I'll Be Home for Christmas

by Lori Wilde

  Sitting on the ledge, he patted his knees. “Come here.”

  She obeyed.

  He hauled her onto his lap, planted a bouquet of hot kisses over her face, down her neck. The air was chilly, but she wasn’t the least bit cold, her body on fire with desire for him.

  For a moment, he toyed with her nipples again, but then he went back to her mouth, kissing her long and hard and deep. She squirmed, delighted, and a distinctively guttural noise bounced from his throat.

  Their tongues frolicked, enjoying each other.

  She focused on him. On the sensations coursing through her body, and tried not to let any thoughts beyond this moment.

  “Joe,” she whispered. “Joe.”

  He nibbled her earlobe and her chest heaved in response, her breath coming out thin and panting.

  “Joe, wait,” she said, not wanting to ruin this but needing to tell him all the same.

  “Hmm?” he said dreamily, sounding dazed, drugged.

  She was having this effect on him and she felt more powerful than she had ever felt. “Stop a minute.”

  “Umm.” He pulled back. Blinked at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve got something to tell you.”

  “Whatever it is can wait.” He closed his mouth over hers again.

  How easy it would be just to let this go and let him take over. Surrender. Get swept away. She’d done it all her life.

  She tapped on his shoulder. “No,” she said. “No it can’t.”

  “What is it, Trouble? What do you want?”

  You. I want you.

  “There’s something you need to know about me.”

  That stilled him. His eyes opened wide and he stared right into her. Gabi’s stomach did an odd jittery thing. “I’m listening.”

  She gulped. Hiccupped.

  “You’re nervous,” he said. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. I’m listening. I’ll hear you. Talk to me.”

  Hic. She plastered a palm over her mouth. Just say it. Get it over with.

  “But if you’re not ready yet …” He dipped his head to tug one of her nipples into his mouth.

  “Joe!” She gasped.

  He stopped, raised his head, gave her his full attention. “Talk or I’m going back in.”

  How could she think when he was looking at her like that? As if she was the most important thing on the face of the earth. She was elated and terrified and shaking all over and hungry and sated and so many things she couldn’t begin to identify. She wasn’t accustomed to such tumultuous feelings and she wasn’t wholly sure she liked it.

  His tone was light, but his eyes were serious. The effect of which rabbit-punched her in the gut. “Gabi …”

  She sucked in a breath and bolstered her courage. Might as well dive in. “You might want to lower your expectations.”

  His gaze never left her face. “About what?”

  “I’m not … I haven’t ever—”

  “You’re a virgin?” He sounded petrified by the idea.

  “Joe, I’m twenty-three. The virginity ship set sail years ago.”

  He pantomimed wiping sweat from his brow, or maybe he really was sweating. “That takes a load of pressure off.”

  “That’s just the thing,” she said. “I’m not afraid you won’t live up to my expectations, rather I’m afraid I won’t live up to yours.”

  “Trouble,” he cooed, his eyes softening “There’s no way you could disappoint me.”

  “You say that now …”

  “I mean it. No matter what.”

  Just tell him. “I can’t come,” she blurted.

  “What?”

  She shrugged, trying to appear as if it didn’t bother her, as if embarrassment wasn’t pushing a lump of tension into her throat. Why had she started this? She could have kept her mouth shut. Pretended. He wouldn’t have known the difference. No guy she’d been with ever had. But she wanted to be honest with Joe, even though she wasn’t sure why it was so important to her. “I’ve … um … I’ve never had an orgasm.”

  “Not even … um … by yourself?” He sounded surprised, but thankfully not as if he felt sorry for her.

  She shook her head.

  “Aw, Trouble, you’ve been missing out.”

  “Not really. You can’t miss what you’ve never had, right?”

  “But you yearn for it.”

  “Of course.”

  “You want to know what all the fuss is about.” His voice dropped lower.

  “I get the urge,” she explained. “Just not the relief.”

