Longing for a Cowboy Christmas

by Leigh Greenwood

  Framing her face in his hands, he pressed the flat of his thumb to the center of her lower lip. Desire still burned bright and hot in his eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked in a voice that was heavily laced with hunger.

  On impulse, she parted her lips and brought his thumb into her mouth. Closing her lips over it, she swirled her tongue around the tip.

  He closed his eyes. A heavy groan sounded in his throat.

  With another teasing swirl of her tongue, she parted her lips. He withdrew his thumb slowly, dragging it over the edge of her teeth before swiping it across her lower lip. The action cause a tingling thread of sensation to wind through her center.

  “I concede,” she murmured. “Your arrogance is warranted.”

  His lopsided smile went straight to her heart, and his deep chuckle warmed her from head to toe. “That’s just the beginning. There’s so much more to come.”

  She shifted beneath him. “Show me.”

  Lowering his head beside hers, he whispered darkly into her ear. “I promised we’d have all night.” He shifted to settle beside her. With a large hand splayed on her belly, he gently urged her to her side facing away from him, then he pulled her toward him until her back curved against his chest and her buttocks pressed firmly to his still-hard length. “Rest now, lass. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You couldn’t even if you wanted to,” she replied sleepily as her eyes fell closed without her full consent. The warmth of the furs and the fire and the secure comfort of his body embracing hers were too much to resist, and she drifted off to sleep.

  It couldn’t have been much later that she woke again.

  The fire still blazed, and her body retained a subtle hum of sensual awareness—though it was possible the hum was a reawakening, since George was pressing delicate little kisses across the back of her shoulders and along her nape. Tingling sparked over the surface of her skin, and her womb tensed with delicious yearning. She rolled her hips back, seeking a more intimate connection with his body, and he responded by sliding his hand over her hip to flatten against her stomach. When she rolled her hips again, he pressed with his palm, creating a wonderful balance of pressure from the front and from behind.

  It was a heady, intoxicating sensation, the sense of being held—surrounded—but not contained.

  She rolled her hips again.

  He gently scraped his teeth across the muscle of her shoulder, drawing a swift gasp. “Are you ready for more?” he murmured thickly.

  Yes. More.

  She couldn’t speak and instead replied by arching her head back, exposing her throat to more attention. The wet heat of his mouth slid up the column of her neck until his teeth closed over her earlobe. He held the soft flesh between his teeth as he slid his hand down between her thighs.

  His touch was gentle and insistent as he slid his middle finger along her crease and then between. Delving into her heated moisture. Circling the apex in teasing strokes. Triggering a deep, aching sweetness.

  She gasped and moaned.

  He reduced her so easily to primitive sounds and thoughtless feeling.

  She loved it. She craved it. She embraced the power it gave her to explore the full depths of the experience.

  When he pushed his muscled thigh between hers, parting her legs to allow him better access, she was more than ready. And when he inserted first one finger, then two into her body, she welcomed the taut anticipation that infused her muscles. Encircling his wrist with her hand, she urged him to a slow, possessive rhythm of thrust and retreat.

  As she rocked her hips against his hand, she felt the growing, hardening length of his erection against her buttocks.

  More.

  With a low sound, she eased his hand from between her legs and turned in his arms. Grasping his head in her hands, she brought his mouth to hers for a deep, wet kiss. His tongue tangled with hers, and his hands gripped her rear.

  Drawing back, she accused, “You’ve still got your britches on.”

  “Should I take them off?”

  “You’d better,” she replied roughly.

  He chuckled. Rolling to his back, he quickly shucked the pants beneath the furs and tossed them aside before turning toward her again and drawing her back into his arms.

  She gasped at the heat of his skin as it came in contact with hers, and the full length of his erection throbbed between them. Hooking her leg over his hip, she leveraged herself against him until his smooth tip pressed firmly to her entrance.

  Then she stopped. Gasping for breath against his lips, she opened her eyes and met his heavy-lidded gaze. The moment was suddenly poised on a precipice.

  “Do you want to stop?”

  Lucy gave a short shake of her head.

  “I’ll be wanting to hear the words.” His Scottish burr had thickened with his desire.

  She closed her eyes and drew a long breath that filled her with light and hope and something so much more than any feeling she’d ever imagined before. “I don’t want to stop. Ever, I think,” she added with a smile as she opened her eyes again.

  “It seems we’re in perfect agreement,” he replied roughly before he took her mouth in a kiss, grasped her firmly around the waist and rolled her to her back.

  This time, when he settled between her legs, there was nothing between them.

  The smooth tip of his erection pressed more fully to her core. In a rush of impatience, she bent her legs alongside his hips to create a deeper cradle. The increased pressure was satisfying, but it wasn’t quite enough. Yet, he didn’t move to enter her. In fact, he seemed to stop completely; his breath heavy and rough, his eyes tightly closed.

  She slid her hands up and down his tensely muscled back. His skin was heated and slicked with sweat. Everywhere she touched, he felt wonderful. Masculine, strong…hers.

