Maybe This Christmas

by Sarah Morgan

  “Let’s put it like this—Josh and I may have had our differences over the years, but I’ve never wanted to kill him before the other night.” He rose to his feet, and she took another step backward, afraid of what she’d unleashed. He was the most familiar thing in her life, but nothing about this situation felt familiar.

  “I’m going back to bed before one of us says something we can’t take back.”

  “Too late.” He slid an arm around her waist, locking her against him while he used his free hand to stroke her hair back from her face. “Brenna.” He spoke her name softly, and his tone was one she’d never heard before.

  She stood, frozen by shock as his fingers trailed slowly over her face, tracing the line of her jaw, the curve of her cheek, as if he was seeing her for the first time. She felt the warmth of his hand through the thin fabric of her pajamas, the hardness and power of his thighs pressed against hers, and it felt incredible.

  It felt like a dream.

  She didn’t want to breathe, didn’t want to move in case she did something to break the spell, to spoil what was turning out to be the best moment of her life.

  She felt his jaw brush against the top of her head, the warmth of his touch against her skin and she closed her eyes because it was so close, so close, to what she’d spent her whole life hoping for.

  He cupped her face in his hands and dragged his thumbs over her cheeks. “Brenna—” he lowered his forehead to hers, holding her gaze “—do you know how I felt watching you go out with Josh?”

  “How did you feel?” She whispered the words, mesmerized by the look in his eyes.

  “Uncivilized.” His voice was thickened. “I’ve known the guy since high school, and I wanted to flatten him.”

  “You were jealous?” It shouldn’t have thrilled her but it did. She locked her hand in the front of his shirt. “That wasn’t why I did it.”

  “I know.”

  “I thought you didn’t— I mean, I assumed—”

  “You assumed wrong.”

  She licked her lips. “You never noticed me. There were days when you didn’t even look at me.”

  “Yeah, those were the days I worked extra hard.” His eyes were on her mouth. “I noticed you. Every day. Turns out that when it’s something that really matters, I have more control than I thought.”

  She lifted her hand and stroked his face, feeling the roughness of his jaw against her palm. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Because what we have is important. We’ve been friends for years. Ours is the only relationship I haven’t messed up. I didn’t want to risk what we have by confessing that all I wanted to do was have mind-blowing sex with you.”

  She was shaking. “I—I’ve never had mind-blowing sex.”

  His eyes darkened. “You’re not—?”

  “No!” She felt the heat flare in her cheeks. “I’m not used to talking about this.”

  “So you’ve had sex, but not mind-blowing sex?” His voice was rough, the words barely audible, and she saw his mouth curve into a slow smile. “Maybe it’s time we did something about that.”

  She could feel the warmth of his breath against her mouth. His lips were close enough to tease but not touch, and she stood like a bird about to fly for the first time, exhilarated and terrified.

  He was going to kiss her.

  Finally, after waiting a lifetime, Tyler O’Neil was going to kiss her.

  Bold, terrified he might change his mind, she rose on tiptoe and closed the gap, bringing her mouth to his.

  A second’s delay, a moment of heart-stopping hesitation, and then his mouth claimed hers, slowly at first and then with deep, sensual hunger. Raw, electrifying excitement rushed through her, and she moaned against his lips, opening her mouth as she felt the skilled slide of his tongue against hers.

  Everything inside her melted, and she clung to his shoulders, grateful for the solid strength that kept them both upright.

  She was impatient for more, and she’d thought he was, too, but he kept that side of him reined in as he kissed her slowly and thoroughly until sensation flooded every cell of her body. She closed her eyes, luxuriating in the skill of his mouth, knowing that nothing in her life before had felt as perfect and right as this.

  His mouth slid over her jaw, down to her neck and fastened over a pulse beating at the base of her throat. The brush of his tongue brought a moan to her throat, and she tugged at his shirt, needing to touch him, needing to feel. He had the body of an athlete, supremely fit, honed from hours of hard physical exercise, and her seeking hands encountered hard male muscle and smooth skin.

  He slid one hand behind her head and brought his mouth back to hers in a kiss that was hot and explicit. She felt him, hard and ready through the fabric of his jeans, and she could hardly breathe for wanting him.

  Would it be here?

  Now?

  She breathed him in, tasted him, touched him and just when she was ready to do anything he asked of her, he eased his mouth away from hers.

  His gaze was hooded, his expression unreadable, and then he scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the den and up the stairs to his bedroom.

  It was the only room in the house she hadn’t seen. He lowered her to the floor next to the bed, which was positioned to take advantage of acres of glass. This time she wasn’t interested in the view. Only the man.

  Without shifting his gaze from hers, he slid her top over her head and then moved his hands down her body, peeling away clothing, his and hers until they were both naked. Curious, fascinated, she trailed her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, feeling the dip and swell of muscle under her fingers, exploring and discovering. She knew everything about him, but not this. This part of him had remained a secret to her. This was the only intimacy they hadn’t shared in a lifetime of friendship.

