This Christmas (Holiday Hunk Book 2)

by Sarah Spade

  “You ready, baby?”

  She buries her face in my neck. I hesitate, since that wasn’t really any kind of answer, and then she nibbles down on the cord in my neck.

  I almost come from the feel of her teeth against my skin.

  There’s no going back for either of us. I reach down, running my finger through her folds. She’s soaking wet. The tip of my finger slips inside of her easily. I test it, thrusting in and out of her, then add a second finger to check that she’s ready for my throbbing cock.

  When Allison starts bucking against my fingers, I know she is.

  I pull my fingers out of her pussy, replacing them with the tip of my cock. There’s barely any resistance at all as she sinks all the way down on my length. She groans again, the heat of her breath against my neck revving me up even more.

  Her back against the pillow, her ass in my hands, I lift her up off of my cock before letting her slam back down. I do this again and again until we have a fast, frantic rhythm going.

  This first fuck needs to be about connection. Her arms are wrapped around me, my cock buried to the hilt inside of her, her teeth still nibbling on my skin. I don’t know where she begins or where I end as I piston my hips up inside of her and she lets out a gasp.

  The pillow is slipping and, as light as she is in my arms, I’m starting to tire. I can feel my balls drawing up tight, ready to explode.

  First, though, I have to make Allison come. Letting go of one ass cheek, I slip my hand between us and pluck at her clit.

  “Harder,” she whispers, and I obey.

  A heartbeat later, I can feel her core tightening around me. The orgasm rolls right through her and though I know she’s probably pretty oversensitized already, I pinch her clit and thrust even faster, demanding a second climax from her.

  When that one hits, she screams.

  I almost do, too.

  I’m not in control. I haven’t been since the moment I walked out of Dani’s bedroom and found Allison standing in the living room.

  Nothing could have stopped what happened next.

  I’ve never been the guy who went all in with dirty talk as I’m fucking. That hasn’t changed. Fucking isn’t about words—it’s about the act, as primal as it is sexual. The slap of skin against each other, the grunts, the moans… those are all I want to hear when I’m having really good sex.

  With Allison, her soft pants, her groans, the way she whispers my name over and over again, it’s music to my ears.

  There’s no point in dirty talk. Not for me. But when there’s that connection that goes past the physical, where I stupidly let my heart get involved, I inevitably find myself coming up with some words of my own.

  They’re not dirty. They’re just the God’s honest truth.

  In the heat of the moment, when all I want to do is keep thrusting away, never leaving the warmth of Allison’s tight pussy, the grunts and the growl rips out of my throat as I make my fucking oath to this woman I want more than my next breath.

  Grasping her hips, pulling her flush against me, skin to skin as my orgasm comes crashing over my head, I snarl, “You’re mine.”

  My cum spurts out of me, filling the condom as she gasps at the pressure I’m putting on her clit. Even though she’s already come twice, I know she’s got a least one more in her before I let her catch her breath.

  I reach between our bodies again, attacking the nub with my thumb, rubbing it with as much force as I dare. I can feel her legs start to quiver around me and I press a little harder. Her head is thrown back up against the edge of the pillow and her eyes widen, like the orgasm comes as a surprise, and she exhales so softly, so sweetly, my heart seems to tighten.

  I can’t stop myself. The words spill out of me on a sigh of my own as I lay my chin on her shoulder and shake.

  “Oh, Allison, I fucking love you.”

  Chapter 10

  Allison

  I can’t believe that just happened.

  And at least three times, too. Maybe four. I kinda lost count.

  After hours of kissing, licking, stroking and, well, fucking, Max is lying curled up next to me, his leg thrown over mine and his hand grabbing my naked hip possessively.

  He’s still a bed hog.

  I thought he was finally done with me about an hour ago. We both fell asleep, but then I woke up to find him licking me to another, countless orgasm. After I finished, he nudged me over so that he could lie next to me again.

  There were still a couple of condoms left on his strip—I’m amazed that he thought to bring so many, or that he was so confident he’d need any at all—but he told me I’d milked him dry. He still wanted a few more minutes to recover, but he woke up to go to the bathroom, had the urge to eat me out, and did.

  While he was waiting to get hard again, Max yawned, closed his eyes, and fell back to sleep. He’s snoring now, hogging my bed, keeping me close.

  My legs are still quivering from that last round of aftershocks. Between the earth-shaking orgasms he gave me from all of the times he entered me, plus the absolutely amazing oral, I should be as comatose as Max is. At the very least, I should be loose and limber, stretching out beneath his weight like a lazy cat.

  Yeah. No.

  I feel my whole body thrumming. I’m tense, as stiff as a board, and everywhere he touches my bare skin is like a brand. The heat sears me, and I shiver.

  I just… I can’t believe all that happened.

  I thought we’d have sex, he’d get his release, and he’d maybe give me a kiss before climbing out of my bed and going back to Dani’s apartment. Even if my parents were planning on staying at the Pearsons’ overnight, I didn’t think he’d want to spend the night with me.

