by Robin Weaver
He forced his mind to focus on her, not on the steadily increasing ache in his groin. Instead of touching her there, he stopped his hand and bit gently on a nipple.
“You’re driving me crazy,” she whispered.
“Only fair.” His fingers toyed with the downy hair just below her bikini line. “You’ve been driving me crazy for days.”
She reached for him, pulling his leg against her thigh. He pulled his hips away, intent on pummeling her senses before he even considered unwrapping his own Christmas present.
Damn but she was sexy. She oozed sex. He catalogued the moment in his brain. He’d never be able to think of the holidays without remembering her face.
She took his cheeks between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “What the ho-ho, Spence? Is it going to take you as long to take me as it did to deliver my Dresden ornaments?”
He growled, not recognizing his own voice. “I’ll give you long, sweetheart.”
He reached for the scissors.
“You wouldn’t dare?”
“Oh, but I would.” Despite her protest, he didn’t think she’d care. The pants couldn’t be expensive and they didn’t look exactly new. Besides, what did a little flannel covered with reindeer matter in the grand scheme of Holidays Present?
“Don’t you dare.”
He wasn’t keen on having the point of the scissors, even dull ones, near her sex. He reached for the waistband, pulling it as far as he could away from her skin. And snipped.
“You didn’t.” Her mouth formed a large “O.”
“I did.” He grinned, taking the two edges and ripping the fabric down the center.
“Spencerton James. How dare you?” Maybe it was wistful thinking, but she seemed as pleased as she was horrified.
She yanked back, trying to sit. “Just let me...” And slammed her foot on the chair. “Ow, Ow...Ouch!”
“Suze, are you all right?” The scissors clattered to the floor.
He froze, listening. Shit, wouldn’t do to wake his dad.
For an eternity of seconds, they both waited. Suzette must have held her breath, too, because he didn’t even hear an exhale.
Finally, a sound. The faint echo of his dad’s snoring.
Suzette giggled.
“What’s so funny, missy?”
She laughed harder.
He wanted to join the merriment, but the call of vanilla and the spicy scent of her goodies demanded all his attention. “You won’t be laughing long, princess.”
Still grinning, she asked, “Why not?”
“Because I want to do this.”
Without waiting for a reply, he pulled her thong aside and delved his tongue into her. Definitely the most delicious holiday treat.
Ever.
****
Yes! Mother of all Sugarplums, yes.
Suzette blinked, trying to orient her brain without losing the floaty feeling. Dazzling sensations coursed through her body. Spence had always had a clever mouth, she just hadn’t expected those same lips to make her jingle all the way.
All the way to paradise. Twice.
“Wow.” She was in trouble.
The two of us hadn’t been really together for a long time. When Spence talked about his New York girlfriend he’d said they weren’t “really” together. He hadn’t said they weren’t together.
What an inopportune time to remember that. Still, she’d know they could only have one night. Two at most.
So why not enjoy the sleigh ride? She could worry about the Spence hangover later.
As if reading her mind, he applied pressure to her tongue-sensitized center with his thumb while he fondled her with his fingers. She shot off into the stratosphere again, easily passing the North Pole.
She closed her eyes, clearing her mind so she could enjoy every contraction as pleasure slammed into her body. The action re-ignited her lust. A myriad of pleasures assaulted her oversaturated senses. Through the haze, she became aware of Spence’s hardness straining against her leg. His length registered in her brain.
When she returned from her trip to the heavens, she sat, wrapping her hands around his neck. “Let me return the favor.”
“What about your ankle?” He tried to pull away, but she held tight, pressing her body against him.
He was so hard. Fabulously, fa-la-la-la hard. And she wanted him inside her. “You let me worry about my ankle.”
“You sure?”
She kissed him on the mouth, amazed at her boldness. “Never been surer.”
“Okay. Can you lay back on the bed?”
She complied, holding her ankle in the air. “How’s this?”
“Better than Christmas.”
She grinned, feeling very naughty. “Better wrap that present first.”
“Huh?”
She watched his beautiful face, seeing the exact moment when his brain comprehended.
“Oh. Be right back.”
After an eternity, or at least thirty seconds later, her returned, condom in hand. He hurriedly shed his jeans and sheathed his hardness.
He glanced at her ankle. “You sure about this, sugar? As much as I want you, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Shut up.” She spread her legs and pulled him toward her.
She watched him swallow. Then, he thrust inside her.
Again and again.
She was on The Polar Express. Headed straight back to heaven.
Until she decided to wrap her legs around his back. Her ankle hurt like hell. “Ow. Scrooge of all Scrooges.”
Spence paused. “What’s wrong? Is it—”
She reached up and covered his mouth with her hand. “Don’t you dare stop.”
He nodded, but didn’t move. She reached for his buttocks and pulled him toward her.
That’s all it took to get the big engine that could chugging again. After a few seconds, it wasn’t the ankle that made her see stars.
Chapter Twelve
I Saw Mommy Kissing Spence Claus
Spence watched the clock, willing it to turn six. Since the horrible day when Suzette had torn the tendons in her ankle, he’d started to feel...well, he’d definitely tapped into the holiday spirit.
