on top of her head, but she’d removed her makeup, leaving her skin clean and fresh. She was wearing her pajamas—a pair of pale blue cotton lounging pants with a matching tank top. The top had thin spaghetti straps and a lacy edge that gave the impression of modesty where there was none. There was no disguising Amelia’s assets in anything short of a turtleneck.

  Tyler went around to the other side of the bed and unloaded the contents of his arms into the space between them. Currently, the only television in the house was from Amelia’s apartment. He’d opted to put it in the bedroom, since they really didn’t have much in the way of living room furniture for now.

  Amelia flipped on the television, then piled the pillows up behind her. She accepted the can of soda from Tyler, resting it between her thighs since they also didn’t have nightstands yet. “Ooh,” she said, looking over at the bowl of popcorn. “That looks like the really buttery, nasty kind. I love it.”

  Tyler chuckled. “I would’ve thought that such cheap, pedestrian fare might offend your refined palate.”

  At that, she snorted. “People like that make me crazy. Whenever I watch those cooking competitions and the chefs are whining because they have to use canned ingredients or something, I just roll my eyes. The average working mom does not have the time to deal with freshly preparing a meal from scratch every night. Real people eat canned foods sometimes. And microwave popcorn,” she added, shoveling a handful into her mouth.

  They flipped through the channels, finally agreeing on a mermaid mockumentary on the Discovery Channel. They heckled and joked, laughing throughout the show and polishing off all their snacks. It was just like old times, Tyler thought with an overwhelming sense of relief.

  Tyler didn’t have much time for dating, but when he did, this was always what he was missing from his other relationships. He liked to keep things light and fun, but for some reason, the women were always so serious, as if he was the Lombardi Trophy in the Super Bowl of marrying well. Those women wouldn’t dare to be seen without makeup or to be silly with him, but he supposed in the end it didn’t matter what was lacking. He wasn’t going to fall in love with them. If he wanted friendship and compatibility, he would go to Amelia.

  Looking over, he realized Amelia had drifted to sleep beside him. Her red-gold lashes rested against her cheeks, her pink lips softly parted. She must have been exhausted. He felt an ache in his chest as he looked at her lying there. All those other poor women had been doomed before they’d even started. He hadn’t really needed them for anything but a sexual release when he had Amelia in his life. His ex-fiancée, Christine, had known that. Even though he’d loved her, even though he’d proposed to her and wanted to start a life together, she’d felt like a third wheel. Maybe she had been.

  Through a strange turn of events, it seemed Amelia was going to be the woman in his life. Fortunately, she was the one woman with whom he knew it was possible to have it all. They had the friendship. The sexual compatibility was there. He hadn’t stopped wanting her since he’d allowed himself to think of her that way.

  As
for love, she just had to be open to loving him. He had twenty-six days left. If she loved him by then, that would be as good as it could possibly get. They would stay married, raise their child together... Tyler could be happy with that. He didn’t need or want love for himself. In the end, it just made things harder.

  Tyler slowly lowered the volume on the television and turned it off. He picked up the empty bowl of popcorn and eased toward the end of the mattress, trying to slip out of bed without waking her. He failed.

  “Stay,” she muttered into her pillow without opening her eyes. “This house is too big and I don’t want to be alone down here. Please.”

  With a sigh, he put the bowl on the floor and switched off the lights before he climbed back into bed.

  “Yay.” Amelia yawned, snuggling up next to him and immediately falling back asleep.

  Tyler wished he was so lucky. The scent of her perfumed skin so close to him and the soft heat of her body pressed against his made sleep impossible. He shut his eyes and tugged her close. If he couldn’t sleep, he could at least lie contented with her in his arms.

  It was going to be a very, very long night.

  * * *

  Amelia was burning up. She woke up in the middle of the night with an unfamiliar warmth pressed against her back and an arm draped over her. It took a full five to ten seconds for her to remember where she was and who was touching her.

  Tyler. She’d asked him to stay with her tonight.

  That she didn’t mind, but at the moment, his internal furnace was making her back perspire. It was like sleeping with a hot water bottle. Turning her head to look over her shoulder, she found him on his side, snoring softly near her ear.

  She eased ever so gently away from him. The movement was enough for him to mumble and roll onto his back, liberating her. She sat up in bed, looking down on him as he slept. The poor guy was still wearing his clothes from today. Those jeans couldn’t be comfortable, but she knew he would rather be uncomfortable than get into bed without them and make her ill at ease.

  Reclining onto her elbow, she looked down at him. His face was perfectly relaxed in sleep, something he never seemed to be anymore. There was no tension in his square jaw, no crinkles of thought around his eyes. Just peace. She wanted to reach out and touch his cheek to feel the rough stubble of his perpetual five-o’clock shadow. She wanted to feel his soft lips against hers again. But she wouldn’t. He’d worked hard today, and she wouldn’t wake him up for something so trivial.

  As if he’d heard her, his eyes opened and he looked at her. There was no confusion or dreaminess in his gaze. Only a powerful need that hit her as surely as if she’d been punched in the stomach. Without hesitation, his palm went to her cheek. His touch was a match to a forest in drought. It started a pleasurable heat spreading like wildfire through her whole body.

  “Amelia?” he asked, his voice gruff with sleep.

  “Yes,” she replied to his unasked question.

  He buried his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and tugged until her mouth met his. Neither his hands nor his mouth were gentle, and she didn’t mind. She liked the rough feel of his stubble against her cheeks and the sharp press of his fingertips into her flesh.

