He collapsed atop her, knowing he shouldn’t. He should move.
Yeah, he should do that. Someday.
“Des?”
Now he was hearing voices. At least they knew his name. “Mmm?”
“Why wouldn’t you make love to me before? With Cole?” She rushed ahead. “I thought…God, I thought so many things. But I want to hear the truth from you.”
Somehow he summoned the strength to roll over and draw her into his arms. She belonged there. If he hadn’t known that before tonight, he was damn certain of it now.
“That guy Johnny who raised me? He was my mom’s best friend. After she died, I ended up with him and his wife. They divorced when I was in college and he died a couple of years back.”
She stroked his chest. “I’m so sorry. What about your dad?”
“He wasn’t really in my life. He had another family, and they took his focus.”
This time she didn’t say anything.
“They met at work. She was his receptionist, and he used his advantage to get exactly what he demanded from her. I was the unwanted consequence.” The words pressed on his chest, imprinted there like a tattoo he’d never wanted. “She never got over their relationship. Over losing him. Then I lost her too soon too.”
She was quiet for so long that he craned his neck to take a good look at her. She was staring at him, eyes wide and wet. “You could’ve told me, Des.”
Shaking his head, he let out an abbreviated laugh. “How?”
“Just like this.”
“Yeah, after I’ve been inside you.” He gazed at the ceiling. “I tried, Wen. I really did. It was stupid, thinking that with all we’d done I could still pretend I wasn’t like him. I did everything I could to make it clear to you it had nothing to do with your job, and I never took advantage all the way—” He pinched his nose, unsurprised it didn’t relieve the pressure gathering in his head. “I lied to myself. Worse, I lied to you.”
“You did? I must’ve missed it.” She crossed her arms over his chest and leaned forward so that her hair trailed over his skin.
He couldn’t stop the shudder. God, he had so many plans for that hair and her mouth before the night was through…
If she didn’t tell him to go to hell.
“You didn’t lie, Des, you just didn’t tell me everything. And that’s okay, because I didn’t tell you everything either.” She pulled back, retreating even further when he pinned her with his stare. “Maybe we should hit pause right here.”
His stomach knotted. When she was nervous or upset, the southern in her voice grew more pronounced. Usually he couldn’t get enough of it. At the moment, the rich, silky tones only increased his need to command her to tell him every secret she had.
He was no expert, but he figured that meant he was in love with her. Or possibly a burgeoning psycho.
Inhaling deeply, he turned her face toward his. Whatever it was, he’d face it with her. He’d be damned if he gave her up now. “Tell me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking him out. “I’m in love with you.”
****
At least he didn’t laugh. She supposed she couldn’t complain at his lack of response, or how he went as still as a corpse at her side. He was still her boss, after all. They had their working relationship to think about, and despite his revelations, he might not be ready to take things public. Or maybe he just didn’t care for her that way.
She could handle it. She’d handled much worse.
“I don’t expect you to love me back.” Wendy reached for his hand. His skin was hot to the touch. “I just needed you to know. Every time I was with you and Cole, I wanted it to be just us. You and me, like it was tonight.” She glanced around her woefully tiny bedroom and sighed. “Though I wish we’d been at your place. This bed is one Des-powered thrust away from collapse.”
He laughed, and her tension seeped away. Well, most of it. “I like your house.” He kissed her collarbone with little serpentine flicks of his tongue. “We still have a tree to put up, you know, and Chinese to eat. I also might’ve gotten you a gift.”
“I don’t have anything for you,” she protested.
Grinning, he caressed her still sensitive pussy. “Oh yes, you do. Santa says thank you.”
When he rolled away from her and reached for his clothes, she made her peace with her revelation. Whatever happened after tonight, she would be fine. She felt lighter and heavier, all at once. If she hated him just a little for his honor in not even bothering to pretend to love her, she’d get over it eventually.
Getting over stuff was one of her new skills. Along with her speedy typing and her skillful cock sucking, she was on her way to becoming a damn dynamo.
They decorated her tree and scarfed down the Chinese while they watched an all-night Christmas movie fest. He caught her eyeing his gift and plopped it in her lap, making her open it despite her complaints.
“You shouldn’t have done this.” She pulled on the ribbon and gave into her urge to shake the box. It barely rattled. She thumbed up the lid, biting her lip. “How about I buy you lunch next week—” She fell silent, her mouth rounding. “Oh.”
“I know you said you didn’t like music boxes, but I wanted to try to change your mind. Or at least maybe improve your opinion.” He popped the lid of the carved crystal box, unveiling a small skater on a pond who did figure eights in front of a charmingly decorated house to I’ll Be Home For Christmas.
God, she was getting misty again. What the heck was going on with her hormones?
She blinked rapidly and smiled. “It doesn’t sound tinny.”
“No. Took some doing to find one that didn’t in a shop that was still open on Christmas Eve. I got lucky.” He gripped her fingers and made her look at him. “You don’t like it.”
