Desire became her guide and need the shining beacon she moved toward through the haze of heady awareness that threatened to drown her. Everywhere he touched warmed then ignited in flames until the fire tormented her most secret of places. She craved his touch between her legs and that need made her bold enough to grab his hand and press it to her mound. She sought something she couldn't understand but knew only he could provide.
"Blake, touch me. Make me feel alive."
"Gladly." He stroked his fingers through her curls. "Do not tense, love. You will like this."
Bethany had no sooner relaxed against the mattress when he teased her sex with a finger. She nearly scrambled over his body from the tumble of powerful sensations that radiated through her core. He kissed her until she settled then began teasing with tiny strokes. As she fought against the tide within, he increased the pressure once more, falling into a rhythm, hard and fast then gentle and slow.
The fire inside her body raged, consumed her, called out to him for relief, and she felt hot and wet where his hand played. The torment was too much. "Blake." Shudders shook her body. "Please." She would die if he didn't end it.
"Soon, I promise." And he began the torture all over again.
Chapter Ten
Blake felt the tremors pass over her body, grinned when her inner muscles spasmed around the finger he plunged into her channel and then lost his heart once more when she uttered a tiny mew of pleasure and pressed ever closer.
She was ready.
Spreading her legs wider with a knee, he settled himself in between and positioned his tip at her entrance. When he met her gaze, the candlelight reflected in her wide eyes and illuminated the love in her expression. His heart lurched and he knew she was his.
For the rest of his life he would worship at her feet in thankfulness that she'd trusted him enough to give him such a gift and that she'd loved him without reservation.
"Blake!" A whine much like John's accompanied the word. "Why do you wait?"
His Bethany would always be a handful and he couldn't wait to start delving into the remainder of her personality.
"I will try to make it as painless as possible." In one fluid movement, he slid into her warmth, reveling in the slick feel of her as she closed around him. It did nothing to relieve the violent ache inside that wanted to pummel in and bury himself. He withdrew, readjusted then thrust into her core again with enough force to break through her maidenhead.
When he heard her sharp inhalation, he paused and hated himself in the next breath as tears swam in her eyes. "I am sorry to cause you discomfort." He attempted to pull away, but Bethany wrapped her arms about him and dug her nails into the tender flesh of his backside.
"It is not exactly pain." She wriggled beneath him, taking him deeper into her body. "It is … different, but nice."
He was too far gone for conversation. As quickly as he pulled out, his next thrust rejoined them. After a few clumsy attempts on her part to receive him, she lifted her hips and seemed confident. Soon they settled into a comfortable rhythm, one that was as familiar to him as if they'd been practicing the dance their whole life.
Sweat broke out on his upper lip as he pumped. Her sounds of enjoyment spurred him onward. He lifted her legs, encouraged her to wrap them around his waist to give him greater access. Pressure built until he sought the release only she could grant. "Bethany."
He felt her surrender to him in that moment. She cried out with an expression of surprise and wonder. Her eyes drifted closed and her inner muscles contracted around him, pulling at his shaft, milking it. He gave into the orgasm with relief and a sense of homecoming as his seed pulsed deep into her womb.
"My dearest." He collapsed at her side, wrapping her tight into an embrace. Finally, she was his and he would do everything in his power to keep her happy. He wanted to reassure her, to ascertain she was unharmed from their coupling, but the urge to sleep was too great and he sank gratefully into the dark oblivion.
When he awoke a few hours later, the candles were snuffed, no smoke lingered in the air and quiet darkness colored the room with bluish-black shadows. As always, Bethany was the first thing on his mind. The chance to talk with her in the early morning hours excited him. He rolled over and reached out but encountered nothing except cold sheets and an empty bed.
Desperation hit his stomach like a ship's anchor. She was gone. After what they'd shared, she decided to flee in the middle of the night anyway? Hell and damnation! What of her pretty words and tear-filled declarations? Had she merely said those things, knowing all along she'd leave regardless?
