by Vivian Arend
This time her name came out somewhere between a promise and a plea.
She pushed against him, and he released her immediately, wiggling his shoulders to help her strip away the first layer. Reaching down, their hands bumped together as he helped pull the T-shirt from his body.
Naked from the waist up, he adjusted forward in his chair, opening his thighs wider to give her room to step closer as she brought the washcloth to him. She wiped his face clean, passing the cloth over his head and down his neck. Hanna turned back to dip the cloth in the water, wrung it out, then touched it to him again. She washed his shoulders, his arms, over his broad pectorals and down his ribs. His breathing picked up, chest moving under her touch.
His erection pressed to the front of his jeans, thick and ready.
She dipped the cloth again, thankful for the momentary breaks between touching him because she was on fire with need. Moving toward him instead of walking behind him, she reached around to wash his back, her gaze frozen on his face as he watched her intently. His bright blue eyes were filled with need.
Hanna gave the cloth another rinse before washing his arms, his forearms, stroking the soft fabric between his fingers.
The water had cooled, so she added another scoop of hot, and bracing herself to turn back, she motioned him to his feet.
He rose, towering over her, and yet she felt as if they were perfectly even, equals in desire and need and want.
Hanna reached for his button and undid his pants.
It was one of those moments where Brad worried if he made a single sound he would somehow disrupt the magic. That Hanna’s trembling hands as she opened his jeans and helped push them off his hips would vanish, and this would all turn out to be some kind of feverish, lust-filled dream.
Only as he helped strip his pants away and she gasped softly, turning back to grab her washcloth, he knew the magic was strong enough to last.
She’d decided, and he was so very thankful.
The warm cloth stroked his thighs. Hanna’s eyes widened as she touched him and washed his legs while she worked around the territory still covered by his briefs. It was cute to see her pointedly ignore his cock even as the rigid length blatantly attempted to escape its confines.
Cute at least until she paused in front of him, slowly lifting her eyes to meet his. “Take them off,” she ordered, as bold as any drill sergeant.
No hiding now. His cock bounced back to near vertical, so hard from anticipation he ached. When she soaked the cloth again and wrapped the fabric around his length, rubbing carefully, Brad swore softly.
If anything she just stroked harder.
“You’d better be done soon,” he warned, the words rumbling out barely comprehendible.
Hanna laughed, the sound lightness and joy, and she stepped away, her gaze far bolder than he expected.
When she lifted her hands to the bottom of her shirt and pulled her sweater over her head, his heart beat with the pom-pom of a drum.
Sweet innocence stripped in front of him.
She folded her sweater carefully then placed it on a chair before she shimmied out of her pants. When she was down to nothing but a plain white bra and underwear, feet clad in grey woolen socks she paused, hands hanging by her sides.
“Dear God, Hanna, you’re killing me.”
She turned on the spot, slowly reaching behind her and removing her bra before facing him again. Breasts high, nipples tight. Cheeks flushed as she tucked her thumbs into the edge of her panties and pushed them down her legs, and then she was naked except for the socks.
His brain was three seconds from going off-line for good, but before he had a total mental meltdown, a moment of panic rushed in.
He lifted a finger in the air. “Don’t move,” he ordered.
Brad rushed across the room to where his bag was, desperately digging into the side pocket before breathing a sigh of relief as he scooped up a handful of condoms.
Soft, naked skin pressed against his side as Hanna leaned over him, stroking her fingers down his forearm to take one of the packages from him. “I’m glad you have extras.”
Brad turned to her, shock diluting his brain power for a moment. “You have condoms?”
She hesitated. “I started carrying them a few days ago,” she confessed.
He scooped her up and carried her back in front of the fire, tossing the extra supplies to one side before reheating the water and squeezing the washcloth clean.
Then he proceeded to enjoy himself thoroughly.
He washed her from head to toe, teasing as he pressed the warm cloth against her breasts, rubbing until her nipples were bright red and her chest shook with how hard she breathed.
He soaked the cloth again, pressing his hands against her thighs until she opened wider to let him stroke her pussy. Soft motions along each side of her labia followed, circling up and over her clit. Folding the cloth around his fingers so he could rub with precision until her hips rocked upward helplessly.
The heat from the fire poured forward, wrapping around them. Firelight brushed over her skin and highlighted her every motion. Brad put aside the cloth and picked her up, carried her to the bed, and laid her on the quilt-covered mattress.
Brad rested beside her, skimming a hand over her soft skin. “I want everything, all at the same time. I want to touch your breasts.” He stroked his palm over her as he spoke. “I want to lick them until you’re squirming. I want to nibble my way down between your legs then feast until you’re calling my name. I need to be inside you.”
Her fingers wrapped around his cock, and he sucked for air. “I need all that too. I want you, Brad.”
No stopping now. He rolled, her slight body hot like a coal under him. She opened her legs wider and he settled closer. Braced on his elbows so he wouldn’t crush her, he stared into her eyes.
“You’ve got me,” he confessed. “All of me.”
She’d slipped into a happy dream, but one that wasn’t out of reach. It was right there, happening to her. Her skin tingled where he’d touched her, which was pretty much everywhere. The clean scent of soap on his skin brought back memories of touching him intimately, of feeling his willingness to let her take control.
