Another Snowbound Christmas

by Veronica Tower

  Ron turned onto Kara's street, which meant that soon they'd be treating the neighbors to their first public fight if they couldn't get things under control in the next few seconds. “You think I want someone else?” Ron shouted. His face looked dark under the passing light of the street lamps as if he were really, truly angry with her. “Isn't this whole fight over me wanting you too much?”

  “No, Ron,” Kara corrected him. “This fight is over...” she trailed off. What was this fight over? It had started off as a complaint about Ron's insensitive timing when he wanted to have sex, but it had morphed a couple of times since then.

  Ron pulled up into her driveway and turned off his car. His hands were literally trembling with agitation and he had to grab the steering wheel to cover the problem. She knew him well enough to know that he was really struggling to get control of his temper. “Look,” he said. “It's Christmas Eve and we just had our usual very bad time at my parents’ house. Let's not let that spoil our night. This should be the best time of the year for us.”

  Kara wanted to stop fighting, too, but she didn't want to just push the argument away and pretend it hadn't happened. “We started fighting before we ever got to your parents’ house,” she said.

  “I know,” Ron agreed. “But that was really a fight about my parents, too.”

  Kara tentatively reached out and touched him on the shoulder. At least they had stopped shouting at each other. “No, it wasn't,” she said trying very hard to keep her voice calm and gentle. “We were fighting over the shape...” She hesitated, looking for a better word. “...the texture...” No, that wasn't it either. She tried a third time. “We were fighting over the substance of our relationship.”

  Ron wasn't looking at her. He was staring at the windshield where the snow slowly accumulated on top of the glass. “So what you're telling me is that you don't want to have sex anymore.”

  A sense of exasperation surged through Kara's body. “Of course not, you idiot. I'm saying I want us to work on strengthening the other parts of our relationship.”

  Ron took a deep breath. He still wasn't looking at her. “I can do that,” he agreed, but to Kara's ears, his voice sounded strained and unnatural, perhaps even grudging.

  It depressed her. Maybe one year really was as far as this relationship was going to go.

  Not nearly ready to give up on him yet, she unfastened her seat belt and then leaned forward to kiss Ron on the cheek. “Thanks,” she murmured.

  Ron accepted the kiss like a statue, hands still tightly gripping the steering wheel as he stared through the windshield. “I do love you, Kara,” he whispered.

  She patted him on the shoulder again. “I know you do, Ron,” she said. “I just need you to find some new ways to express that love. I need you to find some new ways for us to grow together.”

  Ron sighed and his broad shoulders relaxed. He dropped his hands off the steering wheel, his right hand finding hers, covering it, and squeezing lightly. “I'll do my best,” he promised.

  Normally she would have expected him to kiss her when he said something like that, but this time Ron didn't do that. He didn't even look at her, which took away the reassurance Kara should have felt at his words. Did he think she was telling him she didn't want him to kiss her anymore? A feeling of dread, which she hadn't realized was taking shape in her heart, suddenly became noticeable.

  Ron opened the car door. “It's two hours until midnight Mass,” he said. “I was kind of hoping we were going to be making love around then, but since that obviously isn't going to happen, do you want to go ahead and get a drink and then drive out and meet my family?”

  Kara cringed. As a Baptist, she found the idea of attending a Catholic Mass particularly distasteful. It just wasn't something Baptists did. Add into that the presence of Ron's family—particularly Hanna—and she just couldn't stomach the notion. “We're home,” she said. “Wouldn't it be better to just be in for the night? We can watch a Christmas movie or something.”

  Ron nodded in agreement, but she knew him well enough to be certain he was unhappy with her plan. “I guess I'll go to Mass tomorrow morning while you're at Church with your family,” he said.

  Kara bristled. Ron had agreed to go to church with the Brennan clan tomorrow. If he didn't go that would provide even more ammunition for Mama in her never-ending campaign against him. But just as she was about to protest his decision, she remembered that she, too, had agreed to go to church—or Mass as the Catholics called it—with Ron's family. As she really didn't want to follow through on that promise, she let the matter drop.

