“You’re intimidated by Christmas?” he asked, playing dumb.
She punched his shoulder. “Very funny. It’s hard . . .”
Grant laughed. “Damned straight.” He pressed her hand to the front of his jeans, and she jumped as though she’d touched a hot iron.
Outrage, mixed with embarrassment and feminine curiosity, danced across her expressive features. “I’m being serious here,” she wailed. “We’ve spent two damned days building up to this. What if we’ve created a big, romantic fantasy and it amounts to nothing?”
He curled a strand of her hair around his finger, watching fascinated as it clung to his skin. “Are you afraid I’ll disappoint you?”
Her chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh. “No. The sex will be great. At least I think so,” she added with wry honesty.
He chuckled. “Then, what?”
She searched his eyes, hers big and dark gold, filled with doubts and fears and dreams. “I want this to be more than sex,” she admitted, her voice husky. “I need to know that this matters. It’s crazy . . . We just met. I don’t even know your middle name. But that’s my Christmas wish, Grant. That’s what I want.”
He traced the contours of her face with a shaky hand, his heart expanding like the Grinch’s at the end of the story. “Tyler,” he said softly. “My middle name is Tyler.” He kissed her slowly, tentatively, pretty certain the words wouldn’t come out right, but determined to show her with his body.
He lifted her and removed her turtleneck. Her pretty breasts were small and round and her raspberry-hued nipples begged for his touch. He played with them gently, pulling and tugging until they puckered into tight buds. Maddy’s eyes were closed, her breathing rough and unsteady.
He tugged her to her feet and divested her of shoes, socks, jeans and panties in short order. A less-hungry man might have stretched out the disrobing, but he was beyond such patience. He stripped off his own clothes, leaving only his navy boxers between him and her. He needed some flimsy help to keep from mounting her like a horny adolescent.
He slid her up onto a pillow so that her upper body was at an incline. He gripped her thighs and tugged them apart, revealing a narrow fluff of curly golden hair. His breath lodged in his throat. The delicate folds of soft, hidden flesh were glistening with the evidence of her arousal.
He lowered his head and used his whole tongue to stroke her. She tasted sweeter than any holiday treat. She cried out and bucked, but he held her down, thrusting his tongue inside her and using his finger where it mattered most to drive her higher and higher. Her orgasm, when it came, was powerful and beautiful to watch, her slender body quivering with pleasure.
He trembled, burying his face in her belly and holding her tightly until the last tremors faded away.
And then he started again.
* * *
Maddy was not prepared for a lover like Grant Monroe. He was insatiable, as though starving for the taste of her. He flipped her to her stomach and rubbed his cock up and down her spine, finally lodging it between her buttocks and stroking lightly back and forth against her damp skin.
He lifted her onto her knees, and she felt his hand part her, enter her, first one finger, then two and finally three. She was extremely sensitive, tender from her earlier orgasm. He knew exactly where to touch. He brushed her clitoris, and she came again, this time with his fingers deep inside her.
When she caught her breath, she rolled to her back, struggling to gain some kind of control. He sat back on his haunches, facing her, his long, thick penis rearing proudly against his abdomen. His eyes were hooded, glittering with intense emotion. His hands rested on his thighs. A pulse jumped at the base of his throat, and his broad shoulders were rigid.
She came up on her knees and pressed against him, breast to chest. Her hand slid between them to cup his balls, and a heavy shudder wracked his frame. “God, Maddy,” he ground out in an agonized voice.
She expanded her field of exploration, kissing him as she gripped his cock. Her tongue entered his mouth while her thumb toyed with the wetness at the eye of his eager shaft. He was trembling like a sailor in the throes of malaria.
She knelt to take him in her mouth, and he thrust her away almost roughly. “Next time,” he choked out. “I can’t bear it.”
His sudden movement tumbled her to her back again, and he was between her thighs before she could catch her breath. He reached for a condom, but she stopped him. “I’m on the pill . . . it’s okay.” He nodded tersely and lifted her legs to his shoulders, the blunt head of his cock pressing urgently to find entry. The position made her feel painfully vulnerable.
