Three Nights Before Christmas: A Holiday Romance Collection

by Kati Wilde

  But how could she know? I held back everything, never showed her or told her that I wanted anything more personal from her than sex.

  “Audrey. Baby.” Voice thick, I kneel in front of her. My shaking hands hover so close to touching but I can’t yet, I can’t. I have to fix this first. I wasn’t direct enough before. I will be now. “You can have a day. You can have a week. You can have forever. I want to marry for love, which means I want to marry you. I love you, baby. I’m so deep in love with you, I’ll never get out. And I’ll never want to.”

  She goes utterly still and quiet except for the uncontrollable shuddering of her breath.

  Each word choked by emotion, I tell her again, “I want to marry you because I love you. But I’ll love you if you don’t marry me. I’ll love you no matter what you do. But I do want you to marry me. Not for spite, not for the inheritance—but for love.”

  She lifts her head, her teary gaze searching my face. Her throat works, and her voice is only a faint rasp when she says, “I’m not marrying you because I love you.”

  “No?” I don’t believe it for a second. Not after this. “I think you do love me.”

  “Of course I do.” A deep hiccuping shudder moves through her. She wipes her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand, and I give her the edge of my sheet to use as a tissue. “But it’s not why I’m marrying you.”

  Of course I do. My heart swells up so fucking big. “Why, then?”

  “Because you asked me to marry you,” she says simply. “That has always been my reason. I would have pursued you regardless, but that’s only dating. The reason I’m marrying you is because you brought me a proposal—which became a marriage contract.”

  The one I wanted to rip up. “And we’ll let that contract stand. It doesn’t matter. But what we clearly need is another proposal.”

  Her mouth curves into a watery smile. “Do we?”

  “Yeah.” And I’m already kneeling in front of her. Gently, I take her hand—and she doesn’t stiffen or pull away. Instead her fingers intertwine with mine, and my voice is raw with emotion when I begin. “I want you to marry me, Audrey Clarke. I want you to love me and let me love you for the rest of our lives. Will you?”

  Sheer joy glitters in her eyes. “Yes.”

  All the shattered pieces of my world slide back together. Everything empty fills again, then overflows. My hands shake with the force of my emotions as I bring her fingers to my lips and press a kiss to her engagement ring, then the backs of her fingers, one by one, before tugging her forward.

  She rocks up onto her knees, so we’re face to face—but although I intended to kiss her, I’m stopped by her warm hand cupping my jaw. She looks up at me, amazement shining from her beautiful eyes.

  Wonder fills her voice. “You’re the only person who has ever loved me.”

  Oh, baby. Heart aching, I capture her mouth. All the love I feel burns through every brush of our lips, every slide of our tongues. Suddenly it’s so much clearer why she never suspected that I would marry her for love. She truly believes that nobody does.

  But I can’t let her go on believing it. Resting my forehead against hers, I tell her gruffly, “I’m not the only one. Jeremy and Jessica love you. Reverend Foster loves you. Mia loves you. And these are just the friends of yours that I’ve met. I bet there are plenty more.”

  Doubt clouds her expression, but hope lifts her tone. “You think they do?”

  “I know they do.” I cup her face in my hands. “I suppose no one really goes around saying it. Especially employees to their employers. Or adult male mentor figures to teenaged girls. It’s too easy to be misunderstood as something sexual or romantic.”

  “Yes,” she agrees softly.

  “I’ll say it to you. So much you’ll get tired of hearing it.”

  Her mouth curves. “That won’t ever happen.”

  “And I won’t ever get tired of saying it. Hell, every time I kiss you, I’ll be saying it.” I demonstrate with another taste of her lips. “And you love your friends, too?”

  “Of course.”

  Always ‘of course.’ As if loving is so natural for her. But usually being blunt and open is natural for her, too. “Yet you never said anything to them? Or to me, either. That’s not like you.”

  “I didn’t want anyone to feel obligated to reciprocate my feelings. Especially since no one is going to…” She trails off, as if once again grappling with the idea that there are people who love her. In a small voice she says, “You really think they do?”

