I'll Be Home for Christmas

by Lori Wilde

  He stalked up the steps, rearranged her in his arms while he jiggled the door open. Her arms tightened around him. Breathlessly, Joe zoomed over the threshold. This was it. This was it! Gabi was about to be his again.

  How had he been able to hold back so damn long?

  He stalked into the bedroom, laid her on his mattress, stepped back to look at her stretched out. Her eyes were wide, the tip of her tongue touching her upper lip, a Christmas tree needle caught in the wild tumble of her luscious hair and Joe just… .

  … fell …

  Yes! Gabi peered up at Joe, who gave her a wicked grin as he stripped off his coat and dropped it to the floor. He was also busy trying to toe off his boots, but she couldn’t wait any longer.

  Amped up on adrenaline and estrogen, she reached out, grabbed his arm, and pulled him onto the bed with her. “C’mere, handsome.” For one startled moment, he lay stretched out across the mattress looking slightly surprised and sexy as sin.

  Quickly, he recovered. Went all He-Man. Pinning her spread-eagle on his bed, his arms manacled her wrists. His legs weighted hers to the sheets. His chest crushed against her breasts. His dear face grinned down at her.

  He shifted, spreading her legs farther apart with an insistent knee. Speared it between her thighs, moved against her.

  A sharp gasp burst from her lips.

  Triumph lit his eyes, followed by a look of abject hunger. He wanted her. Bad.

  Overwhelmed, Gabi caught her breath. Held it for such a long beat that she feared she might never breathe again. She was that gone for this magnificent man.

  “You ready?” he murmured.

  “For what?” she whispered.

  “The moment that’s too X-rated for a snow globe.”

  “Oh that,” she said.

  Then Joe dipped his head and claimed her mouth. Prize. She was his prize. Or maybe he was hers for being brave enough to strike out to uncharted waters. Run away from home. From the life that had never been her own.

  He was still hanging on to her wrists with his big hands. She took hold of his index fingers, squeezed them, letting him know just how much he meant to her. How happy she was to be here in his bed.

  Eyes open. Both of them had their eyes wide open.

  His pupils expanded, darkened. She imagined hers did too.

  He deepened the kiss. God, but the man could kiss! Magic. His lips were pure magic. He kissed her like everything he’d ever lost had been unexpectedly found. Like he’d come home after an endless journey.

  X-rated snow globe. She smiled against his mouth, swallowed up the taste of him. So fresh, minty, hot, alive.

  He relinquished her wrists, moved his hands to cup her face in calloused palms. Looked at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. As if she was his entire universe.

  As if this moment could live on into infinity.

  She ran her hands up his sides to his shoulders. She gripped his biceps, flexed so tight as he held her. She played her fingers over his back, strumming the striation of his hard muscles beneath the material of his shirt.

  All the while his mouth was driving her wild. Spinning her out into the vast expanse of space. Robbing her of everything except raw, throbbing need.

  Ravenous.

  She was ravenous for this man. Had been from the moment he’d smarted off to her in Perks. How was it possible things between them could feel so fated?

  And yet … and yet …

  No. She was not going to allow her attention to go anywhere but on this man, this moment.

  Giddy, dizzy—from him, from the lack of oxygen, from everything she was feeling—Gabi closed her eyes and floated on the thrill of sensation.

  Joe slid his lips from her mouth to her chin, moving around the curve of her jaw, nipping his way down her neck to the pulse pounding at the hollow of her throat.

  His mouth was rough, demanding, and she loved it. Loved his masculine ways. How his teeth bit lightly, provoking her—daring, teasing, taunting. Everything about him excited her. His scent. The way his hair curled over his ears. How he took charge, but never overtook her.

  But he was making her so horny. So crazed with the hard, desperate need to merge.

  She wrenched her mouth from his. “Gotta …” She gasped. “… have you.”

  “Greedy, greedy.” He chuckled.

  “I thought you had to have me or lose your mind,” she challenged.

  “I’ve got you,” he said smugly.

