If Kisses Were Snowflakes

by Serenity Woods

  She lifted her chin, excitement bubbling away inside her at the thought of going home with this man. And, if things went according to plan, of letting him kiss her, touch her, take off her clothes, and make love to her. Ooh... What a marvelous present to find in her stocking on Christmas Eve!

  “Jesus, it’s cold,” he said, pulling his jacket close around his neck. “I’m sorry, I forgot you nearly had hypothermia. You shouldn’t be out in such bad weather.”

  “I’m warm inside,” she said, and it sounded soppy, but she meant it. She felt as if she’d eaten a bowl of porridge and then drunk a glass of whisky, radiating heat from the inside out. When Hal had kissed her, her innards had turned into melted caramel. She couldn’t imagine what it was going to feel like when she didn’t have a padded jacket and mittens on and she could touch his skin.

  He glanced at her, smiling. “That’s a nice thing to say.”

  “I mean it,” she said. “I’m so glad I met you. Thank God you saw my car the other night. You could so easily have driven past me.” She sobered a little at the thought that if he’d done that, she might not have made it through the night, or at the very least, she would have been very ill from hypothermia.

  He stopped walking and caught her arm, turned her to face him, and before she knew it, he was kissing her again, his hand cupping her head and holding her steady, his mouth slanting across hers. Her heart hammered, but she remained still, conscious of the silence, the falling snowflakes around them, touching her skin with gentle fingers.

  When he eventually pulled back, he said, “Sorry, but you looked sad. I’m going to kiss you each time you do that.”

  “I’ll be looking sad a lot, then,” she said vehemently.

  Laughing, he put his arm around her, and they continued walking along the road to his cottage.

  “Does it bother you that I’m five years older than you?” she asked.

  “No.” He looked down at her. “Does it bother you?”

  She gave a tiny shrug. “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s your age inside that matters. And I think you’re very young of heart.”

  She smiled and squeezed his fingers. If he didn’t care, she wasn’t going to let it bother her.

  After they’d passed through the gate, they paused in the porch while he took off his gloves, found his key, and inserted it in the lock. Then he hesitated.

  “I just want to make sure,” he said softly. “You’re definitely okay with this? I can’t quite believe my luck.” His lips twisted.

  Angel’s heart went out to him. The story he’d told her that evening of his marriage was one she suspected wasn’t exclusive to him. Too often, a person’s heart was crushed by someone they loved. He deserved so much more.

  Placing her hands on his chest, she reached up and kissed him.

  This time, she let her passion show through, not bothering to hide how much she wanted him. She’d never done this before, never slept with a guy so soon after meeting him. It felt exciting and liberating to give in to her passion for once, not to worry about the future, but to live wholly in the present, and to act on instinct rather than having to worry about all the myriad ways that this might turn out.

  Her desire burned through her, making all the hairs rise on the back of her neck, her nipples tighten in her bra, and an ache begin deep inside her. She delved her tongue into his mouth, pressing up against him, and he groaned and tightened his fingers in her hair, pulling on it to make her tip her head back so he could kiss down her neck.

  “Jesus.” She shuddered at the feel of his lips on her skin, his mouth closing over the place where her pulse beat so rapidly. “I’ve got to get this coat off.”

  He straightened and turned the key in the lock, and they stumbled into the hallway, kissing again even before he’d shut the door behind them.

  Angel threw her mittens on the floor, fumbled with the zipper on her coat, and tugged it down. He helped her free her arms, leaving her lips briefly to hang their coats on a peg by the door. She pulled off her boots, and he did the same, and then they were kissing again, moving along the hallway, enjoying this new sensation of feeling curves and muscles through the thinner layers of clothing.

  Hal stopped in the hallway and murmured, “Bedroom?”

  She shook her head. “Let’s go in the living room, it’ll be warmer in there.”

