One Christmas: (BBW Military Romance) (One Soldier Series Book 3)

by Christin Lovell

  And that was when it all came rushing back to me.

  Flashes of our intimacy flickered in my mind, reawakening my desire for him. Reminding me of my feelings for him, feelings I’d been trying to ignore, trying to bury for ten months now.

  Somehow, he’d managed to get the comforter out from under me to cover us up. It explained why I wasn’t freezing my butt off.

  Rolling onto my back, I glanced sideways. He lay sleeping, the blankets halfway up his body, and a single arm cast over his head. I remained there for a moment, taking in his features. He looked so peaceful. It made it harder to leave him.

  But I needed a bit of space. I would think much clearer without the object of my desire lying beside me.

  As quietly as possible, I slipped out of bed. I picked up my clothes off of the floor and tossed them in the wicker clothesbasket on my way to my closet. I pulled on a pair of lacy undergarments followed by black skinny jeans, a long-sleeved black shirt and my leopard print slippers.

  I stopped on my way to the kitchen, giving him one last once over. I watched his chest rise and fall in a steady, soothing cadence. Each breath he took seemed to strengthen my feelings for him, feelings I knew I ought to deny.

  Striding out to the kitchen, I stopped short at the full coffee pot, the red light indicating it was on; the timer turned the brewer off after sixty minutes, meaning he’d been up within the past hour to make it for me.

  Walking around the island, my heart leapt at the note on the counter. My stomach knotted, jitters building, as I reached for the paper.

  I still feel the same.

  Love,

  Brad

  I clenched the paper between my fingers. It was one sheet of paper, yet it held so much weight. It put the ball back in my court. It took away my excuses. It was simple, yet it wasn’t simple. I felt a sense of responsibility to Brad, to protect him.

  But I wasn’t. At this point, if I was brutally honest, I was only protecting myself. He’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted me, that he wanted this; he proved he could handle my curves. Sweet Jesus, could he handle my curves.

  It was me. I was afraid that one day he would wake up, see a few more wrinkles and a few more saggy folds and decide to walk away, to go find an Ava.

  And I wouldn’t recover this time. With Brad, there was this fluency from the beginning, this easy connection that spanned the distance. With him, I knew I could eventually love him more than I’d loved anyone else; I knew I was already on my way.

  And that scared me.

  It was me who was holding her shield up. I was the one holding us back. I was the one with insecurities and issues.

  Getting a mug from the cupboard, I poured myself a cup of coffee and mixed in cream and sugar. Taking the sheet with me, I sat down at the dining table.

  Around every turn, Brad had showed me his character. In his letters, he’d been quick to defend my feelings towards my ex, to support me in every way from afar, especially with Haylee.

  And now, he was doing the same in person, even after I’d pushed him away.

  What man, at twenty-nine or fifty-nine, would not only stay after a woman had turned her back to him, but would also go so far as to wake up at six-in-the-morning to make her coffee?

  None of the men I’d been with before had.

  He was the exception. In everything, Brad seemed to be the exception, which made him twice as sexy, twice as desirable and twice as…amazing. He was amazing. There was no way around it.

  He came back from a ten-month tour of duty and thirty-six hours of traveling and then woke up at six-in-the-morning to make me coffee.

  Sweet cherry pie, I’ve been a bitch, and it’s not even that time of the month.

  I glimpsed at the note one last time, before rising. I finished my coffee, cleaned my cup and put it away. I was just about to head towards the bedroom when he appeared in the entryway to the kitchen.

  He leaned against the extra-large opening, his arms folded casually across his chest and his feet crossed at his ankles. He stood in a pair of boxers that did nothing to hide his morning wood. He gave me a small smile, but didn’t make any moves to come closer.

  Coming around the island, I pressed my backside into it. It took me a long minute to work up the nerve to speak. “I’m sorry about last night.”

  Pursing his lips, he considered me. “I’m not.” There was an edge to his voice; it wasn’t a bite, per se, but he was uneasy.

  And I’d made him that way.