  A year is a long time to hold onto a perception, right or wrong. I spent the last year believing that “Nick” thought of me as an easy lay. Max might’ve told me that he had a real reason to leave, and maybe he’s telling the truth, but I spent half the time his body was on top of mine waiting for the moment when he would leave.

  And then he—

  He said—

  Oh, crap. I could write off the possessive, caveman-like claims of you’re mine as something Max said in the heat of the moment, right when he was getting ready to come. He did it last time, after all.

  But the other thing?

  The only way I could allow myself to fall asleep after that was to convince myself I was hearing things. There was no way he said what I thought he said, so he didn’t say it. I’ve grown to be an expert at denial. Add that to the fact that he tired me out with his endurance and stamina and I just about passed out after he came inside of me that last time.

  By the time he was removing the condom and disposing of it, I was completely out.

  Then Max woke me up with another mind-blowing orgasm. Maybe mind-clearing is a better way to describe it, though, because as I lay here, trying to will strength back into my shaky legs, I hear his grunt, followed by his gruff words, as if he’s said them again.

  Oh, Allison, I fucking love you.

  Not I love fucking you. I know what I heard, even if I want to pretend that I don’t.

  I fucking love you.

  How did this happen?

  It was supposed to be just sex. That’s what he said. And since I wanted him, and I wanted to find a way to thank him, I let him have it.

  First on the wall, which was so amazing, I don’t have words for what happened there. I’m still touched at how he thought to grab a pillow to protect my back as he pounded into me.

  Hot? That’s an understatement.

  Because that… that was sex. Even when he laid me down on the mattress, climbed on top of me, and made sweet love to me in between leisurely touches and tender kisses, it was still sex.

  And that’s my biggest problem. I think of it as making love. Max? I don’t know what he’s thinking.

  I’m not sure either of us really are, actually.

  Regardless, it was never about just sex for me. I might not have wanted
to admit it, not even to myself, but I think I’ve been a little bit in love with Max Dennis even back when I thought he was a stranger called Nick who, like me, was lonely on Christmas Eve.

  Add that face, that body, the sex, and his willingness to help me to everything else I know about him from Dani, from my job, from what I saw at dinner tonight?

  I… I’m definitely more than a little bit in love with him.

  And I’m absolutely terrified that he only said the words because he thought I wanted to hear them from my fake boyfriend.

  It takes me close to fifteen minutes to extricate myself from his hold. I remove the hand on my hip first, then shimmy out from underneath his heavy leg. Max almost wakes up once and I freeze, heart in my throat, but he snuffles, snores, and clutches the pillow I slipped behind me to take my spot.

  “Mmm, Allison,” he murmurs.

  There’s a small smile on his handsome face as he snuggles my pillow. For a second, I think about staying, being there in the morning, maybe getting the nerve to find out how Max really feels.

  The second passes real quick.

  Last Christmas, Mary was bold.

  This Christmas? Allison is afraid.

  So very afraid.

  Afraid that she could easily let herself love this man. And afraid that, after all, it really is just sex to him.

  With a soft apology, barely audible since I don’t want to risk waking him, I snag my panties from the floor, grab a dress from my closet, and leave him alone in my bedroom.

  It’s better safe than sorry.

  Max

  Well. Now I know how Allison felt when she woke up in an empty bed.

  Except, of course, for one very noticeable difference. She didn’t lose it as she came and blurt out that she loved me.

  Did I really fucking do that?

  It doesn’t take long for me to realize that she’s gone. When I wake up, cozying up to a pillow instead of the gorgeous blonde I fell asleep next to, I know what’s she done.

  I don’t call Dani because I don’t want to involve her anymore than I already have. As I gather my clothes, hoping against hope that her parents are still at their friends’ house, I put a call into the Salem branch of our business.

  It doesn’t take long to discover where Allison is, either.

  She went to work. Three hours early—though I already learned that’s par for the course with her—and she’s at her desk instead of in bed with me.

  I have to admire it. In a way, she only did exactly what I did last year. Leaving without a goodbye or a note, putting work before everything else. And since it dawns on me that I still haven’t gotten her real number, it’s not like I can call her and try to find out what’s going on in that head of hers.

  Was it just sex for her after all? I’m beginning to think so.

  Shit.

  I really wanted to change her mind. Last night, while we were in the throes, I had these grand ideas of what it would be like it we really were together. I could be her boyfriend for real, and we could go to bed together without any pretenses or challenges between us.

  One thing I learned a long time ago? You can work hard, not let anything distract you, do whatever you can—and sometimes life throws you a fucking curve you can’t hit.

  Once I’m sitting inside my rental car, I let out a sigh of relief. Navigating Allison’s condo on the way out was like a minefield. I could hear her mother and father eating breakfast in the kitchen. The scent of coffee was rich in the air. I waited until I was outside to put my dress shoes back on, stepping into them before stalking over to the car.

  Bad enough I had to do the walk of shame. If I could avoid the Shaws while I did it, knowing their daughter ditched me? Yeah, I hauled ass out of there.

  I rest my forehead against my steering wheel, wishing I had a hit of their coffee right about now. Pushing my caffeine addiction to the side for a second, I focus on what’s important.

