Unforgettable Christmas Dreams: Gifts of Joy

by Rebecca York

  She bit her lip as she ladled the chowder into a bowl. She poured a cup of coffee and turned around to find him less than a foot away from her. She jumped in surprise, barely saving the chowder from a spill. “I didn’t hear you.” Her heart was beating too freakin’ loudly. “Here,” she said, extending the steaming bowl to him. “Eat this.”

  He gave her a considering glance. “Okay, thanks.”

  He gobbled two helpings of chowder in the den while she sat gingerly on the edge of a chair. Lucas built a fire, then took his bowl to the kitchen. Amy’s nerves stretched tight when he was gone longer than a minute. Rising from the chair, she walked to the tree and stared at it, anticipation zipping through her. She heard his footsteps behind her, but didn’t turn. She felt the warmth of his body when he stopped inches from her.

  “You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

  “Not really,” she said, turning to face him.

  “You have reason to be.”

  Her stomach dipped. “Why?”

  “Because I’m gonna get you.”

  She gulped and tried to hide it by tossing her head. “In order for you to get me, I have to choose to be gotten.”

  “And do you?” he asked in a velvet voice that slid through her like rum.

  She took a deep breath.

  He pulled his hand from his back and lifted her homemade kissing ball above her head. Amy knew she was sunk.

  He lowered his mouth to hers. “Gotcha,” he muttered against her lips, and kissed her. Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her to the rug in front of the fireplace. “I want to see the firelight on your hair and skin.”

  He made her feel beautiful when she knew she wasn’t beautiful. “I’m not pretty,” she said.

  “You’re beautiful,” he told her. “And I’m not stopping until you say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “You’re beautiful,” she said. “But you already knew that.”

  He groaned and slid his hands under her silk T-shirt. “I’m not stopping until you say the following words: I am beautiful.”

  She gaped at him. “I don’t know about that.”

  “You will soon enough,” he promised, and pulled her T-shirt over her head. He didn’t pause a beat before he unfastened her bra and slid his hands down to her stretch pants.

  Amy had stopped breathing two minutes ago…her head was spinning. She wanted him to slow down and hurry up at the same time. He lowered his mouth to hers and dipped his tongue inside as he pushed both her leggings and panties down her legs. The combination of his warm hands on her body and his lips luring and seducing made her shiver.

  “Cold?” he asked, pulling her against him.

  She shook her head.

  “Tell me what you like,” he urged her, moving his lips down her throat.

  Her heart rate jumped into overdrive. “Everything,” she said breathlessly as his mouth slid to her breast. “Everything you do.”

  He met her gaze, and her secret wish that he could want her, even love her, seemed possible. In his arms, everything wonderful was possible. Following her heart, she unfastened his buttons with unsteady fingers. He took her mouth in an erotic kiss that distracted her.

  “Don’t stop,” he muttered against her mouth, and she lowered her hands to his jeans and unbuttoned them. The whir of the zipper as she pulled it down kicked up the anticipation permeating the air between them.

  He was going to take her. What he didn’t know was that she also planned to take him. She slid her hand beneath his briefs and caressed him.

  His breath came out in a hiss. “Careful.”

  “Why?” she asked, helping him push his jeans from his body.

  “It’s been a while, and it’s going to be hard for me to go slow.” She touched him again, and he shook his head. “Not yet,” he insisted, and gently pushed her back on the floor. His mouth trailed a blazing path over her tight nipples and lower, while his fingers sought and found her hot with need.

  Shocked at the power of the pleasure coursing through her, she arched upward, her body clamoring for more.

  “You feel so good,” he murmured, fondling her, turning her to liquid. “I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me,” he said, plunging his finger inside her.

  Amy shuddered and felt the waves of sensation take her over the edge. Gasping, she clung to the hard muscles of his shoulders. Just when she was ready to come down, he lowered his mouth and kissed her intimately. His wonderful, wicked tongue brought her to one climax, then another.

