Rescuing Christmas

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  She needed to make love to her husband.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HOLDING SHELBY IN HIS arms was torture. His body throbbed with the urge to recline her onto the bed, to be with her again, to make her feel secure and loved in the only way he knew how. And she’d probably hate him for it, so he held on to his self-control by the skin of his teeth.

  But he wouldn’t push her away. Shelby’s tears were tearing him apart inside. She needed him, needed comfort. So he kept stroking his hands over her hair still damp from snowflakes and icy mist.

  The coyote attack and the wait at the vet’s had been hellish for him, too. And coming back to the hotel without the grouchy little pup stabbed at him more than he expected. It had to be a nightmare for Shelby.

  If it killed him, he would hold her, comfort her, through the night even. He would be there for her now in a way that he hadn’t during all those deployments.

  Was it his imagination or was she pressing closer to him? He stroked down her spine, clenching his jaw against the temptation of her soft breasts against his chest.

  “Alex?”

  “Yeah, Shel?”

  Her fingers skipped down his chest to his hip, hooking her finger in the edge of the towel.

  His heart stuttered. Stopped. Then kicked into high gear. There was no mistaking her sensual message.

  Still, he stayed immobile, letting her make the next move. Needing to be sure this was what she wanted as damn much as he did.

  Angling to meet his eyes, she plucked at the knotted towel until it eased free.

  She slid her hand up his thigh, her cool skin setting his on fire. Then she clasped his erection, wrapping her fingers around him in a slow sweep up.

  No mistaking that message, either.

  Cupping her head, he kissed her, firmly, fully, no holding back. She met each thrust and sweep of his tongue, their bodies syncing with the familiarity of longtime lovers. The taste of cocoa and marshmallows lingered on her, reminding him of their conversation earlier, of all he’d told her. And she hadn’t pushed him away. He’d held so much back from her out of fear. Had that fear been totally baseless?

  Right now he didn’t want to think, just lose himself in his wife. Savor the hell out of making her as hot and high as she made him. He slid his hand under the waistband of her sweater to the silken skin of her stomach.

  “More,” she demanded, nipping his shoulder while tugging her sweater up and over her head, shaking her hair free. She struggled to reach behind her to get rid of her bra, but he brushed her hands away.

  “Let me,” he said simply, unhooking it and sweeping the peach lace down and away.

  Words left him altogether. He never tired of looking at her. The cool air pulled her nipples into tight buds that called to his hands and his mouth. He cradled the weight of her in his palms, his thumbs circling both tempting peaks. He couldn’t get enough of the feel of her, the taste of her. How the hell had he believed he could ever walk away from this woman?

  He kissed his way up her body, along her collarbone to her neck and then her mouth. The warmth of her bare flesh heightened the familiar scent of her raspberry body wash, sending a bolt of desire straight to his shaft.

  Her arms looped around his neck, and she threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging urgently. Moaning, she wriggled onto his lap. Her legs wrapped around his waist, the core of her nestled against his erection. The rasp of her jeans reminded him there were still too many clothes between them.

  Standing, he turned and settled her on the bed again, silencing her protest with a kiss.

  “Trust me,” he vowed.

  He knelt between her legs and her eyes went wide with pleasure. Rocking back on his heels, he took Shelby’s foot in his hands and slipped her sock down, then off. With the perfect pressure, he pressed his thumbs up the arch before shifting his attention to her other foot.

  A purr rolled up her throat as she all but melted onto the mattress.

  “Every day that I’m away from you, all I think about is being with you again.” He opened her jeans and peeled them down her legs. “Ahhh...an emerald belly-button ring.”

  She smiled, trailing her fingers over his shoulder. “Getting into the holiday spirit.”

  Would he be around to give her a ruby one for Valentine’s Day?

  Shoving aside the thought, he sketched his mouth over her stomach, flicking the jewel with his tongue on his way down to the ultimate gem. He tugged her panties off with his teeth then finally nuzzled her, finding the pearled bundle of tight nerves. Her heels dug deeper into his shoulders, her low groan stoking him, encouraging him to tease her close to the edge again and again until—

  Her climax came fast and hard, her cries of pleasure filling the room. It had always been intense between them, but even more so after they’d been apart for a while, as if they were saying with their bodies all the things they hadn’t—couldn’t—put into words.

  Before the flush left her creamy skin, he slid over her and settled on top of her, filling her. The urge to finish hammered through him with each urgent throb of his pulse. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder and gritted back the urge to thrust, quick and deep, to completion.

  Her fingers feathered down his shoulders and she chanted again and again that it was okay, to let go, but damned if he’d finish without her. Balancing on a razor’s edge of restraint, he sealed his mouth to hers, rocking his hips against her. He hooked a hand behind her knee and hitched her leg higher, thrusting deeper, angling her just so to bring her the most pleasure from every roll, every move.

  He knew her body, each special spot, and she knew him just as well. The way she used her teeth and nails nudged him closer and closer to the edge.