That moment was over though, as he brought their lips together and kissed—
Oh God, what a kiss. Hot and intense and shooting from need to urgency as if a thermometer had been pressed to the side of the stove.
As he kissed his way down her neck, Hanna closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing, but it was no use. He seemed determined to devastate her. Pressing her breasts together so he could lick from one to the other more rapidly than she could control her breath. Nibbling on the tips he’d already made sensitive from the washcloth until she was ready to grab him by the ears and force him to make a move.
Then he was gone, settling between her legs, ready and willing to torment her all over in a brand-new way. He licked and touched and stroked. Teasing her clit, slipping his fingers inside her. A slow thrust, and another, but when he curled his fingers she just about hit the ceiling. She clutched the quilt as his touch sent an electric shock through her.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, elated and panicked all at the same time.
He just laughed and did it again, adding his tongue against her clit. There was no escape from the pleasure that roared up, exploding out as if she were one of those firecrackers that began with a single pop then burst in a dozen different directions, each one spiraling out of control with a screaming whistle.
She was still seeing stars as a condom wrapper crinkled. Then he was between her legs, the thick head of his cock against her. Easing in, pulling back.
She caught hold of his shoulders and stared into his face. His lashes fluttered a few times as he worked himself deeper, but it felt good. Oh, it felt so good, and when he finally stopped, fully buried in her, Hanna sighed, content.
“Finally.”
His lips curled, and a soft laugh escaped as he held himself motionless. Presen
t, so-completely present. She couldn’t ignore that he was inside her, hard and broad and perfect.
Then he moved, and it only got better. “I’m going to lose my mind,” he warned her in a whisper. “So damn good.”
Hanna bent her knees farther, lifting them. He slipped even deeper. “More,” she begged.
A groan escaped him as if she’d demanded the impossible, but then he sped up. Pressing deeper, thrusting harder. His shoulders and arm muscles bulging as she ran her fingers over them.
Touching was a connection. Joined—even more intimate.
He slid a hand over her belly and his fingers made contact with her clit, demanding a response. Pleasure spiraled higher as he pressed his mouth to hers, small pulses of his hips moving the head of his cock against the most sensitive part of her. His fingers shifted rapidly.
“Brad.” It took forever for her to say it because it took forever for her body to stop rocking, everything in her core coiling tight.
He gasped, lifting up and pressing deep. Brad buried himself over and over in a series of hard, frantic thrusts, pulling her orgasm out for an eternity until he froze, his cock jerking inside her, which set off another round of pleasure.
They were tangled up, legs and arms, lips moving together for a final desperate kiss before gasping for air.
He rolled her on top. Hanna’s limbs were limp noodles as she pressed her ear to his chest to listen to the rapid thumping.
“That was amazing,” she told him much later when she finally had the energy to speak.
“That was everything I’ve ever wanted,” Brad said, before twirling her world upside down. He rolled them carefully until they lay side by side with him staring into her face as if he was trying to memorize her. “Hanna, sugar. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. There’s something I need to ask—”
Out of the rafters over the bed, a small furry creature fell directly on Brad’s head.
Smothering her amusement, Hanna sat, carefully scooping up the kitten that nuzzled against her, meowing piteously.
Brad laughed, rolling away and striding from the bed. She wasn’t sure what all he did, but by the time she joined him at the table, placing Blackie carefully at the bowl of milk Brad had found, he didn’t say anything more regarding whatever he’d been about to ask.
And she didn’t remind him, but she thought she knew what he’d been about to ask, and the idea was both perfect, and perfectly terrifying.
That look in his eyes had been love. She was sure of it.
Throughout the day as he stoked the fire and they watched the storm rage against the windows, Hanna kept waiting for him to finish his question. Part of her kept hoping he wouldn’t because she wasn’t sure yet what her answer would be.
They played games and made meals and cuddled together until it became another session of lovemaking, and Hanna was just about one hundred percent sure what she would say when he did ask…
Which made the fact that he didn’t all the more frustrating.
15
The cabin was still dark, and either Hanna had gone deaf and could no longer hear the wind howling past, or the storm had calmed. Her heart went back to fluttering the instant she came fully alert and realized where she was. In bed, with Brad.
Brad, who held her as if she were precious. His big arms cradled her tight then tugged until she was draped over him.
“Merry Christmas,” Brad offered.
She wiggled—then froze as she realized the rock-solid bits of him included his cock, and she was right on top of it.
He brushed a finger over her cheek, that contented expression on his face that she was growing to enjoy far too much. “Such big eyes.”
Three words. A new record. “You don’t seem to be as grumpy as usual this morning,” Hanna teased.
Brad raised a brow. “You’re in my bed. That’s better than coffee.”
Hanna went for it, leaning in to kiss him, running her hands over him because she could. He groaned as she adjusted position, knees to either side of his body, her sex directly over his hard length. She undulated her hips a few times, and his breathing got faster. Tighter.
And when she leaned to the side and grabbed a condom, his smile widened.
