Christmas Down Under: Six Sexy New Zealand & Australian Christmas Romances

by Rosalind James

  She was too nervous to smile. Owen turned to face her and tipped his head to the side. “Have you changed your mind? Do you want to go?”

  Skye looked up into his eyes. Although she’d been truthful when she’d admitted she’d slept around a bit when she was younger, once she’d met Matt she’d stayed faithful to him, and since they’d broken up over a year ago, she’d been celibate. In fact, she’d completely shut off all thoughts of romance, deciding after her separation that she didn’t want to open herself up to heartache again, at least not for a long time. The thought now of being intimate with the sexy guy before her almost made her knees shake, but equally, she longed for him, desperate to kiss him, to feel his hot skin against hers.

  So even though her heart raced and her mouth went dry, she took a sip of her whisky and gave a little shake of her head.

  “Good,” Owen murmured, following it with a big swallow from his glass. He moved closer to her and raised his free hand to cup her head. “Because you’re so fucking sexy, if you’d said no, I might have cried.”

  She gave a relieved little laugh, but before she could say anything his lips were on hers, and she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the kiss.

  She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. He hardly knew her, and she’d gone to his house and offered herself to him for the night, so it was clear she wasn’t expecting romance, or long and drawn out lovemaking. She thought he might rip off her clothes, throw her onto the floor, and do her there, and part of her even hoped for it. Hard and fast sex would satisfy the craving inside her without adding any emotional complication, and afterward she could get up and walk out without a second thought, without worrying she’d broken his heart.

  But as if he was afraid of frightening her off, he made no sudden moves. For a long while, he just stood there and kissed her, his lips travelling up her cheekbone and along to her ear, where they paused to nibble, his tongue lifting her lobe into his mouth for a gentle suck. She shivered, and he chuckled, grazing his lips down her jaw and back to her mouth for a leisurely kiss before doing the same the other side.

  Skye began to feel as if she were descending into a dream state, the world around her growing fuzzy and out of focus. It couldn’t be the alcohol because she’d only had a couple of glasses of wine while she was eating, and the ice cubes had watered the splash of whisky down. It was more like the air around her was thin, as if she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Owen filled all her senses—all she could feel, smell, and taste was him.

  He took another mouthful from his glass, gestured for her to finish her small shot, then took both glasses to the kitchen counter. Returning, he moved her backward until her butt bumped against the edge of the large dining table that was currently covered with papers, folders, and pens. Swiping his arm across it, he sent the whole lot fluttering to the floor, startling Mozart in his bed.

  She laughed, biting her lip as he returned with a smirk to press up close to her, pinning her against the table. After giving her a brief kiss, he dropped to his haunches before her and lifted one of her feet onto his lap.

  Working on her ankle strap, he loosened it, then slid the sandal off and placed it to one side. Lifting her foot, he massaged it in his warm hands and dropped his head to place a kiss on her toes before lowering it to the ground.

  Skye let him lift her other foot, watching as he did the same, removing her sandal and placing it with the other one. She shivered at the sensual touch of his strong hands as they massaged. Then he stood again, and this time—quite a bit shorter than him without her heels—she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze.

  As he kissed her, his fingers dropped to the button of her trousers, and within seconds he’d undone both that and the zipper, and the material slipped down her legs to the floor. She stepped out of them and nudged them to one side, her heart hammering at the thought of standing there almost naked before him.

  Tucking his fingers into the edges of her panties, he drew them down her legs, let her step out of them, and dropped them on top of her trousers.

  He rose to stand before her, resting his hands on her hips. Brushing his lips against hers, curving them in a slight smile, he traced light patterns on her skin, over her hips and around to her bare bottom. He didn’t investigate further, though, just skated his fingers across her before lifting them to slide beneath her silky top.

  Behind her back, he unclipped her bra. Then he moved his fingers up her arms to catch the straps and draw them down and over her hands one at a time. Finally, he slipped a hand under the top to take the bra, remove it, and drop it on top of the rapidly-growing pile on the floor.

