The Rock Star's Christmas Reunion: contemporary holiday romance (A Charisma series novel, The Connollys Book 1)

by Heather Hiestand

  Chapter Twelve

  Yakima returned to Bax’s house an hour later, her trunk full of dog supplies. She was still shaking her head over the five hundred dollars Bax had had just sitting in the top drawer of that crazy expensive antique. How much money did he have? He was such a mix of money-casual and robbery-paranoid. A memory of the first time she’d seen him after his return surfaced as she turned off the engine, how suspicious he’d been of her.

  He seemed to want to use security systems and dogs to keep him safe, while not taking his own precautions. That seemed reckless to her. His risk-taking, dreaming soul needed different challenges than hers did.

  A car drove down the street and braked. She glanced in her rearview mirror and saw a police car. Did she look suspicious? She turned off her lights and slowly got out of the car after she popped the hood. The police car drove off.

  She grabbed the large crate and tugged it out of the car, then trudged up to the porch, her feet feeling for slippery spots. Tony must have left, off to rescue the Husky.

  Bax opened the door before she made it to the bell.

  “Trunk’s full,” she invited.

  He took the crate from her and set it on the floor, then pushed his feet into slip-on work boots and came out behind her. “Did you get everything?”

  “Yes, you won’t need to leave the house.”

  They went down the steps. “I pulled up instructions on the internet. Looks like I shouldn’t for a few days. Need to get him used to me.”

  “Merry Christmas,” she said enthusiastically.

  “It’s going to be a Blue Christmas,” he said with a wry grin.

  “Where is the dog, anyway?”

  “He’s in the dining room. I figured it was the safest room on the main floor.”

  “With that white carpet? Okay, let’s get everything else you need.” They went outside and emptied her trunk. She gave him what little remained of his pizza money, and he stuffed it back in the drawer.

  “I’m going to tear it out anyway. There’s a couple of stains now, from my party. It’s not a good choice for that room.” They spent the next hour making Blue a comfortable home in his new crate, and set out his water and food dishes, with Bax carefully measuring out the food with a kitchen scoop. The dog stayed close to Bax, ignoring Yakima. He probably sensed she was uncomfortable, even if she had been his rescuer.

  Eventually, he seemed settled enough.

  “Hungry?” Bax asked.

  “Starved,” Yakima admitted, suddenly realizing she was, as she watched Blue crunch his food. “Do you have anything to eat around here?”

  “Not really,” Bax admitted. “And you spent my pizza money.”

  “Bread? Cheddar cheese? Butter?” she asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “Let’s check it out. You’d be perfectly happy with a grilled cheese.” She pulled him into the kitchen, and he kept his hand in hers as she hunted for the half block of cheese she’d seen on the back of a shelf.

  “The bread is only two days expired,” he said, holding up a loaf of whole grain bread.

  “It’s probably fine. No mold, right?”

  “No mold,” he agreed.

  “Are you going to let go of my hand so I can make it?” she asked.

  “Hmmm.” He stared into her eyes. “I don’t want to, but I’m starved.”

  “What were you going to eat?” she asked.

  His gaze moved to her lips. Instinctively, she parted them. The felt dry, so she licked across her lower lip. Bax groaned.

  “I’m a starving man, Yakima,” he said. “You do not want to know how long it’s been since I had sex.”

  “I’m hoping at least a couple of weeks,” she said.

  “It’s been sixteen days since we met. I’ve been counting.” Still holding her hand, he used his other to stroke his thumb across her jaw, to her chin.

  “So? Has it been that long?”

  “So much longer. Months.”

  “Such self-control.” Honestly, she was surprised, given Remy’s persistence and his female-enticing skills.

  “I’m done with the casual stuff. I had those years. You do dumb things. Sleep with fans, date your opening act, groupies, all that crap. Once I cleaned up my act, living my life sober, everything had to have more meaning, you know?”

  She nodded. “I get that. You might as well live your best life.”