  Everything about him was strong, vital, virile, from the haze of dark hair over his chest to the smooth power of his shoulders. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his shoulder, sliding her hands over his abdomen and lower, feeling his muscles flex, hearing the change in his breathing as she closed her hand over the silken thickness of him.

  “You’re killing me,” he groaned and then pulled her against the power of his body and into the heat of his kiss. “Brenna, Brenna—” He murmured her name over and over again, ran the tip of his tongue over her lower lip, explored every part of her mouth until she could hardly stand because this was Tyler, her Tyler, and he was kissing her as if the world was ending and this was their last moment together.

  He lowered her to the bed in a fluid movement, so strong, so sure of himself as he eased over her, the muscles bunching in his arms as he supported his weight. And still he kissed her while his hand slid over her waist, her hip and down to her thigh, missing not a single part of her. And then his mouth followed, and she squirmed against the sheets, unable to stay still as he fastened his mouth over the tip of first one breast and then the other while his fingertips slid, stroked and explored with maddening skill. Sensation cascaded from all sides until she was dizzy with the thrill of it, drowning in thick, syrupy pleasure, consumed by savage sexual excitement.

  She felt him part her, felt every slow, careful stroke of those clever fingers and then his mouth as he acquainted himself with every part of her body. Shyness was brief and quickly replaced by an urgency so sharp, she was almost driven mad by it. She shifted under him, dug her fingers into that smooth, hard flesh, and he eased his way back up her body until he was looking down into her eyes.

  “Tyler, please—” She’d waited so long, so long, and she wanted it to be now.

  “Are you sure?” He stroked his hand over her hair, her cheek, cupped her face so she couldn’t hide from him, and she thrilled in the knowledge that his hand wasn’t steady, that his control wasn’t as absolute as it se
emed.

  “Are you seriously asking me that?” She slid her hand over his shoulder, behind the strong column of his neck, into his silky hair. “I’ve wanted you forever. It’s always been you. Always.” She watched, heart racing as he reached for a condom from the drawer by the side of his bed. Of course, she thought, after Janet he wouldn’t want to take the risk.

  “Look at me.” His voice was a soft command, and she opened her eyes and met the blue blaze of his. Their legs were tangled; she felt the brush of rough hair against the sensitive flesh of her thigh and the solid weight of him as he lay, trapping her with the power of his body. And then he shifted position, and she felt the heat of him, the thickness and the hard pressure, and she knew there was no stopping, no turning back. This was it. It was finally going to happen, and it didn’t seem real because in all her dreams it had been him, always him, this man, and finally her dreams were merging with reality.

  “Tyler—” She breathed his name again, dizzy with anticipation, drugged by sensation so acute, she felt as if she’d explode with wanting.

  Her hands moved down his back, over hard muscle and satin-smooth skin, exploring every contour of his body. She felt him lift her, felt heat and power and masculine thrust as he entered her slowly, carefully, giving her time to adjust, watching her the whole time, forever changing their relationship with every intimacy he stole. She didn’t know she was holding her breath until he murmured, “Breathe, sweetheart,” and then she snatched in air, holding his gaze as she felt the thickness and power of him stretching her, filling her. She knew he was holding back. She could see it in the glitter of his eyes and the streak of color on his cheekbones. It touched her that he’d be so careful, and she lifted her hand and touched his face, feeling the roughness of his jaw against the softness of her hand.

  “Tyler—”

  “You’re beautiful.” He murmured the words against her mouth. “I’ve never said that to you before, and I should have. You’re so beautiful.”

  She knew she wasn’t, but he made her believe it with the sincerity of his voice and the look in his eyes, and she knew she’d never feel as deeply connected to another person as she did right at that moment.

  “I love you.” The words slipped out of her as her feelings spilled over, her emotions too full to be contained. “I love you so much. I always have. My whole life.”

  “Bren.” He groaned her name and slid his hand under her, thrusting deep, and she held still for a moment, feeling her body tighten around the thickness of him, and then he was moving with a raw, primitive rhythm that sent her excitement levels rocketing off the scale. Wrapping her legs around him, she lifted into each thrust, felt him adjust the angle to increase the pleasure. She cried out, unable to stop herself, and he lowered his mouth to hers, swallowing the sound, taking everything she was offering so freely. He was buried deep inside her, and she moaned again because something he was doing felt unbelievably good, and she felt the hot ripples of pleasure spread through her body. She heard the possessive purr that came from somewhere deep in his throat, heard him mutter something under his breath, and then her body tightened around his, drawing him to the same place until there was no holding back for either of them and they came together, the pleasure thick and intoxicating, flooding both of them until neither could breathe or move.

  He dropped his head to her shoulder, fighting for breath, holding her tightly. Her arms stayed around him. She felt slick skin and strength, the steady thud of his heart and thought dreams can come true.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  TYLER WOKE TO FIND her body curled against his.

  He lay still, adjusting to the strange and unfamiliar experience of having a woman in his bed at Lake House. And not any woman.

  Brenna.

  His best friend. Except that what they shared could no longer be defined as friendship, could it? They were lovers. And he wasn’t stupid enough to think that didn’t change everything.

