Caught up in a tangle of hands, bodies, and lips, somehow they landed on the bed, Daniel pulling Clay on top of him. Straddling his thighs, Clay cupped Daniel’s face and kissed him with a rising hunger.
Giving himself over to Clay’s control, Daniel tried to keep his eyes open as he studied the colorful ink over Clay’s scar. Flowers, guns, vines blending into dog tags. Beautiful colors masking a dark memory. “You have so many tattoos,” he said between kisses.
“It’s a healthier addiction,” Clay joked, nipping at his neck.
That’s when Daniel saw it.
Flinching, he pushed on Clay so he could see better. He blinked several times.
“What’s wrong?” Clay asked, confused by Daniel’s sudden lack of involvement.
Over Clay’s heart were the initials DM.
“Is this…?” Daniel paused, not daring to believe. “Is this… me?”
Blushing a little, Clay met his gaze. Then he placed Daniel’s hand over his heart. “It’s right where you belong. Where you’ve always been.”
Clay tattooed my initials over his heart? “When did you do this?”
“Ten years ago. Maybe longer.”
“B-but, you… you didn’t,” he fumbled, unable to believe his ears or his eyes. “I was married. We couldn’t—”
Clay shook his head, face somber. “None of that mattered. I still loved you.”
As one they looked at the matching stockings, playfully bought with love and hope, then to the twin knives, together, finally, after all this time.
Reunited, just like them.
Swept up in sudden feeling, Daniel kissed him hard. “I never stopped loving you, Clay. Not once. Not ever.”
“There’s never been anyone but you, Danny,” he said, stroking Daniel’s face, running his hands through his hair.
“I love you, Clay.” He rested his hand on Clay’s shoulder above his initials. “I really do.”
Blue eyes stared at him, and Clay’s lips trembled. “I love you too.”
“There’s nothing keeping us apart anymore. It’s time to do this right. Open and honest. Like a real couple. I want you to meet my friends, my son….” Overcome, his words faded in and out. “I want… I want it all….”
And then Clay was pressing him to the bed. Clay buried his face in Daniel’s neck and bit down. Daniel cried out in surprise as a jolt of desire ricocheted throughout his body.
Damn, he’d missed Clay’s assertiveness.
Then the kissing and touching grew more insistent, Clay’s touch more aggressive. Daniel opened his legs and Clay slipped in between, their bodies rolling with light and love.
Still kissing him, Clay pushed up Daniel’s thigh and prodded his hole. Daniel shuddered.
“This is mine,” Clay declared, voice rough and commanding.
“Yes, it’s always been yours,” Daniel cried, caught up. “Yours! No one else’s.”
“No one else’s.”
Daniel could barely catch his breath, the wanting for Clay inside him so fierce. His pulse pounded in his ears, bang, bang. So hard, so loud.
Wait….
That wasn’t his pulse.
Daniel and Clay heard it at the same time.
Someone was knocking on the door.
“Daniel! You home?”
George started barking.
“Dammit,” Daniel cursed, he was so primed and ready that if they’d had thirty more seconds… you’d be answering the door covered in cum.
Probably not the best Christmas apparel.
Disentangling himself from Clay, he fumbled for his robe, cock aching. He gave his wanton lover an apologetic wince as he climbed off the bed. “Rain check?”
Clay rubbed his long solid cock in invitation. “I’m not going anywhere, Danny. Ever.”
The affection and conviction in those blue eyes made Daniel tremble. He bent over and gave Clay a quick kiss. “Get dressed.” He yanked his robe closed and hastened into the kitchen. “Coming,” he called as the knocking grew more insistent.
George was barking and prancing at the door. On the other side, Daniel saw the outline of a man. The voice calling out, “Daniel!” was familiar too.
When he threw open the door, his cousin—Gilead’s Sheriff Mark Bentley—stood on the threshold. Behind him, on one of two running ATVs, sat the man’s twelve-year-old son, Joey.
