by CJ England
"Ami!” He tried to calm her. He knew that getting her to understand what he was would be his hardest task. “No one put me up to anything. This I swear."
"Then what the hell is this all about?"
"It has nothing to do with Hell, sweet Ami. That I promise you.” He put his finger under her chin and lifted it. “Je promets ... I promise you I will tell you everything, but ... I think I could use a little more ... heat. Will you help ... warm me?"
Her eyelashes fluttered. “Warm you?” she asked hesitantly.
"I have all this wonderful ... hot water beating down on me, but I still am cold ... on the inside,” he murmured against her mouth. “Will you kiss me? Will you not warm me from the inside out?"
This is crazy, Amy thought. But for the life of her, she couldn't get her lips to refuse him. Instead, as if they had a mind of their own, they parted, allowing the handsome stranger full access to the heated warmth of her mouth.
She shivered as his cold tongue traced over the seam of her lips, tickling each one individually before he delved inside. He treated her mouth like a fine dessert, tasting and nibbling until each and every one of her nerve endings was electrified with feeling. He seemed so familiar to her ... his touch, his very taste, like she already knew him. She moaned deep in her throat. He may have wanted her to warm him, but she knew she was the one who was getting warmed up.
He continued to kiss her, pulling her tightly against him as his mouth slanted over hers more intensely. She felt his heart pounding against her breast and she couldn't help but respond to the obvious need she felt from him. Wrapping her arms around his naked waist, she let herself go to the feelings dancing inside her.
Bliss. How long had it been since he'd touched a woman? Tasted her? Too damn long, and it had never been like this. She tasted of peppermint and woman. He plundered her mouth, groaning at her response to him. All he'd wanted was a kiss. Just a quick stroke of the lips, but as soon as he'd touched her, he knew it wouldn't be enough.
She was different ... spécial. She had already called him from his home in the sky. Could she be more to him?
She moaned and he felt his body tighten. He was warm now. Completely normal, except for the lingering cold of the first form he'd taken. That would never totally leave him, but it was nothing compared to the heat that this woman started in him. He burned to make her his own.
"Ami,” he whispered against her lips. Slowly, he backed her against the slick tile wall of the tub. The thin shift she wore gave no protection from his gaze. Wet, it was plastered against her like a second skin, showing him every line and curve of her body.
His cock jutted against her stomach as he bent and nuzzled her neck. “So beautiful,” he murmured, licking away the water droplets on her skin. Even with the makeup smudged on her face, she was lovely. His hand moved gently down her side and cupped her butt. “So soft ... si belle.” His mouth covered hers again in a hungry kiss.
Amy hadn't expected such a strong reaction. The men she'd kissed in the past all acted like they were doing her a favor. None had ever treated her like she was a precious thing, as this man did. And she'd never felt such an instant attraction before.
But this one ... this crazy man from the snow made her want to do whatever he wanted her to. One touch of his mouth, and she lost all restraint. Her body ached for more when he kissed her neck. And when he took her lips a second time, she moaned. She didn't care whether he was Mr. Perfect or not, but he was definitely real ... and for the moment, he was all hers.
When he bent and sucked a cloth covered nipple into his mouth, her knees gave out. She clutched at his head trying to decide whether to push him away, or pull him closer. Her body fought with her mind, but when his hand smoothed up her thigh to cup the heated flesh between her legs, she knew she was lost.
He felt her surrender and any lingering trace of coldness disappeared under a white hot ball of need. With a strong tug, he pulled the wet night gown up so he could touch the softness beneath. Her shocked cry made him slow, instinctively covering her mouth in a deep kiss. Gently, he ran his hand up her soft leg to the space between her legs. His cock jumped as he traced the shaved lips with his fingers. He groaned aloud. More than anything he wanted to bury himself deep within her.
"Je vous veux ... I want you,” he said between kisses. Lifting her so her legs could wrap around his waist, his fingers carefully parted her nether lips. Immediately, his hand was flooded with her juices. Burying his head in her neck, he gritted his teeth. If he wasn't careful, he'd explode right now.
