You for Christmas

by Madeline Ash

  Her heart fluttered as she angled her head, parting just enough to press her tongue to his and sample the taste of him.

  Delight ripped through her and she pushed a little deeper. Heat and hops, heaven and earth, and there in the slide of his tongue and angling of his head, was the truth that left her heart weeping.

  Kindness.

  As she started to pull back, Felix cupped the back of her head, lifting her closer, up onto her toes. Requesting she check thoroughly, it seemed, not about to leave her verdict in doubt. Her greed obliged and with hands grasping his shoulders, she parted her lips and indulged. His response was hungry, and need set off warning shots low in her belly, bursts of pleasure that begged for touch, for friction. Felix made her want so much more than taste.

  She wanted liberation.

  Regan almost growled when he pulled back, his gaze heavy. “Well?”

  Her breath snagged in her throat. “You taste forbidden.”

  “Yet I’m not.” His arms were locked around her. “I swear there is a very strong list of reasons this is a good idea.”

  Do not ask, Regan ordered herself, despite her body arguing to hear him out. The thick pulsing in her blood, the sensitive swelling of her breasts...it was a heated argument. Tight, achy.

  So very, very convincing.

  “I think I have a solution,” she said, overturned.

  He swayed her, though she could hardly hear the music.

  “Mm?”

  “You work a lot and don’t have time for girlfriends. I’ve got zero experience being a significant other and you’re the last person who would deserve my failings in that capacity. So, as you said, a relationship is out either way.” If his hands tightened at that, she chose to ignore it. “If we do nothing, we’ll either get over it or become rabid with built-up, sexual stress. I’m sensing rabidity. If we wait, we might break while we’re in Byron Bay and Stevie will almost definitely find out. Messiness would ensue. So, really, we only have one option.”

  Felix didn’t respond, but the desperation in his gaze acknowledged her conclusion.

  They had tonight, and tonight only.

  “Just something to consider,” she said quietly.

  “Oh.” His grip was secure with possession. “I will.”

  Chapter Seven

  The walk home had put Felix at the center of a serious battle between mind and matter, and both were giving it their all. Spend the night with Regan, damn the consequences, or hold off for a less impulsive moment? He shamelessly ached to do the former, but the last thing he wanted was a rash night that Regan might regret.

  As he unlocked his apartment door, he asked, “Want to help me finish with the lights?” Setting up the display would buy him time to figure out what the hell the night should hold.

  “Good idea.” Regan kicked off her shoes. “It might help with your edginess,” she added, with a glance that saw right through him.

  “I’ve created a simulation.” He walked around the couch to wake up his computer. “So we’ll have to hang them up to match. I know that takes some of the fun out of it.”

  She moved in behind him. “Not at all.”

  “And we’ll have to finish screwing in the hooks first.”

  She elbowed him lightly. “Easy.”

  “It can be tricky getting them into the ceiling.”

  “You can lift me up,” she suggested, far too casually.

  Stricken, his gaze raked down her figure. “Yeah,” he said, voice strained.

  She heard it. Swung her gaze to him knowingly. “If you want to.”

  Oh, he wanted to. Lift her up, lay her down, lie with her body moving bare and brazen overhead...he wanted it all. He was just doubting now was the right time to have it.

  Felix managed a nod.

  It took the better part of an hour, with Regan monkeying around the apartment, screwing hooks into the plaster and darting back to the display on the computer screen, eyes moving from the simulation to the real thing, and back again. He suggested she use his furniture for footing, so he stood within catching distance as she stretched high, her legs smooth and lean beneath that tiny skirt, her top riding up to reveal her pale stomach. Desire plagued him, eating at his resistance until he feared he’d do something stupid. And he would have to be stupid to go through with a one-night stand.

  Firstly, they had a very important person in common, thus eliminating the chance of a clean break. Not seeing each other again was fairly integral to the success of a fling. Sleep together once now and the future could be awkward and uncomfortable.

  More likely, it would be torture.

