Mail-Order Brides For Christmas

by Frankie Love

  Mia

  I stand in his bedroom—our bedroom—with my hands to my lips and watch him walk away. When he was kissing me, I was trying to pull away to tell him that I wanted to freshen up, but he was out the door before I could. My body is humming, alive with need, and I’m mentally kicking myself for not just going for it with him. It’s what I wanted. And by the way he held me in his arms, I know it’s what he wanted.

  I go to the window and watch as he walks out of the house and instantly starts to stack a piece of wood, holding an ax over his head and then bringing it down to split the wood in half.

  I watch him in awe. Even from this angle, I can tell he is mad. At me or himself, I’m not sure, but I know that I could stand here and watch him all day.

  Like a peeping Tom, I watch as he repeats the process over and over. When he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it to the ground, I gasp loudly, the sound echoing in the room. His muscled chest is formed perfectly. Every muscle stretches in his arms and taut stomach as he swings the ax over and over. He’s like a man on a mission, not willing to be deterred.

  My body is heated, and I start to fan my face. The sun is starting to set, and I wonder how much longer he will be out there. My body tingles, wanting him to be near again. I have to drag my eyes from him in the backyard. The next time, I’m going to be ready for him. I walk to toward the bathroom and start filling the large jet tub so I can shave my legs. Closing up my lease and packing in under a week left little time for me to do much else before I left for Montana.

  Chapter Seven

  Mason

  After taking my aggression out with the ax, I go back inside and carry Mia’s remaining bags upstairs. Setting them in the corner, I hear her taking a bath. I stand outside the door for just a second, but it’s enough for me to imagine the water trickling down her body, and I discover my time with the ax has been wasted. Already I can feel my body reacting to her even though I can’t see her or touch her. I’d give anything to be able to walk into where she is and take her into my arms. It’s like a magnetic force drawing me in. The urge is so strong I have to literally force myself to be strong and walk away.

  Since I’m sweaty from chopping wood, I go to take a shower in the other bathroom in the hall. Instead of hot, I turn the knob to its coldest setting and stand under the spray, leaning back and letting the cold blast of water hit me right in the face. I don’t know if I want it to be a wake-up call or for it to bring me back to my senses, but I know I need some kind of jolt. With my head held back and eyes closed, I try not to think of anything. Especially my wife that is on the other side of the wall, sitting naked in her bath, running a sponge up and down her curvy body. My eyes pop open at the image, and a groan escapes me. There’s no use. Already, in one afternoon, I’m obsessed. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We got married to save Snow Valley. I had hoped for contentment or at the very least friendship. I wasn’t expecting or even ready for this attraction that has taken hold of me as if it’s squeezing the breath out of me. I am one hundred percent attracted to my wife. But remembering how she tensed in my arms earlier is a reminder that maybe she’s not as attracted to me as I am to her.

  After cleaning up, I wrap the towel around my waist. I figure she’ll already be finished since she began bathing before me, but she’s still in the tub. I pull on my flannel pajama bottoms I brought. To make her more comfortable, I build a fire in the fireplace and turn off the lights so she won’t have to look at the scar on my face. Then I sit at the desk, turn the lamp on low, and listen to her singing to herself. I pick up my paper pad and pencil, thinking I’ll draw and design a new tattoo for the shop. I’m trying to stay business-minded, after all.

  I don’t know how much time goes by, but as soon as Mia stops singing, it seems I come out of a trance. I got lost in the drawing as I drew Mia’s face and hair without thinking about it. Disgusted with myself, I stare at the very similar replica of her and realize that I’ve already memorized every detail of her face. I turn off the lamp, tossing the pen and paper on the desk and lean back in the chair in the dark corner.