  His thumb moved up her lip. He feathered across, a light touch that made her press her lips together. He tickled her two lower front teeth with the tip of his thumb. She bit, gently, in retaliation. She hadn’t meant to take him into her mouth, but he’d set off a lot of nerve endings.

  “How about you?” he asked.

  “I was never a rock star,” she said ruefully. “Just a small town girl, with the attendant minimal options for boyfriends. It gets really incestuous, too. Amanda and Jess and I, over the course of a dozen years, have traded guys. Unfortunately that means we know them all too well before we even start dating.”

  “Did you date Tony?” he asked, too casually.

  She patted his chest. “It seemed like he had a bro crush on you.”

  “Just star struck. He seems like a nice guy.” He trailed off.

  “No, I never dated him. He was probably 4H oriented, and that was never my thing.”

  “What was your thing, back then?” His fingers left her lips and moved to her neck, then swept gently along her collarbone.

  “I liked to bike and cook. Pretty boring.”

  “Very wholesome,” he corrected. “Kept you in good shape, gave you a career. Seems successful to me.”

  “So you like boring girls who ride bikes and cook?”

  He held up a finger on his free hand. “Like to eat.” He held up a second finger. “I like to be ridden.”

  She bent forward, trying to contain a burst of laughter. His questing fingers caught in the collar of her shirt and pulled her close. She tilted, turning, trying to figure out how they’d become as tangled as two people playing Twister, but her lips brushed his. Not even on purpose. But doing that, was like setting a match to a scrap of paper. Burn, baby, burn.

  He pulled his hand from her shirt and reached around her back, both arms sliding down her rib cage, pulling them together like a zipper sliding the wrong way. Electricity coursed down her hips and butt when he caressed her there, softening her stance. One of his legs fit between hers perfectly when he shifted.

  His lips lifted. “Still starved?”

  Her body didn’t remember hunger for food. A different kind of need had taken over. “I want,” she started, but her mind blanked. Instead, her fingers took control and she pulled his shirt up. Without meaning to, she groaned when she saw the rock hard abs exposed. He let her pull the shirt off his head and arms.

  “You’ve gained a little weight back since coming here.” She licked her lips and let her fingers touch him again. His pecs seemed more developed but her eyes went to the broken heart tattoo. She didn’t like it. Bax shouldn’t have a broken heart.

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “You were underweight.”

  “Camera ready.” His fingers flexed around her butt cheeks. She tilted away instinctively, but that brushed her sensitive areas against his thigh. She couldn’t hold back a soft moan.

  “You’re starting to look healthy in real life, Bax. That’s more important.”

  He nuzzled her hair. She was about done with this foreplay stuff. Taking charge, her hands went to the belt on his jeans. She made quick work of it, stripping them off until he wore nothing but black cotton boxers and those silly striped socks.

  “Christmas sexy,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “The socks. They only work in December, but they do work.”

  He glanced down at his feet. His mouth tilted in a lopsided smile. “You’d best be rocking some candy-striped panties if you want to roll with me.”

  She pulled off her shirt first, exposing a rather basic padded floral b
ra. Her jeans came next. She watched the breath become stuck in Bax’s throat and she pushed them down.

  “You hide your hips,” he said. “I hadn’t noticed before. That tiny waist, those gorgeous hips.”

  “Child-bearing,” she corrected. “They call them child-bearing hips.”

  “You should wear shorter tops,” he decided, his hands spanning her waist. “So I can see the merchandise.”

  She looked down at herself. Nope. The bra and panties did not match. “Red panties. Not candy striped.”

  “At least they are seasonally appropriate.” He turned her around. “Just checking the cheeks, babe. No inappropriate phrases or anything.”

  “I left the ‘Daddy’s Girl’ panties at home,” she joked. “And the ‘Tuesday’ ones were eaten by my washer.”

  “It happens.” His gaze seemed fixed on the panties.

  “They really are pretty basic,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  “So are mine, but what lies beneath is anything but basic.”

