by Elisabeth Naughton, Alexandra Ivy, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Laura Wright, Skye Jordan
Her eyes went all soft and dreamy, just the way he’d fantasized for so many years. “Oh, Tate.”
He tightened his arms around her. “I miss you, Ella. More than you kno—”
She pressed her lips to his once more, cutting off his words. Her reaction filled his heart with so much heat and joy and life, it spilled into his chest until he felt as if his lungs might just burst.
He slid his hands down over her sweet ass, pulled her in closer, then cupped and lifted her right off the floor. She pulled back enough to gasp and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
“Point me in the direction of your bedroom,” he managed.
“Oh. Um…I don’t have one.”
His brows drew together as he looked down at her. “You don’t have a bedroom?”
“I sleep on the couch.”
His gaze drifted past her and over the room, and he realized then that it was sparsely decorated. Her desk was positioned in front of a window. A doorway opened to a room that seemed to be filled with boxes. The small U-shaped kitchen, similar to the one upstairs in his loft, occupied the space to his left. The only other furniture in the room was an old dresser pushed up against the wall and a threadbare couch opposite a stone fireplace. where embers from a fire she’d started a while ago glowing red in the dim light. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Because it’s just me and I don’t need a lot of room. And because I don’t sleep all that much.”
“Why not?”
Her fingertips grazed the edge of his collar, and her gaze followed. “Because late at night is when I think about you.”
Something inside him combusted. Just burst with the need to touch her and kiss her and consume her. His mouth found hers, and she opened at the first touch, drew his tongue into her warmth and wetness with a throaty groan, and tightened her legs around his hips.
“Tate…” Her hands slid down his face, over his shoulders, and across his back while he tipped his head, while he kissed her deeper. Her fingers clenched in his shirt, then cool air swept over his lower back, the middle of his spine, and finally his shoulder blades.
She pulled back from his mouth, breathless and the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, and tugged at the back of his shirt. “I want this off.”
He took one step and dropped her butt on the edge of the rectangular desk, then reached back and pulled the shirt over his head. Excitement and heat and lust filled her eyes as she stared at his bare chest. He dropped his shirt on the floor and leaned down, but she eased away and twisted around before he could kiss her again.
“Wait.” Her hands swept over the surface of the desk, knocking pens, paper, her cell phone, and a small lamp to the floor with a crash. She shifted back to face him with flushed and gorgeous cheeks. “Okay, now.”
One side of his mouth turned up. “I think you just broke that lamp.”
“I don’t care.” She reached for his shoulders, pulling him down to her. “Kiss me again.”
He was powerless to do anything else. His hands found the hem of her white T-shirt, and he tugged it up, broke the kiss long enough to pull it over her head, and dropped it on the floor next to his as his mouth closed over hers once more. She groaned as his hands swept down her sides, opened her legs to pull him in closer. His fingertips found the hooks on the back of her bra, and he eased it free as her tongue tangled with his, then drew back and pulled the garment from her arms.
Her nipples immediately pebbled into hard little tips, and his mouth watered at the sight. “Lie back.”
“It’s cold in here, you know.” Her skin quivered as she leaned back until she was flat against the desk.
“I know. But I promise you won’t be cold for long. Put your feet on the edge of the desk here.” He lifted one foot and placed it where he wanted, then the other.
She shifted back. “What do you have in mind, Kendrick?”
“Everything.” Eyes locked on hers, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her flannel sleep pants, then tugged them and her panties down her legs.
They fell to the floor with a rustle. Her stomach caved in. He moved one hand to her breast and squeezed before rolling the tip gently between his thumb and forefinger. And the way her head fell back, the way her eyes drifted closed and a groan slipped from between her lips, was all the encouragement he needed.
