Christmas at the Cove

by Rachel Brimble

  She stepped toward him, her gaze steady on his. “I have no idea why I’m doing this, but I know I want to more than anything.” She closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath before opening them again. “You...” She shook her head. “You are....”

  He lunged forward and covered her mouth with his. She didn’t need to say anything else because he understood her. She wanted him with the same inexplicable, passionate yearning with which he wanted her. They were meant to be together, making love at every opportunity. He was meant to care for her, love her, bring her pleasure and soothe any pain he couldn’t stand the thought of her having to ever endure. He was meant to be hers.

  * * *

  CARRIE TREMBLED AS her entire body was overcome with arousal, and her heart with liberty coated with delicate, fearful permission. Her happiness was strong, if her motivation still unclear.

  Her fingers ached to touch every part of Scott’s body. Her center throbbed with the need to feel him deep inside her. Her heart beat with want and need for a man who’d never fully left her consciousness in three whole years. Maybe, just maybe, they could have sex this one time and then know they were never meant to be. Maybe she would touch him and he’d touch her and the need would be sated...

  Laughter rang in her stupid head as she clasped her hand to the back of his strong, masculine neck and pulled his face to hers. Their lips met and he lifted her into his arms. She locked her ankles at the base of his spine and he held her there. His body was solid, his stance firm, making her feel feather-light in his embrace. Her femininity soared and her body came alive as though it had lain dormant since she was last in his arms.

  She ran her hands over the hardened ridges of his shoulders then lower to grip biceps wider than the span of her hands. He was brick swathed in silk; every muscle hard, every vein large and engorged with hot male blood. Carrie kissed him deeper as her body screamed for his touch. With their lips devouring, taking and branding, he carried her backwards and then lowered her to the bed.

  Their eyes locked as he stood at the edge of the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. Next he yanked open his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, pausing to draw a wallet from his back pocket. He pushed the jeans down his thighs and her heart hammered as her gaze fell to the erection tenting his boxers. She trembled with impatience, her nipples tightening and her core growing warm with wetness.

  He removed a foil packet from his wallet and put it atop the bedside table. He met her eyes, silently asking the question. Do we do this or not? Do you want me like I want you? She nodded, excitement soaring through her blood on a hot, heady wave of certainty.

  Smiling softly, he relaxed his shoulders and kicked off his shoes, leaning down to tug off his socks. Carrie licked her lips as he finally got rid of his jeans and came toward her. He crawled onto the bed and laid his huge, muscled bulk next to hers. Achingly slowly, he trailed his fingers down the side of her face to her neck, his gaze following their journey. She screwed her fingers into the bed covers. She was little more than a weakened slave and he her master. The thrill of having a man as quietly strong as Scott admire her in the way he was turned her body and heart to putty in his hands.

  His fingers reached the curve of her breasts and he snapped open the front fastener on her bra. He leaned over and took one peaked nipple into his mouth. She sucked in air between clenched teeth and closed her eyes, moving her hand to caress his smooth, broad back. She clung to him as he sucked and teased, his hand gliding down over her belly to trace the line of her panties.

  The agony was excruciating but she didn’t ask him to stop, sadistically wanting the pleasure/pain of his lovemaking to stretch for as long as they could make it last. Back and forth he brushed those teasing fingers...

  “Look at me, Carrie.”

  She opened her heavy lids.

  He stared deep into her eyes, his blue gaze dark with desire and his jaw set. “You’re beautiful. You’re sexy...and tonight, you’re mine.”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  There was no finesse in the hungry jab of his hand into her panties and over her clitoris. Her body screamed with pleasure and she cried out as she gripped his neck, pulling him down and hungrily claiming his mouth. He massaged her, slipped his fingers deep into her wetness and sweet joy swelled in her heart that he now knew what he did to her. The shame she’d anticipated, the nerves she’d expected, didn’t show up and she didn’t care to ask why.

  Scott was all she could think of.

  He pleasured her until her body climbed toward the place she wanted to be with him buried deep inside her. Blindly, she reached for the condom packet and ripped it open.

  “Here, let me touch you.” Her words were jerky and demanding, illustrating her need and desperation.

  He eased away from her and she reached for him. Trailing her nails down his chest, over his navel and the line of dark hair to his boxers. Together, they eased them off and she caressed the length of his erection. He was just as she remembered and her body trembled at the thought of what was to come. She cupped and teased his tightened balls and upward to massage his penis.

  “Carrie...”

  Smiling softly, she lifted her head and they kissed. Their tongues strained and battled as she sheathed him. His thumb ran over her nipple, heightening her arousal and fuelling her desire. He eased her back and then moved over her. She opened her legs wide and he slid one hand beneath her waist, hitching her closer, and with a final, loving gaze, at last, he entered her.

  “Oh, God...” She sighed, her mouth dropping open.

  In and out gently then a possessive thrust. Over and over, he brought her closer...then drew her back. She whimpered and clasped her hands to his taut ass, taking over and pushing him to do her bidding. She lifted her legs and he slid deeper until the rising heat of the building sensations sent her need into overdrive.

