The 25 Men of Christmas

by Cassie James

  And then suddenly he’s thrusting and the vibe’s back on my clit, and the only thing I can focus on is breathing and arching against him as I tumble closer and closer to the edge. The feeling of too much comes racing back all over again, and I’m cumming with a shout after what feels like only a few short seconds.

  But Isaac’s still thrusting, rolling his hips over mine as I fall apart with heaving shudders and mewling groans. He circles the vibe around my tingling clit, and my eyes roll back in my head as I rush toward the precipice all over again. I grab for his wrist, trying and failing to pull his hand away this time as my body convulses in another quick round of orgasmic bliss.

  Isaac doubles and then triples his pace, slamming into me with abandon as I completely fall apart, breaths puffing from my lips as he works me over. Sex has never been this painfully good before. Isaac pulls his hand from between our bodies, but if I expected relief, I’m sorely disappointed.

  Well… not really disappointed. But relief isn’t on the menu. Isaac collapses forward, catching himself on his forearms as he tangles his hands in my hair and crashes his mouth over mine. I tip my hips up to meet his over and over again as he slams into me in a frenzied pace.

  Isaac jerks violently, and he swallows my moans with his kiss as he shudders above me. My body shakes as the kiss turns less fervent and more languid, our tongues tangling easily as he pumps slowly in and out of me a few more times.

  When Isaac finally pulls away from me, I swear I’m seeing all the cosmos behind my eyes. And maybe it’s the pair of back-to-back orgasms or the oxygen loss from the searing kiss, but all I know is that he just set the bar ridiculously high for the rest of the month. And I don’t know how I’m going to survive if all the sex is this freaking good.

  Merry Christmas to me, I guess.

  Thirteen

  Gemma

  December 02

  The last thing I expected when walking into Midtown was to find Cara waiting at the bar. She catches sight of me only a half-second after I see her. A confused smiles spreads over her face as she waves me over.

  My feet feel weighed down with lead as I move dutifully toward my best friend.

  I’m only two days into my twenty-five days of dates. I wasn’t exactly anticipating having an audience by day two.

  Cara and I haven’t talked about my conversation with Cyrus since we got drunk together. She doesn’t know what I agreed to. Hell, considering how drunk she was that night when we talked, she might not remember anything about the arrangement coming up in the first place.

  “I know, I know,” she says before I even get a greeting out. “This isn’t my usual haunt, but I had a meeting with Rodney Chesterfield.”

  My ears perk. “Oh my god, is he here?” Hot Rod Chesterfield is a hockey legend. I wonder what he’s doing on this side of the country. He plays in New York City, and we don’t have a pro hockey team that close to us.

  “You just missed him.”

  She offers an apologetic smile.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t give me a head’s up!”

  “Honestly it was so last minute that I didn’t even think about it. But what are you doing here? Are the guys meeting you?” She glances back at the corner like the team might suddenly materialize.

  “Uh, well I…”

  I glance toward the door just as—by some twist of fate—Hank enters in a surprisingly clean t-shirt. I don’t remember washing any green shirts for him, so I can only assume he bought it for the occasion. My heart thumps heavily in my chest.

  “Oh my god.” I turn back to Cara in time to see her eyes going comically wide. “Oh my god, Gemma.”

  “What?”

  I smooth my hand over my hair, which I wore down for this date even though I’d love nothing more than to throw it up into a ponytail so it’s out of my face.

  Cara stares at the movement like it’s completely foreign, but it’s not like she’s never seen my hair down before.

  “You’re on a date with Dirty Hank!”

  I blanch at the nickname.

  “Don’t call him that.”

  “But that’s what he is! Dirty. You should know that better than anyone since you keep getting roped into doing his laundry. Oh, fuck. Have you been doing that because you’re secretly hot for him?”

  In a panic, I slap my hand over her mouth to shut her up. Hank’s only a few feet away now and the last thing I want is to kick off our date with him getting seriously offended by my best friend.

