Christmas Down Under: Six Sexy New Zealand & Australian Christmas Romances

by Rosalind James

  “Can anybody join this party?”

  “Dad!” Harry swam to his father, laughed as Finn swept him up overhead. “Toss me!”

  Finn tossed him a couple meters, smiled with obvious pride to see Harry swim back to him. Sophie demanded her own toss, shrieked as she sailed through the air.

  “Didn’t get enough training at the gym, huh?” Jenna asked, coming to stand next to him. “You needed to add some more weight lifting?”

  “Decided I needed to see the progress,” he told her. “Let’s see this diving you’ve been telling me about,” he said to the kids. “Show me what you’ve learnt.”

  He watched the two of them take off with the increased assurance they’d begun to show. “Very impressive,” he said. “You’ve done a lot in four days.”

  “That’s the best way,” Jenna agreed. “Daily lessons. It gives them confidence, making that rapid progress. And your body remembers better, if it’s going through the same motions every day.”

  He grinned at her, and she blushed. “Sorry,” he apologized. “Can’t help it. It’s seeing you in your togs. Gets my mind on that track. But you’re right, that’s how we train, too.”

  “Yeah, well. This’ll give them a good start. They can work on it more during the summer holidays, now that they have the basics down.”

  The kids swam to join them. “Time to get out,” she told them. “We’re all becoming prunes.” She held out her wrinkled fingers for inspection. “Let’s see yours. Yep,” she decided, looking at the little hands. “Definitely prunes. Time to hit the showers.”

  “I get to take a shower with you, right, Dad?” Harry asked excitedly. “I don’t have to go in the ladies’ with Jenna, right?”

  “Too right,” Finn said. “We men’ll meet you girls out front in a few minutes.” He helped Jenna gather towels to wrap around the shivering children. “Need to talk to you at home,” he told her in an undertone. “An idea I have.”

  * * *

  “Jenna.” She heard the knock, the low voice at her door, opened it to let him in as she finished tightening the drawstring on her running shorts.

  “Ah.” He looked at the sturdy athletic bra. “Exactly what I came to talk to you about.”

  “What? My chest?” She went to the drawer for her running top, pulled it over her head. “I’ve noticed you like it, but I’m not sure how much it has to offer as a discussion topic.”

  “Your limited lingerie selection, I mean. I went out for a coffee with a couple of the boys after the gym. And we walked by a boutique on High Street. The Pajama Company, it’s called. Made me have some thoughts about that. Not sure what you have planned for this afternoon, but I’m thinking you might do a bit of shopping for me.”

  “You want to wear ladies’ lingerie?” she asked, opening her eyes wide. “Why, Finn. This opens up a whole new dimension in our relationship.”

  He laughed. “Getting pretty saucy, aren’t you? Nah, you know what I mean. I’d like you to buy a couple things. I saw a bra and thong in the window. Lacy. An aubergine color that I quite liked. I thought you might get that, maybe another set as well. Looked like they had some pretty nighties, too.”

  “I know the shop you mean,” she said. “But their things are a little pricey for me. My employer pays me pretty well, but French lingerie isn’t in my budget.”

  “Which is why I went by the bank,” he told her, pulling out his wallet and extracting a sheaf of hundred-dollar bills. “Call it my birthday present.”

  “Is it your birthday?” she asked with shock. “You should have told me.”

  “Nah. Months away. Call it my Unbirthday present, then.”

  “I don’t know.” She hesitated. “It seems a little … mistressy, doesn’t it?”

  He sighed. “You have a beautiful character. I admire and respect you. You’re an awesome swim teacher. And I want to watch you walk round my bedroom tonight in a thong. Can’t help it. It’s my own Neanderthal brain, I reckon. You want to watch me tackle, and I want to take lacy undies off you.”

  “Well, if you put it like that …” She smiled up at him, took the money he held out. “You’ve got me.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.”

  “Could make me late fixing dinner,” she warned, putting the cash safely away in her wallet. “It’s going to take me a while to do that shopping. You’d be surprised how long it takes to find bras that fit.”