  “Let me make up the fire, then.” He led her inside, and she was relieved to see he’d banked it before he’d gone out, so the room was already warm, the logs glowing red. “Why don’t you get us a drink?” he said, bending to stoke it and add more wood.

  So she went into the kitchen, found two glasses and the cabinet where he stowed his spirits, and poured them both a small shot of whisky. When she came back into the living room, the fire was leaping in the grate, and he’d shaken out a couple of thick blankets over the couch.

  “I’m worried about you getting cold,” he said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

  “Not much chance of that.” She pushed the door shut behind her and handed him a glass. He extracted one hand and took it, and they both had a mouthful of the whisky. She watched him as she swallowed, feeling it sear down her throat.

  The fairy lights twinkled on the tree and the firelight cast the room in a warm orange glow, but he’d left off the lights, making her feel as if they’d been transported to a magical grotto. In the North Pole, Santa was packing up his sleigh, and excited children all over the country were going to bed, determined not to sleep. But here, in this warm room, it was just her and Hal, two consenting adults, with the whole evening to explore each other.

  She placed her glass on the coffee table, then took his glass out of his hand and put it next to hers. Finally, she moved closer to him and lifted up to kiss him again.

  This time, she kissed him slowly, brushing his lips with her own, tracing her tongue across them until he opened his mouth with a sigh, allowing her access. She delved her tongue inside, sliding it against his, and he rewarded her with a sexy groan, moving his arms around her to pull her against him.

  Angel tugged up the bottom of his sweater and slipped her hands beneath it, onto his warm skin. Slowly, she moved her fingers up, tracing over his flat stomach, across his ribs, around to his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles, the bliss of exploring his very different body. Now she’d taken off her boots, she realized just how tall he was, and how broad his shoulders were. Under his sweater, she slipped her hands right up his back to his shoulder blades, skating over them, and sighed against his lips at his answering grunt of pleasure.

  “I’d forgotten how wonderful it is just to touch and be touched,” she murmured as he lifted her sweater and began his own exploration.

  “Heavenly,” he agreed, brushing his fingers around her waist to her back, where he began to trace them up her spine.

  “Mmm.” She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the beautiful sensations skittering through her. His hands were warm, and he took his time, moving them up beneath her sweater, tracing her ribs, stroking so lightly it gave her goose bumps, even though it was growing increasingly warm in the room. When he brushed up her sides to just under her arms, her nipples tightened so hard it almost hurt, and he hadn’t been anywhere near her breasts yet.

  Part of her wanted this to last forever, for this to be her Brigadoon, just her and Hal for a hundred years, touching, kissing, enjoying the sweet moments before things got really hot and heavy. But equally, her body ached for more, to have his skin next to hers, to have him moving inside her.

  Moving back a little, she caught hold of the bottom of her sweater, lifted it over her head, and dropped it to the floor.

  Hal’s eyes widened, and as she came back to him and lifted her arms around his neck, he placed his hands on her waist again, brushing her skin with his thumbs.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze drinking in the view of her breasts encased in their Christmas-red lacy cups.

 
His use of the swear word, the way his lids had slid to half-mast, the sultry look in them, all told her that this guy was going to be amazing. He might have painted himself as lacking experience, but there was a fire inside him that was going to engulf her, she just knew it, if she could set him free.

  Heart racing, reaching behind her, she unclipped her bra, drew the straps down her arms, and tossed it onto the floor.

  Hal inhaled sharply. “Shit,” he said, and then he laughed, slid a hand into her hair, and crushed his lips to hers.

  Angel gave a long sigh that turned into a moan as he kissed her deeply, plunging his tongue into her mouth. She caught hold of the bottom of his sweater and tugged it up, and he broke the connection briefly so she could whip it over his head before he returned his lips to hers.

  His warm hands were on her breasts, and she sighed and smoothed her hands up over his shoulders to his neck and then into his hair, clutching at the short strands as he rubbed his thumbs across her nipples. He plucked them gently with his thumbs and forefingers, and she scored her nails lightly across his scalp, arching her back so she could press her breasts into his hands.