  By now, all she wore was the silky top, and her puzzlement as to why he hadn’t removed it disappeared when he lifted both hands to stroke over her breasts, gliding easily over the slippery fabric.

  “You like silk?” she murmured.

  “Mmm.” He cupped her breasts, kept his gaze on hers, and stroked his thumbs across the tips. It was warm in the apartment, and up until then her nipples had been relaxed and soft, but as he teased them, they tightened, and she closed her eyes and sighed.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He stroked down her body. “So soft and smooth.”

  She opened her eyes and tugged at his T-shirt. “Don’t I get to have the same fun?”

  Grinning, he grabbed a handful of material at the nape of his neck and pulled the T-shirt off. Skye’s eyes widened at the sight of his toned, tanned body, the muscles tight and defined, the tattoo snaking around his biceps. “Nice,” she said, breathless. Placing both hands on his chest, she brushed her thumbs across the scattering of brown hair.

  He wore a necklace, a slim silver chain with a pendant. It looked like a St. Christopher, but when she examined it closely, it wasn’t the man who had carried Jesus across a river, but it had a saint with a halo holding a child in his arms, and it bore the words “St. Anthony, Pray for us.”

  She looked up quizzically.

  “He’s the patron saint of finding lost people.” Owen smiled.

  “Oh. It’s lovely.” She rubbed her thumb across it. She liked that he found lost people. It made her feel safe.

  He cupped her face, lifted it, and studied her for a moment, his eyes filled with tenderness and more than a little heat. Then he lowered his lips and kissed her.

  Chapter Eight

  Skye closed her eyes as Owen trailed his lips down her neck to her breast. She fell back onto her elbows, and gave a deep groan when his mouth closed over a nipple through the thin silky top. He teased the nipple to a tight peak with his tongue, then sucked, making her clench deliciously inside.

  Swapping to the other nipple, he did the same, and when she raised her head, the sight of her taut nipples protruding through the wet fabric of the top was one of the most erotic things she’d ever seen.

  “Owen…”

  He leaned over her, his mouth hot and wet as it claimed hers, and she lifted her hips to his as he pressed against her, his erection rubbing against her mound through his jeans. His skin was warm, his muscles firm, and she slid a hand into his hair and tightened her fingers in the long, silky strands. He wanted her, and God, she wanted him. She ached to have him inside her, and she was already close to a climax.

  He gestured for her to move up the table a little, and she shifted a few inches, wondering what he was up to. The puzzle was solved when he kissed down her stomach, parted her legs, and ran his tongue along the inside of her thigh. There he paused, moving both hands to spread her before lowering his mouth and sliding his tongue into her folds.

  Skye sank back and raised her arms across her face, gasping at the sensation of the wet warmth. It had been so long since a man had done this for her, and she’d forgotten how heavenly it was.

  Slowly, as if now he’d got what he wanted he was determined to make it last as long as he could, Owen explored her with his tongue and fingers. He licked her all the way up to her clit, then swirled his tongue around the sensitive button while he sank two finge
rs inside her. Skye moaned, spiraling out of control. His firm touch, his insistent tongue, sent everything tightening inside, and not even a minute passed before she clenched around him, gasping with the strength of the blissful pulses.

  As they faded away, he lifted up and leaned over her, nudged her arm up from her face with his nose, and kissed her.

  “I can smell myself,” she complained when he lifted his head.

  “Lovely, isn’t it?” He pulled her up to a sitting position. “That was the first course. Now we can proceed to the main.” He extracted his wallet from his back pocket and took out a condom.

  “Wait.” She gestured to where she’d left her handbag on the kitchen counter. “Can you pass me that?”

  He did so, raising an eyebrow. She took out a smaller bag from inside, unzipped it, and took out a condom. “Latex free,” she explained. “I’m allergic.”

  “Ah. Good call.” He tore off the wrapper. “Thank God you had some.”