  One night would never be enough, not with Regan.

  He wanted to wait. Act as if there wasn’t an unrivalled attraction between them while they were in Byron Bay. Once the sisters had reunited and settled into a shared life, he and Regan could explore this chemistry. Out in the open, with no quick fixes or secrets.

  It was a pity unrivalled attraction didn’t like to be ignored. And Regan had decided to look it dead in the eye. She clearly liked her solution. She’d brush his hand as he handed her the next hook. Grip his shoulder to jump down from a shelf, running her fingers down his chest before withdrawing. Drive him to the edge of restraint with a doe-eyed glance and sexy twist of her lips.

  Thankfully for the competition, she, unlike him, maintained the ability to multitask. They hung lights from the bookshelves and strung them from the center of the ceiling, and each time, she stood back, hands on her hips, critiquing their handiwork. He had to admit, the display impressed. A morass of fairy lights glittering golden. No music playing yet, just a gentle galaxy contained within these four walls, an indoor wonderland that would have people pointing up from the street below.

  It was as Regan attached the final string, standing on tiptoes on the sideboard, that she lost her balance. A small wobble, pitching back slightly at the hips, and Felix moved in fast, one hand landing on the fabric at her waist, the other on the back of her leg. She gripped his wrist instantly, trying to steady herself as he eased her back up to standing.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, regaining her balance.

  He didn’t answer. The palm on her leg had pushed up beneath her skirt to the sweet curve where thigh met bottom. His thumb bent inwards, pressing against the soft skin of her inner thigh, close, so very close to silkier depths. Recklessly, he wondered what sounds she’d make if he inched her underwear aside and stroked her, entered her, held her upright with his other hand until she shuddered around him. Soft strained whispers or deep-bellied moans?

  He wanted both.

  Need pounded into him, a lust-punch to end all resistance. He didn’t let her go.

  Regan stood with her back turned, chest to the wall. She’d put a palm to the plaster, motionless. Then, as his thumb shifted, just a fraction in and more than a fraction up, she looked at him over her shoulder, her face alive with desire.

  “Help me down,” she requested huskily.

  He didn’t have to. She twisted, hooking an ankle around his waist to hold him still and slid down until she sat on the narrow sideboard with her thighs apart and Felix between them. She inched forward, legs wrapping fully around him, and he exhaled sharply, arousal bursting beneath the pressure of her crotch. God, he wanted in, wanted her. Wanted all of it.

  He muttered, “I thought you weren’t going to wrap yourself around my waist again.”

  “Rules have changed,” she answered, eyelids half-closed as she ran a hand under his shirt and across his back. He leaned into her, crazy for her touch. “One night—one night can’t be bad.”

  Couldn’t it? Felix couldn’t remember anymore. He closed his eyes when her nose grazed up the right side of his neck. He felt her hesitate, then push her mouth fully against the underside of his jaw. Lust spiked at the wet press of her tongue. He was hard now, straining against his shorts. Urging her back, he leaned down and ran his mouth down her neck. Warm skin, soft against his lips, against his tongue. He breathed in and sm
elled heaven.

  He moved lower to kiss a line along her collarbone. Her fingernails scraped down his sides to rest at his waistband and he heard the light thud of her head relaxing back against the wall. She was open to him, her breasts full beneath that tight singlet—but he needed more than the shape of her, he needed skin, so the singlet went, landing somewhere behind him, and her black satin bra, too, then he was cupping them bare and indulging in the nipples that jutted above the length of his thumbs. Only when Regan bunched his shirt and made to drag it over his head did he surrender the blushing buds.

  Her eyelashes were heavy as she regarded him with a lust-blown gaze.

  “You’re sure?” he asked, lust raging like a firestorm.

