I Need You for Christmas

by Leah Braemel

  Megan hurried out of the car and up the steps, catching Amy before she could attempt the journey across the still slippery path. “Look at you!” She hugged Amy as hard as she could, considering the enormous baby bump between them. “Oh my God, you look so beautiful. You’re really glowing.”

  “More like overheated.” Amy laughed and rubbed a hand over her belly, unable to keep the pride from her eyes. “It’s the pregnancy hormones. I can’t ever get cool. Come on in, there’s no point in you standing out here freezing.”

  Amy led her inside. Unlike some of the storefront decorations, the front hall had been tastefully decorated with evergreen swags gracefully wound through the stairway railings. The scent of pine mingled with cinnamon and apple assailed her. Just like it had every time she’d visited, the place reminded her of Ryan. Relaxed and comfortable, friendly and welcoming to everyone who passed through its doors. It had been his family home too, yet he’d moved out and let his brother and his wife use it. Just like Ryan, putting everyone else first. Another reason she was glad she was finally moving back to Ontario. Back to Ryan. He’d given up so much for everyone else, it was time someone put him first for once.

  She followed Amy into the living room dominated by an eight-foot-high fresh pine tree decorated in silver and blue where Derek and Noah were playing a video game.

  After Amy’s forced throat clearing, Derek tossed the controller onto the couch and stood to give Meg a quick hug. “Hi, Meg. Glad to see you got here safely.”

  She’d always liked Derek from the first time Amy had introduced them. The couple were a good pair, one fair, one dark, Amy given to fits of fancy, Derek down to earth and practical, but with none of Ryan’s artistic flair.

  Derek gestured to the gawky teenager still on the couch. “Hey, Noah, pause the game and say hi, will you?”

  The teenager grinned self-consciously and unfurled himself from the couch until he towered over her. “Hey, Aunt Megan.”

  She was flattered that he still referred to her by the honorary title of aunt. “Wow, you’ve grown a couple inches since I last saw you. Aren’t you supposed to have stopped growing?” Some of the Porter genes showed through—the shape of his face with its strong jaw, but the eyes were wrong. They didn’t have the amber sparkle or slant that Ryan’s and Derek’s did.

  Noah ducked his head and blushed. “I’m still only six foot two.”

  “With feet to match,” Derek added.

  Ryan joined them as she asked Noah about his first term at college, and Derek about managing his work as an accountant while running the mill. “Where’s Sophie?”

  “She’s working over at the arena, picking up some extra hours. She’ll be back this evening.” There was a heartfelt sigh signaling Amy was in a full-blown mother-hen mode. “She’s still talking about going to Oxford next fall.”

  The conversation between the Porters splintered between discussions of plans for Megan’s visit, of Sophie’s student exchange plans, who was going to be where for the next few days, and Amy’s pregnancy. The urge to spill out her potential good news bubbled up inside until Megan started squirming.

  Ryan gave her a quizzical look but stood and held out his hand. “Well, guys, it’s been great, but I have to take the truck in to get an estimate, and I promised Meg I’d take her shopping.”

  * * *

  Afraid Amy would drag them into some other family event, Ryan hustled Meg out the door and gunned the truck down the lane before anyone could stop them. Luckily the ice had long since melted off the roads so their trip was uneventful. They hit the auto repair places first and went through the paperwork and estimates the insurance company required. Almost two hours had passed before Ryan pocketed the keys to a new rental car—or truck in this case, since he refused to drive a sedan.

  “So, do you want to hit the mall or just wander around downtown first?”

  “Let’s hit the mall and finish up my Christmas shopping, and I want to buy a new outfit for Christmas day.”

  “If I had my way, you’d stay naked all day.” Ryan wondered if he smiled as much when Meg wasn’t with him.

  Doubtful.

