A Bravo for Christmas

by Christine Rimmer

  And he didn’t stop. On down he went, kissing and nipping his way along the bumps of her ribs, into the hollow of her belly, where he lingered, dipping that tongue of his in and out of her navel.

  That was just naughty, the way he strummed her navel with his tongue.

  After which he went even lower, until he was right there at the center of her pleasure, rubbing his face in her wetness as he continued to stroke her with those evil, amazing fingers of his.

  She hit the crest and went over again. That time she lost it completely and shouted out his name. He loved that. She knew he did. Because he gave a low, self-satisfied chuckle and put a hand over her mouth—a hand that smelled of her own desire.

  “Shh, Ava. Shh, now...”

  When the stars stopped exploding behind her eyes, she bolted straight up to a sitting position, determined to take back a little control. Because right now she felt like a hot mess of quivering sensation, pleasured within about an inch of losing consciousness—all that from only his clever fingers and his genius tongue and those teeth that knew how to take a little nip in the exact right spot at just the perfect split second.

  “Baby, lie back down...” He said it gently, in that rough-tender voice of his that made her weak with yearning, had her ready and willing to do whatever he wanted.

  However he wanted.

  Any time that he desired.

  Okay, she’d been getting a little impatient with all his stalling, with the way he kept putting her off.

  But she sort of had to hand it to him. When the man got down to business, he sure knew how to hold up his end.

  She was still sitting up, still telling herself that it was her turn to take the lead, choose the course of action, kiss him a little senseless, make him shout her name.

  But then he did say her name—no, not in a shout. But quietly, soothingly. Just “Ava,” kind of drawing it out, sweet and slow and tender.

  That did it. She capitulated totally, surrendered unreservedly, flopping back against the pillows, putting her shaking body completely at his mercy. Little moaning sounds were coming from her mouth. Her eyes wouldn’t focus. And what had happened to her eyelids? She couldn’t lift them more than halfway. Each one seemed to weigh about a thousand pounds.

  “What...? I don’t...” Her words were gone, too. The ability to speak coherently had deserted her, along with everything else that made her the self-directed, independent woman she’d worked so hard to become.

  Backbone? Somehow, she’d lost hers. Now she was a rag of a woman, totally limp, utterly boneless, lying there at his command. All she had left was this delicious pleasure he kept giving her.

  Which was exactly what she’d fantasized about getting from him, now, wasn’t it?

  So she wasn’t complaining.

  Uh-uh. No way.

  “Ava...” He rose up on his knees over her, all broad shoulders and deep chest and thick arms, the powerful muscles in his thighs flexing so beautifully. All he needed was a trident, a golden helmet and a shield. He could star in a gladiator movie.

  He had the bedside drawer open, the lid up on the box of condoms and took one of them out. He took off the wrapper and put it on.

  And then, at last, he came down to her. Gently, he nudged her legs wider, making room for himself between her thighs. He braced his forearms to each side of her, taking most of his own weight as he settled his big body all along her smaller one.

  Caught and held in his eyes, she gazed up at his face above her. He stared at her so intently, as though he meant to drink her up with his eyes.

  That was perfectly all right with her. She drank him up, too. He felt so right pressing into her, so heavy and male and exactly what she’d been missing for too many years.

  She felt him nudging her, seeking her wetness and heat. She spread her legs wider, welcoming him with an eager sigh.

  He sank home slowly, eyes still locked with hers.

  There were no words. They didn’t need them.

  Not right now.

  Right now, there was only the hot joy of him all over her, filling her so full and deep—and then somehow deeper still. There was his breath across her skin, his eyes rolling back when he hit that sweet spot within her, her own sharp, pleasured cry.

  She twined her arms around him. He reached down and wrapped those big hands around her thighs, lifting them, guiding them wider. She hooked her feet around him, too.

  Now, she surrounded him and he filled her—so completely. All the way.

  They were moving, hard and deep and fast.

