No answer from Andi, but at least she’s stopped crying. I grab half a cup of coffee, fill the rest with cocoa and walk over to see how she’s doing again.
She’s drained her mug of tea and set it aside, burrowing so deep down into the blankets that she looks like a pile of bedding with a face. “How you feeling?” I ask her softly, wondering if I should be encouraged or worried by her sudden quiet.
She blinks up at me, and then says softly, “It’s only a little better.”
I check my watch. “A little is better than nothing. We’ve only been up here ten minutes.” I told myself I’d give it twenty more before I really need to worry, and it hasn’t been that long. Maybe it will be okay.
“I’m not leaving you alone until I know you’re all right and don’t need a hospital,” I say firmly. “I know we’ve had a rough time being in such close quarters for so long, but this is too important. We’ll both just have to deal with it.”
I don’t just mean the mess with Gabby, or the mess with Jack, or the sexual tension between us—which I know she’s been feeling, too. Those are concerns, though now is really not the time to think about it.
It’s hard to get out of my head, though. Through the door separating our rooms, I’ve heard her moaning at night. I even heard her cry out my name—and that was sweet hell to listen to.
I’m putting it all aside. Sexual tension and relationship problems can wait. The squabble that drove us out into the cold seems pointless and silly now. “Okay?”
She nods and then her face crumples. “Thank you.”
I want to hug her so badly that my hands flex at my sides, but I force myself to simply smile. I drag over a chair, so I can sit next to her. “No problem.”
I miss the feel of her in my arms so fiercely right now that I can barely stand it. But all I can do is care for her in the ways that she will allow.
She’s the one who set the boundaries. It’s up to her whether to take them down or not. I wish I had understood that better back when we were together.
It’s yet another thing that I wish I could show her. That I’ve changed. That I’m not that same kid I was then, the one who disappointed her so much.
Hell, I think we’ve both figured out by now that it’s almost impossible to keep a relationship together in any real way when your prefrontal lobe hasn’t even finished forming. If I had realized that back then, I would have waited years before even trying to get with her.
I still hope I can. I know it’s stupid of me to camp at her gates like this. I’ve done everything I can to hide it. But I’m the kind of guy who can’t hide anything for shit.
“You know, if Jack can get us that interview, that’s all we have left to do, and maybe monitoring the mistletoe on the fifth.” I try to distract her from her discomfort and fear by talking like the future beyond her current reality is a foregone conclusion. “Then we can just go home.”
She seems to have thawed out enough to at least talk shop a little, but it takes her a minute. “Do you think anyone will mess with the deer cams if we put them up around town?”
“Not if we get permission from the shopkeepers. If this follows the pattern we expected,” I see Andi reach for her mug, and I get up to fill it with more tea, “then we will see all the mistletoe either disappear or be taken down between sundown and sunup on the last of the Twelve Days.”
“The fifth.” She frowns hazily, then sighs at herself and nods.
“Exactly.” I bring it back to her and our fingers brush. Hers are still cold. I frown as I feel them barely close around the warm mug, and gently wrap my hands around her own to help her grasp it. “Come on, sweetheart, you can do this. Don’t spill.”
“If I keep putting more fluid in me I’ll end up freezing to death on the toilet,” she chatters out, and then lets out a high, nervous giggle. “Especially with all the caffeine.”
“One of the reasons I switched to decaf,” I joke in a dry tone, and she lets out a tiny laugh that sounds like a sob. “But I can’t have you pissing icicles. We’ve got to warm you up a little first.”
She covers her face with her hands, and her shoulders shake. I hold the mug for her until she calms down and help her sip at it. She takes her time, and I wonder if her burned tongue is finally starting to hurt or if she’s too numb still to feel it.
“There you go,” I say when the mug is dry. I set it aside and lean over to catch her eye. “Are you thawing out?”
She takes a deep breath—and then starts to shiver again, wrapping her arms around herself. “I still can’t get warm,” she whimpers.