  God, it felt amazing. It was as if he was waking her body up, teasing it back to life after such a long winter of being alone. She dropped her hands to his waist and undid the button of his jeans, then carefully slid the zipper down over the erection that was straining to break free beneath. He murmured as the back of her fingers brushed it, and she cupped it with her hand and stroked him, nearly fainting at the thought of taking the long, hard length inside her.

  He let the jeans drop, then kicked them off and bent to flick off his socks.

  “I don’t care if you leave them on if I can do the same,” Angel said. “My feet are freezing and although socks aren’t particularly sexy, cold feet are even less so.”

  He laughed. “You sure?”

  “I want you, Halvar Carlson, I don’t care what you’re wearing, and I don’t care if you leave your boots on. Your body is amazing.” She ran her hands down his chest to his black boxer-briefs, her lips parting at the sight of his erection. “Jesus, look at you.” She stroked him again, enjoying the way he swelled in her hand. “God, I want you so much.”

  He gave her a helpless look and flicked open the buttons of her jeans. “I don’t know who sent you to me, but whoever they are, I hope they know how grateful I am.”

  She let the jeans drop and stepped out of them. Now she was only wearing her red lacy panties. Okay, she also had thick cream socks on, but it didn’t look as if he found them too much of a turn off.

  As if to prove it, he began to kiss her again, and she felt him move her slowly backward. They were a couple of feet away from the wall by the mantelpiece, and before long she met the wall with a bump and a gasp, making her break the kiss temporarily. The wall was surprisingly warm from the fire, and she looked up at him with wide eyes and moistened her lips.

  “Hal,” she whispered.

  He moved up close to her, but didn’t kiss her for a moment, just looked into her eyes. His pupils had dilated, and his eyes were dark with passion.

  “Do you have any idea how much I want you?” he murmured.

  She felt him press his erection against her. “A little.” Her eyelids fluttered.

  He gave a wry smile, moving his hips so he was arousing her. “If I’d have thought a week ago that someone would be sending me an angel... Mind you, you don’t act much like your name.” He kissed around to her neck.

  “I told you not to be fooled by the name,” she said, shivering as he nibbled her earlobe. “And if someone had told me I’d encounter a real, live Viking, I’d never have believed them.”

  “Jeg lengter etter deg,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Norwegian for ‘I long for you’.” He kissed down her neck, over her collarbone, and then down to her breasts.

  Jesus, she really had met Ragnar Lothbrok in all his glory.

  He stopped moving down, hesitating for a moment. “Is this okay?”

  She gave him a puzzled look. “I’m practically naked, Hal, and on the verge of begging you to take me. What makes you think it wouldn’t be?”

  He didn’t say anything, just rubbed his thumb across the tight peak.

  “Rebecca didn’t like it,” Angel stated softly.

  He didn’t reply, but his frown told her she was right. She’d once read in Cosmo that not all women liked their breasts to be touched, but it was the first time she’d heard it first hand.

  “You can touch any part of me you like, with whatever you like,” she told him firmly. “Within reason. I’m not keen on hot wax.”

  He gave her an amused look. “I’ll leave the candles out of it, then.” He dropped his gaze to her breasts, then lowered his head. He brushed his tongue across one of her nipples, and she closed her eyes and didn’t worry about holding back her low moan, wanting him to know how much she liked it.

  Obviously encouraged, he took the nipple into his mouth and sucked, and she clenched her hand in his hair. “Oh God,” she whispered. “That’s amazing.”

  He muttered something, she wasn’t sure what, and then he was kissing down her stomach, dropping to his knees, his hot tongue lacing across her skin. He hooked his fingers in the elastic of her panties and pulled them down, and she’d only just stepped out of them when he lifted her left leg and hooked it over his shoulder, and buried his mouth right in her core.

  “Fuck.” She arched her back, breathing in sharply at the sensation of his warm tongue sliding through her folds. “Oh God, Hal...”