  Oh, how she wanted that to be true. Not just for tonight, but for always.

  She could imagine spending the rest of her life with him taking up the chair beside her, making her laugh with his teasing smile, getting up early to make her breakfast.

  She didn’t realize she’d stopped caressing him and now clung to him with her face tucked to the curve of his throat until he eased back in her arms to look down at her.

  Though she would have preferred to hide the emotions rising high in her chest, pressing through her throat, she didn’t. She couldn’t find it in herself to be anything but completely honest with him in that moment, so she left herself exposed to his gaze.

  The flash of concern in his eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her. His brows lowered, and his lips pressed together. When a tear escaped from the corner of her eye, he caught it with a swipe of his thumb across her temple.

  Her stomach tightened with the fear that he wouldn’t like what he saw. But then one corner of his mouth ticked upward. “It’s a lot to manage, isn’t it, lass?”

  And then she knew. He was feeling it, too.

  It was there in the storm of his eyes, in the control he exerted over his body and in the care he gave hers.

  Perhaps he was like that with all his prior lovers. But at least right now, it was just for her.

  “We can wait,” he said gruffly as he started to lift himself off her.

  “No,” she cried in a burst of panic, reaching down between them to wrap her hand around his hard length.

  He groaned.

  He was much larger than she’d expected. And smoother. And hotter.

  Once she had him in her hand, she couldn’t help but explore as she slid her hand down to the base and then back up to his blunt tip. He was magnificent.

  He held himself rigid and still, supporting his weight on straight arms roped with muscle. As she stroked him up and down, then circled her fingers around the ridge at the top, he bowed his head and breathed heavy through his nose.

  “You make me weak,�
� he muttered.

  The words gave her a rush of power and purpose.

  Taking him in hand, she guided him to her entrance. She rolled her hips against him, coating his tip in her moisture, coaxing him with her heat.

  He groaned again—a deep, rich sound. And she smiled. “I’m going to need your help with this part,” she said.

  He lifted his head and pinned her with a wicked stare. “I don’t think you need my help with anything, but I’m more than happy to join you in this…if you’re certain.”

  “I am. Very. I honestly don’t think I can handle this ache inside me much longer.” She squeezed him, enjoying the way his gaze unfocused as she did so. Seeing his pleasure fueled her own. “I need you to fill me,” she whispered huskily.

  He lowered his mouth swiftly to hers, claiming her lips and tongue in a possessive, passionate kiss. The he braced his weight on one elbow as he reached between them and took himself from her hand. “Hold on to me, lass.”

  She did as he said, grasping hard to his upper arms as he began to press into her body.

  His size and her inexperience made the way difficult and slow.

  She arched her head back and tightened her legs around his hips as the burning sensation of his possession took over her awareness. It wasn’t exactly painful…just totally consuming. The pressure and stretching and inescapable fullness; the odd sense of invasion and surrender. She wanted it desperately, and yet she fought it at the same time.

  “Kiss me,” he murmured against the side of her throat.

  She turned her head and met his mouth. His tongue invaded with a luxurious glide, and his gaze bored into hers. As he sucked her tongue into his mouth, he withdrew. Not by much, but it was enough for her to feel a shift inside her from the altered friction. Then he pressed forward again, going deeper.

  She gasped into his mouth.

  He withdrew and thrust forward again; slowly, patiently claiming a deeper connection.

  Sweat slicked his skin and dripped from his brow, yet he maintained a steady, careful rhythm. A rhythm that glided along sensitive inner nerves she didn’t know existed until they were wide awake and yearning. A rhythm that slid thick and hard over the bud of her sex with every stroke until she felt that delicious building of tension inside her once again. Except it originated from such a deeper place this time.

  She curled against him—sliding her arms around his neck and wrapping her legs around his hips—and kept fierce contact with his mouth. She wanted to taste him as he consumed her body with his. She wanted to breathe him in with every breath.

  She held tight as something began to break inside her. It was like the burst of pleasure from earlier, but more. It pulsed into being with a deep and gorgeous song, igniting sparks along the way as it spread through her.

  “Lucy.” Her name on his lips anchored her to him as he gave a hoarse cry and thrust deep. His release pulsed in her core.

  She’d never felt so perfectly content in all her life as she did in that moment.

  * * *

  Later, they lay on their sides, facing each other before the slowly fading fire. They’d both dressed some time ago and now lay tucked beneath the furs as the flickering light danced about the room.

  George swept his hand up and down her arm. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her, as though he needed to assure himself she was real and not some dream he’d conjured up. He’d never felt so complete after being with a woman. So complete and yet insatiably hungry and deeply moved.

  Lucy had curled around his heart, filling the empty spaces in his soul with her lovely, sarcastic, generous self.

  How had he existed before her?

  How could he imagine ever existing without her again?

  Something of his thoughts must have shown in his eyes because her brows dipped subtly over her gaze. Reaching her hand to caress his jaw, she lifted her face and brought her lips to his.

  The kiss was sweet and sleepy. Perfect.

