It Started at Christmas...

by Janice Lynn

  That made two of them. Her willpower was in a shambles. How she’d gone from teasing to totally turned on she wasn’t sure, but she had. So much so that she wiggled against the seat again, causing his hand to shift on her thigh and make goose bumps on her skin.

  “I have no doubt that you’ve never failed a test.” She placed her free hand over his and guided him beneath the hem of her dress.

  “There’s always a first.”

  “Not this time,” she told him, gliding his hand between her thighs to where she blazed hotly, and not from the car’s seat warmers.

  “You sure about that?”

  “Positive,” she assured him, “because if you lose your willpower we have to stop, and where’s the fun in that?”

  “Fun being where my fingers are?”

  “Exactly.” She shifted, bringing him into full contact with those itty-bitty panties she’d put on earlier.

  “If I get pulled over for speeding to get us home quicker?”

  She squeezed her buttocks together in a Kegel, pressing against his fingers. “Not sure how you’d explain to the officer why you were going so fast.”

  “I’d tell him to look in my passenger seat and he’d understand just fine.”

  For all his talk, the speedometer stayed at the speed limit, which she kind of liked. Safety mattered. Even when your passenger was seducing you. That he wasn’t gunning the engine of the sports car surprised her, though. She’d have bet money he’d be a speed demon behind the wheel, but she couldn’t think of a time she’d been in his car when he’d been going too fast or pulling any careless stunts.

  His thumb brushed lightly over her pubic bone and she moaned, forgetting all about safety.

  She gripped his thigh and squeezed. “That feels good.”

  “I couldn’t tell.”

  He didn’t have to look at her for her to know he was smiling, pleased with her body’s reaction to his touch. She heard his pleasure in his voice, felt it in the way his fingers toyed over the barely-there satin material.

  “Might be time to turn that seater off since you’re already steamy down there.”

  She tilted her hips toward his touch. “Might be, but I’m sure I could get hotter.”

  “You think?”

  “I’m hoping.”

  He slowed the car and turned into her street. “Thank God we’re almost there.”

  “Not even close,” she teased. “But if you move those fingers just so, maybe.”

  “McKenzie.” Her name was torn from deep within him. “You’re killing me.”

  His fingers said otherwise. His fingers were little adventurers, exploring uncharted territory, staking claims in the wake of his touch.

  She closed her eyes, holding on to his thigh, spreading her legs to give him better access. Gentle back-and-forth movements created cataclysmic earthquakes throughout her body.

  Yearnings to rip off her clothes hit her. To rip off his clothes, right then, in the car, to give him free access to touch with no material in the way.

  Why couldn’t she?

  Why couldn’t she take her panties off?

  That wasn’t something she’d ever done before, but she was an adult, a responsible one usually. If she wanted to suddenly go commando, she could do that, right?

  She hiked her dress up around her thighs, looped her fingers through the tiny straps of her thong and wiggled them down her legs. She probably looked ridiculous raised up off the seat to remove them, but who cared?

  His eyes were on the road and now there was nothing to keep him from touching her. Not her panties, but her, as in skin to skin. She needed that. His skin against hers. His touch on her aching flesh.

  “If I were a stronger man, I’d make you wait until we’re at least in your driveway before I touched you for real,” he warned.

  “Good thing you’re not a stronger man,” she replied as his fingers slid home. “Very good thing.”

  His touch was light, just gentle strokes teasing her.

  “This isn’t fair,” he complained.

  “Life isn’t fair. Get over it.”

  He laughed. “No sympathy from you.”

  “Hey, you’ve been trying to get in my pants for weeks now. Why would I feel sympathetic toward you when you’re getting what you want?”

  “I want more than to get into your pants, McKenzie. I want a relationship with you.”

  “Here’s a news flash for you—if you’re in my pants, you’re in a relationship with me.”

  “For thirty days or less?” he asked.

  “I’m not putting a time limit on our relationship. Move your fingers faster.”

  “Not until you promise you’ll give me two months.”

  Two months? Why two months?

  “This isn’t as business negotiation.”

  “True,” he agreed. “But if you want my fingers to do more than skim the surface, you’ll give me your word. I want two months. Not a day less. Not a day more.”

  She moved against him, trying to get the friction she craved. “Two months?”

  “Two months.”

  Ugh. He was pushing for more than she usually gave. It figured. Then again, what was two months in the grand scheme of life?

  “I don’t have to agree to this to get what I want. It’s not as if you’re going to turn down what I’m offering.”

  He chuckled. “Confident, aren’t you?”

  “Of that? Yes, you’re a man.”

  “I won’t be used for sex, McKenzie.”

  “Isn’t that usually the woman’s line?”

  “These are modern times and you’re a modern woman.”

  She arched further against his hand. “Not that modern.”

  “Two months?” He teased her most sensitive area with the slightest flick of his finger.