Taking deep breaths, he continued to caress her, circling her already swollen clit with one long finger, while another eased gently into her heated quim. When she cried out, he groaned again. She was so responsive, she was killing him.
Amy was flooded with feelings she'd never before experienced. The way he touched her, the scent of him ... everything seemed so familiar to her, yet it was all brand new. She'd been with other men, but it hadn't been like this. He was overwhelming her with passion, with the utter rightness of his claim on her. It didn't make sense, but nothing had, since she'd looked into his coal black eyes.
Then her mind blanked of all thoughts except of him. His fingers were still cool as they stroked over her heated flesh, making his touch even more erotic. She desperately wanted to touch him, but her hands wouldn't move ... she was too drugged with sensation.
Suddenly, his fingers slid inside her and she cried out at the icy sensation. Heat curled between her legs and she moved against him rhythmically, gasping at the twin sensations of hot and cold.
She was getting close to coming, he could sense it. He took her mouth in a deep, drugging kiss and plunged his fingers deeper within her, using his thumb to stroke her throbbing clit. His cock throbbed painfully as he brought her closer and closer to completion.
Her back arched and he knew she was going over the edge. Jerkily, swearing under his breath, he removed his fingers, replacing them with the head of his penis. With one thrust, he buried himself deep inside her. “Mon Dieu,” he groaned as he felt her wet, clinging heat. “I have ... waited so ... long."
Amy's eyes flew open and she screamed aloud. She felt stretched beyond belief and his cock was as cool as his fingers had been. When he began to move inside her, it was the most erotic thing she'd ever felt. It didn't take but a few thrusts before she couldn't stand it any more. Her orgasm hit her hard, explosions of heat and icy cold blending together to send her over the edge. Lights danced behind her eyelids and she clutched at his shoulders to hold on to her sanity. She shuddered over and over again, lost to everything, but how he had made her feel.
He held back as long as he could, but when she shuddered around him, her hot channel clenching down on his cock, milking him with her climax, he lost control. Pushing her back against the wet tile, he pounded into her, already feeling the burning in his balls, signaling his release. With a loud groan, he drove into her one last time, grinding his hips against hers as he poured himself into her. It seemed to go on forever, as he shuddered and shook, but eventually, he sagged against her.
After a long while, he took a deep ragged breath. “Ahhh, ma ange ... what you have done to me.” His lips moved gently over her cheeks and brow. “You have warmed me most successfully."
Slowly, Amy drifted back to earth, every bone in her body still liquid from the pleasure she'd received. As her heartbeat returned to normal, so did her realization of her behavior. Her face flooded with heat and she buried her face in his strong shoulder. What had she done? She ... who refused a one night stand with Mr. Clean, had just had mind blowing sex in her shower with a man whose name she didn't even know!
She was abruptly warm again, but this time it wasn't from passion. Completely embarrassed, she could think of only one thing.
Escape.
Refusing to look at him, she pushed at his chest. When he let her go, his semi-hard cock still sent thrills through her as it slid slowly from her sensitive yoni.
"Ami?
"
Her eyes filled with tears when she heard her name spoken in his deep sexy voice, but she didn't stop. “I ... I'll start some coffee."
"But..."
Ignoring his outstretched hand, she slipped out of the shower. Grabbing a towel, she bolted from the bathroom.
Chapter Three
Oh, you can't stop the spirit of Christmas, because it touches everything you can see.
You can't stop the spirit of Christmas, for that spirit lives inside you and me...
'The Christmas Spirit Song'
Amy rattled around gathering things together for coffee. The everyday job helped center her in a world suddenly gone crazy. Was it the world, or was it her? She closed her eyes. She had done something incredibly stupid. Having sex with a stranger wasn't like her at all. In fact ... it was so unlike her, she couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she'd done it.
