by Toni Blake
And that’s what she did.
Her breasts ached for his touch, so when he eased a hand upward from her waist to stroke his thumb across one nipple through her sweater and bra, she gasped even amid their kiss. And then he began to shape and mold, massage the soft flesh in his hand, his every caress sending shock waves through her and straight to her panties.
Oh Lord, she shouldn’t have waited so long—she felt this almost too much. Every touch was like fire on her skin, a fire that set off tumultuous earthquakes inside her.
She never even thought about hiding her responses. She’d never been good at pretending, and she’d pretended nothing with Shane so far, so why change that now? She didn’t think she could even if she wanted to. So when his kisses dropped to her neck again and she heard herself panting, sighing feverishly, it never occurred to her to hold that in, to hold back on expressing the pleasure he delivered to her.
And by the time his hands dropped to the bottom hem of her sweater, sliding underneath, his palms gliding up her sides and onto the cups of her bra, she’d almost ceased thinking altogether. Once she’d made this grand decision to have sex with him, she’d been in it all the way, no doubts or regrets or worries, and now she just wanted to bask in every aspect of the experience.
Both his hands closed fully over her breasts and a low moan left her throat. And the bra she’d chosen tonight was a thin, lacy one, and when his thumbs began to stroke across her taut nipples, the tips of his thumbs lingering, playing with them, she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. She’d forgotten how this felt—how consuming such touches could be.
Soon enough, he was reaching to pull her sweater off over her head and she raised her arms, helping him remove it with ease. And up until now, she had, in ways, felt timid and almost childish around him—letting so many kinds of fear get in the way of their attraction—but in this moment, standing before him in the firelight in her bra, taking in the movement of his eyes as they danced across her skin, she felt like a fully sexual woman.
“Damn, Candy,” he murmured. “I knew you were a pretty little thing, but . . .”
“But what?” she breathed.
“But I didn’t know you were so fucking hot.”
Her breath hitched on another little gasp as the words traveled through her, saturating her being. They made her feel hot. Made her become hot.
“I’m even hotter,” she began tentatively—but then pushed back the very urge to be tentative and continued, “with the rest of my clothes off.”
And for the first time, a low groan echoed from his throat. And she could feel the full measure of his desire, too—in the dark, shaded look in his eyes, the way his jaw hung slack. And in the way he said, “Then what are we waiting for, honey?”
She bit her lip. Asked the only necessary question. “Do you have . . . ?” A condom.
But she didn’t need to voice that part, because he quickly said, “Never leave home without it.”
The statement brought a grim reminder. He’s had a lot of sex. With a lot of women.
But don’t think about that; don’t let that intimidate you.
So she just gave a short nod and said, “Good.”
Then he looked toward the foyer, the big Victorian house’s staircase. “You wanna go upstairs?”
And she softly said, “No—it’s too far away. Here.”
In response, he stepped up close again, reached for the button on her blue jeans, flicking it open.
After which she pushed the unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders, watching him shrug free of it, then reached for the bottom edge of the dark T-shirt he wore. She lifted it up, dropped her eyes to take in the lean muscles of his stomach, and tried not to shudder even though the muscles in her own stomach rippled at the sight.
And maybe with a tinge more fear. Fear now of what this would be like. Would she measure up? Would any old hints of nervousness show through?
Push it down, push it down.
She did. Then raised her gaze back to him as she thrust the T-shirt up over a broad, muscular chest that made her heart quiver, and watched as he ripped it off over his head.
And talk about hot. Of its own volition, her tongue came out to touch her upper lip. Seeing him shirtless took her breath away.
And then she experienced something she never had before—even with Bobby. Abject urgency.
Her heart suddenly beat faster. Molten lava seemed to shoot through her veins. And she could barely speak—but when she managed to, she said one little word. “Hurry.”
And then things moved fast, which was what she wanted now—badly. She didn’t hesitate to reach for the button on his jeans, then the zipper. She pushed the denim from his hips to reveal snug, sexy, black boxer briefs underneath, and he shoved her jeans to her thighs, uncovering white panties printed with pink snowflakes.
“God, that’s cute,” he murmured low.
But she wasn’t in a cute mood, so she just said, “Take them off me.”
They both hurried the rest of the way out of their jeans before Shane placed his hands back on her hips, guiding her backward toward the couch.
She reclined on it, more ready for this than she’d been for anything in a long time, and just as he was lowering himself atop her—he pulled back, stood up. “Shit,” he murmured. Then rushed to grab up his jeans and dig out a well-worn brown leather wallet, plucking a square foil packet from inside.
Meeting her gaze again, he cast a grin that confirmed he’d definitely made Santa’s naughty list. “You got me so excited I forgot, that fast.”
She bit her lip, her back arching involuntarily, like a cat. “Don’t make me wait any longer, Shane.”
And he didn’t. Kneeling next to her, he smoothly drew her snowflake panties down and off. Then shrugged free of his own underwear, lingering just long enough to let her study him there for a scintillating moment before he rolled on the condom.
