A Madrona Island Christmas

by Jami Davenport

  Chapter 5—Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

  The meowing of the kitten penetrated Blake’s haze.

  Sarah stiffened in his arms and pushed against his chest, and he released her with great reluctance. She gazed up at him, her face flushed and her eyes shining. “I’d better check on the little guy.”

  Together they walked to the kitten. Blake watched as Sarah gently checked the little cat’s vitals, gave it food and water, and tucked it back in its bed. Purring up a storm and with a full belly, the kitten closed its eyes and fell back asleep.

  “I’d better be going.” Sarah took a few steps back, as if trying to put some separation and sanity between them. But Blake didn’t want sanity. He wanted to go back to the place they’d visited a few minutes ago, a place without gut-wrenching grief, a place he felt at home.

  “It’s almost a whiteout.”

  “I know. That’s why I need to leave before it gets worse.” She walked across the room to grab her coat. It was slung over a chair. Cyrus sat up and watched them from his spot in front of the fireplace.

  Blake dogged Sarah’s heels, feeling like a lonely puppy himself. “I don’t think it can get much worse. How far do you have to go?”

  “The opposite end of the island.”

  “You can’t drive. With all this snow, it’s too dangerous, and you’ve been drinking.”

  Her coat clutched in her hand, she seemed to consider. “I don’t know. I—”

  “You told me you don’t have anywhere you need to be tonight. How about a rum cake encore?” He was begging, but he didn’t give a shit. He’d never begged a woman to stay before, but he was begging her. Hell, any second he’d drop to his knees. He was so pathetic. “Look, your dog doesn’t even want you to go.” He pointed to Cyrus, who’d laid back down in front of the fire.

  Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. If she stayed, they’d end up in bed. He knew that. So did she. There was nothing he wanted more than to cuddle up under a pile of blankets and the down comforter in the big bed in the master bedroom with her next to him, though, watching the snow fall outside and listening to the fire crackle inside.

  He grabbed her hand, held it tightly. “Stay with me tonight.”

  She chewed on her lower lip, glanced out the window then back at him, clearly waffling between staying and leaving. Shameless man that he was, he cranked up the pressure.

  “Please. It’s Christmas Eve. Not the night to be alone.”

  “We’re strangers,” she said.

  That argument didn’t carry any weight with him, no more than he suspected it did with her. “Do you really feel that way? I don’t. It’s as if I’ve always known you, Sarah Whitney.”

  She smiled and rolled her eyes, squeezing his arm. “If that’s the line you use on all the girls, you’d better get a new writer.”

  “It’s not a pickup line. You know that.” And so did he. He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms—where she belonged, and not just for tonight.

  She didn’t resist. In fact, her deep sigh revealed the contrary. She wanted this as much as he did. He slanted his mouth down on hers. The gentle, persuasive kiss ignited like a puddle of gasoline and a spark, and soon Sarah’s mouth opened to his demands and he lost himself in the taste and feel of her. His world spun around him as he molded her body to his, and the heady sensation of hope filled him for the first time in four years.

  She clung to him, giving back as good as he gave, her mouth as desperate as his. Her fingers dug into the back of his head, pressing him closer. He backed her against the kitchen counter and slipped his hands under her shirt. She made no move to stop him. A throaty moan was encouragement.

  Blake closed his eyes and savored the feel of her silky skin. He ran the rough pads of his calloused fingers up her rib cage and slid them over the rounded mounds of her breasts, and her nipples hardened under her bra as he stroked them. She shuddered with pleasure. He groaned, totally adrift in the scent and feel of her, a strange combination of cinnamon and antiseptic, so uniquely this woman that he’d never look at a can of first-aid spray the same way. Who’d have thought antiseptic could be a turn-on?

  Lifting her, he carried her upstairs to the loft bedroom with its huge four-poster bed and rock fireplace opposite the wall of windows. He didn’t bother with a light, but the Christmas lights from the living room below twinkled merrily across the room while the holiday music floated up as well.