But the slight tingling between her thighs, and the still liquid feeling in her bones told her she had ... and that she'd enjoyed it. Opening her eyes, she added coffee beans to the grinder. Her cheeks heated again when she thought of how she'd run from him like a scared rabbit. “Smooth, Amy ... real smooth,” she muttered disgustedly. She'd barely stopped long enough to throw on her robe and comb her hair back into a ponytail before she headed to the safety of the kitchen.
She turned on the grinder, enjoying the tangy odor of fresh ground coffee beans. Efficiently, she finished preparing the coffee trying not to think about the dark man in her bathroom. But the whisker burn on her cheeks and her swollen lips kept bringing her back to those moments in the shower where she had let herself go. It had felt so right. She couldn't really blame him. She'd been more than willing.
Amy heard the sound of footsteps in the hall and froze. “Oh God,” she whispered. “What am I supposed to do now?” She turned to look at him and went still.
He must have gone through her clothes, because he wore a pair of navy sweats that she usually used for exercising, slung low on his hips. Apparently, he couldn't find a shirt, because he was bare to the waist. Her mouth went dry when she saw him now, warm and definitely healthy.
He had raven black hair that flowed almost to his shoulders. His face was darkly European and rough, with a square jaw that was covered by dark stubble. The deep cleft in the middle of his chin could barely be seen under the five o'clock shadow. Now she knew what was responsible for the whisker burn. Eyes the color of the sky at night, gleamed under ebony brows.
Wide shoulders and muscular arms framed a strong chest and rock hard abs. The sweats were tight on him, showing his sculpted thighs. The large bulge between his legs, made Amy realize that she hadn't been wrong in what she'd felt in the shower. He was huge. Her eyes skittered away from him ... and drop dead gorgeous! She couldn't believe she'd made love with him. But why did he seem so damn familiar?
He followed the fresh scent of coffee from the bedroom. It had been a long time since he'd had a chance to smell anything, and this scent made his mouth water.
"Café,” he groaned as he walked into the kitchen. “Ma ange ... I would kill for a cup."
When he saw her go stiff, he chuckled out loud. “I am being facetious, Ami. After what we have shared ... do you fear me?"
When she didn't answer, he frowned. “Ami?” He walked over and turned her to face him. “What is this? Are you afraid of me?"
She swallowed, and licked her dry lips, making him ache for her all over again. “Not afraid ... exactly."
He studied her face, seeing the embarrassment written there and his heart fell. “Don't say ... you regret our lovemaking?"
She pulled away and took down two coffee mugs from the cabinet. “You may be used to doing stuff like that, but I'm not.” She slammed the mugs down on the counter. “We just had unprotected sex in my shower! For God's sake ... I don't even know your name!"
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “There is no concern of pregnancy. C'est impossible. And you do know my name, ma cherie. You gave it to me, yourself."
Amy blinked. “Excuse me?"
He waved a dark hand. “You called me Frosty ... no? Is that not my name?"
She stared at him, her light blue eyes wide with shock. “The cold has done something to your memory, right? That's why you can't remember your name."
He gave a Gallic shrug. “The only name I have is the one you gave me. Frosty ... after the snowman.” He smiled and caressed her cheek. “Shall we have some more fun, before I melt away?"
"I can't call you Frosty,” she snorted, ignoring the rest of his statement. “That's a ridiculous name for a man.
"Perhaps you would like it better in my native tongue. Givré. Is that better?"
"Givré?” She rolled the name on her tongue. “Is that French? You have a French accent?"
"Oui ... will that do?
She waved her hands in resignation. He was nuttier than a fruitcake. “Why not ... nothing else makes sense."
"I am here for you, Ami. After all, I am your creation."
Amy's legs gave out and she sat down hard on a nearby chair. “Creation?” she squeaked.
"I'm here because you wished for me,” he said. “You built the snowman and made a Christmas wish. I was sent to fulfill it.” His brow furrowed. “Am I not what you wanted?"
Amy laid her head down on the table. “This must be a dream,” she muttered. “All a part of the hangover. Any minute I'll wake up and I'll be lying in bed—"
"If that is where you wish to be...” her creation lifted her into his arms. “I too would like to be in bed with you, sweet Ami."
