Page 11 of 40 and Flirting (with Disaster) (Silver Foxes of Black Wolf’s Bluff #5)

Eleven

W atching Jamie with Baby and her new foal felt like watching a father with his newborn child.

It softened Iris’s heart in a way she hadn’t expected, and seeing him cuddle the spindly filly and help it stand to nurse melted her almost as much as all those “sexy daddy cuddling a newborn” images on the covers of romance novels.

Her ovaries might have given up the ghost a couple of years ago—thank goodness for hereditary early menopause and not having periods till she was almost sixty—but it still felt like they exploded as she observed the aftermath of the birth from the door of the stall.

Michael seemed as involved as his father, though it was obvious Baby favored Jamie.

It wasn’t until a couple of hours after the birth, when Michael had escorted the vet to one of the ATVs to take her back to her truck, that Jamie came to the door and leaned against it.

Her heart fluttered as he lifted one arm and gripped the post that served as a doorjamb above her head.

Arm porn indeed. He even had “the lean” down pat. So unfair.

“You look dead on your feet,” he said, voice rough with use and emotion.

“Thanks,” she murmured, a wry smile quirking up one side of her tired lips.

Jamie grinned, and though it was sexy, she had to admit he looked tired as well. The exhaustion of being Baby’s birth coach looked good on him, though.

“You know what I mean.”

She nodded. “I do. And I feel guilty having you take me home.” Her fingers itched to smooth away the lines of fatigue feathering out from the corners of his eyes.

“It’s not—a—big—” The word cut off with a deep yawn.

“It’s not?” she asked. “I think it is.”

He chuckled. Stepping back, he opened the door and joined her in the center aisle of the barn. “Okay, so the excitement of the night is hitting me. Doesn’t mean I can’t drive you home.”

“Jamie, that’s an hour round trip for you.

I live on the other side of Black Wolf’s Bluff.

If I’d thought about it before we came out here, I would have called a ride hours ago.

” But she hadn’t thought about it, and now it was the middle of the night.

Did she dare wake Scarlett to come get her?

Her friend worked from home, but she didn’t want to presume that meant Scarlett could sleep in tomorrow and not be up early for work.

Jamie slid an arm around her waist, the feeling both foreign and somehow familiar, and turned her toward the open doors of the barn. “I have a proposal that might solve this dilemma.”

“You do?” she asked warily. Surely he wasn’t about to proposition her.

“My guest room is completely empty and available.”

Did she dare? Something about the idea of spending the night in Jamie’s house felt…odd. Maybe because she hadn’t “spent the night” with a man other than Kirk, well, ever. But he wasn’t inviting her into his bed. Fatigue pulled at her, urging her to accept, but…

Michael drove up as they arrived at their own ATV. Jamie handed Iris onto the vehicle, then turned back to his son. “You’ve got this covered?”

Michael gave his dad a much perkier grin than either she or Jamie could probably manage. “Of course. Got my nap in this afternoon just in case.”

“Good. Call me if anything comes up, all right?”

“Will do.” Michael winked at his dad. “Sleep well.”

Iris was too tired to blush, but the urge was there. Instead she buried her face behind Jamie’s back as he joined her on the ATV. Seconds later they were off and Michael’s laughter was left behind.

“Don’t mind him,” Jamie said after turning off the ATV at the house. “He might tease, but he doesn’t spread rumors.”

She hated to admit a surge of relief filled her.

She wasn’t doing anything wrong, even if she did choose to have sex with Jamie, but the sense that she was wouldn’t leave her.

Was it because her mind still felt like she was cheating on Kirk, despite the fact that they were divorced?

And despite the fact that she wasn’t sleeping with Jamie?

Lord, if she was going to feel guilty, she should just do it. At least then she’d have something to feel guilty about.

Just the thought of having Jamie touch her, of seeing him naked, exploring him, enjoying him, had her hot and bothered no matter how tired she was.

As he guided her off the ATV, the firm grip of his hand translated in so many ways—how he would grip her, guide her, how his touch might firm as he became more aroused.

Was he dominant in bed, or did he prefer to sit back and let her do all the work, like Kirk had?

She’d tried for years to encourage Kirk to take the lead, but after frustration had her lashing out in ways she hadn’t liked, she’d decided to let it go and accept that she at least had an enjoyable sex life, if not the one she’d fantasized about.

She’d been a virgin when she married Kirk, with virtually no experience, and felt she should at least be grateful that she experienced orgasm most of the time, unlike many of her friends through the years.

Still, the idea that Jamie might be the kind of lover she’d always daydreamed about, the kind in the romance novels she loved to read between the “literature” and nonfiction she also devoured, had her mind racing ninety to nothing in the dim light of his home.

Jamie led her down the hall they’d used earlier tonight, stopping at a large closet to gather towels and washcloth.

“You can shower in the morning if you like. Save you time when you get home.” He opened the door on the opposite side of the hall from his bedroom.

“Marylin keeps things stocked and fresh, so I know the linens have been washed and the bathroom will have anything you might need.”

Thank goodness, because the idea of making a bed at this time of night had her wanting to whimper.

She hated making beds. Seemed silly, but all that pulling and tugging and finagling drove her crazy.