  They got out of the car and went in the house. Ron got them a couple of beers while Kara surfed the cable channels before settling on A Christmas Carol: The Musical.

  Ron sat beside her on the couch, stiff and unnatural with his arm across her shoulders but his body not actually snuggled against her.

  When the movie ended, they got undressed and went to bed, settling for a chaste kiss on the lips and the hope of a Merry Christmas.

  They didn't make love, which might have been what Kara had asked for but definitely wasn't what she wanted.

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  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  December 25, Christmas Day

  When Kara woke up Christmas morning, Ron was already out of bed. His desertion depressed her, even though it was part of his typical routine now that they lived together. Kara was not lazy, but Ron, with the energy of the young, liked to get up before six each day and work out—an aggressive series of pushups and sit ups followed by an early morning jog. She didn't know why, but she had expected him to forego the routine this morning like he used to when he'd come over before he moved in. Christmas wasn't just another day. It ought to be more special than this.

  She lay in bed for several minutes wondering what had gone wrong between them. Was it really possible that she was as controlling as he suggested or was their problem rooted in their very different personalities and the significant gap in their ages? Ron was only twenty-six after all, and Kara had turned forty-one in November.

  She smiled unconsciously as she thought back to her birthday celebration. After the mandatory appearance at her sister's house for dinner, cake and the birthday song, Ron had brought her back to the house for a far more personal celebration. He'd encouraged her to model his presents for him—jewelry, a nightgown and lingerie. She'd always been highly inhibited when it came to her body—preferring long skirts or dresses to tight fitting jeans and never ever exhibiting herself. But Ron had a gift for making her relax enough to enjoy herself and press her boundaries. He'd made her feel like a supermodel strutting up the runway—not a self-conscious forty-one year old past her prime. He was a handsome guy. He didn't have to be with her! Why was it bothering her so much lately that he always seemed to want her so badly?

  It hadn't bothered her on her birthday!

  Kara stretched languorously beneath the covers as she remembered Ron surprising her with a second cake. They'd stretched back on a comforter he'd spread on the floor like a picnic blanket and he'd fed her bites, which always seemed to crumble and spill over other parts of her body. He'd ruined the new nightgown but it had been worth it to feel him nibbling little crumbs of cake off her yearning flesh or licking sticky bits of icing off her body. He could get her wet with just a look or a sly knowing smile, but when he actually started to use his hands and lips on her...

  She slipped her hands down her stomach to her groin and let her fingers tease her flesh around her pussy, coaxing her body to even greater arousal.

  Maybe she was making too big a deal out of Ron's over-active sex drive. It wasn't like she didn't like sex. Ron hadn't gotten the problem with Bobby right. At least until that last visit, they'd had a decent amount of sex—nowhere near as much as she had with Ron but it had certainly been an active sex life. No, the problem with Bobby was that he was the very definition of a selfish lover—interested solely in his own
ejaculation and tiring immediately afterwards.

  Ron, her fingers reminded her, had always been interested in securing her pleasure before, during and after his own. He almost literally got off on making her come. And unlike Bobby, he was young enough to always be good for a second round.

  She eased her fingertips up against her labia, squeezing the soft flesh with pressure from either side. Her insides tingled in response, but the feeling was nowhere near as intense as what Ron did to her. She wanted to feel Ron's fingers down here, or better yet his talented tongue, and she wanted him strongly enough to admit that she'd been...well wrong was too strong a word, but she'd certainly been overly enthusiastic in her criticism of his ardent desire for her body. And she knew the perfect way to apologize.