“Mark? Joey?” he questioned, looking between his two family members bundled up in warm coveralls, hats, and gloves. “What’s going on?”
“Merry Christmas,” Mark boomed. “Get your coat, you’re coming with us.”
“What?” Daniel shook his head. “Why are you on ATVs?”
“Since the bridge collapsed, we had to take the ATVs to get here.”
“The bridge collapsed?” Daniel repeated in shock. “What bridge? My bridge?”
“Yeah, the one over Swan Creek,” Mark said. “Guess you probably didn’t know with that storm last night, but a huge tree landed right smack in the middle of it around suppertime. All the pavement and half of the one side is in the creek.”
Daniel knew the rickety bridge he drove every day—his only way into town—was in need of repair, but he hadn’t thought it was so weak that a tree could take it out. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Not that we know of. I put up orange barricades yesterday after it happened. I would’ve driven over and told you… but the bridge is out.” He chuckled. “Went home to call you, but the phone lines are down. Bea wouldn’t let me ride out once the weather turned worse. Said you were smart enough to stay in your house during a blizzard and I should do the same.”
“The phones are down?”
“Where you been, Daniel?” his cousin joked.
“Distracted,” he said honestly, already dreading the paperwork to replace a bridge. And I’ll have to take my four-wheeler to work and cut through the Oberymeyers’ fields.
“You aren’t the only one distracted. Just now, Joey and I saw a car wrapped around a tree down the road a piece.”
“Anyone hurt?”
Mark’s lips pursed with worry. “No one was in the car. Hopefully no one wandered off into the storm.”
“Was it green?” Clay stepped out of the bedroom in nothing but his PJ bottoms. His tattoos shone bright and colorful in the light streaming through the windows.
Daniel only had eyes for the two tiny initials over his heart.
He’d often scolded himself for hanging on to Clay’s stocking, but Clay must’ve felt the same longing, remembered their time together with the same fondness. After all, he’d loved Daniel so much that he’d actually tattooed his initials over his heart. It made Daniel want to sing, laugh, and cry.
He hadn’t been this happy on Christmas morning in a long time.
Clay Fisher was in his house, and they were going to give their romance another chance. The time was right for them to finally be together.
His solider had finally come home to him.
Then Daniel realized his highly observant cousin could probably read the passion and hunger in Daniel’s expression, the puppy-love look in his eyes. Plus Mark knew Daniel only had one bedroom so he had to know what was going on. Not to mention Clay’s erection was still popping a tent in those thin cotton bottoms. Daniel’s belly trembled, but he blushed when Mark looked back and forth between them.
“Was what green?” Mark shook his head, responding to Clay’s question.
“The car,” Clay said. “Was it a green Malibu? That’s mine.”
“Yeah, it was a green Malibu,” Mark said, back to business. “Did you have any passengers?”
“Nope, just me.”
Mark made a whistling sound. “Glad we don’t have a victim out there.”
“It was a total whiteout last night,” Clay explained. “I was looking at my phone, trying to get the GPS directions to Danny’s, and I just drove right off the road.”
Mark’s brows shot up at the nickname.
“Mark,” Daniel began, his insides shak
ing just a little bit. Though Tracy outed him after the divorce, he’d never really verified it to his cousin, not that Mark ever would’ve asked. “This is Clay Fisher. We served together.”
“Nice to meet you. Thank you for your service.”
“No problem,” Clay responded.
Daniel looked between Mark and Clay and decided to lay all his cards out. He would never deny Clay again. Not to his friends, his family, or anyone in town. He loved Clay, and he would not hide their love.
I love Clay…. Just thinking it made his heart flutter in his chest.
Trying to sound casual, Daniel added, “We dated when we were younger, and um….” He glanced back at Clay, finding courage and love in those shocked blue eyes. “We got back together through Facebook, recently.”
“You won’t ever catch me on Facebook,” his cousin said, as if Daniel’s statement hadn’t surprised or bothered him. “Too much of my personal stuff is out there on the interweb already. Stuff I got no control over. I’m not adding to it with social media.”
