Wrapped Up in a Beau

by Angelita Gill

  “That doesn’t make sense. You’re not intruding on anyone.”

  Emotions were surfacing, and the need to unburden overwhelmed her. Turning, she confessed. “You were right. I’m lonely. Want to know the truth, Mason? Every December, I pretend I have nothing better to do, so I can ask a friend to come visit them and their family during the holidays. Isn’t that pathetic? I basically use my friends to avoid being alone on Christmas.”

  Mason studied her and she dropped her gaze, humiliated at her admission. “That’s what this is about?” he asked. “You’re feeling guilty for spending Christmas with people who care about you?”

  Nice sugar coat. “I’ve been taking advantage of my friends.”

  “I’m sure none of them see it that way.”

  “Sure they do. Poor, pitiful Greta. On the outside looking in. No family of her own so she wants to be a part of ours for a week. They would never say it, but they have to be thinking it.”

  “True friends wouldn’t care. They’d be happy to have you around. Like Sophie. You think she invited you because she feels sorry for you?” He gave her a small smile. “I can tell you right now she asked you to come because she adores you. And considers you family, like a sister she never had. She wanted someone here to support her…and complain to,” he added with a chuckle.

  She shook her head, turning her back. “It’s still wrong.”

  “So you’re running away because you don’t want to get too close? Is that it?” When she didn’t answer, he caught her arm, turning her around. “Did it ever occur to you what you’d be doing if you left? Who you’d hurt? Greta, look at me.” He waited for her to meet his eyes. “I’m not just talking about Sophie. Or Leo. I’m talking about me. I’ve been crazy about you from the second we met. I want you so badly I can barely see straight. If you left without saying good-bye, I would’ve lost my mind worrying about you. Did you think of that?”

  “I was going to send you a text when I got to the airport,” she defended meekly.

  “A text message?” he asked weakly, hurt etched in his sharp features. “I thought you wanted to be with me as much I wanted to be with you. I guess I was wrong. If you don’t want to stay, if you’d rather be in England than here, I’ll get over it.”

  With that, he walked past her to his car.

  Greta was shaking, and not all of it was due to the elements.

  This wouldn’t be the first time her spontaneous nature had shamed her, and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last. She didn’t really want to leave, and she hadn’t thought everything through, the hurt she’d cause. She now realized she was tired of running.

  This was a sign. She unlocked the back door of the rental and pulled out her suitcases. Mason’s eyes were on her as she lugged both to his backseat, opened the door and tossed them in.

  She trudged to the passenger side and got in, avoiding his eyes. “I’ll call the tow truck in the morning. Will you take me back?”

  He nodded, but said nothing more as he started the car.

  The short drive was filled with pregnant silence. Greta didn’t know what to say. When they pulled up to the guesthouse, Mason left the car running as they climbed out. “I’ll help you with your bags.”

  Regretting she’d hurt him, she went to retrieve the key under the mat and unlocked the door, wanting to apologize, say something. Leaving the car in idle meant he didn’t intend to stay. How could he leave after all he’d said?

  While he carried her belongings inside, she rushed back to his car and switched off the ignition, taking the keys. Pulse beating wildly, knots coiling her insides, she walked inside the guesthouse and closed the door.

  She’d almost bumped into him as she turned around. Behind him, she saw he’d started a fire for her, and turned on her little radio, which she’d forgotten to pack. Oh, Mason. His expressionless face didn’t give her much confidence, and she briefly worried he would reject her.

  The next time we kiss…

  Mason’s dark brows lowered, and he impatiently reached for the doorknob. She blocked it.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  What I should have done a long time ago. Dropping his keys, she grasped his face, and pulled his mouth to hers.

  She’d surprised him. But only for a moment. His arms locked around her, and he responded with a groan, slanting his head, immediately demanding more. His lips and nose were cold against her face, but his tongue was warm velvet inside her mouth. Blood pounded in her head, her heart, making her knees knock. With a whimper, she broke free, yanked off his scarf and started unbuttoning his coat. Mason scrambled to do the same to hers.