  “Not all the way. Not yet. I’m not even naked.”

  “Patience, patience. The best is yet to come.”

  Come.

  His confident tone of voice, the masterful expression on his face, detonated a ripple of quakes throughout her body.

  “Promises, promises,” she grumbled.

  “Not promises,” he corrected. “Fact.”

  Oh my. A trail of heat chased after the quakes. Gabi gulped.

  Leisurely, Joe pressed her down against the pillow, reached to unsnap her jeans. Inch the zipper down. “Raise your hips up.”

  She thought about telling he was being high-handed, but then realized she wanted him to boss her around. That was much different from doing something to please someone else. Besides, she knew he had her pleasure in mind.

  “I’m not doing this because you told me to,” she said, pushing up on her heels until her butt cleared the mattress.

  “I know.” His grin could have popped corn. It was that hot. “I’m doing this because you want me to.”

  Well, he was, wasn’t he? That pleased her. A lot.

  He slid to the end of the bed, grasped the cuffs of her jeans in both hands, and tugged. Pulling her down the bed toward him.

  “Wow,” she said. “You’re strong.”

  “These tight jeans are tenacious.”

  “Are you complaining?”

  “Nope.” His grin turned sappy with pleasure. “Grab the headboard.”

  She wrapped both hands around the headboard, kept her butt lifted off the bed while he yanked on her pants legs and peeled those jeans right off her body, revealing a pair of silver high-cut panties.

  “You look like the best Christmas present I’ve ever had under my tree.” Joe tossed her jeans over his shoulder and leaned down to press his hot lips to her skin just above the waistband of those silver panties.

  Gabi tensed, shivered.

  He hooked his fingers over the elastic, edged the panties down her hips painstakingly slowly. Once he dispensed with the panties, his mouth was on her again. Lower. Hotter.

  A liquid moan slipped past her lips.

  His hair tickled her belly as his tongue did crazy things to her. She twined her fingers in those silky strands, clung to him, held on tight while he did incredible, amazing, fantastic things to her.

  She whimpered and twisted, mewled and writhed.

  He was relentless. Not letting up until the orgasm was upon her. Blooming big and bright, then dragging her down with a hard shudder.

  “Another orgasm?” he murmured, his voice full of smirking pride.

  “What? Huh?” she asked, totally dazed and sated, but dammit, eager for more, more, more. Whatever he dished up, she could take.

  Within minutes she was completely naked, moaning and quivering again, jelly in his arms.

  He let her be for a while and she lay against the pillow with her eyes closed as her breathing slowed. But she no more than caught her breath than he was at her again. That wayward mouth of his branding her all over—her navel, her knee, her elbow, behind her ear. No spot was off-limits.

  But he still had his clothes on. She could see his body straining against the zipper of his jeans, could feel the hard heat of his erection through the denim. He needed to get naked.

  Now.

  Desperately, she clawed at the buttons on his shirt.

  He groaned, low and hungry, wrestled the shirt over his head, reached for the snap of his jeans at the same time she did, their fingers colliding in a frantic tangle. “L
et me,” he cried, and was out of his pants and boxer briefs almost instantly.

  His shaft sprang up proudly. Look at me. Look at me.

  Excited, she took him in her palm.

  He sucked in his breath through clenched teeth.

  Slowly, she moved her hand up and down the length of him.

  They were on their knees together in the middle of the mattress, facing each other. Her hand on him, his body rigid. The air was rife with the smell of pheromones. A pure, primal odor that shimmered between him as her molecules melded with his.

  She stared pointedly into his murky brown eyes.

  He made a noise—half growl, half groan—and he pulsed in her hand.

  Power. She had so much power over him. She was in control. She could see the truth in his face. She could shatter him if she chose.

  She stroked the end of her thumb over the tip of him.

  He twitched. Hard.

  Oh God, she had to have him inside her. Pushing her limits. Pounding through her. Pulverizing everything that stood between the union of their bodies and their souls. Possessing her the way no man ever had.

