A Lot Like Christmas

by Dawn Atkins

  “You didn’t save me. I caught my balance fine.”

  “But I was there just in case. And the view was great.”

  They were close enough to kiss. Chase’s breath brushed her face, warm and minty. “Though I figured you for a bare-legs girl.” His eyes were golden-brown in the reflected glow of the flashlight. They were both breathing unevenly.

  “Why was that?”

  “Stockings seem like too much of a hassle. Sexy, sure, but…” He paused. “Bare legs makes it all so much easier….”

  The words made her ache where she craved his touch. Who needed a table when they had this dusty tunnel? Ridiculous. Again.

  “Lucy talked me into the stockings,” she said.

  “How about that pink lace bra? She talk you into that?”

  “My pink lace… When did you see my bra?”

  “Accidentally, I swear. Your blouse gapped while I was leaning over you at the computer and there it was, pink and lace and you filling it out in nice tempting mounds. Mmm.”

  Sylvie burned with embarrassment and lust. “I like to support our stores,” she croaked.

  “That Lucy’s quite the saleswoman.” Chase’s eyes twinkled with hot mischief. “Anything else she talk you into? Say a feather boa? Or one of those corset thingies you can tie…real…tight?”

  “I’m not so much into costumes,” she breathed, sinking into the low, slow sexiness of his tone.

  “Are you forgetting Santa and his elves?”

  “That’s different. As a rule, I prefer to keep it real.”

  “Oh, me, too. Real and…raw.”

  Raw? Not so far in her sex life. With Chase, though, judging from the open-air make-out session, where she’d been out of control enough to bang the horn and not care if Leo saw them, it might be just that. Real and raw and wild. “Completely off the hook.” Her bold words aroused her further.

  Chase whistled softly. “Now that I’d like to see.” He clearly wanted her badly. He made her feel like a luscious dessert—a tres leches cake dripping with buttercream glaze, say—and he was desperate for a fork.

  “How about the toy store?” Chase blurted. “How much trouble can we get into there?”

  “Sounds safe enough,” she said, tucking away her sexual impulses.

  Once in the aisles of Toy Town, Chase handed Sylvie the demo Nerf shooter and grabbed a Nerf bow-and-arrow for himself.

  “I’m not normally a violent person,” she said, hitting him three times before he hid behind a counter.

  “But I bring out the worst in you?” He fired an arrow that hit her shoulder, then ducked back.

  “Something like that.” When she reached for one of the arrows that had missed her, she spotted an open carton of Silly String cans. The box was marked defective. She read the label on one can: “No stain, no stick, cleans up easy.” Perfect for what she had in mind.

  She pulled off the lid and squirted a small amount into her hand to see how defective it was. The string came out fine, except it was a sickly green color, so that must be the problem. Best of all, the store wouldn’t be out a dime if they emptied a can or two before putting them back.

  A sponge arrow shot past her head. “You missed! But I won’t.” She jumped up, and sprayed a wad of string into Chase’s hair and across his white guard shirt. He looked utterly startled and she burst out laughing. “Gotcha!”

  He dropped behind his counter, then popped up beside her a few seconds later.

  “Hey,” she said as he went for his own can. She tried to hold him back, but failed and soon he was on top of her, pinning her to the floor.

  The green web dangling from his hair did not detract one bit from how manly he seemed in his uniform leaning over her, holding her down. “What do you know?” he said. “We’re in trouble in a toy store.”

  She raised her chest, as if trying to escape, then licked her lips, which had gone dry.

  “Ouch. If that move isn’t against the law, it should be.” He squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to get control of his lust.

  She loved that, so when he opened his eyes, she did it again, even slower, watching him the whole time, deliberately teasing him.

  She was aware of his hips pressing down on hers, his thigh nudging between her legs. She wanted to kiss him, slide herself against him. All wrong. They were supposed to be having fun, enjoying the mall, not stirring up sexual urges.

  “How about a duel?” she said. “We stand back to back, walk ten paces, turn and fire.”

