by Noelle Adams
“I like your pajamas,” he said, tangling his fingers through her long hair that was wavy from the braids. “I bought them for you. You look beautiful.”
She sniffed disdainfully, but then straddled his lap. “The pajamas will have to do, since I’m just not going to wait anymore.” She ground herself eagerly against his groin, evidently delighted when she discovered he was already getting hard.
“Oh damn,” he bit out, cupping her ass in both of his hands. “Baby, are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. I’ve been sure for a whole year. You’re the one who was dilly-dallying all this time.”
Cyrus couldn’t keep his hands off her anymore—she was everything he wanted, warm and willing and eager, on his lap. She gasped when he slid his hands up under her flannel pajama shirt and caressed her nipples with his thumbs. Her head fell back, and her lips parted in obvious pleasure. As he kept fondling her, her gasps changed to low moans that did torturous things to the ache in his groin.
She was so beautiful, so responsive, Cyrus’s vision glazed over. Summoning the last of his control, he eased her off his lap and stood up.
She made a squeak of objection. “No!” she demanded, “No! You can’t change your mind now!”
He stared down at her, uncomprehending for a minute. Then he realized what she thought. “No,” he said hoarsely, “I haven’t changed my mind. It’s just that, if I don’t take you to bed now, I’ll have to just take you on the couch.”
She giggled, her face relieved and excited both. “Well, that wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
“Come here, baby,” he said, reaching down to swing her up into his arms. “Let me take you to bed.”
“No objections here.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him fondly on the jaw. “I love you, Cyrus Owen.”
“Good,” he said, starting toward his bedroom with her in his arms, vaguely hoping he wouldn’t run into anyone on the way. Surely his father and the domestic staff would know to stay out of the way this evening. “I love you too. I’m sorry it took me so long to get it together. I just kept thinking I wasn’t allowed. I couldn’t have everything.”
“Well,” she said tartly, “you can’t have everything, but you can have me.”
He did have her, and he couldn’t help but acknowledge that she had him too. She must really love him. She’d waited for him for a really long time. She hadn’t given up on him, however many reasons she’d had to do so.
Until she’d entered his life, he’d never known what it was to truly trust and be trusted, to know and be known, to love and be loved.
Tonight was just one of a long series of Christmas Eves they had spent together, but it was the first in another long line of them—where they’d be together in an entirely new way.
He realized it was exactly as it should be, and it wasn’t going to change—not as long as he was breathing.
It had been a long time coming, but they had a lifetime of Christmas Eves waiting for them after all.
Teaser Excerpt from Storm Front
If you enjoyed Eight Christmas Eves, you might enjoy Storm Front by the same author.
Allison didn’t know why she’d lied to Michael about being a reporter, but something about the bitterness in his eyes had troubled her, and she hadn’t wanted to risk any further conflict in such a crisis situation.
It also occurred to her that she might learn something useful about him, something that could help her with a story. She’d always been driven, and she’d never been ashamed of her ambition. She’d just gotten the promotion she’d been working toward for three years, and the last thing she was going to do was let a perfect opportunity slip by her.
She didn’t know how this chance encounter with Michael Martin might help her career, and she didn’t even know if she’d want to use it.
If he found out she was a reporter, however, she’d blow her only advantage.
That summer she’d interned for his father, she’d been crazy about Michael. It wasn’t just a teenage crush. It had been real, intense, and physical. The more time she spent working with him, the deeper the bond had grown.
She’d given him her virginity after being caught up in a rush of feeling and desire one evening. She didn’t regret it. At the time, she’d been sure that Michael had valued her and appreciated their night together, although it was obvious he wouldn’t pursue a relationship. She was going away to college soon anyway.
Now, however, she didn’t know if he’d ever felt anything for her at all.
When she’d known him in Whitesville, he’d been quiet and intense. He’d always been treated like a king by their town—because of his father—but he’d never seemed to be a spoiled asshole.
Either she’d been wrong or he’d changed.
The years since then had confirmed Michael’s reputation as a player and a ruthless businessman. His romantic affairs were high-profile and numerous. It wasn’t until recently that he’d made even the gesture of settling down with one woman, and that engagement had ended dramatically—with Gina throwing the engagement ring at Michael’s face in the middle of the lobby of his corporate headquarters and screaming about his being a liar and a cheat.
It was hard to hold onto the fond memory of a lost love when the man had proven himself to be so cold and heartless in the years that followed.
Allison had put it behind her, and she certainly wasn’t going to leave an injured man stranded on the side of the road.
But she also didn’t really trust him, so she kept the fact that she was a reporter in her pocket.
She was soaked, shaky, and exhausted when they reached the side door of the big house. It was locked, of course. Allison considered a few options, swiping rain out of her eyes. She’d done a certain amount of snooping when she was younger, and she still knew how to pick a lock.
Without hesitating, Michael shrugged out of his jacket, balled it around his fist, and broke the small window next to the door with a sharp jab against the glass. When he reached through the window, he was able to unlock and open the door.
Allison had to admit his method was more efficient than fiddling with the lock.
