Together for Christmas

by Lisa Plumley

  “So I can fix that.” With a grin, Kristen shucked her boots. They clunked to the rug covering the hardwood floor. She wriggled atop the mattress with her back to him for a few more seconds, then she tossed aside something else. “And a bonus for you, too, just to help you out as a wintertime novice.”

  Grinning, she launched herself at him again. They collided on the bed in an impassioned tangle of arms and legs and heart-pounding middles, and Casey realized in a daze that it had been her tights that Kristen had sent sailing across the bedroom. Which meant her legs were bare now, bare and silky beneath his hands, and it occurred to him that she might have slipped off her panties, too, in which case there would be no stopping them.

  Riveted by the thought, Casey felt himself grow twice as engorged, twice as hard, twice as ready. If he didn’t get his pants off soon, he might as well kiss the zipper good-bye. Because there was no way a measly few inches of metallic fastener could contain . . . well, everything he felt for Kristen.

  Flatteringly, she noticed. Before he could fully explore her potential under-the-dress nudity, she wriggled sideways, took a good, long look at the bulge in his pants, then drew in a deep breath. Her dark-eyed gaze lifted to his.

  “Yes, please,” Kristen said with a seductive eyebrow raise. “I’d like all of that. As quickly as possible, too.”

  Casey almost groaned aloud. “I can’t wait to give it to you.”

  She smiled. “I’d like to point out that you’re already waiting. Seeing as how you’re still wearing all those clothes.”

  “Well, in the interest of fair play . . .”

  Casey whipped off his suit vest, unbuttoned his shirt, and did his best not to pant too loudly. He’d never felt so driven, so desperate, so full of desire and need and . . . tenderness? Again?

  No, it couldn’t be that. Because they were only here to have a good time. Yes, he’d assured Kristen that there was more between them than just a deskbound quickie, but there were miles of wiggle room between that and what he might be feeling now.

  Even if he loved her, it would be a mistake to let her know. Being vulnerable could only lead to trouble. Casey knew that. He knew that the same way he knew how it felt to breathe.

  Which he almost forgot to do just then. Because while he’d been wrestling with his demons and the many buttons of his shirt, Kristen had been busy working her magic on his zipper.

  Biting her lip in anticipation, clearly reveling in her erotic victory over his pants, she trailed her fingers over his crotch. This time, Casey did groan. He couldn’t help it. He levered his hips upward, all thoughts emptying from his head like the unnecessary complications they were. There was nothing in the world better than Kristen touching him. There was nothing better than her looking at him, devouring him with her eyes, letting him know that she wanted this, wanted him, wanted more.

  In fact, if all Casey ever had was this moment, this feeling between them, this first-night, last-night togetherness . . .

  Well, it might have to be enough. He knew that, too.

  “Mmm.” With a seductive purr, Kristen slipped her hand into his open fly. She caressed him, making his boxer briefs feel tighter and more of an unwanted barrier than ever before. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about touching you this way.” Her gaze lifted to his, even as she went on stroking him—even as she made him tremble. “It was a pretty good fantasy, but I have to say, reality is even better. You feel . . . amazing.”

  He felt constricted. Also, yearning and urgent and sorry he hadn’t yet tugged off her dress. Mindlessly, Casey lowered his hands to its knitted hem, intending to do exactly that. But then he got distracted—between Kristen’s caresses and his own discovery that if he slid his palms up her thighs, savoring the sleek curves and soft skin he found there, it made Kristen moan in a very satisfying way—and he forgot to undress her at all.

  Instead, Casey swept his hands higher, to her hips, feeling her shake now beneath his touch, and he kissed her again, even as they rolled over on the bed once more, and he didn’t want her to stop touching him, except that if she didn’t stop, he would forget his gentlemanly share-and-share-alike impulses completely. With a groan of sheer desire, Casey broke off from their next kiss and panted against her neck.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured, helpless to resist cradling her breasts in both hands now, feeling her nipples peak beneath her dress’s cozy knit. “I’ve got to have more.”