  “No more waiting,” she said firmly.

  He didn’t argue. Fumbled in the bedside drawer for a condom. Tossed it to her. “Do the honors,” he said. “My hands are shaking too damn much.”

  Pleased that she’d reduced him to rubble, Gabi opened the condom. Rolled it onto him as quickly as she could. “Now—”

  He sank his mouth on hers, cut off the rest of her words, which was just fine. Talking was way overrated. He tipped her backward, falling with her onto the cool sheets.

  He gobbled up her eager moan, his tongue a silken slide over hers.

  His fingers slipped between her thighs, stroked erotic sensations against her hot flesh. She was so wet for him. Wet and ready and frantic.

  So frantic to have him inside her.

  His hands went behind her, cupping her butt in his wide palms. Instinctively, she raised her legs, wrapped them around his waist. He exhaled in a loud hiss and rocked forward. He poised over her, his throbbing shaft so close to her entrance she could feel the hard jut of him.

  Their gazes were locked, both of them sweating.

  “I want you,” she whispered. “Please.”

  He lowered his weight onto his forearms, lowered his mouth to hers as he slid into her, filling her with one hard push.

  She hissed out a startled breath, tightened her legs around his waist.

  The first tremors started in the center of her womb, contracting, undulating along with his thrusts. She held on tight, loved how he battered her with his passion. He rocked into her, moving her around so she could get the full tilt of him as he sheathed himself inside her. She pushed against him, heightening the pressure, the friction, the heat, meeting his frantic strokes, beat for beat.

  He threaded a hand through her hair at the top of her head, used his knuckles as a protective bolster between her and the headboard and he shoved into her, momentarily lifting her off the mattress. She squeaked with delight, closed her eyes to fully absorb the experience.

  “Gabi.” His voice came out like gravel. “Look at me.”

  She wanted to open her eyes, but it was so amazing awesome lying here without opening her eyes. Just feeling, smelling, hearing him added intensity to the experience simply because she could not see him.

  “Look at me.”

  She tore her eyes open, stared into his intense fiery gaze, and lost herself fully to him. Attached by their gazes, they fell into the perfect rhythm. Like longtime dance partners they glided together. Spinning. Twirling. Gyrating in synchronicity.

  Together they rose, higher and higher, spiraling, a whirlwind of twining hearts, minds, and souls.

  And then they were tumbling together. Free falling. He grabbed the headboard with both hands, crying out her name as he emptied his essence into her at the same moment she exploded into a million little starbursts of crazy sensation—hot, wild quakes of pure awareness.

  He collapsed against her, pulling her with him as he rolled onto his back. Gasping, panting for air, they held each other as wave after receding wave washed over them. She curled up on his chest, her ear pressed against his heart. Listened to the strong galloping beat.

  “Incredible,” he mumbled when he’d gotten enough oxygen back to form words. “You are incredible.”

  His skin was hot against hers. She smiled and couldn’t stop. “Not so shabby yourself, Cheek.”

  He shifted her until she was tucked in the crook of his arm and looked down into her face, his eyes no longer fierce with lust, but soft and warm and gentle. He met her smile, turning her already melted bones to liquid with that dimple.

  She reached out her index finger and planted it on the dimple. “Deadly,” she said.

  “Still want me?”

  “Always.” A strand of hair fell over her face and he pushed it away. She moved her finger from his dimple to his lips, tracing the angular lines, and admitted, “I think I might be seriously addicted.”

  He propped himself up on one elbow to kiss the tip of her nose. “I’m hooked,” he confirmed.

  “Well, as long as we’re in this together.” She smiled past the accelerating beat of her heart, revving up again.

  Intimacy like this was so dangerous. So many raw feelings hanging out there. So much emotion. They could so very easily break each other. Life was complicated. She was leaving in a few days. Who knew where the future would lead them?

  But for now? For this sweet moment, everything between them was perfect.

  CHAPTER 25

  Christmas is, of course, the time to be home—in heart as well as body.