  “Yes. You make me feel good,” she murmured, locking her ankles behind him and melting her breasts against his naked chest. Desire lunged through him as his mouth closed over hers. She was right for him, no mistaking it. She overpowered his senses, clogged his thoughts with scent and pleasure and texture. And sex. His body was mad for it, each heartbeat a plea for release. Her fingers found his waistband and his erection pushing up beneath it, and for a while, Felix knew nothing but the gentle circling of her thumb and the tormented pleasure it let loose.

  When he responded in kind, palm cupping between her thighs, her whole body trembled. He could feel the need stretched taut in her, limbs and muscles tight around him. Arousal kicked hard at his crotch as he slid beneath the fabric, finding her hot and wet. He began to stroke, alive with hunger at the feel of her, and he kissed her, harder, fiercer, and she whimpered into his mouth, back arching, encouraging him deeper.

  He lost himself in her. Ravaging, delving, consuming.

  He wondered if he still tasted like kindness.

  Then her mouth covered his ear, breath rapid, and asked, “Got somewhere more comfortable?”

  Dazed, Felix turned with her in his arms. The rug was closest, the couch only a few more steps, and though soft and romantic, the bed was at least ten seconds away.

  Gallantly, he chose the bed.

  For the first time in her life, Regan didn’t think during sex. She closed her eyes and knew nothing but the sensations sparking off Felix’s hands, his mouth, his naked skin against hers. His touch calmed her, a salve for the mental scars, a balm for the emotional burdens weighing just below the surface. As he lowered her onto the bed, sliding off her skirt and underwear, Regan’s only agitation was the full body ache she felt for him.

  She didn’t stay on her back as he moved to the bedside drawer. No way was she going to be passive in this, not with Felix. She was up on her knees on the edge of the bed, yanking his shorts to the floor as he rustled. Without fear, she beheld the length of him, held him hard and erect in her palm, and reveled in the groan she dragged from low in his chest. It fueled her, rushing through her veins like an endless energy source. Then his mouth captured hers and he was passing the sound to her in a kiss of desperation and desire, falling down with her onto the covers.

  “I’m mad for you, Regan,” he said, pinning her down and kissing her chin, her jaw, her neck. She twisted, loving the weight of his body above hers, the blunt press of his erection at her center. “You know that?”

  “Evidence does suggest,” she said, cutting off with a gasp as he eased into her, thick and slow. For a few precious moments, she knew nothing but the feel of him and the glorious glide of him filling her. Tension coiled around her core as he withdrew, winding tighter still at his next languid push. But no, she needed to own this, control it. Swiftly, urgently, she clenched her thighs around him and rolled, trapping Felix on his back and shoving his slow rhythm out the window.

  He gripped her hips as she rode him. Pleasure darkened his eyes, burned in her muscles. She whimpered, moaned, and lost awareness of herself when she surrendered to the bliss budding inside her, until suddenly, startlingly, ecstasy caught her up in an endless, thrumming moment, drenching her in golden pleasure, holding her high above thought and knowledge and the darkness of memory.

  Then Felix was sitting up, his arms locked around her middle, his face buried in her neck. His torso was tense, strung tightly from neck to navel, and she slumped against him, clutching his strong shoulders, breathing deep against his slick skin. Safe, tucked in the circle of his embrace.

  “A little longer?” he murmured into her hair, and she realized he was still rigid and ready inside her.

  “Please,” she said, and ended up on her back.

  Regan had been broken by the first man who’d used her body. The raw grind had disconnected her, the physical act like an emotional repellant, flinging him as far from her heart as possible. Sex had since been an empty act, a kind of perfunctory fix that she enjoyed only because it meant she hadn’t been scared off entirely. She’d refused to be scared off.

  Now, Felix fused himself to her, each stroke a soul deep bond that tied them together. Heat and energy charged between them, neither his nor hers, but theirs, a physical intimacy that Regan had never dreamed possible. As his movements roughened and pleasure surged through her anew, she grasped him so tightly she wondered whether she’d press through the barrier of his body to reside within him. Then Felix swelled and Regan cried out once more, liquid bliss gushing through her, through him, and she realized in that moment she was finally, blessedly, whole.