He pushed her knees open, leaned over her, and drew one succulent breast into his mouth. Her fingers drifted up into his hair. She groaned again and arched her back, offering more. His tongue circled and swirled. He drew her in and sucked, working over one breast, and then the other, until she was quivering. And when she was trembling, when she lifted her hips to rub her silky heat against whatever part of him she could reach, he moved lower, pressing a trail of soft, wet, hungry kisses down her torso until he reached the apex of her thighs.
The familiar scent of her filled his senses, made him light-headed. He lowered his knees to the ground, pushed her legs wider, and parted her flesh with his fingers. Then he leaned forward and tasted her, drawing his tongue up and over her most sensitive spot.
“Oh, Tate.” She lifted toward his mouth. “That feels so good.”
He did it again, laving her over and over until her hand fell from her hair and slapped against the side of the desk.
“Don’t…stop,” she panted.
He couldn’t. Needed to make her go over. Wanted to taste her coming apart in his mouth. Drawing his hand from her leg, he slid his fingertips through all her silky wetness until he found her opening, then pressed two fingers inside.
“Oooh…”
She lifted, lowered, drawing him deeper with her inner muscles while he continued to drive her wild with his mouth. He rubbed that special spot so far inside. Drew her clit between his lips and suckled. And the moment he did, she arched her back and cried out, tightening around his fingers in such a way, he almost came right there in his pants at just the thought of being inside her when she climaxed like that again.
She collapsed against the desk, a sweaty mess of absolute heaven.
Tate quickly pushed to his feet, pulled the wallet from his back pocket, and found a condom. “Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”
Her eyelashes lifted, and her chocolate eyes shimmered as she looked up at him and smiled. “As if I could.”
She eased up to sitting as he made quick work of the button on his pants and ripped the foil package open. He dropped the tab on the floor as she slipped her hands inside his pants and pushed them and his boxers down his legs, freeing his erection. Cool air spread over his cock as it sprang up, hard and red. Fingers shaking, he tried to get the condom free of the wrapper, but warmth and wetness closed over the tip of his erection, instantly distracting him, and when he looked down to find Ella leaning forward, drawing him deep into her mouth, every other thought slipped right out of his mind.
The angle was odd. She couldn’t get very much of him. But her tongue brushing the underside nearly made him explode.
“Ella.” He gripped her shoulders, pushing her back with fingers he couldn’t quite keep from shaking. The condom fell against her lap. “Stop. I want you first.”
She pulled the condom free, then rolled it over his steely length and looked up with fiery eyes he never thought he’d be staring into like this again. “Then take me.”
He closed his mouth over hers, pushed her down to the desk, and moved between her legs. Her tongue tangled against his as she lined him up with all her sultry heat and lifted her hips. And as he sank inside her, she broke the kiss, dropped her head back, and groaned long and deep in a way that made his blood absolutely boil.
He braced both hands on the sides of the desk, drew out, then pressed in once more. She wrapped her legs around his hips. Gripped his forearms and held on while he drove into her. Her breasts jiggled. Her stomach quivered. And with every plunge, with every single groan, she grew wetter and tighter around him, pushing him closer to his climax and a moment he’d craved for far too long.
Sweat beaded on his skin. He watched her face. Drove deeper. Harder. Faster every time she moaned. She let go of his hips with her legs. Braced her bare feet on the edge of the desk again. Lifted to every thrust.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “So good…”
He wasn’t going to last. He gripped one of her thighs and pushed it back, shoving himself even deeper inside her, desperate to take her over with him. “Ella. Look at me.”
Her head tossed. Her fingernails dug into his forearms. But he didn’t care. Sliding the fingers of his other hand into her hair, he forced her to face him. “Only you,” he whispered when their eyes met. “You’re it for me.”
Her back bowed, and she cried out. And as her climax slammed into her, he finally let go, spilling nine years of pent-up heartache and agony and frustration until there was nothing left but bliss.
Long minutes passed. He knew he was crushing her. But she felt so good beneath him. Warm and sweet and everything he’d been missing. And his muscles weren’t working yet enough to move.