  “That’s what they make pizza for.” He opened the bedroom door, stepped into the hallway. “Oi! Kids! Who wants pizza tonight?”

  “Me! Sophie cried, shooting out of her room.

  “Pizza!” Harry shouted. “Yay!”

  “All right,” Jenna laughed, coming to join him. “And salad, though.”

  “Go do your run,” Finn said. “And this afternoon, you can take yourself out to lunch, do your shopping. I’ll give these hungry beasts their lunch.”

  “Dad,” Harry complained.

  “I can make sammies,” he protested. “One of my few talents.”

  * * *

  She took some extra time in the shower that evening, then used some of the Manuka honey body butter she’d bought to complement her new lingerie, massaging it in until her skin was soft and glistening. Then she dressed in the bra and thong set he’d requested, inspected herself critically in her bedroom mirror, twisting to look at the rear view. She wouldn’t have chosen, personally, to display that much of her backside, but he seemed to like it. As long as he didn’t have too many lights on, she supposed it was all right.

  It looked good from the front, anyway, and he did have fair taste. The blue lace overlay on the deep purple background was striking, and the balconet bra made the most of her considerable assets. She smiled at herself in the mirror. She knew he’d appreciate that.

  She gave herself one last look to make sure everything was adjusted properly, then slipped on her dressing gown and made her quiet way upstairs to his room. She found him lying propped against the headboard, fully dressed, an open binder in his lap.

  Locking the door behind her, she leaned back against it and looked at him. “Studying, huh? All Black stuff?”

  He closed the binder, set it on his nightstand. “Yeh. A bit.”

  “Still want to do this tonight?” She suddenly felt a little shy. He’d obviously imagined how she’d look in this outfit. She hoped the reality would measure up. “If you have work to do… .”

  He laughed. “Nah. Just trying to distract myself.”

  He swung his legs off the bed, came across to her, slid his hands under her hair and took her mouth in a long kiss. “You took your time, eh.” He smiled down at her. “Making me wait for it.”

  It was going to be all right. She had this. She reached down and untied the sash of her dressing gown, lifted her shoulders and slowly shrugged the garment off so it fell to the ground near her feet, then stepped out of it. “Was this what you had in mind?” she asked him.

  “Shit, yeh,” he breathed, standing back to look. “That’s it.”

  “Want me to take it off, then?” she teased. She raised her hands to the hooks at her back, hesitated there. “Oh, wait, that’s right. I forgot.” She came to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled his head down for a kiss. “You said you wanted to be the one to do that, didn’t you?”

  “Bloody hell. Going to do more than that.” He took her hand and pulled her across the floor, not to the bed, but to a spot near his mirrored closet door. He kissed her again, and she opened her eyes to see him watching her reflection in the mirror. She’d been right. The amount of backside on display seemed to work for him.

  “Going to ask you to do something,” he told her, his hand moving to a breast. “Can I say that bit again first? About respecting your many fine qualities, and that?”

  “Oh, boy. I can tell this is going to be good,” she sighed, tilting her head to allow him access to her neck, feeling herself melting as he kissed her there, his hand inside the lacy bra now. “You know you can ask. I t
old you. Anything.”

  “Right, then. Want you to get on your knees for me. I want to watch in the mirror while you take me in your mouth.”

  “Ah. That’s your fantasy, huh?” She smiled slowly. “I can do that for you. Oh, yeah. I can do that.”

  She reached under his T-shirt, ran her hands over his abdomen, then slowly pulled the shirt up, kissed his chest as she uncovered it, ran her tongue over one flat nipple, heard him suck in his breath.

  “Yeh,” he got out. “That’s one I’ve thought about a fair bit.”

  “Mmm,” she said, pulling the shirt over his head. She spent a bit more time on him, her hands and mouth working on his neck, his chest. Only when she could see the sweat beginning to glisten there, hear his breath coming hard, did she reach for his belt buckle, then his zipper. She pulled his jeans down his hips, together with his underwear.

  “Step out,” she breathed against his chest. “Give me some room to work here.”

