Once Upon a Holiday

by Beverly Jenkins

  “I’m going to love you until you can’t walk…” he promised gruffly.

  The words made her throb and tighten in response to the glorious play of his hand. Through the haze surrounding her, she set her hand against the hardness jutting against his unzipped jeans and took hold. His head fell back. Her eyes glittered with passion and satisfaction at what her rhythmic possession was doing to him, and she kept it up until he growled and stopped her hand. A loud knock on the door broke the moment. A young male voice called loudly. “You ordered a pizza!”

  They both cursed.

  Leyton slid his fingers across her damp vent and kissed her. “I’ll take care of the pizza. Meet me in the shower in two minutes.”

  Eve had no idea how she made it up the stairs, but she did.

  The shower was the most decadent one she’d ever had. While the water poured over them, he kissed his way from the wet globes of her breasts to the nook of her navel, and then on his knees slowly treated the already swollen and pulsing gates of her soul to a shameless act of devotion. He fed greedily, thoroughly. She spread her legs wide and when his mouth took in that small kernel of flesh that made her woman, the orgasm broke her down, and she twisted and cried and came. She grabbed his shoulders for support, but he continued dallying, coaxing until she let out another strangled scream of surrender. If not for his strong hands on her waist, she would have gladly melted to the shower floor and drowned. Instead, her grinning centurion soundlessly invited her to turn and face the shower’s back wall. With his hands and his lips he prepared her again. He ran a worshipping hand down her spine and caressed the butterfly that had brought her back to him. Brushing his lips across the back of her neck, he teased his fingers over the spot he’d just prepared so lustily a moment ago, and then slid his strong hardness into her welcoming softness. She purred from the bliss. Holding her by the waist, he began to move in and out—teasing, coaxing first slowly and surely, then quickening the pace. She caught fire again. It was so good and so incredibly erotic, her orgasm exploded. The delicious contractions of her tight sheath pushed him over the edge, too, causing him to shudder and stroke and yell out his release until they both collapsed under the hot pounding spray.

  Standing in the steam filled bathroom, he dried her while giving her long, lazy kisses. His free hand was wandering slowly over her warm damp skin, and they both knew they hadn’t had enough, but she let him continue his languid task while she basked with closed eyes, and while echoes of the orgasm pulsed softly between her thighs. “Till you can’t walk…” he whispered from behind her with his lips against the dewy edge of her neck. He reached around and filled his hands with her velvet weight and gently plucked and toyed with her nipples until she leaned back against him and moaned.

  “Come with me,” he invited, but first, he turned her to him and dropped his mouth to her breasts. Once her nipples were tight and pleading, he took her gently by the hand and led her into the bedroom.

  The moment her back touched the sheets, he silently followed her down, and they began again. He treated her to more centurion magic—seducing her, enticing her and whispering to her to let him make love to her like only he could. And she had no defense. No man had ever touched her so tenderly or so scandalously. She was more uninhibited with him than she’d been with any other, and she was the one on her knees and feeding on him. He groaned breathlessly in response to her wanton devotions and then she slid up his body, taking his swollen shaft into her and smiling down at him with sparkling eyes.

  “You like this, don’t you?’ he asked.

  She began to move. Leaning down, she whispered against his ear, “Every woman likes it with a man who does it right.”

  “Then ride on, goddess,” he invited as they kissed.

  And ride she did.

  For the rest of the night and into the morning they made love—sitting, standing, in the shower again. Eve vaguely remembered being led from the shower and laid on a blanket downstairs in front of the fire. There in the dark, he made orgasms pour out of her like the river Nile and only then did they crawl into bed.

  Spooned against him and with his arm holding her close, she chuckled, “Good thing this place had two beds,” she chuckled.

  He brushed his lips against her bare shoulder. “I couldn’t walk back upstairs if somebody paid me a million dollars.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  He ran a hand over her hips. “No, your majesty, that good.”

  She grinned.

  He asked, “So, would a centurion be rising above his station to ask a goddess about a long-term relationship?”

  Eve turned to face him, and just as she opened her mouth to answer, her phone rang and the ringtone played the distinctive bass throbbing music from the TV show Cops.

  “Don’t answer that.”

  “Have to, it’s the office.” Lord knew she wished she could ignore it like he wanted her to, but she had to answer.

  Leyton lay in the bed looking at her beautiful back with its distinctive butterfly. He could tell by her cryptic responses that whatever was going on was important, and probably important enough to bring their interlude to an end. He was right.

  She closed the phone and looked back at him. “I have to go.”

  “Chicago?”

  Her response was quiet. “Can’t tell you.”

  Sighing, he sat up. “How soon?”

  “According to the call, an hour ago. I need to be out of here ASAP.”

  “At least let me run you to the airport.”

  She shook her head. “Can’t even let you know what airline I’m flying. I’m going to get a quick shower and call a cab.”

  “Are you going under?”

  She met his eyes just long enough for him to see her sadness before she left him and hurried up the steps to the shower. Alone, he pounded the bed.