  —Gary Moore

  She must have fallen asleep, because Gabi woke with a start sometime later. For a moment, she was confused about where she was. Not the yurt because she was warm and she couldn’t hear the sounds of the outdoors seeping through the walls. Then she remembered. She was at Joe’s. Casey had spent the night with his aunt and Joe had brought her here after their carriage ride in the park.

  She lay on her side, Joe spooned against her, his pelvis pressed to her butt. His big arm was thrown over her waist and their legs were tangled up together in the sheets. She opened her eyes, blinked smiling into the darkness.

  Beautiful.

  It felt so beautiful here with him.

  She listened to his slow, steady breathing, and let the sound fill her with joy and contentment. What a happy sound to wake up to.

  Another snow globe moment.

  She wished they were in a snow globe. That way this could last forever. And that’s when she knew, without a doubt, she’d fallen completely in love with this man.

  How had this happened? Her first serious relationship and she’d tumbled head over heels. Bonded. Connected.

  And that was absolutely terrifying.

  Because she could not be sure if she loved him for him or if she loved him because of her need to meld with other people and her deep desire to please.

  Stop. Just stop thinking. Enjoy the moment. Snow globe, remember?

  Resolutely, she burrowed against him, enjoying the feel of his naked skin against hers and felt him instantly react, his body growing hard and long very quickly.

  “Now that’s a way to wake a man up,” he growled, and tightened his arms around her waist.

  He repositioned her so they were lying side by side.

  Gabi studied his handsome profile in the light from the bathroom—the masculine angle of his nose, the firm set of his jaw, the interesting jut of his brow. She remembered the first time she’d seen him as he strolled into Perks, tired from her flight and the drive from DFW airport, happy to be in Twilight and trying not to think of the mess she’d left behind.

  She closed her eyes, deafened by the sound of her erratic breathing, struggling to tame the bumpy rhythm, anxious for everything to be light and sweet and nonthreatening. Failing miserably to keep things on an even keel. Excitement, shod in clompy
boots, tromped around inside her. Kicking her belly here. Toeing her womb there. Digging into the center of her chest. Rooting around. Stirring up trouble. Making her feel too damn much.

  Gently, he drew her into the crook of his arm, pinned her to his side. Leery, she opened her eyes, found him staring down into her face. Her breath stilled in her lungs and she could feel the hot, quick pulse fluttering at her neck. She was so expanded. So open and raw. That scared her like a limitless sky, too big and blue and devoid of clouds. Too many options. Too many possibilities.

  One of his long, calloused fingers traced the soft skin of her cheek and then his hand dropped to do all kinds of wonderful things.

  He took his time.

  Pressure built, gathering power, sweeping her along like a gathering storm. Sucking everything from her by the primal need to merge with this man. His expert fingers whipped her up, guiding her where he wanted her to go, coaxing her to the pinnacle of pleasure. Touching her. Breasts. Nipples. Belly. Hips. Thighs.

  Rubbing.

  Stroking.

  Caressing.

  Licking.

  Nibbling.

  Plucking her as if she was the ripest fruit nestled in the top of a peach tree—wet, juicy, ready for eating.

  She trembled, on the verge of stumbling over the summit, into the bliss of the abyss. She was wild and free and untethered. A leaf on the wind. A song on the breeze. A dream on a cloud. Drifting. Hanging. Soaring.

  He was taking her to places she’d never been, but they were places she wanted to go. She was in this, a willing partner. Not doing any of it just to please him, but because this was where she wanted to be. This was what she wanted to be doing. And he was the person she most wanted to be with.

  This wasn’t just her dream or wild imaginings. Not just hoping or wishing. She was actually here, relating to him. One hundred percent engaged. No checking out. No going through the emotions. No doubts. No fears. No second guessing.

  And she gave herself over to him. Freely, happily, willingly, honestly gave her everything she had inside her.

  It was an incredibly liberating sensation and she reveled in the utter joy of embracing what she wanted, needed, while at the same time letting go of any and all expectations for something beyond.