  “Yeah, baby. Maybe they’re not in love with you like I am. But they love you.” And I’d bet my left nut there’s more than a few unlucky bastards out there who are in love with her, too. “Because you’re so damn lovable. As soon as they get to know you, my friends will love you, too. So will our kids.”

  “Our children?” Pained yearning darkens her eyes. “You think they’ll be able to?”

  Not wondering if they’ll be able to love. Wondering if they’ll be able to love her.

  Her parasite of a mother and shit stain of a father have a hell of a lot to answer for. Because of them, the most incredible woman in the world has spent most of her life believing she wasn’t loved. That she couldn’t be loved.

  Yet Audrey still spent so much of that time quietly giving her love to others. That has nothing to do with her parents and everything to do with who Audrey is.

  My throat tight, I nod. “I’m sure they will, baby. Our children are going to love you as much as I do.”

  New, happy tears glisten in her eyes and a beautiful smile curves her lips. “They will love you even more…my big, sweet, sexy marshmallow.”

  “Full of gooey stuff just for you.” I grin when she delicately snorts out a laugh. “You want to go upstairs and practice making those kids?”

  Because I don’t want to hold back anymore.

  Though temptation lights her face, she shakes her head. “I want to, but…I’m really tired. And a little bit sore.”

  I’ll rein it in, then—and send her home, so she can sleep in tomorrow morning rather than wake up when I go to work. “You’ve had a hell of a day, baby. I’ll walk you to the car.”

  And the next time I see her, she’ll be walking down the aisle toward me. Almost thirty-six hours of sheer torture while I’m waiting to make her mine.

  At the car, the driver flashes me a discreet thumbs-up while she opens the door—then she tactfully slips into the front seat, leaving me standing alone on the curb with Audrey, still only wearing my sheet. With concern, Audrey glances down at my bare feet but I stop her before she can say a word.

  “I’ll be quick,” I reassure her, tipping her chin up until she meets my eyes. “I want to be sure there’s nothing else in the way of our clean start. Is there anything we still need to say?”

  “Just one thing,” she tells me, reaching up to cradle my face in her hands. “I love you, Caleb Moore.”

  A tangle of sweet emotion knots my in throat. Just one thing. But it’s the only thing that matters. And it’s all that needs to be said. So I kiss her once more, then let her go.

  The next time I kiss her, she’ll be my wife.

  13

  Audrey

  Here is what happened the first time: I walked through the elevator doors, and the sight of Caleb Moore standing in the wrong place threw me so off-kilter that I didn’t even dare to look at his face. He unbalanced everything.

  Here is what happens now: I walk through the church doors, and Caleb Moore’s fascinating face is the only thing I let myself see. Because everything else in the church is off-kilter, the symmetry just a little bit off. Not the pews on either side of the aisle that are filled with our friends and the people who care about us, not the decorations or the architecture of the church itself. But up ahead, Reverend Foster waits at the altar and Caleb stands to the right side, his dark eyes locked on mine. Yet on the left side, there’s nothing. Just an empty space that is so, so wrong.

  Until Caleb holds
out his hand. When I take my place beside him, the whole world rights itself again.

  But it’s not the same world it used to be. This world seems…unreal. As if it’s a dream. And I’ve felt like this for almost two days now.

  This is a world where people love me. So nothing is familiar—not even myself. Because this woman that people love…I’m not used to being her. The past two days I’ve had the strangest sense of being disconnected from my own body, as if all this love that surrounds me belongs to someone else. Yet I don’t think Caleb’s wrong about how my friends feel. I simply had to open my eyes to the possibility that it was true, and when I see my friends’ deep and genuine happiness for me, I think that it must be. So every minute spent with Mia, Jeremy, and Jessica while preparing for the wedding ceremony has been filled with the amazement of this discovery, which continually seems new and surprising. Perhaps one day it will finally sink in.

  But knowing that Caleb loves me…I don’t think the wonder and amazement will ever fade. It might always feel like a dream.