And then he was between her parted thighs, positioning himself, pressing into her, making her hold her breath with anticipation—until he pushed, driving gently, gently but oh so firmly, until he sank into her. A high sigh of pleasure left her as her eyes fell shut.
Oh Lord, it felt good, right. To be filled with him.
It created a sensation like no other.
And she wanted to stay connected to him like this forever.
Above her, his breath caught. From excitement, arousal. She liked it. “So tight,” he rasped.
It made her own breath thready and a little jagged. “It’s . . . been a while,” she admitted.
He spoke low and sexy in her ear. “So you’re a good girl. That’s what I thought. On Santa’s nice list,” he added with a chuckle.
“Not tonight,” she promised him.
And at this, he cast a wicked grin and said, “Remember when you were teaching me to string popcorn, what you said about pushing the needle in to the soft spot?”
“Mmm hmm,” she affirmed.
“I was thinking about this then, wondering how it would feel.”
She sucked in her breath. “And?”
“A hell of a lot better than stringing popcorn.”
And then he began to move in her. And she met his thrusts, their bodies taking on that primal rhythm, old as time, in the glow of the Christmas tree.
Part of Candice couldn’t believe this was happening—it felt almost surreal. But the rest of her simply basked in it. It feels surreal because you waited so long to give yourself to a guy again. And she was glad she hadn’t waited even one more night. This was indeed the perfect Christmas present.
Shane cupped Candy’s ass as he rained kisses across her neck, chest, breasts—even though they hadn’t gotten around to taking her bra off yet, an oversight he needed to fix.
So he eased his hands behind her back and smoothly undid the hook, rife with anticipation as the bra loosened around her and she freed her arms from his neck long enough to let him pull the delicate lace away.
A low sound left his throa
t at the sight of her pert breasts and puckered pink nipples. She looked like some sort of perfect creamy Christmas fantasy lying beneath him, her usually sweet face now etched with passion, her body a perfect holiday treat he couldn’t even have imagined she was hiding under those sweaters of hers.
He wasted no time lowering his mouth to taste her there—kissing, licking, then suckling first one hardened peak and then the other. She emitted shaky breaths above him that made him a little crazy, made him want to come.
Damn, he usually had more control than this. Though it had actually been a while for him, too. Not as long as for her, he suspected, but given his father’s death and the illness leading up to it, he hadn’t exactly been out on the prowl for that kind of fun in a while.
Even so, he didn’t honestly think his response was about that. He thought it was about her. She wasn’t his usual type. Santa’s nice list wasn’t generally where he went shopping for girls. And to have ended up with her like this—considering that she’d treated him like a criminal until recently—made him feel . . . what?
Powerful?
Special in some way?
He wasn’t sure what it was, but he just wanted to make Candy feel good.
And so he wasn’t about to come yet—much as he might want to just let go and let it happen. But that required pulling back, away from her.
She gasped slightly at the withdrawal, her eyes filling with alarm. “Wh-wh-why?”
Damn, she looked so sad. And he couldn’t have that. So he rushed to reassure her. “Don’t worry, honey—I’m not going anywhere.”
“But I want . . . I want . . .”
His grin probably bordered on wicked—because he knew what she wanted. Him back inside her. But he also knew she’d like what she got instead. So he just said, “Shhh . . .” and then bent to mold and kiss her sweet, round breasts some more—and then he descended, letting his mouth drop to her pale, trim stomach.
She gasped then, maybe not so much at the tummy kisses as because they hinted at what was coming. And he had to amend his thoughts once more—because no, that was the prettiest gasp he’d ever heard.
As he kissed his way downward, he let his eyes connect with hers, let her see the hunger inside him, what she did to him.
Then he used his hands to part her legs a little wider and kiss her where she was warm and wet for him.
“Oh!” she called out. And something about the response—strong and uncontrolled—urged him to make her climax hard and fast. Later they could take their time—he could tease her, bring her to the brink and back again—but right now, he just needed to take her there.
So he raked his tongue over the hot nub of flesh between her legs and listened to the sweet, jagged moan it wrenched from her pretty lips. He licked her there again, again, until she was digging her fingers into the couch cushions at either side of her, clearly maddened.
He didn’t stop, so ready to make her come that he could taste it—until her flesh shuddered around him and she was thrusting at his mouth, crying out, screaming her orgasm, filling him with the heat of satisfaction as it rocked her.
Her pretty sighs filled the air as he pulled back, sat up, giving her a moment to come down from that peak—and as he gazed down on her lovely nakedness, the lights on the tree reflecting shadows of blue, red, green, across her skin, he couldn’t resist one more naughty grin as he said, “Damn, Candy Cane—you make Christmas a lot more fun.”
She smiled up at him, her satisfaction visible in the twinkle of her eyes. “So do you,” she said. “Now come back inside me.”
His chest constricted as he told her, “My pleasure.” And he angled his body over hers once more, pushing his way back into that snug heat until they both let out hot sighs.
