Something Beginning With Mistletoe (Something Borrowed Book 3)

by Louisa George

  Her eyes flickered open and as the kiss continued she watched the slow dance of snowflakes, the glittering magical light. And Blake’s heated gaze filled with emotion—an emotion she didn’t want to put a name to—that she felt deep inside.

  This…this…was a Christmas memory she wanted to fix in her mind forever.

  Sudden movement caught her eye; snow falling from a branch landing softly with an oomph on his head. He jumped back, looking up at the tree and laughing. ‘Faith Langley, did you arrange for that to happen?’

  ‘No, it was just wishful thinking.’ She giggled and brushed the snow from his hair. Stopping to run her hand across his jaw. God, he was amazing. This was amazing. She’d never known she could feel like this with someone. Never allowed herself to try.

  ‘Right. In that case…’ He scooped snow into his hand and stuffed it down her collar.

  ‘No!’ She grabbed fistfuls and stuffed them in his face.

  ‘Come back here!’ Laughing, he caught her then hauled her close, kissed her hard and fast this time as she shivered against him. Curled into his heat as more laughter leapt free from her throat.

  Eventually, reluctantly, he pulled away and groaned. ‘Come on, we need to get going before we freeze to death.’

  With the heat burning inside her Faith imagined it’d take a few days before that happened. But she climbed back on the bike and followed him to the Marble Arch gate.

  Blake rattled it but it didn’t open. ‘Shoot. It’s closed. We’re going to have to climb out.’

  The gate was neck-height on her. They’d have to shimmy up and over somehow. ‘No! No way.’

  He shrugged. ‘Okay. We’ll just freeze to death here, then. I think the park opens again at five. We have four and a half hours. Can you think of a way to keep warm?’

  She knew he wasn’t being serious. They’d get out somehow. ‘Aren’t you supposed to take all your clothes off and snuggle up close in a sleeping bag?’

  ‘I like where you’re going with that. Only, first problem—no sleeping bag. Second problem—we’re in a city of eight million people. At some point someone is going to see us.’ His icy hand snaked up the inside of her coat. Then her jumper, then her T-shirt, until it met skin.

  She squirmed away from his hand. ‘Whoa! Too. Cold.’

  ‘Then I’ll take a rain check. Let’s get out of here, and then naked.’ First he hauled bike one, then bike two over, and slid them gently down the other side of the railings. Then he jumped, caught the top of the fence in his hands and pulled himself up, light and agile. Perched high above her, he reached out his hand. ‘Here. Jump. I’ll pull you up.’

  ‘No way. You might be a natural gymnast, I’m more of the sloth version of human. Can I crawl under?’

  ‘There’s no gap. Seriously. Catch my hand.’

  Jumping as high as she could, she still didn’t manage to grip his fingers. But that may well have been because she was laughing so hard. ‘Geez, if a police officer comes down here we’ll be in big trouble.’

  ‘For breaking and exiting? I don’t think there’s a law for that.’ He swung his leg over the top of the fence and slid down to the ground on the opposite side. ‘Come on, Faith, you can do this.’

  His belief in her made her heart swell. Damn, she believed she could do it, too. And, third time lucky, after she jumped as high as she could and quite probably looked like a complete numpty, she did. He caught her as she slithered down the other side, and wrapped her close against him. ‘See, you’ve just got to believe, Faith.’

  They cycled round Marble Arch, impossible to do without fear of death during the day but eerily quiet now. Then he suddenly stopped and took her hand, eyes serious. ‘I know this may not be what you want to see, but do you trust me?’

  Trust me. She wanted to. ‘I guess.’

  ‘Then follow me.’

  She turned the corner and the long straight line of Oxford Street stretched ahead, and above it a million shining lights mingled with the stars in a clear inky sky. Shapes twinkled overhead; angels, doves, huge glass snowflakes. She blinked and blinked again, trying to take it all in. ‘Oh my goodness, it’s breathtaking.’

  ‘It’s best at this time of night because there’s no one else to see it.’

  And as they cycled down the empty street it felt as if this whole night was just theirs. A guard of honour made up of glass and white light.