  Normally he enjoyed watching Meg delight in the choices of the local shops, but now it reminded him that buying his supplies would be difficult once he moved up north. When she disappeared into a change room, he tuned out the bland Christmas music blaring over the store’s speakers and mentally ticked off all the items he’d arranged to be shipped. What had he forgotten? With any luck it wouldn’t be anything important.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  “Huh?” He had to snap his jaw shut when he looked up and saw her. For the last four years, he’d only seen her wear jeans or uniform pants, but now she was wearing a totally hot V-neck sweater that hugged her curves to perfection and a trim skirt that accentuated the curves of her ass. He’d never seen her so vibrant as she was on this visit. It ramped up her sexuality tenfold. “Wow.”

  His reaction earned him a smile but the light faded from her eyes, replaced with concern. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, sure, why?”

  “You looked worried.” Her subtle spicy perfume mingled with the scent of Amy’s soap assailed him as her fingers lightly trailed down his jaw.

  Memories of making love to her the night before, of rubbing the soap over her skin in the shower this morning, over her breasts, had his balls seeking extra room in his jeans.

  “No. I’m good.” He shrugged, giving himself a mental warning that Meg was much better at reading him than the rest of his family. “I keep feeling I’ve forgotten to buy a present for someone and it’ll come back and bite me in the ass.”

  The shadow in her eye disappeared, replaced with merriment. “That’s everyone’s fear at this time of year.”

  They stopped off for at a restaurant in one of the smaller towns on the way back, sharing a pulled pork poutine, before retracing their route back to the mill.

  “Come on, I’ll give you the toonie tour of the place before it closes. The café’s open now—it’s what brings the locals in, and keeps the tourists longer so they’ll buy things.”

  Pride filled his voice as he described the changes they’d made—from the researching the machinery they needed so they could have a working mill, to finding a stonemason to deal with repointing the first level’s fieldstone walls. A hint of relief crept in when he bragged about Amy’s and Derek’s management of the store and subsequent marketing that had turned the mill into a year-round tourist attraction.

  When his father had died, the place had been derelict for over fifty years, with holes in the windows and birds living in the rafters. The birds had long ago been forced to nest outside, the glass replaced in the original frames, the roof reshingled, and the wood on the upper levels replaced so the casual observer couldn’t tell new boards from old.

  The area where wood and supplies had been stored had been turned into a store, with a small café at the back. A melange of coffee, nutmeg and cider, and a touch of the ever-present sawdust from the working side of the mill scented the air. When they’d debated whether to cover the rough wooden plank flooring with something more modern, Amy sided with him over Derek to keep the rustic charm by merely sanding the wood.

  He stood back, watching, as Meg wandered past the hundreds of locally made crafts that crowded the shelves on the narrow aisles. She stopped to admire some hand-painted Christmas decorations, locally made honey fudge and hand-knitted and quilted items. Overhead a miniature train chugged along the track he’d installed after being entranced by a similar one at a dairy in one of the nearby towns. One of the Reeve’s grandkids pressed the button by the cash register that set off the train’s whistle; a round of amused chuckles from the adults at the café accompanied the children’s hoots of delight.

  When he looked back, Meg was fingering the metal sculpture of a dragon nestled among a shelf filled with various local artist’s work. “This is one of yours, isn’t it?”

  It pleased him that out of all
the pieces on display she’d chosen his design. “Yup.”

  Her gaze met his, pride shining clear. “I’m so glad you got back into sculpting again. You’re so talented.”

  Not half as talented as the fingers that were stroking the tiny metal sculpture with the same tenderness as they’d stroked his cock the night before. He shifted his stance to give his balls more room in his jeans.

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah, that’s a miniature of the piece I’ve just sold to a collector in Phoenix.”

  “I don’t know how you manage it, but he looks like he’s about to launch himself into flight.”

  While he’d heard the same thing from others, hearing it from her meant more than any of the other compliments. For a brief second, he regretted selling the larger piece, wishing he could give it to her as a present. But there’d be nowhere for her to display it. No, it was better off moving to its new home. Besides, the money had gone to a good cause. “Did you want to order anything? We could eat it here or take it upstairs.”

  She peered in the glass-fronted cabinet displaying dozens of varieties of pastries. “Oh my God, I’ll gain ten pounds a month if I live here! Does Amy make all this herself or does she get it from White’s bakery?”

