“To my sister’s in Lake Bluff.” He looks up and down the avenue. “But the drive is going to be so fucking slow.”
“Do you have to go?” Inside, I’m shrieking for Christmas joy that he’s not going on a date. Visions of sugarplums and his naked body dance in my head.
“I should. It’s my family’s Christmas party, and I skipped it last year.”
I nod, focusing on the sidewalk again as my sexy visions go poof and vanish. Unless … “You know, your sister probably wouldn’t want you on the road in this blizzard.”
“Oh no?”
“Definitely not. In fact,” I tell him as we reach our building, “I think you might want to call her and tell her not to expect you.”
“Really.” He sounds amused as we make our way to the elevator.
“Of course!” I punch the button. “I mean, no pressure or anything, but I know I wouldn’t want my brother on the road tonight.”
The elevator doors open. It’s empty.
“Ah. Very sweet of you.” He lets me enter first, then hits twenty.
“It’s just too dangerous,” I insist as the doors close. “You could get in trouble out there.”
He leans back against the wall and looks over at me, his expression smoldering. “I could get in trouble right here.”
Chapter 4
Michael
What the hell am I doing flirting with this girl (who is clearly going through a breakup) instead of being with my family (who are going to kill me for this) and wondering if her tree isn’t the only thing we’re going to get erect tonight?
I never think like this. I’m a logical guy who makes logical choices. I don’t walk girls to get tree stands in the middle of a blizzard, no matter how red their noses get.
“You know, they say that decorating a tree is not something you should do alone,” Harlow says as we reach her door.
“Who says?”
“Everyone.”
“Is that so?”
She nods. “It’s the Christmas law. I heard about it on the internet and you know that everything you read there is true.”
“I would hate the break the Christmas law.”
Harlow’s brown eyes sparkle as if I just gave her the best present in the world. “Really?”
“Under one condition …”
“Name it.”
She agreed to that way too quickly. My mind wanders a bit before I remember what I wanted to say. “We don’t mention your shitty ex one more time tonight.”
She extends her hand, and I take it. “You got yourself a deal.”
We enter the apartment, tree still standing in the corner, thank God, and get to work. Harlow puts some cheesy Hallmark movie on the television and then brings in a mug of hot chocolate. “Here, it’s also law that we have to drink this.”
“This is a law I don’t mind.” I have a feeling her laws are only going to get more numerous as the night wears on, but I have a few laws I hope to enact as well. I’m such a dick. I have to stop my mind from going down this road each time she looks at me.
But she’s so damn cute. When we got back, she put on a pair of way-too-fucking-short shorts, a tank top (as if it’s not ten degrees and snowing right now), and tortoise shell glasses. She’s got that hot-for-teacher vibe going on right now and I’m dying.
I take a sip and it’s hot, but it’s not hot chocolate. “What the hell is in this?” I ask.
“Whipped Vodka, you don’t need the whip cream when you have it in alcohol flavor.”
“You know, drinking and tree trimming is probably a bad idea.”
She smiles. “Are you worried that you’ll get into trouble, Michael?”
“I’m worried you’re what’s going to be trouble.”
“Well, I’ve been on the nice list for a long time and it’s gotten me here … maybe trouble isn’t so bad.” Harlow bites her lower lip before bringing the mug up to her mouth. She takes a slow sip, watching me over the rim and my cock goes hard.
“Are you flirting with me?”
She sets the mug aside and sidles closer. “Maybe.”
“I think you are and I think you want me to kiss you,” I challenge her. I love when a woman is assertive and it’s clear that Harlow is testing her boundaries. She’s about to find out that there are some games I won’t lose. Enjoying the surprised—and pleased—look on her face, I place my mug on the coffee table next to hers.
“And what if I do?” she teases.
I raise my gaze upward, and feel a sly grin form on my lips because right above her head is mistletoe. While I don’t need the excuse, I’m happy to use it to my benefit. “Well, sweetheart, look up.”
“Huh?” Harlow tilts her head back and I take that opportunity to grab her and pull her to my chest.
She lets out a squeak in surprise and her hands grip my arms. “What does the law say about mistletoe?” I ask.
Her tongue darts across her lips, and I don’t wait for her reply, taking that as invitation enough, and I kiss her. She tastes of chocolate, vodka, and sweetness. I’ve never been so attracted to a woman this quickly, but Harlow is like a siren song, one I want to answer.
At first, the kiss is slow and tentative, but then she moans and all of that shatters. Her lips part and I delve into the heat of her mouth. She kisses me back just as rough. I love when a woman doesn’t hold back. Her hands drift up to my neck, holding me to her.
I slide my palms beneath her tank and up her bare back. Her skin is soft and warm and—
CRASH!
Harlow squeals and we jump apart as the tree hits the floor.
“Damn that tree,” she says breathlessly. “It’s evil and it hates me.”
I have to laugh at her indignant face. “It’s just a tree. How could it be evil?”
She arches a brow. “Clearly you have never heard of a Whomping Willow.”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t read Harry Potter.”
“Why not?” I manage to right the tree and prop it in the corner again.