  For a moment after he set her down, he stared at her with sensations so strong that their intensity almost brought him to his knees. She lay on his bed, staring up at him. Her face was flushed with the heat of passion, her lips swollen from his rough kisses. A small smile crossed those lips.

  She held out her arms. “Come to me.”

  He laughed. “I’d be glad to.” Coming happened to be exactly what he had in mind.

  * * * * *

  Sarah held her breath as Blake pulled his sweater over his head. A tattoo of a hockey player featured his navel as a puck. His rock hard abs gave way to an impressive chest and broad shoulders, and on his right forearm was a Stanley Cup tattoo with the year. Another tattoo on his left forearm featured a broken heart and several names, obviously a tribute to his family, and the sight just about broke Sarah’s own heart.

  She held out her arms again, and he moved into them. The mattress sank under the weight of his body as lay next to her. Sarah hooked her leg over his hips and moved against him. His mouth came down on hers as he held her tight. Their breath came in short gasps as they kissed each other with equal fervor.

  His erection pressed against her thigh, hot and hard. She so wanted him inside her, deep inside, stroking all those secret places she instinctually knew he’d be able to find. And find them he soon did, stroking and licking his way along her body, undressing her as he went. Before she knew it, she was spread out before him, open and vulnerable, squirming for all she was worth and aching for more. Her body burned where he’d kissed and licked, which was just about every nook and crevice.

  She whimpered when his heavy body moved away and left her cold and wanting. Turning her head, she saw him standing next to the bed shucking off his jeans and underwear. Oh, Lord, he was magnificent from his feet to his muscular calves and thighs to the most impressive thing of all. In fact, that was impossibly impressive. It stood tall, erect and was wishing her a very merry Christmas.

  She reached out and touched the velvety tip. Blake sucked in his stomach. His eyes dilated until the blue-gray almost disappeared.

  He opened the nightstand and rummaged around for a condom. Pulling one out, he ripped open the package and rolled it onto his cock. Sarah was torn between being glad he had a supply of protection in this house and being disappointed that she obviously wasn’t the only woman he’d brought here. That disappointment faded when he lowered himself back onto the bed and knelt between her splayed legs.

  Oh, boy. Oh, oh, boy.

  Supporting his upper body with his arms, he slowly slid himself inside her. He was larger than she was used to—not that she was used to much of anything anymore—but he took it slow and gentle, giving her body time to adjust. Adjust she did, welcoming him inside as he buried himself inch by glorious inch.

  Meanwhile, his blue-gray eyes enslaved her with fantasies turned to reality. How such a large powerful man could be so gentle she couldn’t fathom, but he was, even though she knew it took a toll on him. The strain of holding back etched deep lines on his face, and he bit his lower lip in concentration then ducked his head to capture her mouth as he took complete possession of her body. She was his from every hair on her head to all ten toenails.

  With torturously slow strokes he moved inside her. Sarah wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her heels into his fine butt, and arching her back she raised her hips to meet his thrusts. His eyes met hers, and she slipped into the most wondrous, incredible place, a private place just for them. Despite only knowing him a few hours, she’d known him for lifetimes, and she’d waited
all her life for this. For him.

  Such romantic notions rarely entered her private thoughts, yet they swirled everywhere in her brain now. A whirlpool of feelings wrapped around them both and pulled them downward, deeper and deeper, until that warmth entirely enveloped them.

  A few more thrusts and they both balanced precariously on the edge of something new and frightening. Staring deep into his eyes, Sarah saw her answer. She dug her proverbial toes into the edge of the precipice, pushed off, and sailed with him into the unknown.