  “Fine,” she sighed, moving against his fingers. “You can have two months, but I won’t promise a day more.”

  He turned into her driveway, amazing since she hadn’t even realized they were that close to her house. Hadn’t even recalled that they were in her street or even on the planet, for that matter. All that existed was the two of them inside his car.

  He killed the engine, turned toward her, and moved her thighs apart, touching where she ached.

  “I knew you could find it if you tried hard enough,” she teased breathlessly.

  “Oh, I’m definitely hard enough.”

  She reached out and touched him again. He was right. He definitely was.

  Lance leaned toward her, taking her mouth as his fingers worked magic. Sparkles and rainbows and shooting-stars magic.

  Her inner thighs clenched. Her eyes squeezed tight then opened wide.

  Her body melted in all the right places in a powerful orgasmic wave that turned her body inside out. Or it felt like it at any rate.

  Sucking in much-needed oxygen, she met his smug gaze.

  Two months might not be nearly enough time if that was a preview of the main event.

  * * *

  Bodies tangled, Lance and McKenzie tossed a half dozen pillows off her bed and onto the floor with their free hands. A trail of clothes marked their path from the front door to her bed. His. Hers.

  “I want you, McKenzie,” he breathed, his hand at the base of her neck as his mouth took hers again. Long and hard, he kissed her.

  McKenzie was positive she’d never been kissed so possessively, never been kissed so completely.

  Even when his mouth lifted from hers, she didn’t answer him verbally. She wasn’t sure her vocal cords would even work if she tried.

  Her hands worked, though. As did her lips. She touched Lance and kissed him, exploring the strong lines of his neck, his shoulders, his chest.

 
“So beautiful.”

  Had she said that or had he? She wasn’t sure.

  His hands were on her breasts, cupping her bottom, everywhere, and yet not nearly all the places she wanted to be touched.

  “More,” she cried, desperation filling her when it was him she wanted, him she needed. “Please. Now, Lance. I want you now.”

  Maybe her desperation was evident in her tone or maybe he was just as desperate because he pushed her back onto the bed, put on the condom he’d tossed onto the nightstand when they’d first entered the room, then crawled above her.

  With his knee he spread her legs, positioned himself above her. “You’re sure?”

  What was he waiting for?

  She arched her hips, taking him inside, then moaned at the sweet stretching pleasure.

  That was what she had been wanting for a very long time.

  * * *

  Breathing hard, Lance fell back against the bed.

  She’d been amazing.

  Beautiful, fun, witty, sexy, actively participating in their mating, urging him on, telling him what she wanted, what she needed. Showing him.

  The chemistry between them was unparalleled. Never had he experienced anything like what they’d just shared.

  “That. Was. Amazing.”

  He grinned at her punctuated words. “My thoughts exactly.”

  He turned onto his side and stared at her. “You are amazing.”

  “Ha. Wasn’t me.”

  “I think it was.”

  “Right. I assure you that I’ve been there every time I’ve had sex in the past and it’s never been like that so it must be you who is amazing.”

  His insides warmed at her admission. “For the record, it’s never been like that for me either.”

  Her expression pinched and she scooted up on a pillow. Shaking her head, she went for the sheet that was bunched up at the foot of the bed. When she’d covered her beautiful body, she turned to him.

  “I don’t really think I need to say this, not with a man like you, but I’m going to, just in case. I don’t want there to be any confusion.”

  He knew from her words, her tone what she was going to say. He was glad. He felt the same, but hearing the reminder was good and perhaps needed.

  “Despite your amazing orgasm-giving ability, I’m not looking for a long-term relationship.”

  “Me, either,” he assured her, trying not to let his ego get too big at her praise.

  “I guess that’s crude of me, to talk about the end when we’re still in bed and I feel wonderful. But we work together so we need to be clear about the boundaries of our relationship so work doesn’t become messy.”

  The thought of ending things with her, not being able to touch her, kiss her, make love to her and experience what they’d just shared, because it might make things messy, wasn’t a pleasant thought, but it should be.

  He didn’t want marriage or kids, didn’t want that responsibility, that weight on his heart, that replacing of Shelby. He’d made a vow to his first love. He owed Shelby his heart and more. McKenzie was right to remind them both of the guidelines they’d agreed to. Setting an end date and clear boundaries was a smart move.

  Two months for them to enjoy each other’s bodies, then move on with their lives. Him with his main focus being his career and charity work in memory of Shelby. McKenzie with her career and her running and whatever else filled her life with joy.

  Two months and they’d call it quits. That sounded just right to him.

  * * *

  Staring at the oh-so-hot naked man in her bed, McKenzie hugged the sheet tighter to her.

  Please agree with me, she silently pleaded.

  She’d just had the best sex of her life and couldn’t fathom the idea of not repeating the magic she’d just experienced.

  But she would do just that if he didn’t agree.