She’d never admit it to anyone else, but in the past few months she’d occasionally curled up with a blanket, the pile of freshly washed sheets next to her, left to be put in place the next day.

“I appreciate this, Jamie.”

He set the towels on the neatly made bed, but Iris had little time to notice and appreciate the cream-colored comforter set with its hand-stitched embroidery before Jamie gathered her into his arms. It seemed completely natural to relax against him, to let his hard chest pillow her breasts, allow his firm arms to bring her close, aligning their bodies in ways that woke her up instead of the opposite.

And then Jamie whispered hoarsely in her ear.

“Thank you for staying, Iris. It meant so much to me to have you here, to share this with you.”

The rough emotion filling his voice left no doubt that he meant what he’d said. But why? Why did having her here mean so much? What drew this man to her? Why would he want her when she’d made it abundantly clear she wasn’t ready, might never be ready to risk her heart again?

What if your heart wasn’t at risk? You don’t have to risk anything just for sex. To be held for one night. To not be alone for a little while.

She drew back the slightest bit, just enough to look Jamie in the eye. What she saw there had the heat inside her flaming higher. Without thought, she leaned in, wanting to taste the fire she read so clearly in his eyes.

His lips were warm, somehow familiar by now—and hard. Jamie didn’t passively receive her kiss; no, he went after her tongue immediately, delving inside, tangling his tongue with hers as if he couldn’t wait to taste her.

She responded without hesitation.

All thought, all concern left her as she surrendered to Jamie’s touch.

She knew now, without doubt, that his hands did indeed touch her dominantly when he was aroused.

That his grip did become tighter. That he went after what he wanted with confidence, not a single hint of uncertainty.

That he groaned when she slid her palms up the muscles that bordered his spine, and quivered when she reversed direction, stopping just shy of the firm globes of his rear.

God, she wanted her hands there. She didn’t dare, but she did want. Her fingers itched to grip him and drag him closer.

She settled for splaying her hands in the small of his back, warming him even as the roaming of his hands warmed her.

Her nipples tight when his fingers brushed close, his hands closing on her biceps, his fingertips just grazing the sides of her breasts.

When she arched against him, her mouth opening on a gasp, he did it again. And again.

When he grazed the tips of her breasts, she couldn’t help it—she went rigid, and not with desire. With shock.

What was she doing? Was she prepared to have sex with him? That one touch brought full awareness to her mind—the direction they were heading, the overwhelming desire to let it happen, and the realization of exactly what she would be opening herself up to if they did.

A relationship. With Jamie. Because despite what she might tell herself, she knew there was no way she could take this step and have it be anything but casual.

She couldn’t divorce herself from the man she was making love to; if she hadn’t known that before, she knew it now without doubt.

Could she accept that and walk away whole?

No.

Jamie must have felt the change in her body, because he paused. “Is this okay?”

His words…God, the sound of that rough need in his voice made her ache to keep going. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t ready. Unable to speak, she shook her head.

Jamie immediately lifted his hands away from her body, but he didn’t let go. Instead, despite the urgent demand his body was making—that she was just now becoming aware of—he circled his arms around her and held her tightly against him, unmoving, as they both began the lengthy journey back to calm.

Finally, long minutes later, Jamie murmured into her hair, “Let me go get your things.”

Iris regretted the loss of his warmth as he backed away.

Maybe if she didn’t have so many hang-ups…

But no, she couldn’t think that way. This was a journey, and not one anyone could undertake or understand for her.

She hated hurting him, but she knew she had to make the decision that was best for herself.

If the time was eventually right, it would happen, but not now, not like this, with uncertainty inside her.

So she shut down the disappointment and waited for Jamie’s return.

When he entered, he held her clothes in one hand and her purse in the other. She thanked him, taking the pile, but Jamie didn’t let go. Her startled gaze shot up to his.

“Sleep well, Iris,” he said, the words sounding like gravel in his throat. She’d done that, excited him, aroused him. A flash of pleasure filled her even as he leaned in, his lips brushing hers lightly before he made a hasty retreat to the hall and shut her door.

She stood there, stunned at the intensity of such a slight kiss, stunned at the change to her life that just a few minutes could make, before a buzzing coming from her purse drew her back to reality.

Her phone. She hadn’t even realized she’d left it behind at the house. The entirety of her thoughts had been focused on Jamie and Baby and the newborn foal. Pulling the cell from her purse, she noted that the buzzing had been another in a long line of incoming texts from her daughter.

Damn.

KRISTA: Mom, where are you?!?!?!

A sigh left her. She knew her daughter well enough to know Krista wouldn’t stop texting if Iris didn’t respond, but Iris really didn’t want to respond.

She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to lie down in the warm bed and think about nothing but Jamie.

Not decisions. Not responsibility. Nothing but the warmth of the man who made her want to take risks she wasn’t sure were good for her.

IRIS: I’m here. Forgot my phone was on silent in my purse. Will talk to you in the morning! [kissy face]

And then she turned off the phone. She told herself it was to save the battery, but it wasn’t the truth.

She’d face her daughter’s wrath in the morning, but tonight was just for her.

She climbed into bed and closed her mind to guilt as she drifted off to sleep, hoping Jamie would visit her dreams like he had so many times before.