Santa Assignment

And sex.

Brayden quickly pushed aside that thought. It probably had something to do with the fact that earlier in the evening he’d spent some time in the collection room at the clinic donating his contribution for the artificial insemination. Difficult not to think of sex after that.

“I thought it was someone breaking in,” she said, climbing off him. Not easily, either. There was a lot of slippery sliding contact that reminded Brayden he was a man. And that she was a woman.

She rolled to the side, flopped onto her back and lay there, most likely so she could catch her breath. Brayden tried to do the same.

“I didn’t hear the garage door open so I didn’t think it was you,” she explained.

“I figured the garage door would wake you up so I parked in the drive and came in through the back.”

More of those gusty breaths punctuated by some mumbling. “I was already awake.”

“Obviously.” He forced himself to get up and then offered her a hand. Ashley latched onto him, and he helped her to her feet. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No. How about you?”

He wouldn’t dare mention the stars whirling around his head or the bruise he’d almost certainly have on his butt. “I’ll live.”

Brayden reached over and turned on the light. A huge mistake. Major. Ashley might not have been sleeping when he arrived, but she was definitely ready for bed.

She wore pajamas. Not some baggy, formless outfit, but Christmas-red silk pj’s that clung to just about every inch of her. The top was short. Cropped. And it cropped just enough to expose about an inch or so of her bare stomach.

No bra.

How did he know that?

Because the top was also snug, and he could see the exact shape of her breasts. Small. Firm, from the looks of them. And for reasons Brayden didn’t want to explore, he looked.

With that look, he felt his body make all kinds of suggestions. Bad suggestions. Suggestions he had no intention of acting on. Brayden forced his attention from her breasts to her face.

Not a great idea, either.

Her hair was tousled, framing her face. Emphasizing that naked mouth and her eyes. It was a reminder that he’d never seen her without her makeup in her pj’s.

It didn’t seem as if it was something he should be seeing now, either.

“Uh, how was Colton?” Ashley asked, licking her lips. Not a come-on kind of lick either. A fidgety kind of lick. She was nervous.

Welcome to the club.

Brayden was glad she came up with a suitable subject. Because raunchy thoughts aside, he was drawing a blank in the particular area of where they should go from here.

“He’s better. He said to tell you hello. Oh, and he also said I should remind you about the snow thing.” He paused, shaking his head. “What’s that about anyway?”

“He wants snow for Christmas. I told him I’d see what I could do.” She folded her arms over her chest. Which meant she probably knew he’d been gawking at her breasts.

Great. Just great.

In addition to thinking he was naval lint, now she probably thought he was a pervert.

She checked the clock. “Colton was up late, huh? Is that usual for him?”

“It wasn’t that late. Not really. I dropped by his room around nine. Tucked him in. Kissed him good-night. And then I had to go to the clinic where the insemination will be done. That’s why I’m just now getting home.”

That, and the fact that he’d circled the block for the past forty-five minutes.

“Is there a problem at the clinic?” Ashley asked, some alarm in her eyes.

He shook his head. “The doctor met me after hours so I could do some paperwork. Plus, I needed to use the collection room,” he added, after clearing his throat.

Brayden saw the moment his meaning registered. “Oh. Got it.” She actually blushed, shuffled her feet, licked her lips and generally looked as uncomfortable as he felt. “No news on the tests I took earlier?”

“Nothing yet, but the doctor put a rush on them so we should know something before morning.”

“A rush?” she repeated.

“Yes. Because he was concerned that we might miss your ovulation. Which would mean waiting another month. Anyway, I told the lab to call though as soon as they had results. So, if you hear the phone, that’s probably who it’ll be. Once we know when you’ll be ovulating, then we can schedule the insemination.”

Of course, they’d have to verify that she was a suitable candidate for insemination first, but Brayden was hoping they’d get past that hurdle without any problems. That’s why he’d gone ahead with the collection so they would be prepared.

Ashley slid her fingers through her hair, ruffling it, and hiking up her top in the process so he could see even more of her stomach. Not that he wanted to see more. When her hair fell back in place, it somehow managed to look even hotter than it had before.

And that was Brayden’s cue to head to bed.

If her mussed hair and bare stomach were making him have dirty thoughts, then he didn’t need to be in the general vicinity of her.

It was probably just adrenaline or fatigue. Or the fact that his body was on alert because of his trip to the collection room.

“Collection room?” Ashley mumbled under her breath, and Brayden thought maybe he’d said that last part aloud. It gave him a moment of panic. But apparently he’d said aloud no such thing because Ashley didn’t looked astonished, only a little queasy.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Collection room,” she repeated. “Insemination. Sorry, but it all has sort of an ick factor to it.”

Okay. That helped with the raunchy thoughts, but it sent his stomach into a tailspin. “You haven’t changed your mind about doing this?”

“No. Oh, no. Of course not. It’s just…” She made a circular motion with her fingers as if she were trying to figure out how to explain what was on her mind. “The thought of it is a little, well, icky.” Another ruffling of her hair. “I’m not making any sense.”

“You are. I understand. There’s nothing natural about it.” And he should know. He was the one who’d been in that collection room.

Even though there was something about this, about Ashley, that felt natural.

Not in a comforting sort of way, either.

Brayden hitched his thumb toward his room, and he almost managed to say a good-night. Almost. But other than the lustful thoughts about her stomach, mouth and hair, he had one other thing on his mind.

“I haven’t thanked you—”