  At Oxford Circus they turned down Regent Street and meandered past a huge toy shop, stopping to look at the amazing display of mechanical drummers and soft velvet reindeer outside a grotto and tree not dissimilar to the ones in her pub. A strong stab of memory flickered in her head. ‘Oh. I remember my mum bringing me here years ago just to look in the window.’

  Before.

  The memory turned into a physical ache. She didn’t want to think about that. Shivering, she slid back onto the seat and set off cycling again. ‘Let’s go.’

  But he fell into place next to her, slowly pedalling and talking softly. ‘Your mum hurt you?’

  There was no point in denying it. ‘Yes. She did.’

  ‘You want to tell me?’

  She didn’t want to open that box. ‘No. I don’t want to spoil this lovely evening.’

  ‘And I don’t want it to end. Let’s grab something to eat. I know a place. Just about…here.’

  ‘Here?’ She followed his pointed finger to a butter-coloured stone building with two large flags on poles and an impressive arched entranceway. ‘The Café Royal? No way. They won’t let us in. It’s the middle of the night.’

  ‘I take that as a challenge.’

  Within minutes they were being settled into a gloriously squishy leather sofa in a cosy, soft-lit bar. Across the room an old man was playing soft music on a baby grand piano.

  Faith felt drunk with laughter and sensation and physical exertion as a waiter brought over two glasses, a bottle of wine and a plate of cheese and crackers. Blake was sitting next to her, close. ‘You were telling me about your mum.’

  ‘I think you’ll find I was not talking about my mum.’

  His fingers, thawed out now and warm, ran little circles on the back of her neck. Massaging. Stroking. Lulling her into relaxation. ‘You know, my parents died and I was broken for a long time, but I always think of them with love. That gives me some peace, knowing we had good times, that they loved us. But when you talk about your mum your whole body locks up.’

  ‘For good reason.’ She didn’t feel so locked up now, not with his hands on her neck and his breath like a soft breeze on her throat.

  ‘Talking helps.’

  ‘You had therapy or something?’

  ‘No. But I reckon if I had, things would have been easier.’ His lips touched where his fingers had been—the soft, sensitive part of her neck, just below her ear. Then trailed down to her collarbone. ‘I want to know.’

  And she wanted him and it seemed it was a case of tell and kiss, not kiss and tell. Her eyes fluttered closed as he kissed along her jawline. When he reached her mouth his lips were giving, loving.

  Loving. The thought made her heart hurt. She wanted to be able to love again. But it had felt as if all that had been buried along with her Gramps. The man who saved her.

  She took a deep breath, because being able to love was brave and bold, and that was what she intended to be. ‘Okay. It was the school Christmas fair. They were playing all that jolly music. All I Want For Christmas, I Saw Grandma Kissing Santa Claus…you know the ones. But, as it turned out, it wasn’t grandma kissing Santa Claus, it was my mother, in one of the store cupboards at the back of the school hall. Unfortunately Santa was the head teacher of St Brendan’s Primary School. And married to someone else.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  The red heat of shame spread over Faith’s skin. ‘She was the reason I moved schools. Why Gramps took me in to live with him. I had to get away from St Brendan’s. I couldn’t bear another minute of standing in the playground being shouted at by the other kids, chantin
g words only adults could have taught them. Your mother’s a whore. Marriage wrecker. Jeering at me. The friends I’d had faded into the background.’

  His hand was still on the back of her neck. Warm. Steady. Safe. ‘Your mother didn’t stick up for you?’

  ‘God, no. It was such a huge scandal she ran away to Spain to hide for a few weeks until the dust settled. But she met a guy there, so she prolonged her holiday. Then she got a job out there. Married. Divorced. Moved to a different city. Met a different guy. Moved. Met another. You get the pattern? I’ve lost count of how many step-brothers and step-sisters I’ve had over the years.’

  ‘You don’t see her.’

  ‘I got tired of waiting for her to come visit every Christmas. She’d promise but never follow through. Every year it was the same…I’d get all excited about seeing her and it inevitably ended in disappointment.’ Broken-hearted, she’d sit and wait until Gramps cajoled her to eat something, go to sleep.

  ‘You didn’t go over there?’

