Santa, Honey

by Sandra Hill

  His lips came down on hers, hungry and demanding. She responded with a surging hunger of her own. Her hands slid up and around his neck, and he deepened the kiss, urging her lips apart. He rose over her, pressing her down into the cushions, his erection brushing her thigh. Instinctively, she shifted, opening her legs, cradling him. He froze for a split instant, then his lips slid from her mouth and pressed in an open-mouth kiss against her shoulder.

  “God, Casey. I want to see all of you.”

  He lifted the hem of her sweater and eased it over her head, then went to work on the buttons of the blouse beneath. The shirt was soon gone, along with her bra, almost before she realized what had happened.

  He drew back a fraction, his eyes sweeping down her body. She shivered, and fought an urge to cover herself. She was small up top, at least compared to Emma. But if Matt minded, he was hiding it admirably. Only the best actor could have feigned the hot burn of lust in his eyes.

  He slid his hands up under her breasts, capturing her gaze and holding it as he brushed his thumbs over her nipples. The exquisite burst of pleasure dragged a moan from her throat.

  “No. Don’t close your eyes. Let me see you.”

  She obeyed, feeling even more vulnerable than before.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  A protest leapt to the tip of her tongue. At the last moment, she swallowed it unsaid. Attitude, Emma had said. Believe in yourself. Maybe it was time to take her sister’s advice to heart.

  He bent his head to her breast. Her hips came off the couch when his teeth captured one peaked tip in a gentle nibble. His hands went to the waist of her pants, sliding the button from its hole and tugging down the zipper. They slid over her bottom, taking her panties with them. And all the while his mouth was worshipping one breast, then the other.

  And then she was completely bare, his mouth trailing kisses between her breasts and down her belly. She gasped when he shifted his weight over the edge of the couch, dropping onto his knees before her. He hooked his arms under her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the couch, parting her legs wide at the same time. His chin brushed her mound. She felt his breath on her most tender skin.

  Panic struck. “Oh God. No.” She felt unbearably exposed. She’d never—“Matt. Wait. Don’t—aaah!”

  Her protests dissolved under the hot lash of Matt’s tongue. She fisted her hands in his hair, intending to push him away. Then he licked a sweet, perfect stroke and she found herself clutching him closer. She heard a low chuckle, but by that time he’d added his fingers to his sweet torture and she was beyond caring.

  She was so close to the edge. So close…

  She gasped when he suddenly drew back. “What—?”

  His answer was a tight smile. He half rose, hooking one arm under her knees and the other beneath her shoulder blades. He straightened, lifting her. Trembling, wanting, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his chest. His skin was damp. He smelled like sweat, lust, and wood smoke. She inhaled deeply as he covered the distance to his bed in three strides.

  He tumbled her down on the rumpled sheets. His heat withdrew as he rummaged in the nightstand drawer. She drank in his profile, anticipation coiling in her belly. The mattress dipped. Matt tossed a wrapped condom down beside her.

  Casey’s breath left in a whoosh. She hadn’t even thought of birth control. God, but her brain was completely scrambled. It was a good thing Matt’s was still functioning.

  He crawled over her on all fours, and the fire blazed anew between them. She arched toward him, sliding her hands over his chest and stomach, and lower. Taking him in her hands, she stroked hot, velvety skin over hard muscle. Once, twice, three times…

  He grabbed her hand, air sawing in and out of his lungs. “Watch it. Not yet.”

  His thigh sank between her legs. His eyes were closed, his expression almost one of pain. She could hardly believe she was lying in bed, naked, with a man like him. He was far more than she’d ever dreamed of—when she’d allowed herself to dream at all.

  The thought made her resolve fade fast. Was she anything like the woman of Matt’s dreams? Impossible. She was the woman who happened to be on hand.

  Doubts started crowding in.

  “Damn.” Matt swore softly. Eyes open now, he dipped his head to nip at her jaw. “Don’t leave me, Casey. Please. Whatever you’re thinking—stop it.”