  “Do you still feel the same?” I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth and nibbled on the tender flesh, fighting my nerves.

  His features sharpened, became more determined. “Always will, babe.”

  My heart melted at the word, its pitter pattering slightly faster.

  I glanced back at the stove, checking the time. “I don’t have to be in the office until nine.” I quirked a brow, waiting to see if he’d take the hint.

  His lips twitched at the corners. “You need to spell it out for me, babe. Where do we stand?”

  Expelling a soft breath, I shoved off the island and made my way to him. I looked at his hard chest, and the pale, tan discs in the center of each pec. I ran one hand down the center of him, passing over his heart and stopping once I reached his belly button. Placing one hand on each side of him, I lifted my gaze. “Wherever you want us to stand, for as long as you want us to stand there.”

  A grin split his face. “Is that island anchored to the floor?”

  Before I could reply, he hauled me against him and claimed my lips.

  He buried his hands in my hair, controlling the angle and depth at which he devoured me. He spun us, gently pushing me backwards until my back hit the entryway wall. He kicked his bags out of the way, their fabric making a distinct sound as they glided along the wood floors.

  And then his hands were everywhere, undressing me, peeling each layer off in haste, sending my slippers flying, before he shed his boxers. He grabbed at my hips, at my fleshy bits with gusto, with vivacity. There was no question as to whether or not he liked my excess.

  I was fat to his fit, but, to him, I was simply a perfect fit.

  He stepped between my legs, kissing a trail down to my neck. In one lithe motion, he impaled me.

  I cried out as pleasure fluttered through me, sweet and delicious, like the man himself. Gripping his biceps, I hung on for dear life as he set a fast pace.

  “Fuck, babe; you feel so damn good.” His voice was a husky rasp in my ear, eliciting a shiver.

  My nipples percolated, abraded by his lower chest with each upward thrust.

  “Touch yourself. I want to make sure you get there.” He wrapped his arms around me, capturing a stiff peak.

  I threw my arms around his neck and tugged myself upwards so I could kiss his lips. “It’s easier if I turn around.”

  Biting my lip, he growled. Giving my rear asset a less than gentle tap, he slid out to give me space to move.

  Facing the wall, feet apart, I wiggled my hips, shimmying my rear asset against his cock.

  Without warning, his arms came around me like a vise. His fingers expertly began to work my nipples a moment before he slammed home again.

  Intense pleasure shot through my core. Between his hands and his cock, my body was wracked with pretty, erotic sensations, sensations that had me melting into him, sensations that had my fingers diving for my clit.

  “That’s it, babe.” He sucked my shoulder, his thrusts becoming more frantic.

  I heard his tiny little grunts with each stroke he took inside me, the sound driving my pleasure higher, taking me to new heights. Once again, he overwhelmed my senses. There was no hiding with Brad, for there was no shame in our pleasure.

  My womb knotted, the intensity rising. I strained, reaching for the edge, doubling my own efforts, furiously circling my pearl.

  Suddenly, we both tensed; as if we were connected on another level, our limbs stiffened at the exact same moment. With one more pummel, we both t
umbled over the edge.

  I cried out, leaning into him as waves of pleasure crashed over me, as pleasure shook me to the core. It was a fast and furious collaboration, but there was nothing quick about the decadent feelings overtaking every nerve ending, every blissful nerve ending, and lingering leisurely.

  Never letting go, he held me to him; he supported me and ensured I didn’t collapse at any point, even as he endured his own bout of pleasure. It proved that, no matter the circumstances, he would always be there to support me; he would never let me fall.

  Heart pounding and limbs trembling, I pressed my palms against the wall for support. “I need to go get ready. I should only be gone a couple of hours. I’m trying to finish the final quarter’s financials so I can work on year end totals all next week.”

  He pressed his chin into my left shoulder. “One of these days I’m going to whisk you away from all of this responsibility. We’ll fuck like rabbits until you forget what two plus two equals.”