  Twitching from the outrageous pleasure, she begged him to pause. “Stop,” she managed to say. “Just for a minute. I can’t—”

  He moved up her body, his eyes nearly black with desire. “I love the sounds you make.”

  Amy reveled in the sensation of his delicious chest hair against her sensitized nipples. She slid her hands over his powerful back, down to his hard buttocks.

  He kissed her again, and she wiggled beneath him, wanting more. Shifting to her side, she lowered her hand to stroke him until he groaned, then she took her own trip down his body, running her tongue over his flat male nipples, pressing open-mouth kisses on his abdomen and lower.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice strained with need. “What—”

  Amy boldly took him into her mouth and made love to him with her mouth.

  He began to swear, and the sound was deliciously seductive to her ears. He turned her upside down so easily. She wanted to weave a fraction of the same magic over him.

  “Amy,” he said, his voice a combination of earthy huskiness and passion.

  She swirled her tongue over him, and he swore again.

  “That’s it,” he said, pulling her up his body and rolling them both over. Grabbing a packet of protection from his discarded jeans, he put it on and parted her thighs.

  His eyes were so fierce with passion that she felt a twinge of fear. She needed just a little tenderness. She lifted her hand to his, and he paused. His gaze gentled a hair, and he twined his fingers through hers.

  “You look afraid,” he said.

  “A little,” she whispered. “You look like you’re going to eat me alive.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers and gave her a kiss that combined an irresistible combination of compassion and desire. “I am. But I’ll do my damnedest to make sure you like it,” he said, and thrust inside her.

  Her eyes widened at the sensual invasion, and she sucked in a quick breath.

  “Problem?” He paused, studying her.

  The way he looked at her made her feel as if he weren’t just invading her body, but also her mind and heart. “You’re big.”

  “Is that bad?” he asked, and she could feel his need to move permeating her.

  “Kiss me again, and it won’t be bad.”

  He took her mouth in an achingly slow sensual kiss, but didn’t move a millimeter. His tongue dallied and seduced, his lips nipped at hers, he sucked her tongue into her mouth. Her body began to hum again, and she shifted restlessly beneath his.

  As if he read her body like a book, he began to move in a hypnotic rhythm that made her crave more and more of him. Amy moaned and squeezed him intimately.

  He groaned. “Those sounds you make,” he muttered. “They’re driving me—” He broke off, increasing the pumping rhythm.

  She looked in his eyes and saw his primitive need mixed with something deeper, more powerful. With each thrust, she felt herself bound to him. She wanted everything with this man.

  “You—are—so—beautiful,” he said in a rough voice.

  In that moment she believed him, and they both went soaring over the edge.

  Moments passed before she caught her breath. Lucas moved to his side and she rolled over, curling against him. His naked skin pressed against hers, and with her hand on his chest, she could feel his heart pounding. She was so close, she almost felt as if she could climb inside him. Amy sighed at the emotions overflowing inside
her.

  “Is that a good sigh or a tired sigh?” he asked.

  She pressed her face against his throat. “It’s a you’re amazing sigh.”

  “I could say the same about you.”

  Her heart turned over and she couldn’t contain her secret smile. “You inspire me.”

  He slid his arms around her. “I didn’t hear you say I am beautiful.”

  “You are beautiful.”

  He chuckled. “No. I didn’t hear you say these words: I am beautiful.”

  “Oh, well, you made me feel beautiful.”

  “Close but no cigar.”

  She pulled back slightly and met his warm gaze. “Maybe you can try again.”

  His eyes lit like twin flames. “I can do that,” he said.

  And he did. They eventually made it upstairs to his bedroom, where they made love until early morning. While she slept, Lucas took care of the animals, then returned. She fixed breakfast, and with a foot of snow calling a halt to most outside activity, they spent the day in an isolated cocoon of conversation and lovemaking. Amy fell completely under his spell and wanted it to never end.