  She couldn’t have imagined their lovemaking being any more sensual. He took her as she wanted. His thrusts, powerful and meaningful, given with love and attention. She couldn’t hold back anymore and dug her nails into his shoulders as her orgasm crashed through her body, sending delicious tremors of pure pleasure pulsing from her toes to her scalp.

  His shoulders stiffened and then his breath left his lungs as he shuddered, taking his pleasure and hers. On and on, the tremors rolled through them, uniting them in a mist of passion that made her want to cry out loud. Slowly, they came back down to earth and Carrie smiled. He met her smile and leaned in to kiss her. Carrie closed her eyes as reality tiptoed back in and whispered into her ear what she already knew. One summer’s night three years ago, her soul mate walked into a bar and she immediately fell in love.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SCOTT PUT HIS key in the lock of his front door. It was 2:00 a.m. and every part of his body was alive with a feeling as terrifying as it was amazing. He and Carrie had broken the barrier. Scott smiled. Thank God her need matched his. When she removed her wedding band...

  He took a deep breath and exhaled. The same terrifying feeling he was falling in love with her was happening all over again, but this time he was ready and willing to accept it. The only fear that tainted the certainty edged with illicit excitement at the prospect of a future with Carrie was he still didn’t know for sure Belle was his. Scott smiled. Yes, he did. He knew without any test results.

  He trusted Carrie more than he’d ever trusted anyone. Wasn’t that enough to know it was right they were together?

  His smile faltered as he closed the door and hung his keys on a hook beside him. With no idea whether her wedding band had gone back on her finger the minute he left her hotel room, his insecurity was hard to handle, but Scott was determined to fight for Carrie’s love and trust and would make whatever changes he had to make to ensure that happened.

  He shrugged out of his leather jacket and slung it on the banister before moving alon
g the hallway, praying his mum and youngest sister were asleep. If they were still up, there would most definitely be questions.

  He and Carrie had made love twice, lapsing into whispered conversations and laughter in between. If the DNA test came back negative...he shook his head. He couldn’t go there. He was falling for her and the thought she could’ve lied to him, or come back to Templeton for something more than his right to know about his daughter, lingered on his heart like a bruise.

  Scott resolutely shook off his negativity and strained his ears to any sounds coming from the living room or kitchen. Nothing. Humming softly, he strolled into the living room and his heart stopped. His mother was hunched in her armchair.

  “Mum? What are you doing sitting in the dark?” He strode forward and flicked on the lamp beside her, casting her frozen face in an amber glow. “Mum?” She flicked her gaze to his and her unspent tears glimmered in the semi-darkness. Scott inwardly cursed. What now? Why couldn’t his happiness, his lack of worry, ease for just a few hours? “Mum?”

  She blinked and her face broke with a soft smile. “You’re back.”

  He frowned and glanced around the room as though looking for an explanation that could send his usually vibrant, active mother into this coma-like state. “Has something happened?”

  “No. Everything’s fine.”

  He looked deep into her eyes. “Talk to me. Everything’s not fine.”

  “Where have you been, sweetheart?”

  “Mum, what’s wrong?”

  “Have you been with that girl? The blonde, as Bianca calls her.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to talk about Carrie right now—”

  “Carrie. Pretty name for a girl I hear is pretty damn beautiful.”

  Scott narrowed his gaze. “Stop avoiding the subject. What’s happened? Why are you sitting alone in the dark?” He glanced toward the open door. “Isn’t Lucy here?”

  “She’s in her room and asleep, I hope.” She cupped her hand to his jaw. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. Go to bed, I’ll be up shortly.”

  Scott took her hand from his face and pressed a kiss to her palm. Still grasping her hand, he slid onto the chair beside her. “Nice try. Spill. Now.”

  She opened her mouth, most likely to protest, but then snapped it shut. She closed her eyes and slumped against the cushions at her back. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s late and I don’t need you telling me off.”

  “Telling you off? Since when do I tell you off?”

  “You will if I tell you this.”

  Unease lifted the hairs at the back of Scott’s neck as Bianca’s concern at the bakery hurtled through him. “Is this about Dad?”

  His mother flinched. “What?”

  “It is, isn’t it?” He tightened his jaw. “Has he been bothering you?”

  “No.” She snatched her gaze from his to glare at the blackened TV. “I’m big enough to take care of myself, thank you very much.”

  Taking a deep breath to calm his simmering temper, Scott closed his eyes. “Then if it’s not him—”

  “It is him, but that doesn’t make this your business. Not yet.”

  He opened his eyes as dread, anger and revulsion knotted his stomach. “Mum—”

  Her gaze hardened. “I’m not an idiot or too weak to deal with a man I’ve been married to for close on forty years. I don’t need your involvement in what goes on between us. If, or when I do, I’ll let you know.”

  Scott pushed to his feet and his hand trembled when he pushed it into his hair and held it there. He stared down at his mother, protectiveness forming a rock in the center of his chest. “You might still be married to him, but you haven’t seen him for ten of those forty years. What’s he done now? What does he want?”

