All He Wants for Christmas

by Karen Booth

  He pressed more soft kisses against her stomach. “Do you want me to use a condom?”

  She giggled a bit. “You do know I’m pregnant.”

  “And I want to be sure you know that I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone in a very long time.”

  She loved that he showed such utter care and concern, but she was confounded by what he’d said. He was so damn handsome and sexy. It seemed improbable that he didn’t have women vying for him constantly. Perhaps that was a topic for another time, when she didn’t have such urgent needs. “We’re good then.”

  He stretched out next to her, a truly magnificent male specimen, strong and muscled, but nimble and lean. He dropped back his head when she coiled her fingers around him and stroked his length. She could hardly believe how much tension his body was holding. When their eyes connected, he looked as if he wanted to consume her, which was a good thing. It was exactly what she wanted.

  “Is it better for you and the baby if you’re on top or the bottom?” he asked.

  She hadn’t thought about this. She’d never had to worry about her pregnant belly before, but it was still a very modest pooch. It wouldn’t get in the way. “I want to be on the bottom this time. I want to feel you weigh me down.”

  “And that’s okay with the baby?”

  “Right now? Yes. She’s the size of a tennis ball.”

  Andrew positioned himself between her legs and she arched her back to meet him, welcoming him as he sank into her. He took things slow and careful, with a patience she relished. Her mind swam as their bodies met and she began to experience each delightful physical sensation. She’d hadn’t taken the time to let her fantasies about Andrew venture this far, but nothing could have prepared her for how good he felt.

  He rolled his hips when his body met hers. It built the pressure at her apex quickly, her breaths coming faster now. Her hands roamed over the muscled landscape of his back, trailing down to his spectacular backside. His kisses were deep and passionate, matching the steady and satisfying rock of their bodies. She wrapped her legs around him, wanting him closer. Deeper.

  She placed her hands on the side of his face, keeping his lips to hers. She wanted to be connected with him when she came apart at the seams. She kept her mind focused on the here and now, waiting only for the bliss awaiting her, without a worry in the world.

  * * *

  Miranda was close—he could feel it. He sensed it in every sexy movement of her body. He was fighting off his own orgasm, which was a near impossible task. Concentrating on her breaths and the grip of her hands on the side of his face was the only way to do it. They were a beautiful distraction from the pressure coiling tight in his belly.

  Her breathing was ragged now. Every pleasurable sound she made was a boost to his ego, but he wasn’t prepared for the moment when she called his name, clutching his back and digging her nails into his back. The pain was such a delicious counterpoint to the pleasure as she tensed around him, her body holding on to his as if she’d never let go.

  Tension had him wrapped up so tight that rational thought was gone. Pure instinct took over as a smile spread across her face and he took a few final strokes. The pressure finally relented and his body gave in to the pleasure. It rocketed through him, setting every nerve ending on fire.

  He was quick to roll to his side, not wanting to put any unnecessary weight on the baby. Miranda rolled to her side and curled into him, resting her head in the crook of his armpit. He struggled to catch his breath, but part of him never wanted that to happen. He knew that as soon as his heart rate returned to normal, logical and difficult thoughts would walk right into his brain.

  “That was amazing.” She tangled her fingers in his chest hair, then craned her neck to kiss him.

  Their lips met and there was more to it now than there had been before. He should’ve known he would feel this way now that the ice had been broken between them. He wanted her even more than he had several hours ago. He feared that he would never get enough.

  “You’re the amazing one, Miranda. Truly.”

  She laughed quietly and kissed his chest. “You’re spoiling me.”

  “There’s no such thing. You deserve to be spoiled. Rotten. Absolutely showered with affection and praise and expensive jewelry. Real estate. Yachts.”

  She popped up onto her elbow and looked him square in the face. “I never asked for a boat.”

  Now it was his turn to laugh. “My point was that I’ll give you whatever you want.” As soon as the words had left his lips and he’d had a second to absorb the ramifications, he worried that he’d gone too far. But just as quick, he decided that he’d wasted way too much time worrying about the things he’d done. There was nothing wrong with that statement. It had been uttered in the moment and it had come from the heart. He meant it. Every last word.

  “I don’t need much,” she answered. “I really don’t.”

  “Then tell me. Tell me what you want.”

  She was quiet for a moment and the stillness seemed to take over the room. He would’ve paid anything to have a glimpse inside her head, to know her innermost thoughts. He worried that she might not share what was truly there.

  “I want life to be good and normal. I want to be happy.” She settled her head back on his shoulder. “I know that sounds stupid and boring, but it’s the truth.”

  He rubbed her lower back with his hand, relishing the velvety touch of her skin. “It’s not boring. I think it’s beautiful in its simplicity. Plus, those are things you can’t buy. I have to appreciate that.”

  “They also feel like the hardest things to come by.”

  We could be happy. The thought flew into his consciousness lightning-fast. He knew from experience that those instantaneous ideas that crop up in one’s head were the most real. The ones that came from the heart. “Also the things worth fighting for, right?”

  She nodded silently. “Can I tell you something? Something that I’m not very proud of?”