  ‘Once, I went for the Christmas holidays. Two weeks of hell. She’d got another new man and was playing doting mother to his daughters. I was just in the way. I lay awake in the bedroom I had to share with two step-sisters I didn't know and who clearly weren’t interested in this weird girl from England. And heard her arguing in the next room with step-dad number however-many-I-lost-count. Why did she have to come? Can’t she stay with her grandfather? Christmas Day was a nightmare, the guy couldn’t even be bothered to remember my name.’

  ‘Wow. I am so sorry.’

  It occurred to her that the pianist must have stopped playing a while ago but she hadn’t noticed. Apart from a very inconspicuous waiter, they were the only ones in the bar. Silence filled the room. Blake was lost in thought—no doubt planning his escape now he too realised how unlovable she was. But after a few minutes he looked at her and nodded.

  ‘Now I understand. I understand it all. Christmas must hurt you very much, with your Gramps dying and your mother’s betrayal. No wonder you hate it.’

  Not so much right now, though. This bar was decorated with tinsel and there was a Christmas tree in the corner and she was okay with it. Sad, but okay. ‘It’s just life, Blake.’

  ‘You’ve built up walls so high you don’t want anyone to get close to you. You tell yourself you don’t want relationships because you’ve been hurt, and I know you don’t want it to happen again, but you have to take risks.’

  ‘I know.’ But knowing and doing were two separate things.

  He cupped her cheek. ‘And I’m a risk. I get that.’

  ‘I want you, believe me.’

  His words were whispers in her ear, stroking, heating. ‘So have me. Have your wicked way with me. Again and again and again.’

  ‘And then?’ The sixty-four-million-dollar question. And then…heartbreak or happy ever after, or something in between? Although, she suspected she’d never find a middle ground with him. It had to be all or nothing.

  He winked. ‘And then I’ll have my wicked way with you…’

  ‘Blake Delacourte, is everything about sex with you?’ She laughed.

  ‘I try to make it so where you’re concerned.’

  It was enough. He was enough. It felt surreal to be sitting here in sheer luxury with this amazing man and being able to talk about the things that had shaped her. But her heart was so full of emotion and desire there wasn’t any room for sadness or hurt any more.

  It was as if the weight that had been pressing against her ribcage had melted away. She leaned to him and kissed him hard, her fingers fisting the fabric of his sweater.

  But the tension ramped up as his hands skirted beneath her layers, swirling circles over her belly, tantalisingly close to her breast, and she had to keep repeating public place in her head to stop herself from stripping her clothes off and doing the naked body heat thing.

  Suddenly, she felt as vibrant as she had in the park but a whole lot hotter. The need for him naked was reaching fever pitch. She tugged his hand to stand up. ‘Er…we need to go.’

  ‘Why wait? They have rooms here.’

  She almost laughed. ‘Rooms that cost an arm and a leg.’

  ‘You ever take a break? Treat yourself?’

  I wish. ‘All my money’s gone into the pub recently. I’m saving for a holiday and I definitely can’t afford this place no matter how much I’d love to stay. We could cycle back? Go to my house? What about yours?’

  ‘Faith, we could do a hundred different things, but if this is what you want, we’ll stay here.’

  Chapter 11

  Blake’s self-control was hanging by a thread as he slid the room’s key card through the lock. He didn’t know it was possible to want a woman so damned much.

  He watched the delight on her face as they walked into the suite, the wide eyes and smile. She ran to the huge picture window and looked at the strings of lights outside. Then inside at the plush velvet chairs, the walnut-trimmed furniture. Everything oozed luxury. ‘Oh my God, Blake, this is way beyond my expectations.’

  ‘It’d be better if you were naked, but I do see the appeal.’ She was dancing round the room checking out the decor, the glittering lights, the thousand-point cotton sheets. Smiling and dancing and laughing. It was infectious. And he could barely keep up. ‘Faith, have you never been in a hotel before or something?’

  ‘Of course I have. Plenty. I might have a sob story or two, Blake, but I do know how to holiday. But, wow, nothing like this.’ She was in the en suite now, fluffing her hair back into spikes after the snow had softened them. ‘Are these gold-plated taps?’