  So what if Hank’s a little dirty?

  It doesn’t change the way my pulse skyrockets as he gets close enough that my fingers itch to reach out for him. I’ve been fighting that urge for so long that now I can’t help but crack. A surprised sound escapes the back of his throat as I wrap my arms around him.

  After a second, he squeezes me back.

  The feeling is short-lived as Cara grabs one of the belt loops on the back of my jeans and yanks me away. “Bathroom!” she practically shouts in Hank’s face. “We have to go to the bathroom. Be right back!”

  I try to protest but Cara is downright manic as she drags me with her to the bathroom. Unlike last time, this interruption isn’t the least bit appreciated.

  She drags me inside the single person bathroom and locks the door behind us.

  “Really, Gemma? Of all the men on the team you could have gone for it had to be Dirty Hank? I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s hot. He’s got that whole blue-collar man bun thing really working in his favor. And don’t get me started on his body.” She blows out a harsh breath and fans herself for dramatic effect. “But he’s not exactly the kind of guy I’d peg as serious relationship material, you know?”

  “Why not?” I ask defensively, crossing my arms over my chest.

  She eyes the bathroom door uncertainly, almost like she’s using x-ray vision to study him doing who-knows-what while waiting for us out by the bar.

  “Well, he’s dirty for one. He’d probably show up to his own wedding with grease under his fingernails.” Better than Colin, who probably wouldn’t show up at all. “Plus, he’s always running around like he’s not sure where he’s supposed to be. Can you imagine living with that kind of chaos day after day?”

  Yes.

  Working as closely as I do with the team, she’s not telling me anything I don’t know already. Sure, Hank’s a little all over the place, and maybe he spends more time covered in motor oil than the average man, but he’s also the first person to be there when one of the guys needs a favor—or when I do.

  He’s looked at my car for me more times than I care to admit.

  I give in to the urge to throw my hair up, a hair tie already around my wrist just in case of this scenario. I focus on my hair in the mirror to avoid looking directly at Cara while I do a piss-poor job of explaining what’s going on.

  “I like Hank, Cara. I like him exactly the way he is, dirty fingernails and all. But I’m not here tonight with him because I chose him out of all the guys on the team. I’m here tonight because I agreed not to choose.”

  “You agreed not to…” Her entire face loses color for a moment. “Holy shit, you were serious about that? I thought maybe it was like some kind of weird fantasy you were playing out in your head.”

  A wave of panic hits me.

  “Fuck, do you think this is a mistake?”

  She gets a look of complete alarm on her face as she grabs my arm so hard I wince. “No! No way! You have to do this. Do it for women everywhere. You’re my hero, and I need to live vicariously through you. I want every dirty detail—you owe me that. I helped warn you off from that douche-nozzle you were with, I deserve to know everything.”

  “Okay, okay.” I hold my hands up with a laugh as I wait for her to calm her crazy eyes. “I’ll tell you everything, I swear, but right now my date is waiting for me.”

  “Oh, right.”

  She gives me a shove towards the door.

  “Hey!” I protest.

  “I’m leaving so I d
on’t make you nervous, but you better figure out when we’re hanging out next. Because I want every juicy detail—seriously, nothing left out. No wiener left behind, Gemma. Actually, you know what? I’d like a size chart.”

  “A size…” I belatedly catch on. “Cara, stop, that’s so weird.”

  I’m pretty sure my face is hot enough to catch fire.

  “Let’s table it for now but readdress it later.”

  I start to shake my head, but I’m not sure she notices as she starts pushing me insistently out of the bathroom.

  It doesn’t matter, I forget all about her request as soon as my eyes meet Hank’s. He’s standing next to the bar, poised like he’s trying to decide whether to stay or go, and his eyes look surprised. It looks like he wasn’t expecting me to come back.

  “Bye,” I tell Cara without turning around, keeping my eyes on Hank as I start across the bar towards him.