  And then, without a break in rhythm, he rolled them and she was on top, rocking her way to another explosion of bliss.

  Or she would have been.

  If he would only let her.

  Just when she knew she would rock right to paradise, he gripped her hips and held her still.

  She opened her thousand-pound eyelids and did her best to glare down at him. “That is just cruel.”

  “Shh...” He had this look. This smug, knowing, sexy, infuriating look.

  “I think I hate you.”

  “Ava, don’t say that. You know you don’t.”

  “I think I...”

  And then he moved. A sharp thrust upward.

  And all she could do was groan in delight and roll like a river, tumbling fast, hurtling on toward the glorious fall.

  Again, he rolled. They were facing each other. He wrapped her upper leg around his hip and pushed in so deep as he claimed her mouth.

  An endless kiss, the two of them rocking in tandem, a slow pulse of energy sparking and flashing—from him, into her, forming a circle, a spinning ring of fire.

  And every time she almost hit the peak, he knew.

  He slowed.

  He waited. Until the peak receded, became only a beacon, a shining, heartbreaking possibility off in the distance.

  At which point he would let her start moving again—and move with her, so perfectly, driving her onward, pushing her exactly where she longed to go.

  Until he held off again.

  It so wasn’t fair. He made her want to bite him, tear him with her teeth, scratch him some more with her sharp fingernails.

  Up was down and down was sideways. Everything shimmered. Her bedroom was some glowing, magic bower. Her skin was too tight, glossy with sweat, everything burning, her body in flames.

  And then he was behind her, bending over her, so deep within her, she could feel him everywhere. His hand clasped her hip and slid in and under, finding her unerringly, stroking her higher again as he rocked her so perfectly.

  “Ava.” His voice like melting caramel in her ear. “Now?”

  She couldn’t believe it. He was actually asking her? “Yes,” she answered eagerly. “Oh, Dare. Yes, please...”

  “So sweet...”

  “Dare. Please...”

  “Come for me, baby. Come on. Do it now.”

  Oh, and she did.

  And it was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, a slow, hot blooming, almost gentle at first, but then stronger, deeper and harder. It went on and on, the force of it growing, widening, opening, until she was shuddering, quivering from head to toe.

  And he was there with her, surging into her, pulsing with his own completion, wrapping both big arms around her and lifting her, taking her upright, so they were both on their knees in the middle of the bed, his face in the curve of her neck, his mouth moving, branding words into her skin, rough, ragged words of pleasure, of satisfaction, of praise.

  And then it was fading, going transparent, the hard, thrilling wonder easing into a warm, happy glow. He went down to the bed, taking her with him, gathering her into him, wrapping himself all around her.

  She felt the rise and fall of his big chest against her spine w
ith each breath he took, felt the hair on his thighs, rough and springy along the backs of hers. And his arms. Oh, they were so good and strong and solid wrapped around her.

  She felt free in the strangest way.

  Soothed and happy.

  Cherished.

  Taken care of in a way she hadn’t been in far too long. A way she fully understood couldn’t last.

  And that was okay. Because this was just for the holidays, just for now. A lovely, secret, sexy magic to ring in the New Year.

  He smoothed her tangled hair back from her forehead, brushed a kiss against her ear and whispered, “Merry Christmas, Ava.”

  And she reached back to wrap her hand around his neck, turning her head to him, whispering, “Merry Christmas, Dare,” as their lips met.

  Chapter Nine

  “Black Russians,” said Nell as she handed one to Ava. “It’s a family tradition at Rory and Walker’s Christmas decorating party.”

  “Oh, come on,” Jody scoffed. “A family tradition? As I remember it, this is the third year Rory and Walker have thrown this party.”

  “So? I didn’t say it was a long tradition—and here, Jo-Jo. Let me whip one up for you.”

  “No, thanks.” Jody swirled the ice cubes in her glass. “Club soda’s great.”

