'Tis the Season: A Collection of Mimi's Christmas Books

by Mimi Barbour

  More. She wanted more. She angled her neck so he could roam her throat with lips that knew exactly how to tease and nip in the right places. He shuddered and scooped her even closer, which made breathing difficult, but who cared? Her heaving breasts craved his touch. In fact, the skin everywhere on her body yearned to feel his hands. His thumbs tweaked her nipples all the while he feverishly worked his lips from her ears to under her throat and then lower, pushing aside the cowl neck of her fuzzy sweater.

  The sneeze caught both of them unaware. So did the second one. Marcus, obliged to stop his petting, leaned back from her tight hold and rubbed at his itchy nose. Forced to return to earth, they finally became aware of the disturbance happening at the porch window.

  A big black dog stood there, growling and barking, the noise reaching crescendo proportions. By the time they paid him some attention, he’d begun to lunge at the glass, throwing himself at the window as if in a desperate attempt to get into the room.

  “I’m sorry, Marcus. That’s the dog that helped pull me through the large snowdrifts to get here. He’s still a pup, I think, and he must be homeless. I believe he’s under the impression that you’re hurting me. I’ll go and deal with him.”

  Bleary-eyed, Marcus straightened enough to set her free from his arms and made as if to stand. “I’ll go. If we don’t stop the bloody fool, he’ll come crashing through the glass. I’ll shoo him away, then, shall I?”

  Abbie pushed down on his shoulder. “No! Let me look after him. It’s terribly cold outside, and he’s freezing. Maybe we can let him in out of the cold, just for a little while.”

  “Absolutely not! Send him on his way. And then I’d better have some coffee. We need to talk, Abbie. My head is killing me, and to tell you the truth, I’m still not sure if I’m dreaming.”

  “Trust me, Marcus, I’m no dream. Look, luv, I’ll be right back after I take care of the dog, and I’ll make us some coffee. We’ll sort everything out.” Tenderly she added, “And we can carry on where we just left off. All right, then?”

  He nodded and sat back in his chair to glare at the nuisance still making a ruckus at the window. “Be quiet, you silly black bugger!” His hollering made her smile.

  As soon as she opened the door, the big pup stopped his nonsense and came to stand in front of her, his tail wagging ferociously. Watchful, assessing her reactions, he left some space between them. But when she went down on her knees to wrap her arms around his neck, he cried deep in his throat and moved in as close to her as he could get, his begging demeanour too much for her soft heart.

  “Poor baby, you’re frozen. And scared.” His trembling could have been from either condition, but somehow she sensed his fear and soothed him as best she could. “Come on, then, we’ll hide you in the kitchen until morning. At least you’ll have a warm place to sleep tonight, and some food, if we can scrounge some from their fridge.”

  She tiptoed past the doorway to the big room and made her way around the breakfast parlour to the kitchen beyond. The swinging door opened without a sound, and she led the big animal to a corner next to the stove, which she turned on in his honour. “You stay here.” She waited until he’d circled and then settled where her finger pointed. “You’ll be warm in no time.”

  At once, she turned on the flame under the coffee pot, organized the essentials, and then found a drawer with towels. Grabbing one in each hand, she bent over the sighing dog and cleaned as much of the snow off as she could, leaving his shiny black fur still damp but without the white crunchy stuff attached. His immense size somewhat disguised the fact that he was actually scrawny and underfed. The poor fellow hadn’t had a square meal for quite some time, she’d wager.

  Within minutes, she’d gotten everything under control. The fridge yielded a plateful of cooked roast beef and gravy, which she made into sandwiches, chopping up the unused remainder for the shiny-eyed, smiling dog. He seemed to inhale the lot rather than chewing each mouthful. Seeing his hunger prompted her to warm him some milk, and he soon devoured that, also. The biscuits in the cookie jar became his dessert, and he happily crunched away while she found a tray and filled it with hot drinks and food. Getting ready to return to Marcus, who was being very patient, she admonished her newfound friend.

  “You must stay in here. Lie down there by the stove.” She’d left the oven on warm, to make the room more comfortable. Stubbornly he tried to follow her, and that wouldn’t do at all.