Struggling into a sitting position, he shoved the fingers of one hand through his hair, uncertain how to handle the rejection and subsequent desertion of his dreams, when a faint sound at the window caught his attention.
"Bethany?" She hadn't left!
With his heart lodged in his throat, Blake threw back the bedclothes and swung his legs over the side, watching her. She gazed out the window. Her fingers clutched a shawl around her shoulders, but her legs were bare, exposed and the fringe from the shawl barely brushed at the tops of her thighs.
Such a teasing, tempting sight.
"Darling, come back to bed where it is warm." His use of the endearment caused his heart to tumble. "Please."
She turned to him with a smile curving her lips. Tears shimmered in her eyes while her long hair cascaded around her shoulder in a wealth of blonde tangles. "Blake, I need to talk to you."
"Wait. Let me plead my case first." His arousal twitched to life and he quickly pulled the bedclothes over his lap. His stomach clenched with fear. "If you are unhappy with the results of our coupling, I can do much better. The first time is generally not the best." His mouth went dry when she closed the distance and wriggled to stand between his legs. She slid her arms around his neck. "Let me take care of you and the children. I have a stable job and I promise to be the best father that I know how to them."
"Blake?"
He nodded, not daring to speak for fear of what she would do. The shawl gaped open but he took no comfort in the charms her partially hidden breasts provided. Insanity threatened as silence seconds went by. He couldn't let her go. Not now. Not ever. "Bethany, marry me. I want you to stay here, but it would break my heart to hear the neighbors' gossip about our unconventional relationship. I am already strange enough."
One of her eyebrows lifted. "Are you quite finished?"
Apparently, he was, for he couldn't find anything else to say. "Yes." He reached out and stroked his fingers up and down her ribcage. As much as he wanted to bed her again, he couldn't think past her answer.
"While you slept, I had the opportunity to reflect over our time together." She traced the point of one ear with her fingertip. "With you, I finally feel at peace. You are wonderful with John and Sarah; however, I cannot make any decision regarding our future without talking to them first. I only have one question."
The knot in his stomach tightened, alleviated slightly by her touch. "Yes?"
"Does your offer of marriage stem from affection, or concern for your image in the community?" Her fingers drifted from his ears down along his jaw to rub against the stubble. "I refuse to be protected by your pity. That would be a long lifetime indeed."
"Dearest." He tugged her into his arms. The shawl fell to the floor and the warmth from her body seeped into his. "I love you. With everything that I am, I adore you and intend to spend the rest of my life showing you exactly how much if you will let me." He pressed a kiss first to one breast then the other.
She was perfect for him in every way. If she rejected his offer, he would spend the remainder of his time on earth alone.
"I feel so fortunate to have found you, Blake. I love you, but I cannot make that commitment without the children's approval. It would not be fair to them." When she met his gaze, her eyes were sad. "I hope you understand."
"I do as long as you understand I refuse to stop fighting for this dream. We all need each other and
were brought together to be a family. Please do not tear apart what fate has given us." The curve of her hips proved too tempting for him to ignore and he smoothed his palms over her soft skin. "I do not claim to comprehend life's mysteries. I only know I want you and that's enough."
"It will be a few hours before the children awake." A note of teasing rang in her voice as she pushed him backwards onto the bed with a gentle shove. "And you did say last night wasn't your best work."
Blake growled when she joined him amidst the twisted bedclothes that smelled of their last joining. "Woman, I believe you have issued a challenge I cannot ignore." The playful side to her personality aroused him more than her touch.
She brazenly rubbed her body against his. "I am still waiting for some Christmas magic, elf."
His reaction was immediate as he pinned her to the mattress. "Prepared to be amazed."
* * * *
Later that morning, Bethany hid a yawn behind her hand. Blake had kept her busy for hours as he proved more than once that their first attempt at sex could be improved upon. Her body ached in places she had no idea could feel, yet she existed in a fog of happy contentment.