  Chapter 6—All I Want for Christmas

  Blake couldn’t move, not even a toe. He’d been paralyzed, his body melted down to bare emotions, his brain unable to form any coherent words. Sarah lay next to him, eyes closed, breathing steady. The blinking of the Christmas lights below reflected off her smooth skin. God, but she was beautiful. He’d never formed an instant connection to any woman until her. Now, in just a few hours, she’d become as crucial to him as breathing. If Blake had been prone to drug use, he suspected making love to Sarah would beat any artificial high known to man. In fact, it rivaled winning the Stanley Cup—which was both pretty damn amazing and shitfaced-scary at the same time.

  Something warm and fuzzy tickled his nose while a buzz saw sounded in his ear. Turning his head, he came face to face with the kitten sound asleep on the pillow next to him. The little thing must be feeling a lot better to have made it upstairs without help.

  Sarah blinked a few times then opened her eyes. An easy smile crossed her face.

  “Merry Christmas,” Blake said.

  “Merry Christmas to you. What time is it?” She glanced around as if looking for a clock.

  “Two in the morning.”

  “Oh.” She sat up and stared outside. “It’s still snowing.”

  “We’ll be snowed in until spring. Not such a bad thought, if you ask me. Not if we keep doing what we did.” He grinned and nodded to the bundle of fur on the pillow. “Of course, the kitten joined us.”

  Sarah reached for the cat and cradled the little guy in her arms. “He’s doing great,” she said. “I should take him back downstairs and feed him a little more.”

  “Then come right back up,” he told her. “I’m not ready for this night to end.”

  She nodded and hurried downstairs with the kitten, and he heard her talking to Cyrus briefly, but she returned a few minutes later. Standing next to the bed, she stared at him. “Blake, I—”

  Aw, hell, not regrets. No way. He didn’t have one regret about their night together. “Please don’t say it. I’d do this over again and again given the chance.”

  She looked surprised. “Did you think I was going to say I was sorry for what happened?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Not me. I’m…I’m a little humbled by our time together.”

  Blake couldn’t have said it better. “You and me both. So, how about we do some more humbling?”

  “Let’s do,” she said.

  He rolled her onto her back and rained kisses across her neck, and when Blake’s mouth came down on hers, he forgot his name, his past, and everything that had ever made him sad. He forgot everything but the joy that Christmas and a small gray kitten had brought him.

  * * * * *

  Sarah woke to the morning sun in her eyes as it streamed in the windows. The snow outside only intensified the brightness. It was blinding.

  She felt the sheets for Blake. His side of the bed was still warm, but a few seconds later her nostrils were filled with tantalizing smell of bacon and eggs wafting up from the kitchen below. Sarah smiled to herself, threw on one of Blake’s overlarge t-shirts and padded downstairs. She hadn’t realized how much was missing in her life until she’d spent these few short hours with him. She needed to know where he was coming from, needed a few questions answered—but all in due time. It was Christmas Day.

  “Good morning.” He grinned at her as he flipped the eggs in the frying pan. “Hungry?”

  “Starving. I worked up quite an appetite last night.”

  “So did I, and I’m ready to do it again.”

  The kitten lay nearby, on the back of an overstuffed chair with a good view of the kitchen and some birds perched on the deck railing. Sarah dished up some soft food for him, and the cat jumped down to make short work of his chow. She watched him for a few minutes, glad to see him feeling so well. He stared up at her, licked his chops, and curled up in his box for a nap.

  Sarah turned back to Blake, pleased. “He’s doing really well. Much better than expected, considering he was on death’s door yesterday.”

  “You’re a great doctor,” Blake said.

  “You’re a pretty good nurse.”

  He laughed. “Hey, I aim to please.”

  Soon Blake dished up a hearty helping of breakfast for both of them and laid the plates on the table. He threw a couple scraps of bacon to Cyrus, too. Sarah smiled at the way he did it. Then, sitting down, she dug right in, surprised at how famished she was. They ate in comfortable silence, as if they ate together every morning. It really felt right.

  At last, Blake lay down his fork and wadded up his napkin. He cleared his throat, and Sarah’s heart dipped into her toes. She was suddenly nervous, waiting for him to issue the death sentence to their less-than-a-day-old relationship, despite his earlier words. Guys did that, right? They got claustrophobic and resisted commitments, especially men dealing with a loss like Blake’s. Last night had been too easy, too wonderful. Too magical.