  They panted, eager, as she helped him discard her jacket, her boots, her jeans, her sweater. So many stupid layers! Stripped, Greta had nothing on but her bra and underwear.

  He surveyed her one breathless moment, eyes like blue fire, raking over her body. “Greta,” he breathed. He swept her up, walked around the sofa and laid her down next to the fire, bending to kiss the space between her breasts. Rising, he stripped off his shirt and pants, tossing his clothes carelessly. She only had a second to admire his toned physique, the powerful set of shoulders, smooth chest and rippled abdomen.

  His gaze had darkened with fresh hunger, hooded, as he eased the lacy cup of her bra aside and dipped his head to her nipple. Greta arched at the tantalizing texture of his tongue and gave a little cry of satisfaction. As Mason swept his mouth to the other breast, she gripped his hair, moaning his name. Her whole body was aflame. She could smell the smoke—smoke!

  Her eyes flashed open. “Mason! Your clothes!” She sat up on her elbows and stretched an arm to reach for the dress shirt that had been blindly flung on the fireplace gate. A sleeve had caught a burning log and flames were eating the cotton with rapid ease.

  Before she could rescue the garment, Mason grabbed the shirt and tossed it in the hearth, causing sparks to fly. “It’s a lost cause. Afraid you’ll have to deal with me shirtless for the rest of the night.”

  Her head fell back and she laughed breathlessly, desire still humming in her head. How could he do it? Make her hot, passionate and giggly at the same time? When she lifted her head to meet his eyes, they were smoldering, while his mouth quirked in amusement. “I love the way you laugh. Have I told you that?”

  She smiled. “You just did.” For a second, her heart had stopped when she heard the first two words “I love.” Did she really think he was going to tell her he loved her?

  He took her hand and brought her up as he rose, then swept an arm under her knees. “As much as I want to make love to you next to the fire, I plan to take all night, and I think the bed is a lot more comfortable than the floor. What do you think?”

  With her hand at the back of his head, she brought him in for a searing kiss. “I think you’re taking too long to get me to bed.”

  He chuckled and proceeded to carry her up the stairs.

  While the silent snow fell thick and steadily outside, the wind blowing against the windows frosting the glass, Mason laid Greta on the bed and removed his boxers. He pulled off her panties and she unhooked her bra. Kissing her stomach, he took his time exploring every inch of her. His palms grazed from her ankle, to her thigh, then slid up her arm to hold down her wrist while he kissed her deep and slow. With his hard, masculine, superbly cut body covering every inch of her, she reveled in how feminine he made her feel. She bent her knee and smoothed her foot down his calf with a pleasurable moan.

  She rolled with him, her body languid, yet electrified. He wound his hand around her long hair, forcing her to expose her throat, and he nipped at her neck. When she sat up, he came with her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist. They kissed experimentally, tasting each other, gently biting and sucking lips.

  He hungrily transferred his mouth to her nipple and she gripped the back of his head—the sensation on the tender flesh shooting sparks to
each tiny nerve in her limbs. Everything ached and yearned for Mason to caress again, taste again. It was heaven to feel his desire. She couldn’t recall ever experiencing such growing passion, aching to feed it.

  He locked an arm around her, and swung her to her back.

  When his fingertips brushed between her legs, she nearly cried out, bowing her body, wanting more, and curved up to offer. He obliged, reading her body’s request, sliding his fingers over her wet center. Her hands clenched his shoulders and she gasped. When his mouth sought hers, capturing her breathlessness, she nearly moaned with relief.

  When he lifted his head, eyes searching, she kissed him. In the semi-dark, with her heart racing and her blood roaring in her ears, she was overwhelmed, unable to label it. All she knew was what he was doing to her. She couldn’t control the quiver through her body.

  Mistaking her reaction, Mason brought the sheets and down comforter over their bodies, as he planted soft kisses on her cheeks, back to her lips.

  His kiss was tender. Reaching to the nightstand, she plucked the lid off the tiny silver pot where she kept some jewelry…and protection. Good thing she had the forethought to buy some before tonight.