She belonged with him; in fact, she couldn't contemplate even one day without him in her life.
Miracles did exist and one had happened to her.
Taking a sip of tea, she glanced around the front room. A cheery fire blazed in the fireplace and threw flickering shadows along the walls. Tiny flames winked from the dark green branches of the Christmas tree while John and Sarah played quietly nearby with their new toys. Blake had given her an exquisite cameo broach, which she had promptly pinned to the collar of her blouse. The only thing she gave him in return was a white handkerchief she'd embroidered with his initials. He hadn't seemed to mind and tucked the offering into his pocket with a smile.
How he had known that John wanted toy soldiers and Sarah asked for a doll, she'd never figure out but suspected it must be due to his identity as an elf. It was enough he'd provided them. Mrs. Abermarle's contribution was a wooden sled with red-painted runners for John and a set of jacks and paper dolls for Sarah.
She moved her gaze to Blake and a surge of warmth flooded her body when he winked. Though he sat in his favorite chair and she the rocker, her insides reacted as if he'd pulled her onto his lap. The dear man hadn't hidden his ears when he came down to join them for present opening and she loved him even more for his honesty. Apparently, John already knew that he was an elf. Sarah had not, but to her credit, she'd merely stared at him, frowned then asked him if it hurt to wear tight fitting hats.
God, she loved the children so much, it almost became a physical ache. She loved Blake with the same intensity, but in a different way.
Unfortunately, there had been no time between this moment and when the children had come downstairs to ask their permission to stay. It preyed on her mind and stole a bit of the joy from the intimate scene.
"Mr. Wenchal, will you tell us a story?" John drifted over to Blake's chair and rolled a metal wagon over his knee. "Aunt Bethany did not do so last night and it was Christmas Eve." The look the boy threw over his shoulder at her condemned her to the dregs of society.
With a chuckle Bethany felt deep inside, Blake picked John up and placed the boy on his lap. "Of course. Storytelling is one of my favorite things." He glanced at Sarah and his brown eyes twinkled. "Sarah, come over here and listen. This particular story has been too long untold."
Bethany smiled at the coziness of the scene. For the first time in a long while, they all seemed happy. Content. Sadness would not be welcome as a visitor any longer. She left the rocking chair to sit on the corner of the sofa nearest to Blake.
"This story began ten years ago. It's about an elf—"
"From the North Pole?" John wanted to know. He tapped one of his sock-covered feet on the armrest of the chair.
"Not exactly, my boy. Elves that live in the cold regions of the world call their home the Northern Realm, and instead of working for Santa Claus, they call him the Sovereign. Everyone who works in the Northern Realm is happy and cheerful all the time, no matter what. Except for one elf and he had a problem."
Sarah leaned against Bethany's legs. "He was sad, wasn't he? He did not want to be happy because he did not have anything in the world that made him laugh or feel special."
"You are correct, Sarah." Blake nodded and his eyes took on a faraway light. "He could not understand why the others never worried about things in the world or never became angry when plans went awry. He did not want to laugh at pointless things or humorless jokes for the sake of them being previously funny."
"What did he do?" John's eyes were big and wide.
"He jested about a few people, at the holiday and also the Sovereign himself. The Royal Court became angry at the elf and banished him to the mortal realm until he could learn compassion and love." Blake stroked a hand over John's curls. "The elf could never return to the Northern Realm. He had to find a regular job, but the only thing he knew how to do was paint toys."
Bethany smiled. The children hung on his every word. He was patient with them and gentle, as if he were born to be with them. "The elf does a wonderful job with his toys. When he is finished, they almost have a new life."
"That is true. He loved making the toys; however, it brought him no joy." Blake sighed. "The years went by and the only person he had to talk to was his neighbor. She badgered him to no end until he wanted to tear his hair out, but sometimes, he would smile and maybe once a year he would laugh. Still the years came on like a relentless parade. Just when he thought he was the saddest he'd ever been something happened to change his whole life."