On his face she saw the violent struggle to hold back, and she arched her back, taunting him. “Don’t be gentle, dammit,” she cried, craving him with a need that was frightening. “I won’t break.”
He surged forward in one heavy thrust, burying himself deep in her vagina, probing and stretching and filling her almost unbearably. He paused to let her adjust to his size, his great chest heaving with his labored breathing.
Their eyes met, his slightly unfocused, hers filled with shock. Ripples of feeling clenched and clawed deep in her core. She squeezed him with inner muscles, exulting when her subtle motion made him groan. “Do it,” she challenged. “Take what you want. Let it go.”
He held perfectly still for maybe three seconds, and then with a moan of surrender, he began rocking in and out of her, withdrawing almost completely before surging deeper still, the cords in his neck standing out in relief and his clenched teeth bared.
He rode her hard, giving no mercy, his massive body held above hers, driving pistonlike toward a goal they each craved. Maddy loved it, loved him. He surrounded her, filled her. His scent filled her head. Her hands gripped his sweat-slicked shoulders as she felt her third orgasm rising inexorably. “Now, Grant, now,” she pleaded, her leg muscles aching.
He halted long enough to look in her eyes, his own filled with something that looked suspiciously like love. Quivering, his muscled arms keeping his weight from crushing her, he pressed a quick kiss on her throat. And then he shouted as his own climax roared over him and he came, deep inside her.
Five
Grant slumped on top of her, barely able to keep from crushing her beneath his weight. Every bone and muscle in his body had been vaporized, destroyed. He hadn’t known such pure physical pleasure existed.
He felt euphoric, ready to spout poetry, prepared to slay ferocious dragons for his lady-love.
His amazing lady-love squirmed, her voice breathless. “Air, Grant. I need air.”
He rolled to one side, muttering an apology as he nuzzled her breast and watched, fascinated, as the nipple tightened.
She laughed, her face bright with happiness, her eyes soft and sated. “I might need a little time before round two.”
They lay curled together, touching, stroking. In the background, Grandma got run over by a reindeer and silver bells began to chime. Grant lifted himself on one elbow. “Now?” he asked hopefully. He slid a thigh between her legs and began licking her rib cage.
She shoved his face away, laughing. “I’m ticklish,” she complained. “Behave, Mr. Monroe.”
He excused himself for long enough to clean up and tend to the fire, before returning to her side. When he slid between the covers, his bare feet touching hers, she squealed. “You’re freezing.”
“Then warm me up,” he replied, rolling her on top of him.
She wriggled down the length of his body like an erotic gymnast, stopping when her mouth found his cock. Already semierect, he went from zero to sixty within seconds of feeling her mouth swallow his length.
She was enthusiastic, and she was talented. He wasted half a minute on jealousy, wondering whom she’d practiced on, before his mind shut down. Her teeth scraped the underside of his shaft, and his brain went fuzzy. His cock screamed for release, but his brain wanted to be inside Maddy when he came.
With surprise on his side, he twisted and turned and
entered her from behind. It was a tight fit from this angle, each of them breathing heavily as they found their rhythm. He grasped her hips, loving the supple, firm feel of her butt. He grabbed a handful of her hair so he could see the side of her face. “Is this okay?” She was awfully silent, except for those little pants that were driving him crazy.
She wiggled her fanny, making him see stars. He reached beneath her and captured a breast, teasing the nipple. Maddy moaned.
He asked a second time. “Honey, do you like this?”
He leaned forward so he could reach underneath and stroke her directly. She cried out, her inner muscles squeezing him as she came, stealing the last of his control. He surged inside her warmth again and again, his question forgotten as he succumbed to the inevitable.
Minutes later, maybe hours, he pulled her, spoon fashion, against his chest and tucked the covers around them both.