  “A confession?”

  “Yes. I suppose.”

  “I find it hard to believe that you have a single thing to be ashamed of or to confess.”

  She draped her hand across his belly and pulled him a little closer. “It’s not something I did so much as it’s something I thought. That day when we were in the nursery. After you surprised me with the crib. When I said that I was happy you were here.”

  He couldn’t imagine what she was about to say, and part of him was scared to know, but he also didn’t have it in his heart to tell her no. “Tell me, Miranda. I won’t judge you.”

  She let go of a heavy breath. “It occurred to me then that I might not have been truly happy when I was with Johnathon.”

  This wasn’t exactly a topic he was eager to explore, but he did want to know what she meant by that. “Were there problems?”

  “No. There weren’t. In fact, we were still sort of in that honeymoon phase, where everything seems easy. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Actually, I don’t. I’ve never been married.” He’d come close once, but that wasn’t something he cared to reveal right now.

  “It’s not even about marriage. It’s just that giddy stage where the other person can do no wrong. But I don’t know that we had any truly deep feelings between us. Everything with Johnathon was a whirlwind. Dating, our engagement, the wedding. It all happened so fast and I wonder if I just got carried away with it.”

  Andrew had heard women tell similar tales of being swept off their feet by Johnathon. It wasn’t Andrew’s style. It never had been. He wanted something deeper. He always had. “Do you think you’re feeling this way because you found out that he cheated on you?”

  “Maybe.” She drummed her fingers on his chest, bringing every nerve ending in his body back to life. “I guess that’s probably it. You’re so smart.”

  He’d just slept with his b
rother’s widow. He wasn’t sure that applied to him right now. “I don’t know about that, but thank you.” He wanted to set them back on a happier course of conversation, one that hopefully didn’t include Johnathon. “Are you sure you don’t want to add anything to your list of what you want? Not a diamond necklace or a fancy car?”

  “Honestly? No. But I’m a little afraid to tell you what I really want.”

  He reared back his head and looked down at her. He loved seeing her lovely face peering up at him. “Don’t be afraid. Just tell me.”

  “I want to decorate for Christmas tomorrow.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. I love the holidays, Thanksgiving was a semidisaster, and as far as I’m concerned, the Christmas season starts at midnight tonight. I don’t want to waste a single minute not celebrating, and for me, that means transforming the house into a winter wonderland.”

  “In Southern California.”

  “Yep.”

  He grinned and pulled her closer. “You got it. We can decorate all day if you want.”

  “Great. But now you have to tell me what you want.”

  Did it really need saying? He supposed it did. “What I really want tonight is you.”

  Seven

  In the light of day, waking up in Andrew’s room, Miranda’s first thoughts were decidedly more conflicted than any she’d had the night before. Her evening with Andrew had been both unexpected and incredible. In fact, it had been so amazing that guilt was threatening to eat away at the otherwise pleasant state she was in. She wouldn’t allow the bad feelings to swallow her whole, but they were there, circling above her head and threatening to swoop in.

  Andrew wasn’t there with her in bed, but that was no big surprise. He didn’t seem to sleep much. He certainly hadn’t last night. In fact, he’d worn her out. But she’d needed that level of pure physical exhaustion. It had cleared her head after a difficult and crazy day. She sat up in his bed and let her feet dangle over the edge. Maybe it was the afterglow, but making love with Andrew had been transformative. She felt different this morning. More alive.

  She tiptoed into her bedroom and grabbed a short, sexy nightgown, plus her silk robe. Taking a minute in her bathroom, she brushed her teeth, tamed her hair and spritzed on a bit of perfume. She wanted to look and smell good for Andrew. She wanted him to want her, like he had last night. A taste of him simply wasn’t enough.

  When she walked back through her bedroom to the hall, something stopped her—the picture of her and Johnathon on her wedding day, perched on top of her dresser. The gravity of what they’d done hit her. It was a little more than three months since Johnathon had died. Had she given herself enough time to grieve? How long was that supposed to be, anyway? She wasn’t sure of the timeline, but she had to think it was longer than that. What would people say? Especially if they found out that the person she’d become tangled up with was Andrew, her dead husband’s brother?

  Nothing about this was fair. She’d endured more pain than she’d thought possible when she lost her husband, but despite that, she was still here, with a beating heart and desperate to give and receive love. Andrew was a kind and compassionate man. He was sexy and strong. He was also forever tied to someone she’d loved immensely. Of course she was going to have strong feelings for him. That part was baked into the mix. What harm was there in them expressing affection for each other?

  None, she decided. What had happened last night had not hurt a single person. And she truly failed to see why it was of any concern to anyone in the first place. She deserved a sliver of happiness just as much as the next person. So did Andrew. Anyone else’s preconceived notions about right or wrong in this situation were not her problem. No one else knew her soul, her innermost thoughts or the realities of her life. No one else knew what could make her happy.