  Mia

  I open the bathroom door with the towel wrapped around my body. How jet-lagged am I that I forgot to bring something to change into? I’m lucky there were shampoo and soap samples for me to use. The cabin is dark except for the fire burning in the fireplace. I stand perfectly still, listening to the sounds of the house, wondering if Mason is inside or not. Besides the normal house sounds, I can’t hear him. I look out the window, and the spot where he was chopping wood before now only has an ax buried into the stump. I stare at it, and for just a second I wonder if maybe he left. I can’t see where he parked his truck from here, but I know that even if he did leave, he’ll be back. I’m not sure exactly how I know it, but I do.

  I walk over to my suitcase and let the towel that’s wrapped around my body fall to the floor. I’m searching, moving things around until I feel the cool silky material of my nightgown. I pull it out of the bag and hold it in front of me, looking for any wrinkles when I hear a grunt of a whisper behind me. “Mia.”

  Chapter Eight

  Mason

  I’m frozen, gripping the desk in the dark. I’m captivated by the sexy-as-fuck strip show Mia has no idea she’s giving me. She’s so fucking beautiful. I watch her towel fall to the floor and then her searching through her bag. I get so hard it’s almost painful to watch her hold up the nightgown, knowing she’s about to cover her body from me.

  I stand up and cross over to her, muttering her name on the way.

  She turns just as I get to her, and I know she’s surprised that I’m standing here. I stand over her, breathing her in, feeling every move she makes because we are so close. “We’re supposed to consummate the marriage, Mia.” My voice is rough and gravely, filled with emotion. “I turned down the lights… I know my scar…”

  She leans her head back to look up at me. “I don’t care about your scar,” she says vehemently and then softens. “I mean, I care how you got it, but I don’t care like you think I do. I, well, uh, I still want you.”

  I cup her face to keep her looking at me. “Earlier—"

  “Earlier I needed to shower. That’s the only reason I tensed up. I want this, I want it with you. And not because we have to or whatever. Because I want you.” She blows a breath out, frustrated by the way my thoughts are going.

  I barely let her get the words out before I have her up in my arms, and I lay her back on the bed. She’s still gripping her nightgown in front of her, and I take it, pulling it away from her and tossing it to the end of the bed.

  Standing over her, I look at every exposed part of her, taking it all in, committing it to memory. She’s breathtaking.

  I lean forward and rub my knuckles along her cheek before I stroke them down her neck, across her shoulder, and down to the very peak of her breast. She trembles underneath my touch. I palm her breast, caressing her as her back arches off the bed, pushing herself deeper into my hand.

  “Mason…” she moans.

  “Yes?” I answer, caressing both her breasts.

  “Will you kiss me… there?” she asks me huskily.

  I smile, not believing that this perfect woman is my wife. My answer to her is to lean forward and replace my hand with my mouth. I suckle her as I let my hand slide between her thighs, cupping her sex. One swipe through her sex, I find her wet and ready for me.

  Kissing down her body, she mewls and makes the sexiest noises, but as soon as my lips graze her mound, she’s silent, and her body tenses up. I kiss along her opening, smoothing my tongue along her, savoring her taste.

  Her hand goes to the back of my head and threads through my hair. I press my tongue to her bundle of nerves, and her body bucks against me. “Yes…” she moans.

  I don’t relent. I apply pressure with my tongue and beg for her release. Soft, fast, slow, hard, I change it up until I learn how her body reacts, and I know what she likes and what she wants. When I’ve barely gotten m
y fill of her, she’s already mindless, pushed over the edge, coming on my tongue. I lap at her, kissing her most private area, loving her until she’s limp and delirious.

  Mia

  He gave me the best orgasm I’ve ever had. He kisses up my body, and when he’s next to me, I kiss him softly before scooting down the bed to return the favor.

  “No, honey.”

  His harsh words are grunted at me, and I look at him with some sort of shock. “I want to…”

  “I won’t even last. I need to be inside you. Now! All I’ve thought about since I saw you in that other man’s arms is being inside you, taking you and making you mine, making you forget every man that’s ever held you before,” he pleads with me, pushing me to my back and rolling on top of me.

