by Nancy Warren
She undid the first button of his shirt and leaned in close, kissing the underside of his jaw while she was there, inhaling him, loving the warm roughness of his he-man leathery mountain climbing skin.
While she was thus engaged he batted her hands out of the way and raced through the rest of the buttons. Oh, he was so right, she realized as she gazed at the warm brown skin and the play of muscles in his chest and abdomen. She needed to be naked very fast. It really was an emergency.
He yanked his shirt off all the way. She pulled off her sweater, T-shirt, and thermal underwear, while he watched so intently goose bumps danced over her flesh. Down to bra now, and he didn’t move, still watched her, so she undid the thing herself and let it fall.
He smiled. Just the tiniest tilt of lips, crinkling around the eyes, and the intensity of his focus made her tingle. There was a sound of harsh breathing in the room, and she had no idea whose it was.
She reached for her pants. He reached for his. To avoid staring at his crotch while he undressed, she concentrated on getting herself out of pants, long johns, and panties before turning back. She glanced up quickly, found him watching her with an almost bemused expression. Their gazes connected, and suddenly they lunged for each other, kissing deep and fierce.
His tooth grazed her lip in their eagerness, and she didn’t care. Her breasts pressed almost painfully against his chest, and she only pulled him against her harder, struggling to get closer.
Their hands seemed to race over each other, trying to reach as much of the other’s skin as possible in the shortest amount of time.
“I had no idea how much I wanted you,” she mumbled against his lips, amazed that she hadn’t known the truth earlier. Certain she’d never been this desperately hot for any man.
“I know exactly how long I’ve wanted you,” he said, pulling back so he could reach her breasts. “I’ve wanted you three months and”-he stopped to think for a moment-”six days.”
She sighed and tipped her head back, loving the feel of his hands on her. “That’s exactly how long I’ve worked at the station.”
“I know.” He pushed her back onto the bed, and his mouth followed where his hands had been. He sucked a nipple gently into his mouth. “You don’t know how many times I’ve watched you through the camera and I’ve imagined you like this.”
Her wet nipple tingled in the air, but he was busy with the other one. “You imagined me naked? When we were working together? When you were barely speaking to me?”
“Not always.” .
“Well, that’s good.” She sighed again as he .trailed his tongue down her belly, feeling the heat build.
“Sometimes I pictured you in a little black thong.”
A burble of laughter made her belly dance against his tongue. “A thong?”
“Mmm.” He lifted his mouth long enough to grin up at her. “A thin one, with tiny straps hooking over your hipbones.” He trailed his fingers along her hips to show her where he meant.
“What else was I wearing in your professionally inappropriate day dream?”
“Lots of things. I’m very creative.” He circled her belly button and kept going south. “Maybe sometimes one of those corset things that lift your boobs up.”
“A bustier?”
“Yeah. I guess. And sometimes stockings with garters and high heels.”
“Anything else? “
“Yeah. Red lipstick. I love that look.”
She had a drawer full of fun stuff at home. She smiled to herself. He’d be amazed if he knew some of the underwear she did wear on camera. Underneath her clothes of course. She’d discovered they gave her hidden confidence. She didn’t entirely understand why, but she wasn’t going to knock it. She’d have worn something silky and risque tonight if she hadn’t remembered her own weather forecast and gone with the thermal under wear.
She had a feeling her weather reports were never going to be the same. She’d probably whisper in his ear just what she had on under her clothes and then watch the steam rise from behind the camera. At least the exercise would help her stay warm during the winter.
And speaking of steam rising, oh, she was starting to do some steaming of her own. While she’d been thinking about all the fancy underwear she was going to surprise him with it wasn’t only shoes she’d shopped for in Paris-he’d reached the hottest part of her.
He placed her knees over his shoulders and put his mouth on her. Had she ever felt cold? She’d been freezing earlier, but all that was a distant memory now. Heat spiked through her, building so fast she could barely keep up. She was dimly aware that her head was tossing all over the place and she was making incoherent sounds, but she couldn’t seem to control herself.
With a helpless cry, she felt the world slide out from under her.
Her head fell back, her body arched up, and with the gasps of pleasure still leaving her lips she felt him ready himself and then slide inside her body to share the tail end of her climax.