  What he said next surprised her: “I don’t normally do this.”

  “Do what? Bring women here?”

  “Yeah. I want you to know that this is…is special to me.”

  She couldn’t help herself; skepticism crept into her voice. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that he felt as she did, but it all seemed so impossibly perfect. Why should true love fall out of the sky and find them? Why would one wonderful night mean a lifetime of happiness and joy? She’d be silly to assume that all her dreams were reality.

  “What about the condoms? They sorta indicate you’ve had women here.”

  “What? Oh, those. No, not at all. You worried I’m a player?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “You are a professional athlete.”

  He looked hurt, but the expression soon turned to one of confidence. “What does your gut say?”

  Her gut said no. Still, she didn’t know if she could trust it. For the first time…well, ever, lust had ruled it and not reason. She shrugged.

  “The condoms were a joke from one of my brothers a bunch of Christmases ago, right after the Stanley Cup. He said I’d need them to take care of all the groupies. I just shoved them in nightstand drawer and forgot about them.”

  “So we’re using condoms that’ve been around a while?”

  He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Uh, yeah. Stupid, I guess. But they didn’t break.”

  Sarah carried her plate to the sink, rinsed it off, and put it in the dishwasher. When she turned around, she bumped into Blake’s chest. He put his arms around her, and she did likewise, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Oddly enough, it was. His quiet strength and manly beauty called to her. She’d never been so happy.

  Laying her head against his broad shoulder, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to just exist for a short while. Blake’s steady breathing relaxed her. The scent of him slipped past all defenses he hadn’t already obliterated, and she wanted to stay like this forever. But, they didn’t have forever, did they? She’d been dreaming, and it was time to come back to reality. He was a professional hockey player, or soon would be again, and she was a vet on a remote island that he visited on the holidays. And the holidays were soon going to be over.

  She finally tilted her head back. When she did, Blake smiled a crooked smile that would have melted the hardest heart.

  “Come sit with me,” he said.

  She followed him to the couch in front of the blazing fire he’d rebuilt and sat next to hi
m, making Cyrus move when he got in their way. Holding hands, they stared at the flames together and shared a few tentative kisses. She dared not hope at the promise held by those kisses, yet hope she did, because if he walked out her life tomorrow, her heart would surely break. How was it possible she’d been both strengthened and weakened by one night of bliss? Blake Daniels had made his way inside her heart as completely as if they’d spent years together. She could almost bring herself to believe in Christmas miracles. Almost.

  Blake turned, took both of her hands in his and looked deep into her eyes. “Thank you,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “Giving me back Christmas. For the past four years, Christmas has been nothing but bad memories. You’ve helped me heal. For that I’m grateful.”

  “Well, I could say the same to you,” she admitted. “I’ll always remember this Christmas.” If only there could be many more.

  “Our first Christmas together.”

  Blake spoke softly, almost reverently, and Sarah didn’t want to ask him what he meant, afraid to break the spell. Instead, she just smiled and squeezed his hands. “Have you given any thought to your future? Will you try to get on another team?”

  “That was my intention when I came here, but there’s another dream I’ve always had.”

  Sarah’s heart pounded. “And what would that be?”

  “I’ve always wanted to open a little bistro, just a half-dozen tables, to serve some great food for dinner a few nights a week. Good food for good prices.”

  “Where would that bistro be opened?” Sarah asked.

  “I’m thinking these islands might be the perfect place. I can work as little or as much as I want in the tourist off-season. So…what do you think about me living here full-time?”

  “I’m think it’s a great idea.” And truly she did.

  He stared at their hands twined together and seemed to be struggling with something. Finally, he looked up, his eyes bright. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

  Her heart skipped a beat, and she was again pressed to fight back the hope that threatened to drown her. “Is this a line?”