'Tis the Season to Be Tempted by Aimee Carson

Author:Aimee Carson [Carson, Aimee]
Language: ara
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781622663583
Google: zda6AQAAQBAJ
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 18720049
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2012-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

On the way up the hotel elevator, Evie elected to remain silent as she stood next to Wes. She was cold, wet, shivering. And more confused than ever before. As soon as they’d reached the luxurious lobby, Wes had draped his exquisite Armani winter coat over her shoulders, the hem reaching her calves. As he’d checked in, she’d stood by, silent, grateful for the warmth.

But the coat wasn’t nearly as enticing without Wes in it.

She’d never imagined she could feel so protected, much less that she’d like the feeling. And earlier, as she’d held him close and enjoyed the hard chest beneath her cheek, his woodsy, clean scent, she’d finally realized it was more than just attraction that she’d felt. Lust was understandable. After a year without sex—not to mention the presence of a drop-dead gorgeous man—lust was to be expected.

But the feeling of…of…coming home?

As much as she lectured herself that the notion was stupid, the sensation was strong, still lingering, fresh in her mind. Made extra ridiculous by the fact that her home had never felt quite that welcoming. Or accepting.

And never in her life had she wanted a man more than she wanted Wes right now.

She dug her nails into her palms, wishing she knew exactly how he felt about her. Was she simply the annoying girl from his past, or did he see beyond all that to the woman she’d become? And if not, was there any hope she could change his mind?

Evie’s agitation grew as the faint ping of the elevator called out the passage of each floor, and she studied Wes from the corner of her eye. The snow had left them both damp, his wet lashes spiked into a sensual hotness that should have been illegal. Wes’s long-sleeved shirt clung to the broad shoulders and chest that looked strong enough to carry the weight of the world. The winter wind had whipped up his hair, leaving it mussed, and brought a ruddy color to his cheeks. Or maybe the flush was in response to holding her?

The question continued to burn in her brain as she followed Wes out of the elevator and down the hall to the penthouse, admiring the way his pants hugged a taut backside. Ever since they’d arrived at the hotel, it was almost as if he was being careful not to touch her again. But maybe that was simply because she wanted him to.

When he slid the card through the lock and stepped back to let her inside, she was disappointed by the closed look on his face. She entered the posh sitting room, tossing his coat over the back of a chair and shedding her leather jacket. Her T-shirt hadn’t been spared when she’d plunged into the snowbank. The white cloth clung to her breasts, the wet, sheer fabric highlighting the delicate lace of her bra.

Wes closed the door and cleared his throat, shifting his gaze to some unknown distance. “You still look cold.”

He moved deeper into the room, past the couch and well-stocked bar complete with a liquor cart.

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