He and his father had talked, probably for the first time since he’d been in Scouts. And Suzette...
Damn, she’d grown up beautiful.
He also knew Suzette’s foot was better, but she still pretended to be lame. Unlike the situation with his father, her pretense thrilled him. Could she possibly be prolonging her stay to hang out with him?
God, he hoped so.
“The hell with it.”
He leaped over the counter, catching sight of an antique Christmas angel strategically positioned to catch a customer’s attention.
Landing on the other side, he grinned. “Okay. To heck with it.”
He flipped the sign to “Closed” and locked up. He made several stops on his way home—correction, to his dad’s home. By the time he reached the front door, he had two bags—Mr. Chung’s superb egg drop soup and a very good bottle of Moscato. For good measure, he purchased a bouquet of daisies—too soon for roses.
He found himself humming Let It Snow as he raced up the stairs of his dad’s Victorian. Something he hadn’t done since, well never.
Before he could insert the key, his dad flung open the door. “You should have told me. I feel so selfish son, keeping you away from that sweet girl.”
Could a heart attack affect a man’s brain? His father made no sense. Keeping him away? His old man had actually brought Suzette and him together. Well, almost.
“Spency, baby.” Before he could react, Darlene flung herself at him, crushing the box of soup he’d coddled for three blocks.
“Darlene? What are you doing here?” She’d told him she wouldn’t be caught dead in “Drearyville.” Hell, he could barely get her to leave Manhattan for a Yankees game.
His father patted him on the back again. “Congratulations, Son.” He chuckled. “All I can s
ay is my grandbaby is going to be a handsome fellow.”
Darlene laughed as if she’d never heard anything funnier. This from a woman who declared all children “abominations five years away from human.” And didn’t his dad have a clue about Suzette?
Somehow, he managed to get inside without raising his voice—mainly because he didn’t speak. He glanced from his father, who seemed far too happy, to his girlfriend, who wore her master-manipulator face.
“Dad, can I talk to Darlene alone?”
“There’s plenty of time...Oh.” His old man winked at Darlene and then took the bags from him. “I’ll just take these to the kitchen.”
He waited until his father disappeared. Knowing the old man would probably eavesdrop, he tugged on Darlene. He led her to his room and slammed the door.
“Ooh, I’m rather liking this caveman act.” She planted a wet kiss on his mouth. Very wet.
“Stop.” He managed to hold her at arm’s length—barely. “Why are you here and why is my dad talking about congratulations and grandchildren?” He didn’t think he’d like the answer.
“Well, sweetie, you did say we could get married someday if I’d agree to live in your hometown.”
“What?” He racked his brain, wondering what the hell...oh, reindeer balls. He had a vague recollection of saying something similar when Darlene asked him when they were getting married. His response had been the easy way out. The Darlene he knew would never move to Drearyville, rather Merryvale.
“Hold on, Darlene. You refused to even come down for a weekend visit. Now you’re going to live here?”
“Of course, sweetie. I missed you.” She leaned in closer. “Then we have this other issue.”
“Other issue?” The only issue he saw was getting Darlene on the first plane back to New York. And explaining to Suzette.
Suzette. Ah, shit.
Darlene rubbed her stomach. “Baby, you know I never wanted this. And since I’m so irregular, I didn’t think anything about a missed period.”
Holy holly berries. He sank down on the bed. She couldn’t be saying what he thought she was saying.
Not possible. “Hold on. We haven’t had sex in...”
Darlene climbed on top of him, straddling him with her long legs. And putting her boots on the bed. “I know. Seems like forever, right?” She smiled seductively, grinding her skinny ass against his cock. “Another reason I didn’t think anything about missing period number two.” She frowned at him. “And number three. You should be ashamed of yourself, Spence James. Knocking me up without giving me any fun. Maybe we should make up for lost time.”
She gave him a push. The unexpected shove had him on his back.
What the hell? Darlene hadn’t played the sex kitten in...at least a year.
He managed to extract his lips and hold her away from his chest. “Darlene, you can’t seriously expect me to believe you’re pregnant with my baby. I’ve been here for two months. You refused to cancel your last business trip so we haven’t had sex in...”
He tried to remember.
Darlene flattened her chest against him, giving him an ample view of her cleavage. And Suzette thought Katarina’s boobs looked fake?
Suzette. Shit.
“We had some fun before your big presentation for that building, remember? The first week in September. I’m almost four months knocked up, lover. And it’s all your fault.”
Something wasn’t right. Why wasn’t she angrier?
Her lies fueled something inside him. He twisted abruptly, lifting her aside so he could stand. “This isn’t funny.”
She sighed. “I figured you’d say something like that. So I brought this.”
Darlene stood up and walked to his dresser. Opening a drawer, she pulled out a piece of paper.
She’d put stuff in his dresser?
He glanced at the paper, not sure what he was supposed to see. “It’s been a long day. Just tell me.”
“It’s the results of my pregnancy test. I didn’t believe it either. And by the time I went to the doctor, it was too late.”
Double shit. “Darlene, I’m...”