  It wasn’t easy, but she forced herself to push past the moment, look beyond the photograph, and walk out the door and into the hall. With every step, she felt more determined. Meanwhile, the pleasant aroma of fresh coffee teased her nose. That brought a smile to her face and a flush of heat to her cheeks in anticipation of seeing Andrew. She’d been limiting herself to one cup a day since she learned she was pregnant, but she’d had a hard time giving up that little bit of caffeine. How nice it was to have someone else brew a pot, just as Andrew had done every morning since he’d moved in. It was a surprising bright spot in her day. Even when he’d come on a mission that was decidedly not sunny, he’d brought happiness into her home.

  When she stepped into the kitchen, she was greeted by a breathtaking sight—Andrew in pajama pants and no shirt, busy cooking. She’d known last night that she was a lucky woman, but this morning was proving the theory again. The pj’s were a dark navy plaid with a drawstring he hadn’t bothered to tie, leaving the enticing contours of his hips and lower abs on full display.

  “Good morning,” she said, drifting into him, drawn to his bare chest the way a duck wants to be in the water.

  “Good morning to you.” Andrew pulled her into his arms and wrapped her up tight, kissing the top of her head again and again.

  She closed her eyes and soaked up his touch. She could get used to this, but that might not be wise. Andrew had been clear—he planned to return to Seattle as soon as the situation with Victor was resolved. Miranda couldn’t leave San Diego. Her ties here—to her brother, niece and Astrid, and even to Grant, Tara and Sterling Enterprises—ran deep. For now, she couldn’t bring herself to think about that. She would enjoy her time with Andrew and deal with life and logistics later.

  Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and spotted the roasting pan from yesterday. “Oh, my God. We completely forgot to clean the kitchen last night.”

  He started laughing and released her from his warm embrace. “We were pretty distracted, weren’t we?”

  She surveyed the kitchen, which was nearly spotless. “How long have you been up?”

  “Since seven.”

  A quick glance at the clock said that it was 9:15 a.m. She helped herself to a cup of coffee, adding a splash of cream and a spoonful of raw sugar. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you wake me?”

  He cast her a disapproving look that suggested she needed to have her head examined. “Are you kidding me? Nobody wakes a pregnant woman. It’s like poking a bear.”

  She disliked the comparison to a large, hairy mammal, but he wasn’t far off base. “You’re my guest. You shouldn’t have to clean up such a big mess in the kitchen. Especially when you did half of the cooking yesterday.”

  He arched both eyebrows at her and picked up a dish from the sink, wiping it dry with a towel. “I think I moved beyond being a guest last night. At least I hope I did.”

  She felt like a heel. “That’s not what I mean. I’m sorry. You’re definitely far more than a guest. Really, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. We’re both in unfamiliar territory right now.” He put the plate in the cabinet, then grabbed his mug from the counter and took a sip. His observation was spot-on, but as she thought about it, she took the chance to admire a few of his appealing features, like his slightly messy bed head and the flex of his forearm as he held the coffee to his lips. Even the questioning look in his eyes was beguiling, and that did nothing but fill her with doubt.

  “You aren’t wrong.” Their journey from strangers to brother-in-law and sister-in-law, to friends, housemates and now lovers was not a typical trajectory.

  “How are you feeling about things?” he asked. “I’m not the type to push heavy conversations, but I think we need to recognize that our situation is not the norm. Not even close. There are a lot of complicated feelings involved and as near as I can tell, there aren’t any rules for this. That could be good, but it could also be bad.”

  His admission, although dismal at first glance, brought an overwhelming sense of relief. So she hadn’t overreacted
upstairs when she’d seen the photo of Johnathon and her. The many thoughts that had gone through her mind, all clashing with each other, were understandable. “I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t feel conflicted.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “Yes. I think it’s good.” The kitchen timer went off and Andrew sprang into action, grabbing an oven mitt and pulling a pie tin out of the oven.

  Yet another amazing smell hit her nose—bacon and cheese. “You made quiche?”

  He shrugged and set the pan on the cooktop. “I cook when I’m stressed. It helps me think.”

  Now she was starting to understand what he meant by “good.” “So it’s weighing on you, too.”

  “Of course it is. We crossed a line last night. Or at least I did.”

  “No. We both did. They’re just different lines.”

  He drew in a breath, pursing his lips and seeming deep in thought. “I have to wonder how I’d be feeling right now if we hadn’t given in to temptation.”

  Was he regretting their choice? Because as much as she felt at odds with her own moral compass, she refused to look at last night and express remorse. She’d needed more than the physical release—she’d craved his touch and tenderness. She’d needed to feel less like a vessel for a baby and more like a woman. Plus, she couldn’t deny that her attraction to Andrew had grown so much over the last few weeks as they’d become closer and closer with each passing day. “I think I’d be feeling frustrated.”

  He nodded in agreement and reached for her hand, pulling her close until they were standing toe-to-toe. That one gesture meant the world to her right now. It was a lifeline. She’d been feeling adrift for the last few minutes as he grappled with the ramifications of the fact that they’d made love. “You’re right. I’d be feeling the same way. My problem is that I’ve been struggling with my attraction to you since the day we met. And that was definitely not the right time to be feeling that way. In fact, it was absolutely wrong.”