[Kate's Boys 03] - Mistletoe and Miracles

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Laurel, are you sure?”

  “I can sign a waiver if you want,” she told him flippantly. And then she stopped as a thought came rushing at her. “Unless you don’t want me—”

  How could she have been so stupid as to think he’d still want her after all this time? He’d moved on. Any normal person would have. Life didn’t freeze-frame just because she wanted it to.

  She wasn’t prepared to hear him laugh in response. “Now, that’s funny.”

  “Funny?” she repeated stiffly, shriveling up inside.

  “Yes, funny.” How could she even remotely think that he didn’t want her? Hadn’t she felt anything when they’d kissed? Hadn’t she felt his longing? It wasn’t for his sake he was pushing her away, it was for hers. “Because I have wanted you for a very long time,” he admitted quietly. And then, because this was Laurel, he bared his soul to her. “I actually thought I was over you. Until I saw you again. And then I realized that all I had managed to do was bury my feelings.” And they had come back—in spades. He sighed, resigned to his fate. “But they’re not gone and they’re not dead. They’re still there, waiting for one of us to come to our senses.”

  One of us? She shook her head, confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “My coming to my senses would be finally accepting that it’s never going to happen between us.” And then he smiled again. “You coming to your senses would mean that you realized that you wanted to be with me all along and that you’d made a mistake turning me down when I proposed.”

  She didn’t want to stand there, philosophizing or trying to solve some theoretical puzzle. She wanted Trent to break down her barriers, wanted him to make her feel whole for the first time in her life. Because if anyone could do it, it was Trent.

  More than anything else in the world, she wanted desperately to feel like a real woman instead of just a two-dimensional paper cutout. Without fear, without demons. Taking a breath, Laurel wrapped her arms around his neck again, bringing her body tantalizingly close to his, the heat all but sealing them together. Her eyes pleaded her case before she said anything.

  “Make love to me, Trent.”

  His mouth curved as he slowly shook his head. “Now, right there,” he told her gently, “you’ve got it all wrong.”

  “Wrong?” What was she getting wrong? Was he going to make her beg? Because she would if she had to. Just this once, she would. He nodded in response to the single word she echoed. “I’m not going to make love to you, Laurel.”

  Her heart stood still, and then began to slowly splinter. “You’re not?” she heard herself ask, her voice echoing in her head.

  “No, I’m not,” he told her. Releasing her hands, he slipped his around her waist.

  “I’m going to make love with you.”

  She felt like a ball in play at a tennis match. “You’re confusing me.”

  The key word here was with and he could see that she’d missed its importance.

  “We’re partners here, Laurel. You’re not some vessel meant to satisfy me, not some life-size, plastic blow-up doll for me to do things to.”

  Trent was trying to keep his adrenaline in check, but it was far from easy. This was something that he’d wanted, dreamed of, for a very long time. But just as he hadn’t pushed his advantage years ago, he wasn’t about to do it now. Her emotional wellbeing was at stake and he cared too much about her to sacrifice it.

  “Lovemaking,” he told Laurel, “is a mutual experience.”

  As he spoke, Trent began to kiss the side of her neck ever so lightly, first one side, then the other. The sound of her sharply drawing in her breath only served to excite him. He had to restrain himself to keep from upping the tempo. Timing, he knew, was everything, and anything worth having was worth waiting for. And he had waited for this for a very, very long time.

  Laurel felt as if she were on fire.

  Sheets of warmth rose up within her, beginning at her knees and traveling upward until she was almost certain she was shooting flames from the tips of her hair. She twisted against Trent, leaning into him, into the wild, exhilarating magic that his mouth created for her. Desire took root within her, making her want more. She felt his hands on her, not roughly, or possessively, like Matt before he’d stopped coming to her, but ever so gently. His fingers and palms just barely touched her at first, moving along the length of her as if to memorize every inch.

  Laurel felt herself heating, responding.

  She’d never experienced this before. A dampness in her inner core, a desire that broke out of its bonds. There was a rushing sound in her ears, as if she were going down for the third time, being towed under by a giant, overpowering wave.

  And then his mouth was on hers, kissing her so that he drew the very essence from her, melting her into a formless being. Laurel literally clung to him to keep from slipping to the floor.

  She felt Trent smiling against her lips.

  Did she amuse him? Despite the fact that she was no longer a virgin, did her lack of sophistication entertain Trent? Laurel broke contact, although even with the negative thoughts erupting in her head, it wasn’t easy. “You’re laughing at me,” she said hoarsely.

  “I’m enjoying you,” he contradicted. There was a very good reason for him to be smiling, even as his lips were otherwise occupied. “I never thought this day would come.”

  Struggling to collect himself, to think logically in the midst of this delicious tempest, he looked toward the staircase. They were out in the open here—where Cody could see them if he woke up. Trent couldn’t predict how the boy would react to seeing his mother kissing someone else and he certainly didn’t want the boy to see anything more.

  He gave her a way out—one last time. And fervently prayed she wouldn’t take it.

  “If you want this to continue, we need to go to your room.”

