by Shen, L. J.
Yes, Virginia, there really is a Santa Claus. The quote from It’s a Beautiful Life springs into my head instantly.
I don’t say a word as I lift her up and gently lay her down on the bed. She’s so damn beautiful. It’s funny that in just one night this girl has me all mixed up. I blew off my family party, carried a tree, and took her shopping, all just to see her smile.
I can’t remember the last time I cared about something so simple.
She isn’t here because I’m some rich guy who can afford to buy her entire apartment, let alone a tree stand. Sure she might not be able to sing worth a damn, and she doesn’t know how to open a door properly or have even a basic knowledge of plant life, but she’s kind. She cares about her friends and her job. And she has the most stunning smile I’ve ever seen.
Which she’s giving me right now as I look down at her.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
“What are you thinking?”
“That your smile is beautiful,” I answer honestly.
Her eyes soften and she touches her hand to my lips, moving her thumb. It does something to my heart.
“You have no idea how glad I am that you rescued me,” she says softly.
That makes two of us. I’m hoping I can rescue her a lot more too. I want to wake up with her in my arms on Christmas morning and start a whole new tradition of holiday unwrapping. I want to bring her to my parents’ house, introduce her to my annoying sister, and then ring in the New Year with a kiss at midnight.
Where the hell did this feeling come from? Jesus, I’m losing my damn mind.
I shift the conversation back to the sex. Sex is what she wants. Sex is what we both want. I don’t need to think beyond it. “Because you’re about to have some earth-shattering sex?”
“No, that’s just a bonus.”
“Condom?” I say, trying to keep myself distracted. Because I can’t possibly be falling for her. No, it’s the snow. The cold has somehow frozen my brain. That’s all.
She reaches over to the nightstand. “I’m really hoping Willow left some condoms.” Harlow digs around in the drawer and then screams with delight. “I found some! Oh, we have a whole strip.”
I take it from her hand, ripping the wrapper open with my teeth and roll it on.
“Here, let me help,” she says as her hand slides down my dick, unrolling the condom as she goes.
Not wanting to wait another second, I take her wrists in my one hand and pin them over her head. Then I surge inside her with raw force.
“Oh! Oh God!” she moans and I give her a second to grow accustomed to my size.
After another second and feeling the way her pussy grips me, I start to move. I hold her down, thrusting inside her over and over. Her eyes close and she moans again. I move my free hand down between us and rub her clit.
I’m so fucking close.
I want her to come again, this time around my dick.
“Harlow,” I urge her. “Come, baby. Come again.”
Her eyes close and she takes her lower lip between her teeth. “I’m going to come,” she moans and I increase pressure on her clit.
I feel her tighten. “Yes, that’s it, Harlow, let go.”
And she does.
I thrust harder, chasing my own release, which comes in record time. The feel of her pussy milking me is too much. I surrender to it, taking the last moment of bliss, and work to catch my breath.
That was … whoa.
After a few seconds I lift my head to look at her. Her hair is spread out on her pillow, her lips are swollen, and a lazy smile plays on her face.
Her eyes open and she lets out a soft chuckle. “If that’s being on the naughty list, I’m never coming off.”
I laugh and rub my nose against hers. “Are you okay?”
“I’m glorious. I’m pretty sure I heard angels sing on that last one.”
“Me too.”
“Glory be to God and all that.”
“Pretty sure God wasn’t with us, but I’m open to you thinking I’m close to being one,” I tease.
“You earned it.”
I kiss her once and then reluctantly get off the bed. When I glance back at her, she’s now clutching a pillow and curling herself up. Her ex is a goddamn fool, and I’m very happy he is.
7
Harlow
Best. Sex. Ever.
Like, ever, ever.
People write songs about the sex we just had and they aren’t sad ones. Jesus, who knew I could have multiples?
I want to scream into the pillow but manage to pull myself together. I told him I wasn’t crazy, and that might give him some doubts. But this day has been a whirlwind and I’m not really sure how to process it all.
First, I had mind-blowing sex. That in itself is worth screaming about.
Second, I really freaking like him. Michael is fun and even though he’s a little naughty, sometimes it’s good to balance the goodness I tend to lean toward. I’m always the good girl, doing what people ask, finding them love, blah, blah. Maybe putting my tiara away and grabbing the broomstick will be a change that leads to more fun.
And by fun I mean multiples.
Third, I am not a one-night-stand girl, and this is a problem.
My sexual conquests always have meaning, and I at least know the guy a little, but I don’t know Michael at all. But he’s sweet, he can put a tree up, and he must have at least some feelings toward me, right?
Do I ask him to stay?
Do I see if he wants to go for another round?
I don’t know the rules in this situation, and that’s something I’m not used to.
All of these are first-world problems, but it’s the world I live in.
