The Christmas Match: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance

by Burton, Allie

  She placed a hand over his mouth. The contact shocked him into silence.

  “Time to go to your room.” Her reasonable tone pissed him off more.

  How dare she tell him what to do? “Fine.” If he was going to his room, he was taking her with him.

  Standing, he grabbed her wrist clumsily. He’d already proved to her he wasn’t good father material by getting drunk. Although the medication definitely speeded up the process. Anger at himself collided with anger at her, two skiers charging straight ahead and crashing.

  “I think you can find your room on your own.” She tried to slip her wrist from his hand without calling attention to herself. “I just finished my shift and need to get home.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “After you’ve calmed down.” Her gaze darted around. She was afraid someone would hear them. She’d stopped him from accusing her of sleeping with Williamson in front of the bar patrons.

  “We can talk here and now and loud.” Luke let his voice get higher and higher. “Or you can come with me to my room and we can talk in private.”

  She peered around again. “I’ll make coffee in your room and then I’m gone.”

  He stumbled toward the elevators, dragging her along. He didn’t care she ran on those ridiculous high heels with long legs under a slim skirt. He had to find out the truth about what was going on between her and Williamson.

  He dropped his key card twice, before she took it from him and inserted it into the lock. The door opened and he tripped inside. His head was clearer than his body acted. The medication must have a different effect.

  “I’ll start the coffee.” She sashayed toward the bar area, her butt wiggling back and forth under the slim skirt. Her beautiful, efficient hand plugged in the coffeemaker.

  Hands that had made him go wild in his youth. Touching him in places he’d never been touched, bringing him to a torturous ecstasy.

  He wanted that again. Now.

  Lust roared through his bloodstream, pulsing and pounding and pinching every nerve in his body. He felt like a caveman, wanting to throw her on the bed and have his way with her. Fisting his hands, he held himself back. He refused to show her how much she affected him. Refused to give her that kind of power.

  She turned the machine on and pivoted to face him. Her glare of condemnation stoked his lust and the anger.

  “Why are you here with me?” The possibly washed-up professional skier compared to the local rich boy.

  Her lips pinched together. “You became a bit unruly in the bar and part of my job is to make sure the guests are happy.”

  Well, he wasn’t happy. Not happy at all when he saw her making out with Williamson. “How are you going to make me happy?” He added suggestiveness to his tone.

  “I wasn’t worried about you being happy.” She tutted in shame. “I was worried about our other guests in the pub.”

  Anger overpowered lust. He pressed his feet into the thick carpet, trying to control his actions. She cared about the other guests more than him. She worried about town gossip, which was the only reason why she’d agreed to pretend date him while at the same time fooling around with Williamson. “If we’re going to pretend to date, shouldn’t you do a better job of that?”

  * * *

  The coffeepot boiled, similar to Danielle’s temper. Luke didn’t think she was doing a good job of pretend dating. The boiling bubbles steamed in her veins. He hadn’t enjoyed himself at lunch or at the park afterwards. The bubbles pop, pop, popped. He thought her kisses weren’t good.

  Except she hadn’t been pretending. Hurt added power and punch into fury. He’d probably kissed hundreds of women over the past thirteen years, and had plenty of practice, while she’d kissed one or two men.

  Envy of these unknown women, of his lifestyle, of his flashy career electrified her fury. Two simple—and what she thought were phenomenal—kisses from Luke had ruined her day because she’d had trouble thinking of anything else.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re not very good.” He pulled off one gym shoe and then the other, tossing them on the floor. He lifted his sweatshirt over his head, messing his hair.

  His casual remark sliced her ego to shreds. He thought she wasn’t a good kisser. “Not good?”

  “That’s what I said.” He flopped onto the bed as if he didn’t care whether she was in his bedroom or not.

  The action taunted. He thought she was such a terrible lover he could lay in bed and feel nothing. Nothing for her. Had his infinite number of one-night stands taught him what was good or bad? Was he judging her by a couple of kisses?