"Stop it,” she shouted. “Put me down.” She ignored his crestfallen look and waited until she was safely seated again. The thought of them in bed together made her pulse race.
"You are angry with me?” Givré's dark eyes searched hers. “Why? What have I done?"
"You stand there and tell me you are the snowman I built, and you don't understand why I'm angry?” She rubbed her eyes. “This is nuts."
His face lit up. “Ahhh, I understand now. You do not believe I am your snowman."
"You think?"
He laughed, making her toes curl. “Sweet, Ami. I am the snowman, but I am more. You carved my likeness out of snow as a joke, but when you made a wish, my spirit was sent to you."
"Sorry, still not getting it."
Givré sat down next to her. “Do you not know that when you make wishes at Christmas time, they might come true?"
"Really.” Her dry tone showed him he had a long way to go to make her understand.
"Oui, chérie. You carved my figure out of ice and snow, then you wished that I was real so I could take you to your ball. Do you not remember?"
"How could you know that?"
He chuckled. “Perhaps I should start from the beginning."
"That would be nice."
"But...” he gazed longingly at the coffee pot. “Could I please have some café? It has been a long time for me.” Then his eyes gleamed and he dropped a quick kiss on her unsuspecting lips. “It had been a long time for me in other ways, too. I wonder if your café is as delicious as you were. I know already, that I would like another taste of you."
She blushed and bolted towards the coffee pot. “Don't say things like that."
Givré laughed. “I can only tell the truth, ma ange ... no lies ... ever."
Amy snorted. “Right ... a man that doesn't lie. Impossible."
He frowned and walked over to her. “You have been hurt ... no?” He saw in her face that he was right. “You won't have to worry about that, Ami. I will always tell you the truth."
Pouring out the coffee, Amy struggled with herself. The whole thing was crazy, wasn't it? There was no such thing as magic. Sure ... he might look like the snowman she'd created, but it was just a coincidence. Any minute now, he'd tell her it was all a joke.
"Ami?” Givré covered her restless hands with his own. “Give me a chance to tell you everything. Then you can decide if I am fou ... crazy."
&n
bsp; His touch calmed her, as it had done earlier. He was still a stranger, but there was something about him ... She sighed. “Get your coffee and tell me your story."
Once they were seated, he took a long sip and sighed with delight. “Très bon. I had forgotten how wonderful the smell and taste of fresh café was. Even if it is not real French café.” He wished he could just sit and enjoy it, but he could see that she was waiting impatiently.
"Ami ... I came in answer to your call. You wished in your heart that you could have un vrai homme ... a real man in your life. One that would love you, if only for a little while.” He inclined his dark head. “I am Givré. Frosty ... the real man. At your service."
"Okay, Frosty ... Givré ... She rolled her eyes. “I can't believe I'm even asking you this...” She sighed and then looked at him. “You said I called you. What do you mean?"
"Have you heard of the Christmas spirit, ma ange?"
"Yes, of course."
"Well ... I am one of them.” Amy's mouth dropped open, and chuckling, Givré used his index finger to close it. “It is true. I am a Christmas spirit."
"Wait a minute...” Amy pushed his hand away. “The Christmas spirit is French?"
Laughing, he captured her hand and kissed it effusively. “Let me explain. The Christmas spirit you hear so much about? It is not just one spirit ... but many. Comprenez? We are souls that weren't quite ready for heaven yet, souls from all over the world. During the Christmas season, when the time comes for us to help someone, the spirit best suited to the need is sent down."
She shook her head. “I didn't ask for help."
"But you did,” he said earnestly. He squeezed her hand. “Did you not wish for your snowman to be real? Just for a little while?"
"How—"
"I know,” he interrupted, “because I was told of your wish when I was sent down to you."
"I was sent a sexy, French Christmas spirit?"
His white teeth flashed in a grin. “You think I am sexy? Merveilleux!"
Amy felt her cheeks heat, but went on doggedly. “I mean ... why you? If you are really the Christmas spirit..."