“Because then I won’t know if we can become friends.”
I give her a look over my shoulder. “Is that what we’re doing tonight? Becoming friends?”
“Of course. What else would we be doing?” Harlow pushes her glasses up her nose and gives me her best innocent little lamb face, all the while standing there in those fucking tiny little shorts.
I’m not sure she’s wearing a bra either. If she is, it isn’t doing much to hide the fact that her nipples are hard. It’s hell trying not to stare at her chest.
I slip out of my suit jacket, tossing it on the couch. “Well, my friend, why don’t you help me get this tree in the stand? Maybe all it wants is a permanent home. Some nice decorations. A drink of water.”
“I have to water the tree?”
“Yes, Harlow. You do.” Shaking my head, I grab the box with the stand in it from the drugstore bag. “It’s a good thing I’m here.”
“I’ll drink to that,” she says, picking up her mug again and taking a sip. “Okay, tell me what to do to help.”
We manage to get the tree into the stand, the bolts secured, and some water in the base. Harlow doesn’t have a tree skirt, but she does have a red fleece blanket she drapes around the base of the tree, and once it’s in place, she stands back and claps her hands. “I love it! Let’s decorate!”
I glance out the window. The snow is falling even heavier now, and if I stay even one more minute, I will never make it to my sister’s house. She’ll make me pay too—my entire family will. Nobody can work a guilt trip like my mother, and my sister can hold onto a grudge like it’s keeping her alive. They have the ability to make my life very unpleasant.
But when I look at Harlow again, she’s standing on tiptoe to hang an ornament high up on the tree, her bare legs beckoning. My cock stirs again in my pants.
Yeah, fuck my family Christmas. There’s something I want to unwrap right here.
“Hey,
I need to make a phone call real quick,” I tell her.
“No problem. You can use my room if you’d like privacy,” she offers, pointing to a door off the living room.
“Thanks. I’ll be right out.” I head into her bedroom and shut the door behind me.
Curious, I take a moment to look around her room before I make the call. It’s feminine and neat, no surprise there. Pink, black, and white bedding. A million decorative pillows perfectly placed. One nightstand stacked with books, the other holding only a lamp, which is on. I lower myself to a bench at the foot of her bed and call my sister.
“Hello?” She already sounds peeved.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Let me guess—you’re not coming.”
“Laura, the weather’s terrible! I can’t drive in this.”
“How convenient.”
“Look, I wanted to come this year. I really did.”
“It’s like you knew I was planning to set you up tonight!”
“Set me up?” I frown. “With who?”
“I forget her name. She’s a friend of Reid Fortino’s fiancée.”
“Who the fuck is Reid Fortino?”
“God, you don’t remember anybody! He’s a co-worker of mine, and you’ve met him at least five times.”
“Oh. Well, thanks but no thanks. I don’t need to be set up.”
“Michael, you can’t keep turning down every single girl I send your way!”
“Um, yes. I can, actually.” In the living room, I can hear Harlow singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” and it makes me smile because it’s so off key.
“You’re going to wind up old and alone.”
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” I get up and open the door to peek at Harlow, stifling my laughter at the sight of her stringing Christmas lights around her body.
“Good Lord, what’s that noise? Did you adopt a sickly cat?”
“No,” I tell her, quickly shutting the door again. “It’s a neighbor singing. I have to go.”
Laura sighs dramatically. “What am I supposed to say to this girl if she shows up hoping to meet the man of her dreams?”
“Say Merry Christmas. Pass her the cheese plate.”
“You’re a big jerk,” she huffs. “I’m giving your present to somebody else. And if that girl shows up and she’s perfect, you’ll be sorry you’re not here.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I tell her. “Bye, sis. Sorry to miss the party. Give my apologies to Mom and Dad, and I’ll see you guys soon.” I end the call and hurry out of the bedroom.
The perfect girl is already mine tonight.
Chapter 5
Harlow
Michael shuts the door to my bedroom, leaving me alone in the living room. I can’t help dancing around as I admire my tree and start hanging ornaments on its branches.
“I’m sorry I called you evil,” I tell it softly. “You’re the perfect tree, and I’m having the perfect night.”
Opening up a box of lights, I wonder who Michael had to call. For a second, a wave of fear rushes through me as I imagine him calling his girlfriend—or wife!—making up some lame excuse why he’s going to be home late. But before I panic completely, I remember that he said his sister is having a party tonight. He was probably calling her to say he can’t make it because of the weather.
Scolding myself for assuming the worst, I sing along with the soundtrack to the holiday romance on the TV as I unwind the lights. Not everyone is a two-timing asshole like my ex, and I have to get over it and start trusting people again—like the hot, sexy man in a suit who rescued me this evening. The one in my bedroom.
“Have yourself a merry little Christmas,” I croon loudly, even though I am a terrible singer and Willow says I really should not ever sing in public. “Let your heart be liiiiiiiiight.” I loop a strand of lights around my waist and toss one end over my shoulder, twirling in circles. “From now on our troubles will be out of sight.”
“Wow.” Michael shuts the bedroom door behind him, his expression amused. “That’s quite the vocal talent you have there.”