  “Thank God,” he breathed, taking it from her. “For a second there I thought we’d have to stop.”

  He quickly rolled on the condom as she wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her legs. Bending down, he traced his mouth over hers before easing inside, and she gasped as he stretched her. He groaned low with every inch, until he was deep within, beginning to pump. She bit her lip, head falling back at the exquisite rapture of making love. His flesh was hot—a wide back, muscles that bulged underneath her fingers.

  The more Mason took his time, the more she craved, the more she wanted him completely. The calm storm inside her turned and transformed to a raging whirlwind of liquid heat and exaltation. It eclipsed everything around her—everything except him. All she could see, touch, taste, hear and speak was Mason, and how he made her feel. Oh my, how he made her feel.

  As he thrust inside her, she cried out with wordless rapture over and over. His ardor was remarkably, impressively inhibited, as he slightly rotated his hips to give her more pleasure. Seeming to want to take his time.

  Their bodies were slick and hot under the sheets, grinding—seeking to culminate together. Greta breathed in deep, soul-drenching drafts, the rush speeding through every cell. On the inside, she exploded, forcing her to cry out his name, long and broken, clinging to him.

  Body and soul eclipsed one another and she could take no more, wanting to give back a fraction of the ecstasy he gave her. She gripped his butt, encouraging him to go faster, and raised her mouth to his for a wild, deep kiss. She played with his tongue, feeling his heart hammer against her chest, his hips thrusting.

  As Mason’s speed increased, she matched it, and hooked her ankles over his lower back. Mason tore his mouth away, burying his face in her neck. His sweaty palm gripped hers, fingers digging into her hand. She closed her eyes.

  Mason’s rough, loud groan combined with her cries, and together they flew to the highest peak.

  The silent winter storm contrasted with the tranquil warmth of the bedroom. Mother Nature made good on her promise, and even as the sun rose the next morning, it did nothing to slow down the snowflakes from the cloudy sky.

  Mason didn’t know how long he lay there awake, a sleeping Greta in his arms, with a contentment he’d been searching for, but never really found.

  When was the last time he felt like this?

  Was there ever a time? He’d had his share of relationships. Women whose company he enjoyed. But he always made sure he was understood. Planning for the future—unless it had to do with business—was not his forte. One day at a time, he’d tell them. And eventually, the woman would tire of this pace, give him an ultimatum, and they’d split up. It’d happened so many times, it was almost as if they were reading from a script.

  Toying with a lock of her wavy hair between his fingers, he knew it wouldn’t be like that with Greta. It already wasn’t. She wasn’t like other women. She…changed things. Stirred emotions he hadn’t thought he was capable of. Not just desire, but other more complex matters. Like his heart. His happiness. Ever since he’d met her, he’d started to see the world with new eyes.

  And boy, did she brighten it with her smile and laugh alone. On those two things, he would be happy to have her in his life forever.

  He slowly frowned. But he didn’t have forever. He had a very specific amount of time. She’d go back to her life abroad and he’d go on with his life in Swan’s Crossing. It disturbed him how his gut sank at the thought. Already, he dreaded losing her. Well, he thought, heaving those strange emotions aside, for now, she was there with him. Not good to think about what it’ll be like when she’s gone.

  Overnight they’d kicked the comforter to the edge of the bed, and he reached to pull it back up. She groaned at the movement, her sleepy, gorgeous brown eyes blinking up at him.

  “Hi, handsome.” Her voice was raspy from sleep. With her tangled hair, hooded eyes, and lips still plump and swollen from his kisses, he could barely stop himself from taking her that very moment.

  Wait. Why would he stop?

  Trapping her beneath him, he bent down and kissed her long, nudging her legs apart with his. Pressing himself against her center, he slid his arm under her back, forcing her body to mold to him. Her lips parted and she let out a whimper. He liked that. So sensual, this woman. So responsive to the lightest touch. He splayed his free hand at her chest and watched as she bowed while he slid his fingers down. He grazed her hip and thigh then back up, cupping her breast. He licked his way up her neck. “I want you,” he rasped, unable to mask the need in his voice.