  Upstairs, Eve showered quickly. Leaving him this way was breaking her heart, but she had no choice. The job came first, and yes, she was going undercover with no idea when she’d surface and see him again. That was the most painful part, just when they’d found each other again, the government needed her and its need overrode her own. She dried off and dressed herself in the set of nondescript jeans and top she always carried in her suitcase just in case and grabbed her coat.

  When she got back downstairs, he was making coffee in the kitchen. He’d pulled on a pair of black sweats and a DFD tee and all she could think about was being in his arms again.

  He asked, “Are you going to answer my question?”

  She knew what question he meant, but she didn’t really have time for this now. “Let me do this first, okay? When I’m done, I’ll be in touch.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Leyton.”

  “So am I, baby.”

  She knew that if she went into his arms she’d start bawling. But since there was no bawling in the ATF, she said, “Take care.”

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  She sensed she’d hurt him, but she was already hurting enough for the both of them. A horn blew outside. “That’s my cab. Be well, my centurion.”

  “You, too, my lady.”

  They shared a gaze filled with sadness and regret, and then she hurried out of the door.

  When his coffee was ready, Leyton took a seat before the now-dying fire and slowly sipped in the silence.

  An hour later, Eve was on a flight to L.A. and Leyton was driving home to Detroit.

  Chapter 8

  In the weeks that followed, Leyton threw himself back into work. Phillip Brandywine recovered enough to agree to testify against his brother-in-law, Marvin Crenshaw, in exchange for a lighter sentence. But Leyton didn’t think the developer would ever do any real time due to the extensive rehabilitation he was facing as a result of the fire. Crenshaw hadn’t been able to make bail so he was angrily sitting in the county lockup awaiting his day in court.

  It was now December. Leyton got up from his desk and walked over to the window to look out at the
city in winter. Puffs of steam from the city boilers rose from the manhole covers in the snow-lined streets as people bundled up in hats and gloves pulled their collars high, quickly making their way to their destinations. He hadn’t heard a word from Eve. He kept replaying their last moments together, seeing and hearing her seem to duck the question he’d asked. What would she have said had the phone not interrupted them? Yes? No? He had no way of knowing, and at the time he hadn’t been able to tell because of the poker face she’d been wearing. What he did know was that he now understood how his ex felt about the abrupt nature of the job. Until then, he’d always been the one hurrying away, never the one left behind, and the realization was an eye-opener. He’d never known this feeling of loss or considered that it would be mixed with disappointment, worry and a bit of resentment. He wasn’t sure he liked being on this end of things.

  However, Ms. ATF’s lack of an answer didn’t change the fact that he thought about her every morning when he opened his eyes and every night before he went to sleep. If she was undercover, he hoped she’d be safe, and if she hadn’t gotten in touch because she chose not to—he didn’t want to think about that. He wished her the best.

  Eve was half way across the country seated at a desk in a huge used tire warehouse in Santa Barbara, California. She was working undercover as an office temp hired as an administrative assistant to the boss, James Quinn. Quinn was under investigation for money laundering, dealing in illegal weapons and tax evasion. She’d been working the job now six weeks to the day, and so far the various agencies in the government task force had amassed almost enough evidence to convict him and everyone else in his five-man organization. Although being undercover in an office was way better than being on the street playing a hooker or a crackhead, she hoped that the operation would be wrapped up soon so she could fly home. Leyton had been on her mind since the moment they’d parted. In hindsight, she supposed she could have taken two minutes to answer his question instead of leaving it up in the air the way she had. But she’d been so focused on transforming herself back into Agent Clark that she’d had to set aside Eve Clark the woman, and as a result him, too. If she had given in to the happiness of saying yes, or to the sadness she felt getting into the cab and leaving him behind, the transformation would have taken longer, and she hadn’t had that luxury. She’d had to hit the ground running, turn herself into Tamika Wells, prim, soft-spoken and efficient, get on the job, and help the government get the goods on Quinn and the rest of the bad guys. In her private moments, she ached for Leyton and hoped when the investigation finished he would understand, take her in his arms, and let her say, yes.

  But in the meantime she had a job to do, so she went back to the letter Tamika was typing for the boss on the computer screen.

  Three days later, the day after Christmas, the government swooped down on James Quinn and his illegal operation like Godzilla on Tokyo. When the dust finally settled, Eve was on a flight to Chicago and home.

  After an indulgent bubble bath and a good night’s sleep, she got up the next morning and tried to decide what to do about Leyton. Should she contact him? She knew she wanted to but wasn’t sure he’d still be interested after all this time. She mulled it over for the rest of the day and in the end, decided she would. The question then became how? Thinking it over for a while she came up with a plan.

  One of the fire department’s mail clerks stuck her head in Leyton’s office. “Captain Palmer, FedEx left this for you.”

  Leyton took the small package and thanked her.

  After her departure, he used a box cutter to slit the tape and opened the top panels. The inside was filled with scented black tissue paper and inside was the black velvet domino Eve had worn the night they met. His heart started to pound as he slowly lifted it free and the memories it evoked filled his mind. Is this her way of saying goodbye? There was a note enclosed, so he set the mask down and read:

  The Warrior Goddess Oya humbly requests the centurion’s presence New Year’s Eve.

