No Mistletoe Required Page 7

  But this time, he forced himself to discover the few places he hadn’t before. The line of her legs, covered by long socks the other weekend. Her ticklish feet. And then, her breasts. She held her breath before he even reached them. Anticipation? Maybe. But when he simply nuzzled into the soft skin, taking little nips as he cruised over her skin, she breathed again, easier.

  He found a little indent on the side of one breast, kissed it. A scar, he realized. Small, but there. He almost asked about it, but she twisted her torso and reached into her nightstand, coming up with a condom.

  “If you don’t put this on and get inside me, I might go crazy. Actually...” A coy smile curved her lips. “I think I’ll be taking over the protection for the night. She shoved at his shoulder, and he rolled obligingly until she straddled him. And then Anna gave him a tutorial in taking the art of safe sex and turning it into a performance.

  Her teeth gripped the edge of the foil and she pulled slowly, deliberately, until she could slide two fingers inside and pull the condom from the packet. One small hand gripped his shaft, pumped once, and her thumb brushed over the sensitive head. And then, oh God. She bent over and took him in her mouth.

  He fisted his hands in her comforter, resisting the urge to grip her head and set a faster, more efficient pace. But he managed to let her play, let her discover. And as he hissed out a breath when her tongue rimmed beneath the head of his cock, she looked up and grinned.

  “Found the spot, didn’t I?” Not giving him a chance to reply, she repeated the motion and hummed with pleasure as he moaned. She’d found his spot. The one spot guaranteed to drive him insane, like a dog getting its belly scratched. His hips twitched up in response and she pulled back.

  “I wanna lead this time.” When she finally rolled the condom down his shaft and then straddled him, Dan knew he was either at the gate of heaven or hell. Which gate depended on how long she made him suffer.

  “Anna,” he rasped.

  Taking that for the plea for mercy it was, she slid down, taking him fully inside. She sighed, wiggling above him, as if the long-awaited reunion was all she’d been thinking about for the entire week.

  No, wait. That was him. He flexed up.

  She wriggled a little harder. “Just calm down now. I’m setting the pace for mutual enjoyment.”

  “More like mutual frustration,” he growled. She laughed as he tried everything within his power to get her to speed up. Her knees squeezed at the outside of his hips, her hips pushed down against him, her hands clenched around his arms. And finally, the kicker. Contracting around him, rhythmically, insistently.

  “Dammit, you don’t play fair.” He gave up the show of letting her set the pace and rolled, putting her under him. If she was going to argue, her mouth snapped shut as he pulled back and pushed in again and again, faster this time, picking up the pace as she squeezed around him tightly.

  “There we go,” she breathed. Then her breathing changed, hitched, signaled a shift, and he knew she was close.

  He wanted to fall back, to not rush over the edge, to keep the game running. But he was as incapable of waiting as she was. And so he pushed himself harder until they both reached the final peak.

  As he collapsed over her, pulling her over to his side, she smiled against his shoulder.

  “Why, it’s a Christmas miracle,” she said in a teasing voice.

  “Smart ass.”

  “And proud.”

  * * *

  She traced one finger over his chest, following the lines of his body. The rise of his pectorals, the ridges of his abdomen, the indent of his navel. The method was soothing, calming her mind. She let her thoughts drift easily, as free-flowing as her touch on his skin.

  “Why do you hate this time of year?”

  “Hmm?” He breathed deeply, his chest rising beneath her hand. “Oh.” He breathed quietly for a few minutes, and she gave him time to debate whether to tell her or not. “When I was a kid, we were on the way to my grandparents’ house for Christmas, to open gifts. Hit some black ice. Crashed. I came out with a broken leg and a few stitches, no big deal.”

  She held her breath, already afraid she knew what he was about to say.

  “My parents died.” He shrugged, though it wasn’t at all a casual topic for him. His heart pounded in his chest, and she soothed her palm over it. He caught her hand in his, laced their fingers together over his heart. “As a kid, you make up all these wild reasons as to why bad things happen. And they really don’t even make sense most of the time.”

  She knew. Knew all too well. She’s already been a teenager when she’d been diagnosed with leukemia. A little too old to play the mental ‘What If’ fantasy game. But still, her mind had flown to the impossible, mostly to cope.

  “I guess some of those weird reasons stuck with me. Like blaming the season for their death. If we hadn’t been heading to my grandparents because it was Christmas...” He shrugged again. “A part of me feels weird—wrong—celebrating the time of the year when they died. Like I’m celebrating their death. So I gave it up. Gave up believing, gave up caring.”

  “That’s not what it’s about, though.” She spoke softly, not sure if he wanted her to continue. When he was silent, she took a chance. “I’m sure your parents would hate to think you couldn’t find joy in the season because of the timing. It sounds like they enjoyed the holiday, and wanted to spend it with loved ones.”

  “They did,” he agreed.

  “And you don’t really blame Christmas for their deaths now, as an adult, do you?”

  He made a face. “Of course not. That’s not rational. I just...got in the habit of not appreciating the time. Not going out of my way to enjoy myself, like some weird acknowledgement of my parents. Like, if I wasn’t having fun, then I wasn’t forgetting them. Intentionally enjoying the holiday...”

