‘I love you. I fell in love with you that first day, when you tried to break into my hotel room—and afterwards, when you wouldn’t look at me and were trying to prove how efficient you are.’
She shook her head. Still couldn’t quite believe. ‘But this is so fast. Who’s to say you won’t change your mind just as fast?’
He lifted his head from where he was kissing the base of her throat. Looked deep into her eyes. ‘Have you ever felt this way with anyone else?’
She shook her head again. She could answer that honestly. She’d never felt so inside-out before.
‘Then trust it, Imogen. Trust in me. Trust in us. Trust yourself.’
She wanted to—so much.
He smiled then—the sweetest, gentlest of smiles. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. Because I have the rest of our lives to prove it to you.’
Her cry was smothered by his mouth.
‘We’ll be together, you can study—whatever. Do whatever. Just let me love you.’ He kissed her. ‘I’ve missed you too much.’
He was right. This was so right. Her hands went round his neck again, holding him tight so she could kiss him back. And in doing so she revealed everything—her need, her desire, but most of all her love.
‘This is the real deal, sweetheart.’
With his words his love washed over her, destroying the last speck of her reserve. She wanted him—him and only him, and all of him—and now felt no need to fight it.
She unbuttoned her blouse, loving his groan as he saw her breasts. He bent his head, kissed them, and when he sucked her erect nipple into his mouth she was the one to groan. He spread his hand wide over her other begging breast and gently massaged it.
With firm fingers she pushed up his tee shirt, and he pulled away to wrench it over his head. She took the chance to unbutton his jeans. When she saw him she could wait no longer. She lay back, wriggling so she could slip off her knickers and pull up her skirt. He leaned over her, hands pressing into the desk either side of her, staring as if she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
She bent her knees, putting her feet wide on the edge of the desk so she was utterly open to his hot, hungry gaze. Wanton. Willing—so willing.
‘Imogen, I—’ Every muscle in his body was clenched hard.
‘Please, Ryan,’ she interrupted, arching towards him. ‘I want you. I love you.’
He moved fast—holding her hips, lifting her to meet him, thrusting long and hard and full. Her cry of delight was utterly instinctive. He gritted his teeth and she saw determination flash in his face, but she held onto him, used her hands and her hips, driving him so there was no chance for either of them to regain control.
The desperate need that had been denied for days was un leashed. Frantic, they surged together again and again. Imogen felt wild freedom calling to her—the primal, almost animal joy that she could only get with him.
‘Harder,’ she begged him unnecessarily.
His eyes had gone cobalt, strain showed in the veins in his neck as he pumped with fast, fierce force.
For one long moment her body went rigid with the unbearable agony of anticipation, and then she collapsed, writhing in ecstasy, crying her satisfaction to him. Locked into her one last time, he, too, shouted, coming hard just after her.
His body crushed hers to the desk as they both lay panting.
‘I knew you were efficient, but…hell!’
She smiled, an all-feminine sense of satisfaction flowing through her.
He must have sensed it, because he propped himself up on one elbow and smiled down at her. ‘I won’t always let you be efficient, you know.’
‘I know. I’m looking forward to it.’ She ran a hand over his rough jaw, saw up close the tiredness darkening his features. ‘You’re missing your family Christmas.’
‘Yeah, but I’ve got some good plans for tomorrow.’
‘Like what?’
‘I’m going to get naked, place chocolate-covered pepper mint creams all over my body and let you eat them off me.’
She giggled. ‘That sounds like a plan. I’m going to spend the day wearing nothing but my new lacy knickers from Santa.’
‘Another fine tra di tion is born.’
She hugged him close, turning her cheek to his. When she opened her eyes she saw all the presents she’d gift-wrapped for him piled against the wall behind his desk.
‘Hey, isn’t that your cousin Jodie’s down jacket? Why didn’t you take it back home with you?’
He lifted his head, looked behind him at the present mountain, and laughed. ‘I made her up.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Just as she’d suspected.
His smiling eyes showed he knew she knew. ‘I just wanted to talk to you. Wanted to get to you the way you were getting to me. Wanted to make it hard for you the way you were making it hard for me.’
‘By getting me to wrap presents?’
‘By making it difficult to wrap presents. And they were, right?’