  His teeth snagged her neck and gently bit. Her misgivings wavered. His hands swept down her body. The doubts scattered further. His thigh rode up firmly between her legs, and her brain blanked completely.

  And in that oblivion, a spark of confidence rekindled. Without stopping to think, Casey moved against Matt, matching his urgency. An instant later, she found the condom on the mattress beside them and tore it open. He supported himself on rigid arms above her as she covered him.

  Both his legs were between hers now, holding her apart as his fingers played wickedly. She scraped her palms on either side of his jaw and drew him down for a kiss. He took her lips with a growl, the tip of his erection sliding into place and pulsing against her wet heat.

  “Look at me, Casey.”

  She did. The expression in his eyes made her breath catch. Her need ratcheted up. Her hips tilted, inviting, pleading. He held her gaze as he entered her. Slowly. Her hands found the curve of his buttocks; she urged him closer. He flexed his hips and slid deeper. And deeper still.

  She bit her lip as he started rocking inside her. Stunning waves of sensation rippled through her body. He was watching her face, his eyes too knowing. Her eyelids fluttered closed.

  “No—don’t,” he whispered. He surged forward, then retreated. On the next stroke, he changed his angle subtly, and hit a spot that made her gasp. “I want to see it in your eyes when you come.”

  She wanted that, too.

  She opened her eyes. Their gazes caught, and their souls seemed to link. Her inner muscles contracted; she felt Matt pulse, deep inside.

  He groaned, and moved faster. “God, Casey. You feel…so good. So damn right.”

  “So do you.” A slow smile curved her lips. “Sinterklaas.”

  His half laugh dissolved into a groan as his cadence quickened even more. “Good” dissolved into something much, much, better as his strokes came harder, and faster, and harder still. Casey clutched Matt’s shoulders as the peak rushed her.

  Then she was over the edge, gasping his name, flying free. Matt’s arms wrapped firmly around her torso, drawing her flat against his damp skin. His lips pressed to the crook of her neck. His pleasure-roughened growl vibrated against her skin as his own orgasm hit.

  Afterward, Casey floated down to earth without a single doubt.

  Chapter Nine

  Dawn came and went. It had to be the best Christmas Matt had had in years. He didn’t even bother getting out of bed, except once, to build up the fire.

  He slid back under the quilt as quickly as he could. Casey was curled up on her side, hugging an extra pillow. There were about a thousand snarls in her hair. He smiled. He’d put just about every one of them there.

  He slid under the quilt and propped himself up on his elbow, facing her. She had a hickey on her neck. Looking at it got him hot all over again. The sex last night had been incredible. Casey had been incredible.

  If he’d met her in the city, he wouldn’t have given her a second look. Now he wondered what she saw in him. And all because he was a different man here in the gorge than he was in New York.

  He’d always known there was a part of himself he’d abandoned when he’d left his childhood home to find his way in the world. What he hadn’t known was that it had been here all that time, waiting for him to find his way back.

  But he wasn’t staying in this perfect world, was he? In a few days, he’d return to his life in the city, where he worked long hours, made difficult decisions, played complicated networking games. Where he wasn’t a laid-back, simple-pleasures kind of guy. And the truth was, he like
d his career and city life. His New York self was part of him, too. The bigger part now. He wasn’t about to leave it all to return to his roots permanently.

  His peaceful mood dimmed. He’d avoided telling Casey about his life outside Dutch Gorge. She’d made it clear what she thought about his world. Would she reconsider now that they’d slept together? Would she even like the man he was in the city?

  Damn. His morning-after glow was shot to hell. And Aunt Bea would be needing him soon in the kitchen. Sliding carefully out of bed, he showered and dressed. He was lacing up his boots when Casey stirred and sat up, blinking sleep from her eyes.

  “Matt?”

  “Over here,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Oh! It is Christmas, isn’t it?” Her shy smile squeezed his insides. “Merry Christmas.” Her gaze went to the window. “It’s light out. What time is it?”

  “Almost eight.”

  “And you’re going out? Already?”