Daniel chuckled at his cousin’s old-fashioned ways. Their mothers had been sisters, and Mark was only a few months older than Daniel, but he’d been an old man since he was thirty.
Smiling at Clay, their eyes met, and Daniel felt peace in his heart. All those fears he’d had about bringing Clay to Gilead when they’d been younger were a distant memory. When Clay mouthed the words “thank you,” Daniel beamed with happiness.
“Sorry you wrecked your car,” Mark offered.
“Me too,” Clay agreed. “Probably would’ve been a goner if the mailman hadn’t given me a lift to Danny’s.”
Daniel shook his head. Clay hadn’t mentioned a mailman giving him a lift to the house. Wondering who it could’ve been, Daniel asked, “What mailman? Only Jen and Bunny deliver the mail in Gilead.”
“This was Nick,” Clay said, scratching his belly in the sexiest way. “He was delivering packages last night.”
Mark laughed. “Ha-ha. Nick was delivering packages on Christmas Eve. Real funny.” He looked at Daniel and flipped a thumb at Clay. “This guy’s a real joker.”
Pleased that his cousin didn’t seem to be uncomfortable with their relationship, Daniel chuckled too.
Brows furrowed in confusion, Clay said, “No joke. Nick said he was delivering gifts in Gilead. It was almost nine o’clock, so maybe he was FedEx or something. He was driving a big delivery truck. I’m just damn lucky he was still working and was able to drive me to Danny’s. And that he was able to make it over that little bridge. That thing didn’t look safe at all.”
“Nine o’clock at night, you say?” Mark questioned.
“Yeah, give or take,” Clay said, and Daniel nodded.
“Your timing’s way off,” Mark said. “The bridge washed out just before suppertime. Mr. Beal’s daughter was out snowmobiling and she sent me a picture of it. Went over straight away and put up the barricades. Had to have supper an hour late, and I always have supper at five-thirty sharp. Joey and I checked out the bridge just now and the barricades are still up.”
Daniel and Clay exchanged a look.
“No,” Clay insisted. “The bridge was open. We drove over it.”
“Then that would be a Miracle on County Road 3-4.” Mark snickered. “Get it? Like the movie Miracle on 34th Street?”
“Yeah, we get it,” Daniel said.
“Maybe Nick flew a sleigh over Swan Creek,” Mark said, shaking his head with another laugh.
“I’m telling you, the bridge was open,” Clay said. “Totally clear.”
“Lemme guess, you saw eight reindeer too?” Mark said, seeming quite amused with his corny Christmas jokes.
Clay flinched, his expression a mix of surprise and bewilderment.
Just as confused by Clay’s confusion, Daniel asked his cousin, “Did you just come out here to tell me about the bridge?”
“Nope, Bea couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone on Christmas. Sent us to fetch you,” Mark said, serious once more. “You’re both welcome. I think we can get you both on the ATVs.” He sized up Clay. “You’re a little big. I think if you ride with Joey, it shouldn’t blow out the shocks.”
Daniel slanted a glance at Clay, memories of where they had been a few minutes ago playing through his mind. “Actually, Mark, maybe we’ll stop by later. I got my two four wheelers. We can ride ourselves.”
Mark frowned. “Bea didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas.” His eyes darted back to Clay. “But I guess you aren’t, so I’ll get out of your hair. Supper is at five-thirty sharp, if you guys are interested. There’s always room at our table for two more. My wife loves big family dinners. The more the merrier, she always says. She made buttermilk pie. I know that’s your favorite.”
“It is. And dinner sounds great,” Daniel said and when he looked over, Clay nodded.
After that, Mark headed outside with a “See you fellas later.”
As Daniel shut the door behind his cousin, he heard Mark chuckling to himself about Nick the mailman flying a sleigh over Swan Creek.
He turned to face Clay. “Did you mind? Me telling Mark about us?”