  ‘Maybe.’ All he knew was that he had a damned gold-plated hard—

  ‘Blake. Come in here.’ Her voice echoed off the bathroom tiles and interrupted his x-rated thoughts. The sound of running water had him smiling.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘I’m very okay.’ Her gaze locked onto his and everything he was thinking was written there in her eyes. Heat. Lust. Sex. More. So much more that connected with something deep inside him. She’d had a hard time, but still managed to be friendly and warm to her customers, to his family. No matter how much she fought it, she was a natural with people. She was funny. Bright. A fighter. And, right now, half naked.

  He gasped. Seemed he would never have enough of seeing her, never have enough of kissing her.

  She’d taken off her T-shirt and jeans. Her hand ran over the lace cup of her bra and he almost lost that flimsy self-control right then.

  It took exactly one nanosecond for him to relieve her of the rest of her clothes. Took maybe one more for her to remove his. Then he lifted her into the bath she’d run, sliding deep into deliciously warm water.

  ‘This way up, I think.’ She straddled him, her breasts inches from his mouth, and when she tipped her head back and laughed the light caught her skin. For a moment he was speechless. Breathless. He’d been attracted by fiery Faith, but tonight she was different. Since telling him about her mother she’d changed. This was a newer Faith, lighter somehow. Freed up. And he loved it.

  Loved her?

  Whoa. The idea blindsided him. No. He wasn’t that stupid to let another woman creep so far under his skin. Was he?

  Brad had told him to take a chance, not fall in love with her. Love. He tucked that thought away. No. No one fell in love in two weeks. No one.

  She leaned in close and nibbled quick kisses across his mouth. But he pulled her down and crushed his lips on hers, anchoring her against him, unable to satiate the need for her. She moaned his name and writhed against him. He gripped her bottom and held her still. One thrust and he’d be in her. ‘Wait, Faith. Condom.’

  Her lips were swollen from kissing, her eyes misted. ‘Oh. Yes. Now.’

  ‘No.’ His fingers slid inside her as he kissed her, breathing in her moans and sighs. Feeling her contract around him.

  Her fingers scraped along his jaw to his belly, and lower, and he bucked at her touch. She stroked him, slowly at first, then
with more intensity, and he knew if he didn’t grab his control he would lose it completely.

  He put his hand over hers. ‘Faith—’

  ‘I’m going to…please…I’m going to…Blake. That is…so good.’ The waves of her release stoked a fire in him and he grabbed his wallet from the floor and sheathed himself. She drove him wild. She drove him so close to that edge. So close he was going to fall.

  Slowly she lowered herself onto him and rocked hard and fast. Her eyes were open and fastened on his. Her hands fisted against his, her mouth hard against his as they bucked faster and ever deeper. And the thread that connected them tightened and tightened, until all he knew was her. All he wanted was her. His whole new world.

  Faith.

  ***

  Much later they lay between crisp white cotton sheets and watched the snow fall softly outside their window. The glass was thick and held in the heat, but couldn’t muffle all the sounds of traffic as the city started to wake up.

  Faith hadn’t had a wink of sleep and she didn’t care. His legs were heavy on hers, a good heavy, as he hugged against her and asked, ‘Hey, so what would you do for Christmas if you had a choice?’

  ‘Easy. I’d fly to somewhere exotic. I’d drink cocktails by the beach.’ Laughing at the memory of when they’d dressed the tree, she added, ‘And play rock music. Loud. You?’

  He caught her gaze. Kissed the tip of her nose. ‘This.’

  Wow. Her heart swelled and shaped to him. Every time she thought he couldn’t surprise her he did it even more.

  But he shrugged. ‘And instead, I have my family staying. But somehow we’ll do this too. Hey, maybe you should come over for lunch.’

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know…’ The thought of being with his family, celebrating together with all that glitter, gave her a sharp pain in the centre of her chest.

  ‘You have other plans? We could sort something out. You shouldn’t be on your own in there with all your memories.’

  He was talking about us and we. No matter what she dressed it up as, it wasn’t just a sex hook-up. It was sharing, connection, exploring each other in sensual and emotional ways. It was wonderful and scary in equal measure. Soon they’d get up and go back to their homes and carry on their lives. This night had been magical, but magic wasn’t real.