HOLLY AND MISTLETOE

by Susan Mallery

  The condom was flat and round, sort of an ivory color. She inhaled the faint odor of latex.

  "You can unroll it," he said.

  She held it between her thumbs and forefingers, then did as he suggested. When it was completely unrolled, she stared at it. The condom hung limply from her fingers.

  "Somehow I was expecting more," she said.

  "Still scared?" he asked.

  She wiggled it slightly. "Not of this."

  "Good." He rose to his feet. "I'm going to get more champagne. I'll be right back."

  Holly stared at the condom. It looked like a weird little balloon. An idea formed in the back of her mind. She tried to ignore it, but once there, the idea demanded attention. She glanced toward the kitchen, but didn't see Jordan. After taking a deep breath, she cupped the open end of the condom, then brought it to her mouth.

  It blew up perfectly. With three deep breaths she had it nearly as big as a loaf of bread. Behind her glass clinked against the wood table. Jordan had returned.

  He crouched in front of her, took the blown-up condom from her now-shaking fingers and grinned. "Ah, I'm afraid I'm not going to meet your expectations."

  "Oh, no." She buried her face in her hands and heard a whistle of air as he deflated the protection.

  "My brothers and I found out they also make great water balloons."

  She risked a quick glance through her parted fingers. He was sitting next to her on the quilt. Firelight made his dark hair shine. His face was in shadows, but she could see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

  When he saw her looking at him, the smile faded. "I want to make love with you," he said slowly. "But I'm not going to rush you. I want your first time to be perfect."

  She didn't care about perfection. She only wanted to be with him. "Tell me what to do."

  "Trust me."

  "I do."

  * * *

  Chapter 14

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  Jordan touched her face, then trailed his fingers down to her shoulders. Holly remembered the last time he had stroked her and the feelings he'd evoked. Could she do the same to him?

  She frowned. "Would you like me to touch you? I mean would you enjoy it?"

  "'Enjoy' isn't the word I'd use." He must have caught her confusion. He smiled. "I was thinking more of ecstasy."

  She wasn't sure she could do ecstasy, but she was willing to try. She shifted until she was kneeling in front of him, then leaned forward. He didn't move as she got closer. Instead of touching his mouth with hers, she pressed her lips against his neck, in that sensitive spot just below his left ear.

  His warm skin appealed to her. After several chaste kisses she risked touching him with her tongue. He tasted of himself, a combination of masculinity and temptation. A faint tremor rippled through him.

  She continued her exploration, tracing the curve of his ear, then trailing a damp path to his mouth. As she kissed him, he held her arms and lowered them both to the quilt.

  Bodies touched, tongues stroked, breath mingled. Their slow dance of arousal left her weak and shaking, but she didn't want to stop. She figured that she'd gotten lucky with Jordan. He was a kind, gentle man who made her heart beat faster and her thighs tremble. For some reason he liked her, even wanted her. Men like him weren't usually interested in women like her, and she didn't understand what combination of circumstances had allowed him to find her appealing. Whatever it was, she was grateful. She wanted her first time to be with him because she knew he would make it wonderful. She didn't even mind being afraid.

  She lay half on top of him. He shifted her so one of her legs slid between his. She braced one arm on the floor. Her free hand rested on his chest. As he tilted his head and explored her mouth, she wondered if it was all right to touch him as he'd touched her.

  Tentatively, almost hoping he wouldn't notice, she spread her fingers and began moving across his chest. He moaned low in his throat. He'd laced his fingers in her hair, and now he urged her closer. The rate of his breathing increased, as did hers.

  "Unbutton my shirt," he whispered, then drew her lower lip into his mouth. The sucking sensation forced all conscious thought from her mind, and it was several seconds before she could respond to his request.

  Unbutton his shirt. Easy enough, she thought, reminding herself she'd unbuttoned her own shirt countless times. Surely this couldn't be harder. Could it?