  “I’m in,” he said.

  “So let me up.” She struggled against his grip.

  “Promise you won’t shoot me.”

  “You’ll just have to see, won’t you?”

  He let her hands go and sat back on his heels. She grabbed her can and planted a blob right in the middle of his forehead.

  “No fair,” he said.

  “All’s fair in string wars,” she said, aiming again. He blocked the shot with his palm, then scooted to a counter.

  “Truce,” she said, waving a stuffed white rabbit in the air. “I’m standing up now. Don’t shoot.”

  They both rose slowly, watching each other, cans at the ready. Fully upright, they relaxed, then met in the middle of the store, backs together. Sylvie’s head rested against Chase’s strong shoulders. She felt his ribs expand and contract with each breath.

  “Ready?” he said, the word vibrating against her body.

  “As I’ll ever be,” she said.

  “I’ll count the paces,” he said. “One…two…three…”

  At ten, they both spun and squirted. Sylvie yelped as his green string hit her in the chest. She’d gotten him in the shoulder. They kept spraying until they’d emptied their cans, laughing the entire time, string drooping in big loops from everywhere.

  “You’re a mess,” she said, peeling the fibers hanging from his hair and shirt.

  “You, too.” He removed strings that had caught in her curls and brushed more off her shoulders. They were close now, nearly embracing, and his fingers were warm as they teased her cheek, her arms, her ribs. He ran his hands down the sides of her shirt, almost touching her breasts, lingering as they moved, coming to rest on her hips. He never took his eyes off her.

  “I think I’ve been clean for a while now,” she said shakily, everything in her wanting to throw her arms around him and kiss them both into a mindless frenzy.

  “Who knew toy stores could be so sexy?”

  Anyplace would be sexy with Chase, she realized in dismay. They kept circling each other, closer and closer, as if pulled by a powerful magnet.

  “This was fun, huh?” she said.

  “Yeah, it was…fun.”

  And far too tempting. Fighting the urges was wearing Sylvie down, like struggling against a rolling ocean. But she had to stick it out a while longer, get Chase talking about the good times he’d had here, cement his enjoyment of the mall.

  “I should make my rounds,” he said with a slight smile. “Randolph was very firm. Every two hours, but change it up. Inside and outside. Want to ride along? We can take Dasher outside to pee while we’re at it.”

  As they drove the length of the mall, Dasher cozy between them, Sylvie got Chase talking about his childhood campouts—the time Fletcher got the rubber raft from the camping display stuck in a stairwell, the time the iguana got loose and they had to trap it with a fishing net, playing hide-and-seek among the wooden furniture in Captain Bean’s Wood Wonders, the time they’d brought skateboards and nearly killed themselves trying to jump the low planter wall.

  Outside, the night was clear, the stars bright, the air mild. At the edge of the park area, a police cruiser stopped and the officer asked them if everything was all right. They thanked him for the extra attention.

  Back inside the mall, Chase helped her from the cart and she swayed against him, enjoying the closeness too much. She had to get out of here soon. “How about s’mores and a ghost story before I head home?” she said a little too breathlessly.r />
  “Sounds good,” Chase said.

  Back at the tent, they stuck marshmallows onto the chopsticks she’d brought for that purpose and held them over the hot plate to roast.

  “Mom always made the s’mores in advance,” Chase said. “No way she’d let us use a hot plate here. This is much better. You get that toasty smell.” He brought his light brown marshmallow to her nose.

  “Mmm. I’ll make yours.” She tugged the blob from his chopstick and dropped it onto the chocolate-covered graham cracker on a paper plate she’d prepared, then licked the melted marshmallow from her finger.

  “I thought I warned you about that tongue,” he murmured.

  “Sorry,” she said, but she wasn’t. She handed him the plate, then assembled her own treat. The laptop fire crackled romantically beside them.

  “Mmm,” Chase said after the first bite.

  “I know. Yum, huh?”

  “You’ve got marshmallow on your chin,” he said.