  His tongue thrust into her mouth and slid along her own, making her core pulsate with the anticipation of more. She wanted to be closer to him, to touch him again. He had been right before—once they’d crossed that line there was no sense holding back any longer.

  She threw one leg over his hips and straddled him. The move put her sensitive center in direct contact with the throbbing heat of his desire. The thin cotton of her pajama pants did little to dull the sensations that shot through her when they touched.

  Amelia was desperate to liberate him from his jeans. Her palm slid along the hard muscles of his stomach, seeking out the button of his fly and stroking him through the denim.

  Her fingers had barely brushed the button when in one swift move, Tyler rolled them across the bed. Amelia found herself with her back to the mattress and him between her thighs. His palms sought out her wrists, pinning them over her head. All through this, he never stopped kissing her.

  When he finally let her mouth free, it was to taste her throat. Still holding her wrists with one hand, he used the other to gently tug her tank top up and over her head, leaving it tangled around her wrists with her breasts exposed. He didn’t hesitate to capture one hardened pink nipple in his mouth, drawing on it until Amelia cried out and bucked her hips against him. His teeth and tongue worked her flesh, sending pleasurable shock waves through her whole body.

  “Let go of my hands,” she whispered.

  “No,” he answered between flicks of his tongue across her sensitive skin.

  What did he mean, no? “Please,” she begged. “I want to touch you.”

  “I know,” he said, looking at her with a wicked smile curling his lips. “But if you do, it will be all over. I can’t take it.” His mouth returned to her breast, effectively ending the conversation.

  All she could do was writhe beneath him, drawing her knees up and thrusting her hips forward to rub agonizingly against the hard ridge of his jeans.

  He growled low against her sternum. “Two can play at that game.” He glided his palm over her hip and under the drawstring waistband of her pants. His insistent fingers easily found her moist center, stroking hard.

  Amelia cried out, the sound echoing through the mostly empty bedroom. “Tyler!” she gasped as he rubbed her again and again. She felt herself start to come undone, but the more desperate she became, the more he eased back, leaving her teetering on the edge.

  At last, he let go of her arms, but it was only to sit back on his knees. He whipped his T-shirt over his head and threw it to the ground. With the use of her hands back, she did the same. His hands gripped both sides of her pajama pants, tugging them and her panties down over her hips and to the floor.

  Standing at the end of the bed, he stopped to look down at her. Only the moonlight from the nearby window lit the room, which made Amelia feel a little less self-conscious about being sprawled out in front of him like this. That, and the look on his face. It was as though he was in a museum admiring a piece of art. A piece of art he wanted to devour.

  Without looking away from her, he unzipped his jeans and slipped out of the last of his clothes. Crawling back up the bed, he covered her body with his own. Without hesitation, he found her entrance and moved into her.

  Amelia gasped, her body tightening around the sudden invasion. He filled her completely, leaving her biting her lip and pressing her fingers desperately into his shoulders.

  “Amelia,” he groaned at her ear, slowly withdrawing and filling her again. “I never imagined...” he began, his voice drifting away. Shaking off a shudder that made his whole body tremble between her thighs, he started moving in earnest.

  Rational thought slipped away as only the physical drive inside of her remained. Amelia wrapped her legs around his waist and tried to absorb every wave as it washed over her. “Yes” was all she could say. It was an encouraging plea, a desperate demand and an enthusiastic consent all rolled together at once.

  And then it happened. The dam broke inside of her. A sudden rush of pleasure swept her up and carried her away. She cried out, bucked her hips against him, clung to him, all the while aware of his soft, encouraging words in her ear.

  Her own release had barely subsided when she felt Tyler tense in her arms. He surged forward like never before, pounding hard into her body before roaring loud into the night.

  Amelia held him until it was over. She expected him to distance himself, to roll away the minute it was done, but he didn’t. He stayed there, inside her, examining the curves of her face.

  “What is it?” she asked after a few minutes under his intense scrutiny. She brought her hands up to smooth the un
ruly strands of her hair. “I probably look a fright.”

  His gaze met hers and he smiled softly. “No, of course not. You look perfect. The sexiest thing I’ve ever woken up to. I just...never imagined being with you would be like this. If I’d known...” His voice drifted away.

  Tyler never finished the sentence, but he didn’t need to. Amelia knew exactly what he meant.

  Seven

  Thank goodness it was Saturday.

  For some, Saturdays were days for barbecues, college football games and relaxation. For Amelia, Saturday meant all-day wedding chaos, but today she was grateful for it. Her mind had to stay focused on work, so there was zero time to sit and analyze what they’d done last night. Well, aside from fifteen minutes in the shower when she washed the scent of him from her skin and tried to ignore the memories of making love to Tyler only a few hours earlier.

  Amelia had not intended on that happening so soon. They were dating, but it was still early on, despite moving in together. None of that had seemed important at the time. She’d gotten caught up in the moment. The fuzzy edge of sleep had blurred her thoughts. When he’d touched her, all she could think about, all she’d wanted, was to fall into his arms again. So she’d gone with it.

  In the end, sleeping with the man who was technically her husband was hardly newsworthy. The reality seemed more complicated than that when your husband was your best friend and you were starting an impromptu family together. Of course, this whole process would be easier if she stopped fighting it. The thirty-day challenge wasn’t supposed to be a battle; it was supposed to be a trial run. And Tyler was doing his part. He’d done everything she’d asked of him so far, and then some. His every action seemed to be motivated by his thoughtful nature. He was kind. He cared about her and what was best for her and the baby. They didn’t always agree on what those things were, but marriage was about compromise.