  The scent of raspberry, the taste of cocoa on her tongue—both would indelibly imprint this memory on his brain. Hell, Shelby was imprinted on him, she was a part of him, and she always would be. No divorce would end what he felt for her. The power of that tore through him, catapulting him over the edge. Her legs clamped harder around him, drawing him closer, taking him deeper as his orgasm racked through him. He pulsed inside her, claimed her.

  Loved her.

  Nothing had changed for him. He was still head over ass in love with his wife.

  And he didn’t have a damn clue how to keep her.

  * * *

  SHELBY RESTED HER FOREHEAD against the SUV window, watching the miles of snow-filled landscape blur by on their way to see her family. It had been a slow-going Christmas Eve trip—picking up Daisy, saying goodbye to Gene, packing everything up...and then getting hit by a blizzard. Their journey had stretched into the night and still Alex drove on while she watched for other cars or hazards.

  The silence—other than the low drone of the weather station—left her with too long to think about what happened in that hotel room. Alex had made love to her through the night, until there had been only a couple of hours to sleep before they picked up Daisy.

  Thank God, the puppy had been on her feet, tail wagging when they’d walked into the vet’s. The clinic tech had given them a list of warning signs to look out for and ten days’ worth of antibiotics. But other than that, Daisy was surprisingly spry for a dog that had wrestled with a coyote.

  Still, once they’d dropped Gene and his camera at the airport and bought Alex a new parka, she’d insisted on riding in the back with Daisy to be sure she didn’t scratch the wound on her neck. And, sure, she was probably avoiding Alex and the emotions he’d stirred in her last night. Like Daisy, she was hiding to avoid being rejected. How damn ironic that she finally had Alex all to herself in the car, could say whatever she wanted, and now she was the one who needed space to sort through her feelings.

  What had last night meant for them?

  Until she had an answer, she would keep her silence and her distance. God
knows she didn’t want to start a major confrontation right before arriving at her parents’. Pretending in front of them would be tough enough. She stroked Daisy’s satiny black coat, desperate for any peace she could find.

  The closer she got to their destination, the more her stomach churned. When they closed the bedroom door tonight, would they silently make love again with no idea where their relationship was going?

  Her heart couldn’t take that.

  But she also wouldn’t turn him away.

  * * *

  ALEX UNLOADED THE LAST of the gifts from the car-top carrier, the evening sky starless with thick clouds that created a low ceiling. They’d arrived about fifteen minutes ago, just shy of midnight.

  Only her father—the colonel—had been awake. Everyone else was already asleep, since Shelby had called to say they weren’t sure how late they would arrive. She was inside now, settling Daisy for the night in their bedroom.

  The bedroom he would be sharing with her shortly. And he had no idea how the hell he was supposed to act around her after an entire day of near silence other than bare-necessity exchanges like...

  Watch out for that skidding car.

  Do you want Taco Bell or Wendy’s?

  Daisy needs a break.

  Alex adjusted his hold on the two sacks of Christmas gifts, none of which had been bought by him—including the gifts from him. And now it was too late to buy anything for Shelby.

  Her dad stepped out onto the porch of his two-story brick house in a quiet neighborhood. A lanky guy with a full head of steel-gray hair still cut military short, Zach Dawson had retired a colonel after twenty-five years in the air force to spend more time with his family. Now he worked as a consultant for a major aerospace company.

  Zach Dawson had never needed to seek out ways to avoid his wife. He knew at least that much about the man...if little else. Last night he had realized he’d been keeping a part of himself from Shelby, afraid that if she knew him completely, she would turn away. Now, with each step closer to Zach, Alex understood that he’d been avoiding her family for the same reason. Not a particularly honorable way to behave.

  And regardless of how things turned out with Shelby, he had some fences to mend.

  Starting now.

  Zach extended a hand for one of the bags. “Need some help?”

  “Thank you.” Alex handed the older man the lighter bag and followed him into the warm living room, dimly lit with twinkling strings of lights on the mantel and on the tree that stretched up to the cathedral ceiling. A new video game system with a fat red bow rested by the empty plate labeled Santa’s Cookies.

  Kneeling by the live pine, Alex began unloading the packages. He glanced sideways at Zach. “Sir, I owe you an apology.”

  His father-in-law paused midstep, an eyebrow shooting upward. “For what?”

  A lot of things, but for starters... “I should have come to you before we eloped, or at least right after. Should have shown you the kind of man I was, and reassured you that I loved Shelby and would take care of her.”

  Except he hadn’t. He’d run from her as fast as he’d run from her father.

  Alex looked down at the perfectly wrapped gift, with a bow that was damn near a work of art. How many Christmases had Shelby prepped alone, trying to make things perfect for him, working in such a frenzy to prove she wasn’t her mother? That she wasn’t a failure at marriage and a disappointment to everyone? And rather than telling her how much he loved her, rather than listening to her fears, he’d breezed through her life for a few days, just as quickly on his way back out again the minute the emotions got too intense.

  Zach studied the small gift bag in his hand. “Thank you. Apologies are never easy and I appreciate that.” He tucked the present under a piney bough. “But to be clear, I wasn’t upset with who she married or even that she married so young, just that she’d eloped. My daughter is a competent woman who can take care of herself. But I wanted to walk my daughter down the aisle, wanted to look into the eyes of the man she was marrying and be assured he loved her.”