His hands skimmed up her arms, and when they reached her hands, he wrapped his fingers over hers and held her there, bound to him, to his bed, to this moment.
He kissed her slowly, and she tasted herself, and their passion, and the heat of his own need, which flamed hers again. He stoked her up again with strong, easy thrusts until she exploded once again, and he followed right behind.
While they were still panting and coming slowly back to earth, his head lay heavy against her breast. With a smile of tenderness, she looked down at the brown tangle of his hair, thinking how much she liked his rugged, casual look, and how good he felt, even sprawled on top of her and panting like a guy who’s won a major race.
She toyed with his hair idly, feeling the waft of his breath against her nipple.
She heard someone’s stomach growl. Uncertain whether it came from her or her partner, she realized they’d never stopped to eat.
“We forgot to eat dinner,” she said.
“Now you mention it.” He raised his head and leaned toward her.
She kissed him. His lips were still soft and sweaty from their passion, so she kissed him again, knowing she was going to be pulled into round two if she didn’t go get food. Now.
“Can I raid your fridge?”
“If you do it naked.”
She chuckled. “Only because I am very hungry am I letting you blackmail me like this.”
She got out of bed and padded to the kitchen, knowing his eyes were on her. She opened the fridge and imagined how she must look to him, suddenly bathed in the light from inside the refrigerator.
Before she’d finished thinking about it, or viewing her dining choices, she felt his warmth, and he wrapped one arm around her, giving her breast an absent squeeze while grabbing a block of cheese with the other. She found olives, and deli ham, and a fresh carton of hummus and one of tabouleh salad. He’d clearly done his marketing recently.
Since he was as naked as she, she took a minute to enjoy watching a gorgeous nude man moving very efficiently in his own kitchen. It was a sight she could get used to.
He pulled a loaf of crusty-looking rye bread out of a drawer, grabbed a knife, began slicing cheese. “Mustard?”
“Never eat it.”
“Pickles?”
“Why not.”
“In the fridge.”
She grabbed the jar of deli pickles, found cutlery and plates, while he grabbed a bottle of red wine and two glasses.
There was a wooden bowl on the counter containing one apple, one orange, and a banana that was going spotted. She grabbed the apple and bit into it. She felt the spurt of sweet-tart juice in her mouth, heard the crunch, was aware of the texture of apple on her tongue. Her senses seemed super heightened.
She passed the apple over, and he took a bite before hefting the food onto a tray advertising a brand of beer. They carried the food into his bedroom where they climbed in and treated the bedspread like a picnic blanket.
While she helped herself to food, he opened and poured the
wine.
“Here,” he said, handing her a glass.
She sat back against the stacked pillows and raised her glass. “To the weather,’’ she said.
“To us,” he replied.
She never remembered wine tasting better. Nor had she ever noticed the simple pleasure of food. The bread was hearty and a deep, rich brown. The cheese was plain old cheddar, but it tasted sharp and tangy. The ham, the olives, even the pickles, everything was so full of flavor. They ate the salad right out of the carton, feeding each other. He even opened a dried fruit and nut basket somebody had given him for the holidays. He went for the nuts. She headed straight for the chocolate.
“This is the best meal I’ve ever eaten,” she said, when they finally pushed aside the tray.
“Good. You’ll need your strength.”
At those words everything inside her went still and heavy. She raised her gaze to his and found it slumberous and glowing with fresh desire.
He stuck his index finger into his wine and dabbed the liquid onto her nipples, painting them dark cherry. Then he leaned over and licked them clean.
She decided it looked like fun, so she did the same thing back to him, liking the extra warmth his body heat added to the wine and the way its flavor brought out the taste of his skin.
Then they used the wine like finger paint on each other. Touching here and licking, dabbing there and sucking, until they’d teased each other back to fever pitch and she needed him inside her so badly she put her wine aside, climbed on top of him, and impaled herself.
With the first intense need out of the way, she took her time and enjoyed the feel of him inside her, the sounds he made as he approached his limit, the way his eyes went glassy and vague and the skin crinkled around the edges as though he were concentrating very hard on something important.