  “Aunt Bea’s expecting me in the kitchen.” He hesitated. “I’ll be busy today. You won’t be seeing much of me before dinner. That’s at three, by the way. But there’ll be a cold breakfast spread in the dining room at ten. You can sleep until then.”

  “Or I could help you and Aunt Bea,” She started to get out of the bed, then stopped abruptly, jerking the covers back over her nude body. “Um…”

  Oh, man. Just one glimpse and he wanted to dive back into bed, and to hell with the city and the future. They were both here in the gorge now, weren’t they? For a couple more days, anyway.

  Unfortunately, he had work to do. He pulled on his coat. “Don’t even bother offering to help in the kitchen. You’re a lodge guest. Aunt Bea wouldn’t let you lift a finger.”

  “But—”

  He leaned over the bed and gave her a quick kiss. “Do me a favor. Get a couple extra hours of sleep. Believe me, you’re going to need it tonight.”

  “Why? What’s tonight?”

  He gave her a slow smile. “To night’s when I get you back into that bed.”

  Casey passed the next two days in a happy haze. More than once, she wondered when she was going to wake up and find out it was all a dream.

  Not that she wanted to wake up. No way. She was beginning to believe that Dutch Lodge was a little bit magical, like a wintery Shangri-la or something. She even found herself wishing for another blizzard. One that would keep the roads closed and her computer unplugged indefinitely.

  Matt’s Uncle Fred led a short prayer service before Christmas brunch, since the roads to the local churches were closed. Christmas afternoon, while Matt and Jake were occupied in the kitchen, Casey helped Emma and the rest of the lodge guests build a giant snowman in the front yard. Afterward, the whole group stomped back into the house, laughing and chatting, to roast chestnuts and drink hot cider.

  Christmas dinner was an elaborate affair, featuring roast goose and boterkoek, or almond butter cake. After dinner, Uncle Fred told traditional Dutch stories by the hearth.

  After Bea and Fred had said their good nights, and the fire had burned low, Jake tugged Emma up the stairs. Casey and Matt, arms entwined, made their way through the snow to the cabin. They made love half the night, and woke to the sun streaming through their windows.

  The day after Christmas brought sled races, snow angels, and hot chocolate. Casey even let Matt talk her into a pair of ice skates. She clung to him, laughing, as he hauled her around the frozen lake. And she wished the weekend would never end.

  But early Sunday morning, the outside world intruded, in the form of a pair of snowplows grinding down the road. The harsh reverberation of their engines shattered Casey’s fairy-tale reverie.

  Today was the day she and Emma returned to the city.

  Breakfast came early; immediately after, Matt and Jake attacked the lodge parking lot with a snowblower and shovels. Casey returned to the cabin alone, to gather her things and shove them into her duffle.

  She packed the mystery box last. Zipping the bag, she sat on the rumpled bed and hugged Matt’s pillow. His scent lingered; she inhaled deeply. Then, with one last look around, she hefted her duffel and laptop and headed to the lodge.

  Emma was sitting alone at the dining room table, sipping coffee. Casey poured a cup and joined her.

  “Jake asked me to come up to Boston for New Year’s,” Casey’s sister informed her. “What about you and Matt? Did you make plans?”

  “No.” Casey took more care than necessary spooning sugar into her cup. Somehow, as if by silent agreement, she and Matt hadn’t talked about what would happen between them after today. And what did that mean? She didn’t want to face it. “Matt didn’t say anything about New Year’s Eve. And it doesn’t matter. I’ll be working anyway.”

  If she still had a job after dropping off the face of the planet for four days.

  Emma made a face. “Working on New Year’s Eve is downright inhuman. I hope they’re paying you triple time. I guess you can see Matt afterward.”

  “I don’t know,” Casey said, trying to ignore an uneasy feeling in her gut. “Maybe, but then again…well, the thing is, Matt and I might not keep seeing each other. I mean, I’m not really into long distance relationships.”

  “What long distance? From the Village to the Upper West Side?”

  Casey went still. “What are you talking about? Matt lives in Boston.”

  Emma looked at her oddly. “No, he doesn’t. Jake and his sister live in Boston. Matt lives in Manhattan. He has a business there or something.”