  What the hell am I supposed to do now?

  It kills me that my immediate reaction is to tuck my tail between my legs and go back to Palo Alto.

  And why not? Dani doesn’t need me here. Zack—he’s alright. Didn’t I come here to check him out, make sure he was good enough for my sister? I guess he gets a pass. I mean, no one will ever be good enough for Dani, but if he’s what I got to look forward to as a brother-in-law?

  It could be worse.

  Zack could love her and find that he screwed up any chance he had with her before he even realized it.

  Damn it.

  I can’t bring myself to go through security yet. Shit, I haven’t even gone up to one of the ticket brokers to find out about swapping my ticket.

  Even though Christmas Eve isn’t for another week and a half, here I am, sitting alone at a bar, cursing the airport. It’s not closed because of snow; worse, it’s open and, once I stop moping, it’s going to take me out of and away from Massachusetts.

  It seemed like a good idea when I was packing up. With Dani at work and Zack out searching for a gift for her, Salem was the only one who watched me gather my crap and throw it in my suitcase. I never would’ve thought a cat could look so judgmental until I met my sister’s cat. The way he cocked his furry little head, watching me as if knowing I was making a mistake, had me second-guessing my plan to get an earlier flight.

  Since I’m still pissed at the little turd for running away that night, I ignore him as I fire a quick text off to Dani and leave her apartment. The way I see it, if Salem hadn’t run away, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to explain to Allison what really happened last Christmas—and then maybe I wouldn't have convinced myself that she could forgive me.

  Or that she even cared in the first place.

  I flag down the bartender. I gesture to my glass. “Another rum and Coke over here.”

  “Getting ready for your trip?”

  I feel the shift in space as the heavy-set man arranges himself on the stool beside me. He’s older, with a cap of white hair and a matching mustache and beard, and I’m curious if the stool will hold his weight considering how big his belly is. He rests one hand on it, the other lying flat on the counter as if supporting himself.

  “Excuse me?”

  The bearded stranger nods at the tumbler in front of me. “I know liquid courage when I see it, son. You don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to flying. I’ve been flying my whole life—you wouldn’t believe how many miles I’ve logged. You’ll be fine.”

  Scoffing, I say, “I’m not worried about flying.”

  “Oh? Then what are you worried about?”

  I open my mouth, think better of the rude retort that nearly escapes, then shrug. It’s Christmas and this Santa Claus-lookalike is just being friendly. It’s not his fault that I’m in such a foul mood.

  “Who says I’m worried about anything?”

  The bartender brings me my drink and, without prompting, places—is that a glass of milk? It looks like it, I think, except maybe it’s eggnog or something. I don’t know. The bartender definitely sets a glass of some white liquid in front of the bearded man.

  He jerks his head at me. “Put his drinks on my tab, too. Okay, Billy?”

  As the bartender nods, the bearded stranger takes his hand off the counter, extending it toward me. “Name’s Kris.”

  His grip is surprisingly strong as we shake. “Max.”

  “I know.”

  Kris has got these dark eyes, as black as coal, but they’re not dull. Maybe it’s the fluorescent lights in the bar making them shine, I don’t know. I’m so mesmerized by them that it barely registers that he says he knows who I am.

  A second later, I realize I used my real name.

  I never do that.

  Oh, well. Can’t take it back now, and he already admitted he knows who I am. Plus, he bought my drink. If he knows who I am, then he knows I can afford my own damn drink.

  This just got very interesting.

  Chapter 11

  Allison

&nbs
p; Salem is known for Halloween. The town is absolutely insane from the end of August through the beginning of November, with tourists straggling in year-round to see all of the attractions.

  I love Halloween. I really do. It’s hard to grow up in Salem and not let it have a piece of your heart, no matter how irritating the tourist season can be at times. But Christmas? It always was my favorite time of year.

  Until last Christmas.

  The office decorations are annoying. The maintenance crew is in charge of decorating the outside of the building and all of the halls, while each individual worker is responsible for their offices or cubicles. Mine is one of the only ones that haven’t been touched. I find solace in that as I retreat to my office, prepared to work off my anxiety.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to work. Especially now that I know that Max is the boss. He could walk in here any minute and no one would question his right to be there. But since I’ve always thrown myself into work rather than face any of life’s unpleasantness, it’s what I do after I sneak out of my condo.

  I regret it all morning. Dani shows up a few minutes before nine, just on time for the actual beginning of our shift, and I’ve been in the office for three hours already. I’m still on the first account I started working on.

  All day my stomach is tied in knots. When Dani asks me if I want to go out for lunch with her, I’m sure I turn green. I’m not hungry. So I make up a story about being behind after losing a day of work earlier in the week. She laughs, points out she was out for two days, and decides to order sandwiches in.

  She leaves a tuna wrap on my desk and promises we’ll catch up later. Since I know that she wants to ask me about Max, I’m desperate to avoid that chat. There’s no way she’s not aware that he didn’t return to her apartment last night. She’s gotta guess he came home with me.