I laugh. “I happen to have many talents. Singing, alas, is not one of them.”
“I gathered that conclusion from the next room.”
“Everything okay?” I glance at the phone in his hand as he walks towards me.
“Everything is great.” He tosses the phone onto the couch next to his coat. “I am not expected anywhere else tonight.”
“Perfect.” I can’t keep the smile off my face as I twirl around, showing off the lights I’m wearing. “I was just about to test these and make sure they work.”
He puts his hands on my hips and pulls me closer. “Want me to try to turn you on?”
“Yes, please.” I lift my lips to his and he kisses me, and I would not have been surprised if every damn bulb on the string lit up just from the current between us.
His mouth moves down my throat, sending sparks to the farthest reaches of my body. His hands slip beneath my tank top and slide up my sides. His breathing grows heavier as his palms move down the back of my shorts and grip my ass. He pulls me against him, and I can feel how hard he is. My belly hollows, and my core muscles clench.
I reach down between us and run my hand over the warm, hard length of him, and my legs go weak. Is it wrong that I want this near-stranger to fuck me senseless tonight?
“How am I doing?” he whispers, his breath warm on my neck. “Are you turned on yet?”
“Um, yes—and then some.” I want to move into my bedroom, but I worry it might be too forward. Luckily, he’s not nearly so concerned.
“Think the tree will mind if we give it some alone time?”
“Not at all,” I reply, a little breathless. “Want to—”
But before I can finish my invitation, he scoops me up and carries me toward my room, throwing open the door and then laying me down across the foot of my bed. My heart pounds wildly as he closes the door, returns to the bed, and removes my glasses, setting them aside on the nightstand. I’m happy the lamp is on, so I can see him, but I’m still freaking out a little.
“I’ve never done this before,” I blurt. “Brought someone into my bedroom the first night I met him.”
“I’ve never done this before either,” he says, holding up one end of the stand of lights wound around my body. “Removed Christmas tree lights from someone in bed.”
“I’m a different kind of girl,” I tell him, giggling as he unwinds the string and drops it to the floor.
He loosens the knot in his tie and stretches out above me. “I like that. I like everything about you, Harlow North.”
“Even though I’m clueless about Christmas trees?”
“If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.” He grabs my tank and lifts it over my head, revealing a red lace bra that is more decorative than anything else. His bright sapphire eyes pop. “And I’m really fucking glad to be here right now.”
I smile as I wrap my legs around him. “Good.”
We make out just like that for a good long while, and I can’t believe how hot it is—the material of his dress shirt against my chest, the way his cock rubs against me through layers of clothing, the way I’m nearly naked but he’s still wearing a fucking tie.
He moves his body over mine in a way that lets me know exactly how good it would feel if we got rid of all the barriers between us. I’m not exactly sure how far we’re going to take this, but it’s not long before he’s got me panting and writhing beneath the weight of his body, frustrated by the need to get closer to him.
How bad would it be to have sex with a stranger? I mean, is he still a stranger? I know his last name, right? And I know where—roughly—he lives. We’re practically neighbors! And I know he’s the kind of guy to rescue a damsel with a tree in distress on a snowy December night …
Good enough for me.
Apparently he’s feeling the same way, because just as I’m about to swallow my pride and reach for his b
elt, he picks up his head and says, “Hey, before this goes any farther, I just want you to know, you can tell me to stop at any time.”
“Okay.”
“So,” he says, kissing his way down my chest, “do you want me to stop?”
“Not even one little bit.”
He looks up at me, his mouth hooking into a smoldering crooked grin. “Good.”
He takes his time.
I don’t know whether he’s worried he’ll never see me again or really does just want to lavish every inch of my skin with attention, but he undresses me with an agonizing lack of haste—first my shorts, then the bra, then finally the matching panties, which make him groan when he sees them.
“Did you know what you were doing?” he demands, moving down so his head was between my legs. “Did you put these on knowing they’d drive me crazy?”
“Maybe,” I tease.
“You are definitely on the naughty list,” he tells me, and then his hands are pushing my thighs apart and his mouth is on me and I can feel his lips and tongue making me wet right through the lace. Eventually he drags them down my legs and tosses them aside, circling his tongue right over my clit until I’m so close to orgasm I could weep. He drives me to the brink of insanity, taking me right to the edge of a climax I’m desperate for, and then backs off again.
“Please,” I whisper, clawing at my comforter.
“Please what? You have to ask for it.”
“Please let me come.”
“Do you think a naughty girl like you deserves it?” he asks, sliding two fingers inside me.
“Yes!” I cry out, both in pleasure and in answer to his question.
He laughs and gives me what I want with his mouth and his hand and tongue and I’m rocking my hips beneath him, shameless and needy and moaning so loud I’m positive the neighbors can hear me.
But I don’t care—it’s the best orgasm I’ve ever had.
When my body stops its rapturous pulsing, I push his head away and scoot back. “Stop, stop,” I say, totally out of breath. “I can’t take any more.”
I Have Lived And I Have Loved: A Charity Romance Collection Page 18