‘Yes,’ she laughed. ‘That’s outrageous. What about Donna—did you make her up, too?’
‘Actually, she’s real. But she’s about thirty-five now, and has no need for an abacus.’ He laughed and leaned into her some more. ‘There’s more, you know. That I didn’t get a chance to make you wrap.’
‘No?’
‘A broom. A small garden fountain. A rocking horse.’
‘A garden fountain?’
‘Yeah. It was the one thing I thought you couldn’t possibly wrap. But it’s really heavy. I don’t think you could actually lift it, either.’
She ran her hand over his jaw, loving the way his body had hardened again, the way he was slowly moving inside her. ‘You’re crazy.’
‘Yeah,’ he grinned. ‘Crazy about you.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. Or me.’
‘Sometimes trust takes time,’ he murmured. ‘You needed longer, and that’s okay because I wanted for ever.’
He drew their foreplay out, making her suffer with his slowness this time. Teasing until they were both beyond teasing and all too serious and truly intense. She spoke his name, showing she loved him simply in the way she said it.
She floated with the feeling of tender, complete relief as she cradled him. The desk was hard under her back, but she wouldn’t have had him move for all the world—in her heart she’d never felt more comfortable.
He toyed with the ribbon that still hung around her neck. ‘I knew the minute I stepped on the plane that I’d made the wrong decision. I shouldn’t have gone. Should have stayed here and sorted it out with you sooner. But as it turns out there was something I needed to get from home.’ He followed the ribbon down to the ring. ‘You know what I want to ask you, don’t you?’
She needed to breathe—had gone all giddy. ‘Too soon.’
‘No,’ he whispered. ‘It happens. Let me tell you about this ring. It belonged to my grand mother. My grand fa ther proposed the day they met. She said he railroaded her into everything. He bought it with every cent of his savings. Said there was nothing worth investing in more than his relationship with her. So they married. And together they worked in the local store—she behind the counter, he did deliveries on his bike. Eventually they got the opportunity to buy into it, and then they ex panded and the empire was born. They were together for fifty-two years, until she died. He died not long after her. He always said I was like him—going on instinct, determinedly doing my own thing. And he told me that when it happened it would be simple—for me at least. He wanted me to pass this on to the one woman I knew was for me.’
The diamond caught the light as he held it between them.
‘I tried to call you from the plane, but I kept getting a no signal message from your phone company. So I called my folks, and they and an uncle, and my brother, both my nosy parker sisters and an even nosier cousin, drove all the way to the airport to meet me and bring me this ring. We had an hour together in the club lounge before I turned around and got on another pla
ne.’ He groaned. ‘We’re just normal people, Imogen. They said to say hi.’
Imogen’s eyes filled. He reached into his desk drawer, pulled out scissors, cut the ribbon round her neck and pulled the ring free of it.
‘You know you can choose which hand you want to wear this on, but there’s something you need to understand. You’re right. I’m decisive, and I’m very determined. I work on instinct and I’m rarely wrong. In this case I know I’m not wrong. I have never, ever felt this way about anyone. I know you’re the woman I’m meant to spend my life with. You’re the woman I’m meant to make babies with. You’re the woman I’m going to marry.’
‘I thought you said you were going to ask me.’
He held the ring up. ‘I’m asking you now.’ His eyes shone with love, compelling, word lessly asking.
She held out her hand, the left one, and he took it gently in his. As the ring slid down, so did her tears.
He caught them with tender kisses. ‘It can be two months or two years from now if you want. But when you’re ready, you’ll marry me.’
Eyes closed, lost to sensation, lost to love, she in stinctively nodded. ‘Absolutely I will marry you.’
It was one year. It was Christmas Eve. It was fabulous.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6931-0
’TIS THE SEASON
Copyright © 2010 by Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:
SNOWBOUND WITH THE BILLIONAIRE
Copyright © 2009 by Carole Mortimer
TWINS FOR CHRISTMAS
Copyright © 2009 by Alison Roberts
THE MILLIONAIRE’S MISTLETOE MISTRESS
Copyright © 2009 by Natalie Anderson
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada, M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
For questions and comments about the quality of this book please contact us at [email protected].
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com
'Tis the Season Page 26