"What?" John abandoned the cart and the toy clattered to the floor. "What was it?"
"I know." Sarah scooted across the rug and laid a hand on Blake's empty knee. "He met us."
Blake tweaked her nose. "Smart girl. I did indeed meet you children and your aunt. You brought happiness into my life. You gave me the gift of laughter. You helped me learn to love."
The flutter of butterfly wings danced through Bethany's stomach at his frank admission but she remained silent, not willing to interrupt his story.
"You learned your lesson, Mr. Wenchal. Will you go back to the Northern Realm and work with the other elves again?" John's lower lip pushed out with a frown as he played with Blake's cheery red necktie.
"That depends on your aunt."
Sarah shot to her feet. Her face grew flushed and her eyes sparkled with tears. "But I wrote a letter to Santa asking for a family! You cannot leave us. That is not how the wish is supposed to go!"
John squirmed from Blake's lap. "I wished for a family, too." His pout deepened. "You're a very mean elf, Mr. Wenchal."
"Patience, children." He held up his hands in a gesture of defeat. "I also wished for a family. More than anything I want you two to live here with me." His gaze swept over them to focus on Bethany. "I want to teach John how to play baseball. I want to escort Sarah to her first dance. Above all, I want to call you my own."
Bethany swallowed hard as he rose, grabbed her hands and tugged her into a standing position. "You are not playing fair."
"Neither are you." His grin rivaled the heat of the fire. "Marry me, Bethany. Let me call you my wife and make me the happiest of men for Christmas." He squeezed her hands. "I love you and your kids. I want to be part of your family. It is short notice, I know, but we can work through the problems. I have never been surer about anything in my life."
John pulled at her skirt. "Please say yes, Aunt Bethany. He's good and he is an elf. No one else has one and he can be just ours."
She glanced at Sarah, the little girl who was always the voice of reason. Suddenly, she wanted Sarah to find happiness more than herself or John since she had taken the deaths of her parents hard. "What do you think, Sarah-girl? Is he trustworthy? If we stay with Mr. Wenchal, will you smile and laugh again?"
Sarah looked at the china-faced doll in her arms then at Bethany. "I wi
ll give my toys to the orphans and have nothing to play with all year just as long as you marry him." She lifted eyes full of hope. "He belongs to us, Aunt Bethany. Can't you feel it?"
Could she? Blake certainly unsettled her, but would he always want them? She wrenched her hands from his and fingered the broach at her throat. "What does it feel like, Sarah?" She asked the question out of curiosity even though her mind was already decided.
The girl rolled her eyes. "Like love." She shrugged. "If I give up all of my toys, would it be alright if I keep the doll? I have waited and waited all year for one just like this."
Bethany laughed and wiped away a few tears. Sarah was merely a child after all. "You may keep them all." She turned her attention to Blake and gasped with surprise at the intense hope in his beautiful brown eyes. "Yes. I will marry you, but I want your promise that you will never again be the disenchanted elf I met on your doorstep."
"My darling girl, how could I be with three such reminders of happiness in my life?"
She lifted her face to accept his kiss. As soon as his mouth came over hers, she knew their agreement was sealed and promises were given. Wrapping her arms tight about his neck, she kissed him with more enthusiasm that finesse, aware that the children looked on in open-mouthed wonder. After a time, she pulled away, put her lips to one of his wonderfully unique ears and whispered, "Once the children are asleep tonight, I will show you properly how I feel for you."
A red flush crept over his neck and he cleared his throat. "I look forward to it."
John pushed them apart. "Mr. Wenchal, what will happen since the head elf will not be returning to the Northern Realms?"
"I am not the head elf." Blake knelt down to John's eye level. "I will continue to work in the bank and paint toys, but the head elf lives next door so it would behoove you to behave year round. Not simply during the holiday season."
"Mrs. Abermarle is an elf, too?" John's eyes resembled twin full moons. "But she's a girl."
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