A Wrong Bed Christmas: Ignited. Liz Talley

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      LAYTON WAS TIRED, grumpy and his balls ached, but he had to admit that in spite of the fact that Alexis was a firecracker with a short fuse, she felt pretty good in his arms.

      And that thought right there was why it was apparent that he wasn’t right in the head.

      “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about...uh, you know.”

      Eloquent. He nearly bit his tongue in half with embarrassment at his bumbling apology, but was there a more suave way to apologize for sleep-sexin’ someone up?

      “All I’m saying is that I’m not that kind of guy,” he added gruffly.

      Alexis seemed to accept that he was being truthful and nodded, though her cheeks brightened a bit. “Sure. Honest mistake, I guess.”

      “Yeah.”

      Layton set her gently on the bed and started to leave, but Alexis stopped him, saying, “Um, so, yeah, sorry about your balls. Self-defense 101, take out the jewels.”

      “Effective. It’ll be a miracle if I can have kids.”

      She bit her lip around a smile when she realized he was kidding.

      Layton exited the bedroom just as Emma was entering. Emma shot Layton a quick look and then joined Alexis on the bed.

      “Well, that was eventful,” Alexis said with an embarrassed laugh to break the ice. “I bet that was hecka awkward with Erik. Sorry about that. Are you traumatized for life?”

      “It’s okay,” Emma murmured, but there was a subtle flush to her cheeks that made Alexis wonder if Emma had enjoyed the view. Okay, so if Alexis were being objective, her brother was pretty decent to look at, so she supposed it wouldn’t be far-fetched to imagine Emma liking what she saw. But Alexis couldn’t go there. Emma was her best friend since grade school. Erik had pulled Emma’s pigtails and made fun of her braces. Alexis shuddered. “Let’s chalk this night up to one unfortunate incident and try to forget about it. Tomorrow, we’ll hit the road as soon as the roads are clear. Sound good?”

      “Mmm-hmm.” Emma climbed into the bed and was already snuggling up to the pillow, all too ready to return to dreamland.

      But it wasn’t that easy for Alexis. Her adrenaline was still pumping and, worse, the memory of those heated dream kisses that turned out to be real, after all, was making her restless.

      She should’ve known that something was off when she’d been so incredibly aroused in her dream. No dream was that good.

      Not even if chocolate was involved.

      She liked to think of herself as relatively smart—she was, after all, in the master’s program for her business degree—but if one looked at her track record with relationships, she might not appear to be so intelligent.

      Which was why she’d made a vow to herself that until she finished school she was not going to even think about guys. Boys, as her dad used to warn her, were bad news.

      Except her brother, of course; Erik was a doll.

      But all other boys...were persona non grata.

      A small sigh escaped her lips. Goodbye fun times, hello celibacy.

      It wasn’t for forever—just until she got her act together and on track.

      So why did it feel like a death sentence?

      * * *

      LAYTON RUBBED THE sore spot on his dome and tried to ignore the dull, throbbing ache from where the book had connected with his shoulder, not to mention the residual sore spot from where Alexis had abused his groin.

      Erik had mentioned his younger sister was living with him for the time being while she finished her master’s degree, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about the woman being a live wire.

      Erik also hadn’t mentioned anything about how gorgeous his sister was.

      That part shouldn’t matter, he reminded his randy self as he closed his eyes against the pain. Sexy and crazy were a bad combination—like pickles and eggs on a peanut butter sandwich or Tabasco sauce on chocolate. All sorts of bad and bound to give you indigestion.

      But even as he knew it was better to just go to sleep and forget all about Alexis Matheson...how was he supposed to forget the memory of that hot woman writhing in his arms, her mouth on his? Guilt nudged at him. If Erik knew where Layton’s mouth had been, Layton would have more than an aching dome to contend with. But damn, if she’d been that hot asleep, what was she like when she was awake?

      Those kinds of thoughts were not helpful, he told himself.

      Neither was the fact that when she’d leaped from the bed wearing next to nothing, he’d gotten an eyeful of rounded, feminine hips and a rack that wouldn’t quit. A nice, generous handful for sure. And that thin silky chemise hadn’t given much coverage. He was pretty sure he’d caught a tantalizing view of her breasts—and what his eyes had only caught a glimpse of, his hands had touched, albeit without his conscious knowledge, and he couldn’t stop replaying the memory.

      Aaaannnnd cue the boner.

      Goddamn.

      Erik would set him on fire if he knew what kind of thoughts he was having about his little sister.

      Hey, it’s not as if she’s a kid, a voice protested in his head. Likely the same part of his brain in charge of his downstairs region. Layton pushed at his growing erection with irritation and an increasing sense of frustration. He wasn’t going to jerk off on his buddy’s couch. Just go to sleep. Tomorrow would come soon enough and he could bail. Right about now he wished he’d just ignored Erik’s offer to stay and taken his chances on the road.

      Erik was his buddy, a good man and a better firefighter. They shared the same shift and looked out for one another and that meant he couldn’t start looking cross-eyed at the guy’s sister.

      Layton tossed back the blankets and climbed from the couch, needing aspirin for his head. Padding quietly into the kitchen, he began opening cabinets in search of a painkiller when a voice at his back made him turn.

      “Okay, I’m willing to overlook the fact that you climbed into my bed without asking, but now you’re rummaging through my cabinets? Should I be worried? If I find you going through my underwear drawer next, we’re not going to be friends.”

      Alexis stood there, wrapped in a filmy robe that wasn’t much more coverage than the shirt and panties she’d been sporting earlier, and he wondered what he’d done in a past life to deserve such a test. He also noticed she was still favoring her right foot.

      “Just looking for aspirin. Someone hit me in the head with a shoe,” he responded, trying to keep his eyes from straying. “You really did a number on that ankle. You ought to have it checked out.”

      “It’s nothing. I twisted it a little when I was chasing after you. It’ll be fine by morning.”

      “Are you sure? Sprains can do some damage.”

      “I’ll take that under consideration.” СКАЧАТЬ