  Slyly, she arched her brows. “More than this?”

  As she said it, she caressed him again, bringing him to an even greater sense of urgency. Casey realized, hazily, that if he didn’t speak now, he might lose the ability to do so for . . . oh, several hours more. He gritted his teeth, then nodded.

  “Yes,” he managed to say. “A lot more than that.”

  She kissed him, then delicately trailed her fingertips along the turgid length of him. “More than this?”

  Casey shuddered. He closed his eyes. He nodded. “Yes.”

  This time, coming up with additional words was beyond him. As though sensing that, Kristen moved languorously nearer. Her breasts pressed against his chest; her mouth met his, then delivered a naughty bite to his lower lip. “More than . . . this?”

  She straddled him again, pushed him to the mattress, then slowly slid herself down his body. Her tumbledown hair dragged sensuously over him as she kissed his neck, his chest, his taut belly. With a needful gesture, Kristen wrenched apart his unbuttoned shirt. She stroked him, slid a little lower, then brought her lips to the bare skin just visible at the junction of his open fly. She kissed him there. Casey nearly levitated.

  Her intentions were plain. She was going to kiss him . . . everywhere. His mouth. His chest. His belly. His cock.

  At the thought, Casey moaned again. He hadn’t even taken off his own clothes the way he’d planned, much less gotten Kristen naked. How had she taken control of things between them?

  He didn’t know. But he did know how to get it back.

  So Casey thrust his hands in her hair, tilted her face to his, then gave her a brilliant smile. “I have a better idea.”

  Kristen smiled back. Then she looked directly—and admiringly—at him. “Better than this?” She chuckled, then made her point by caressing him again. “I don’t think so.”

  “I do.” Another gasp. “I’d like a chance to prove it.”

  “Mmm?” Still seeming engrossed by the contents of his black boxer briefs, Kristen went on looking at him. With apparent effort, she finally raised her gaze from his cock. “Prove what?”

  “I’ll show you,” Casey assured her. Then he did, starting with a heady, tongue-sweet kiss—and ending with Kristen pulling off her sweater dress . . . exactly the way he’d hoped she would.

  Or maybe even better than the way he’d hoped she would. Because she scrambled up from the bed with a provocative gleam in her eyes, then sent her dress and bra sailing off to join the rest of their cast-off clothes without a second’s hesitation.

  Casey nearly applauded. He’d never seen a woman undress with quite the same élan as Kristen did, it occurred to him. Because where some women got naked nervously, and a few got naked proudly, Kristen got naked while exuding an unmistakable sense of keen anticipation. It was as though she knew that only good things could come from baring herself completely to him.

  The idea was as alien to Casey as pie-in-a-jar had been.

  In that moment, though, Kristen possessed exactly what he needed and wanted, and she exulted in that knowledge. She was womanly and openhearted. She was sweet and indomitable. She was real and imperfect and completely at ease with that, and although they had never been together before, she was ready to give and receive and take all the pleasure they could share, and as Casey watched her turn to face him, it was all he could do not to gawk in wonder. Because where he definitely appreciated her pert derrière and graceful back and poised arms—and where he absolutely loved her hips and thighs and waist and shoulders and lovely rou
nded breasts, too—what he truly enjoyed seeing most was the promise in her eyes as Kristen looked at him.

  “I’m going to make you so happy you’re here,” she said.

  Shaken, Casey swallowed hard. “I’m already happy.”

  “Oh, you have no idea.” Smiling, Kristen came a little closer. She trailed her hand over her naked thigh. Then her hip. Then higher, to her breast. Her budded pink nipple pushed against her fingers. “You can get much happier than that.”

  To demonstrate that, she came closer. She took off his shirt in one certain motion, a full-service striptease that left Casey glad to be shirtless for her. Her bare breasts bobbed enticingly in front of his face, just out of reach, as Kristen leaned back again, still standing near the bed, to examine him.

  When she nodded, Casey felt as though he’d won . . . everything.