  She slid her hand to the center of his chest, then followed the line to the slight V below his collar. The first button came undone easily. As did the second. Then she noticed the combination of hot skin and soft, crinkly hair brushing against her knuckles. How was she supposed to concentrate while that was going on? When combined with the delicious things Jordan was doing to her lips and tongue, she didn't have a prayer.

  She broke the kiss, then pushed herself into a sitting position. "I want to see what I'm doing," she said.

  He raised his arms and tucked his hands behind his head. "Be my guest."

  It was both easier and harder to work this way. Although she wasn't distracted by his magical touch, she was aware of him watching her. She forced herself to ignore his dark gaze and instead pay attention to his shirt.

  The rest of the buttons opened easily. She worked quickly until she reached the waistband of his jeans. Now what?

  "Pull out the shirt," he said helpfully.

  She could do that. She tugged until the fabric came free. The cotton was warm from his body, and wrinkled. She unfastened the last three buttons, then drew the center of his shirt apart.

  His chest was bare to her gaze. She stared at him. She'd seen men's chests on television and in magazines. She'd even seen Jordan's, but this time she was responsible for baring his skin to her gaze.

  She could feel the heat of him, inhale his scent. He was alive and real and right in front of her. Tentatively, half-afraid he would protest, she placed her hand on his flat belly.

  His muscles rippled under her touch. She glanced at him, but his face gave nothing away. His eyes were closed as if he were completely focused on what she was doing.

  She moved her hand up slowly, delighting in the way his chest hair felt against her palm. When she reached his collarbone, she brushed the shirt off his shoulders. He half sat up and shrugged out of the garment, then sank back onto the quilt.

  Now his eyes were open. He placed his hands on her hips. "Straddle me," he said.

  She shifted over him, but this time when she came down, she wasn't on his belly. She could feel his hips between her thighs and something else. Something hard and long. Something that made her insides feel funny and that place between her legs tighten.

  He held out his hands. She laced her fingers with his. Slowly he began to draw her closer. She had to lean toward him, then allow him to lower her to his chest. The action required cooperation and trust.

  He met her halfway, touching her mouth with his. They kissed. She felt herself slipping into a world she didn't understand. A world of sensation and desire. She wanted and needed, but the specifics required eluded her. Her body strained toward the release he'd offered her once before. She wanted to feel his hands on her, his mouth touching her breasts.

  She broke the kiss and lowered her head until she could kiss his chest. She tasted him there, then trailed through the dark hair to his belly button. She nipped his skin, delighting in his involuntary reactions. He groaned when she suckled his flat nipples. He sighed when she ran her hands from his shoulders to the waistband of his jeans. He gave a half laugh, half strangled moan when she kissed the sweet spot under his ear.

  Still straddling him, she leaned close and whispered, "I want to see you."

  His hands moved to his belt. As she moved off him, he unbuttoned his jeans. When he sat up, he removed his boots and socks, then put his hands on the waistband.

  "You sure?" he asked.

  She nodded. Somehow still being fully dressed made her feel safer.

  He pushed off the rest of his clothing, then lay back do
wn.

  Holly stared intently at his feet. Her courage had momentarily deserted her.

  "Scared?" he asked.

  "Uh-huh. But you have nice feet."

  "Thanks. Check out the knees. They aren't too bad, either."

  Knees? Well, okay, that would be safe.

  "Give me your hand," he said.

  "What? Are you crazy? You want me to touch it?"

  Involuntarily her gaze shifted to his face. Now she was in the same trouble, but only from the other end.

  "Are all virgins this much work?" he asked, his voice teasing.

  "Gosh, I really hope so. I'd hate to be the only one." She was sitting next to him, her hip pressed against his. It would be so simple to just look down, but she couldn't.

  "Give me your hand," he said again.

  She drew in a deep breath and did as he requested.

  "Now close your eyes."

  That was harder, but slowly she lowered her lids. Surprisingly the darkness comforted her. What she couldn't see couldn't hurt her. Not perfect logic, but it worked for the situation.