  They—Nell, Jody, Chloe and Ava—stood at the island that separated the great room from the kitchen area in Walker and Rory McKellan’s gorgeous rustic ranch house. It was a good crowd that night, including all nine Bravo siblings, their significant others and also various friends. Christmas tunes played from the old-school stereo cabinet on the far wall, and Clara, Rory, and Elise were hanging ornaments on the tree. Ava glanced toward the fireplace where Dare stood with Walker, Dalton Ames and Elise’s new fiancé, Jed.

  Dare actually seemed to feel her gaze on him. He glanced her way and smiled. She got that heavy, throbbing feeling between her legs, and a series of knee-melting images from night-before-last flashed through her brain. She saw flames, she really did—each and every sexy mental image came surrounded in a ring of fire.

  Nell nudged Ava with her elbow. “Something going on between you and Dare now—I mean, other than his usual nonstop flirting?”

  Ava sipped her drink. “This is too good. Like an alcoholic fudge sundae.”

  “They are deadly,” agreed Chloe. “Better watch out.”

  Nell stared at Ava steadily. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Ava played the friend card. “Dare and me? We’re getting along great, even hanging around together now and then. Sylvie’s crazy about him.”

  Nell snickered. “Be that way.” She turned to Jody again. “One black Russian is not going to kill you. Lately, you’re just beyond serious, you know? I mean you’ve always been too damn secretive for your own good.”

  “I am not secretive.”

  “Yeah, you are. I mean, who knows what really goes on with you? But at least you used to laugh now and then. Lately, you’re like a stretched rubber band about to snap. You need to loosen up a little, have a little fun.”

  “Nellie, I love you.” Jody sipped her club soda and sighed. “Leave it alone.”

  Ryan McKellan, Walker’s brother, appeared at Nell’s shoulder. “How’s the Kahlua holding up? I have more in the car.”

  “So far, so good.” Nell gestured at the bottles, garnishes and glassware set out in front of her. “Man the bar, okay?”

  “I’m on it,” said Ryan. He owned McKellan’s pub in town and had probably brought most of the liquor and mixers arrayed on the island.

  “I’ve had about enough of this.” Nell grabbed Jody’s elbow. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

  Jody set down her club soda and grabbed Ava’s arm. “You’re coming, too.”

  Ava laughed. “Oh, no. Uh-uh. I don’t think so...”

  Jody leaned close and whispered, “Moral support. Please. I need you.”

  Nell cast a knowing glance at Jody’s hand on Ava’s arm. “Well, all right. Ava comes, too. Whatever it takes, that’s fine with me.”

  So Nell towed Jody and Jody pulled Ava across the great room toward the arch to the central hall.

  As they passed the fireplace, Dare mouthed, “What?”

  Ava widened her eyes and shrugged.

  And on they went down the central hallway to the front entry and up the stairs. At the top, on the upper landing, Nell seemed to know right where to go. She led them along the upper hallway and into a bedroom that faced the back of the house.

  “Well, this is familiar,” said Jody when they got in there and Nell shut the door. She leaned close to Ava and stage-whispered, “A couple of Christmases ago, Nellie had a meltdown in this very room.”

  “Not relevant.” Nell crossed her arms, tossed her thick ginger hair and set her lush mouth in a determined line.

  Jody explained anyway, with relish. “It was old family garbage. We worked it all out that night, Nell and me, Clara and Elise and Tracy.” Tracy Winham was a close family friend who’d moved to Seattle several months ago.

  Nell said, “And we’re working this out tonight. Sit down.” Jody opened her mouth to argue. “I mean it, Jody. Sit.” Jody gave in and perched on the bed. Ava took one of the two bedroom chairs. Nell went on, “Okay, now I just want to know—”

  A tap on the door cut her off. “Nell? Jody?” It was Clara’s voice.

  Nell stared at Jody, who glared right back. Finally, Nell said, “Well?”

  Jody made a wordless, angry sound. But then she got up and answered the door.

  Clara, Elise, Rory and Dare were clustered on the other side. Clara said, “We just had to be sure that everything’s all right.”