  “All that pressure,” he said, his fingertips lightly brushing her nipples. “And no release valve.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You’re ready to blow.” His voice was soft, but heavy, filled with the promise of things she hardly dared hope for.

  “So you see, you might want to reconsider this.” She waved a hand.

  “No way, sweetheart. You just issued me a challenge.”

  “Um … that’s not what I was going for. I don’t want you to feel bad when you fail.”

  “Who says I’m going to fail?”

  “Every other man who tried has failed.”

  He leveled her an ahem look. “Do I look like those guys?”

  Gabi flicked a glance at his bare body. No, no he certainly did not. “It’s not their fault. It’s mine. I’m frigid.”

  He snorted.

  “What?”

  “Where did you get that?”

  She lifted one shoulder, felt the stab of inadequacy she felt every time she had sex with a man. “I’ve been told as much.”

  “That’s bullshit. It’s not you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because of this,” he said, and ran a palm along the soft side of her inner thigh. Immediately, she shivered. “See how responsive you are?”

  “Shivering when you touch me doesn’t mean it will translate to an orgasm.”

  “Yes it does.” He said it with such conviction, she believed him. “Those other men were selfish pigs who didn’t realize what a treasure they had. They took advantage of your giving nature.”

  Her cheeks heated at his compliments.

  He kissed her tenderly at first, and then increased the pressure, the joining of their lips growing harder, hotter. Gabi got lost in his mouth, closed her eyes, and floated on the heat. But he didn’t let her float for long, he picked up the pace until she was panting and whimpering and clutching his shoulder to keep her head above water.

  “Gabi,” he murmured. “Look at me.”

  Reluctant to leave the magical cocoon he’d woven around her, Gabi barely lifted one eyelid to peek at him.

  His gaze drilled into her, masculine and intense. “You’re one of the sexiest women I’ve ever met. Don’t you doubt that for a second. Got it?”

  “Got it,” she whispered, alarmed by the thrill that skipped through her. He was saying and doing all the right things. The kind of things she’d always dreamed a lover would do.

  He cupped her face between her palms, rained kisses on her. He ran his fingers through her hair, gently combing the wet strands, sweeping her up in the pleasure of being touched by him. “I can change things for you if you’d just relax and let me.”

  CHAPTER 14

  The joy of brightening other lives, bearing each other’s burdens, easing others’ loads and supplanting empty hearts and lives with generous gifts becomes for us the magic of Christmas.

  —WC Jones

  Joe pulled Gabi to him, tucked her in the curve of his arms, and held her tight while they floated happily together on hot bubbles. The icy blue Christmas lights on the house twinkled gaily in front of them. The air smelled of cedar and pine and the damp redwood of the deck and ozone odor of hot tub. God, he loved this time of year.

  She stroked a finger down the center of his chest, and the moment was so perfect that he had to kiss her, even though whenever he kissed her he felt as though he was walking a weird tightrope of emotions.
He barely knew her and yet she’d wrapped around his heart so tightly he could barely take a deep breath, and he decided breathing was overrated in the first place, and he knew that she’d altered him in some fundamental and permanent way.

  Forever marked.

  Her hair draped wet against his neck. He nuzzled her closer. Kissed her temple. He loved the way she felt against him and he hoped she felt the same way. But she’d be gone after Christmas, back to wherever she came from, and he’d be left with an empty hole in his chest, missing her bone deep.

  Aw shit. Aw hell. Aw damn. What was happening to him?

  Since he’d first planted his mouth on Shelby Newcomb’s on the school playground monkey bars in first grade, he’d probably kissed ten dozen girls and not a single one of them could compare to Gabi Preston. He knew next to nothing about her and yet when his mouth was on hers, he knew everything he needed to know.

  In the span of four days, she’d become the map of what he wanted. A yardstick that he’d forever measure other women against, and they would all fall short.

  Three weeks. He only had three weeks with her and he vowed to enjoy every second of the time they had together.

