Page 64 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses
Unmooring him from regret and fear, if only for one moment.
Once she’d steadied, he laid her tenderly on the bed. Smoothed his palm over her body like he was planing wood. She swallowed hard, slight pleasure tremors still rocking her. Her eyes when they met his had tinted black. “This explains…the comments at the sewing circle.”
A laugh sputtered from his lips. “What?”
“Please. As if. You—” She lifted her arm, did a vague finger-flick in his direction, then let it flop to the mattress. “You waged war, right there between my legs.”
He sat back on his heels, the mattress dipping. Waged war, had he? Damn if he didn’t like the sound of that. “Did I win?”
She jerked the pillow from beneath her head and tossed it at him. A girl’s throw that went a mile wide. Her reply broke through her amusement. “Yes, blast you, you won mightily.”
“Okay, then,” he said and crawled up the bed, determined to wage another, right this very minute.
CHAPTER FIVE
Macy had not imagined laughter to be a part of sexual congress.
Likewise, the mechanics, the anatomical piece, which she had a firm grasp on, didn’t fit, either. Not quite. Caleb was teaching her things she hadn’t expected to learn. Truthfully, lovemaking wasn’t atallwhat she’d expected when she followed blind need down a not-so-well-lit garden path.
His playfulness, for one. And his patience. Both challenged her modest expectations. He was sensitive, respectful,generous. His bodyfithers. Caleb’s big, incredible body fithers,she concluded as he lowered his hips into place between her thighs. Also, he’d done unspeakable, amazing things to her with his mouth.
And she’d not only let him, she’d been comfortable doing so. Safe and protected.
Hungry, desirous, wild.
Again, please.
There’d been that moment, when she hadn’t decided, with her foot wedged against his belly, whether she wished to claim him or push him away. Then his kindness shone a bright light on her decision. He hadn’t pressed. He’d merely waited. For her.
It was a revelation.
Afundiscovery, when life threw so few of those her way. No woman of her acquaintance had ever,ever, told her lovemaking was agreeable. Savannah and Elle had hinted at a positive experience, but everyone else?
Untidy. Painful.Boring.
Whenitwas fascinating.Hewas fascinating. His radiance bleeding like paint spilled from a can and coloringherinteresting. He was a creator, a designer, an artist. Elinor Macy Dallas—otherwise known as the Mouse—making a virile man like Caleb pant, tremble and want was beyond her comprehension.
Take that, Johns Hopkins Medical School class of 98’. The Mouse is no more.
Her final thought as he drove his fingers into her hair and shifted her mouth to his was:how do I keep him?
Their kisses grew reckless, their touches bold. Inflaming, inciting. They were a damp tangle of arms and legs across the bed and against the headboard. Without giving her a moment’s respite, he continued the worship of her body. Teeth scraping her collarbone. Lips caressing her nipples. Fingers stroking inside her. His particular, intensely erotic scent imprisoning her.
Releasing a harsh exhalation, he pulled back, gazed into her eyes and adjusted below, his rigid tip meeting her juncture, a stimulating challenge. “Don’t worry, I’ll go—”
She cut him off with a kiss, dug her nails into his back and lifted her hips to bring him home. He rocked into her slowly, as she guessed he’d been about to promise to. There was one brief, painful flare, then only the delightful weight of him, stretching, probing. Setting off sparks inside her. Like sun shimmers across cresting waves, zaps traveling from her lips to her toes. When they were locked as deeply as humanly possible, he began to move, sliding out to the absolute brink, then pausing at the end of the stroke, whispering, seeking approval. Guidance. Divine intervention.
“Amazing,” she breathed and locked her legs around his waist. “You.”
He groaned low in his throat and clutched her bottom, increasing his speed, his thrusts lifting her off the mattress. He had left behind his measured playfulness and replaced it with resolute purpose. Lost to sensation, she was unable to do more than move with him, groan and gasp with him. Accept his bottomless kisses and let them flow through to her soul. Grasping her thigh, he angled her leg around his hip. Deeper admittance, gentle but devastating.
They were a jumble of moist skin, feverish need, turbulent desire.Want. She craved him with a keenness that threatened to break her. Gloriously, he filled every vacant space until they seemed two halves of one body, flawlessly allied.
“I can’t…much longer, sweetheart. Too good, too much.”
She watched, transfixed, as he surrendered to her. Eyes the color of a stormy sea, broad shoulders glistening, muscles in his biceps flexing as he thrust. His unspoiled bandage winking in the light. His hand trailed between their bodies, his fingers circling the nub that would provide her boundless gratification.
“If you can, come with menow,” he urged and lowered to suck her nipple between his teeth.