  Pride prodded her forward. Toward the bed. Toward him. She’d prove to Mr. Playboy how good of a kisser she could be. Show him she had moves, even if she didn’t. Justify she was desirable.

  Just a kiss. A long, tongue-swapping kiss. In the past, kissing had left them both panting and wanting more. She wouldn’t take advantage of him in his drunken state, but she’d give him something to think about.

  She straddled his body on the bed. Her bare knees touched his sweat-covered hips. Warmth of the needy kind slid to her abdomen.

  His eyes widened and darkened to a deeper, darker emerald. His mouth dropped open, waiting for her kiss.

  Her gaze traveled down past his corded neck and broad shoulders. Over the T-shirt he wore and tapered to his waist. His sweats fit nicely and a new bulge protruded. And she hadn’t even touched him yet.

  Self-satisfaction oozed off every pore. “Not good, huh?” Her voice dropped deep and husky. Slanting down, she placed her hands on the bed on either side of his shoulders. “I’ll show you good.”

  His tongue darted out and licked his lips. Priming for her kiss?

  She touched her mouth to his, caressing, teasing, cajoling. Enjoying the power and control. Her body sprang to life, with interesting quivers brought on by the man beneath her.

  Beneath her, but not touching.

  Except for his hands digging into her hair, trying to pull her closer.

  Her hair cascaded around their heads, a curtain creating a cocooning environment. He moaned and the sound rocketed through her. His lips opened, wanting to take possession.

  She complied, opening her mouth, letting him inside. Her tongue darted deep, tangling with his. He tasted of beer and chocolate. The first taste was foreign on him, at least to her. The second brought back memories of sharing hot cocoa. The bittersweet contrast pumped through her heart and sang a love song.

  His mouth hardened and moved roughly against her. He twisted her hair around his fingers and tugged the strands. “Please, come closer.”

  The simple request was her undoing. Her arms wilted and her body melted against him. She collapsed on top of his hard body. She could feel every contour and bulge through his clothes. His scent of fresh pine infiltrated her nose. Desire wound around them, pulling her into a pool of want and need.

  It had been so long.

  She forgot about her anger, about her fear of being hurt, and embraced this desire. Embraced her mixed-up emotions for Luke.

  Her hands untucked his T-shirt. Her fingers slid across his heated skin. His hard abs tightened under her touch. The sleekness of the curls of hair on his chest brushed her palm.

  He rolled her onto her side. His hands searched for her waistband, lifting her shirt and palming her breast. Her nipples hardened and liquid fever slashed to her core. The singing hummed and vibrated in her bloodstream. This was so much better than she remembered.

  Her conscience kicked in. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

  “The meds made my actions clumsy. I’m fine.” His hands stilled and his gaze searched her face. “I want this. Want you.”

  His words fired her loins. She wanted this. Needed this. Deserved this. To hell with emotions and consequences.

  His fingers rolled and teased, each movement sending spikes of want through her. Their tongues continued to dance and her desire escalated climbing and reaching for a crescendo. Th
is was only supposed to be an enticing kiss, not this all-out struggle to touch every part of his body.

  She tugged on his shirt trying to get it over his head. Breaking their kiss, he dragged his shirt off and unbuttoned her blouse, pushing it from her arms.

  Staring into her eyes, his hand stretched behind her back and unsnapped her bra. The tiny noise echoed in the room and through her memories. She remembered the first time he’d unhooked her bra. The first time he’d touched her in such an intimate way. She’d trusted him then. Did she trust him now?

  Did she care?

  Her breasts tingled. Sparks shot from every place they touched, scorching her skin and flaring inside. She lay half-naked before him.

  Her stomach tensed, stopping the rising choir inside. She wasn’t sixteen anymore. Her body had changed, especially since carrying a child. She crossed an arm over her breasts.

  “Don’t.” His deep-timbre voice tugged at her heart while he tugged on her hand. “You’re more beautiful than I remember.”

  A sigh whispered through her. Maybe it was a line he said to countless other women, but she wanted to believe him.