“Please don’t say you’re sorry. And for God’s sake, do not ask me to take a paternity test. You may have had a little tramp installed in your bedroom, but I’ve been loyal.”
He sank down on the bed. Shit. The situation was his fault as much as Darlene’s. Maybe more. “I’m sorry. Just give me a minute to get my head around this.”
She gave a little sniff. Once upon a time, her fake crying had been kinda cute. Now, it just sucked.
“I guess it’s official.” He tried to smile, but couldn’t find anything worth smiling about. Still, no child of his would grow up without two parents if he had any say in the situation. “We’re engaged.”
He had to do the right thing.
Chapter Thirteen
Winter Wonder Lines
Suzette couldn’t stop crying. The sixteen messages from Tripp only made her sob louder.
How could she have fallen for Spence James? Again? She’d vowed she’d honor the one-night stand rules, but after one night turned into two, and then three, who could blame a girl for getting snowflakes in her eyes?
In high school, he’d broken her heart when he moved away. Moronic masochist that she was, she’d let him do it again. If she looked up Class “A” Fool in the dictionary, there would surely be a picture of her.
The ding-dong of her doorbell stopped her in mid-reach for a tissue. Maybe Spence had come to say it was all a mistake—say he had no idea why some New York snob insisted she was his fiancée.
She waddled to the door and peered through the peephole. Tripp.
Oh Happy Christmas. She couldn’t face him, yet how could she not. She hadn’t even had the decency to cancel their date. After she’d messed up her ankle, she’d left a message with Kaley at the coffee shop.
She wiped at her eyes again, which didn’t help because the tissue was soaked with the output from her tear ducts. Then, she pasted on an elfin smile and flung open the door. “Tripp, hi.”
“Hey. So glad you’re home. I’m really having a hard time with this script and the play’s tomorrow night, and...Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I’m okay.” And she would be. In twenty-five years or so.
He nodded, too. “Good, cause I really need your help.”
She gave him a weak smile. Tripp didn’t mean to be indifferent—unlike some people she knew—he was just panicked. If his wild eyes hadn’t given him away, the rumpled papers in his hand, along with the way he kept squeezing the pages, would have clued her in to his pending freak out.
“Take it easy, Tripp. I’ll read to you and you can repeat them after me. I’m sure we can get your lines memorized in no time.”
“Oh, God. Thank you.” He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her with the strength of the truly needy.
She herded him toward the kitchen and made two cups of tea. With great reluctance, she resisted adding a double shot of vodka to hers. She put the cap back on the bottle, then changed her mind and added a single shot. After all, she didn’t have to memorize shit.
Besides, she really was being disciplined. After the sucker punch to her heart delivered by Ms. New York, rather by the fiancé of Ms. New York, she really wanted the rest of the bottle.
She put the cap on the liquor, thankful for the distraction. At least Katarina Snodgrass no longer ranked as the number one bane of her existence.
Sitting down at the table, she picked up the script. “I’ll read the entire play. When a line is yours, I’ll tell you and you can repeat it.” Without giving him time to respond, she started reading. “The scene opens in the shop of Scrooge and Marley.”
Suzette didn’t pause until Scrooge’s first line. “This is your line Tripp: ‘Crachit! What on earth are you doing wasting my time conversing with these little brats?’”
Tripp repeated his passages like a trained parrot. At times, he’d repeat a line two or three tim
es. Suzette didn’t care. The autopilot activity was just what she needed.
By the time she’d finished the entire play once, Suzette felt better. “Ready to go again?”
“No, I think I got it.”
She didn’t see how. She knew he needed help reading. “I don’t mind.”
“No, really, I have a good memory.”
“Good memory? You’re not saying you’ve memorized all your lines.”
“Pretty much. When you’re...Eh, in my line of business you have to learn fast.”
“You mean when you have trouble reading the script, you have to compensate, Tripp? Why don’t you just tell people you have a reading disability?”
He blinked at her, his handsome face filled with something close to horror. “You know?”
She nodded. “I’ve known since high school.”
Tripp blinked. “You have? Of course you have. That’s why you read aloud during...Thanks.”
She nodded. “You know, they’ve made advances. It’s possible you can actually overcome your issues with printed words.”
He shrugged. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? I’ve been to several doctors but none of the techniques that work for dyslexics work for me.”
She nodded. At least he’d tried.
He gave her the smile the camera loved. “I keep hoping though.”
“Why didn’t you say anything while you were in school, Tripp? Everyone loved you, they would have helped.”
He snorted. “Yeah, right. Instead of Tripp the Triple Threat I would have been Tripp the Moron.”
She started to object, but closed her mouth. Funny how the town made people insecure. Both Tripp and Spence were superstars, but neither felt comfortable showing his true self in Merryvale.
“If you need to go through the play again, let me know.”
Tripp flashed his movie star smile. “If I pretend to need help, will you go over the scenes with me over dinner?”
Chapter Fourteen
Nuttin’ for Christmas, Except Heartache
Spence shook his head. Funny how a life could change in the blink of an eye. Had it been only two days ago he’d been happy? Truly happy for the first time in years?