  Making his way to her succulent mouth, he sucked in her bottom lip gently then slid his tongue inside, kissing her with erotic precision.

  He inched his way inside her body, and she groaned long, digging her nails in his back with urgent demand. “I want you, too.”

  He plunged inside with a moan, shocking them both, stretching her, sinking deep. Powerless to restrain himself this time, wanting her with explosive lust, he pumped with long, fast thrusts, making her cry out. His lovemaking was feverish and carnal, and he clung to her, hungry for the connection. Greta met his violent pace, holding him tight, as he rode them both to a soul-obliterating climax. Her name tore from his ragged throat, and he closed his eyes, lost in blind peace.

  They fell asleep for a bit, and he roused her to do it again. He was insatiable it seemed when it came to Greta.

  Hopefully, his need for her would dissipate after a while. Because even after they’d made love the third time—and she’d begged for a shower and something to eat—he had the impulse to pull her back. As he watched her slide off the bed wrapped in the white sheet like a goddess, he knew he was headed for trouble. She sent him a seductive smile before disappearing into the bathroom, and his chest tightened uncomfortably.

  Don’t you do it, Renclair. Don’t you fall.

  Later, after he’d taken his own shower and come downstairs, he smiled at the sights and sounds that greeted him. Greta’s old radio was on, a bluesy Christmas song crackling through. She was baking in the kitchen, and appeared fresh and glowing in her white, low-cut sweater, hair mussed, loose.

  Since his stay had been spontaneous, he had nothing to wear except his undershirt and pants from yesterday. There was no evidence of the shirt that had been sacrificed in the fireplace last night, save for a pile of ashes. He quickly contemplated if he should go home to change.

  A glance outside showed the storm had finally let up, but had left inches of snow in its wake. His car, buried and blocked in by at least a foot and a half of snow, could barely be recognized.

  Though it wouldn’t be that difficult to get it out, he determined the effort could wait. He’d call Ben and ask him to bring w
hatever he could find in his father’s closet. “Safe to say you’re stuck with me for a while. It’ll take a lot of hard work to unearth my car, and I don’t work on vacation. We’ll just have to keep each other busy until the snow melts.”

  She smiled, setting a plate of hot biscuits on the table. “That sounds like it could take a while.”

  He winked at her, pulling out a chair. “At least for one afternoon.”

  Along with extra biscuits and jam, she brought over a pot of coffee with two mugs. They nibbled on the food, making small talk, and playing footsie under the table.

  He didn’t want to bring up last night and spoil the mood, but he had questions, and they weren’t going away. By pure chance, he’d seen her on the road, and if he hadn’t, she would’ve been long gone. Crumpling up his napkin, he cleared his throat. “About yesterday—”

  “Omigod, I forgot. The car! I need to call a tow truck,” she exclaimed and sprung up, but before she could escape, he caught her hand.

  “Greta, we have to talk about this.” Her brown eyes gazed down at him with regret. She didn’t want to explain herself. But he had to know. “The rental car is fine. Sit down. I want to know what made you want to bolt to the airport.”

  She hesitated then sank down on the seat, shaking her head. “Honestly, I don’t really know. I was spooked. I wanted to leave—didn’t want to become more attached than I already am.”

  “Why is that such a bad thing?”

  “It’s who I am, Mason. I’ve been coming and going as I please for years.”

  He understood her reasons, even though he didn’t know where they came from. Something must have happened for her to feel this way. A broken home. A broken family. The one she avoided discussing at all times. And it dawned on him why she pushed for him to appreciate his own family, the place he grew up.

  But he couldn’t ask her why she really had such a restless heart. At least, not yet. Reaching, he interlaced his fingers in hers. “I care about you. And I know I’m not the only one. Whether or not you want to admit it, you are involved, even if it is for a short time. You’re the reason I’m enjoying Christmas at home again.”