“You’re right, I don’t like it—I love it.” She grinned and kissed his scruffy jaw. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Maybe it was the way his eyes twinkled or the lateness of the hour, but an explanation tumbled forth before she thought to stop it. “My dad used to buy them for me. He gave me one every Christmas.”
“I didn’t see them in your room.”
She glanced down at the skater, still moving in methodical circles. “They’re in boxes, packed away. I haven’t been able to stand looking at them for so long.”
“If this is too painful for you—”
“No. No,” she repeated, rising. “In fact, I want to show you one of the others he gave me. I think you’d like it.”
He accepted the hand she extended and stood beside her. “Show me.”
They ended up looking at all ten of her music boxes. He didn’t seem bored by the accompanying stories and even helped her dust each one off and clear a bookshelf to display them. It was awfully crowded, but at least they weren’t in boxes anymore.
No matter what happened between them, she had him to thank for that.
Just before three, they crawled into her bed and took their sweet time tearing up the sheets she’d neatly remade. With her body warm from his, she dropped deeply into sleep, smiling at the weight of his arm on her belly.
The sound of knocking jerked Wendy up on her elbows. Another knock, louder this time. Blearily, she swung her head around to search for the source.
Shit. Fuck. Damn. Someone was out in the hall.
She snatched the sheet and held it over her bare breasts as she shot a glance at Des, who was happily sawing them off.
“Hang on,” she called out, scrambling up so fast that she caught her foot in the comforter on her way to the cold hardwood floor. “One more minute.”
Too late. The door was already opening.
Just as she glimpsed her mom and aunt’s shocked expressions, she realized that her graceless tumble off the bed had bared her lover’s impressive morning wood for all to see.
“Merry Christmas,” she muttered.
Chapter VIII
To her mom’s credit, she didn’t frea
k out at finding a strange man in her supposedly single daughter’s bed. Aunt Gert was a harder sell, wailing about violating the sanctity of marriage and such, but her mom got her settled down and out of the house before she shattered any windows.
Then it was just Mrs. Stanton, Wendy, and Des—who’d yet to stop grinning despite being ogled by two senior citizens before breakfast.
And his secretary. His secretary had definitely done her share of ogling too.
Since her mom was feeling good, she made them a breakfast of whole wheat waffles and turkey sausage. Discovering Des was a vegan made her mom’s eyes glint. The one thing she’d disliked about Wendy’s dad was his refusal to give up hunting. Des’s love of animals definitely erased any lingering effects from finding him naked in Wendy’s bed, though once she’d learned who he was she hadn’t been too upset. She knew how Wendy felt about him.
Hell, from the way she was glowing that morning, the mailman could’ve figured it out.
“Wendy never stops talking about you,” Mrs. Stanton said, ignoring Wendy’s plaintive groan. “You’re every bit as handsome as she said.”
Des continued sipping his coffee. He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by that morning’s events. “Your daughter’s too kind.”
“Not too kind. Wendy’s just grateful as all get out for everything you’ve done for us. She’s downright effusive about you. You’ve changed our lives for the better, son. Sweet Mary, you even brought us a beautiful little tree.” She shocked the hell out of Wendy by getting up to kiss Des flush on the mouth. “Thank you so much.”
Though Des smiled and returned her embrace, his jaw had gone hard and tight. “Wendy’s a wonderful secretary and an even better person. You raised a terrific daughter, Mrs. Stanton.”
“Call me Noreen.” With that, she shuffled away from the table with her cup of tea. She probably had no clue about the stink bomb she’d just set off in the center of the kitchen.
From Des’s expression, he was already choking on the stench.
“Look, I can explain—” Wendy began the moment they were alone.
“Don’t.” He tossed his napkin on the table and stalked to the window. It was snowing outside and looked as pretty as a damn postcard. Inside all she could feel was the arctic chill.
She traced her finger over the wet spot on the table from her glass of orange juice. “You knew I feel grateful to you. You can’t be that surprised.”
He didn’t speak for what felt like an eternity. “No. I’m not.”
“Then?”
The hunch of his shoulders might’ve convinced her he was cold if the apartment hadn’t been as hot as the surface of Venus. “I thought as much, but to have your mom say it is different.”
“What are you talking about?”
He turned to face her, his eyes more turbulent than she’d ever seen them. “You’re not really in love with me. You just think you are because I helped you out.”
Clearly, she was going to have to stand up for this conversation. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I did, but you’re talking nonsense.” She walked over to him and skewered her nail in his chest. He didn’t even wince. His pain receptors had likely gone into hibernation from all her scratching last night. “Am I grateful for all you’ve done for me and my mama? Hell yeah. You didn’t have to be so sweet to us. To me.”
His stubborn nod made her want to kick him. “Gratitude and love are easy to mix up.”
“Don’t make me kick you in the nuts on Christmas morning, Des. Because so help me, Jesus, if you don’t let me finish, I will.”
He didn’t smile, but he did gesture for her to continue.
“None of that made me fall in love with you. I didn’t fall for my accountant who got me those extra deductions that saved me a grand last year. I didn’t fall for my garbageman when he said he’d take our old dresser even though the guidelines said it was too big. I freaking fell in love with you because you make me laugh without ever making me cry.” She swallowed over the rising lump in her throat. “At least not yet.”