  He takes a few steps to meet me partway.

  “I, uh, started to think maybe you’d just sneak out of the bathroom to avoid admitting you don’t want to be here with me.”

  My chest feels like it’s being cracked open. He really looks like he’s waiting for me to bail, as if he can’t imagine me actually wanting to be here with him. I try to remember the last time anyone mentioned him dating, but I can’t.

  It hurts my heart to think of him alone, but I’m selfishly glad no one else has recognized that he’s just a diamond in the rough.

  “I want to be here,” I tell him, but he doesn’t look at me. Instead, his eyes scan the room from over my head. Damn the guys for all being at least a head taller than me. “Hank.” I take a risk, reaching up to tap his cheek until he looks at me. “I want to be here,” I repeat.

  He nods, even though I’m still not sure if he believes me.

  Uncertainty plagues him as he looks around us again, wincing like the sight of the bar pains him.

  “This place was such a stupid idea. We come here all the time. It’s not special. You deserve something special.” His stilted words make my heart ache even more.

  It feels natural to reach out for him again. I put my hands on his waist and close the gap between us so that my chest nearly brushes his. “Hey, it’s fine. We come here all the time because we love it here. That’s more than special enough for me.”

  “Second day and I’m already fucking it all up,” he mutters.

  I’m at a total loss here. I have no idea what to say that would make him believe me when I say that everything is fine. The location—and him.

  To hell with it.

  I rise up on my toes and put my mouth firmly to his. He doesn’t respond at all at first, and I start to second-guess myself, but before I can pull away, he snakes an arm around my waist and hauls me closer to him.

  He tastes like toothpaste, minty and clean. Like he went the extra mile to make sure he was clean for me, despite his usual lack of grooming.

  His lips are softer than I expected, but the kiss is anything but soft. He kisses me hard, with a desperation like he’s been waiting for this for a long damn time. After everything I’ve been told by the guys, it’s not hard to believe that maybe that’s really the case.

  Just when my hands start to sneak under the hem of his t-shirt, he pulls back enough to speak.

  “We’re skipping all the good parts of the date.”

  “I thought this was the good part?” I blurt back.

  He smirks down at me as my cheeks heat with a blush. At least now he’ll hopefully stop thinking I don’t want him. The way his eyes snake down and zero in on my nipples—hard even through my shirt—confirms that.

  He runs the back of his hand down the length of my arm. “I want to take you home.”

  “Yes.” My answer is instant.

  “Not like that,” he tells me with a chuckle. “My sister’s got a rare night at home and is cooking dinner. She wanted me to bring you but…”

  This time he’s the one whose face goes flushed.

  “Nevermind, it’s stupid,” he tries to backtrack.

  “I would love to have dinner with your sister.” I feel a little guilty that I didn’t even know he had a sister, one that he’s obviously close to if he told her about me and she wanted me to join them for dinner.

  “I should warn you, my niece will be there. She can be a little bit of a handful sometimes.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Two.”

  My heart turns to a puddle as I imagine this masculine, blue-collar, gruff of a man with a little girl. Based on the look in his eyes, she’s got him wrapped around her little finger, too.

  “I love kids. Your car or mine?”

  He growls, not at all appreciating my joke. He drives a hot little orange Mustang, whereas he absolutely abhors my beat up Honda. It drives him crazy that I won’t get it replaced already.

  “I’m driving. Today. Next time. For the rest of fucking forever. You got that?”

  I’m grinning as I tell him, “Abso-freaking-lutely.”

  Fourteen

  Gemma

  “Thank you again for letting me crash,” I tell Hank’s sister, Rita.

  She waves me off as she swallows the rest of the breadstick she just shoved in her mouth. The woman can seriously put away some food. If I had to pick her out of a lineup, I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch to know which one’s Hank’s sister.

  Not only do they have the same dirty blonde hair, but their mannerisms are also eerily similar. The way they eat like they’ve been starved, in particular.