  Guilt piled on like a snowdrift sliding off a roof. “I may be eight years late with this, but I do love your daughter, sir. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

  “Then why the hell are you divorcing her?” Zach said with piercing directness.

  Damn. Alex sank back to sit on the rug, the low fire crackling quietly in the fireplace. “You know?”

  “I wasn’t sure until now.” The colonel scrubbed his jaw then sat, as well. “But it’s obvious you’re both miserable.”

  Apparently they weren’t as good at acting as they’d thought. Hopefully they’d done better for the camera. “Aren’t you going to ask why?”

  “No,” Zach answered, even though he clearly had an idea in his mind.

  “But you have something you want to say.”

  Late-night silence wrapped around them with only the sound of wind in the trees outside and the occasional pop of a log in the fireplace.

  Finally, his father-in-law nodded. “Advice. If you want it. If not, I understand.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I know my daughter worries about being like her mom, but she’s more like her old man.” Zach smiled in a one-sided grin Shelby had once said resulted from nerve damage to his face after his stint as a POW. “We’re both stubborn, driven and convinced if we just work hard enough we can take care of everyone.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  Zach picked up a fireplace poker and stabbed at the log, rejuvenating the flame. “Julia and I almost split up once.”

  Now that surprised him. He’d always believed the colonel and his second wife were rock solid. Their happiness, their success, made it all the tougher to acknowledge his own floundering marriage. “Obviously, you two worked it out.”

  “We did. But I was all set to give her up because I thought that if walking away made her happy, then hell, I would do it. I would do anything for her...except what she needed most. I was so busy being the damn altruistic hero, I never did the truly heroic thing and fight to win her back.”

  “What happened to turn that around?”

  “She fought for me.” His smile dug deeper into his weathered face. “Thank God.”

  And if Shelby was like her dad, then the older guy was telling him to get off his ass and fight for his wife. Except he had no idea what she wanted from him anymore. “So I’m supposed to ignore everything she’s said and not give her a divorce. Fine, but then nothing’s changed. We’ll be right back where we started. She deserves better.”

  “Then figure out how to give her better.” Zach pushed to his feet and stowed the fire poker. “See you in the morning, son. Merry Christmas.”

  Alex stared into the fire long after his father-in-law’s footsteps faded. The words of wisdom shifted around in his head. Zach Dawson may have tossed out the phrase son offhandedly, but the fatherly advice was real enough.

  And a little alien to a guy who hadn’t been the recipient of much.

  All this time he’d been deluding himself into believing he was giving Shelby what she needed—more money for fertility treatments, then space to deal with her grief. But all the while he’d been like his own father, hiding out at the office rather than facing and fixing his problems. And a little like his mother, bunkering down his fears and insecurities to keep from being exposed, vulnerable. He accepted that now. But he hadn’t taken the final step in fixing that problem.

  Alex tugged the grate over the fireplace. He might not have the perfect answers. But he was done running and hiding.

  Standing, he made his way to the room he shared with Shelby. She lay on her side of the bed, one arm draped over the edge, touching Daisy. Both of them asleep. So he slipped under the covers carefully and slid his arms around his wife, tucking her agains
t him.

  His wife.

  Damn straight, he wasn’t giving up.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SHELBY WALKED DAISY off-leash around the fenced-in backyard, leaving fresh footprints in the snow as the sun peeked above the horizon on Christmas morning. The quiet would be short lived once the rest of the house woke. Certainly, her stepbrother, Patrick, would be up to check out his gift from Santa soon—a new video game system.

  Last night, she’d tried to stay awake to talk to Alex, but she’d drifted off to the low sounds of his voice and her father’s coming from the living room while she’d been upstairs settling Daisy. They so rarely spoke to each other, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to intrude, even though she was beyond curious as to what they would have say to each other now, after all these years of polite distance.

  She would ask Alex on their way home, when she didn’t have to worry about interruption or ruining Christmas. A private conversation would ease her curiosity. Too bad it wouldn’t give her the chance to spend another night in her husband’s arms. Once they were home, they wouldn’t be sharing the same room. The awkwardness of that next phase in their relationship was already making her ill.

  At least Daisy was recovering well, exploring the wooden fort. Only the shaved area on her neck served as a reminder of how she’d protected the two children at the RV park.

  The back door of the house creaked and her dad walked toward her with a hat in his hand. No doubt for her. She put her gloved hands to her bare ears and smiled in spite of the ever-present ache in her heart.

  Her father was always the relentless protector, trying to take care of everyone. It was in his DNA.

  “Hey, baby girl.” He passed her the green stocking cap. “Merry Christmas.”

  She tugged it over her ears. “Merry Christmas to you, too. You’re up early.”

  “Julia kicked me out of bed to turn on the coffeepot and move the breakfast casserole from the refrigerator into the oven.”

  “She didn’t make it, did she?” Her stepmom was an amazing person but a horrible cook.