Hot Christmas Nights

by Rachel Bailey

  “I don’t want anything to do with you. I don’t want to be a mother anymore, that’s why I left.” She sighed and a whiff of stale smoke filled the air. “It’s too much responsibility and I never wanted to have kids. Your father bullied me into it.”

  Ash dropped to the floor as her mother tapped on the cigarette. For a moment, all Neve could do was stare at the little pile of gray—the one tiny, unimportant, discarded thing. The world tilted beneath her feet.

  “Go,” her mother said. “No one here knows about you and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Turns out she doesn’t regret it,” Neve said, trying to hold her voice steady. “I’m not sure what I thought would happen. She didn’t welcome me with open arms. Clearly I’ve watched too much Oprah.”

  Part of her was ashamed that she was so unlovable that even her own mother couldn’t stand the sight of her. But another part of her was angry.

  So very, very angry.

  “That really sucks.”

  “I wasn’t ready to go home and tell the rest of the family what happened…especially since they don’t know the real reason I left last year.”

  “Why are you worried about telling them?”

  “Because then I’ll have to tell my brother that our mother doesn’t want us.” That was one conversation she wasn’t looking forward to. Nate already refused to talk about their mother, he hated the very mention of her. “And he’s always said we’re better off not knowing where she went or what she’s doing. But I can’t lie to him. I’ve kept too much from them this past year and I need to come clean.”

  “So by coming here you’re putting off the inevitable?”

  “Pretty much.” Like a goddamn coward.

  “Your brother will understand.”

  “You think so?”

  Without warning, Damian closed the space between them and wrapped his arms around her. The surprising show of compassion had her body firing off mixed signals—she wasn’t sure she deserved to be comforted, but at the same time she couldn’t deny how good it felt to be in his arms. To be wrapped up in his strength.

  “Being that I’m expertly qualified to answer that question as a brother…” His warm breath brushed over her skin. “Yes.”

  She relaxed into him, totally aware of the heat charging the air around them. Of the hard curves of his muscled arms around her shoulders, of the sturdiness of his chest against her cheek. Of the flame of desire that burned more intensely inside her.

  She turned her head to look at him, to read him. His face was incredibly close to hers, the combination of soap and something warmly masculine curled around her. Tempting her. Opening her.

  He brushed a hand over her hair, sweeping it back from her face and tracing her temple with his thumb. Blood rushed in her ears, drowning out the sound of rain outside and the soothing breath of Tilly slumbering on the couch. For a moment the world shrank to them and only them.

  Her lips parted because she felt the need to say something—anything—but his mouth dropped down to hers, silencing her. His tongue drew a gentle line over her lower lip, a prelude to what she desperately wanted.

  The taste of cinnamon and syrup danced on her lips as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. His hands tightened in her hair and the intensity of him seeped into her. When she kissed him back it was with all the emotion she had pent up inside her, all the fear and loathing and regret and desperation.

  “Damian,” she gasped into his mouth as her hands smoothed up his t-shirt. The hard ridges of his abs made her fingertips burn, even with the layer of cotton between them. She wanted to count every one, to confirm that he was real and she hadn’t spun out into some crazy parallel world.

  “You taste so good,” he murmured against her lips. “So sweet.”

  His hands dropped down to her back, sliding over the curve of her butt until his hands found purchase there. Fingers kneading her, he pressed her closer. Lined her up against the hard ridge of his erection. Wanton need spread through her as she rubbed against him, her hips circling against his.

  “God, Neve. I want you,” he ground the words out.

  Warning bells sounded in her brain and they were almost drowned by the thick, honeyed arousal sweeping through her. Almost. She had to think, to know if they took this further it wouldn’t be something she’d regret later.

  Like the drunken fumble at a Paris club the night her mother had kicked her to the curb. She’d been hell bent on destruction, slamming back shots like they were nothing more than thimbles of water. The guy who’d bought her drinks had stunk like gin and cigarettes, his eager hands worming their way under her clothes before she realized what was going on. Then he’d sworn at her in French when she’d pushed him away.

  “I, uh…” Neve blinked, trying to right herself as the world swam beneath her feet. She pressed her palms against his chest to create space between them. “I…”

  “I didn’t think you had it in you to be speechless,” he said, a smile playing over his lips.

  “Maybe you’re a terrible kisser and I didn’t know how to tell you.” She hoped that her cheeks didn’t look as hot as they felt.

  “Nice try, but I’m not buying it.” His eyes coasted up and down her body as his hands had done a moment ago.

  She wasn’t the kind of girl to drop her panties for any good-looking guy that came along—not that there was anything wrong with casual sex, but it wasn’t her style. There had to be a deeper connection, something more than the physical.

  However, being caught in Damian’s hungry gaze made her whole body flush with anticipation.

  Neve rubbed her hands along her thighs as if trying to remove the feeling of him from her skin. There wasn’t much space between them, it would be so easy to step back into his arms. To step into his kiss.

  God, how she wanted to.

  “Why don’t you let me finish the tree,” she said, drawing a line between them with her words. “Consider it my Christmas present to you.”