  I look over at the little blonde angel sitting next to her mother.

  Hannah is just as much of a garbage disposal as her mother and uncle. She shoves cut up pieces of pizza in her mouth with both fists.

  The family resemblance is seriously uncanny.

  Rita is finally able to speak. “I should be the one thanking you. I was trying to figure out what to cook when Hank called and offered to order pizza. I couldn’t really bear the thought of standing on my feet any longer so this was a godsend.”

  She’s a nurse. She works killer hours day in and day out, Hank explained that while he was calling in the pizza order on the way here.

  I let my eyes wander over the scene playing out in front of me.

  It’s surprisingly domestic and not at all what I expected from Hank of all people. Now that I see him in the thick of it, though, it actually makes complete sense. The guy’s a pillar of responsibility. Always nagging me about getting a safer car. Being the first to check on Ben after his injury. He might not look the part of a nurturer, but that’s exactly what he is.

  I’m only on day two of my twenty-five dates and already I can feel the whole world shifting beneath my feet.

  Cyrus told me there would be a choice at the end of it. All or nothing. But right now, watching the way Hank leans over to wipe pizza sauce off his niece’s cheek, I can’t imagine walking away with nothing.

  Who the hell could see a man like this, completely in his element, and still choose to walk away?

  I’m a fucking goner.

  As everyone finishes off the impromptu dinner, Hannah starts to yawn, her tongue poking out in a way that makes me laugh lightly under my breath. Hank turns a wide smile on me, his eyes so lit up with pure joy that I’m pretty sure we could turn off the overhead light, and his eyes alone could light the room.

  “Are you ready for bed, baby?” Rita starts to stand, but Hannah fusses and holds her arms out to Hank instead.

  He glances at me, and I nod my encouragement. I can see in his eyes that he wants to indulge her. I have a feeling he’s used to doing that a lot.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I reassure him.

  As he stands, he leans forward and kisses the side of my head. I close my eyes as his lips linger just long enough to hold the promise of more to come.

  When I open them again, Hank disappears with Hannah in his arms, and Rita is grinning wide at me from across the table.

  “You really
like my brother for real, huh?”

  I want so badly to let the words burst out of me. What’s not to like? But there’s also a nagging feeling in the back of my mind saying not to get Rita’s hopes up. There are still twenty-three days left before I know if this is even possible.

  An arrangement like this, a lot of people stand to get hurt if something goes wrong. I don’t want Hank’s sister to become collateral damage.

  “Things are, uh, complicated.”

  She gives me a knowing look. “He told me about the team’s arrangement.” She lowers her voice as she explains, “Honestly, I worried he was just getting strung along because it was a package deal sort of thing. I didn’t want to think the worst but women... Sometimes they don’t understand my brother.”

  I glance the direction he disappeared.

  “Your brother is a really good man. Any woman that can’t see that? Well, her loss is my gain.”

  Rita dips her head as she swipes at an errant tear that manages to escape the corner of her eye. She gives a quiet sniffle, too, proving the single tear isn’t just a fluke. She gives me a watery smile.

  “When Hannah’s dad pulled a Houdini, Hank was there every step of the way helping me. The man went to freaking Lamaze classes for me, Gemma. He’s a real saint, and he deserves a sweet girl like you. Regardless of how… alternative the circumstances might seem.”

  Her eyes lift to look at something behind me. I peek over my shoulder to find Hank hovering uncertainly in the doorway.

  Rita stands, offers me another warm smile before yawning herself. “I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  I look back and forth between the siblings as Rita winks at her brother, causing his cheeks to flush pink. Even having only known Rita for a short time, I can already tell there’s probably not much she wouldn’t do.

  Hank takes my hand, his coarse fingers tangling with mine as he gives me a gentle tug toward the stairs.

  I let him lead me to the door at the top of the stairs where he gives my hand a quick squeeze before letting go and waving me into his bedroom ahead of him.