  “So you’re that in love with your penis, huh,” she teased.

  He blinked. “I meant your panties.”

  “Ohhh.” She smirked at him.

  “Your stomach just growled.”

  “Way to make it about me again. Appreciate it.”

  “Just saying we shouldn’t delay.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “I’m waiting for you to invite me upstairs.”

  “So you don’t want me to bend you over the table, or lift you up to the counter, or any of the other detailed plans I’ve made for you in the kitchen these past couple of weeks?”

  Her legs started to tremble. The cold? Arousal? She couldn’t say. “But you don’t have condoms in here, right?”

  “A flaw in the plan, definitely. Guess we can’t do it on the stairs either.”

  The pulse in her neck thumped. “I’m not on anything, so no.”

  “A condom kind of girl?”

  “Condoms are best.”

  “Other than abstinence.”

  She made a face. “Welcome to my usual life.”

  He glanced down her body with a self-satisfied grin on her face. “Totally selfish of me to know I have you all to myself. And I’m glad you have the self-respect to insist you had me all to yourself.”

  She heard his phone beep. “I’ve been around here enough to recognize your text message notifier.”

  He stared down at his jeans. “Let’s not get off the subject of us for once, okay?”

  Relief froze her face. They weren’t going to stop this time? “You can let your phone go?”

  “Absolutely.” He held out his hand. “You and me, upstairs. Finding some condoms.”

  “You mean there’s a possibility you don’t have any?” Her voice sounded faint. Rock stars always had condoms, right?

  “More a matter of locating them, I hope.” He wiggled his fingers, reminding her she hadn’t taken his hand yet.

  “Should we check on Blue?”

  “He has food and water and a new room to check out. You even bought him some dog toys. I think he’s good for a while.”

  She nodded. “Then we should stop procrastinating.”

  “Why are we procrastinating?”

  She bit her lip. “I think it’s because this is important.”

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. His head bent toward hers and he whispered in her ear. “You’re right, but it’s still natural.” His nose rubbed her ear.

  The sensation sent electricity down and across. Her nipples sparked with heat and the rest of her wanted to find his leg again. But there were better parts of him to writhe against.

  “Condoms,” she said, then swallowed hard.

  “Condoms,” he agreed, and pushed her out of the kitchen and to the stairs.

  Ahead of him, she walked into his bedroom. She’d never been in it before. The designer had made it a blank, soothing canvas. Dark walls, cream, lined curtains, natural linens on the bed. All soft surfaces. No art.

  “It’s not Christmas in here.” She lifted the straps of her bra off her shoulders, then unclipped the back.

  He stared at her breasts. “I guess not. This room isn’t getting any attention.”

  “Or action.”

  “Not until now.” He kept his eyes on her chest. When she glanced down, she saw the tent in his boxers and her legs wobbled. “Where would I be if I was a box of condoms?”

  “Did you buy some here? Bring some when you moved?” Her gaze darted around the room. “There’s not much in here, so not many places they could be.”

  “You take the drawers, I’ll take the closet.”

  She searched the two one-drawer nightstands next to his bed. Nothing. Then she went to his tall chest of drawers. Nothing there either. His neatly folded clothes hid nothing underneath. In desperation, she got down on her hands and knees and checked under the bed. Nope.

  He came out of the closet. “Nothin— Jeez, Yakima, are you trying to kill me?”

  She backed out from under the bed, aware that he was staring at her ass in the tiny red panties. They definitely didn’t cover everything. “Just trying to keep you interested.”

  When she looked at him, he had his hands to his forehead. “We do not have condoms.”

  “Bathroom?”

  He gave her the two thumbs up. “Medicine cabinet. Don’t move.”

  Did he really want her doggy-style on the carpet for their first time together? Maybe the second time, or third. Her mind swam with the possibilities. But, she was getting cold, so she got back to her feet.

  Just as her hand touched the velvety gray blanket covering his bed, he reappeared with a box in his hand. “Smart girl. You know my house better than I do.”