  She got out of bed and crossed the floor to her bathroom, swallowing down on a surge of irritation when she saw he'd left the medicine cabinet door open yet again. Her boyfriend was very messy and he didn't seem to be getting better in his practices. Kara had no interest in playing mother to him, picking up after him when he dropped his clothes on the floor or failed to get his clean laundry into the drawers and closet. Heck, sometimes he dropped his clothes on the floor when the hamper was literally only three feet away. A little toss would get the clothes into it but he couldn't be bothered to do it.

  But this was not the time to obsess about these failings. She did her business on the toilet and then quickly slipped into the shower because it grossed her out to think of Ron going down on her when she wasn't really clean. He'd have done it, of course. He had done it many times in the past. But she preferred to get clean first.

  So she hurried through her shower, taking no time at all to primp herself further for Ron's touch, and then toweled off and slipped on one of her sexier nightgowns. She loved the feel of the silk on her breasts and ass and while it rode a little higher on her thighs than she was truly comfortable with, Ron had always seemed to appreciate that fact.

  She started downstairs to wait for him to return from his run, but suffered a momentary crisis in self-confidence. What if he was still mad about last night? What if one of her sisters showed up unannounced? It was Christmas morning after all. Anything could happen!

  She grabbed a robe to go over top of the nightgown and went downstairs.

  Ron had not gone running. Instead he stood barefoot in the cold kitchen with only a pair of pajama bottoms covering his athletic body while he cooked breakfast for them. Eggs, pancakes, sausage—the evidence of his efforts lay scattered across the countertops all around him while half her cabinet doors hung open. At least he'd closed the refrigerator, but then, it pretty much shut itself.

  “Merry Christmas!” Ron greeted her. “I'm sorry to see you so early. I'd hoped to bring this up to you in bed.”

  Which would have just left this mess setting out even later, Kara thought. She failed to suppress a sigh and started closing cabinet doors.

  Ron stopped cooking and offered her a peck on the cheek, which Kara was no longer in the mood to accept gracefully. “Hey,” he said, “Merry Christmas, beautiful.”

  “Merry Christmas, Ron,” Kara said without enthusiasm as she began to close up the container of eggs. Why he couldn't take out what he needed and put the container right back in the refrigerator, she didn't understand. She hadn't visited his apartment very often when he'd had his own place—Ron was smart enough to know that she'd be off put by his mess—but even so she'd found eggs out over there that had clearly sat on the counter since before he'd left for work that morning. That kind of carelessness offended Kara on all sorts of levels.

  Ron was not through trying to make the morning special. “Hey, let me get that. You sit down and take it easy this morning.”

  He flipped hash browns in the skillet then darted across the kitchen to fetch two plates. Of course, there wasn't any place for him to set them on the counters.

  Kara picked up a loaf of bread to make room for him, her eyes darting to the toaster where a merry red glow announced it was full and working.

  “Thanks,” Ron said as he set the plates down into the space she had just made. “Why don't you sit down now? It's Christmas. This is part of my present to you.”

  Making another mess for me to clean up? Kara wondered. What kind of present is that?

  Ron stared at her, his happy, hopeful expression rapidly dissipating.

  Kara decided to make a special effort to save the holiday, although she really didn't feel like celebrating anymore. “Let me just get this first,” she said as she twisted the top of the bag of bread and secured it with the little plastic fastener.

  Ron started filling the top plate—eggs sunny-side up, two links of sausage, pancakes, hash browns and toast. It was way too much for her to eat—more waste to be disposed of.

  When he finished filling the plate he carried it over to the kitchen table and set it down near a tray, which he had obviously intended to use to bring the breakfast upstairs to her.

  Kara sighed again. She felt overwhelmed by all the mess and clutter in her kitchen.

  “Come on,” Ron coaxed her. “Come relax for a couple of minutes.”

  Kara forced herself to join him at the table.

  Ron pulled the chair out for her as she approached and scooted it in beneath her as she sat. A glass of orange juice already sat on the tray together with her tableware.

  Feeling self-conscious and anything but comfortable, Kara picked up her fork and sampled the eggs.

  Ron's hands slipped on to her shoulders and began to massage her tight muscles, his strong fingers slowly working their magic.