  “Man, what man?” I ask him, not having a clue who he’s talking about.

  “The man from the plane.”

  “Se—" But I don’t get his name out.

  He stops me with a groan as his head falls to my chest. “I don’t even want to hear you say his name.”

  I smile then, not believing the control that I have over this brute of a man, my husband. “Me too, Mason. I felt the same way when I saw you. I wanted you to be mine.” I run my hands down his chest, between his legs, taking his girth in my hands. “I wanted you like this.”

  He hisses, and his hips buck into my hand as I stroke him.

  There’s fire in his eyes as he lowers to his knees and sits up, lining his hardness to my opening. For one brief second, I’m nervous. “Please be easy, Mason,” I ask him.

  His eyes look at me as if he’s asking me a question, but before he even voices it, I tell him. “You’re my first. I was saving myself for my husband.”

  Again, his head falls to my chest with a muttered “Fuck.”

  He pushes into me gently at first, and he’s stretching me, filling me up. I know the instant he reaches my barrier. His fingers go to my clit again, and I’m still sensitive from my earlier orgasm, so it isn’t long before I’m ready again, and he pushes through, completely filling me up and taking me.

  With each thrust, he whispers against me, “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

  I want to reassure him and let him know that I am in fact his, but I’m half out of my mind with the way my body is responding to his. He moans against my neck, kissing me, and my senses are on overload. I can feel him everywhere and before long, I’m coming again.

  He thrusts once, twice more, and then he’s grunting, filling me with his cum.

  “Yes,” I moan.

  Completely satiated, I lay listless and limp as he falls down beside me. I don’t know what you’re supposed to do afterward, so I follow my gut and curl into him, kissing his chest.

  With his arms circling me, he holds me so tight I can barely breathe, but I don’t ask him to stop. I’ve never felt so safe, so cared for, or dare I say…so loved.

  Chapter Nine

  Mason

  I feel like I’m losing my mind.

  I keep telling myself it’s not real, but I’ve never felt anything so real as what I feel when I’m with Mia. We’ve been at the cabin for forty-eight hours already, and I haven’t been able to keep my hands off her.

  The only thing that keeps me remembering that this isn’t real is thinking about that hug Mia shared at the airport with that Serge guy. Maybe she just wants to be with someone, it doesn’t matter who it is.

  Today is Christmas, and I’m lying on the couch recovering from the big breakfast that we had. Mia loved the presents I got her, a soft blanket, a robe with Mrs. Mistletoe printed on the back, and the diamond earrings. Of all her presents, I think she loved the robe the most. Instead of putting it on, I’ve caught her staring at her name since she received it.

  She gave me a beard kit, pajama bottoms, and homemade coupons offering back rubs, showers together and alone time. She took back the shaving kit and the pajamas as soon as I opened them because she decided she likes my beard and doesn’t want me sleeping in pants. Luckily, she let me keep the coupons, and I know I’ll be redeeming those very soon.

  “Mason, did you do this?” she asks me, walking into the living room.

  She’s holding up the picture I drew of her, but I’m not looking at it. I’m looking at her. She’s in awe of the portrait, and the way she’s looking at me cuts through my walls of defense like a tongue through whipped cream. I sit up, pulling her into my arms until she lands on my lap, and I cradle her there. “Yes. That first night when you were in the bath.”

  She shakes her head, confused. “How? I mean, we’d just met, how did you do such a portrait without even looking at me?”

  I should be embarrassed. I should just blow it off, but I can’t. “From the first moment I saw you, before I was even sure you were the one I was going to marry, I had committed everything about you to memory. You’re beautiful, Mia.”

  “Oh, Mason.” She puts her hand on my chest as her face flushes a pretty pink.

  I cup her jaw. “Tell me something about you. Something I don’t know.”

  She looks up at the ceiling and back at me. “Uh, I own a winery.”