It’s been twenty-five minutes. She seems a little better, and she’s begging me not to go to the hospital. But I’m so alarmed by how pale and cold and shivery she is, even with blankets bundled and heat applied, that I’m still half tempted to carry her down to the car. If I do that, though, she’ll probably never forgive me.
Shit.
“Well, look. I only have one other thing I can try, but I’m afraid you’ll throw pillows at me when you recover.”
I shouldn’t even be thinking about this. It’s a stupid idea. But it’s pretty much always recommended in situations like this: body heat.
With as few clothes as possible.
“What are you gonna do?” she mumbles, her eyes alarmingly dull.
That expression on her face decides it for me. I start unbuckling my belt.
7
Andi
Whoa, hey wait a minute. The chill that has permeated my body leaves me hazy, but I’m not so far out of it to not feel the shock when David starts shucking off his jeans.
I see red wool flannel underneath, and then he stretches up and strips off his sweaters and shirt as well. Standing there in his bright red long johns, he’s a weird mix of sexy and ridiculous, which perfectly fits the sudden strip-down. “The fuck?” I mumble.
Are we boning for warmth now? I have to pause a moment to sort out how I feel about that. My emotions are mixed, to say the least. I never stopped feeling that spark of attraction, but I never stopped feeling the wariness and frustration either.
I decide to hold off on getting annoyed until I know what the hell is actually up. Meanwhile, my gaze is taking a walk up and down his body before I even realize it.
He’s filled out a little since our days together, in a nice, defined way that makes the flannel stretch flatteringly over his limbs and chest. I wonder if his hipbones would still end up leaving bruises on my thighs. Then I tear my mind out of the gutter as fast as I find it there. Shit.
He grins awkwardly. “Uh, well, the only way I have left to help you warm up is me. Unless you feel that having me sink you in a hot bath might do the trick.” His voice is so gentle, his eyes worried. I know that we would probably already be halfway to the hospital by now if he had his way.
I’m glad that he hasn’t pushed the issue yet. “And that means that I spend the next couple hours…”
“Naked and wet in front of me. Yeah. Awkward.” Did the crotch of his ridiculous underwear just gain some volume at the thought? I’m too numb to smile or blush right now.
“Yeah, that’s g-gonna be too awkward. Let’s...let’s try this instead,” I stammer, my whole body aching from shivering so long.
This has to work. And really, I’ll take a cuddle right now—gladly. My muscles hurt, my joints hurt, and my skin stings from the contrast between the warm environment and the cold that seems to have seeped into my bones.
I started getting cold after Jack kissed me, I realize. But that has to be a coincidence. It’s not like his lips—which weren’t particularly cold—had somehow given me hypothermia. The kiss just came so soon after I went outside that I somehow connected the two events in my head.
Everything that David has done for me has helped a little, enough that I’m not quite so scared or cold any more. But as he takes hold of the covers to slip into the spot beside me for the first time in years, my stomach flips over nervously.
He lifts the edge of the c
overs and climbs in next to me—a welcome presence that I have to pretend to only tolerate. But then I realize I can't simply tolerate it. The moment his leg brushes against mine, the warmth of his body starts to sink into me…and stays.
I let out a gasp and cuddle against him at once, jamming my cheek against his shoulder. It’s not my imagination. Oh holy crap. I close my eyes, basking in the heat coming off of his sleek, hard body even through the flannel.
“Whoa, hey,” he laughs awkwardly as he gets settled, wrapping the bedding around us both and then looping an arm around my shoulders. The warmth coming off of him feels similar to when he turned on the mattress pad, but the heat sinks in more deeply, and it doesn’t feel like it’s fading away faster than it gets to me.
“Don’t make fun. You’re warm,” I complain, though I’m starting to notice an ache inside me that has nothing to do with the cold. I missed cuddling with him.
For all the flaws in our relationship, he was always loved to cuddle, and I liked it, too. Now I remember how good it feels to have his long limbs wrapped around me, and his cheek against the top of my head. My eyes clench further shut, as if I can use pressure alone to keep the sudden, wistful tears from escaping.