Ella’s hand landed against his shoulder, then ran across his upper back. “Oh my, that was good. I forgot how good that was. Please tell me you have at least another round of that in you tonight.”
He smiled and pressed his lips against her throat. “You might have to give me a few minutes, but I’m pretty sure I can accommodate that request.”
Her muscles tightened beneath him, and she giggled. A sound that was so sweet, he found the strength to push up on one hand and look down at her.
Her eyes were glossy, her hair a wild tangle around her face. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her lips were swollen from his mouth. But in that moment, she’d never looked more beautiful. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”
Her eyes darkened as she focused on his throat. “And you’ve always been a charmer.”
“You’re the only woman I ever wanted to charm.” He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed her knuckles one by one.
Something in her eyes said she wasn’t completely convinced, but she closed them before he could look deeper. “This is complicated. I can’t leave Holly because it’s our busiest season, and you have to be at a gig in Miami in two days.”
Oh yeah. The gig. “I can catch a flight out of Asheville Christmas morning and be back in time to tuck you into bed.” A smile tugged at his mouth. “Or the couch. Whichever.”
When she opened her eyes and frowned up at him like that would never happen, he added, “Or I can charter a plane. Don’t worry, Ella.”
Doubt crept into her pretty eyes again, and she looked down at his throat once more. “Tate, I—”
“Don’t say it, Ella.” She was about to tell him they didn’t stand a chance. Lifting her chin with one finger so she would look back into his eyes, he added, “We can make this work.”
“But I live here and you live—”
“I can live anywhere. That’s the benefit to my profession.”
“You’re saying you’d want to live in Holly three hundred and sixty-five days a year?”
Did that mean she wanted to stay here? Kelly had made it sound as if she wanted to sell the bar and leave.
He glanced toward the snow falling lightly outside the window, visualizing a future he’d been too afraid to fantasize about only hours ago. “Maybe not that much, but I could get used to a place like this. Holly has a certain je ne sais quoi about it.”
She laughed. “You speak French now?”
He grinned. “I’m all culture, baby. Didn’t you know that? We rock stars aren’t all sex, drugs, and rock and roll. At least not all the time.”
Her laugh turned into a sigh, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug once more. And he took that as a good sign. There were still things unresolved between them. He hadn’t told her he loved her yet. Hadn’t told her the real reason he was here. Was afraid of spooking her too soon. They had nine years to make up for. But she wasn’t pushing him away, and he saw that as a start.
“I guess we can worry about that later, right?” she said, threading her fingers through his hair. “I mean, twenty-four hours from now, you might be totally bored of me.”
He pushed up on one hand again. “That is never going to happen.”
Her eyes darkened, and he sensed all those doubts were rushing in again, so he brushed a lock of hair from her face, then leaned down to press his lips against hers. Soft. Gentle. As sweet as the love he felt for her. “Give it a chance, Ella. Give us a chance, and I promise all your Christmas wishes will come true.”
She hesitated, then opened to his kiss and drew him in. And as her tongue swept along his and her taste filled his senses, he prayed she listened. And believed him. Because this was one holiday he wanted her to remember for the rest of her life.
* * *
The crack of wood breaking and glass shattering jolted Ella awake.
She sat straight up on the carpet in front of the fireplace, where Tate had made a bed for them with pillows and blankets, and looked around. Her apartment was dark and silent, the only light an eerie orange glow from the streetlights outside and the red glow of embers in the hearth.
“Tate?” She held the blanket to her chest. Her muscles were loose and relaxed from hours of making love, but something in her stomach tightened as she looked toward the bathroom door. It sat ajar, the light off, no movement beyond.
“Tate?” she called again as she pushed to her feet and wrapped the blanket around her body, then glanced toward the small alcove kitchen. It too was empty.
A strange sense of foreboding tingled along her spine. Moving toward the bedroom she used as a storage closet, she pushed that door open and glanced over the dark sea of boxes. “Tate?”