  Because as tempting as he was, she knew where it would lead. Tomorrow morning when reality broke he’d send her away. Reject her, just like her mother did. And she wasn’t sure she could face that again so soon.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A few hours later the storm had subsided but the rain still pounded down, soaking the yard and gathering in deep puddles. Damian stood on the back deck, shielded by the roof overhead. Chilled air brushed over him and brought with it a slight mist from the rain.

  He needed to cool off. Desperately.

  Kissing Neve was a stupid idea considering he’d been doing everything in his power to kick her out yesterday. But hearing her talk about her birth mother had struck him. He understood what it meant to ache for a relationship that you could never have.

  But damn she’d felt good in his arms. All soft and warm and comforting, stirring him in all the places he’d been too stressed to even consider for months. She had a fire about her, a deep empathy that she tried to hide under quips and snark. He’d seen it when she talked about her mother, bubbling under the surface. He’d felt it in the way she’d clutched at him when they kissed.

  If she hadn’t pulled away, what the hell would he have done next? Well, he knew what he’d wanted to do…what he still wanted to do. Would it be so bad to take her to bed? They could burn off some of their tension, indulge in the physical instead of being caught up in their respective issues.

  A soft knock interrupted his thoughts and the door behind him slid open. “I thought you might like to know I finished the tree.” Neve peered out at him, her cheeks flushed pink and a tentative smile on her lips.

  He nodded, his smile felt tight and unnatural. It had been a long time since he’d felt so brittle, so unsure. “Let’s have a look.”

  Without power, the rainbow lights—the ones he and Annabel had picked out as kids—sat dull against the branches. But he could see the care that Neve had taken in decorating the tree. The gesture touched him.

  “I just need help with the top.
” She held up the gold star. “I can’t reach and those dining chairs look rickety as hell.”

  A flash of pink caught his attention as she ran her tongue along her lower lip, causing all the blood in his body to rush south.

  “How short are you? Four feet?” He joked as he plucked the star out of her hands, denying how much he wanted to sweep her up in his arms and kiss until they both forgot their troubles.

  “I’m five two thank you very much.” She planted a hand on her hip. “How tall are you? A billion feet?”

  “Nah, only a million. Let’s not go crazy.”

  She shook her head and tried to hide a smile as he put the star on top of the tree with ease. Memories started unfurling in his brain, all the Christmases his family had spent in this very house—away from the hustle and bustle of the city. All the silly games they’d played, the loving way his parents had looked at one another.

  All he’d lost.

  “The tree looks great.” He touched a clear bauble that was filled with glitter and a photo of the family. Four big smiles, ugly velvet Santa hats. His dad gesturing with a set of BBQ tongs. “Annabel used to oversee the decorating of the tree and if she didn’t like where you’d put an ornament she’d make you move it.”

  “I knew there was a reason I liked her,” Neve said. “You should call her. I’m sure she’d like to hear from you.”

  Would she? He was ashamed at the things he’d said to her the last time they’d talked. “How do you know she won’t be too pissed to take my call?”

  “Trust me, she really misses you.” For once there wasn’t anything but sincerity in her tone. She wasn’t teasing, wasn’t joking.

  And the truth was, he missed his big sister. She was the last link to his family and, instead of cherishing that, he’d picked fights with her. Buried them both in his grief. All she wanted was for them to both move on and he’d thrown it back in her face.

  She should have been the first person he’d called after his case went south. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to pick up the phone.

  “Why don’t we make a pact?” he proposed, making a silent commitment to himself to do anything he could to patch things up with his sister. “I’ll call Annabel tomorrow morning and you call your family. We’ll keep each other honest.”

  That earned him a wary look. “I thought we were talking about you.”

  “I’m trying to make sure you take your own advice.”

  “Fine.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “You don’t think they’ll have the roads clear enough for me to leave by tonight?”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  He wasn’t totally sure about that but it was an educated guess. Besides, he didn’t want her driving unless the roads were safe. The rental car wasn’t much more than a tin can masquerading as a vehicle, and he’d be damned if he sent her out and anything happened. He didn’t need that guilt.

  Yeah, keep telling yourself it’s because you’re a Good Samaritan and not because she’s gotten under your skin.

  “So I guess it’s safe to open this?” She held out a bottle of vodka. “Annabel said I could drink anything I liked while I was here so long as I left her expensive wine alone.”

  He laughed. “That sounds like Annabel.”

  “Any idea what else we can do? I like to keep my hands busy.”

  He was sure she’d said it innocently enough, but his mind whirred with possibilities. “How about we get drunk and play cards?”

  “I like the way you think.”

  He opened the fridge and pulled out the bottle of Coke while Neve grabbed two glasses from the cupboard. Then they carried their spoils to the table and Damian grabbed a bag of marshmallows for good measure. It wasn’t exactly the most festive meal but sugar and alcohol seemed like an excellent way to kill reality, at least until he was on his own again.

  “I feel like we’re doing the equivalent of what a teenager dreams adulthood is like.” She free poured the vodka into the glasses and topped them both with Coke.

  “This is what I hoped it would be. Drinking and playing games, eating whatever I want.” He laughed. “Sure beats the hell out of being responsible doesn’t it?”