  “He hasn’t done anything.”

  “Then what—”

  “He wants to come visit for Christmas.” She closed her eyes and turned her face to the TV a second time. “He says it’s time he made up for the mistakes he’s made. He wants another chance.” She looked at him. “From all of us.”

  Scott huffed out a laugh as his temper gathered strength. “Are you serious?”

  “We’ve been...” She looked at him from beneath lowered lashes. “We’ve been talking over the last few weeks and—”

  “Wait.” He widened his eyes. “You’ve been talking to him for weeks?”

  She lifted her chin, her gaze determined. “Yes.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “No, Mum, I don’t, so you need to explain it to me.” He snatched his hand from his hair and curled it into a fist at his side. “Because right now, I want to go out that door and find him. Find him and tell him to disappear back to wherever the hell he came from.”

  “You’ve never loved anyone apart from me and your sisters, Scottie.” His mother’s voice was soft with concern rather than accusation. “You can’t possibly understand this.”

  Carrie shot into his mind and he closed his eyes. His father’s disrespect toward his mother over the years could not compare to something so fresh, new and exciting beginning between him and Carrie. Maybe he didn’t know about long-lasting love, but he knew about caring for people.

  He fisted his hands on his hips and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “So because I’ve never been in love or married, I’m expected to roll out the red carpet for the man who walked out on my mother and sisters and now decides he wants to make up for things.” He met her sad gaze and slumped his shoulders. “That’s just ridiculous, Mum and you know it.”

  She shook her head, a lone tear slipping down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  Scott dropped to his haunches in front of her, taking her hands in his. “Sorry for what? What have you told him?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Then there’s no harm done.”

  She eased one hand from his and swiped at her face, her gaze burning with determination once more. “I will continue to speak to him. This is my decision to make, not yours.”

  Frustration burst like wildfire in his chest and he stood. “So you’re actually going to let the man stick his cheating, abandoning feet under the table this Christmas? You’ve worried about me ending up like him in the past and I truly believed it was for fear of losing me the way you did him. But maybe all along you were angry the bastard had yet to crawl his way back here.”

  “Don’t you talk to me that way.” His mother pushed to her feet and pointed her finger. “I’m your mother, and who I do and don’t cook for on Christmas is up to me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  Scott scowled, his mind racing and his heart hurting for the potential heartbreak that could befall his mother a second time if she let his father back into her life. He loved her so much. Over his dead body would he let her be blindsided by a man who caused her so much pain and worry—and could easily do so again. “I can’t let you do this, Mum. I won’t.”

  “Let me do what exactly? Live my life? Make my own decisions?”

  “This isn’t a good decision. Look what you’re doing already. The man has been calling, writing or whatever, and now you’re sitting alone, in the dark, at two in the morning worrying and fretting. He’s no good and deep down, you know that and don’t need me to tell you. Have you told Bianca?”

  Her cheeks reddened. “Not yet.”

  “Good. We need to talk about this as a family.”

  “No.”

  Scott stared at her. “No?”

  “You’re my children and I love you, but you’re grown. What I do now is up to me.”

  Anger pulsed through him. His father already had his mother
caught in his snare. Somehow, unbeknownst to Scott, the spider had wound its web and caught her while his children carried on with their lives, oblivious to what he was doing. Scott concentrated on cooling his need to punch the wall. He had to play this nice and steady or risk sending his mother running into her husband’s arms. He raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. If you want to see him, I can’t stop you, but you can’t bring him here and expect us all to welcome him with open arms. You tell him I don’t want him here and I very much doubt the girls will, either. Do you even know what he wants after all this time?”

  “He wants us.”

  “Us? He has no idea who we are anymore.”

  “Then we should let him find out. Dads are only human, Scottie. They make mistakes.” She smiled wryly. “Admittedly, most of them don’t make mistakes that run ten years, but they do make mistakes that hurt and change their children. You’re not a daddy yet, but one day, I hope you will be and then you’ll know.” She frowned, her eyes pleading with him. “You’ll know what it’s like to have your little girl or boy look at you as though you’re their entire world and how scary it is day after day doing your best not to let them down.”

  The secret of his child—of Belle—fell like lead into his stomach and stayed there. Within hours he could be a father to a little girl he’d yet to meet. Would he let her down in the years to come too?

  He swiped his hand over his face. “Fine. Do what you have to do, but Bianca, Ella and Lucy have a right to know what’s going on, and they have a right to refuse to see him, too.”

  “You can’t hold on to this forever. Your resentment toward your father will destroy you in the end. No good comes from holding grudges.”

  Scott stared. “I get he’s human, but I really can’t see my feelings about the man changing.”

  “Would you not even try if I asked you to?”

  Her eyes pleaded with him and Scott’s anger deepened that already his father had pushed the beginnings of a wedge between him and his mum. He closed his eyes. “In time...who knows, but that’s the best I can do right now.”