  “Stay!” He looked away and ignored her.

  “Go on, lie down.” She pointed to his corner and waited until he reluctantly obeyed her order. “You must stay here until I come back.” Her glare seemed to work, as he grudgingly put his snout on his paws, raised his big brown eyes, and looked up at her submissively. “Good boy!”

  She used her shoulder to open the door and carried her loaded tray into the bright room where Marcus waited for her, only to find he wasn’t waiting at all. The silly man was fast asleep in his easy chair. “Well, for heaven’s sake.” She dumped the tray on the table in front of the sofa and went to glare down at him. In no time, though, her grumps disappeared, and she found herself smiling, instead. He looked so peaceful, as if he’d gotten the best news in the world and had gone to sleep thinking about how wonderful life is. She groaned and went to sit on the sofa.

  Alone, she sipped her coffee, ate half her sandwich, and watched him sleep. What a wonderfully handsome man. In his relaxed state, the muscles in his lean body were noticeable through the thin silk of his shirt. And she knew to her delight that when he held her in his arms they were gentle. His face in repose looked younger, especially with his normally controlled hair tousled with curls. How he’d ever managed to remain single, she’d never know.

  Leaning back while reflecting on her luck, soothed by the warmth of the fire, she gazed across at him, filling her mind with a list of his wonderful qualities. At last, sighing, she pulled the afghan from the back of the couch, covered herself, and drifted off.

  Abbie didn’t know whether it was the ferocious growling or the fierce swearing that woke her sometime later.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  What in the world? She pushed at the furry body blocking her view, but because of that body’s solid stance she’d have had more luck moving a Mack truck.

  “Stop it, puppy.” She swung her legs over the side of the sofa so she could sit up and deal with Marcus. An angry Marcus, whose hair stood on end and whose temper had apparently been ignited. That Marcus.

  “Puppy!?” he raged. “Have you seen the size of the ruddy monster?” Marcus stepped to the side so he could look into her face, then stopped immediately when “the puppy” growled warningly, revealing razor-sharp teeth in a menacing grin. The fur around his massive neck stood bristling and his front paws were braced to leap. “Where did he come from? More importantly, how the hell did he get into my house?”

  “Don’t you remember? Earlier, when I arrived, I told you about him saving my life. The blizzard made walking almost impossible, and if it hadn’t been for my mate here, I could have gotten lost in the storm, or at least in a snowdrift. Certainly, I’d have frozen to death.” As she spoke, her tone purposefully conciliatory, she petted the dog, whose demeanour instantly changed. His panting grin hid the sharp teeth, and his tail wagged, slapping at the side of the table and rattling the surprisingly now empty dishes on the tray.

  Thinking it safe, Marcus moved forward, only to be warned once again by a sideways but still vicious growl. “Did you see that?” He pointed at the animal once again standing guard.

  “Don’t be silly! You’re scaring him with your loud voice. He’s really a sweetheart.”

  Marcus lowered his voice. “A hungry sweetheart, and he’s staring at me like I’m breakfast.”

  Abbie giggled. Once she draped her arms around the mutt’s neck and caressed him behind his ears, his killer role disappeared, to be replaced by a goofy puppy grin. He licked her hands with adoration plainly stamped all over his intelligent face. “I’ve
no doubt he’ll need to use the outside facilities,” she told Marcus, who looked relieved. I’ll let him out, shall I, and be right back.”

  “Fine. You come back. Not him!”

  Ignoring the man, she swiftly rose and urged the dog to follow as she made her way to the front door. Once she opened it and heard the storm’s ongoing blast, she knew she’d be in trouble. Because there was no way in hell she could leave the animal to fend for himself. Not in the cold darkness and bitter weather.

  As soon as she opened the door, the pup had gone out, done his duty, and retuned to her side like a gentleman who didn’t want to keep his lady waiting. She whispered to him, “No noise, now. We’ll hide you in the kitchen again, but this time you must stay there, you hear me?”

  His low growling agreement made her smile. Turning sneakily, she saw Marcus leaning against the doorway, arms and legs crossed. Her smiles turned to giggles.