Curses rang out—soft ones—as she slid his boxers down then went to cover him. Fumbling a little, working the edges of the condom over him with her hand until he caught her wrist in his and stopped her.
“Hanna.”
Begging. He was begging, and she was ready, and as she rose over him and guided him into her body, slowly, easing over his width, Hanna sighed with contentment.
Only once she was completely down, connected as one, did she lean forward. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered.
She kissed him as she lifted and lowered. Brad caught her by the hips and helped, moving together until they were both breathless and somehow he was sitting up as well and she was wrapped tight in his arms.
They came staring into each other’s eyes, and she was seconds away from telling him—
The wind rattled at the window, and they both glanced at the patch of sunshine on the floor. “I don’t think the storm’s done yet,” Brad warned. “We’d better head home before we’re trapped for the rest of the week.”
She stroked a hand over his face. “Other than the fact we’d scare Crissy, that wouldn’t be the worst disaster ever,” she confessed.
His smile set in place and didn’t vanish. Not as they cleaned up the cabin and packed up their things. They cleared off the sleds and headed out into the crisp, cold day. Sunshine sparkled blindingly bright against the piles of fresh powder.
It was exhilarating and wonderful, and in the midst of all of it, contentment rolled in, and Hanna knew.
She loved him. She trusted him, and when he did get around to asking, she was going to say yes, even though it might make no sense. They’d rushed forward so quickly after inching their way along the beginning of the relationship, but it seemed as if they were meant to be together.
He was the one she wanted. She wanted him for now and years into the future. She could just hear them in the future, talking about each other the way Patrick did about his wife, who’d been his other half.
They pulled into the barn, and Crissy came running, Patrick smiling behind her, leaning heavily on his canes.
Hanna held her little girl tight and kissed her. “Merry Christmas, sweetie.”
“Merry Christmas, Mommy. We made breakfast, Mr. Patrick and I.”
Crissy raced over to Brad to give him another hug and a kiss and to take Blackie from him, scolding the kitten as she carried it off to its mom.
“We’ve been fine,” Patrick assured Hanna. “Now if you’ve got an appetite, Crissy made enough for a horde.”
Everything seemed brighter as they walked into the kitchen. Crissy told them all about the stories Patrick had read the night before. How they’d waited for Santa to come down the chimney—
Brad lifted a hand and excused himself. “I’ll be right back,” he promised.
Hanna listened as her daughter shared excitedly. Brad passed by with a couple of brightly wrapped packages in his arms before returning to the kitchen where they ate themselves silly on pancakes, peaches and whipped cream.
Patrick stirred another spoon of sugar into his coffee. “My belly is full to the brim. I guess it’s time for a nap,” he said, stretching his arms lazily in the air.
Crissy quivered in her chair, concern on her face.
“Yep, that’s the best thing for a lazy Christmas morning.” Patrick nodded at Hanna then winked where Crissy couldn’t see it. “Can’t think of another thing I’d rather do.”
“We could open presents,” Crissy suggested casually.
“But naps are nice,” Hanna said with as straight a face as possible.
The fluttering in her belly became stronger as Brad exchanged glances with her before he spoke up. “Seriously? I have to agree with Crissy. I think we’d better open presents before nap time instead
of after,” he said.
“But you still think today should include nap time,” Hanna teased.
His eyes flashed. “It’s good to have a bit of a rest after a lot of excitement. I think we should all have a lie-down later today.”
Her mouth went dry. Okay, then.
They gathered in the living room where the tree stood in the opposite corner to the fireplace, a small bundle of brightly wrapped packages at its base. Hanna recognized the couple that she and Crissy had picked up for Patrick and Brad, but there were a lot more.
Patrick motioned for Crissy to come forward. “Youngest person in the room is the elf,” he decreed as he put a red Santa hat on her head.
She paused with her hands on his knees. “Okay. I’ll be the helper this time.”
Crissy scooped up a present and brought it to Brad, and they all watched as he unwrapped a new picture frame—a present from his father.
One after another they took turns unwrapping surprises. Patrick opened a small group of boxes that came from his friends that contained new tools to use in his workshop. Crissy opened a package from Patrick that held warm slippers and a robe. In the pocket was a stuffed toy rabbit wearing a matching outfit, and she laughed with childish delight and gave him a big hug.
The next present was delivered to Hanna. It took some work because the box was heavy, and Brad ended up helping Crissy drag it across the floor to Hanna’s feet.
“It says to the Lanes,” Crissy informed her. “That means you and me, right?”
“It does. Want to help me unwrap it?”
Silly question. Paper flew in all directions. Hanna glanced up to see Brad watching intently.
Crissy had the lid pried off an instant later. Her jaw dropped, mouth opening in a wide, comical gasp. “My books!”
Hanna leaned in closer to discover the top of the box held a layer of children’s books, some paperback, some hardcover.
Familiar titles, all of them.
Crissy snatched up a book in either hand and jumped up and down excitedly. She whirled toward Hanna and shoved her hands forward. “There’s Andrew and the Wild Bikes, and The Secret World of Og, and—” She laughed, digging into the box again as Hanna’s heart filled with joy.