  She started to lick it off.

  “Uh-uh-uh,” he said. “Allow me.” Holding her chin with one hand, he carefully thumbed away the sticky goo. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, my pleasure.”

  When he’d finished his s’more, Chase wiped his mouth with a napkin. “This takes me back, for sure. Thank you, Sylvie.”

  “Oh, I’m having fun, too.”

  “No, I mean it.” He looked suddenly serious. “The first couple of days here, stepping into the mall was like a punch in the gut. Now it’ll be better. I can tell.” He looked out at the closed gates, the orange-lit tile floor. “Now it’s a place, not a reminder of Mom being so sick.”

  “I’m glad, Chase.” Sylvie felt abruptly awful. She’d been so busy trying to get him to love the place, she’d forgotten about all the sadness he associated with Starlight Desert.

  A rustling inside the tent made them both turn.

  “Uh-oh, Dasher’s digging,” she said. “I can’t give the tent back damaged.” She dove after the dog, pulling him away from the zipper he was worrying with his teeth.

  “You little pill,” she said, putting him on her lap.

  Chase joined her inside the tent, lying on his side on the sleeping bag, his head braced on a palm. “You two look like you belong together.”

  “Don’t push it, Chase,” she said, but she was enjoying holding the puppy like this. She picked up the book. “So, one scary story before I go?”

  “Get comfortable, first.” He opened the bag and motioned for her to stretch out alongside him.

  She did and positioned the flashlight so she could read without holding it. With a sigh, Dasher curled up on the book.

  Laughing, she started to move him, but Chase stopped her. “You don’t need to read to me, Sylvie.” His eyes focused on her. “It’s late. If you want, you can sleep here.”

  “You know that’s not what would happen if I stayed. I might attack you like I did last night.”

  “We attacked each other, Sylvie. Mutual combustion. And I can’t get it out of my mind. I was late today partly because I missed my exit thinking about you.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “Jesus, Sylvie. I just confessed that you put me in a daze. No man gives up that kind of intel easily. I’m talking serious wimp factor.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about you, either.”

  “Yeah?” They were together in the dark again, horizontal this time. Much easier. Why was this wrong again?

  “How about I make you a s’more to go?” Chase pushed himself off the sleeping bag and out of the tent.

  “Great.” But she realized she was disappointed. She didn’t want to leave yet. She’d had more fun than she remembered ever having with a man. In the middle of the vandalism mess and the Black Friday promotion, with her job in limbo and the mall at risk, Sylvie had had a full-out blast.

  And she wasn’t done yet, dammit.

  She wanted the man who was busily making her a treat for the road just outside this tent.

  Why not? He wanted her. She wanted him. Why couldn’t they see where it went from here? Even as she tried to be sensible, to think this through, her desire became a river rushing toward a waterfall, swirling and spinning, picking up speed, taking the big leap.

  She slipped out of the tent. Chase turned to hold out the paper plate and she lunged at him, pushing him into the redwood bark, kissing him hard.

  He still held the paper plate in one hand, so she took it from him and set it on a chair, going for him again.

  He grabbed both her arms and held her away from him. “What are you doing?”

  “Attacking you. Can’t you tell?”

  “But we agreed this was a bad idea.” He looked so confused.

  “Denying ourselves makes the sex too important. We both have needs. Let’s meet them. Simple.” She leaned in to kiss him again, but he held her off a little longer. “What about…protection?”

  “I’m on the pill. Are you healthy, sex-wise?”

  “I’m good. But you’re not thinking straight, Sylvie. You—”

  She laid a finger to his lips. “My thoughts are crystal clear. This will be good for us, like—”

  “Please don’t say Pilates. I know you’re a woman with needs and all, but the thing is, I don’t stick around and I don’t get serious.”

  “You think that’s news? Let’s stop thinking and just do this.” She grabbed the hem of her shirt, whipped it over her head and flung it into the banana tree. That was so not like her. She sat there, breathing hard, hoping Chase would take it from here before she embarrassed herself to death.

