WW13 Christmas at His Command

by Catherine Mann

  God knows how he understood all of that since no one had ever accused him of being Joe Sensitive. But there it was.

  And he would damn well lose his mind thinking about how much had shifted between them since he’d held her in his arms last night. Or kissed her this morning.

  Better focus on the outside.

  His eyes scanned a rocky, icy patch of scarred earth where he suspected there’d once been a moat. An ice-covered lake spread to the right, mountains along the left wrapping behind. Strategically, this had been a well-built home and he couldn’t deny the rush as he thought of all those old battles chronicled on the tapestries covering the walls.

  How ironic that the castle had survived so much only to have the chapel razed by a fluke of nature fifty years ago. Lightning from a storm had sparked a fire, destroying the chapel along with its contents. The village had been devastated. The fundraising drive in this small town to rebuild the chapel had been a heart-tugging story—just the sort that called to someone like Ginger more than any big-city photo op.

  One of the many things he admired about her.

  As if drawn against his will, he turned on his boot heels to find her warming her toes by the fire. She toyed with the trailing end of the pine bough attached to the mantel, with red bows and silver glass balls. Her sigh of contentment seared right through him.

  Their kiss that morning blazed in his mind and through his body as if it had just happened.

  She turned to look at him, the flames from the hearth reflected in her eyes. He kept his gaze firmly off the looming four-poster bed with its poufy comforter across the room and a nice little spread of wine with holiday candies, fruit and nuts beside it.

  The firelight brought out her blond hair, showcased the shadows of her every sweet curve, of her hips in formfitting jeans.

  Her breasts in that sweater—the woman looked fine in a sweater. He vowed to buy her lots of them, in every color. And yeah, these thoughts were leading him directly down one path.

  Hell, he could stare at the moon and there was no ignoring the bed’s overpowering presence. In spite of all the danger—perhaps even heightened by the reminder of how easily everything could be taken away—they’d been working toward this moment all day.

  His feet carried him to her with a surety he saw in her eyes along with those flames even if the breath she inhaled seemed a little shaky. He stopped in front of her and she dropped her extended legs, her feet resting toes to toes with his.

  “So, Ginger, do I take my boots off and stay or not? It’s your call.”

  Her face creased in a smile, her breath seeming a bit steadier this time. “Boots off, flyboy.”

  She didn’t have to tell him twice. He dropped into the wingback chair opposite hers and slid his shoes off, dropping them to the floor, with a thud and thud, before he extended his hand to her. Without hesitation, Ginger glided up from her chair, sinking into his lap and his arms.

  Her mouth met his and confirmed that the attraction, the draw he’d felt when they’d kissed earlier, hadn’t been a one-time thing. This was real. Intense.

  Amazing.

  He pulled her closer, tighter, her sighs encouraging as much as the press of her sweet bottom against him. His hands roamed over her back, under the hem of her sweater to find warm skin. He caressed higher, exploring and, hell yeah, enjoying.

  Ginger cupped his face in her soft hands and eased away an inch. “Why did we never think to do this before?”

  “Oh I thought about it.” And much more, but mostly in his dreams. He’d been so set on them as friends.

  He’d been an idiot.

  She smiled against his mouth. “Why didn’t you say something? Do something?”

  “The same reason you didn’t.”

  “You’re assuming a lot with that statement.”

  He stared at her silently. Waiting. Yeah, he’d gone out on a limb by insinuating she’d been harboring feelings for longer than just this trip as well, but they’d always been honest with each other. He couldn’t see the benefit to either of them in holding back.

  The defensive brace of her shoulders relaxed. “You’re right, of course. There were moments I wondered what would happen if I made a move on you.”

  “Except you didn’t change things between us either, because we weren’t ready,” he said with a dawning insightfulness.

  “And we are now?”

  “I’m not sure about that,” he answered as honestly as he could. “At least, readier.”

  She laughed low, then sobered. “Sex at our age shouldn’t be this scary. I thought fears about being emotionally prepared were for teenagers.”

  “We’re wise enough to know this is serious.” His hands slowed on her back and he took a moment to absorb the feel of her shoulder blades. A simple touch, but the start of learning every nook and nerve. Baring themselves in that way wasn’t something to be taken lightly. “We’ve both been through a lot.”

  Her palm fell to rest on his chest, a couple of pine needles from her fingers catching on his sweater. “We’ve both lost a lot.”

  And wasn’t that the heart of why he’d held back for so long? The draw between them was intense. Almost too much. Could he—could they both—go through losing something this important again?

