Be Mine at Christmas(37)
Author: Brenda Novak

What the hell, he decided. Why worry about an erection? If he wasn’t hard already, he would be the second he touched her.

“Sure.” Silently cursing his unmistakable reaction to her, he felt his way over. With the dampness that seemed to permeate everything, their clothes hadn’t had a chance to dry. He was still in his boxers and she was in her underwear, but he stripped off his coat and Cox’s boots and climbed in. Then he used the blankets to cover the bag.

AT FIRST, ADELAIDE WAS timid about curling up against Maxim. They remained stiff, lying next to each other without speaking or moving. But as the minutes passed, she snuggled closer, eventually wrapping her arms around him. She could feel his erection pressing boldly against her abdomen—everything about Maxim Donahue was bold—but she didn’t react to his arousal. And he kept his hands to himself, letting her take what she wanted from his body without asking for anything in return.

Adelaide tried to be appeased by that, but she quickly realized one-sided cuddling wasn’t very satisfying. “Do you think you could act a little less…unwilling to be here?” she whispered.

He complied by shifting so she could lie on his shoulder, and she grew warm. She expected him to relax and drift off to sleep, but he didn’t. His erection remained firm and ready, an ever-present reminder of what they’d shared last night. Soon she caught herself changing positions so she could feel the pressure of it.

“Adelaide?” He spoke her name gruffly.

“Yes?”

“Any chance you could hold still?”

“Sure,” she said, embarrassed. But her embarrassment lasted only as long as her restraint. Reckless abandon seemed to be taking over. It started with a burning sensation low in her belly and was spreading through her veins, making her heart beat faster and faster, urging her to get on top of him….

“They’ll be here in the morning.” His voice sounded strangled, and she could feel the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunch as she straddled him.

“What if they’re not?” she whispered, moving to make the contact even more erotic. She knew what he wanted, and she was willing to give it to him. Why was he so reluctant? It wouldn’t be their first time….

“They will be,” he insisted.

“This could be our last night on earth.”

She thought he understood her point when his hands slid lower, curved possessively around her bu**ocks. But then he said, “I can’t pretend to be Mark again. If I make love to you, it’ll be because you want me, not him.”

So that was the problem.

Suddenly, all the desire that’d been pounding through her drained away. Not because she expected Maxim to be someone he wasn’t. She hadn’t been thinking about Mark. She’d been eagerly exploring a body that was nothing like her late husband’s. She’d forgotten all about him.

But that was exactly what was bothering her. She couldn’t believe it was possible to forget him so easily, especially with his worst enemy.

Sliding off Maxim, she turned away, trying to figure out how she could be so disloyal to the one man she’d promised to love forever.

CHAPTER NINE

HE’D DONE THE RIGHT thing, Maxim told himself. Their lovemaking would have no meaning if she was merely pretending again, and he wanted her too badly for a meaningless encounter. But that didn’t stop the disappointment that rolled through him when she moved off him.

It’s better this way. Why, he couldn’t say from one second to the next, not with her rear pressed into his lap, which seemed to interfere with his thinking. But he tried to believe he’d made the ethical choice. The night would pass. They’d get home. And then he’d be glad he exercised some restraint.

Meanwhile the minutes dragged by like hours and he couldn’t relax, couldn’t sleep. He kept replaying those few moments after she’d asked him to hold her. She’d been so eager to touch him, so eager for him to touch her. She’d even climbed on top of him! Why had he forced her to reconsider?

Because he was trying to be fair. Because he’d wanted her to offer herself without any coaxing…

Closing his eyes, he struggled to shut out the appealing scent of her hair, but it filled his nostrils every time he drew a breath. Had she gone to sleep? He was pretty sure she had. She hadn’t moved in a long time, ever since she’d turned her back to him.

Confident that she wouldn’t know the difference, he allowed himself to curve more fully around her. He wanted to touch her breast but didn’t go that far. He merely kissed her bare shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, but he wasn’t sure why he was apologizing. For being unable to accept less than everything she had to give? For knowing that the man she loved with such devotion was a liar? For his outspoken criticism of Mark, which had put her on that plane in the first place?

Maybe he was apologizing for it all.

PALE TENDRILS OF LIGHT threaded their way through the windows of the Cessna’s carcass. It was morning. It had been for some time, but Adelaide remained still. She didn’t want to wake Maxim. She preferred to luxuriate in the secure feeling of his arm anchoring her to him and the memory of him kissing her shoulder last night.

I’m sorry. Why had he felt the need to apologize? He hadn’t done anything more to her than she’d done to him. They’d both been slinging insults over the past several months. Besides, the race didn’t seem to matter anymore.

So what had motivated those softly uttered words? They were so…uncharacteristic of him. He was tough, demanding, uncaring, ambitious—wasn’t he?

Definitely. But if that was all he was, why would he care whether or not she pretended he was someone else? Was it pride?

She’d chosen to think so, until his apology had made her reevaluate. She hadn’t been able to categorize it under any of the bad qualities she’d assigned to him. She was convinced he wouldn’t have said what he had if he’d realized she was awake.

So who was Maxim Donahue? Was he really as bad as she believed him to be?

Moving carefully, she maneuvered herself to face him. He didn’t wake; he just stirred, then drew her against him as if they were regular and familiar lovers.

She laid her ear on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, praying that the steady rhythm would soon be drowned out by the rotary blades of a rescue copter. But she was afraid rescuers wouldn’t be able to spot them. Judging by the obscure quality of the light, the latest snowfall had nearly buried the plane. Was the emergency transmitter working? Was the storm over?