  “No. That can’t be. He said he lived—” She hesitated, considering. “No. Actually, he never said anything about where he lived. I just assumed he lived in Boston, because he talked about driving there today with his aunt and uncle. But he was talking about driving to his sister’s house, wasn’t he?”

  Emma laughed. “I guess you two were so busy with other things, you forgot about exchanging addresses.”

  Casey frowned into her coffee. “I guess.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. He’ll call. I’d put money on it. Give him our number before we leave.”

  “Yeah,” Casey said. “I will.” But she wasn’t at all sure Emma would win her bet.

  Chapter Ten

  The Diva Diamonds New Year’s Eve deadline was breathing down Casey’s neck like a rabid tiger. Her team had under twenty-four hours to get everything in place. Casey stared, bleary-eyed, at her computer. It was going to be one hell of a night. She took a fortifying swig of coffee. Ugh. Cold.

  She dragged her sorry carcass to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot. She was lucky she still had her job. Her panicked colleagues had covered for her during her days off-line, wondering what had happened to her. They were immensely relieved when she’d returned. With a little added push, the project would come together tomorrow night at nine, right on schedule. And everything would be fine.

  But everything didn’t feel fine. It just felt…wrong. Her coffee…her apartment…her job…

  Her life.

  But that was ridiculous. Her life wasn’t wrong. It was fine. At least, it had been fine two weeks ago. And nothing was really different now. Therefore, logically, her life was still fine.

  Except that it wasn’t.

  Her life might be the same, but she wasn’t. She was the one who had changed. Into an idiot. And all because of a man.

  Pathetic.

  She didn’t want to think of Matt. But like that trick where you tried not to think of a pink elephant, every effort to banish the guy into some dark corner of her mind failed. He was onstage, front and center.

  With a sigh, she filled the coffeemaker, eyeing the bottom drawer under the cabinet where odd bits and pieces of stuff always ended up. She’d shoved Matt’s mystery box in there, with a rubber band ball, a couple of screwdrivers and the keys from her old apartment. The slip of paper with the question mark was still inside. She didn’t want to look at it. She didn’t even want to think about it. But she just didn’t have the heart to throw it away.

/>   She’d given Matt her phone number Sunday before leaving the gorge, just as Emma had suggested. It was only Wednesday now. Only three days later. Three days was nothing. And yet, it felt like a yawning chasm of time. In those same three days, Jake had called Emma at least a dozen times. And had texted her constantly in between. Well, of course he had. Men always called Emma.

  Casey’s little sister was currently holed up in the bathroom, humming as she put on her makeup. Jake had called from the train station a half hour ago; he’d be at the door any minute. He and Emma were going to a party tonight in the city, then heading back to Boston tomorrow for New Year’s Eve. Jake’s band was playing at some fancy hotel, and he’d insisted Emma join them as guest vocalist. Emma was thrilled.

  Casey pressed a sudden throbbing pain between her eyes. Emma had, of course, interrogated Jake about Matt. Jake had returned only the vaguest answers. Emma had made excuses for Matt, but as far as Casey was concerned, there was only one conclusion to draw. If Matt were interested, he would have called. He hadn’t, so he wasn’t.

  She wandered back out to the living room. Her computer screen had timed out and gone blank. Slumping onto the couch, Casey faced facts. The days—and nights—she’d spent in Dutch Gorge hadn’t been real. They’d been an aberration, a pleasant interlude. The problem was that she’d allowed herself to hope the gorge’s magic would follow her back to the city. It hadn’t.

  Leaning sideways, she flicked off the floor lamp, plunging the room into silent darkness. Not Dutch Gorge dark, of course. Plenty of artificial light spilled through the venetian blinds. And it wasn’t all that quiet, either. The closed window only blocked the worst of the street noise.

  “Casey? You in here?”

  She winced as Emma flipped on the overhead light. “There you are! I thought maybe you’d gone out. What are you doing sitting in the dark?”

  “I have a headache.”

  “Poor baby! You’re working too hard. Did you take something?”