  “What?” I ask her, surprised. “You own a winery?”

  “Well, yes. When my parents passed, it was left to me, but I haven’t been there since their death. I haven’t been able to bring myself to go there.” A sadness overcomes her face, and I rub my thumb across her cheek as if I could smooth out her worry lines. “I have people in place to run it, but maybe one day you would want to go there with me?” she asks me hopefully.

  “Sure, absolutely.” I think about the fact that she has an income, she’s beautiful and smart, she’s everything. Why did she agree to this marriage? I can’t figure it out. “Why did you agree to an arranged marriage, Mia?” I ask her, thinking her answer will be what keeps me from tipping over the edge.

  She starts to talk about her parents. And instead of the sadness when she brought them up before, her face is filled with hope. Her hand goes to my face, tracing the scar on my cheek, and then she leans in and kisses the puckered skin there softly before pulling back. “My parents had an arranged marriage. Neither one of them wanted to go through with it, but as soon as they saw each other, they agreed to it.” She shrugs her shoulders. “It was love at first sight. It was fate. I know that’s what it was. And I don’t know, but when I talked to your mom, I couldn’t not do it. It weighed on me so heavily, I knew I was going to do it.” She takes a deep breath and pulls back her shoulders, looking me straight in the eye as if daring me to disagree with her. “I believe it’s fate that brought us together.”

  I brush the hair off her face and don’t even try to look away from her. It hits me hard how fucking fearless this little half pint of a woman is about being all in at the chance of true love. Looking at her, I know she deserves to receive nothing less.

  We stare at each other so long I can see every emotion filter across her face. I wrap my hand around the base of her neck. “I’m all in, my fearless Mia.”

  I seal my lips to hers, wanting her to know exactly what I’m feeling.

  Mia

  Nestled in Mason’s arms, I feel so close to him.

  I could stay right here, just like this for eternity and know I’ll never want another thing.

  Cuddled against him, tracing patterns on his chest, I ask him, “Do you think your family is going to like me?”

  “Oh, I don’t know…” he starts.

  I gasp and look up into his face, and he’s smiling wickedly at me. “Oh, you,” I say, playfully slapping him on the chest.

  Finally he says, “They’ll love you. Not as much as I do, but yeah.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck, planting a big kiss on his lips. “I love you, too. Now take me to bed, Mr. Mistletoe.”

  He stands up. “As you wish, wife.” And carries me to the bedroom after making all my dreams come true.

  THE END

  Want to read about Mason and Mia? Get their one year epilogue here —> https://BookH
ip.com/TVGCPF

  Nate by Kelli Callahan

  Copyright © 2020 by Kelli Callahan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Chapter One

  Nate

  It’s insanity.

  My mom has come up with a few schemes in her day, but this one may take the cake, and by the looks of it, she wants it to be a wedding cake. Six of them. Or would we each get a slice from the same one? I’m not even sure.

  I pick up the brochure for the Mail-Order Brides For Christmas service and step out onto my back porch. My ass drops down into a chair as I light a cigarette and start flipping through the pages.

  Yep. Insanity, just like I thought.

  I love my mom. I really do. I would do anything for that woman, but this isn’t some simple request. This is a lifelong commitment. This is marriage.

  This may be the one time I have to put my foot down and say no.

  The day my mom caught me smoking was the day she thought I quit. The first night I came home so drunk that I fell and smashed her favorite vase was the time she saw me get more than a little tipsy at a family event. But I never gave up my vices, not permanently at least. I just learned to hide them better.

  I smoke on the back porch so that nobody ever sees me, because in this town, word would get back to my mom pretty damn quick. I keep saying I’m going to quit, but I haven’t yet. There’s beer in the fridge, but what I drink is hidden in the back of the pantry. She doesn’t say too much about alcohol as long as none of us go overboard. She’ll be the first one to tell us to top off our glass as long as everyone is having a good time. I’ll just never be falling down drunk in front of her again.