  “They’ve been in there a while,” she said shyly.

  He smiled, obviously liking what that inferred, and slid a finger beneath her chin to tip her head back before lowering his lips to hers. His kisses were heavenly, sensual and heartfelt, and by the time he drew back and unzipped his jeans, she was more than ready for him.

  Releasing himself from his boxers, he rolled on the condom, then moved closer to her until the tip of his erection parted her inner lips. “Ready?” he murmured. “You’re sure?”

  Loving that he’d bothered to ask, she nodded. He pushed his hips forward and slid a little way inside her.

  They both groaned. Skye leaned back on her hands, eyes closed, reveling in the feel of him so thick and hard, stretching and filling her. His hands resting on her hips, he pulled back and pushed forward again, and this time, lubricated with her moisture, he slid all the way in.

  “Ohhh…” Her face grew warm as blood surged around her body, while her nipples hardened and her clit throbbed. Feeling his hands at the base of her top, she lifted her arms so he could take it off, leaving her completely naked.

  She opened her eyes to look up at him, melting at the desire on his face as his gaze caressed her body.

  To her surprise, he shook his head. “Not here.” He moved his hands beneath her and lifted her easily, wrapping her legs around his waist. “I want you in my bed.”

  She wasn’t about to argue. “Okay.”

  He turned and carried her carefully across the room to the doorway on the other side, planting soft kisses as he walked. Skye moved her hips, grinding against him, and tightened her internal muscles experimentally. He groaned. “Jeez.”

  “Mmm, you feel good,” she murmured, sinking her fingers into his hair and kissing him again.

  “Mmph.” He stopped, opening his mouth and kissing her deeply until she lifted her head.

  “Worried you’ll walk into the wall?” she teased.

  “I’m more concerned my jeans are going to fall down and trip me up.”

  Laughing, she tightened her legs around his hips to hold them up, and he continued on into the bedroom.

  “Sorry about the mess,” he said huskily. “I didn’t expect to be bringing a beautiful woman back here tonight.”

  Pleased he’d called her beautiful, she shook her head. “I don’t care.” And she didn’t. It wasn’t that bad, anyway—the bedroom also looked out onto the deck and was filled with evening sunshine. He’d straightened the duvet with its plain cream cover, and although a few items of clothing lay scattered across it, the room was hardly a pig sty.

  Still inside her, he walked to the glass doors and opened them a little, letting the sounds and smells of the early evening filter into the room. Then he went back to the bed, bent and caught hold of the duvet, and tossed it onto the floor.

  Finally, he climbed onto the mattress, lowered her onto her back, and stretched out on top of her.

  “Very smooth.” She pushed up her hips and wriggled to get comfortable beneath him. “You didn’t drop me once.”

  “I know. How cool am I?” When she’d settled, he gave her a long, slow kiss as he began to move inside her with leisurely thrusts.

  “Mmm…” She ran her hands down his back, enjoying the bunch and flex of his muscles. “You’re so gorgeous.”

  “The feeling’s mutual.” He bent his head and covered her nipple with his mouth, sucking it to a tight peak, then doing the same to the other one. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you look even better with your clothes off.”

  She laughed, adoring his sense of humor, conscious he was trying to relax her. She hadn’t expected this. She’d thought it would be a quick, hard fuck, passionate to be sure, but ultimately physical, just mutual gratification between two people who’d met fleetingly like ships that had happened to pull into a harbor at the same time. Instead, he was making love to her, slowly and sensually, completely in control of her arousal.

  “Are you normally like this?” she whispered, intrigued.

  He lifted his head to look at her, still moving. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” She ran her nails slowly down his back. “Tender. Gentle.”

  “Is that a complaint?” His eyelids lowered a fraction, and he gave a sudden, hard thrust, burying himself inside her.

  She gasped. “No! That is, I… Oh…”

  He chuckled and kissed around to her ear. “Are you trying to tell me you like it rough, Skye Graham?” Continuing down her neck, he sucked where her pulse beat.