  He closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around her waist to tug her in closer. Her lips slid to his cheek and then the side of his throat as she tucked her head beneath his chin.

  Within seconds, they were both asleep.

  Nine

  Lucy woke with a start. Her heart was beating a fierce rhythm as she sucked in a deep breath that seared a choking path to her lungs. Her ragged coughing startled George, bringing him to full wakefulness in an instant. He immediately leapt to his feet, dragging Lucy up with him.

  “Fire! Lucy, the cabin’s on fire.”

  She looked around and noticed that the reddish glow around them didn’t come from the fireplace, but from the corner of the cabin near the door. As she spun in place, more flames leaped to life around them, dancing up the walls until they were quickly surrounded.

  Despite the rapidly rising heat around them, her blood ran ice cold and her heart froze in shock at the realization of what was happening.

  “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

  George’s words finally spurred her into movement, and they rushed to the door as smoke unfurled, thick and black in the air. Bending low, they stuffed their feet in their boots. George’s expression was grim as he threw her coat around her shoulders, then grabbed his own before reaching for the door.

  It wouldn’t budge.

  “What in bloody hell?” He shoved again.

  It was stuck. Panic rushed through Lucy’s body, tightening her lungs against the invading smoke.

  They had to get out. Now.

  With a low growl of fury, George took two long steps back, then charged at the door with all his strength and momentum, splitting the wood and propelling him out into the winter night.

  Lucy charged after him, gasping for breath as soon as the crisp winter air hit her face.

  The snow crunched under their feet as they ran from the cabin. The night was still dark, but the full moon illuminated the snow and cast an eerie orange glow all around. Through the crackle and snap of the heated inferno, she heard the distressed call of the horses.

  “Stay here,” George shouted as he took off running toward the cave.

  Still sucking in great gulps of clean air, Lucy was too stunned to do anything more than turn around to look back at the fiery destruction being wrought on her home. Billows of black smoke rolled from her chimney and doorway. Roaring flames climbed the outer walls and danced along her roof.

  Everything inside her clenched tight. A sob that wouldn’t release threatened to choke her as her eyes burned from smoke and emotion.

  The cabin wasn’t going to last much more than another few minutes.

  The cabin and everything in it; a lifetime of personal treasures.

  Her heart gave a sudden jolt as she realized there was one thing in particular she could not leave to be destroyed along with everything else.

  She had to go back.

  Without considering the risk—or anything at all—she charged across the snow and into the cabin. The smoke was so thick she could barely see and the flames were everywhere—bright and hot and furious. But she charged forward. It took her only a minute to grab what she’d wanted and stuff it under her coat, but by the time she stumbled back outside, her eyes were stinging and her lungs felt like they were trapped in a heated vise.

  The heat at her back kept her stumbling across the snow as she hastily wiped the burning tears from her eyes.

  Suddenly, an arm came around her from behind, drawing her up short as a disgusting cackle sounded in her ear. “I’d’ve been happy to know you roasted alive in there, but I can’t say I’m disappointed for the chance for a little sport before you die. How does it feel, knowing your man just ran off and left you to burn?”

  It was the man who’d assaulted her in town. Lucy snarled and twisted in his grip. She kicked back with one foot, connecting with his knee and causing him to loosen his hold just eno
ugh that she could bend forward and withdraw the knife she had stashed in the lining of her boot. She didn’t hesitate to slash at the arm around her waist.

  He let her go with a howl of pain.

  Lucy whirled to face him, her knife raised and ready.

  Her attacker glared at her. Then he smiled as he lifted a pistol from under his coat. “You’re probably a shit lay anyway,” he sneered as he pulled back on the hammer of the gun.

  Lucy flipped the knife in her hand and lifted her arm to throw it.

  Before she could, George came flying out of the darkness at a full run. He tackled the other man to the ground, sending the gun flying from his hand to land nearly at Lucy’s feet. She quickly dove to scoop up the weapon while the two men tumbled across the snow. Her attacker somehow scrambled free and gained his feet first. But George leaped up swiftly after and immediately sidestepped to put himself between the crazed man and Lucy.

  Dammit. She appreciated his intention to protect her, but she couldn’t throw her knife if she couldn’t see her target past George’s wide shoulders.

  “You shoulda minded your own business back in town,” the smaller man sneered. “Now you’re both gonna die.”

  “Not tonight, mate,” George replied.

  Before she could get into better position, their attacker charged with a murderous yell. He was outmatched by George’s superior size and strength, but he didn’t seem to care.

  One swing of George’s great fist to his midsection doubled him over. But he refused to back down. He charged again; his lips drawn back in a snarl, madness bright in his glaring gaze.

  Another punch to the jaw sent him stumbling back. As he tried to regain purchase in the deep and shifting snow, he tripped over something on the ground and twisted to avoid losing his balance even more, but the added impetus sent him careening straight toward the cabin.

  Lucy’s body froze in place as she watched the scene unfolding as if in slow motion. For an odd moment, she almost stepped forward to reach for him—to stop his fall. But there was nothing she could do.