Clay appeared distracted for a moment, and then he shook his head. “No, not at all. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll never ask you to be a secret,” he promised. “Not this time around.”
“Danny,” Clay began hesitantly.
“What?” That serious expression concerned Daniel. “You don’t wanna go to my family’s dinner? You don’t have to…. I’m sorry.” His stomach knotted. “I’m moving too fast, I get it—”
“No, no,” Clay said in a rush, raising his hands. “That’s awesome, really.” Then he flashed that grin that had stolen Daniel’s heart and never returned it. “You know I’ve always wanted a Gilead Christmas.”
Daniel let out a shaky breath. “Oh good, you scared me for a minute. You looked all serious.”
“Well,” he began again. “I was just thinking about the bridge being out, and Nick. You don’t think…?”
“That Santa Claus gave you a ride to my house?” He gave an uncomfortable laugh, feeling foolish even as he said it. “Mark was just goofing around. He has a weird sense of humor.”
“Yeah, maybe. But what if…?” Clay’s eyes were wide, unsure.
Daniel examined Clay, trying to think about what he’d just been told and what he knew to be fact. The bridge had been swept out before dinnertime, but Clay claimed that Nick had driven him over it. And it was almost nine o’clock when Clay arrived. But Santa Claus? No, that was impossible!
Daniel shook his head. “Nope. C’mon, Fisher. Use your head.”
Nodding, he laughed nervously. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s just stupid. But….”
He left the word hanging and Daniel stared at his long-lost lover, standing in his living room. They were hopefully about to start a brand-new life together. A chance at a happiness he’d thought lost. His dream of finding a happily ever after with someone he loved, settling down in Gilead—they’d work out the details later—all of it was coming true. The timing had never worked for Clay and Daniel in the past, but today Clay was with Daniel, where he belonged.
Clay had finally made it home for Christmas.
Had this been a miracle? A divine intervention?
Maybe.
But Santa Claus?
No way!
Chuckling, Daniel shook his head at his Christmas morning musings. “Look, Clay, I don’t know how you got here, but I’m grateful. I love you, and I don’t want to overthink it.” He walked over to his tree and plugged in the lights.
They gleamed as bright as the lovelight in Daniel’s heart.
“Okay, if you say it wasn’t Santa, that’s fine. But Nick was an old fat man with white hair and a white beard.”
Laughing, he shook his head at his boyfriend—I missed saying that. “You’re such a liar.”
The expression Clay wore was not a joking one. “I’m serious, Danny.”
>
He hesitated, then shook his head again. “You’re just pulling my leg.”
“No, no, I’m not.”
Crossing his arms, Daniel appraised Clay. “Did he ho-ho-ho, too?”
His face wrinkled. “Um, yeah, he kinda did.”
Daniel threw up his hands. “Nope, I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”
“I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, Virginia, but yes, there is a Santa Claus.” Clay smiled and Daniel slipped into his open arms. “And he delivered a special package last night.” He thrust against Daniel, grinning lecherously. “And I’m gonna deliver another special package this morning.”
“I love what a goober you still are,” Daniel told him, his belly trembling with desire.
“I just love you, Danny.”
His heart swelled with happiness and joy. “I love you, Clay. Always have. Always will.”
“You know what?”
Savoring his big warm lover wrapping him up, Daniel smiled up at him. “What?”
“I don’t know how I was able to get here. Maybe it was Santa, and maybe it was just dumb luck,” Clay said. “But hearing you say that you love me? That’s the Christmas miracle I’ve been waiting for my entire life.”
“You know what I’ve been waiting for?”
“What?”
Daniel smiled. “To be able to say this to you: Welcome home, soldier.”
DEANNA WADSWORTH might be a best-selling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and a couple adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. She loves music and dancing, and will often be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes quiet times in her garden when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships has always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.
Facebook: www.facebook.com/deannawadsworthauthor
Welcome Home, Soldier Page 8