  Dipping her chin, she stared at his trim waist and the patch of hair disappearing under his sweat pants. The sigh thrummed into anticipation. She yanked the waistband lower, brushing his bulge beneath. A surge of feminine power went to her head. Just a touch and she was back in control. She wanted to be in control.

  The one time they’d made love in high school he’d initiated the moves. He’d been the aggressor and teacher, and she the willing student. This time she wanted to show him she was desirable and she knew how to handle a man.

  Doubt pricked, cooling her ardor. She didn’t have experience, but she had basic knowledge. She’d read romance novels, seen chick flicks.

  Her fingers stretched beneath the boxer briefs he wore. Lightly touching his tip, she caressed the top of his shaft. So smooth.

  He moaned. His mouth bent low to suckle her breast. Pinpricks of light passed in front of her gaze. Pleasure streamed in her veins, steaming her skin and pooling between her legs. His hands went to her waist, quickly undid her pants, and slid them over her hips and off.

  The fast move startled her. Luke had experience taking off a woman’s clothes. Tons of experience. Doubt double-downed. What was she doing? She should stop before she embarrassed herself.

  Any thought of stopping ended when his fingers rubbed against the wet silk of her panties. Each touch lit a spiral of desire, curling and clenching. His playful fingers hit her clit with pinpoint accuracy, setting up a rhythm that had her aching and wanting.

  Need roared through her. She wanted him. Now. She’d worry about the fallout later.

  She arched against his hand, wanting him more fully. Vibrations sent signals through her body. Every muscle coiled tight. Tension and pressure held her in its grip.

  “Ooh.”

  “Not yet, baby.” His fingers slipped under her panties caressing her hot, wet center. The rough callus on his finger rubbing against her soft flesh sent her over the edge. “Now.”

  Blazing white spots of light exploded behind her eyelids. Warmth poured through her in liquid fire. Spasms rocked her body. “Luke!”

  She detonated.

  Detonated with her orgasm. Detonated with her loss of control. Detonated with knowing this was a mistake. But a mistake she was going to enjoy.

  Chapter Eight

  Dani calling Luke’s name while climaxing was an aphrodisiac. Raw male need ripped through him. Heat torpedoed his shaft. He needed to be inside her. Now.

  He tore her silk panties, throwing the pieces to the ground. Her eyes opened and widened and sloped with sultriness. Shifting positions, he settled between her legs. He was rock hard for her. He pressed hot kisses to her neck, trying to calm his need. The kisses only spurred him on.

  “I’m going to be careful.” He reached inside the nightstand, opened a condom, and rolled it on. The last thing they needed was another surprise pregnancy.

  Sliding her arms around his back, she opened her legs wider to accommodate him. Arching toward him, her tiny gasps drove him on. They fit perfectly together. His need tempered with softness for her. The only woman he’d ever loved.

  His heart thudded. He stood on the edge of a cliff without skis. Was he in danger of falling in love again?

  “Dani. Look at me.” He wanted to see her expression when he entered her. Wanted to see her passion. Wanted to connect with her on a more intimate level.

  Her eyelids flickered open and her normally light-blue eyes had turned cobalt—languid and desirous. Her satisfied gleam flashed an all-consuming lust to his balls.

  “You good?” He wanted to make sure she was ready. Ready for him and ready for sex. If she was going to say no, this was the time. He held his breath, waiting for her response.

  “Good.” The word rumbled out of her, low and sexy. “Please, Luke.”

  Her plea shot through his body. Inch by swollen inch, he slid into her. Taking his time, relishing her tightness even after having a child.

  He’d never asked if it had been a natural childbirth. A stream of sorrow flowed through his bloodstream. There was so much he didn’t know.

  Tilting her hips, she brought him deeper inside, tossing out any thought of sorrow. Moist heat surrounded him. His member pulsed and he lost control. He slid out and back, sensation after sensation charging him, taking control of his thought processes. He thrust harder and faster. He couldn’t think. Pinpricks burst behind his eyelids. Sex had never felt this way with anyone else. He always stayed in control. Now, this time, he was spiraling out of control, getting to the edge, and he needed to take her with him.