  “You look great,” she told him. “Even better than I imagined.” Her big-eyed gaze confirmed that it was true. Her attention roved approvingly from his shoulders to his arms, from his chest to his abs, then lower still. She smiled. “You belong someplace where you can be shirtless all the time. You’re hiding your light under a bushel.”

  He wanted to make a joke of that. He wanted to remain unaffected by that cornball Midwestern saying of hers and not feel pleased that Kristen liked the way he looked. He wanted to remind her that ordinarily he would have been shirtless on a beach somewhere at this time of year. But Casey just couldn’t do it. Transfixed by her easy nudity—by the tantalizing nearness of her hips, her thighs, the blond triangle of curls at their apex, and all the glorious rest of her—he could only nod.

  Then he realized . . . Kristen had done it again! She’d beaten him at his own game. She’d taken control of their tryst.

  If he wasn’t careful, she’d take control of his heart, too, Casey knew. Or at least she would have done that, if his heart had been available for the taking. As it was . . .

  As it was, he was thinking and feeling, when he should have been doing. So he reached out and took Kristen’s hand. He pulled her nearer to him. He inhaled the intoxicating scent of her—that dizzying amalgamation of cinnamon and sugar and femaleness—and he brought his other hand to her back to hold her close to him, and in the moment when Casey finally brought his mouth to her breast and heard her moan, he realized something else.

  All he wanted was Kristen’s pleasure. All he needed was to make her feel . . . everything. So Casey pulled her down to meet him. He kissed her with a hunger and a hardness that surprised even him. And he lost himself in the feel of her warm, soft skin, her incredible feminine shape, her sweet, spicy scent and her hot, wet warmth and her cries of enjoyment and her bedazzled, head-tossing looks of wonder as he went on loving her.

  Because that’s what he was doing, whether she knew it or not, Casey realized as he drew Kristen back onto the bed and into his arms. During those long, intimate moments, he lavished her with all the love he possessed and all the skill he could muster, and as her breathy cries filled the room, he knew he would never forget the way Kristen looked as he drove her on and on, as she clutched the Christmassy printed sheets, as she shuddered in ecstasy, as she came undone, screaming in his arms, with the glow of the holiday lights all around them both.

  She’d never been more open to him. Or more beautiful. But Casey had little time to think about that. Because even as his ears still rang with the husky sounds of Kristen’s pleasure, she opened her eyes. She angled her flushed, radiant face toward him. Then she trailed her fingers down his chest to his cock.

  “I think we’ve already established that I want this, too,” she murmured with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Please.”

  “Well, since you’re being so polite . . .” Giddily, Casey smiled at her, feeling almost overcome with gladness at being with her this way. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

  Moaning, Kristen clenched the sheets again. “Hurry up.”

  “Bossy, aren’t you?” Secretly loving that, he kissed her again. He situated himself between her thighs, where she felt exactly as hot and wet and ready as he’d dreamed. Then he teased them both by entering her . . . just barely. “Mmm. How’s that?”

  “More.” Kristen tossed her head. “Please.”

  “Ah. Yes. More.” With an impatient shudder of his own, Casey pushed further. Bliss enveloped him, making him groan. Somehow, he managed to hold back an urge to thrust harder. “How about now?” he inquired in a raspy tone. “Better?”

  Kristen’s incoherent response counted as a no, he figured. Especially since she clutched at his back, his hips, his ass, trying to bring him closer to her. “Please, Casey. I want—”

  “Yes?”

  “You,” she finally said, opening her eyes with an adoring look he knew he would always treasure, no matter how unwise it was to do so. “I want you, Casey,” she said. “Please—”

  “You’ve got me,” he assured her roughly, partly to stop her from saying anything more. Because Casey couldn’t believe in anything more. Not then. Not for him. Not even with her.

  A heartbeat later, he pushed that knowledge from his mind and finally made Kristen his. He united them both in the best possible way. Hot, pulsing, grinding together, they made real every fantasy, and it was everything Casey had ever imagined.

  Again and again he thrust inside her; again and again she met him with an exuberance and a passion that humbled him. With Kristen, he wanted more and more . . . and he got it, too, with a thundering, heart-pounding, headboard rattling climax that left Casey shouting her name. He’d never felt anything like it.