  Suite 2135—10 p.m.

  He picked up the mask again, eyed its sensual beauty and grinned like the happy man he was.

  By Eve’s calculations it would take her three months to pay off the credit card bill for the suite she’d reserved, but as she walked around and viewed the way the table was set and the intimate atmosphere created by the hotel staff, she decided it would be well worth the budget busting, but only if Leyton showed up. There was no guarantee he would, so she was a bit apprehensive as the time on the clock approached ten.

  She’d reserved this particular suite because it was same one they’d been in on Halloween, the night they met, and in spite of her hard-boiled demeanor, Eve was sentimental. In the weeks they’d been apart, she’d spent an inordinate amount of time thinking back to how much of a good guy he was and how magical he was in bed. It was the former that stood out, however, and the part of Leyton that she valued the most. She could be herself with him—good, bad or ugly. Even though he hadn’t seen those parts yet, she was certain he could handle it. She knew he wouldn’t turn out to be perfect either, but that was the beauty of a relationship, at least in her mind. Taking the good with the bad and attempting to make lemonade out of whatever lemons they each brought to the table. Not that she’d ever experienced any of that in her past dealings with men, but having watched her aunt and uncle growing up, she knew that that kind of give-and-take would be necessary.

  But in order for her to sip that lemonade, he had to make an appearance. So to keep herself from pacing, and yes, worrying, she snagged a meatball from the buffet laid out on the table in the suite and took a seat.

  At ten minutes past ten, the phone in the suite rang. Eve picked up.

  “Evening, your majesty.”

  Eve melted into a puddle at the sound of his Texas drawl. “Hello, centurion.”

  “I was at a fire, but I’m on my way now. Didn’t want you to worry about whether I was going to show up or not.” He paused for a moment to add softly, “Good hearing from you.”

  “Same here.”

  “I’m just turning into the parking garage. Be right up.”

  The call ended, and the great warrior goddess, wearing her black leather catsuit and long platinum wig, kicked up her heels with glee.

  Moments later there was a knock on the door. Drawing in a deep breath, Eve went to answer it. A quick peek through the hole showed him standing on the other side, so she opened it.

  For a moment neither spoke. They were too overcome by the memories.

  “Your centurion reporting for duty, my lady.”

  She feasted her eyes on the sight of him, and her nipples tightened in response to the heat in his eyes. “Welcome.” It had been too long since she’d seen him last. Way too long. “My answer is yes. In fact, I think we should just cut to the chase and think about making this permanent.”

  “Really?”

  “I do, but if that scares you or makes you want to run, I’ll understand. There’s the elevator.”

  He shook his head and walked by her and inside. She closed the door and turned to face him.

  He was standing with his arms folded.

  “What?”

  “You’ve been gone for almost eight weeks. You get me up here, you’re wearing that suit and all you want to do is talk and give orders. Come here and let me give that mouth of yours something else to do,” he fussed with mock severity.

  She tried hard to keep from smiling but failed. “It’s what we goddesses do.”

  His own smile peeked out. “I know, but come here anyway.”

  So she went to him and let him take her in his arms. It felt good.

  “Much better,” he said brushing his lips over hers. “I think we should make this long-term, too, but for now, I want to spend the next little while getting you out of this suit, and then you can talk all you want—if you can.”

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “It would be if you had a chance of winning.” He was already sliding her zip
per down. “I give you twenty minutes, tops, before you’re screaming loud enough to be heard in Canada.” He punctuated his words by placing hot kisses on her throat and the tops of her breasts above the neckline of her catsuit.

  She crooned in response. “You’re on.”

  He slid the front of the suit down to free her breasts, and before he leaned down to help himself, he promised, “You are so going to lose.”

  And Eve did lose—again, and again and again. In between, they did manage to remember to toast in the New Year with flutes of champagne and even to eat a bit of the food, but for the most part, they just made love.

  Finally when they settled down to sleep, Eve caught a glimpse of her catsuit lying in a puddle on the floor of the bedroom and made a mental note to make sure Shelly freed up her calendar so she could be maid of honor at the wedding. After all, this was her fault. With that decision made, Eve cuddled back against the man she planned to spend the rest of her life with, and as he pulled her closer, she closed her eyes, the happiest woman in the world.

  CANDY CHRISTMAS

  Adrianne Byrd

  To Didier: we’ll always have Paris

  Chapter 1

  A giddy Georgine Duran raced through the Christmas-decorated office of Nu4us in her black Prada heels and tight pencil skirt. “He’s coming. He’s coming,” she informed the ladies in their cubicles.

  Practically all of the women whipped out their compact mirrors, added swaths of lipstick and checked to make sure that their various hairdos were picture perfect. Some even added a spritz of perfume. A split second later, the ding of the elevator bay had them all scrambling to put their mirrors and makeup away and cast their eyes toward the elevator doors as they opened, in time to see their morning attraction.