Page 65 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses

And she was lost.

Pleasure ripped through her, a sensory explosion. He swallowed her cry, covering her lips with his own as they worked together, clutching and biting and gasping, ringing every drop of gratification from the moment. His breath scorched her skin, the sentiments flowing into her ear both tender and frantic. With a final gasping kiss to her brow, he pulled out and rolled to his side, completing outside her body.

Wave after wave crested as she struggled to catch her breath. Her skin tingled, and she swept her hand over her breasts and down her belly to halt the tremors. Her vision blurred, so she closed her eyes. There was no need trying to gatheranythingbeyond air.

When she collected her thoughts, she whispered, “Disengaging was the proper plan.” A logical decision, the best decision. Yet, she wished they were still joined. Startled by the thought, she turned her head to find his turning toward her.My, he was gorgeous, every disheveled, sweaty inch of him. And he smelled like heaven.Theysmelled like heaven.

He was silent for a pensive moment. Then he sighed, angled his arm around her and dragged her against him. Into the nook between his shoulder and rib, where she fit quite nicely. Quite perfectly. “A baby would be a muddle, wouldn’t it?” he finally asked.

She listened to his heartbeat relax its bounding rhythm, the realization that she’d never felt this connected to another human being crashing down upon her. “Unquestionably.”

But she comprehended, and maybe he did, too, that she was lying.

* * *

“I think you broke the skin.” Caleb peered at the heel of his palm. “Remind me not to get in the way of your pleasure, countess.”

Macy took his hand, shifted it into the firelight. There was a faint mark. She didn’t know why she’d tried to contain herself by biting him when no one could hear them above the roar of the surf slapping the wharf. “Many apologies for my enthusiasm, sir.”

He presented a lopsided grin and handed her an apple slice, his beloved dimple pinging to life. Devilish charm on full display. “Ilikeyour enthusiasm.”

They sat before a stone hearth in a makeshift sitting area outside his bedroom. He’d organized a hasty picnic, producing cheese, apples, crackers. And ale that tasted so good she wanted to guzzle it. A veritable feast when one’s strength had been exhausted making love. Three sessions, with brief naps in between.Three. Each better than the last, if she could propose such an outlandish thing.

He’d pulled on his breeches, and he sat across from her, knees bent, amber firelight rippling over his face and chest. She wore his shirt. An impulsive decision. And she’d known he liked her wearing it because he’d come in, arms loaded with food, and when he saw her, he halted so suddenly he almost tripped.

Blinked hard while he stared—and she had justknownhe liked it.

He munched on a cracker, tilted his head. Tousled hair, lips swollen from use, cheeks rosy, he presented a handsome portrait. “Can I ask you a question?”

She drew her legs up and rested her chin atop her knees. “Uh-oh. That’s always the start of a question I don’t want to answer.”

He swallowed, took a sip of ale. “This is true. And I’m fishing, prying, which I usually don’t. Forget I asked, probably for the best.”

“Oh, heavens, ask.”

He opened his mouth, hesitated. Silence reigned as he gathered his thoughts. Finally: “Who hurt you?”

Startled, she bumped her head on the wooden crate she rested against.How did he know?Her uncle’s face flashed before her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around her legs and squeezed. “It was a long time ago. Or so it seems now.”

“No denial, then.” His fist clenched around the glass. “Your eyes, the way you watched me the first time I touched you. Like you were preparing for battle. Elle had a student a couple of years ago. There was abuse…and something about you, something in the way you reacted, reminded me of her.”

She blew out a breath.Where to start? “My father was a doctor, too. Did I tell you that?”

He shook his head and took another drink, his gaze focused on her.

“Anyway, his dream was to one day give his practice to his son. My mother tried. Four failed births before I came along.” She rubbed her chin on her knee. Wiggled her toes and recorded the dance of firelight over them. “I wanted his love, and when I realized gaining it was unattainable, I worked to gain his respect. I went on house calls with him, and lo and behold, found I had a talent for medicine. I could read a text and close my eyes and still see the words, so studying was effortless. Pictures, diagrams, charts. He was in practice with his brother, and I assumed I would join them. However, my father soundly rejected my proposal, telling me a women’s hospital was the place for me.” She trailed her foot over a knothole in the floor. The wood was luscious and gleamed in the light thrown from the gas sconce. “So, I turned to my uncle. This when I was around sixteen. I needed training, an internship of sorts, to get accepted into any recognized pre-medical program. He was patient. A middling doctor but a satisfactory teacher. He had no children, no wife. His life revolved around his profession.”

Caleb took her hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “And…”

“And then it revolved around me.”

His gaze shot to hers. “Youruncle?”

She linked their fingers, amazed the simple act could calm her so. “It started with casual touches. Inadvertent. He was apologetic. At first. Then he started making inappropriate comments. Then both. The way he looked at me, ah…it made my stomach turn. But I was young…and foolish. Unaware, to a point. He was my uncle, after all. I found him in my darkened bedchamber on one occasion, which is when I started locking my door and shoving my bureau in front of it.”

He squeezed her fingers, encouraging in his tender way. He was right, she needed to finish telling him while she could.

“My father believed me to be melodramatic. An irrational female. My mother was powerless or perhaps uninterested. I found another doctor willing to tutor me. Across town, but no matter. Two weeks before I was set to leave for college, he caught me in their office storeroom.” She ran her thumb over a scar on Caleb’s knuckle, marveling at the tender way such large hands had touched her. “I’d gone there to get gauze, I think. Or a bottle of rubbing alcohol. A neighbor with a badly infected cut I had promised to treat.”