  “Come on in.” Jody stepped back. The four of them entered, and then Jody stuck her head out the door and made a big show of peering down the upper hall. “No one else?” She turned and confronted them all. “Why don’t we just invite the whole party up here?”

  “Sorry,” Clara said. “We’ve just been worried, that’s all. And when we saw Nell dragging you up the stairs, we couldn’t stand it. We couldn’t pretend that nothing was happening.”

  Rory added, “You’ve been so withdrawn, and you won’t talk to anybody.”

  “We just want to help,” Elise chimed in. “And we were keeping it sisters only—well, and Rory, of course. But Dare wouldn’t butt out.”

  Dare went to Jody. She looked up at him, misty-eyed. “I thought I should be here,” he said, and wrapped an arm across her shoulders. “You know, just in case you need a brother to back them the hell off...”

  “We don’t need backing off,” Nell huffed. “We need to understand so we can help.”

  “Thanks, Dare.” Jody sagged against him. She gave Ava a weak smile. “You too, Ava. It really did matter to me the day of the funeral, it helped, that you two didn’t let me just run from the church, that you stuck with me and you listened, that you were both so steady and kind.”

  “What is she talking about?” demanded Elise.

  “And hold on a minute,” said Nell. “Nick’s funeral? You said you didn’t want me to go with you to the funeral.”

  “She said the same thing to me.” Elise looked hurt.

  Rory and Clara both said, “Me, too.”

  Jody hung her head. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready yet to talk about it, and I was afraid I might lose it completely during the service.”

  Nell gestured widely with both hands. “Which was exactly why you needed a sister there with you.”

  “We only want to help, all of us,” Clara put in gently. “But how can we help if you keep shutting us out?”

  Rory and Elise both murmured, “That’s right.”

  And Jody just stood there in the shelter of Dare’s strong arm, her sheepish gaze jumping from one sister
to the next. “Fine,” she said at last. “Okay.” She drew in a slow breath and straightened her shoulders. “I’m having Nick Yancy’s baby.”

  Clara cried, “Oh!”

  Nell sighed as Rory and Elise made soft, sympathetic sounds.

  Jody gave a tiny shrug. “It’s true.” She frowned. “What else? Let’s see. I’m a little more than three months along. Yes, Nick knew. He was a total sweetheart about it and said he wanted to marry me. But, well, I just wasn’t in love with him, and marriage wasn’t going to happen. We had a couple of discussions about how we would work it out, the two of us, as coparents. They were tense, those conversations. He really thought marriage was the answer and I didn’t, and, well, and then, he was gone.” Her voice broke on that last word.

  With a cry, Nell started toward her.

  “Wait, Nellie.” Jody huddled a little closer to Dare. “Just wait, please. Just let me finish.”

  Nell stopped midstep.

  Jody swallowed hard. “It wrecks me, that he died. It’s all wrong that he died. He was a great guy and so young. And I’m...” A tear slid down her cheek. And then another. She swiped them away with the back of her hand. “I feel awful about Nick. But not about this baby. No, I didn’t expect to get pregnant. But I did. And I want this baby. I’m going to do this right, I really am. I’m going to be a single mom. And I am absolutely fine with that.” They were all frozen in place. Nobody seemed to know what to say. Jody swiped another tear away. “That’s it. That’s all.”

  And somehow, that mobilized them. They went for Jody, who glanced up at Dare with a nod. Dare stepped back to give them room. They gathered around her, hugging her, saying how much they loved her, promising that they were there for her, whatever she needed.

  Anytime. Anywhere.

  * * *

  It was after midnight when they got back to Ava’s house. Darius pulled in at the curb behind the baby sitter’s red Subaru.

  Ava didn’t want to let him go. “Come in. For a little while...”

  He reached out and eased his hand under the curtain of her hair, his warm fingers settling on the back of her neck. “Come here.” She leaned across the console, offering her mouth to him. He took it, rubbing warm little circles on her nape as his lips played over hers.