  That night, they danced naked in the firelight, and he made love to her with a fervor that shook her soul. In the dark of the middle of the night, she clung to him. “You make me feel so beautiful,” she whispered in his ear as he held her tight.

  The following morning Amy awakened to the sight of Lucas standing in front of his dresser, staring at the photograph of his former wife. Her heart twisted. During the last two days, she’d tried to push the beautiful woman’s image from her mind. She could never compete with the woman’s beauty, and Lucas clearly still had deep feelings for her.

  Amy wondered if even now he was comparing her to his late wife. A knot formed in her throat. She wanted to wipe Lucas’s pain away. She wanted to be the one who helped make him happy.

  Drawing her covers with her, she sat up in bed and bit her lip. It was as if he was in another world. Far, far away. The notion hurt, especially after they’d been so close. It had been more than sex, she thought. She hoped she wasn’t fooling herself.

  “You still miss her,” Amy said quietly.

  As if she’d invaded a private moment he hadn’t wanted to share, he whipped his head around in surprise. His eyes full of conflicting emotions, he met her gaze, then looked away. “This is always a tough time of year.”

  “I’d like to make it easier for you.”

  He inhaled, then let out a long breath. “I don’t think you can.”

  Amy felt another stab just behind her ribs. “But I care about you, and these last few days have been amazing. I haven’t ever been happier, and you’ve seemed happy, too.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s not make this bigger than it is. We’re both adults, and we haven’t made any promises or big declarations.”

  Her heart felt as if it stopped. Her worst fear climbed from her stomach to form a knot in her throat. “The last few days were not just about sex,” she said, fighting tears and praying he would say what she needed to hear. “There’s more between us than sex.”

  His silence was damning, and she hated the distance between them. Just hours ago, they’d been as close as two humans could possibly be. “I’ve got work to do,” he said finally, and left her alone in his bed.

  Shell-shocked by Lucas’s retreat, Amy took a shower to wash his scent off of her. Although she knew Lucas still suffered over the loss of his wife, she couldn’t believe he would throw away what he and Amy had found in each other. Mostly hurt but angry, too, she searched for a distraction, something she could do to make herself feel better.

  Interrupting Amy’s thoughts, Debra called and told her that since the roads had been cleared, Debra’s husband, Craig, would be returning Amy’s car in a few minutes. Debra prodded Amy for information about why she and Lucas had left the party early, but Amy changed the subject by asking about Debra’s pregnancy.

  While Amy stewed and waited for her car, she checked through her date book in search of any tentative plans she might have made. The nursing home had canceled Christmas Bingo yesterday due to the snow. Amy made a quick call and learned the residents would be thrilled to reschedule today. She hung up resolved to get back at least a smidgen of her Christmas spirit.

  Six hours later, after calling countless games of Christmas Bingo, she left the nursing home with a smile on her face. The residents’ laughter and gratitude reminded her of all the good things about the holiday season. She tried not to think about Lucas and how much his retreat had devastated her. Deliberately humming a carol, she noticed the temperature had dropped again, and she nearly fell as she walked toward her car.

  “Oops, icy,” she muttered to herself, carefully stepping into her little coupe. She sank into her seat, started the engine and turned the heater on high even though the air it blew would take a while to warm up.

  Thoughts of Lucas slipped across her mind again, making her heart hurt. For a moment she toyed with the idea of not returning to his house. When she realized she was thinking about him, she turned up the volume on her radio in an attempt to drown out her unhappy thoughts.

  Driving down the narrow county road, she calculated that it should take her about an hour to get home. Home. The thought was so seductive, so alluring. So dangerous. Not her home, she quickly reminded herself. Lucas’s home.

  Approaching a sharp, steep curve, she pressed down her brake. Her car swerved wildly, sending panic racing through her. Ice. She desperately turned the steering wheel first one way, then the other, to gain control. She mashed on the brakes again, to no avail. As if her car had a will of its own, it raced off the side of the road and smashed into a tree.

  A scream of horror vibrated from her toes. The air bag slammed into her, banging her face and chest with its force, knocking the breath out of her.