* * *
When the gray light of dawn seeped into the cabin, Maddy stirred and yawned. Her cheeks heated as memories of the night before came out of nowhere, making her thighs clench. That was all real? As a dream, it would have merited an X-rating. Grant had wakened her three times during the night, each time his body hot and hard as he spread her legs and entered her.
Her curious fingers slid to his abdomen and skated lower. The man could give lessons to the Energizer Bunny. She contemplated her swollen and sore flesh and weighed it against the hunger that simmered unabated deep in her gut. No contest. She straddled him and gently lowered herself on his rigid length.
Each time she told herself the newness would wear off, that this coupling thing would become old hat. It hadn’t happened yet, but she was more than ready to keep testing her theory. She winced as she took him an inch deeper. Soaking in a hot bath might be a good idea.
He woke up a split second before she grounded herself on his morning erection. He blinked rapidly, his long, dark lashes and mussed hair making him look adorably sweet and vulnerable. He growled deep in his throat, and she scratched those last two adjectives. It was like waking a hungry lion.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, breathing heavily as she rotated her hips. “I started without you.”
He grunted. “So I see.” His powerful arms quivered as he lifted her by the waist and settled her on his mouth. Before she had a chance to miss his cock, he was tonguing her roughly, his thumbs parting her so he could reach her aching nerve endings. She came slowly, a rolling, cresting wave of pleasure that left her weak and spent. He showed no mercy.
He laid her carefully on her back and entered her while the last tremors of her release were still rippling. He was gentle this time, almost lethargic. His movements were so slow, she wanted to scream with frustration.
He bent his head, whispering urgent words, his breath tickling her ear. “Come for me, honey . . . one more time.”
“I can’t,” she wailed, petulant. “I’m exhausted.”
Another careful withdrawal and penetration. The achingly lazy movements rubbed her intimately. She shivered, wild with conflicting needs. “I’ve had enough,” she said. “I can’t stand this.”
He went perfectly still, his arms rigid, his dark eyes filled with guilt. “God, Maddy. I’m sorry.”
He tried to leave her and she grasped his hips wildly, leaving red scratches. She bit his shoulder. “Ride me hard. Don’t make me wait.”
His compliance made them both a little crazy.
In the aftermath, the room was quiet, quiet enough to hear the steady drip, drip, drip of melting snow.
Maddy felt . . . Well, she wasn’t sure what she felt. She was afraid to look at Grant. Her behavior made her wince. When she stood up, he didn’t stop her. She went to the bathroom to shower and change, ruefully donning the same old clothes, but glad at least to have the other pair of undies she had washed and left to dry on the towel bar. She brushed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail with the same old rubber band. Until now she had never realized how much she took her nice wardrobe and her many toiletries for granted.
She heard the phone ring, the unfamiliar sound jarring in the cozy little cabin. Curious, she hovered in the living room, listening as Grant answered and his deep voice filled with warmth and affection.
The person on the other end was clearly someone of importance. She pushed back a curtain and gazed bleakly at the melting snow. The thermometer on the porch measured forty-five degrees. The thaw had arrived with a vengeance. She wanted to cry and scream and bawl like a baby. She and Grant needed more time. They hadn’t even begun to—
Well, that was the kicker. They had begun something, she just wasn’t sure what it was. As he was making his good-byes, she casually entered the kitchen, as though she hadn’t been avidly straining to hear his every word.
“That was my sister, Beth,” he said, his eyes alight with happiness. “The rug rats are missing me. They want me to drive up for a late dinner tonight.”
Her heart thudded as it hit the floor. Her numb lips twisted in a smile. “You should go. My apartment’s in Charlottesville. You could drop me there if you don’t mind.”
His smile faded. “What’s this?” he asked, his words laced with tender concern. “You look like you’re about to cry.”
“Christmas is for family, Grant. You need to get there as quickly as you can.” She smiled, but it was an effort.
He held her shoulders. “I want you to come with me.”
She shook her head violently. “It wouldn’t be right. Your family wants to spend time with you, not a stranger you met three days ago.”