  At least everything feels real as he takes my hand. He’s absolutely beautiful in the formal morning suit that he opted for over a tuxedo, each piece perfectly tailored to his tall, muscular form. And the way he looks at me with so much awe, so much desire, so much love burning in his eyes…

  “Audrey, baby,” Caleb murmurs, lightly squeezing my fingers, his brown eyes full of laughter now. “Come back to me.”

  Whoops. I hyperfocused on his fascinating face. But who wouldn’t, if Caleb looked at them like that?

  Filled with sheer joy, I grin up at him. “My rubber band didn’t go with this dress. What did I miss?”

  “Only the sermon,” Reverend Foster says dryly. “But you rarely listen to those anyway. I’ll email it to you.”

  Perfect. “So are we married now?”

  “Almost.” Caleb’s fingers tighten on mine, his voice deepening. “We still have to say the vows.”

  The vows. They are why I prefer a marriage contract to this ceremony. I can’t easily tell whether people are speaking the truth, or if they mean something other than what they are saying. But a contract with terms that are explicitly spelled out allows less room for ambiguity or misunderstanding. So signing that agreement felt more binding than words spoken in ways I might not fully perceive.

  But that was only until Caleb spoke them to me.

  No ambiguity lurks beneath the raw emotion thickening his voice as he promises to honor and cherish me. There’s no way to misunderstand the depth of the devotion in his warm gaze as he vows to forsake all others. And the truth of every word lies naked upon his beautiful face when he swears to love me as long as we both shall live.

  Even if he hadn’t said the words on Saturday night, I’d have known he loved me today. I couldn’t have made any other possible interpretation when his vows are written so clearly in his every word, his every look, his every touch.

  The unadulterated force of his love fills my own heart achingly full as I repeat the vows—and he knows so well that I can’t lie. That I mean every word I say. On this day, I would have revealed myself to him, too.

  But there’s nothing left to hide when Caleb cradles my face in his big hands. When he reverently kisses my lips.

  When he becomes mine, and he makes me his.

  I don’t know what to call the emotion that crashes over me then, but I’m dizzy with it as Caleb takes my hand and leads me down the aisle. A car is waiting outside to take us to our reception at the Clement Hotel, which is only a two-minute drive from the church—yet I intend to make the most of every second alone with him.

  Caleb must have the same intention. His strong arms haul me into his lap and he hungrily feasts from my mouth, then he groans when his callused palms slide up the bare skin of my back.

  “Fucking hell, baby. Wedding dresses aren’t supposed to be this goddamn hot. You know what all your naked skin did to me when you turned around at the end?”

  I’m sitting on what it did to him. Smiling against his lips, I say, “I wore it because I want to dance with you again.”

  And my dress is a floor-length white silk version of the backless red dress that I wore to the mayor’s cocktail party last week—and our reception is in the same ballroom. All I want to feel is Caleb holding me close again, his hand against my bare skin.

  “We’ll dance, baby. Just hope that I don’t end up losing my head and fucking you in front of everyone.”

  I won’t hope too hard. I slip my fingers down the length of his wedding tie, then trace the edge of his dark green waistcoat, a color perfect for a Christmas wedding. “I like your suit. It’s just like you—a little old-fashioned and a lot sexy.”

  “You can thank Jeremy for picking it out. Shit, we’re almost there,” he swears as the car begins to slow, kissing me again. “How flexible is your schedule today? Can we skip out of this thing early?”

  “Oh, Caleb,” I tell him softly, because he’s still so innocent in so many ways. “As of this afternoon, you are Mister Audrey Motherfuckin’ Clarke—which means we can skip out whenever we want. I’d like some cake before we go, though.”

  His eyes narrow. “You know your assistants’ nickname for you?”

  “It’s my nickname for me. I told Jeremy and Jessica what it was when I hired them, so there weren’t any misunderstandings about exactly who I am.”

  “So you give yourself a badass name, yet I get stuck with the same ‘marshmallow’ that I had as a kid?”