  While Lucas sat in front of the fire with the newspaper, trying not to think about Amy, her cat, Cleo, sat just across from him, staring at him. She regarded him with a disdainful, accusing expression, as if to tell Lucas that he had treated her mistress like a jerk this morning.

  If that cat could talk, she would have said, “You are lower than snail spit.”

  Lucas scowled at Cleo, but she merely turned her head and licked her paw.

  His phone rang. He considered not answering it. He preferred to brood in silence. Cleo eyed him expectantly. The phone rang again.

  Sighing, he picked up the receiver, hoping it was a telephone solicitor so he could hang up abruptly. “Hello,” he growled.

  “Lucas?” Amy said in a wobbly, high-pitched voice.

  His heart contracted. “Amy, what—where—”

  “My car hit a patch of ice and ran off the road. I ran into a tree,” she said in a breathless rush. “I probably should have dialed 911, but I automatically thought of you.”

  She sounded disoriented. Alarm rushed through him like a cold shower. “Are you hurt?”

  “I, uh, I don’t think so,” she said vaguely. “I might be sore from the air bag.”

  His gut knotted. “Amy, where are you?”

  She sighed. “I’m beside a field.”

  Lucas gritted his teeth in frustration. Everywhere in Kent was beside a field. “Where did you go this afternoon?”

  “Christmas Bingo at the Kent Friendship Manor. There was one little old man who was so sweet. He—”

  “Route 7. Keep your cell on and hang on. I’ll be there as fast as I can,” he said, and grabbed his hat and coat on the way to the door.

  His heart pounded against his rib cage as he ran to his truck and turned on the ignition before he closed his door. He had to make sure Amy was okay. He couldn’t lose her today. He couldn’t. Sucking in a cold, quick breath, he narrowed his eyes as he gunned his truck down his driveway. December 20. Was it destined always to be the worst day of his life? He’d lost his wife on this day years ago. He damn well didn’t want anything to happen to Amy today.

  The drive seemed i
nterminable. As soon as he turned on Route 7, he flicked on his high beams and continually scanned both sides of the road. He didn’t blink for miles. His gut was churning.

  Where was she?

  Just as he reached for his cell to call her, he spotted her car in a field on the left side. Turning off the road, he saw the deployed bag. The front side of her sedan resembled an accordion. Squinting his eyes, he caught sight of her hunched over in the back seat with the door open.

  His stomach clenched again. She was hurt, and he hurt from looking at her. He rushed from his truck to her car and bent down. Her eyes were closed and her arms wrapped around her waist.

  “Amy,” he said, carefully touching her arm.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him, pain shimmering in her gaze. “You’re here,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he said, a sliver of relief rolling through him. At least she was conscious. He didn’t see any blood, although there could be internal injuries. The thought made him nauseous.

  “Thanks for coming. I feel stupid. I must have taken that curve too—” She stopped and winced.

  “You’re hurt,” he said.

  “A little, I guess,” she said. “I—”

  “I’m taking you to the E.R.,” he interjected, reaching for her. “Let me help you to the truck.”

  She winced as he picked her up. “Sorry,” he muttered, and settled her into the truck. He spent the entire drive to the E.R. swearing and praying. The intake nurse hustled her into an examination room as soon as they arrived.

  Twenty minutes later, Debra walked into the E.R. with her husband in tow. Craig waved at him and wandered to a different area in the waiting room.

  “How is she?” Debra asked, reaching out to hug him.

  Lucas returned the embrace from his baby sister, who was round with her pregnancy. “I don’t know. Nobody has told me anything. She was hurting when I brought her in.”

  Debra shook her head and gave a murmur of sympathy. “First the fire, now this. She’s had a rough time.”

  He pulled his hat off his head and sighed. “Yeah, and she hasn’t let any of it get her down. Even me,” he muttered ruefully.

  “Even you,” Debra echoed with a frown. “What do you mean? What have you done?”