  “I got lucky.”

  His lips curved. “That was the plan, finally. But you moved.”

  The words shot out of her mouth before she could edit herself. “Punish me?”

  He stalked forward, a predator sensing prey. “You like that sort of thing?”

  She giggled. Really, her body was in the most awkward position, one hand down, half bent over the bed, breasts swaying, skin goose-pimpling, naked except for her panties and socks. She glanced down and saw he’d kicked his off. Her gaze travelled up and she saw that his socks weren’t the only thing that had departed. Yep. The boxers, too. And he was ready for that condom, his penis jutting arrogantly, thick, long, and dark with arousal.

  “My mouth just went dry,” she whispered, and went back to her knees. He hadn’t been demanding doggy-style, he’d just expect, and rightly so, that she’d have to worship when she saw him. Black boxers really could camouflage the magnificence within.

  She held out her hand, beckoning him forward with demanding fingers. He stared down at her, the box slack in his hand. Since he didn’t seem to understand, maybe because all the blood had gone south, she reached around one of his lean, well-muscled thighs, and pulled him closer.

  The first thing she did was lick. Oh, yes, he had beaded there, lubricating himself to enter her. She tasted the fresh, salty essence then worked her way over his generously flared head, swirling her tongue around his sensitive flesh.

  He groaned and she heard a soft plop as the box dropped from his hand onto the bed. Liking his response, she slid in deeper, her hands stroking up his thighs. She squeezed his ass, then reached for his scrotum, massaging the twin sacs until he shuddered. He sat down abruptly, then set his hand against the back of her skull.

  She sucked in her cheeks and took him deep. Where she expected him to pull her hair, or try to force her to take him even deeper into her mouth, instead he stroked her, playing with the strands of her hair. Was Bax Connolly a gentle lover? Her thighs dampened with the thought. As much as she liked him in her mouth, she wanted him between her legs even more.

  But he was so deliciously into it. He grunted and his hips began to move. She had one hand on the small of his back, and despite the chill of the room, sweat broke there. She risked
glancing up at him and saw his eyes were closed, his being completely open to sensation. It reminded her of his guitar face, from that brief time when he performed solo live. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t deny either of them this pleasure. Taking her hand from his back, she shifted it to the base of his erection and began to stroke what she couldn’t reach with her mouth.

  He gasped as her strong chef’s hand milked him, while her tongue swirled lovingly around his tip. When she stroked a finger behind his sac, he cried out and convulsed. His essence flowed into her mouth. She swallowed him down and kept sliding along him until he quieted.

  Eventually he stilled, his hand leaving her hair and descending on his thigh. Though he was still hard, she pulled away, resting at his feet.

  “I wasn’t expecting that,” he murmured. “What brought that on?”

  “You’re too pretty to resist.” She tried to smile, but her jaw was too tired. Even now his penis was such a monster. Patting his knee, she rose to her feet. “I’m going to get some water.”

  “I can get it.”

  “You just,” she wiggled her fingers, “enjoy the afterglow.”

  In the bathroom, she stared into the mirror. One girl, with curiously shining eyes and a very swollen mouth. Her hair hung tangled over her shoulders. She washed her hands then pushed her hair back and knotted it. When she cupped her hands under the faucet and drank, she wondered how long it would take before Bax was back in business, and if they would be interrupted before he had time to give her what her body craved.

  She walked back in, aware of the sway of her own hips, her unfettered breasts, her hair brushing against the nape of her neck. His scent perfumed the air, but she wondered if he could smell her, too. His hands had been in her hair and she was so wet.

  His head lifted when she stood just a couple of feet away from him. Uncertain of where to put her hands, she just waited. And pulled off her panties, very slowly.

  “Now you’re hesitant?” he asked, laughter in his voice.

  She glanced down at his erection. It had relaxed about halfway. Not that she had vast experience with which to judge these things. She admired his abs, worked her gaze up his tattoos again, then met his eyes.