  Groaning, she dug her fingers into his back. “No… Yes… I don’t know…”

  He nuzzled her ear again, running his hand down her thigh to her knee and pushing it up so he could slide deeper into her. “Patience,” he murmured. “Why do you want to rush it?”

  “I don’t, I…” It was becoming difficult to concentrate. With every thrust, he ground against her clit, and pleasure was building in her abdomen again.

  “Hmm, either you’re incredibly responsive, or it’s been a helluva long time since you’ve had sex.” Holding her tightly, he rolled onto his back and pushed her up so she sat astride him. “Try this. Plus, bonus effect—I get to watch you.”

  She linked their fingers, giving him a wry smile. “You like that?”

  “There’d be something wrong with me if I didn’t.” His gaze ran down her, hot as lava, lingering on her breasts, her waist, and admiring the sight of himself moving inside her.

  She rocked her hips, enjoying being able to control the speed of their movements. At this angle, he was no longer arousing her so directly, but she was so swollen and wet, every thrust of him inside her made it harder to hold on.

  Leaning forward, she kissed him, concentrating on the taste of him, the feel of his tongue sliding against hers, the tingle it gave her when his teeth scraped across her lip. He wanted to take it slow, and although her body urged her to race toward fulfilment, she fought it, also wishing this blissful build up could go on forever. Orgasms were wonderful, but this gradual, deliberate blossoming of sensation took some beating. When she was younger, sex had always been about finding the quickest way to a climax, and although she’d been fond of Matt, he had been uninspiring in the bedroom. She was both excited and touched that Owen wanted to do more than thrust himself to a finish—that he seemed just as intent on giving her pleasure as obtaining it himself.

  He held her hips, pushing up hard, then encouraged her to rock slowly, giving a satisfied grunt every time he went deep. “I love this position,” he said, cupping her breasts and rubbing his thumbs across her nipples. “You look fantastic.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You have the most glorious breasts.”

  She laughed, still moving her hips. “It’s very nice of you to say so.”

  His lips curved. “Well, you have. They’re generous and yet high and firm… And I love these.” He plucked her nipples. “I could play with them all day.”

  “You carry on like that, I won’t last another minute.”

  He
met her gaze, and again she felt it—that indefinable tug inside that went so much deeper than a mere exchange of glances, as if they were bound by an invisible thread that tightened every time their eyes met.

  “You get me right here when you look at me like that.” Owen placed a hand above his navel, over his solar plexus.

  Skye paused her movements, stunned he’d felt the same visceral pull. “Owen, I…” She bit her lip. She wanted to tell him not to say things like that because it was only going to make things worse when she left, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Almost certainly, she was being foolish in thinking this was anything more than a quick fuck he’d forget as soon as she walked out of the door, but it was nice to pretend for a moment this meeting was written in the stars, and the pull she felt when he looked at her meant there was something special between them.

  Placing his arms around her, he lifted her and turned her onto her back again. “No sadness,” he scolded, “not in here.”

  She smiled. How strange he could seem to read her thoughts. “Sorry.”

  Holding onto the condom, he slid out of her. She was just about to complain when he gestured with a finger in a circle. “On your front,” he said softly. Her eyes widened, and he grinned. “Did you think I’d forgotten?”

  Of course—she’d told him her favorite position was being taken from behind. Cheeks flushing, she rolled over, and he moved on top of her.

  “Slowly now,” he murmured, moving up her knee and maneuvering himself between her legs. Supporting himself either side of her shoulders, he moved his hips until he could push the tip of his erection into her. “Ready?” Before she could answer, he thrust forward.

  She clutched at the pillow and groaned. He wasn’t a small man, and at this angle she felt filled to the brim.

  “Okay?” He kissed her neck.

  “Mmm.” She sighed and closed her eyes, her body stretching to accommodate him.

  He chuckled and set up a slow, regular rhythm. “I can see the benefits of this position too. Man, you feel good.”