And as he began to move in her, he thought he could gladly stay like this with her for a very long time—but it was in that very moment that his drives into her sweet softness pushed him over the edge he’d already been hovering too near before. And he willingly let himself drop over it this time—let himself explode inside her hard, hard, hard, as she again cried out her pleasure.
And as he collapsed gently atop her, spent, she whispered, “Now this is what I call a merry Christmas.”
Hours later, Candice lay naked beneath the covers of her bed, curled in Shane Dalton’s muscular arms. She wasn’t sure how this had happened. She only knew that he smelled good, some combination of hot musky guy and cool peppermint, and that she’d forgotten how this felt. To be held this way. To have her skin pressed up against a man’s hard, lean body. To have her palm resting on a firm, bare male chest, her fingertips nestled in the dusting of dark hair drizzled so deliciously across it. Like sprinkles on a cupcake. A scrumptious man cupcake.
Lord, she’d clearly been hanging out with Rachel and the other girls too much if she was having thoughts like that.
Or maybe it was some natural result of the way she’d let herself be deprived for so long.
But you didn’t really have much of a choice. Shallow dating pool and all.
And even as much as her body was loving this, soaking up every touch and kiss like they were filled with water and she were a dry sponge, maybe for her heart, her mind, the deprivation had been wise in a way. Maybe, deep down, she’d known exactly what she was doing when she’d chosen not to let herself even begin going down that road for such a long while.
Because his body was so warm against hers beneath the sheets, their legs tangled so comfortably yet intimately. Because she never wanted to move, never wanted either of them to leave this bed. She wanted to hold on to this, wanted much, much more of this. She wanted to stay connected to him like this . . . forever.
Which was a crazy long time, and an even crazier thought. But what woman hadn’t felt this? And this . . . this was perhaps what she’d been unwittingly protecting herself from. That uncontrollable rush of emotion, chemistry gone wild and deep, and feeling dangerously like an attachment she wouldn’t be able to break free of.
But don’t think about that now. You took the risk, you decided it was worth it. You can hurt over this later, when he’s long gone, but for now, enjoy what you have with him. Make the most of it. Because it’s temporary. This is all you’ll ever have, as good as it gets, so make it count.
“Jesus,” Shane muttered then.
The morning sun creeping in her bedroom’s tall windows must have woken him. “What?” she whispered, worried—and at the same time, she lifted her head and followed his eyes to an old mantel across the room from the foot of the bed.
“Your cat’s staring at us.”
True enough, Frosty sat on the mantelpiece like another item of bric-a-brac, glaring a hole through them. “Sorry about that.” The truth was, she hadn’t seen Frosty since before they’d had sex last night and for the moment had practically forgotten she even had a cat.
“No problem,” Shane said. “Just a freaky thing to wake up to.”
She giggled lightly—then found herself playfully stroking little arcs back and forth on his chest with her fingertips. It surprised her to be this comfortable with him this way this fast—but maybe it was like riding a bike.
In response, he ran the tip of one index finger down her hand and up her arm, his other arm still wrapped tight and cozy around her. Then he met her gaze. “Any regrets, Candy?”
“Nope.” It was true. Even if she knew she’d struggle with his departure now; even if she knew she’d just made her emotions, her life—because what was life if not your emotions?—a lot more complicated.
“Good,” he said. Then arched one brow, his look one that only a guy who was pure trouble could deliver. “Wanna do it again?”
She bit her lip as fresh desire flared between her thighs and said, “Oh yeah.”
Fifteen
“He’s making violent love to me.”
Mary Hatch, It’s a Wonderful Life
Hands on her hips, Shane pushed his way inside her. And mmm, yeah, wait—no, that was the prettiest gasp he’d ev
er heard.
Part of him couldn’t believe they’d ended up like this, him and Little Miss Candy Cane. Turned out she had a hot, naughty side, too—one he hadn’t anticipated. And that made him all the more into her.
And she was . . . honest. She didn’t hold back, attempt to hide or mask things. She didn’t try to act like she had everything completely under control. He hadn’t met many people like that and he wasn’t sure what to make of it—but maybe he liked that about her, too. Maybe he thought anyone willing to be that real all the time possibly . . . did actually have things under control.
But it was a whole different kind of control he thought about as he moved in her, thrusting firm and deep, watching pleasure and passion etch themselves onto her face. Right now, he wanted to control her every response and fulfill her every desire. She wasn’t very experienced—he could tell. But he didn’t mind. Because she mostly let him take control, let him lead, guide, show, give.
Gripping her ass tight, he said, “Put your arms around my neck,” then rolled to his back until she was on top. She let out a breath at the different way that obviously felt to her—and he liked that, too. Then gave her one more instruction. “Now ride me, honey.”
And she did. Taking back just a little of that control, and looking so damn beautiful doing it. As she sat upright astride him, he lifted his hands to cup the softness of her breasts, molding and massaging in rhythm with her movements. He tweaked their hard, puckered tips, noting their rosy color in the morning light. He still didn’t know why his father had sent him to Destiny and had long since given up trying to figure it out, but at the moment, he was damn glad fate or God or whoever else had brought him here.