  But then, he’d never known anyone like her.

  Spent and replete afterward, Casey lolled on the mattress with Kristen wrapped in his arms. It was possible he’d just had an out-of-body experience. It was also possible that Kristen had come again, just before him, with another shout and a series of sweet convulsions that had tipped him right over the edge.

  Wearing a beaming grin, Kristen gazed at the ceiling. Her hair flowed across the pillows. Her hand clasped his. Her profile appeared both enchanting and enchantingly familiar to him. Because now that they’d shared . . . well, everything with each other, Casey had the sense that they were forever changed by the experience. No one else would ever know Kristen in exactly the way he did. No one else would ever know him the way she did.

  Suddenly alarmed by the thought, Casey went still. He felt freakishly vulnerable and foolishly happy, all at the same time. It occurred to him that maybe those two states went hand in hand somehow, and that was why he’d never experienced them in this way before. Because he was never vulnerable, not anymore, and he was rarely—if he was truly honest with himself—completely happy.

  Did that mean he couldn’t be happy without being vulnerable? If so, screw that, Casey thought with a burst of belligerence. Because not even happiness was worth opening up like an idiot. That was just asking to be kicked in the teeth.

  But then Kristen sighed and hugged him close, and Casey forgot about being introspective. Because the here and now was all he’d ever been able to count on. That hadn’t changed just because he’d had mind-blowing sex. He had to remember that.

  “Wow,” Kristen breathed, looking starry-eyed. “That was . . .”

  “Earth-shattering,” Casey supplied.

  “Yeah.” Her quixotic tone made him happy. So did the way she snuggled even closer, then put her head on his shoulder. “Unless we had a rare Michigan earthquake just now, I think there’s only one explanation for what happened here tonight.”

  Grinning over her teasing, Casey stroked her hair. He could have spent all night this way—with frequent breaks for more erotic activities thrown in, of course. “Mmm? What’s that?”

  “Christmas came early this year,” Kristen told him with a smile in her voice. “That’s what happened. I got just what I wanted, too.”

  “Good. No coal in your stocking, then?”

  “Hey. If that’s a euphemism—”

  “It’s not.” Ward
ing off the idea with his palm outstretched toward her holiday lights, Casey laughed. “Cut me some slack. I’m a Christmas newbie. I don’t know what the protocol is.”

  “Not for long, you won’t be a newbie,” Kristen assured him with a kiss. “Speaking of which . . . I have big plans for you.”

  Casey hoped those plans included more romps between her snowman-printed flannel sheets. He was seriously never going to be able to look at novelty Christmas sheets without getting a hard-on. If that’s what she meant . . . “I’m yours to command.”

  But Kristen missed his suggestive tone. Instead, she pursed her lips, clearly still considering her “big plans” for him.

  “First, I’m going to take you candlelight ice-skating at the Kismet rink,” she announced. “Then maybe afterward—”

  “Will you be wearing one of those short, flippy little ice-skating skirts? Because that has some promise.” Grinning anew, Casey pictured it. “Maybe I’ll agree, if I get to see that.”

  “Then some Christmas caroling,” Kristen went on, disappointingly neither confirming nor denying her intentions to wear a sexy skating skirt for him. “I know Talia and Walden and Gareth and Avery will want to come along for that. After that—”

  “Is there a sexy outfit for Christmas caroling, too?” Casey wanted to know. “Because if you’re going to be carrying an old-timey candle and wearing one of those long monk robes—”

  “They’re called choir robes.”

  “—then I don’t know if I’m on board with caroling.”

  “You will be, once I get through with you.”

  “Oh yeah?” Unreasonably intrigued by Kristen’s cocksure tone, Casey rolled over. Nude and happy, he propped his head in his hand so he could better enjoy the sight of her looking nude and happy. “Are you going to brainwash me? Convert me? Drug me?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I’m going to persuade you with sex to do whatever I want. No matter how Christmassy it is.”