  “My mate here saved my life, Marcus. I can’t turn my back on him and put him out in this storm. You wouldn’t ask that of me, would you?”

  He grinned back and without a word, he cocked his eyebrow.

  “If he goes, I’ll have to go with him.”

  His sigh of acceptance had her stepping up to pat his cheek. “I’ll put him in the kitchen.”

  “I don’t believe the swinging door barricaded him the last time you hid him in there. I have a better idea. We need to talk, and I don’t want this big lug interrupting.” So saying, he quickly grabbed up the half-empty bottle of Drambuie and a couple of glasses in one hand and linked her fingers with his other. He led her up the curving staircase, and she meekly followed, the black furry shadow at their heels.

  When they got to his room, he opened the door just enough to steer her inside and then stepped in himself, closing the door quickly and leaving the distraught dog in the hallway. Satisfaction glowed in his eyes until he heard the animal complain.

  “Quiet,” he yelled, and peace reigned.

  Surprised and pleased, Abbie nodded to him purposefully. She hoped he registered her new friend’s intelligence. “See how smart he is?”

  Shrugging, Marcus turned on the floor lamp and went to start a fire in the grate. Then he moved two easy chairs close together near the warmth.

  Hang on here! She wasn’t about to settle in separate chairs when there was a perfectly good bed nearby. Not after what he’d started earlier. She wanted more, a lot more—she wanted it all. Purposefully she went over to the bed and folded down the brown coverlet, uncovering warm woollen blankets. She lay on her side, propped her head in her hand, and waited for him to notice her. Lurking humour resulted when she glimpsed his shock after turning from his chores.

  “Abbie, I do think it would be safer for us to sit closer to the fire. It’s much warmer here, you see?”

  “On the contrary, Marcus. I’d much rather lie here. We’d be a lot more comfortable. And we can keep each other warm.” That’s if I have anything to say about it. “Come.” She gestured and patted the bed next to her. “I have so many things to tell you.”

  The scent of the burning wood, one of her favourite smells, cozied the atmosphere, while the diffused light from the small lamp helped set the mood.

  Provoked, he moved slowly forward as if pulled by a force stronger than his own will. All of a sudden he stopped, turned back to the table where he’d left the bottle of liquor, and poured a shot glass full. In one swallow, it was empty. He motioned to her with the bottle, and she shook her head. Nervousness apparent, he returned the glass to the table and walked slowly toward the bed. Gingerly he sat, close to the edge, stiff as a board, not reclining or relaxing. His hands were tucked between his knees as if that was the only way he’d keep them from finding her.

  Well, that certainly wasn’t going to be allowed for very long, she decided. I’ll relax him with talk first. From their meeting earlier, she knew his armour could be easily breached with just a few words, an inviting look, or a flirtatious touch. Therefore, prolonging the inevitable only added to the anticipation.

  “What do you recall from when I first arrived?” She had to know if he remembered their kisses.

  His face guarded, he replied, “That we’re not related. And I do believe I asked you to marry me. You said yes, didn’t you?”

  “I did. And I meant it—if you want me?” She reached up to draw his face to hers. “A kiss would seal the deal.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Abbie. Aw, Sweetheart, if I touch you now, I’ll never be able to stop.” He groaned the last few words, which made her stomach flip-flop around inside and started her trembling. “Let’s go and sit by the fire.” He moved as if to pull away, but, before he could do so, she locked her arms tight around his neck and held him there.

  “Let’s not.” She rubbed her nose against his teasingly. “Don’t you want me?” She opened her eyes wide—innocent and imploring at the same time.

  “Like the dickens, Abbie. It’s killing me not to put my hands you.”

  “Then do so, you foolish man. Why do you think I’ve arranged for us to be on the bed? I want you to touch me, and kiss me, and make all those wild fantasies I’ve been suffering through lately come true.”

  “Sweetheart, you’ve just gotten out of the hospital. I wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of you.”