  “This is so nice. I hate to move.” Gabi sighed happily. “But I’m turning into a prune.”

  “Me too,” he said, but hugged her tighter and didn’t let go.

  He was falling for her. Too hard. Too quickly. How had this happened to him at the worst possible time? When he was just learning how to settle down. When he was needing a country woman who suited him, not some big-city female who would soon fly away.

  He tried not to want her. Not to yearn for her, but each day that passed, her easy smile and laughing eyes drew him more and more, a magnet pulling at him from the inside, until his heart seemed to beat outside his chest. His feelings stoked by the intensity of the things he noticed about her—the soft scent of flowers, the tasty honey hue of her hair, the sexy curve of her lower back, the calming sound of her voice that made him think of ebb tides and sand between his bare toes and lazy days spent sprawled in beach chairs under colorful umbrellas—until she was large and profound in his mind, a sky full of desire.

  Up above, the moon had slid into a bank of clouds, thrusting everything on the ground in shifting shadows. Deep black midnight. So quiet all he could hear was the sound of their commingled breathing and the cheerful whooshing of the hot tub.

  Reluctantly, Joe let go of her, moved to stand up. He held out his hand to her and she took it. He guided her from the tub, down the wooden steps, where he wrapped her in the big bath towel before draping himself with one.

  The cold air hit their heated skin, and holding hands, they rushed to the back door, teeth chattering against their laughter. As they tumbled into the yurt, he couldn’t help thinking this was the most perfect night he’d ever had.

  And immediately felt sad because it was already gone.

  Joe waltzed her to the bed, his big palms spread over her butt.

  He stopped when he got her to the bed, looked down at her, his eyes both familiar and foreign. He was practically a stranger but she felt as if she’d known him forever. Would always know him.

  It felt as if they’d been split apart in some faraway universe, separated for centuries, wandering aimless and disconnected, waiting, just waiting for this moment of reunion.

  But that was silly, right? Fanciful. Romantic. There was no such thing as soul mates and past lives.

  And yet she couldn’t stop thinking it.

  Found. She once was lost, but now she was found. That’s exactly what this was like. Completion. Wholeness.

  And he wasn’t even inside her yet.

  He was watching her, standing beside the bed, waiting. Naked. That strand of golden-brown hair fallen over his forehead. His posture loose, relaxed, comfortable in his nudity. He smiled that dimpled grin, his brown eyes lit up. The sight of him warmed her heart, salved her old hurts, and vanquished her fears. Her skin blistered hot and sticky underneath his stare. Where had he been all her life?

  He held out his hand to her.

  Time stretched as long as a millennium, and contracted as short as a second. Her heart pounded in her ears as she stepped forward and he folded her into his arms.

  This was dangerous. He made her vulnerable. She knew it. Didn’t care. Not right now. Later. She’d worry about it later.

  His mouth was on hers. The kiss was a tidal wave. More intense than any kiss he’d yet given her. Crashing her senses. Enveloping her. Desire was a forest fire burning hot and swift. Incinerating everything but need. Raw hungry need. His hands were bold. Audacious.

  The bed. Soft beneath their weight. Box springs creaking. She was on her back. He hovered above her. His mouth found her nipple. She moaned at the heat, the pleasure. His tongue seduced her with hot licks. Amazing. All of it.

  He called her name. Smiled that devastating smile. He was happy. So was she. This moment was beauty. This moment was joy. His lips. Oh, his lips. Brilliant tools. Branded her. She was his.

  God, what a body he had—hard and masculine, strong and virile. Was it possible to feel so much driving need and not die?

  “Inside me,” she whispered, desperately. “Get inside me.”

  He laughed. Enjoying that he’d reduced her to begging. She didn’t care. She had to have this. Had to have him.

  “That’s not the best way for you to have an orgasm,” he whispered. “Just trust me.”

  Trust. It wasn’t something that came easily to her. But even though she wasn’t quite sure why, she did trust him.