She let out a long breath when they stepped out of the wind and rain. It was dark in the back hallway so she flipped a light switch.
“No power,” Michael muttered, when the lights failed to come on. He was dripping onto the tile floor, his expensive shirt and dark trousers pasted to his lean body. The wound on his head was still bleeding, and the sight of smeared blood trailing down to his neck was very disturbing.
With a sinking in her heart, Allison stepped over and picked up a landline phone. “Phones are dead too. We’re out in the middle of nowhere here, so who knows when we’ll get them back. We’ll have to make do, I guess, until the storm passes.”
Michael wiped some of the moisture off his face. He was still ridiculously handsome, and he projected an even stronger sense of power and masculinity than he had when he was younger. “It’s better than being out on the road. Hopefully, this old place will hold up.”
“It’s pretty sturdy.” She sounded more confident than she felt as the windows clattered with a particularly fierce gust of wind. “The first thing we should do is check out your injury.”
“I’m fine,” Michael said, frowning at her with an arrogance that immediately annoyed her. “And I’d prefer not to be babied.”
“Babied? Are you serious? You crashed your car and concussed yourself! I’m not planning to serve you tea and chicken soup, but we should at least wipe up the blood.”
Michael touched his injured head, as if he hadn’t realized it was bleeding. Then he arched his brows. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re the one who was driving in the middle of the road, so I have you to thank for my crashed car and potential concussion.”
Allison snarled at him. Never had she met such a stubborn, spoiled man. He definitely hadn’t improved with age. “I’m the one who thought of this place and hauled your arrogant ass h
ere. While we’re spewing out indictments, let’s not forget that.” She shook her head impatiently. “Why the hell are we arguing? I’m going to look for some medical supplies. If you don’t fall over on your way there, maybe you can find the kitchen and see if there’s any food.”
She’d started down the hall when Michael’s voice stopped her. “While you’re looking around, see if you can find some dry clothes.”
She aimed a questioning look over her shoulder, not so much at his words but at his slightly thick tone.
The erotic texture of his voice reminded her vividly of the night she’d spent with him. He’d murmured throaty endearments about how beautiful, how sweet, how incredible she was. He’d made her experience depths of pleasure she hadn’t known were possible.
Her body was suddenly washed with a hot wave of visceral desire. Even in wet clothes and with a smug frown on his face, Michael’s strong, lean body and innate power drew her irresistibly. His sopping shirt clung to his broad shoulders and tight abdomen, and the wet fabric revealed the rippling of muscles beneath it.
She wanted him. So deeply she was astounded and terrified.
And it only got worse when his blue-gray eyes smoldered with an answering heat. “You need to find something dry to wear.”
Allison glanced down at herself and realized that her own clothes revealed as much of her body as his did. She sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her tight nipples through her shirt. More heat coursed through her as realized what he’d seen and how he’d reacted to it.
She would face more than one danger in this house, stranded alone with Michael in the middle of a storm.
“I might have a minor head injury,” Michael murmured, an even more erotic texture to his tone. “But the rest of me is working just fine.”
***
If you would like to contact Rachel Curtis, please feel free to email her at [email protected].
What Once Was Perfect
The Wardham Series, Book 1
Zoe York
DEDICATION
from the past, for the future
In memory of my Mom, one of the original self-publishers, who taught me that I can do anything.
For my sons, who are daily reminders of the primacy of love, and in memory of Lynda, who helped raise them.
One
Laney slid her laptop into her leather messenger bag and flicked off the office light. She paused at her secretary’s desk to steal a peppermint chocolate square and drop off a light blue jewelry box wrapped in a white ribbon.
The tap and scratch of pen on paper sounded from across the hall and she hesitated. She could sneak out, but she wanted this resolved before the holidays. The affair with Rick had been a mistake from the beginning, they were on the same page about that, but how do you move back to just being friends and colleagues?
The door pushed open as she knocked, and Rick looked up from his desk. “You’re off, then?”
“Yep. I just wanted to say…Merry Christmas.”
“You sure I can’t convince you to come to the lake house with me?”
She shook her head with a rueful smile. “Let’s not do this again, Rick. I’m not the girl you should take home to meet your mom.”
“I know. Woulda been convenient if you were.” He returned her bittersweet expression and gestured for her to take a seat. “Don’t you ever want more, though?”
“I…I used to.” She sagged into one of the two chairs across from him and scrubbed her face with her hands. Once upon a time, she’d wanted it all. “If I was capable of falling in love, you’d be the perfect guy.”
“Shame that’s not how it actually works.”
She bit her lip and nodded, although it wasn’t like she was an expert on healthy relationships. Quite the opposite. Laney had banned emotional entanglements from her life a long time ago. Never again would she be vulnerable and give her heart to someone. It wasn’t worth the pain.
She barely did physical relationships, only agreeing to enter into a sexual arrangement if the interested party understood he would need to get tested and be monogamous for the duration. Condoms and birth control were mandatory. Most men cooled off in a hurry when they heard those terms. Rick had chuckled and scheduled a follow up discussion for a week later, when he presented her with a clean bill of health.