  “Well, that’s funny, because I’ve been dreaming of taking advantage of you all evening. Ever since I found out the truth about our relationship. And if you don’t soon do something about this, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

  Once his eyes began to glow, she knew she’d calmed his fears. His apprehensive smile turned seductive, and he shed the uncomfortable role of a man meek and mild for his normal one of control. “Darling girl, I adore you.” He stretched out beside her and, turning, put both hands on her cheeks and then sifted his fingers through the curls around her face. Closing in, he whispered, “I think we’ll have to do our talking later. You’ve only yourself to blame if I’ve decided I have better things to do with my mouth.” He lowered to kiss her eyes, her forehead, her cheeks, and then slowly trail his lips downward to fasten onto hers.

  She waited hungrily, watching him through slit eyes, loving the expression of adoration she could see on his face. Loving, also, the gentle thoughtfulness he revealed instead of being a macho bloke who only cared about his own needs.

  Like an explosion, their kiss turned from gentle to devouring in about the same amount of time as it took for them to catch a breath. He ate at her mouth as if he had a huge hunger to be assuaged, while every inch of her opened to his needs, her lips, her arms, and her ardour. Their tongues entwined, and she tasted the sweetness of the Drambuie he’d downed before coming to her. “Oh, Marcus.”

  Breathing erratically—harsh panting sounds that broke the silence—they cuddled as close together as possible. The feel of his hard body pushing against hers felt wonderful, and the intrinsic warning, that tonight she’d become a woman, didn’t faze her at all. Nothing did, except the feel of his hands travelling downward and pausing once they encountered the fuzz from her annoying sweater. Oh, God, don’t stop!

  She quickly leaned back and pulled it off, with his help. She watched his eyes widen and travel over her nakedness. Having young breasts, perky and full, ones that stood erect on their own, didn’t require a bra under a heavy sweater, and so she hadn’t worn one the day she’d gone to help the vicar.

  His eyes widened and darkened, the heat in them scalding. Spasms burst throughout her body, and relentless pulsations began to attack her stomach, while lower, puddles of delight flooded and readied her for his breach. He kissed her again, only this time his tongue made love to her mouth. Gasping, lightheaded from lack of air, she could have sworn her thinking processes totally shut down, leaving only her sense of touch, taste and hearing left. Her lover pulled back, and if his dazed expression was an indication of how he felt, they were in sync.

  Delighted, feeling sensuous, Abbie lay on her back, opening
herself to whatever he had in mind. She watched as his eyes travelled over her, followed by his hand. His tender ministrations satisfied her at first, but not for long. Seeing his absorption, she decided to move things along, and she began to work at undoing the buttons on his tucked-in shirt. She yanked at the last bit and got his attention. Within a few seconds, he had it off and thrown over the side of the bed. Now they were equal. Now she could play with his body while he got serious with hers.

  Both of them touched and kneaded, rubbed and kissed, until he broke and, snaking his hand around both of hers, he lifted them over her head while his mouth got serious with her nipples. He suckled and licked, his bites and kisses driving her crazy. Gasping with need, she arched her lower body against the hardness of his, pushing and rubbing, her desires apparent.

  Whatever she’d done, she’d done it right. He kept her hands in one of his and snuck the other under the hem of her short miniskirt. Unfortunately her tights, form-fitting to the waist, impeded his progress. Frustration apparent, he released her hands and pulled and tugged at them.

  With little luck.

  Urgency finally propelled them both to work at getting the appropriately named apparel off her, and finally, with her muffling her chuckles and him biting off bad language, they lowered them enough that with one hard pull, he stripped them off and flung them across the room.

  “Silly things women wear.”

  “They show off my legs.”

  “And, I must say, you do have beautiful legs to show off.”

  “I’m glad they make you happy.”

  “Darling, everything about you makes me happy. Now, where were we?” He resumed kissing her, and while his hands continued their searching caresses, she melted. His fingers found her sensitive area, the spot that transformed women into captives of lust, and the wetness, an obvious turn on, had him groaning his pleasure. He massaged her and drove her to the brink.

  Delight with these ministrations echoed in her voice, and as soon as he inserted his finger, she broke. Waves of sensation powered her excitement, making her tremble and jerk spasmodically. As she rode the feeling, she cried out her pleasure. “Marcus! Ohh!”