  “If I want this to continue,” she echoed. He made it sound as if she were the only one who was feeling something. She put the question to him. “If I said no, you’d just walk away?”

  How could he make her understand? “There’s no ‘just’ to it, but I’d walk away, yes.”

  Her heart sank. “Then you don’t feel anything?”

  He searched her face. “Is that what you think?”

  She fought back tears. “What else am I supposed to think?”

  “That I’m not a rutting pig, that I don’t see you as having been put on this earth just to satisfy my basic needs.” A surge of anger spiked through him because she put him in the same category as the men who had failed her. Didn’t she know he was different? “That I respect you enough to withdraw and be miserably frustrated if you don’t want me to go on.”

  He was saying all the right things. Now she struggled not to cry for a different reason.

  “I want you to go on,” she told him, her voice so soft he had to lean in to hear her.

  Then, so that there was no doubt in his mind, Laurel took his hand and led the way up the stairs. She congratulated herself on making it to the landing without her knees buckling. This was a huge step for her and she couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t afraid.

  But she was even more afraid of not doing it.

  Still holding him by the hand, she led Trent into the master bedroom. The bedroom she had briefly shared with Matt until, disgusted, he had opted for separate sleeping arrangements.

  Her eyes on his, Laurel held her breath as she slowly pushed the door closed.

  The sound of the lock clicking into place echoed in her head.

  They were alone.

  Together.

  This was really going to happen.

  Her hands turned icy. She could feel her heart hammering, its tempo increasing.

  “I have to tell you something,” Laurel began, just as he started to take her into his arms.

  Braced for anything, he had no idea what to expect. “Go ahead.”

  Summoning her courage, she blurted the words out. “I haven’t done…this…very much since Cody
was born.” Pausing, she pressed her lips together before continuing. He needed to know this so that he wouldn’t expect too much from her.

  “Matt said I was frigid and not worth the trouble.”

  Matt grew steadily more despicable in his eyes. Trent couldn’t help commenting,

  “Sounds like Matt was one hell of a winner.” It was difficult to refrain from asking why she’d married the man to begin with. She shrugged in response, not knowing what to say. Matt had been right in his assessment. She was frigid. The moment he put his hands on her, the second he dragged her over to him, something inside of her wanted to retreat. To run. And it annoyed the hell out of him. Very slowly, slipping his hands along her face, Trent began kissing her again. Starting not where he had left off downstairs, but from scratch, as if she had to be won all over again.

  As if he were taking nothing for granted just because she’d brought him up here.

  He wasn’t kissing her as if he knew they were destined to make love, she realized. He kissed her as if he had no idea where this would lead, only knowing that he enjoyed the moment. Immensely.

  As did she, Laurel realized with joy, her pulse racing wildly.

  Fear, ever her companion, pricked at the edges of her consciousness. But for once it was being blocked. Blocked by a wall of flame as Trent’s strong hands languidly roamed over her body. Her temperature rose steadily.

  She burned for him.

  That first night, after the wedding, Matt had all but ripped off her clothes, saying something about wanting to finally see what he had paid for. It was a crude reference to the fact that he’d paid for her mother’s surgery, as she’d asked. It had made her feel dirty, cheap. As if she’d sold herself. Because, in effect, she had. Despite her feelings, she’d done her best to keep her end of the bargain. But she had no experience when it came to this frontier. Because of her past, her only framework was pain—and fear.

  Matt pleasured himself with her that first night without a single word of endearment. She might as well have not been there, at least not in spirit. Without anything else to go on, Laurel half expected the same from Trent, and that did scare her. But she had no other way to express her thanks for everything he’d done for her son, and to go on, Laurel half expected the same from Trent, and that did scare her. But she had no other way to express her thanks for everything he’d done for her son, and she’d sensed that this was what he wanted. And she wanted to please him.

  She hadn’t expected to be blown away.

  Hadn’t expected to feel anything but the desire for this to be over.

  The wild, erratic sensations just kept coming in overpowering waves, completely disorienting her. Trent’s open-mouth kisses along her skin wreaked havoc on her resistance. Making it a thing of the past.

  Completely stunned, Laurel felt her body yearning for him. But as he slowly drew her clothes away from her skin, exposing more and more of her to his touch, she felt warmer, not colder. Felt a strange, exciting urgency grip her, demanding release.

  She’d never experienced this before. She could almost feel her blood surging through her veins, rushing throughout her body. And yet, it all seemed to center in her very core.

  Her eyes flew open as she felt the onslaught of an exhilarating explosion. Wideeyed, stunned, she stared at him, speechless. Whatever this was, it was wonderful!

  His smile imprinted itself on her lips as he kissed her mouth. He knew what was happening by the look of wonder in her eyes, by the way her body had arched and bucked against him.

  “This is a first, isn’t it?” he asked softly.

  Laurel had all but scrunched the comforter with grasping hands as she scrambled to catch just a little more of the powerful eruption. She moved her head up and down, her eyes on his.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He liked being the first to bring her to this plateau of absolute pleasure. Not because it fed his ego, but because it awarded them a shared intimacy that Laurel had never had with another man.