  I couldn’t help but wear a goofy grin. “We’ll see. It’s awful hard to forget an answer as easy as that one.” Spinning in his arms, I stretched up on my tiptoes and pecked his lips. “What do you want for dinner tonight, Soldier?”

  A low rumble escaped him. “More of you.” He buried his face in my hair, wrapping himself around me again.

  A chuckle escaped me. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but that won’t be happening tonight. My dad is coming over. Every Christmas Eve I cook us dinner, then he takes over the television for a few hours while I bake. At the end of the night, he leaves me with a gift for me and a gift for Haylee, and I send him off with plenty of leftovers and baked goodies.”

  “And after he leaves?” Angling away from me, he quirked a brow.

  “I collapse into bed. I literally spend a good eight hours on my feet in the kitchen, hence why I indulged you just now.” I scrunched my features. I enjoyed the activity but loathed how sore I was Christmas Day. My dad would always be worth it, though; tradition would always be worth the pain and effort.

  He captured my lips once more, not lingering but not being quick about it either. “I guess I can deal with that.”

  Smiling up at him, I patted his chest. “Good. Now I need to go get ready. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Promise.” Stepping around him, I picked up my clothes, stuffing them into my arms. “Make yourself at home.” I kissed his cheek before I disappeared into the bedroom.

  Very few people would be in the office today, but just in case, I added a black blazer over my earlier ensemble and paired it all with knee-high black boots that were more laborious to get on than Haylee was to push out. Light make-up, mainly for contouring, and simple gold jewelry completed my outfit.

  Throwing a few folders, my phone and my wallet in a large structured black bag, I put on my glasses, grabbed my keys and headed for the front door. I stopped short at the sight of Brad in nothing but a pair of athletic shorts.

  He looked me up and down, his eyes practically glowing with appreciation. “I like it. You look good, babe. Real good. Just wanted to let you know.” He stepped aside with a wink and opened the door for me.

  I felt my cheeks heat for one brief moment before I sassily threw it back at him. Thrusting a hand on my hip, I took him in. “I like it. You look good, babe. Real good. Just wanted to let you know.” I winked, sashaying to the coat rack to grab my thickest scarf. Haphazardly wrapping it around my neck, I leaned in and stole a kiss on my way past him. I screeched, my eyes shooting open wide when he slapped my ass.

  Glimpsing over my shoulder, I cut my eyes at him.

  He beamed at me, no remorse in his expression. “Have a good day, babe.” He waved me off.

  Knowing that I was coming home to him ensured that my days would always be good, even if only at the beginning and end of each one, so long as he was here that was.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brad

  December 25th, 2014

  Things started off a bit rocky with Jane’s dad the night before, but ended on a good note. It ended with him quietly giving me his blessing to pursue her.

  “So you’re the youngin’ who’s got a thing for my daughter, huh?” He assessed me in a way only a father could, in a way that made you want to shift uneasily but you knew you shouldn’t.

  “Yes, sir.” I nodded my head once. Hands in my pocket, I met his gaze head on.

  He studied me a good long while, a practiced strategy to make me sweat.

  It worked. I knew Jane was close to her dad; she wouldn’t choose another man he didn’t approve of.

  He harrumphed. “About damn time someone stepped up. That’s a catch right there.” His gaze darted towards the kitchen, where Jane was working away. “You won’t find anyone better than my Janey.” He shook his head once, a punctuation to his statement.

  After tasting everything she made yesterday, I whole-heartedly agreed. There wasn’t a down side to the woman. She cooked, she cleaned, she was independent, had a great job, wasn’t a stage five clinger, and her abundant curves were the icing on the cake. She knew how to dress them and how to work them.

  And I wanted her, all of her. Forever.

  If I walked into her house certain, I was standing here today by the Christmas tree doubly certain.

  I sipped my cup of coffee as Jane talked to Haylee. She missed her daughter today. There was no way I could fill that void, but I would do my best to distract her from the fact.

  Despite having another two weeks, I was already dreading leaving her, but I had another year left on my contract and no way out of it any sooner. I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation, but I was looking forward to visiting her every chance I got.