He’s gone very quiet. I can feel his heart beating fast against my hand. His chest heaves; his breath shivers. I have no doubt that if I slid my hand about two feet south, I’d feel his pulse pounding hard somewhere else, too.
I shouldn’t be thinking about David’s cock. He’s got a really nice one—big and thick, always promising more satisfaction than it ever gave me. But really, like the rest of him, it’s not my business anymore.
There came a time when signs of his affection or arousal put me on edge instead of enticing or exciting me. They told me of his expectations, while warning me as well that my own would probably not be met. At that time, I started to tense up whenever I saw the signs, knowing that, at best, I’d have to put up with more awkward sex, or at worst, we’d end up arguing.
Now, though, as I lean against him and soak up his warmth, my eyes closed, I feel the tremors inside of me go still and my muscles slowly unlock. “Oh my God,” I mumble.
“Any better?” He sounds hopeful—and a little breathless. His grip tightens around me, and another wave of warmth runs through my body.
“Yes,” I gasp, more surprised than anything. “You were right about this one, okay? You can make fun of me later.” I look into his eyes briefly and tighten my grip on him. I feel him squirm happily, his heartbeat picking up again.
I’m trying not to let it get to me. He’s probably saving my life right now—or at least saving me from a night in my least favorite place in the world. But I know that the circle of his arms is dangerous territory for me.
Still, I’m not going to complain. Not one bit. Not even if I end up having to fight the whole night to ignore how much I’m enjoying this.
He reaches over and folds his hands around one of mine, touching me experimentally. A thoughtful look deepens on his face even as a shiver goes through him. “It’s working,” he sighs finally, but makes no move to let my hand go.
I don’t let his go either. I lean my head against his chest instead and close my eyes as his heartbeat slowly evens out. I know he has to be wishing we were doing more than just cuddling; there’s part of me that wishes that, too, which is why it’s dangerous.
“Sorry about this,” I sigh as feeling comes prickling back uncomfortably into my fingers and toes. “I know you want to get out of here, and here we are spending an extra day because my ass got a chill.”
“Well, the mistletoe phenomenon will end when it ends, regardless. I can put the damn deer cams up myself if I have to.” He’s stroking my hair. He’s not supposed to do that. And I’m not supposed to be leaning into it, eyes half-closed like a contented cat.
But here we are.
“We’ll catch whatever there is to catch on them the night of the fifth, and then move the hell on the next day, regardless. Our Phoenician Father Christmas can talk to you over the phone if he can’t see you before you feel better.” His tone is firm but calm, and I sigh through my nose and simply nod my agreement.
“How are you feeling now?” he asks me as he keeps petting me. I should protest. I should definitely complain.
I stretch against him, feeling a shiver go through him that has nothing to do with cold. I smile against his chest, feeling powerful and strangely calm about it. I still get to decide how far this goes.
There’s something about that that is so satisfying—and tempting as well. We could stay here cuddling all day if I want, and he’ll be happy to do it. Or we could do…more. And I know David would be happy to do that.
No pressure. None. It’s all up to me.
“This is nice,” I murmur wholeheartedly.
He goes very still for a little while as he digests this. Then he smiles a little. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I stifle a yawn. Now that I’m not sitting there shivering from both my dropping temperature and my fear of a looming hospital visit, I’m absolutely drained of energy. The caffeine from the drinks isn’t even touching me.
My muscles ache. My body, warm again, has gone slack from loss of tension. My joints pop as my body settles. I can’t keep my eyes open.
“Dunno if I’ll be conscious long, but I’m not feeling like I’m gonna freeze any more. I’m exhausted though.” What the hell even was that? And why was it that only David’s touch could fix me?
I stifle a yawn as his lean hand slips down to cup my cheek experimentally. His skin feels slightly cool now, instead of burning hot. “Okay, well, you’re warm again. But I think I’d better stick around for a while.”