Temper flashed in his eyes, taking her by surprise. “Don’t do this, Maddy,” he ground out, his teeth clenched.
She shrugged, the ache in her chest threatening to consume her. “The magic is over, Grant. The snow is melting. We both knew we would have to go back eventually. You can’t shut out the world forever.”
Grant listened, incredulous, as his nebulous dreams turned to ashes. She had cut him loose so fast he was having trouble making sense of it all. He tried one last time. “Then we’ll both stay here. That was my original plan, anyway. The family will understand.”
She shook her head a second time, and now the regret in her eyes was no longer veiled. “Christmas is for families,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re lucky to have people who love you so much. Go to them. They need you. It’s important.”
She walked out of the kitchen. He stood there for long moments, his arms hanging at his sides. Old Santa Claus was a mean son of a bitch—to give a present and then snatch it away. If he found the fat old guy in a dark alley, he’d beat the stuffing out of him.
Anger swept in, masking the dull pain. He wouldn’t beg. It took two people to make a relationship, and he didn’t need a woman who couldn’t even last through the first tough spot. He flashed back for a moment to an image of Maddy sprawled by the fire, her lips curved in a smile of invitation. His throat closed up, and he swallowed hard. How had this soured so quickly?
* * *
They didn’t speak after that. Since Maddy had very little of her own to clean up, she finished zipping her backpack and then began tidying the rest of the cabin. There were blankets to fold, dishes to wash and dirty laundry to be bundled into a garbage bag. She found Grant’s cooler on the back porch and unloaded the few remaining perishables from the fridge. The other food she tucked in a cardboard box.
She had no idea what to do about the Christmas tree, but she unplugged the lights and, as an afterthought, retrieved the poem she’d tucked in the branches. Somehow she doubted that Grant would appreciate it now. He was so angry with her, but she knew in her heart she was right. He needed to be with his family. And as for his impulsive invitation . . . Well, it was tempting. But imagining the questions about their relationship made her cringe. Three days? They would think Grant had lost his mind. And they might be right.
He was busy draining the pipes and stacking all the firewood he had cut onto the porch. By noon the tem
perature had climbed to the lower fifties. He finally came inside, and when she looked at him inquiringly, he handed her the small package that had been under the tree. “Merry Christmas,” he said, his eyes shuttered.
She opened it, her mouth curving in a smile when she saw what it was. With a few pencil strokes, Grant had captured Van Gogh’s mournful eyes and the dog’s delight at being in Maddy’s lap. She looked up to thank him, but he had disappeared again. She bit her lip and sighed. Feeling an unutterable sadness, she tucked the small drawing inside a book in her pack for safekeeping.
They left shortly after, having exchanged no more than a dozen words since morning. Van Gogh slumbered in the backseat.
The winding gravel road leading down the mountain was slightly dangerous but not impassable. The only real trouble spots were places in the shade where not as much snow had melted. Maddy thought a couple of times that the Jeep might get stuck, but in each instance, Grant wrestled with the wheel until they were moving forward again. At the base of the mountain, the gravel surface gave way to pavement, and soon the little two-lane road led to the interstate.
It took just over two hours to get to Charlottesville. When they reached the outskirts of the city, Grant slowed and asked for directions, his voice gruff. When they pulled up in front of her apartment complex, Maddy grabbed her bag and prepared to jump out. She was more than ready to escape the awkward silence.
Grant stopped her, keeping the doors locked. “Not so fast. I’m coming upstairs with you.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but the glare on his face silenced her. At the door she had to fumble deep in her pack to find the house key. As they went inside, stale air made her wrinkle her nose.
She dropped her backpack on a chair and faced Grant, her stomach churning with nerves. “Thanks for rescuing me,” she said, forcing a lightness into her voice she didn’t feel.
He ignored her glib comment. Slowly, he gave himself a tour of her small apartment, pausing to pick up a photograph here and there, a CD, a knickknack. She trailed after him. He wandered down the hall and found her bedroom. After a cursory look inside, he moved on to her office.
By Firelight Page 7