  “Are either of those names wrong?” I dare him to say they are.

  He laughs, shaking his head. “No, baby. Except for the part where I’m soft.”

  “I can tell,” I murmur huskily. His thick erection is a steely length beneath me—a length that will soon be inside me. My inner muscles clench with anticipation. “I love you…my husband.”

  A possessive gleam lights his eyes. “I love you, my wife.”

  That dizzying emotion sweeps over me again, a whirlwind that lifts me off my feet until I’m flying, strangely disconnected again from this woman who is so loved. Yet at the same time, I’m right here with him—holding his hand as we make our way to the ballroom. Aside from the staff catering the event, we’re the first to arrive, so I lead him through the maze of dinner tables to the center of the room. Turning me to face him, his hand possessively slides down my naked back before he pulls me close.

  Someone must have alerted the string quartet, because we’ve only swayed together for a few moments when a sweet melody begins playing. Yet the only rhythm I feel is the one beating in his chest, where my hand rests over his heart. The only music I hear is the devotion in Caleb’s deep voice when he murmurs “I love you” against my lips.

  More guests arrive and we continue dancing. Jeremy and Jessica didn’t plan a reception that would force me to stand in a line, greeting people and shaking their hands. And it’s Christmas Eve, when attending a long social event might be more stressful than fun, especially for those with holiday preparations or family at home, so no one has to wait for dinner or cake or pictures or speeches. The buffet and bar are open, one of the cakes is sliced, the dancing has already begun—and if all they want to do before leaving is pick up the gift bag I’ve provided for each guest, they are more than welcome to.

  I wouldn’t know they were here, anyway. There’s only Caleb, holding me so close while sheer emotion sends me spinning and soaring, looking down at myself in his arms.

  But there are speeches, of course. And friends to laugh with—and a cake to cut.

  Nothing ever tasted sweeter than Caleb’s kiss after I feed him that first bite. Nothing ever made me hungrier than the look in his eyes when I lick lemon buttercream from my thumb—until he takes my hand and licks the frosting from the tip of my second finger. I’m so much hungrier then.

  So is he. His gaze is utterly ravenous as I rise up onto my toes and murmur against his mouth—“My panties are so wet.”

  Primitive need flares across his expression befor
e he kisses me—a kiss that clearly takes all of his strength to pull away from. His voice is a soft growl as he says, “We’ll take the rest of your cake to go.”

  Jessica’s already prepared for this. I barely get out the request for a to-go slice before she hands over a bag containing a square bakery box, my purse, and phone. “The top tier. Plus everything else you’ll need that isn’t already married to you. I’ll call and let them know you’re on your way up.”

  Emotion swells up through my chest, so big and bright. “Thank you. And I love you,” I tell her even as Caleb takes my hand and begins pulling me toward the exit. “Jeremy, too. You’re both wonderful and I’m so happy to work with you. Tell him I said so.”

  “I will.” Her dark eyes glisten and her smooth, buttery voice has scratches in it. “We love you, too, boss.”

  Then I’m flying again, dizzy with so much love—while laughing and almost running to keep up with Caleb’s long strides. But we’re going the wrong way.

  I tug on his hand. “The elevator’s in that direction.”

  “And the lobby’s in this direction.” His eyes are a fevered gleam. “It’s a four-hour drive to your lodge. I can’t wait that long, so I’m getting us a room.”

  Laughing, I tug him toward the elevator again. “I already thought of that. Everything’s ready to go.”

  He instantly changes direction. I look into the bag for the key card that’ll give access to the top levels, and practically hear his teeth grit in frustration when other hotel guests board the elevator at the same time. An older couple glances at our clothes and offers their congratulations, and I suspect that if not for their presence, we’d have consummated our marriage in the elevator.

  As it is, Caleb doesn’t even notice my call button selection until the car has emptied. “Which floor is ‘RF’?”

  “The roof,” I say, pulling him forward as the doors open. “Because I don’t want to spend four hours driving to the lodge, either.”