  Kara reluctantly leaned back against him and admitted that what he was doing felt good. “That's nice,” she whispered.

  “I'm glad,” Ron whispered back.

  His thumbs began to knead her shoulders, pressing against the tight cords so that a moan of pleasure escaped her lips. She slipped down a bit in her chair, so that the back of her neck rested on the top of her chair and her head pressed against Ron's stomach. Her robe and nightgown hiked up a little bit beneath the table. “That feels really nice,” she corrected herself.

  Above her, Ron smiled. His hands shifted position ever so slightly so he could work at loosening the muscles at the base of Kara's neck. “Why are you so tense this morning?” he teased. “We're definitely going to have to do something about this.”

  The fork slipped out of Kara's hand and clattered to the floor. She started to sit up, but Ron's strong hands caught her by the shoulder and insisted she lay back in her chair again. “We'll get it later,” he told her. “You just relax now. If you like, I'll feed you later.”

  His hands went back to working on her shoulders and they felt wonderful. When had she become so tense? Kara knew that her younger sister had always thought she was uptight but that was a lot different than being this tense. She'd just gotten up! What did she have to be stressed about?

  Kara closed her eyes and relaxed back against Ron. She fully expected his hands to begin to stray soon, reaching down to feel her breasts, which really wouldn't be bad, even if it meant him stopping what he was doing to her shoulders.

  Ron didn't do that however. He patiently worked his way across her shoulders and began again to gently knead the bunched muscles in her neck.

  “We don't do things like this enough anymore,” Ron whispered. “We're always running around. You know what would be nice? We should take the morning off and pamper ourselves. We'll stretch out on the bed and I'll give you a very proper massage with hot oil to get your flesh gleaming and your muscles stretching out.”

  “We can't do that this morning,” Kara whispered even though she adored the idea. She couldn't believe how wonderful Ron's fingers were making her feel, and now that her muscles were actually beginning to limber up and relax, she couldn't believe how incredibly tired she felt either. Hadn't she just finished a night's sleep?

  “You've been working too hard,” Ron reminded her. It was as if he could read her thoughts. “And the hol
idays are always stressful. I know it's not easy visiting my family and today isn't going to be a stroll in the park either.”

  Kara started to sit up to defend her family, but just as she did, Ron dug his thumbs deep into a knot of muscle tissue at the base of her neck and she slumped down into the chair again. She was really starting to feel good. It was as if the blood hadn't been circulating in her body, but now it was flowing again, down from her shoulders past her hips through her thighs and down toward her feet. With the renewed blood flow, a pleasant heat transfused her body and congregated between her legs and in her breasts so that her nipples swelled pleasantly.

  “Let's not be in a rush this morning,” Ron coaxed her. “Let me carry you upstairs, slip off your robe and your nightgown and give you a little of the personal attention you so richly deserve.”

  She did so love the sound of his voice, so much so that she almost didn't notice that he'd stopped massaging her shoulders and gently eased the chair out from the table. His strong arms slipped behind and beneath her so that he could lift Kara out of her chair and cradle her against his chest. There were times she would have felt ridiculous letting Ron carry her like this, but not now. Her fingers stroked the bare flesh of his pectoral muscles just above the nipple. His skin was very smooth—not hairy at all.

  His lips touched hers and she lifted her face to tighten the seal they formed between their mouths.

  His tongue slipped forward to dance with hers and-

  The smoke alarm went off shattering Kara's mood even as it made her painfully cognizant of the black smoke billowing out of the frying pan on the stove. Ron hadn't turned the burner off and his eggs—or something—were the next best thing to on fire in the pan.

  Ron set her down and ran to the stove, scooping the pan up in his hand and dashing it to the sink where he flipped on the cold water. He held the pan under the faucet for a few seconds before dropping the pan into the sink and hurrying to turn off the rest of the stove top burners. Other than her plate on the table, the breakfast was ruined.