  That thought in itself should’ve struck fear in him. It didn’t. And when she cried out, he couldn’t think at all.

  “Faster.” She cried again.

  The high pitch of her voice hit an answering chord in him. He thrust faster and faster. He pushed hard and her body stiffened before her inner muscles clenched with her second climax. The tiny spasms sent him over the edge. His breathing stopped for a second, and he exhaled in a rush. He was falling deeper and deeper and deeper.

  She moaned with bliss.

  With one final thrust, he convulsed inside of her. His body exploded with blinding pleasure. Feeling need and satisfaction. Feeling everything and nothing. Feeling as if he’d come home.

  * * *

  Danielle woke pleased and complete. She sensed a body next to her and jerked fully awake. What had she done?

  Her skin raced ahead of her body, instinctively knowing she should run, and run far. Her mind was an anchor pulling her to a stop. So much for being in control. She’d wanted to kiss him, to prove to him she was a good kisser. And then, things had escalated and she’d lost control.

  He moaned and his hand flopped toward her, searching for her body. “Princess.”

  Or any warm body. He’d never called her Princess when they’d dated.

  She froze, fearing he’d wake up and realize he wasn’t with his princess. He was with her. Shame skated across her skin. Heat followed by shivers of stupidity.

  His mussy hair stuck up in places. His relaxed face appeared younger, more like when they were kids. His naked body didn’t resemble a kid in any way.

  She’d slept with Luke. Again.

  After thirteen years, it only took him thirteen hours to get her back into bed.

  Sighting the clock, she started at the time. Brianna would’ve expected her home a couple of hours ago. She needed to leave.

  What was the protocol of a one-night stand? With condom at the ready, he’d obviously had plenty of experience for both of them. Bitterness edged out her earlier pleasure.

  Should she wake him and tell him goodbye? He expected to find his princess. Danielle didn’t want to see his disappointment when he realized he’d only slept with her. What if he wanted to talk about what happened? What if he bragged? She couldn’t face him right now. Maybe never.

  Mor
tified, she crawled out of bed and tiptoed across the room, picking up her clothes in the process. She tugged on her skirt and blouse, not bothering with the ripped panties. The bra she shoved in a pocket. Carrying her shoes, she took one last glance at Luke lying in bed. How was she going to face him later?

  Cringing, her face flamed. She clicked open the door and closed it silently, ready to take her march of shame.

  Danielle had heard of, but never experienced, the walk of shame. Except it wasn’t early morning. She took the back stairs, wanting to avoid the elevator and lobby. A holiday party raved in the ballroom. The revelers sounded celebratory. A feeling she didn’t share.

  The back hallway with Parker’s office, accounting and human resources was deserted. Even so, each step she took toward the employee exit vibrated up her spine with anxiety she’d be caught. Caught like a paid companion or a drunken encounter. Except she hadn’t been drunk and Luke had claimed not to be drunk either.

  Grabbing her coat, she didn’t bother putting it on to go out in the below-freezing temperatures. Her body was hot enough.

  She’d had sex with the man who’d gotten her pregnant at sixteen, a playboy, and someone who wouldn’t stick around long. She finally decided to break her volunteer celibacy; why did she choose the one man who wouldn’t appreciate her?

  Cracks formed in her heart, leaking humiliation. He’d think of this as another conquest. Another woman falling at his heels. Another one-night stand.

  That’s how she had to think of the episode. Or at least act as if that was what she believed.

  This was not a rekindling of a romance. They were two mature adults having fun. Nothing more.

  And, she vowed, never, ever again.

  * * *

  Luke woke with an aching head and satisfied loins. He rolled over to cuddle with Dani, wanting to be near her. His fingers touched the empty bed beside him.

  He slapped the mattress again and again, stirring up the smell of sex. She wouldn’t just leave him. They weren’t kids with curfews. She was probably in the bathroom.

  “Dani.” He tensed. “Dani?”

  No answer. No noise coming from anywhere in the suite. No sense of her presence. His gut twisted. Why would she leave without saying goodbye?