  He sighed and shook his head. “I know it’s crazy now. But it made sense at the time. And everyone else followed my lead. They accepted that I didn’t want to talk about it, deal with it, be bothered by it.” He stroked down her arm, raising goosebumps along her skin in his wake. “Until you. You made me stare Christmas down and accept it. Stop living in the past and embrace the present. Nobody else tried before. I think they just assumed I wanted to be miserable.”

  “Did you?”

  He laughed. “Probably. Being miserable is better than grieving.”

  “But grief can be healthy. It’s good to remember them.”

  “I’m starting to realize that.” He squeezed her tighter to him. “You’re a big part of that.”

  He was quiet then, his breathing starting to even out as if he’d fallen into a deep sleep. And she realized she’d made a huge tactical error. The more time they spent together, the more she liked him. The more she liked him, the harder it would be to give him up after the project was done. But that’s what she had to do. Give him up. It wasn’t fair to string him along.

  Why couldn’t they have met next Christmas, when her self-imposed no-dating deadline was almost over?

  * * *

  He loved watching Anna’s body subconsciously react to his touch. She woke by inches. Or, rather, he woke her by inches—every new inch of her skin that he covered with a kiss, she seemed to shift under him just a little more, to respond instinctively without quite surfacing from her dreams. He worked his way around to her nipples, finding them already hard, peaked, ready for his mouth. As he took one in, sucking gently, he used his fingers to tease the other. She arched into him, but her eyes stayed closed. He wondered if she really was still asleep.

  Finally, she cracked one eye open and watched him. “What are you up to?”

  “We skipped the movie portion of the evening,” he explained logically. “So I was going to put on a show.”

  “Mmm. Sounds like a plan.” Her hands came to his head, lightly scratching through his hair.

  God, she made him feel good. Made him feel open, more happy than he’d been in a long time. Knew what buttons of his to
push, which to leave alone.

  And he knew he’d never felt like this about a woman before. Which was crazy, he realized, switching to her other breast, fingers coming to the first one, relishing in her moan of pleasure. They’d known each other a week.

  But then again, stranger things had happened. He wasn’t going to call it love. He was going to just admit to the possibility of more. The want for more. The need for it.

  He came once more to that tiny indent on the side of her breast, let his tongue trace the scar. He had plenty of his own scars from childhood. All over his knees, his legs, his hands. Falls, scrapes, fights. But this was an odd place for one. “What happened here?”

  “Nothing to worry about.” She tried to navigate his head another direction, but he stayed put.

  “I’m sure, but I’m still curious. Don’t all scars have stories?” He watched as her face morphed from lax pleasure to worry, and a little bit of stubbornness.

  “It’s not a big deal. Time to move on.” She worked hard to flip him over onto his back, but he stayed firm.

  The little voice in the back of his mind told him he didn’t want to let go quite that easily. “I thought getting to know each other was a part of this whole dating process.”

  “Dating?” She sat up then, startling him into rotating to the side. “We’re not dating. This is sex. One of those holiday fling things. You walk your way after the Workshop is over, I walk mine. No commitment necessary.”

  His brows furrowed. Not quite how he envisioned having the conversation, but it was right in front him so, change of plans. “It might not be necessary, but maybe I want it.”

  “Maybe I don’t,” she shot back, shifting until she was at the edge of the bed. “Look, right now? Not a good time for me and commitment. It’s just not going to happen.”

  She sounded so sure, so certain of herself. But her eyes told a different story. “That’s it? You’re just going to write off what could be because it’s bad timing?”

  She nodded once. “People do it all the time.”

  “People might. But what the hell is going on? Are you not the same person who’s spent so much effort getting me into the Christmas spirit? To get me to let go of my hang-ups and enjoy the moment? Now, suddenly, it’s bad timing?”

  “It just is,” she bit out.

  He watched her for a moment. “Okay, so I get it now. It’s totally cool to make someone else open up about something painful, something they wanted to keep buried. But when it’s your turn, you have no problems clamming up. Real hypocritical, Anna.”

  She shook her head. “Timing isn’t in my control. I can’t change that.”

  “You can change your outlook.” Taking a deep breath, he squeezed his eyes shut. If he pushed harder, he might ruin any chance to fix it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get into this yet. Let’s just calm down, put it aside. We can talk about it some other—”

  “No. I think now’s good.” She stood and walked to the closet, reaching inside for a robe and slipping it on. The sash cinched tightly, punctuating her words. “It was inevitable. And so this is probably just for the best. It was fun. You were a great volunteer and you really stepped up to help out playing Santa. But clearly this isn’t going to end any better if we let it go on. So we’ll stop now.”

  His jaw dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Of course I am. Haven’t you ever had a fling before?” With a final jerk on the sash, she walked over to where his clothes lay in a puddle. “They have an expiration date.”

  “You’re not even going to consider that there’s something more here.”

  “I can’t. Not right now.” She handed him his boxers, which he took automatically, without thought. Folding his jeans nicely, she placed them and the shirt next to him on the bed. “Do you want me to make some coffee? I have disposable to-go cups.”