  Regan stared at the ceiling. Felix was tucked up against her, a hand on her stomach, the other tracing patterns across her scalp. She kept her body relaxed, her lips curved slightly up, as if she didn’t have a thought beyond her contentment.

  Her mind was chaos.

  She finally understood why people enjoyed sex. Those all-consuming urges, not just satisfying, but gratifying. It felt good. Felix’s hand inched lower on her belly and she shifted, instantly aroused by the promise of more. It staggered her, how her body reacted to his touch, like she’d just needed the right person to unlock her.

  Regan shifted again, pulling up the sheet. A snuggle that doubled as a shield.

  She’d had her virginity taken at thirteen and had downplayed sex ever since. In all that time, not once had she been treated like she mattered. Yet, in just three days, Felix had made her feel more respected, more valued, than any man before him. He’d become her strength, her shelter. She could only bear the thought of facing Stevie and the emotional consequences because he would be by her side. His big heart had muscled its way into hers, a great hulking emotion that somehow fit in that decrepit space. She couldn’t imagine having to yank it back out and leave him.

  But that was exactly what she had to do.

  Distressed, Regan inhaled carefully. Ragged breaths would give her away. They had agreed on one night and that was all she could give.

  But Felix is mad about me.

  And she was falling in love with him.

  Panic dulled her afterglow. Perhaps she’d always been a little in love with him; the idea of him. A gentle harbor. Not just a person, but a place, a safe place. And now that she knew him—knew it was all true—she wanted to stay in the place that was Felix forever. She wanted to lie with her head on his chest. Curl against him and feel him shift in his sleep, large hand finding hers in the sheets. She wanted it so badly her throat tightened.

  The poor fool imagined her brave, strong. A woman who’d fought the dark of loneliness and needed a loving hand to draw her into the light.

  If only he realized that she’d locked herself in the dark. There hadn’t been a struggle. She wasn’t brave or strong or hardcore. She’d given in without a fight, time and time again, and then she had run away. She’d hidden. And then she’d run further, leaving a sunburnt country for ice and snow as if the cold could freeze her filth and numb the humiliation.

  Her gut lurched at the thought of telling Felix about the truth that had tainted her since thirteen. He would flick and purge, desperate to get it out of him. He would rue the day she’d knocked on his door. Curse her figure, the skin and soft flesh that lured a man right out of his senses.

&n
bsp; It had happened before.

  And she couldn’t handle that. Not from Felix. So the guard had to rise again, locking her away along with her secrets.

  “You’re shaking.” Felix spoke quietly.

  “Am I?” Regan raised her hands, watched them quake midair. Damn it. “Aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, but you’re really shaking.”

  It was the kind of tremble that did emotion’s bidding, beyond the mind’s control. Right now, anxiety reigned and Felix could see it.

  “I usually do afterwards,” she said off-handedly, and patted his arm once, twice. “Anyway, I think that’s done it.”

  Felix propped up on his elbow, frowning. “Pardon?”

  “That’s done it,” she repeated, and sat up like that was that. “I’m good now. How about you?”

  “Uh.” He sat up beside her, spine stiff. “Not exactly.”

  Regan hated herself as she put on her best careless smile. “I might head to bed.”

  “You won’t stay?”

  She swung her legs off his mattress and ran her hands through her hair. Move slowly and he wouldn’t sense that she was blinking back pain. “Can you see my skirt anywhere?”

  “You don’t have to go.” He ran his fingertips down her spine. “It’s complicated, but we could feel our way through this. Not just tonight, but tomorrow, and after that. We’ve got something here.”

  She stood, jaw tight against dismay. “Or my underwear.” She drew in a steadying breath and glanced around. “I can’t see that either.”

  There was a long silence. Then, softly, “I dropped them at the foot of the bed.”

  She followed the instruction, half-blind for tears.

  “Regan. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” She tugged on her knickers, back to him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Because...” He trailed off so pathetically, she felt like a wretch.