They joined DermaNorth at the same time a year earlier, both fresh out of plastic surgery residency programs, and she had seen him date two other women in the intervening months. Both relationships had been casual, brief and ended amicably, exactly what she liked. So they negotiated terms: Laney wanted an escort to fundraising events and didn’t like overnight guests; Rick didn’t want to leave in the middle of the night, but promised not to linger in the morning or expect breakfast.
“I’m sorry that I changed the rules on you.”
Seriously, what kind of guy apologizes after a woman breaks up with him? Laney hated herself a little bit for not being open to exploring something more with Rick. But while their time together had been nice, that’s all it had been. Physical compatibility and pleasant conversation. “What happened? Is it the holidays? More pressure from your parents?”
“Honestly? I think it was my birthday. Another year older, and what do I have to show for it?”
Laney cocked her eyebrow in disbelief. “Your career?”
“There’s gotta be more to life than this, Laney.” His lips quirked, then he cleared his throat. “Well, for us mere mortals, anyway.”
“Hey! I have a life outside work.” She paused, then dipped her head, acknowledging the point. “Okay, I don’t, but—”
He interrupted her with a chuckle and she feigned a glower before continuing. “I get it, I really do. You want someone to come home to at the end of the day, even if it’s in the middle of the night and all they do is rub your back for a minute after you stumble to bed. Someone who knows that when you scratch your nose at family dinners, it means you need to be rescued. Someone who can read your moods and bring you wine or chocolate or run you a bath without being asked. You’re ready for sweatpants and watching TV on the couch, and loving every minute of it.”
He stared at her, and she realized her voice had drifted to a whisper. “Holy shit.”
“What?”
“Laney Calhoun, you’ve been in love before.”
“Shut up.”
“Tell me about him.” He leaned forward, propped his elbows on the desk, and steepled his fingers. The wicked gleam in his eyes was annoying, but at least she didn’t need to worry about leaving a broken heart behind over the holidays.
“Never going to happen.” She pushed herself to a stand. “It’s late, I have to go.”
“Hey.” Rick raised his hands, as if stop her, then dropped them to his desk. “Have a safe trip.”
Laney inched her car forward. She’d made it to Detroit without hitting much traffic, but there was always a bit of a line at the border. Bright lights flooded the concrete area around the toll booths, obscuring the rise of the Ambassador Bridge against the early dawn sky. She counted the coins she needed again, knowing she had the right amount but indulging her obsessive nature because no one was there to make fun of her. As the truck in front eased past the toll booth onto the bridge, she rolled down her window. This routine was familiar, if not comfortable. Heading home always stirred up conflicting emotions. On the other side of the bridge lay the university. She could already feel the pang of regret that would lance through her gut as she drove past, an unavoidable reaction to a place so tied up in her memories of Kyle. The library. Their favourite Italian restaurant just off-campus. A few blocks further, and she’d pass his first apartment. It would have been her first home away from the farm if things had worked out differently.
She’d only seen him once in the last decade, at her father’s funeral two years earlier. A decade had hardened her heart enough that she was able to shake his hand and ignore the liquid warmth that slithered up her arm. Able to hear his words of cond
olences and pretend they wouldn’t ring in her ears for hours after. He stood in front of her in the church basement for a few extra moments, the line of community members paused behind him, and for a moment she thought he would say something else, but then he shook his head and moved on to give her mother a quick hug and repeat the same generic platitudes. By the time the receiving line had dwindled, he was gone. It was for the best, she had reminded herself at the time. No point in picking at old wounds. She’d learned her lesson twelve years ago, the last summer she spent in Wardham, the first summer she’d allowed herself to have a fling. The only summer she’d spent in love.
The delay wasn’t significant on the other side of the bridge. Within minutes, she had pulled up to the Canadian border crossing and was handing over her identification to the guard in the booth.
“Where are you from?”
“I’m a Canadian citizen living and working in Chicago.”
“Do you have any alcohol or tobacco in the car?”
“One bottle of champagne.”
“Anything else to declare?”
“No.”
“Welcome home.” The border guard passed back her passport and waved her on.
For better or worse, Laney thought.
Traffic thinned and the first rays of a winter sun appeared on the horizon. In her rearview mirror, Windsor and the United States behind it were still dark with night. On either side of the highway, drifts of snow spotted the fields. Lights flicked on in barns and farmhouses, and Laney kept her eyes peeled for suicidal deer as she passed the occasional stand of trees. Fifteen minutes down the highway, she took the bypass to the exit for Wardham, and despite her previous reservations, she smiled. Essex County would forever be home in her heart.
Three side roads zipped past before the home stretch. She knew this road well. The next farm belonged to the Frids, the one after that to the De Limas. The old school house on the corner had been an artist’s retreat the last time she was home, but the sign was gone now. If she kept driving straight, she’d soon be in town, all six streets of it, then catch a first glimpse of Lake Erie. She used to love the town beach, calm water stretching out as far as the eye could see. As she did every time she visited, however, she turned left on Concession Road 2. She only came home to visit her family, and probably would stay at the farm until she left again for Chicago.