  He groaned, did as she asked, kicked the discarded garments aside. She took him in her hands then, ran a palm down the length of him.

  “Sure you want this?” she asked, closing her mouth over his neck again, using her teeth as her hand continued to stroke. “Last chance to back out.”

  “Oh, God,” he moaned. “Please.”

  She smiled again as she dropped first to one knee, then the other. “Is this what you had in mind? Good enough view?”

  His only answer was to wrap his hands around her head, fingers threaded through her hair. “Trying not to shove you here,” he gritted out. “But I need this.”

  “And you’re going to get it,” she promised, then bent her head and gave him what he wanted. Slowly, taking her time. Letting it build for him.

  * * *

  Finn fought the urge to close his eyes. Because looking down at her working on him, watching her reflection in the mirror, was almost as good as what she was doing. He lost himself in the feel of her mouth, her tongue, her hands on him, the sight of her.

  He was almost too far gone when he forced himself back. This wasn’t all he wanted to do right now, while he had her in front of the mirror.

  “Jenna. Stop.” He pulled her head gently back, almost changed his mind as she let go of him, sat back on her heels and looked up at him, her hair disheveled, mouth soft, eyes huge. He made his decision, dropped to his knees, reached for the strap of that aubergine bra.

  “This has been working so hard,” he said, unfastening the hooks and pulling it off her. “Time to give it a rest.” He took a breast in each hand, heard the hitch in her breath as he caressed her. “Feels good, eh.” He looked into her eyes, pupils dilated with passion. “I think you got something out of that, too. But you need something else now, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she told him. “Yes. Please.”

  He smiled, reached down to pull off the thong. “Let’s get this off you, then, so I can give it to you.”

  She wriggled out of the lacy strip. “Tell me what you want from me.”

  “I love it when you say that.” He bent his head to kiss her, reached down to touch her. “You’re so wet. So ready for me. Get on your hands and knees, then.”

  He moved behind her. Another perfect view, he realized. From where he knelt, and in the mirror. He looked down, froze.

  “Shit. Condom. Stay there,” he commanded. “Exactly like that.” He raced across to the bed, pulled out the nightstand drawer, grabbed the packet and came back to her.

  “Bloody hell,” he said. “You’re so gorgeous. Waiting for me, just like I asked you to.” He pushed inside slowly, felt her respond, watched as her head dropped, looked at her hands supporting her, his hands on her hips as he moved in her.

  “Reach your hand back here,” he gasped. “Touch yourself. Because I need to feel you come while I’m doing this to you.”

  She moaned, did as he asked. He watched in the mirror as she began to caress herself, and felt the change in her, the shift at the added stimulation. She was panting now, and he could sense her spiraling up, feel her tightening around him.

  “That’s right,” he told her, his breath exploding from him. “Come on, Jenna. Give it up. Give it to me.”

  She was pushing back into him, crying out, and he was over the edge. He grabbed her harder, thrusting into her so forcefully he was moving her across the floor. He felt her going over, the contractions surrounding him, pulling at him as she sobbed out her release, and he lost control, joined her in sensation, tumbled with her into a long, powerful orgasm that seemed to draw everything from his body.

  “Aw, geez,” he gasped at last. “I’m squashing you.” He rolled to his side, pulled her against him. “All right?”

  He felt her sigh against him, a long, drawn-out sound. “Yeah. Good.”

  He ran a hand over her, felt the goosebumps form. “Go get in bed. Give me a sec.” He got up, went into the bathroom to get rid of the condom, looked at himself in the mirror. He was wrecked. Shattered.

  He came back to bed to find her nestled under the duvet. She pulled an edge back, invited him to slide in next to her.

  “Was that what you had in mind?” she asked with a little smile. “For your Unbirthday present?”

  He pulled her to him, gave her a long, slow kiss. “That was,” he promised. “It was brilliant. Absolutely the best Unbirthday present anyone’s ever given me.”

  “I’m so glad. We aim to please.”

  “And you do,” he assured her. “You do please. So bloody much.”