  He’d done the one thing he’s sworn he would never do.

  I love you, Tyler.

  Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he eased away from her, drenched in panic and regret. He had no doubt that those words had been heartfelt and genuine. He’d always known that about her, which was why he’d been careful to avoid this situation. He couldn’t be what she wanted.

  So what was he doing here?

  The moment she’d said those words to him in the den, he should have walked out of the room.

  He should have explained that he wasn’t capable of giving her what she wanted.

  Anything.

  The only thing he shouldn’t have done was take her to bed.

  Had she noticed that he hadn’t said it back?

  What happened now?

  Where did they go from here, and what would happen to the friendship they’d shared their whole lives?

  This was his fault. He’d sat with her and spilled his guts, shared parts of himself he’d never shared with anyone before, and she’d done the same. For once in her life she’d spoken the truth, and that truth had snapped the strained leash on his self-control.

  Unable to think clearly with her lying next to him, he slid out of bed and walked silently to the bathroom. Through the windows he could see the snow still falling, and it lay thick and deep over the trees and the forest trail. It showed all the signs of being a perfect powder day. Normally, he would have been hammering on her door, tempting her out before the rest of the world awoke but not this time.

  Tyler ran his hand over his face.

  He was afraid to wake her. Afraid to face what he’d done to their relationship.

  He swore under his breath and stared at his reflection in the mirror. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Why are you an idiot?”

  He met Brenna’s eyes in the mirror and saw her expression change from soft to wary.

  She’d tugged on his blue shirt, and he found it endearing that she’d be shy with him, that she felt the need to cover herself after the intimacies they’d shared the night before. But it didn’t surprise him, because he knew her and knew exactly how she’d react in any situation.

  “Brenna.” What was he supposed to say? This was new territory for him. He couldn’t walk away. He couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened.

  He had to deal with it. Usually, he had no trouble speaking his mind, but right now, he didn’t know his mind.

  He turned, wishing he had Sean’s smooth way with words or Jackson’s natural diplomacy.

  “You regret it, don’t you?” Her voice was flat, her arms wrapped around herself, giving the comfort he should have been offering. “You’re sorry, and you wish you could turn the clock back.”

  Did he wish that?

  He didn’t know, but the delay in answering condemned him.

  There was a flash of pain in her eyes, and then she turned away. Tyler ran his hand over the back of his neck, out of his depth.

  “Brenna, sweetheart, wait—”

  “For what? For you to find a tactful way to tell me you made a mistake? Forget it.” She grabbed her clothes from the floor and pulled them on, her movements ragged and uneven, her dark hair falling forward in a messy tumble. It didn’t help to know he was the one responsible for that glorious disarray. His fingers, his mouth, the movement of her body under his.

  He wanted to grab her, and he wanted to let her go.

  He wanted to strip off that blue shirt and feel her naked under him again and at the same time, he didn’t want to touch her.

  Never in his life had he felt this conflicted. Until now, his liaisons with women had been short and brutally uncomplicated.

  “Look, last night we talked about a lot of stuff. We were both saying things we’d never said before.” He raked his fingers through his hair, feeling clumsy. “I value our friendship. I don’t want t
o lose that.” He saw her pause in the doorway. Saw her knuckles whiten as she gripped the door handle so tightly, it was a wonder she didn’t wrench it from the wood. “We have a great relationship, and I don’t want that to change.”

  Slowly, she released the door handle. Breathed.

  “Everything has already changed.”

  And she walked out of the room without a backward glance.

  * * *

  WHY HAD SHE told him how she felt?

  She wanted to rewind the clock and take it all back.

  Brenna stumbled through the snow feeling the cold and the snow seep through her clothing. Somehow she reached Elizabeth’s house and as she opened the door, she heard female laughter coming from the kitchen.

  “So I said to him, ‘you have to be kidding. There is no way I can get you an interview until—’” Kayla broke off as she saw Brenna. “Hi! You didn’t answer my text so I wasn’t sure if you were coming. I thought—crap, what’s wrong?” She was on her feet in a moment and so was Elizabeth while Élise stood, her hand locked around the pan as she stared at Brenna’s face.

  “Merde, what happened?”

  “Oh, your hands are freezing! Why aren’t you wearing a coat! And gloves?” Elizabeth took her hands and rubbed them between her own. “There is more than a foot of new snow out there, and the paths aren’t even cleared yet. Look at you—you’re covered in it.” She brushed it off gently and steered Brenna to a chair at the table. “Are you ill? Élise will make tea. It’s gentler on the stomach than coffee.”

  Élise gave her a look. “I do not know how to make good tea! I am not British. Kayla can make it.” But she looked worried as she watched Brenna sit down. “Merde, you are pâle comme un fantôme.”

  “She’s what?” Kayla looked at her, confused, and Élise shrugged.

  “Pale as a ghost.”

  “Then say ‘pale as a ghost’!” Kayla spread her hands in exasperation. “I can’t translate French this early in the morning.”

  “You can’t translate French at any time of the day. You have no idea how exhausting it is to always be in someone else’s language. I can never properly be me.”