  “One of our neighbors makes the cookies and muffins, but the bread and pastries come from White’s.” Once she’d ordered a raspberry and white chocolate scone and demolished it as if she hadn’t just eaten lunch, he laced his fingers with hers and tugged her out of the shop and into the mill room.

  “This is where the real magic happened.” He tugged her around the millstone, pointing out the changes they’d made, and the equipment they’d had to repair or replace before realizing she was watching him instead of the mill.

  “I’d forgotten how passionate you get about your projects.” Laughter sparkled in her eyes but warmth filled her voice. Her fingers tightened around his as she whispered, “I’ve missed this—just being able to touch you.”

  Lost for words, he lifted their still-joined hands and pressed her fingers to his lips.

  The boy who had been making the train whistle in the store raced into the room, interrupting his spell. Seconds later, the boy’s grandmother hurried in. “Kevin Patrick Jennings, come back here. You mustn’t run off like that.” She caught the boy’s hand and banded her fingers around his wrists. Catching Ryan and Meg watching, she gave them an apologetic look with an exhausted sigh. “I love my grandchildren but this one is running me ragged.”

  Ryan sympathized—he’d felt the same when he’d become Noah and Sophie’s full-time parent. “At least you can turn him back over to his parents at the end of the day.”

  “There is that benefit.” She turned to Meg and held out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve met before, but I’m guessing from the way Ryan was looking at you, you must be Megan. I’m Betty Ann Jennings, and this is my grandson—”

  “Kevin,” Meg supplied with a smile.

  Ryan stood back as the two women greeted each other, praying that Betty Ann wouldn’t mention that he’d quit his job, or ask how the packing was going. Best way to stop that cat from being let out of its Christmas wrapping was to get away from the cat. Ryan slid his hand around Meg’s waist. “We won’t keep you. It looks like Kevin’s bored.” He nodded toward the boy, who had sidled out of the door and returned to the store.

  “Oh good heavens, I cannot keep up with that child.”

  As Betty Ann hurried after her grandson, Ryan called out, “Don’t forget to come to the Toys for Tots party this weekend. You promised you’d be there.”

  “Are you kidding? You think Kevin would let any of us forget?”

  He tugged an amused Meg from the mill before anyone else could interrupt them. Large flakes of snow tumbled lazily around them as they climbed the wooden staircase to the balcony on the second floor where he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

  She’d barely made it inside before Ryan kicked the door shut and flattened her against the wall. The soft puff of breath as she relaxed into his hold made the possessive caveman side of him roar with approval.

  Her lips were soft against his, parting without hesitation to allow him to plunder her mouth, to capture her breath and the quiet moan of pleasure. Raspberry, white chocolate and Megan bombarded his taste buds. A heady combination that shot straight to his already hard cock.

  By the time he pulled away they were both breathing heavy. Megan’s tongue darted out over her slightly swollen lips as she shrugged out of her parka. Once unencumbered, she dropped to her knees, undid his ski jacket and pushed the edges aside, then lowered his fly.

  “Do you know how often I’ve fantasized about doing this for you again?”

  As good as it felt to have the pressure of the fabric ease over his erection, it damned near killed him not to move or make a sound when her fingers closed around his shaft and freed it.

  His eyes nearly crossed when the tip of her tongue flicked over the crown and lapped at the head. Pleasure that she remembered exactly what pleased him built a fire in his chest. Her tongue licked and swirled, allowing her teeth to lightly rasp over his shaft as she fondled his balls, using a slight pressure just where he liked it.

  He threaded his fingers through her hair and tightened his grip, forcing her to look at up at him, needing to see her expression, to see the passion in her eyes. To know she knew exactly who she was kneeling before, whose cock she had in her mouth. “Not here, in the bedroom.”

  His breathing rough, he untangled his fingers from her hair and wrapped them around her biceps, lifting her to her feet. After a quick adjustment of his pants, he slipped a hand behind her knees and lifted her in his arms.