Still no answer. No sign of him anywhere. She shot a look toward the clock on the wall: 4:34 a.m. Where could he have gone?
All those doubts and worries she’d pushed aside earlier in the evening came rushing back. What if he’d decided he didn’t miss her quite as much as he’d said? What if he’d gotten what he came for and had already left? What if—
Glass shattered again, and she whipped back to face the fireplace, only to realize the sound had come from the bar one floor below.
“Shit.” Panic condensed in her chest. Someone was down there. Probably the same someone who’d cut her power earlier in the week.
Tossing the blanket to the floor, she moved toward the dresser she kept pushed against the wall in the living area, pulled sweats from the bottom drawer, tugged them on, and hustled for the front door.
Her bare feet padded along the hardwood floor. Pulse pounding hard, she moved down the stairs, reached the bottom step, and yanked the door open. Then froze and gasped.
Cold air rushed over her from the broken front windows. Snow was already gathering on the hardwood floor of the pub. Chairs and tables lay in shambles. The boxes from tonight’s delivery were ripped open, bottles shattered in a pile of glass, alcohol spilling over the floor in a river of gold and brown and green.
“Oh my God…”
A hand landed on her shoulder. Fear sent Ella’s adrenaline surging, and she whipped around and struck out with her fist.
“Whoa.” Tate jerked back and held up both hands. “It’s just me.”
Ella’s hand unclenched and shot to her throat. “You scared me.”
“I didn’t mean to. I just heard your steps on the st—” His gaze drifted past her, and his eyes widened. “Holy hell.”
Ella turned to look over the pub once more, and her spirits dropped. “Who could do something like this?”
Tate’s jaw hardened, and he grasped her, then pulled her back onto the stairs. “Go back up and call the police. Right now.”
Fear shot down Ella’s spine as he stepped past her. “What are you going to do?”
“Make sure no one’s still here.”
“Tate—”
“Go, Ella.”
He moved into the bar, grabbed a broken chair and pulled a l
eg off, then gripped it in his hand like a baseball bat as he headed toward the kitchen. Realizing what he was about to do, Ella bolted for the stairs and rushed for her apartment.
She quickly found her phone, called 911, and relayed the break-in. Then she grabbed a real baseball bat from the closet and rushed back down to the bar.
Her pulse pounded in her ears as she gripped the bat in both hands and tentatively moved across the floor. She made it halfway to the bar before Tate stepped out of the hallway that led to the kitchen and frowned.
“You don’t need that. Whoever did this is long gone.”
Ella’s shoulders dropped, and the end of the bat hit the ground near her feet with a thunk. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He moved around the mess of bottles and boxes, careful not to step on any glass, and took the bat from her hand. “Back door’s wide open, but there’s no one in the kitchen or the cellar. And the alley is empty. I checked.”
“I called the police. They should be here any minute.”
“Good.”
Slowly, Ella looked over the pub once more, and her spirits sank lower. This was more damage than she’d endured a few days ago with the power outage. This would shut her down on the busiest night of her year.
“Hey.” His arm slid around her shoulder. “We’ll fix this.”
She wasn’t sure they could. Not before opening tomorrow. “Where were you?”
“What?”
“When I woke, you weren’t there.” She turned to look up at him.
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry about that. I went upstairs to find my phone. Needed to call the band to let them know I’d meet them in Miami. I didn’t want to wake you.”
That made sense. Except…a phone call could have waited until morning. Who talked at four a.m.? Even rock stars had to sleep.
“Look,” Tate said, “I need to go grab a shirt before the cops get here. Are you gonna be okay down here alone, or do you want to come up with me?”
For the first time, she realized he was wearing nothing but loose-fitting jeans. No shirt. No shoes. Not even socks. She looked away from his chiseled chest and abs. “Um…I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” He squeezed her shoulder, then leaned in and kissed her temple. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”