  He drew her hand across his belly. She felt his skin and the crisp hairs. Then her hand bumped into something else. Something so soft it made her think of velvet and satin blended together.

  She relaxed her fingers and let him guide her. She found herself holding him. He was long and hard, a steel sheath encased in whisper-smooth skin. From top to bottom she let her fingers discover him.

  At last she opened her eyes and stared at him. Her pale fingers gripped him confidently, as if she'd done this a hundred times before. Okay, maybe not a hundred, but at least ten. She touched the thick hair protecting his maleness, then slipped lower to the soft, tender sacs between his legs.

  The contrast of shapes and textures amazed her. He was so different from herself. Male to her female. She studied his long, lean legs, then brushed the tops of his thighs.

  "This is nice," she said, amazed that it was.

  "I'm glad you approve."

  She continued touching him, then moved her hand up and down in the motion he'd shown her. "Do you like this?"

  A muscle tightened in his jaw. "Oh, yeah."

  She glanced from him to the deflated condom resting on the rug by the leg of the coffee table. "It's good that those things stretch. Otherwise, it would never fit."

  He gave a strangled laugh, then grabbed her shoulders and lowered her to the floor. "Enough," he said. "You're driving me crazy."

  "What did I do wrong?" she asked, suddenly panicked. "Did I hurt you?"

  "Nothing's wrong," he said, looming over her. The fire burned bright in his eyes. "Everything is right, Holly. That's part of the problem. When you're touching me, I start to lose control."

  "And that's bad?"

  He smiled slowly. "That's very good."

  "Then why—"

  He cut off her words with a kiss. His tongue plunged inside and circled her own. He tasted her thoroughly.

  She reveled in the feel of him on top of her. When he reached for the hem of her sweater, she helped him pull it over her head. The last time he'd done that, she had been shy, afraid to show herself to him. Now she wanted him to touch her bare skin and take her to that place she'd been before.

  Her bra followed her sweater onto the growing pile of clothing. Jordan cupped her full breasts, stroking them gently, teasing her nipples into tautness, then drawing the tight points into his mouth. His fingers traced patterns on her ribs before reaching for the snap on her jeans. She didn't want him to stop kissing her breasts, but she did want his hands between her legs, so she raised her hips enough to push off the rest of her clothing.

  And then she was naked before him. For a moment she worried about those extra pounds and the fact that no man had ever seen her completely bare. Then he ran his hands from her ankles to her thighs, and she didn't care about anything but being with him.

  His mouth settled on her breast. She held his head in her hands and urged him to suckle deeper. His bare legs brushed against hers. His hair tickled. She felt his hardness pressing into her hip, and wondered what it would feel like when he entered her. Would it hurt? Would it feel wonderful?

  Then his fingers slipped between her thighs, and she forgot to worry about anything. The tension she remembered from the last time they'd done this returned, only faster. Her muscles tightened as her whole body prepared itself for release.

  Then his fingers were gone, and his mouth moved away from her breasts. She wanted to sob in protest. Why was he stopping? But he didn't stop completely. He trailed kisses down her ribs to the slight mound of her belly. He paused long enough to dip into her belly button and make her squirm.

  Had she known what he was going to do, she would have tried to stop him. Had she known how good it was going to feel, she would have begged him to do it sooner.

  He kissed her lower and lower on her belly, then moved down to kiss her thighs. When she would have closed her legs against him, he nudged to keep her knees apart. Fighting embarrassment and embracing the hopeful belief that anything this wonderful couldn't possibly be bad, she did as he requested.

  Then he kissed her there. A slow kiss, tasting her, teasing her, making her want to scream and faint and beg him to never, ever stop.

  Tension returned and with it the promise of a release beyond anything she'd ever imagined. In just a few minutes she was panting and ready, poised yet caught in pleasure too wonderful to end.

  The intimacy of the act delighted her. That he would want to touch her that way, there. She felt her body begin to collect itself. Pleasure spiraled, circling higher and higher as the pitch increased.