I should argue. But I know he’s not pushing the issue so much as he’s enduring the situation and forcing himself to hold me and go no further. It would make me feel guilty…but how many times have I wished he would show some self-control?
He’s showing it now, and it fascinates me. If I wasn’t so damned worn out, I just might want to test his resolve. Or maybe give him permission to give in. “Thank you,” I mumble finally, as I slip gently off to sleep.
The Christmas snowstorm never ended. The snow just kept piling up outside, until now. I can see the tops of the drifts level with the second-floor window. We’re trapped.
The lights are on. The room is warm. There’s food downstairs. The water runs. We’re safe—but we’re not going anywhere.
And neither one of us cares right now. We’re tangled up, kissing.
Time blurs past with the easy cross-fade of a movie. No awkwardness. No talking.
I’m pinning him down, despite his superior size and strength. Maybe he’s letting me, but it doesn’t matter. In the end, I’m driving.
And somehow, we’re both loving it.
He can’t speak anymore. His whole body is taut under me, muscles tight, the cords in his neck standing out as he throws his head back. Small grunts of pleasure escape him as I ride his rigid cock, setting the pace.
“Hold still,” I order him, bearing down on him from above as my thighs straddle his hips. “Don’t push. Don’t you dare bust yet.”
He stares up at me in fascination, his broad chest heaving, his eyes glazed in shock, and his body beaded with sweat. I’ve been riding him long enough that my knees crack. I barely notice the pain over the burning ache of need between my thighs.
His back arches, and he strains under me, his body fighting his will as he starts to tremble and pant. “Not yet,” I whisper in his ear, and his breath grows harsher, the restraint exciting him perversely.
I feel the airy, floating heat between my thighs, a sense of generic euphoria expanding there in the absence of a climax. Dreams come from memories, after all, and I have no memory of orgasm. I just hear myself gasping “Yes...yes!” as poor David starts to go wild under me.
I grind away roughly on him, blissed out as he grunts and lets out deep, sharp cries. It almost sounds like he’s in pain, as if I’m stabbing him with e
very thrust. I feel his back arch under me…and I pop awake into my brightly lit room at the bed and breakfast.
Shit.
It takes me a few moments to get my bearings. My whole body is tingly and warm now, misted with sweat under my long johns. The terrifying cold is a fading memory.
The feel of David’s cock inside of me as I ride him stays sharp in my mind as I catch my breath.
I can feel fabric stretched against my fingertips and realize that I've dug my nails into the flannel covering David's forearm. My lungs burn as I pant for air like I've just run a marathon. He’s relaxed, even with me curled against his side, and he blinks awake drowsily, apparently not noticing my almost bruising grip as I relax it.
“You okay?” he murmurs drowsily, not even really focused on me yet. “Think you called out in your sleep.”
“Yeah...yeah,” I murmur as I lift my head to look him in the face. “Good dreams. Bad timing, but good dreams.” Sort of. I liked them, but I can’t do anything about them.
He grins drowsily. “Oh really?”
“Oh yeah.” I shift my weight—and feel my body start to wake up as well. Tingling, I lift my head from his chest and lean back to look at him.
Our eyes meet. He strokes his hand back over my braid, and then cups the back of my skull and leans down to kiss me.
We’re both half awake. Our lips brush and a delightful tremor runs all the way through me. I whimper softly—and do my best not to chase his lips as he moves away.
“S-sorry,” he murmurs. “I...”
My head feels too light. The room seems to rock a little, like a cabin on a yacht. “I need to get up,” I mutter, and he nods, backing off a little more.
He helps me to the bathroom and I shut myself in, heart banging away in my chest.
Fuck.
8
David
I ended up being saved by the bell—or rather, by the Tubular Bells ringtone of my phone telling me that someone related to the current case was calling. It was Jack with an invitation to an early supper later today with himself, his father, and some guests. If, of course, Andi was feeling well enough.
A Kiss of Winter: A Second Chance Christmas Romance (Dreams Fulfilled Book 3) Page 5