  Already she was risking too much. That’s why she usually ended her relationships after a month, because she didn’t want pesky emotional attachments that might lead her down the paths her parents had taken. She didn’t want a future that held multiple marriages and multiple divorces like her father. Neither did she want the whiny, miserable, man-needing life her mother led.

  Bachelorettehood was the life for her, all the way.

  Hearing Lance agree that they’d end things in two months was important, necessary for them to carry on. She simply wouldn’t risk anything longer. Already she was giving him double the time she usually spent with a man.

  He deserved double time.

  Triple time.

  Forever.

  No, not forever. She didn’t do forever. Two months, then adios, even if he was an orgasm-giving god.

  “Promise me,” she urged, desperately needing the words.

  “Two months sounds perfect.”

  Relief flooded her, because she hadn’t wanted to tell him to leave. For two months she didn’t have to.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “YOU CAN’T BE working the entire Christmas holiday,” Lance insisted, following McKenzie to the hospital cafeteria table where she put down her food tray.

  She’d gotten a chicken salad croissant and a side salad. He’d gone for a more hearty meal, but had ended up grabbing a croissant as well.

  Sitting down at the table, she glanced at him. “I’m not, but I am working at the clinic half a day on Christmas Eve and then working half a day in the emergency room on Christmas morning.” She’d done so the past few years so the regular emergency room doctor could have the morning off with his kids and she liked filling in from time to time so she kept her emergency care skills sharp.

  “When will you celebrate with your parents?”

  Bile rose up in her throat at the thought of introducing Lance to her parents. Her mother would probably hit on him and her dad would probably ask him what he thought about wife number five’s plastic surgeon–constructed chest. No, she wouldn’t be taking Lance home for the holidays.

  Actually, when she’d talked to her mother a few days ago, Violet had said she was going to her sister’s for a few days and spending the holidays with her family. She hadn’t mentioned Beau, the latest live-in boyfriend, so McKenzie wasn’t sure if Beau was going, staying or if he was history. Her father had planned a ski trip in Vermont with his bride and a group of their friends.

  “We don’t celebrate the holidays like other folks.”

  “How’s that?”

  “We’ll meet up at some point in January and have dinner or something. We just don’t make a big deal of the day. It’s way too commercialized anyway, you know.”

  “This coming from the winner of the best costume in the Christmas parade.”

  She couldn’t quite keep her smile hidden. The call from the mayor telling her she’d won the award had surprised her, as had the Christmas ornament he’d dropped by the clinic to commemorate her honor.

  “Cecilia is the one who should get all the kudos for that. She put my costume together.”

  “But you wore it so well,” he assured her, giving her a once-over. “You wear that lab coat nicely, too, Dr. Sanders.”

  She arched a brow at him and gave a mock-condescending shake of her head. “You hitting on me, Dr. Spencer?”

  “With a baseball bat.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Men, always talking about size.”

  He laughed.

  “Speaking of size, you should see the tree my mother put up in her family room. I swear she searches for the biggest one on the lot every year and that’s her sole criterion for buying.”

  “She puts up a live tree?”

  “She puts up a slew of trees. All are artificial except the one in the family room. There, she goes all out and insists on a real tree. There’s a row of everg
reens behind my parents’ house, marking Christmases past.”

  McKenzie couldn’t even recall the last Christmas tree her mother had put up. Maybe a skimpy tinsel one that had seen better days when McKenzie had still been young enough to ask about Santa and Christmas. Violet had never been much of a holiday person, especially not after McKenzie’s father had left.

  “She wants to meet you.”

  McKenzie’s brow arched. “Why would she want to do that? For that matter, how does she even know about me?”

  “She asked if I was seeing anyone and I told her about you.”

  Talking to his mother about her just seemed wrong.

  “She shouldn’t meet me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Mothers should only meet significant others who have the potential for being around for a while.”

  “Look, telling her I was dating someone was easier than showing up and there being some single female there eager to meet me and plan our future together. It’s really not as big a deal as you’re making it for you to come to my parents’ at Christmas.”

  Maybe not to him, but the thought of meeting his family was a very big deal to her. She didn’t meet families. That implied things that just weren’t true.

  “Obviously you haven’t been paying attention,” she pointed out. “I’ll be here on Christmas, working.”

  “The shifts are abbreviated on the holidays. What time will you get off?”

  “Oh, no. You’re not trapping me that way.”

  He gave her an innocent look. “What way?”

  “The way that whatever time I say you’re going to say, ‘Oh, that’s perfect. Just come on over when you’re finished.’”

  “Hey, McKenzie?”

  She frowned at him, knowing what he was about to say.

  “The time you get off from the emergency room is perfect. Just come to my parents’ house when you’re finished.”

  “Meeting parents implies a commitment you and I don’t have,” she reiterated.

  “There’ll be lots of people there. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins. People even I’ve never met. It’s a party. You’ll have fun and it’s really not a big deal, except it saves me from my mother trying to set me up with every single nonrelated female she knows.”