  Chase focused his attention on her breasts. “Okay. I’ve officially stopped thinking.” He made short work of his uniform shirt, tossing it up with hers into the tree, then pulled her against him. “Sylvie,” he said into her hair.

  He unlatched her bra and removed it, holding her close, as if to protect her modesty, clearly sensing that whipping off her shirt had exhausted her vixen side.

  He kissed her, then looked at her. “You sure about this?”

  She nodded, so weak with lust she feared she’d faint and fall on her face in the decorative bark.

  “Good. Because if you weren’t, I’d have to change your mind.”

  THANK GOD. When Sylvie threw herself at him Chase had never caught anything more welcome. Now her lips were wet and welcoming, her nipples tight as beads against his palm, her breasts a soft weight.

  He wanted her so much, this determined woman with her womanly needs. He felt like a semi speeding downhill with no brakes. He knew he would crash, but it was worth every injury to be with this woman, to give her pleasure and take some for himself.

  She’d gone for him the same way she went after her job at Starlight Desert, with everything she had. And right now he was all hers.

  He hauled her back into the tent and got them both naked on the sleeping bag. She lay there, her skin pale and pretty, nearly glowing against the dark fabric.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, examining every inch of her—the delicate rise of her collarbone, the soft mounds of her breasts, the ridges of her ribs, the dip and swell across her hips, the soft blond curls below.

  He ran his fingers over a spray of beauty marks near her sternum, then traced a circle around her navel, her skin trembling beneath his fingers.

  She watched his hands, her breathing ragged, her fingers digging into his forearms. Every few seconds, she would lunge up to claim his mouth, as if to be certain this moment was real.

  Chase felt the same. This was like a shared dream he hoped would last all night. Her fingers found him, wrapping tight, sliding, squeezing, teasing.

  He released a shaky breath, then leaned down to take one nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over its peak, relishing her gasp and the way her shivers came in waves.

  “Oh,” she said. “This is so nice.”

  “Nice? I’m going for mind-blowing here.” He wanted to spread her legs and enter her, go after the sweet relie
f she’d made him burn for.

  “Yeah,” she said breathlessly, “that, too.” She shifted her body, led him to her center. She was so slick he slid inside easily, as if he belonged there. As if he were home.

  Her eyes widened with pleasure and she gripped his backside with both hands, urging him deeper. In her eyes, he caught flashes of light, a private electrical storm just for him.

  He stilled to let the pressure build, to let them feel how they were together, connected, the same current flowing through them both.

  She bent her knees and heaved her hips upward, asking for more. He pushed deeper and she inhaled. “Again,” she said on the exhale. “Do that again.”

  So he did. Again and again.

  She met each stroke and they began a sweet rhythm that built the heat between them like a bonfire that would incinerate a million marshmallows to ash.

  Braced on his elbows so he wouldn’t crush her, he lifted her upper body with his palms, reveling in the slide of her breasts against his chest. She tightened around him, powering forward, racing toward release.

  He raised his hips and plowed deep, urged on by her cries and gasps, hungry music that asked for all he could give.

  He’d had intense sex before, but this was Sylvie.

  Sylvie.

  Who knew his history, his family.

  Sylvie, who got it.

  Maybe he was carried away by the moment, but so what?

  “Chase,” she breathed in his ear, the sound full of relief and joy, as if he’d been away too long and finally returned.

  He smiled against her neck, feeling like he’d found the place he needed to be.

  He felt Sylvie quicken her pace and knew she was about to climax. He matched her speed, going after his own release. She shivered and gave a sharp cry, bucking up again and again, pulling him over the edge with her. He surged inside her, once, twice, and again.

  Spent, he collapsed onto his back, pulling her on top of him, holding her as he fought for air.

  “Your heart is pounding so hard,” she said, her eyes wide, her fingers against his chest.

  He pressed his palm against her sternum. “Yours, too. Feels like an entire Stomp performance going on in there.”