Million Dollar Mistake

What a pity I detest the man.
She ground her teeth as Nicholas flipped onto his back, his slight snore
echoing in the room. The man had the nerve to allow the blankets to slip to his
waist as he’d moved, which annoyed the bloody hell out of her since he had all
of them and she had none. Now he wasn’t even using them? Here she was
crystallizing into a block of ice while he squandered all of that woolen warmth.
One way or another she’d find a way to make him suffer.
If she’d wanted to be fair—which she didn’t—she’d admit that he had offered

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her blankets of her own before he passed into unconsciousness. She’d turned up
her nose and wouldn’t take them. For the first half hour, her pride had kept her
warm. But not now. She eyed the bed.
Maybe I could just sneak over there and swipe one or two covers…or even
abscond with all of them. That would teach him.
Swearing her nose was turning blue from the cold, she suppressed another
chill. Enough was enough. She struggled out of the chair and tiptoed across the
room. Standing by the bed, she reached for a fuzzy rose-patterned comforter.
Before she could remove it, Nicholas rolled again, this time onto his side, the
blanket she’d fingered now caught under his body.
Raven scowled and spit out a lewd word, the one her mother had warned her
not to use in public, a warning most of the population forgot. As her oath
hovered in the atmosphere, a huge shiver raced down her spine faster than a
greyhound chasing an electric rabbit.
I can see my breath in this room. Haven’t the Exeters ever heard of heat?
Raven wrapped her arms around her body, knowing that she must have goose
bumps the size of mountains. She shifted her longing gaze from Nicholas to the
unoccupied other side of the bed. The empty spot taunted her as if impatiently
waiting for a human form to take possession and revel in the comfort. She
suppressed a moan. The solitary pillow wooed her, the sheets tempted her, but
the blankets completed the seduction. She bit her lip for a moment, giving
Nicholas a wary glance.
What would he think if he woke up and found her in bed with him? What
would he do? Another shiver, this time from a different cause sped down her
spine. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. But then, it was her bed. It
was her bedroom. He was the intruder, not her.
Oh balls, screw Nicholas.
Raven set her mouth in a stubborn line and walked around to the other side of
the bed. She draped her flimsy satin robe over the end of the bed and sat down,
cautiously inching under the covers. She froze, holding her breath when
Nicholas moved; peeping over her shoulder, she was relieved when he settled
back into his dreams. After a moment, the warmth crept into her and her eyes
drooped. Her last thought before drifting off—
I’ll wake up early and he’ll never know I was here.
So much for good intentions.
Nicholas was dreaming. Dark erotic dreams that featured a warm, demanding
woman and a mountain of whipped cream. He could feel the sensual tickle as the
cream covered his chest and started to melt. He could feel the weight of her as

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she leaned on him to place her lips on his skin, shivering as he anticipated her
tongue touching him, stroking him. He stirred and inhaled, lifting his torso to
mold himself to the woman whose touch burned like wildfire. He could feel
every inch of his body start to shift from molten ore to hard tempered steel. He
lifted his hand and placed it on her body, his palm sliding over skin smoother
than satin, slipping into and under a mass of hair to cup the back of her neck. He
moved his head from side to side, unwilling to open his eyes, instead wanting
just to allow the sense of touch to take the brunt of the moment. It wasn’t
enough. His hunger built until he was starving, knowing that if he didn’t taste
he’d fade away into nothing.
He opened his eyes, stunned to find Raven draped across his body, her nose
and lips burrowed into his chest like a mouse seeking a hidey-hole. Her breath
stirred his chest hair, the tip of her tongue touching his skin, her wild mass of
black hair sifting against his flesh, activating his nerve endings with each inhale
she took.
One of her legs was lifted, knee bent to ride over his thighs, but not high
enough to disguise the powerful erection that was now lifting the covers like the
center pole in a circus tent. Still half-asleep, he prayed she wouldn’t move, and
just as fervently prayed she would. He lay there for a moment, trying to regain
control of his body.
God knew he wasn’t a saint. He was a healthy male with all the healthy male
responses. The fact that women made themselves available whenever he wanted
without too many problems didn’t mean he couldn’t behave when he had to. He
was a disciplined man who avoided messy affairs. His hand stroked the nape of
Raven’s neck. Hell, affairs couldn’t get any messier than this one. Involvement
with Raven was a painful way to commit suicide in Nicholas’s opinion. He
groaned as she moved, the aroused buds of her nipples stabbing his chest as her
hand crept up to his shoulder.
His control broke.