While she was watching his pleasure mount, he snuck a hand between them and toyed with her until she was pretty sure her eyes were just as glassy and vague, her breathing as noisy.
Once again her climax triggered his, and she pulled him into bliss along with her.
Once she collapsed back onto the bed, she made an unpleasant discovery. “There are crumbs in this bed,” she complained. She looked down at her wine-stained nipples. “And I feel like the inside of a wine barrel.”
“Shower.”
“Right.”
She got the shower just the way she liked it and climbed in, only to find her new lover climbing in behind her. Her eyes squinted against the steam. “There’s something you should know about me. I hate sex in showers. I think it’s totally over rated, usually uncomfortable, and I always end up with soap in my eye.”
He gazed down at her with mock seriousness, and she wondered if she might make an exception.
“I see. Well, since I’m already here, is there anything I can do for you?”
She thought about it. “Yes. You can wash my hair.”
So he did. And then he washed all of her. And then she washed all of him. They didn’t have sex, but she was sure humming when she got out. He even found her an extra tooth brush.
He pulled out clean sheets from his bedroom closet, and that impressed the hell out of her. She hadn’t had to ask; he’d gone ahead and changed them. And the fact that he could, meant he owned two pairs. She liked men who didn’t feel the need to live like pigs to prove their masculinity.
She crawled in beside him, her body clean, the sheets clean, and the world outside blanketed in new, white snow.
As she gazed out the window she watched the fall of flakes looking like wavy white lace curtains. Probably she should have made noises about going home to her place, but she didn’t feel like being coy. No one should drive in this weather if they didn’t have to.
And she really wanted to stay the night as much as she was certain he wanted her to.
The last time they made love was slow and sleepy, with lots of kissing and the kind of touching that’s more about the pleasure of intimacy than arousal. When she came she felt an emotion so intense she wanted to weep.
She fell asleep with his hand stroking her hair.
When Marisa woke up it was full-on Christmas morning.
She stretched against Rob’s warm, relaxed body and sighed. “Good morning,” he said.
She kissed him and snuggled against his chest. “I wish I had a gift for you,” she said.
“At the risk of sounding obnoxiously corny, waking up with you is the best Christmas present I ever had.”
“Oh, that is so sweet that I am going to make you breakfast.”
Everything seemed brighter and special and different today. Soon, she’d call her parents and do the long-distance thing, but she wanted to spend this special day with a very special man.
While she threw together an omelet, Rob made coffee with the same efficiency he seemed to bring to everything. A woman could get used to having a man like him around the house, she thought, and was amazed at how quickly this affair seemed to be moving. Except it wasn’t all that fast. It was just that they’d been toying with each other for three months.
Rob watched her, beautiful and sexy with her rumpled hair and passion-sated eyes, wearing one of his T-shirts which hung to mid-thigh. As he noticed the way she fit into his kitchen, into his bed, and into his life, he realized how stupid and blind he’d been not to realize she wasn’t exactly wrong for him. She was exactly right.
Some part of him had known from the first second.
While they sat at his breakfast counter and shared the omelet she’d cooked he knew he had to tell her.
“So,” he said, deciding this was the day everything changed. No more hiding his feelings, or trying to protect his optimist’s heart in a pessimist’s body. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
“No,” she answered calmly, looking at him over her coffee cup.
His heart sank. Of course she didn’t. No one believed in love at first sight who hadn’t experienced it. Like him. Obviously, what he’d experienced was unrequited love at first sight. And he had an awful feeling it couldn’t be excised as quickly as it struck.
She leaned closer, and through his misery, he saw the way her eyes were shining, almost as though she felt an emotion so intense there wasn’t room for it all inside.
She put her mug down with a tiny click. “In my experience,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, “falling in love takes at least one full, and very snowy, night.”
His heart started to hammer, and he knew he’d remember this moment forever. “You mean?”
She leaned forward, and her lips parted. Just before they kissed, she said, “Merry Christmas, darling.”
Author's note
I hope you’ve enjoyed this short, sexy Christmas tale.
Please consider reviewing it wherever you like to browse for books.
I hope you’ll also check out my website at http://www.nancywarren.net and sign up for my newsletter.
Here are a few more fun Christmas stories you might enjoy.
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