I chew on my thumbnail as I mull it all over and try to think logically. If Michael wants to leave, he can—it’s not like he has to drive. And if this is all we ever have, I can be a mature adult. Not to mention, this isn’t my forever apartment, so if it gets super awkward, I’ll just move.
It’s not that serious. It’s just a night.
One incredible, unforgettable night.
“You okay?” he asks, and I jump a little.
The pillow is covering my bare breasts, and again, I’m faced with not knowing where to go with this. “Uhh, yeah, I just need to … use the bathroom.”
He smiles, his naked body on full display and it takes every ounce of my restraint not to stare at his cock. I really like it. It did magical things, and I’d like to see if it was just a fluke or not.
I mentally slap myself. I promised not to be crazy and I will uphold my end of the bargain.
I do my business and walk back out. When I enter the bedroom, Michael is on the bed, covers up to his waist, but his chest is bare. God, he is a work of art.
“Come here,” he says with his arms open.
And I go without pause.
“I know you said you never do that …”
I look up. “I don’t. I’m a serial monogamist. Not really by choice, but I typically only sleep with guys I really like, and never on day one.”
“It’s not really my normal, either. I usually at least know more than just some basic information.”
That makes me feel marginally better. “What do you want to know?”
“Family?”
“My parents are still happily married, for over forty years now. I have one brother who isn’t married, and I swear never will be. Even though I’ve tried to match him at least three times.”
“So your matchmaking skills are a questionable thing.”
I sit up with narrowed eyes. “I’m the best in this city.”
He grins. “Good to know.”
I sense challenge in his voice so I don’t let it go. “Seriously! I have more marriages than Willow, who owns the company, and her sister, combined. I’m like a super matchmaker.”
“One who doesn’t believe in romance?”
I sigh and pull the blanket up to cover my chest. “Okay, if we
’re talking about me, that’s different. In my experience, romance is fleeting. It comes and goes and people claim they’re always searching for it. But it’s not something you find, it’s something you work for. I want love. I want a guy who looks at me twenty years down the road and thinks I’m cute with my hair turning gray and my wrinkly face. Romance is this …” I lean down and kiss him, “… feeling in your chest.”
His hand comes up, tangling in my hair, and then he pulls me back to his mouth. He kisses me reverently and I feel it in my toes. “Romance isn’t bad.”
“No,” I agree. “It’s not, but love makes your heart race and it is a simmer that doesn’t ever fully go out.”
Our eyes stay on each other’s. My chest is tight as we both are silent, but I feel like he’s saying something anyway. Before I can search too deep, he releases me. I sink back against his chest, not wanting to think about what that was.
Michael clears his throat. “Okay, so brother, work, and parents are covered. What else should I know?”
“Hmm.” I use this time to compose myself. “I’m a Scorpio, I like horribly cheesy Christmas movies, I love guys who rescue girls with trees.”
His laughter vibrates against my skin. “I like girls who need rescuing.”
“Ahh, so you’re a Romeo type?”
“I’m not sure I’m a type at all.”
“Everyone is a type,” I tell him.
Then I sit up and study him. Now that my libido is a little in check, I look at Michael as I would a client. How would I match him? Maybe this is the approach I should take on dating. Leave the emotions and that lusty goodness out and start to be analytical, the way I would if I were helping a client.
This thought has merit.
“Why do you look like you’re about to dissect me?”
I grin. “Would you let me try?” And then I realize that he probably isn’t thinking the same meaning as I am. “I mean, let me look at you not just as the guy who gave me not one but two fantastic orgasms, but as a potential match for someone.”
“I’m going to regret this.”
“Probably, but it’ll be fun.”
“You know, you’re the second woman today who has tried to set me up.” Michael shakes his head.
“Really?”
“Yeah, my sister, Laura—that’s whose house I was supposed to be at—said there was some girl coming that was”—he air quotes—“just perfect.”
“No way!” I laugh. “Willow, who, err, interrupted us earlier, was trying to do the same. She wanted to drag me to some work party of her fiancé, Reid.”
Michael looks at me a little funny, like he just smelled something weird. “Reid? You said—you said Willow’s fiancé is named Reid?”
“Yes.” I cock my head to one side, recalling something he mentioned a moment ago. “And did you say your sister’s name is Laura?”
“Yeah.”
Chills sweep down my arms, although I’m not cold. “Is your …” I clear my throat, thinking back to what Willow said. “Is your sister’s last name Thompson, by any chance?”
“It is.” Michael swallows and sits up a little straighter in bed. “Is this Reid guy’s last name something Italian?”
“Fortino,” I whisper. We stare at each other, our eyes going wide. I almost expect the music from the Twilight Zone to start playing.
“Oh my God.” Michael blinks, leaning back against the headboard. “I don’t fucking believe it.”