  He went on, running his hand down her back. “I’ve spent a fair amount of time thinking back on how you looked that first night, in those black stockings. But I know which picture I’m going to be taking on tour with me.”

  * * *

  She froze for a long moment. “What?” She shoved herself away from him, pulled herself up to sit, the shock like a dose of ice water. “What did you say?”

  “Just now. In the mirror. What? You couldn’t tell how much I liked it?”

  “But you … you took a picture? Finn. You can’t take my picture, doing that.” She realized that her voice was rising, lowered it with an effort. “That’s not OK,” she hissed furiously. “You have to erase that. Where is it?”

  “What?” he asked blankly.

  “Where is it?” she demanded. “It’s not … it’s not a tape, is it? Oh, no. Please tell me you didn’t do that.”

  “What are you talking about?” He sat up, stared across at her. “What tape?”

  “What you just said!” she snapped. She got up, grabbed her dressing gown and pulled it on, clumsy in her haste. “Give it to me.”

  “Whoa. Whoa. Hang on. You’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I was talking about the picture in my mind. Course I didn’t take a picture of you. Much less a tape. Bloody hell.”

  “Oh. Thank God.” She sat down on the bed again, weak with relief.

  “Hang on, though,” he realized. “I said that, and that’s the conclusion you jumped to?”

  “Men do those things. I’ve read about it. They do do that. Show them around. Put them online, even. And I need to tell you, that would kill me. I’m a private person. I couldn’t handle that.”

  “And you think I’m the kind of bastard who’d do something like that,” he said, his face settling into its hardest lines. “That I’d show your photo to my mates. Put it on the bloody Internet.”

  “Just forget it, OK?” she sighed. “I’m sorry. It was a stupid misunderstanding.”

  “Yeh, it was. I have a daughter, for God’s sake. And a bit of common decency too, I hope. Good to know what you really think of me. How much you trust me.” He got up himself, pulled on underwear and a T-shirt, his anger clear in his jerky movements.

  “I can’t just assume you’ll do the right thing, though!” she protested.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “I did that, remember? I found out the hard way. And I’m not doing it again.”

  “Because I’m a man?” he demanded. “Tha
t automatically makes me a dickhead? Or because I’m a football player, maybe? I’m not your bloody ex-husband. How hard is it to see that?”

  “But that’s not something I can forget,” she tried to explain. “He lied to me. He cheated on me!”

  “Which happened to me too! And I can still judge you for who you are. Not for who Nicole was.”

  “It’s different, though,” she pleaded. “You don’t understand. I was married to someone who said he loved me, but who didn’t even care enough to tell me he was having sex with men, so I could have protected myself! He didn’t care if he killed me. The first thing I did, the first day, was to get myself tested, see if I had HIV. How do you imagine that felt? I don’t, by the way,” she said bitterly, interpreting his startled look. “I got tested twice to make sure. You’ve got nothing to worry about. And I’m sorry.” She busied herself retying the sash of her dressing gown, tried to hide the tears she couldn’t hold back anymore. “I’m sorry that I insulted you. And that I’m …” she gestured helplessly. “Damaged. Whatever. Sorry.”

  She headed for the door. “Forget it. I’m going to bed now.”

  “Jenna,” he said wearily. “Hang on.”

  “No. I can’t.” She lifted a lapel to wipe her face. Remembered her discarded underwear, went to pick it up. “I need to go to bed.”

  On Top of Mt. Eden

  He was gone to the gym by the time she got up the next morning, Jenna found with relief. She couldn’t imagine how she was going to face him again. It had taken her hours to get to sleep the night before, replaying the scene in her mind. How had one of the most exciting nights of her life gone so sour? And why had she jumped to that conclusion? She’d really insulted him, she realized. But she wasn’t sure how to make it better.

  She focused on the kids, glad to have something to take her mind off her confused, circling thoughts. She was leaving the showers with them after their swim lesson when she heard her phone ding with a text. Pulled it out of her bag and glanced at it. Finn.

  Can you get kids a playdate.

  She swallowed her dread, rang Siobhan.