  It had been so long since a man had done this for her, and her fingers clawed at his shoulder, her other hand tugging at his hair as he aroused her with his mouth, teasing her clit with the tip of his tongue until her knees were trembling.

  He pulled away, pushing himself back up, and then his mouth was on hers, and she could taste herself on his tongue.

  “I want you,” he said, his voice hoarse, his teeth grazing her lip.

  “Have me, then,” she whispered. “I’m all yours, Hal. I want you so much, too. I have since the moment you carried me into your house. You’re a hundred-percent male, and if I don’t have you inside me soon, I’m going to self-combust.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Hal’s head was spinning, his body aching with desire. He couldn’t put into words how much he needed this woman right now, but luckily he didn’t have to, because she was already walking over to her purse on the table, and when she came back to him, she had a condom in her fingers.

  The last thing he wanted to do was discuss his previous sexual relationship with her, because that was hardly polite and he still couldn’t shake the feel of disloyalty of speaking about Rebecca, but he wished he could tell Angel just what a voyage of exploration this was. He could hardly remember his early exploits, and his adult sexual history had been a journey through a land of obstacles that he’d had to tread carefully to avoid. It wasn’t to say every time he’d slept with Rebecca it had been awful by any means, but it was only now that he realized how different their attitudes to sex had been. She’d disliked any kind of spontaneity, and she’d made it clear that having sex anywhere but in the bedroom was not a matter up for discussion.

  In contrast, Angel... Hal couldn’t find the words. She was tearing off the wrapper, and when she looked at him for confirmation, he nodded, his lips parting as she placed the condom on his erection and slowly rolled it down. His heart was pumping so fast that he was as hard as a rock, and she sighed as the condom reached the bottom. He watched, breathless with wonder, as she reached under herself and gathered some of her own moisture on her fingers, then stroked it down his erection, lubricating it before she pulled him closer to her and lifted her leg around his hips. Fucking hell. She wanted him to take her right there, against the wall.

  He hadn’t expected this—any of it. Over the past few days, in his daydreams, part of him had wondered whether they might make it to the bedroom, but in his f
antasies it had been under the covers, with him nervous of making the wrong move, and Angel too shy to give him any guidance.

  In his wildest dreams, he hadn’t thought it would be like this...

  He didn’t need to be told twice. Placing his hands under her bottom, he lifted her easily, smirking when she gasped, her eyes widening, and then he held her as he moved his hips until the tip of his erection parted her folds.

  As slowly as he could, he lowered her down, sliding inside her until he was right up to the hilt. They both gave a long groan, their breaths mingling, their lips meeting in another long kiss. It was something else he hadn’t told Angel—that Rebecca hadn’t liked to kiss using her tongue. Angel clearly didn’t have the same inhibition. Her tongue met his thrust for thrust, sending him spiraling into lust, his body heating until it felt as if he was on fire.

  Or maybe it was just that the room was growing warm, heated by the roaring fire, the closed door keeping in all the warmth. He could feel sweat forming between his shoulder blades and at the base of his throat, but rather than be put off by this, Angel rubbed her thumb there and then sucked it, a gesture that nearly made him come, it was so fucking hot.

  He thrust hard without thinking, his body taking over from his conscious attempt to take it slow and gentle, but Angel just moaned and tipped her head back on the wall. Shaking his head, wondering what he’d done to deserve such an amazing gift, he began to move properly, plunging into her soft flesh. She clutched her hands in his hair and said, “Fuck, yes,” and he couldn’t stop himself laughing at that.

  “You’ve driving me insane,” he said, lifting her off the wall and carrying her over to the sofa. “I’m only going to last seconds if you carry on like this.”

  “Is that a complaint?” She squealed as he lowered himself down, still inside her, leaving her sitting astride him.

  “Nope.” He shifted until he was comfortable, then slid a hand to the back of her head and pulled her down for another kiss.