  Once he’d set her on her feet by the bed, Meg started to remove her top but he stopped her. “Leave it. I want to undress you, just let me get this started first.”

  Her breath hitched when he slid his fingers beneath the hem of her sweater. “Sorry, didn’t mean to tickle.”

  That time. Though he stored it away for use later. “Lift up.”

  Obligingly she lifted her arms and he tugged the sweater as far as her elbows and trapped her. The silky number she wore beneath the sweater followed, revealing a creamy expanse of her belly. He dropped to his knees and unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them down to her ankles. Unable to resist, he pressed his face to the smooth skin, finding her ticklish spot with his tongue.

  The sweater and chemise dropped by his knees. Moments later, Meg curled her fingers in his hair and tugged lightly with a laughing “Stop it.”

  After one last nuzzle, he sat back on his heels. Her ponytail was skewed to one side. Bits of hair had sprung free and now waved in mad swirls around her face. Her lipstick had long since worn off, but she’d never looked more beautiful to him. Not just because of the bra that did little more than support her breasts, or the swells that peeked out over the lace.

  What was it about her that made all his concerns fall away? When they’d been in college, she’d grounded him. Helped him concentrate on his studies when he’d be obsessed with his latest creation. She’d been there for him when he’d been overwhelmed by all the responsibilities left to him after his parents’ death. Driving up from Toronto on the weekends, phoning or texting him when he was about to pull his hair out. Even when she’d had to move to the RCMP training academy in Saskatchewan, she’d always found the time, never complained when he needed to vent.

  “What?” Her smile faded a bit. She stroked his hair—like it did every time, it soothed him, settled him.

  “You’re amazing.”

  Her smile widening, she dropped to her knees in front of him and brushed a kiss on his cheek. “Not that I’m sure where that came from but thank you.”

  He flicked the bra’s clasp and slipped the tiny straps from her shoulders, eliciting a shiver. Not of passion but from the chilled air. “Hang on, let me start the fire and take the chill off this place. I’ve set the thermostat to a lower temperature during the day when I’m teaching and forgot to
reprogram it.”

  He spread the duvet over her, making sure she was warm, then knelt at the restored stone fireplace. Normally he loved the routine of making a fire, loved the hiss and crackle of the wood as it burnt. Tonight he found himself wishing for a gas unit that could be started by remote. Once he was satisfied the wood had caught, he set the fire screen in front of it, toed off his boots and ditched his clothes.

  “Party pooper,” Meg complained when he stretched out beside her.

  “What?”

  “I wanted to undress you.” With a grin of impish delight, she disappeared beneath the covers and burrowed until her chin bumped his cock.

  He sucked in a breath when she nuzzled the swollen head and cupped his balls, one finger—or maybe it was a thumb, he couldn’t see—stroking the soft skin behind his sac.

  Fuck the damned covers. With a snarl, he tangled his fingers in her hair to hold her in place, then bent his knees and kicked off the blankets and sheet until they tumbled on the floor.

  Laughter bubbled from her as she lifted her head to meet his gaze. “You could have warned me, you know.”

  “Didn’t mean to scare you, babe. But you know how I love to watch.”

  Her eyes darkened and lids grew heavy as she nodded. “Yeah, I know. You love watching me lick you like this.”

  He fisted his hands in the bottom sheet when she leaned down and licked the full length of his shaft, her tongue leaving a hot, damp trail that glistened in the firelight.

  “Yeah. Just like that.” Damn, she undid him. This woman who could run down criminals, be as hard-assed as anyone he’d ever met—more—would humble herself by getting on her knees, between his thighs, and put her mouth on him.

  “And you love watching me take your cock in my mouth like this.”

  Her gaze still locked with his, she swallowed him down until her nose touched the crisp hair of his groin. Oh fuck, yeah! He had to clear the rasp from his throat before he tried to speak. Even so his “Meg” was more of a croak than a whisper.

  Where he’d held her still, now she gripped his hips, stopping him from thrusting into her mouth. “My turn.”