  I wasn’t going to leave any room for doubt, though. I would walk away knowing she was mine, with her knowing I meant it.

  “Okay, honey. Be sure to tell Andie’s parents thank you before you leave.” She listened to Haylee for a moment before continuing. “Alright. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.” There was a moment of silence, a huge grin splitting her face before she delivered a cheery, “Merry Christmas, honey.”

  With a sigh, she set her phone on the side table. Her gaze sought mine, and I indulged her.

  Sauntering over, I dropped down and planted a kiss on her lips. “I take it she’s having a good time?” I asked, straightening.

  She adjusted her glasses. “Yeah. It’s not the same, but as long as she’s happy, that’s all that matters.”

  Puckering my lips, I considered her. Her hair fell around her face. She was still in her pajamas, a pair of blue and yellow, oversized, plaid flannel shorts, a white tank top and a slouchy grey button up sweater over it all. The sweater kept slipping down her shoulders, the look reminiscent of a sexy librarian. “What about your happiness?”

  Her brown eyes warmed. “I have you now, and you make me happy.”

  I liked the sound of that. It meant I was doing my job right. “Good.”

  She smiled, her gaze drifting off to the fire in the fireplace before returning to me. “What do you want for breakfast?”

  “Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll go to Starbucks? You cooked enough yesterday.” Setting my cup on the side table, I moved into her, bending down, catching my weight on the sofa, to hover over her. “Or you could tell me what you want and I’ll go grab it.”

  Head tilted back, she looked up at me. She narrowed her gaze. “Your treat?” She quirked a brow.

  I frowned. “Of course. What kind of man doesn’t pay for his girl?”

  Her brows dipped inwards. “You’d be surprised.”

  I shook my head negatively. “I may not have as much money as you, but I’ll be damned if you ever pay for me.”

  “Oh, how you spoil me.” She smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

  She grabbed hold of my pajama pants and yanked me closer. Her hand slid down my boxers and gripped my member.

  He was instantly at attention.

  “Mind if we spend a little time in bed first?” Her
gaze was hooded; her voice took on a husky, erotic quality.

  “Who says we need a bed?” Carefully setting her glasses aside, I claimed her lips, wasting no time stripping my bottom half.

  Snatching the blanket over her lap, I tossed it away and collapsed down on the center cushion of the sofa, pulling her with me, positioning her sexy curves atop me.

  Her legs spread over mine as she straddled me, our mouths never missing a beat. She circled her hips over my groin, teasing me.

  Fuck, she could be a minx.

  I grabbed at her ass and hips, cursing the layers between us. The pressure in my lower stomach double, gentle waves of pleasure teasing the tip of my cock every time the fabric of her shorts slithered over it. My dick strained upwards, desperate.

  Jerking her sweater down her arms, I tugged her tank off, freeing her breasts. Hands splayed on her back, I pulled one stiff peak straight into my mouth and sucked hard. I was going to pay her back for her seductive taunt.

  Her head fell back, her lips parting in time for a moan to escape. Slipping off of me, she yanked off her shorts, panties and socks before she returned to me. Her knees bit into the sofa and the side of my hips as she aligned herself with my cock.

  Pleasure shot through me as her pussy swallowed my cock. Fuck! I grabbed at her girth, my nails digging into her softness as she slowly rose and fell atop me.

  She bit her lower lip, staring straight into me as she moved. There was no hiding today. Her wall was mostly demolished, allowing me to experience every part of her.

  I nibbled on her neck and collar, beginning to pump into her from below; her pace was too slow, too deliberate.

  A giggle sounded from her. “Now you know how I feel.”

  My nostrils flared as I took her in. Her hair fell around her shoulders, unkempt in a sexy way. Her lips were swollen from my touch, and her skin showed little marks, evidence of my claim all over her. Her eyes were wide, and crystal clear; her body was soft, warm and welcoming. I always wanted to get lost in her. I was never satisfied, only temporarily satiated; I always wanted more of her. I would always want more of her.