He stroked her trembling lower lip. She couldn’t stand how emotional he made her, though it was possible that was part of the whole love thing. “What about Cole?”
“What about him?”
“Are you grateful to him too?” he asked quietly.
“Of course,” she snapped. “But I don’t love him. I only love you, you dolt.”
Again he didn’t speak. But he smiled, so slow and wide that it teased out her own smile in response. “I believe you.”
“As you should.”
“I do.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “And I love you too.”
Before she had a chance to whoop and holler her joy, he drew back and gripped her upper arms. His face was even more serious than before. “Will you start ripping off the days of my calendar again?”
“You noticed I stopped?”
“Of course I did. I had no clue what day was which anymore.”
Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his waist. He was so warm and sturdy and God, he made her feel safe. And happy. So very happy. “I didn’t want the days to pass so I stopped tearing the pages off. Every one that went by I knew we were closer to being finished.”
“We won’t ever be finished.” He ran his hand down the length of her hair. “In fact, I think we should take this upstairs.”
“With my mom in the living room?”
He only grinned. “The TV’s on loud. Besides, she’s already seen my equipment. Why not hear it at work making you moan too?”
“Ugh!” But she laughed as he dragged her toward the doorway.
At the foot of the stairs, she stopped him with an impish smile. “Wait. I have one more question.”
“What’s that?”
She leaned close to his ear and spoke in a whisper. “What did Cole name my…pussy?” There, she’d said it. And she hadn’t even burst into hysterical giggles.
But Des didn’t notice her inner triumph, because he was too busy laughing. “Sorry. He never told me.” With a wink, he chucked her chin. “Guess you’ll have to ask him first thing on Monday when he gets back.”
“Maybe I’ll just name your penises instead. Secret names that I’ll only share with Van.” As soon as she mentioned her friend’s name, she frowned. “What are we going to tell her?”
“The truth. We’re a couple and that won’t change anything at work.” His expression softened and her knees literally went weak. “No more hiding, baby.”
She fought not to do a booty dance but it was pretty much a lost cause. She added in one of her improvised carols as she jumped from stair to stair.
When he made a grab for her, she squealed and darted ahead with him hot on her heels. They had a ton of celebrating left to do.
This year, Christmas frigging rocked.
THE END
About Cari Quinn
USA Today bestselling author Cari Quinn saves the world one Photoshop file at a time in her job as a graphic designer. At night, she writes sexy romance, drinks a lot of coffee and plays her music way too loud. When she’s not scribbling furiously, she’s watching men’s college basketball, reading excellent books and causing trouble. Sometimes simultaneously.
Visit Cari at http://www.cariquinn.com
Other Books by Cari Quinn
Chapter 1
Jack had tied her up again.
Debra smiled. This was getting to be a habit on special occasions.
Ah, well, it only made them more special.
“I see you smiling,” said the gorgeous hunk of fun she’d married. “You’re awake.”
“Yep, I’m awake.” She glanced at his beautiful naked body standing beside their bed. “Looks like you are, too.”
Jack’s cock twitched. He was always awake in the morning. Whether or not they had time to take care of it depended on their busy schedules. But today was a day off. December twenty-second. No one did business three days before Chris
tmas.
Well, of the professional kind. She and Jack were definitely about to get down to some kind of business.
“What can I say, Deb?” Jack traced a finger over her shoulder and down her arm. “I can’t help it when I’m around you. You turn me on, babe.”
“Good.” She licked her lips, knowing what that did to Jack. “So are we going to do something about these or not?” She tugged on her restraints—and felt an answering tug in her pussy. She’d never get tired of making love with Jack. The man was talented physically. And emotionally… They’d connected on that level from the first moment they’d met.
“Nah, I don’t think I’ll do anything with them.” He flicked one of the scarves they now kept in the bedside table and had ever since he’d first put them there a few months ago after her birthday morning “celebration.” These scarves had gotten a lot of use since then. Flag Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day, Secretary’s Day—both she and Jack had secretaries so it seemed like a reason to celebrate—every major and minor holiday in between. Amazing how many holidays one could find when properly motivated to look.
“So then what are you going to do with them, Jack?” Her voice was husky—an early morning thing usually, but when Jack looked at her like that, it was for a whole different reason.
“I’m going to leave them right where they are.”
She liked where they were. She loved being at Jack’s mercy—he was so merciful. Always putting her out of her agony… well, eventually. “Good because then you’ll have to do all the work if you want me to suck you off.”
She bit her lip to keep from laughing when his cock came to full attention. She shouldn’t laugh. Jack was very secure in himself—with good reason—but a sudden burst of laughter might shake his confidence just a bit, even if she’d only be laughing because of how utterly easy it was to play him. She knew how to push every one of his buttons.
Like this one…
She leaned over and kissed the tip of his dick.
“Ah, jeez, Deb.” Jack’s indrawn breath was harsh. And aroused. “You always steal my thunder.”
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