  “We’ll see if we can do it again for you,” Trent murmured.

  He brought his mouth down on hers once more and went on making love with her, his clever hands bringing her ecstasy that went on forever. Just when she fell back, exhausted, Trent would find a new way to arouse her and the eruptions within her began building all over again. She rode wave after wave, struggling to go on breathing even as joy and triumph ricocheted through her.

  She’d never dreamed that these kinds of sensations existed.

  And then, finally, when she felt as if the last ounce of strength had been wrenched from her, Trent shifted his position so that his body covered hers. But unlike when Matt had moved in to claim his final moment, there was no oppressive weight, no struggle for her to catch her breath. Trent pivoted his weight on his elbows so that his body barely touched hers. This teased her almost unmercifully.

  Wanting full contact so badly, Laurel arched her torso up to his.

  Trent threaded his fingers through hers, bringing their joined hands above her head a beat before he sheathed himself within her. Kissing her over and over again, he wove his magic as before. And then, sealed together, he moved, at first slowly, gently, taking his time before he increased the tempo.

  Had her mouth not been against his, she would have gasped as the sensations mounted. There they were again. She raced to keep up, her hips echoing the movement of his. Sealed together, they sprinted forward to that one beautiful place where euphoria erupted over them in a swift, drenching shower. Another climax rocked her body, this one so strong, so deep that she bit down on her lower lip to keep from shouting out in elation. And then, like sunshine ebbing into a receding sunset, the exhilaration faded away, slipped through her fingers and her soul, until it was all but gone, leaving behind only a wonderful memory.

  Wow.

  The single word echoed over and over again in her brain.

  Dazed beyond belief, Laurel took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, trying to calm her rapid pulse. She turned her head to look at him, the man who had, at long last, unlocked her prison door. “I didn’t realize that it could be like this,” she admitted honestly.

  “Because no one took the trouble to do it right,” he told her simply.

  Besides him, Trent thought, she had only had one other partner. Why hadn’t her husband taken the time to help her through this and show her what good lovemaking was all about? Caring about your partner, doing what you could to give pleasure was what true lovemaking was about. He raised himself up on his elbow, looking down at her. “No offense to your late husband, but he sounds like a jerk.”

  She looked away. “It wasn’t his fault.”

  “Everyone who’s a jerk should take responsibility for being one,” he pointed out. He had no patience with self-centered people and, from all that he had gleaned, Matt Greer had been the poster boy for narcissism. “He should have been gentle with you.”

  Matt should have been a lot of things, she couldn’t help thinking. But the man was dead and there was no point in speaking ill of him. It didn’t change anything. “He didn’t know.”

  Trent’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “About what your father did?”

  She continued to look at the far wall. She didn’t want to think about her father. All she wanted to do was savor what had just happened a little bit longer. “I never told Matt about my father.”

  Trent stared at her. How could she have married someone she hadn’t trusted enough to share with him the main traumatic event of her childhood? It took everything he had not to ask her why she’d married the man, why, once married, she’d kept her secret to herself. Instead, Trent merely said, “He still should have gone slowly.”

  What was done was done. “I don’t want to talk about Matt,” she told him.

  All right, he could understand that. That was then, this was now. Shifting gears, he wound his finger through a strand of her hair that rested against her breast. Ever so lightly, he drew his fingertip along her skin.
“So, what do you want to talk about?”

  Desire flared in her eyes. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

  Slipping his finger from the curl, he put his hand onto the swell of her hips and gently pulled her to him.

  “Your wish is my command,” he murmured, just before he kissed her and began the whole wild ride all over again.

  Chapter Twelve

  The moment she opened the door to admit Trent, Laurel stepped back to get out of the way. With his arms laden with various paraphernalia, Trent’s face was hardly visible. Surprised, she watched as item after item rained down from his arms onto the marble floor. “What is all that?” she asked. She looked at the last item he set down.

  “Is that a tent?”

  “That’s a tent,” he confirmed cheerfully. He knew he should have just carried it all to the back, but he wanted to take a breather. And he couldn’t kiss her if she couldn’t get close to him. Acting on his thought, he brushed his lips against hers.

  “And the rest of all this is camping gear.”

  Besides the tent, there was a lantern, rolled-up sleeping bags, miscellaneous things she didn’t even begin to recognize, and on his back a knapsack stuffed to capacity.

  She looked at him, puzzled. “Did I miss something? Are we going camping?”

  Laurel tried not to frown as she asked the question. If pressed, she’d admit that she really wasn’t into roughing it. The idea of sleeping on the hard, insect-infested ground didn’t thrill her, although, for Trent, she would be willing to give it a try.

  “‘We’ aren’t,” he informed her, removing the knapsack from his back and dropping it on the floor beside the rest of the supplies. “Cody and I are.”

  “You’re taking Cody on a camping trip?”

  He wondered if she realized just how wide her eyes had opened. For a moment, he thought of stringing her along for a little bit, teasing her, but took pity on her.

  “Just to the backyard,” he qualified.