“Me neither.” It can’t be … can it?
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asks.
“That we were both supposed to be at the same party tonight so that we could be set up … with each other?” Even as I speak the words, it strikes me as too coincidental. Too unbelievable. Too insane.
Michael shakes his head. “It’s fucking crazy. But I think it’s true. My sister works with Reid. And she said his fiancée was bringing a friend who’d be perfect for me.”
I start to laugh. I can’t help it—this entire night has been so ridiculous and fun. “And Willow said I had to go to this party tonight to meet the little brother of this Laura woman who works with Reid.”
“Christ.” Michael runs a hand through his hair.
“I guess we saved them the trouble,” I wheeze. “Who’d have thought?”
“Right?” Michael laughs too, a deep, joyful sound that warms my insides. “I can’t believe it. My sister was right about something.” He pulls me onto his lap so I straddle his legs.
“They’re all going to flip out,” I tell him. “Willow especially. She’ll try to take credit somehow.”
He wraps his arms around my waist. “So will my sister. But I didn’t need them to find a perfect girl. I found her all on my own.”
I grin. “Stuck in a doorway with a Christmas tree. God, it sounds like a Hallmark Channel holiday movie, doesn’t it? We had our very own meet cute!”
“Do Hallmark Channel movies have sex in them?”
“Not onscreen.” I giggle. “It’s more like behind closed doors.”
“Your door is closed.” He flips me onto my back and covers my body with his. “And I’m very interested in a happy ending right now.”
“Me too.” We kiss, and I wonder if I’ll ever get enough of his sexy mouth on mine.
I wonder if this is the start of something as good as it feels. I wonder if someday we’ll be telling our meet cute story to our children and grandchildren—maybe it will be the one we tell every single Christmas as we put up the tree. And I wonder if it’s possible to fall for someone so fast, because as he moves inside me again, I feel myself spinning head over heels. I never want it to end.
Of course, I don’t say that to him.
But later, as we’re saying goodbye at my door, I tell him that tonight feels like an unexpected gift.
“For me too,” he says. He kisses my forehead. “And I, for one, would like to open it again tomorrow night. And maybe even the night after that.”
“Really?” My toes tingle, and I can’t keep my smile from getting bigger.
“Really. I don’t know what you did to me tonight, Harlow North, but I’m under your spell. And I’d like to stay there for a while.”
I lift my shoulders. “You know where to find me.”
And he does—the next night, and the next night, and the next. In fact, we don’t spend a night apart for the following year and a half, and two years to the day after he came to my rescue in the lobby, I walk down the aisle and become his wife.
We celebrate our first Christmas as Mr. and Mrs. West in our own home, where Michael is in charge of getting the tree in the stand, I am allowed to bake but not sing, and we laugh about how destiny wanted us together so badly, it left us no room to mess up.
Christmas miracle? Maybe.
But one thing is for sure—we were always meant to be.
THE END
We hope you enjoyed this fun Christmas story set in the Imperfect Match world! However, we’re not done yet!
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Also by Melanie Harlow and Corinne Michaels
Co-Written Novels
Hold You Close
Imperfect Match
Books by Corinne Michaels
The Salvation Series
Beloved
Beholden
Consolation
Conviction
Defenseless
Evermore: A Salvation Series Novella
Indefinite
Infinite
Return to Me Series
Say You’ll Stay
Say You Want Me
Say I’m Yours
Say You Won’t Let Go: A Re
turn to Me/Masters and Mercenaries Novella
Second Time Around Series
We Own Tonight
One Last Time
Not Until You
If I Only Knew
Arrowood Brothers Series
Come Back for Me (1/7/20)
Fight for Me (5/19/20)
The One for Me (8/18/20)
Lie for Me (12/8/20)
Books by Melanie Harlow
The Speak Easy Duet
The Frenched Series
Frenched
Yanked
Forked
Floored
The Happy Crazy Love Series
Some Sort of Happy
Some Sort of Crazy
Some Sort of Love
The After We Fall Series
Man Candy
After We Fall
If You Were Mine
From This Moment
The One and Only Series
Only You
Only Him
Only Love
The Cloverleigh Farms Series
Irresistible
Undeniable
Insatiable
Strong Enough (A M/M romance cowritten with David Romanov)
About the Authors
Corinne Michaels is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of romance novels. Her stories are chock full of emotion, humor, and unrelenting love, and she enjoys putting her characters through intense heartbreak before finding a way to heal them through their struggles.
Corinne is a former Navy wife and happily married to the man of her dreams. She began her writing career after spending months away from her husband while he was deployed—reading and writing were her escapes from the loneliness. Corinne now lives in Virginia with her husband and is the emotional, witty, sarcastic, and fun-loving mom of two beautiful children.
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