  He flicked his tongue faster, and she was his. Drawn up and out, ripped apart, then put back together. Disassembled with every beat of her heart, assembled by the touch of his tongue.

  When her body stopped shaking, she found herself in his arms. He held her close and brushed the hair from her face.

  "Jordan?" Her voice shook.

  He smiled gently. "How was it?"

  She laughed. "I know you don't have to ask. I vaguely recall mumbling something, and I'm sure you heard."

  "You weren't mumbling, you were screaming." The twinkle in his eyes told her he was teasing.

  "I'm not the screaming type."

  "I could change that."

  She sighed. "I think you could." Something flexed against her hip. She wiggled closer. "Now, please."

  He looked into her face as if trying to judge her true feelings on the subject, then he pushed up and reached for one of the condoms. She'd been afraid that watching him put it on would be awkward, but instead she found herself fighting tears. His willingness to protect her, his genuine concern, touched her down to her heart. Emotions filled her chest. She didn't want to identify them now. Later, when she was alone, she would figure out what they meant.

  He knelt between her legs. Their gazes locked. This was a moment of no return. Once the act had been completed, she would no longer be a virgin.

  "Yes," she said.

  He pressed into her. At first she felt a slight pressure. He was large and she was untried, so her body had to stretch to accommodate him.

  He leaned forward and kissed her right breast. The slow tug as he drew her nipple into his mouth sparked an answering response deep inside. He suckled again, then pushed in.

  The brief pain surprised her. She stiffened and he stopped.

  "It's okay," she said. "I guess now you know I wasn't kidding about being a virgin."

  "Holly, I—"

  "No." She flexed her hips, urging him in deeper. "I want this. I want you."

  With one steady thrust he buried himself in her. When she had adjusted to his width and length, he withdrew and plunged inside again. She closed her eyes and found herself caught up in the rhythm of their erotic dance. The low stirring became tension, followed quickly by the urge to press on to a release.

  She arched toward him. He moved in and out of her more quickly, then reached a hand betwee
n them and touched her most sensitive place.

  His fingers brought her to the edge, then she found herself calling his name. Once again she was caught up in the spiraling magic. This time he followed her, straining against her, his muscles hard, his face a mask of intense pleasure. Together they completed the ancient dance of male and female, afterward settling into the safety and warmth of each other's arms.

  * * *

  When Jordan rolled over and opened his eyes, the room was dark. His internal clock told him dawn was still a couple of hours away. At first he didn't recognize the shadowy shapes in the room, then Holly shifted, cuddling against him, and he remembered everything.

  They'd made love. He smiled slowly and reached out to stroke her smooth skin. Her heat warmed him to his soul.

  After exhausting themselves in front of the Christmas tree, they'd come upstairs to her room. Not only was her bed bigger, but neither of them wanted to disturb Mistletoe, who was in Jordan's closet.

  Once in bed, Holly had gotten shy, wanting to put on a nightgown instead of sleeping naked. When words hadn't worked to persuade her, he'd tried kisses. He wasn't sure who had persuaded whom, because they'd ended up making love again, slowly, erotically.

  He could still see her body beneath his, feel her passion and taste her sweet skin. She'd been all he'd imagined her to be, and more. He'd wanted to take her again and again, but sleep had claimed them before he could act on his fantasy.

  Now, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing and fingering the silky hair he admired, he wondered how he'd gotten so damn lucky. He'd never met a woman like Holly, and he doubted he would again. She was honest and open, loving, generous, pretty and sexy enough to make him hard in less than five seconds. In short, she was perfect, and that scared him to death.

  He slipped out of bed and made his way down the stairs. Once in his makeshift bedroom, he flipped on the lamp by the bed, then checked on Mistletoe. She was curled up on his sweater, dozing. He reached above her and collected his robe, then put it on. After tying the belt, he crouched in front of the cat. Mistletoe glared at him, then spit softly.