  His hands and tongue were everywhere and she opened to him fully. He took his time. Slow and leisurely. Down, down, down her body he went until he reached the most feminine part of her. The smell of testosterone stirred the air and spurred her arousal. So powerful. So male.

  Wet. She was so hot and wet for him.

  She wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted that damn orgasm he promised.

  He was building it. She got that. But how much higher could she go? How far could he push her without breaking her?

  “Please,” she whimpered, not even fully realizing she’d spoken. “Please make me come.”

  “Your wish is my command, Trouble.”

  But still he was taking too long. She writhed against the mattress, threaded her hands through his hair. Hurry. Hurry.

  He paused to kiss her, and murmur shh when she protested. He tasted of her. Rich and female. He was driving her crazy. What heaven. What hell.

  “Tormentor!” she gasped.

  He laughed.

  But even as she complained, he was drawing her nearer and nearer to the treasure, his mouth a golden instrument of her release.

  And then she was there, as quick as a slip off the side of a mountain. Tumbling. Crashing. Falling. Careening.

  Nicked. Dinged. Battered.

  Swamping heat. Tropical. Exotic. Wet, wet, wet.

  He drove her to the edges of her limits and beyond. Not letting up. Pushing and pushing and pushing.

  Wave upon wave.

  Shoving. Thrusting. Soaring.

  No words. She could not speak. Could not think. Could not do anything but get swept away.

  The earth and the moon and the stars were inside her. She was the universe and the universe was she. Alive. She was utterly and completely alive.

  And Joe was the one who’d awakened her.

  What a gift!

  What a night!

  What a man!

  Gabi woke up alone.

  For a brief moment she felt a tug of sadness in her chest, but quickly shook it off. She knew this relationship with Joe was short-lived. They weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. They weren’t soul mates. They’d simply had a very good time in bed, and that was fine with her.

  Yep, fine. She recalled the night just past and the amazing gift he’d given her and she smiled. Correction. What he’d given her was much more than fine. It was fan-freaking-tastic.

  In fact, she couldn’t seem to s
top smiling, even when she peeked across the street and saw Joe’s pickup wasn’t parked in front of his house. No doubt he had a busy morning ahead of him. Not everyone had the luxury of a three-week vacation. Sure, she was disappointed that they couldn’t have a leisurely breakfast together or that he hadn’t woken her up to say good-bye, but she was cool.

  It was all good.

  She touched herself and her smile widened.

  Very good indeed.

  Contented, she rolled over and went back to sleep.

  An hour later voices woke Gabi again.

  It sounded like Joe and some other guys in her front yard.

  She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but how could she not? Sound easily penetrated the walls of the yurt. She’d have to go out of her way to avoid hearing the conversation. Yes, a woman with more integrity would clamp her hands over her ears and hum la, la, la to block the conversation, or better yet just get up and go join the conversation. But it was so warm and cozy inside the cocoon of her bed, and so cold outside and … Well, she was just making excuses, wasn’t she? She wanted to hear what they were saying.

  Drawing her knees to her chest, she pricked up her ears.

  “You’re in over your head with this one,” a man said.

  “Tell me about it.” That was Joe.

  What were they talking about? Gabi sat up, tilted her head.

  “What do you think Katie is going to say about you sleeping with her friend in her bed?” another man asked, and she recognized the voice as belonging to Joe’s brother Sam.

  Her. They were talking about her.

  And the fact she and Joe had had sex.

  Her face flushed to the roots of her hair. Oh God. His entire family would know they had sex, probably the entire town. When she’d taken him to bed, she had not fully thought this through.

  “Oh Christ, I didn’t even think about Katie.” Joe groaned.

  “Yeah,” the man whose name Gabi didn’t know said. “You weren’t thinking at all. Little Joe was in control.”

  Gabi frowned at the razzing the man was dishing out. There was nothing little about Joe. That had to be another one of Joe’s brothers or a very good friend.

  “So how are you feeling about things this morning?” Sam asked.