The Billionaire's Christmas Baby

The one thing she could make out clearly was that Jackson only slept in boxers. And every inch of his long frame was solid and muscular. That strength that was so obvious, even while he slept, made her slightly nervous. After their time together and his words about never touching a woman in anger, she believed him. She did trust him in that respect.

She watched him for a few more seconds. She really should stop staring. Honestly, it wasn’t like he was the first beautiful man she’d ever seen. Okay, well, maybe the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Snap out of it, Hannah. It was an invasion of his space, and he looked fine now.

She started to tiptoe out of the room, wincing as each creak in the floor sounded louder than the storm outside. She had almost made it to the open door when a guttural cry that sent shivers down her spine tore through the room. She whipped her head around to look at Jackson. He still slept. His eyes were shut. She could make out the pain in his features, and she saw the sweat lining his forehead. He was having some sort of nightmare.

She had to wake him up, but that would mean getting close to him. What if he lashed out at her without realizing what he was doing in his sleep? Or when he woke, he could be horribly upset that she’d intruded. She couldn’t stand here and do nothing.

Her eyes scanned the room frantically and then settled on a stack of books on his bedside table. Maybe she could nudge him awake with a book. A hardcover. At least she’d be able to keep a little bit of a distance, and she wouldn’t have to touch his bare skin. Perfect.

When she saw him clench the sheet, his forearm and hand rigid with strain, she finally moved. She quickly grabbed the top book on the stack and moved beside him. She bit her lower lip and tapped him on the shoulder with the book. Then she quickly stepped back, almost tripping over her own feet.

Nothing. He still didn’t wake up.

She inched forward again, holding her breath, book in hand and plunged it into his shoulder. Suddenly a hand that felt like steel clamped down hard on her wrist and yanked her onto the bed, flipping her over and pinning her on her back. Jackson’s strong, muscular legs straddled hers and locked her arms down beside her head. She stared into his eyes and knew he wasn’t quite awake. She stayed perfectly still, her heart pounding painfully in her chest, waiting for him to become aware of what he was doing.

“Jackson.”

His eyes went from blankness to reality. He swore loudly and ducked his head, pushing off of her and rolling onto his back beside her on the bed.

Hannah lay still beside him. She tried to catch her breath but couldn’t move yet. Her body felt like a quivering mass of gelatin.

“Sorry, I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know it was you,” Jackson said a moment later, his voice raw and gruff. “Are you okay?”

Hannah struggled to regain her composure. She glanced over at him, his rigid posture unmistakable in the dim lighting. “I should be asking you that.”

He ran his hands over his face roughly. “I sometimes have, uh, nightmares.”

“I heard you from my room, I thought you were sick or I never would have come in here,” she said haltingly, not knowing if he was angry with her.

“God, I never meant to scare you.” He squeezed his eyes shut, before turning to look at her. Hannah felt her heart jolt unexpectedly at the softness in his voice. He wasn’t angry at all. He wasn’t the same man in front of the fire yelling at her to go home. She looked into his eyes and saw how soft and warm they could be. She noticed the shape of his lips. They were sensual, perfectly shaped. He had turned on his side so that he faced her completely. She was still on her back, there was no way she’d turn too… it was too… intimate.

When she lifted her eyes to meet his she saw that he was still looking at her. She remembered he had asked her if he had scared her. “You didn’t. I’m not afraid of you,” she finally answered, her voice sounding strange to her ears. “Besides,” she said, forcing herself to sound flippant, “I’ve taken lots of self defense classes. I could have tossed you to the ground with one foot if I needed to.”

The sound of Jackson’s deep laughter filled the room and made her smile involuntarily in the darkness. He had a rich and deep laugh. She didn’t want to notice that either.

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” he said, the smile still in his voice.

They were whispering in the darkness. The intimacy of the situation was not lost on her. His body was so close that she could feel the warmth emanating from him. She could smell his soap combined with his own masculine scent, and she found herself responding to him in a way that was anything but platonic. And that was not a good idea. She frowned down at her clothes. Both of them were wearing far too little clothing for two people who barely knew each other. She needed to get off the bed pronto.

“You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”

She nodded frantically as she watched his hands move to gently grasp her wrists. He looked them over. She couldn’t say anything because she had lost her voice. His hands were warm, large, and a delicious, molten heat began swimming through her as he held on. His thumb grazed the soft, velvety underside of her wrist and the innocent touch felt anything but. She quickly slipped her wrists out of his hands, needing her body to not be in contact with his, but she wasn’t prepared for the loss she felt at not having him touch her. Not good. And there was no way she was going to acknowledge the meaning behind the fact that he was the first man she found herself wanting to touch her since… a long time.

“You didn’t hurt me.” Why did her voice have to sound so breathy? She couldn’t break his gaze. The air was warm and like a cocoon, capturing them in a false sense of familiarity. She needed to get out of the room and away from an enticingly half-naked Jackson. Because right now, more than anything, she wanted to reach out to touch his bare skin. She was drawn to him and she shouldn’t have been. As soon as she got back into the safety of her own room she was going to list each despicable trait the man had and then do a personality comparison list to Ebenezer Scrooge. That should sufficiently deal with any sort of misplaced desire she had.

“I’m still sorry.” He braced himself on his forearms, watching her closely. She could make out the lighter shades of cognac in his eyes, and the softness, the warmth was still there. She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. She should be concentrating on the list.

“It was no big deal.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Why had she asked that? Why wasn’t she moving? Get off the darn bed, Hannah.

“For waking me up.” His eyes fell to her lips and she felt a heat bloom from deep within her. Then his gaze wandered up to her eyes and traveled the length of her body. Suddenly she felt like she wore absolutely nothing. She tugged roughly at the T-shirt to cover a little more of her exposed legs. And then he smiled again, a sort of sexy, satisfied grin. The kind that told her he knew exactly why she was so uncomfortable, and that he liked it.

She needed to get out of here. Again, her body wasn’t getting the message her brain was frantically communicating, so she didn’t move.

“Hannah?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you come here, really?”

She turned to look at him. “Here? Like your room?”

He shook his head. “The cabin.”

She frowned at him. “I told you, I want you to adopt your sister’s baby.”

He nodded and shrugged gently. She refused to be taken in by the display of muscles that that one little move caused to ripple through his upper body. Concentrate.

“I know, you said that, but you can’t possibly do this for all your cases. You drove through a blizzard. You tracked down a guy who changed his name, which you must’ve pulled a hell of a lot of strings to do. This goes beyond job dedication, don’t you think?”

She stared up at the ceiling, trying not to reveal any emotion. She couldn’t exactly explain something that she’d barely figured out herself. “I feel responsible, you know? I got to know your sister. I never thought she would have—” She paused for a moment. “Killed herself and then when I found Emily on the church doorstep, I—” She tried to hide the emotion in her throat but couldn’t control the catch. “I knew I had to do what’s best for her. I brought her home that night and held her. She’s this tiny, perfect, innocent little girl. She deserves the best, not to be cast aside and left with strangers. She needs someone to protect her, to give her a wonderful, happy childhood.” She stopped talking because she wouldn’t be able to hold back her pain anymore, or the rest of the truth. Lying in his bed like this made her realize how much was missing from her life. In the darkness of the night, in the warm shelter from the storm, the enigmatic man beside her made her yearn for so much—someone to speak with in the dead of the night, someone to share a bed with.

“I should go… to sleep.”