  “I, uh...” He stared at the boxers in his hand. This was definitely not going as planned.

  “I could use a cup myself.” She bent over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Come on out whenever you’re ready.”

  The bedroom door shut behind her.

  He wasn’t ready. Not even close. But what the hell did someone say to that? He’d known her a week. He couldn’t very well fight her to stay in her life. He’d be a stalker. Or, well, not a stalker, but he could easily assume she wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.

  So he did the best thing he could come up with on the fly. He dressed, pasted a casual smile on his face and went to get a cup of goddamn coffee.

  * * *

  “He’s so sad.” Beth angled her shoulder into Anna’s. “What did you do to him?”

  “Nothing,” she bit off. “He’s not sad. He’s just...concentrating.” She dared a glance over her shoulder to watch as Dan helped replace one of the strings of lights looped at the top of the rec room wall.

  “He’s moping,” her senior corrected. “It’s the last weekend. Why don’t you hang out with him? He was so adorable last week, coming by every night after work in his suit, just to see if you were around. I mean, he never said that. But it was obvious.”

  Anna rolled her eyes. How could that conversation possibly go? Oh, we already hung out. Which led to sex. And it was delicious, and I want more of it. Lots more. But I can’t have it for reasons that are nobody’s business but my own and so I kicked the sad puppy out of my bed and made him sadder because I’m a sadist.

  Yup. That checked all the boxes.

  The last weekend before Christmas was in full swing, and the break before the evening volunteer shift was a madhouse. All the kids wanted to come down and make gifts for their parents or see Santa to remind him one more time about their wish list. The little girl who had quietly whispered in Santa’s ear that she wanted hair for Christmas had broken Anna’s heart. The memories of her own teenage wishes for hair when her head had been covered with fuzz broke her. She’d had to excuse herself and make a dash for the supply closet. It was ten minutes before she’d been able to pull herself back together enough to finish out her Mrs. Claus time.

  Dan climbed back down the ladder, handing the busted string to Geoff standing below him so he could get a better grip. A scattering of applause broke out and Geoff gave a goofy grin and a formal bow, playing to the crowd. Dan just smiled quietly and folded the ladder.

  “Go make him not so sad. It’ll be good for you.”

  Anna turned back to Beth. “Someone is being a rogue elf. Go do something festive. Away from here.”

  “Yes, Sarge Claus.” With a click of her jingle heels, she headed off to the rest of the volunteers congregating around the snack table.

  The last weekend, he’d been so energetic. So excited to help. Even when a child would come up and ask him a question, he didn’t look scared to answer, but spoke with confidence, even offering assistance. He’d come out of his holiday funk, so much as she could see.

  And now he seemed right back where he started. Because she’d had to kick the puppy.

  It’s better for him this way. If I wait until after the holidays, he’s going to see me as a savior or something and then it’s only going to hurt worse.

  Right. She’d just keep telling herself that.

  Chapter Eight

  “So, you’re coming with me for Christmas, right?”

  Dan grunted and wiggled until the heavy metal ladder slid into its designated spot in the storage room, doing his best to forget that the last time he was in this small room with someone else, he’d been busy doing something other than talking. “Coming where?”

  “My folks. For Christmas Day. You’re usually gone on vacation somewhere so I’ve never asked you before, but since you’re here this year...” Geoff held up his hands. “What do you say?”

  Dan considered the offer, but he already knew the answer. “Nah, I’m gonna do my own thing this year. Thanks for the invitation though.”

  “Dude. Come on.” Geoff clapped a hand over his shoulder. “You can’t do this to yourself. Every
year you start getting worse as it gets closer. And by December, you’re impossible. But I thought things were going to be different this year.”

  Dan looked back to the double doors that led to the rec room. “So did I.” He shrugged his shoulder to dislodge his friend’s hand. “Just...let me think about it. Okay?”

  Geoff’s eyes followed his to the doors, but he didn’t say anything other than, “Okay.”

  * * *

  “Mom, I’m here!” Anna juggled shopping bags from hand to hand and shucked out of her jacket before turning the corner and finding her mother, Nancy, in the kitchen. “Where’s Dad?”

  Her mother rolled her eyes. “In the den, watching basketball. Where else would he be on Christmas? What are those?”

  Anna held up the two big shopping bags. “My gifts. Easier to carry this way.” Setting them on the floor, she planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Looks good. Turkey going in the oven soon?”

  “Naturally. Your brother hasn’t arrived yet, which means there’s some cinnamon rolls left if you didn’t eat breakfast.” Her mother gasped as Anna plucked one out of the tin and ate it. “Plate, you heathen.”

  “They taste better like this,” she said around a mouthful of warm, yeasty roll and icing, grinning.

  “I raised a bunch of animals.” Nancy looked behind her exaggeratedly. “Come alone?”

  “Of course I came alone. Was I supposed to pick someone up?”

  “One of these years, you or your brother will make me a happy woman and bring home a potential spouse. Why neither of you can commit is beyond me.”

  “You know why, Mom.” She spoke quietly, brushing icing off her fingers with a napkin. “I’ve still got another year left.”