  Neve watched as Damian shuffled the deck, his fingers deft and capable as he handled the cards like a professional dealer. She shouldn’t have been surprised. The way those hands had threaded into her hair and kneaded her ass earlier had made her think they could do anything.

  A shiver ran down the length of her spine. She hadn’t been kissed like that in a while…a long while. And it made her wonder why. She’d met a lot of people this past year, gone to a lot of parties and no one had aroused even the faintest flicker of excitement. But Damian…he got her blood pumping and her heart fluttering like nothing else.

  He took a sip of his drink and choked. “Jesus, were you attempting to make a drink or rocket fuel? You’re a heavy pour.”

  “Picked that up bartending in the U.K. They love a good, strong drink.” She grinned and took a sip from her own glass, trying to hold back a cough. “Okay, so it’s a little on the strong side.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. Oh well, you said you wanted to get drunk.”

  “Damn straight.” She held her glass up. “To drowning our sorrows.”

  “And having the strangest Christmas ever.”

  His gaze held hers as they clinked glasses and she almost melted into a puddle. Heavy lashes framed his eyes, so thick and lush and sexy. They were dark, like the hair that dusted his strong forearms, like the heavy brows above his eyes and the rich golden tan of his olive skin.

  And he kissed like a man—no hesitation, no uncertainty. It seemed impossible to her that he was the same standoffish guy she’d met only yesterday.

  But he hadn’t changed, had he? He’d simply let down his guard and so had she.

  “What are we playing?” He split the deck in two and flicked the cards together. “Gin Rummy? Five Hundred? Fifty-two pickup?” A chuckle rumbled in his throat.

  “Don’t you dare throw those cards on the ground.” She tapped a finger to her chin. “How about Gin Rummy? I’m a little rusty though so you might have to brush me up.”

  Dealing the cards, he explained the rules in a way that was easy to understand without being condescending. A guy who could kiss like a champ, make French toast and didn’t mansplain things? It was unbelievable he hadn’t been snapped up already.

  She collected her pile of cards and started sorting them into sets and runs. “So tell me, Damian. How is it that you’re single?”

  “You’ve got all the hard-hitting questions, don’t you?” His tone revealed nothing. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I’m curious. You’ve got a good job, you seem decent enough and you’re good looking.” Her cheeks flushed a little at her admission, but it was true and guys who looked the way he did would know it too. She wasn’t exactly spilling a secret.

  “Anything else?”

  “You’re an all right kisser.”

  “All right?” He threw his cards face-down in mock outrage. “Do I need to kiss you again to jog your memory?”

  His tone said he was joking but the glint in his eyes challenged her. Dared her to prove him wrong.

  “Don’t think you can avoid answering the question.” She plucked a card from the top of the deck.

  “I don’t have time for a relationship. I work over seventy hours a week and the last thing I need is the stress of other people’s problems when I come home.”

  “Tell me how you really feel,” she joked.

  “Having a relationship isn’t the end goal for everyone. Besides, I’m assuming you don’t have a boyfriend considering you’re shacked up with me right now.”

  “Against my will,” she quipped, although nothing about their current situation felt unpleasant. “And no, I am totally single right now.”

  Or should that be I’m totally single full stop? Because ‘right now’ would imply you’d been in a different situation at some po
int.

  “And loving it?” Damian swept his gaze over her, making her tingle with a kind of slow-burn anticipation of things to come.

  “It’s fine, I’m not complaining. If I found the right guy, then I’d be up for it, but that hasn’t happened yet.”

  “And you haven’t exactly gone looking for it?”

  “I’ve had other things on my mind.” She plucked another card from the deck and switched it with her ace of hearts.

  He snatched up the ace with a triumphant grin and laid his whole hand out at once. Three aces and a four card straight, diamonds. Bastard.

  “Your turn to shuffle and take a drink.” He pushed her glass towards her with a cheeky, lopsided grin.

  “Oh so this is a drinking game now?” She took a long gulp and let the relaxing effects wash over her.

  “It is now that I’m winning.”

  Okay, make that cocky bastard.

  She shuffled the cards and dealt the new hand. “One round does not make you a winner but thanks for showing me your weakness.”

  “My weakness?” He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. “What’s that?”

  “That you’re shortsighted.” She placed the deck face down and flipped the top card over. “You’ve got no long game.”

  “Oh, I know how to play the long game. Don’t you worry about that.”

  Something furry brushed against Neve’s foot and she looked down to see Tilly taking her place under the table, her head laying down on her paws. Neve bent to give the dog a scratch behind the ears.

  “I knew she’d grow on you,” Damian said, taking a swig of his drink. “It was a rough first introduction, that’s all.”

  “To be fair we didn’t have the best introduction either.”

  He picked up a card and tossed it out a moment later. “Is that your way of saying I’ve grown on you?”

  “Well, you’re not as much of a cranky-pants as you were yesterday.”

  He chuckled and the sound ran down her spine like a caress.

  Heat spread through her, pooling low in her belly. Would she be acting like this if he hadn’t kissed her? If she didn’t know how good he could make her feel?