  All such thoughts needed to take a hike or they would never end up horizontal on that bed together, and he very much wanted to land on that mattress with Ginger. Before he took it further, he needed to hear from her. “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  Because above all he did trust her, he didn’t need to ask anything more than that. He took her mouth again, not so gentle a meeting this time. No more questions or hesitation.

  He skimmed the sweater over her head to reveal a matching bra. He could well lose his mind thinking about how she’d had all this hot lingerie packed away from the start of their trip across Europe. “I never would have guessed you had a weakness for lacy lingerie. You’re so down-to-earth and practical, but then there’s the red camisole, now this.”

  “Practical or not, I’m a woman.”

  “Believe me, I’ve never been more aware of that than I am at the moment.” He wondered what other luxurious lingerie she’d packed in her suitcase. His pulse hammered hard in his ears as his blood pumped through his veins in double time.

  Hank unsnapped her jeans, revealing the top rim of green lace. He growled low, sliding his thumb over the rim of her panties. He grazed his knuckles along the creamy softness of her bare skin, which only served to stir a hunger to feel more of her. All of her.

  An urge to have her now warred with the desire to stare at the sexy image of her standing in nothing but her bra and unsnapped pants. Her blond hair was tousled from their kisses, her bare feet with toes still curling and vulnerable, toenails manicured with white tips.

  While he stared, she acted. Ginger gripped the bottom of his sweater and bunched the wool in her hands. With a smooth sweep that brought both her arms over her head in a move that had him swallowing hard, she tugged the sweater over his head, momentarily blinding him—damn it.

  Then sight returned and he palmed the sweet curve of her bottom to bring her flush against him, skin to skin. It may have been a long time since he’d been with a woman, but he had a solid memory and he knew full well this female felt special.

  Someone unique.

  He dipped his head for another kiss, his hand plunging into her soft hair again, releasing more of her floral perfume.

  Need for her surged through him and he eyed the looming four-poster bed. Making love in the chair could be fun, and certainly worth considering for later. But he had something more intense and thorough in mind for their first time together.

  Starting now.

  Chapter 6

  Oh my, she hadn’t expected to find this again.

  She’d been lucky to enjoy that toe-tingling passion with Benjamin. She’d only expected—maybe—to discover friendship with another man, with the warm comfort of a shoulder
to rest her head against.

  Even with the sizzle of their morning kiss, the inferno now pulsing through her, the urgency that sent her hands grappling at Hank with frantic need surprised her. Even shocked her. Ginger arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest.

  Her jeans itched against her oversensitized skin. She wanted him to peel them off her. She’d missed being undressed by a man.

  More than that, she’d missed undressing a man.

  She wanted to see Hank. Her frenzied fingers found their way to his belt buckle. Then, better yet, she uncovered his zipper. He eased her from his lap until they both stood by the roaring fire. He locked his arms low around her, a good thing since her feet weren’t all that steady under her as she worked at unfastening his pants.

  The raspy glide of his zipper sliding down, down echoed through the room. Hank’s pupils widened in response a second before his lids lowered to half-mast and his hands went into action.

  His thumbs tucked inside her jeans and began inching them off her body. She was more than happy to help with an extra shimmy and hop as his fingers skimmed over her legs. Ginger kicked the pants free and helped him out of his own until he loomed over her, tanned and toned.

  Wow.

  Just wow.

  She’d seen him in swim trunks before and noticed he was a handsome guy, but goodness, had she been wearing blinders? Hank was all man. Hot, solid man. She wished she’d been ready for this sooner because she’d certainly been denying herself some major benefits in this friendship.

  Ginger pointed one finger and planted it in the middle of his chest, pushing him backward one step at a time. “Bedtime, General.”

  A smile dented one corner of Hank’s wind-weathered face. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He let her topple him backwards onto the fluffy comforter. One slow step at a time, she advanced, kneeing up onto the bed until she straddled his waist. She brought some experience to this, and she intended to enjoy it to the most…

  In case there wasn’t a repeat?

  The scary notion threatened to chill her at a totally inopportune moment. She focused instead on warming herself with the heat radiating from Hank’s muscular body and the crackling fire. She extended her arms in a gesture for him to finish undressing her. As his hands swept up to find the center clasp between her breasts, she couldn’t help but think about when he’d touched her there for the first time while fastening the listening device. Her world, her senses, had changed forever in that instant.

  Another thought slithered through as she wondered how much more her world would change as they took these touches deeper, to the most intimate of caresses, by making love.

  He rolled to his side, stroking her face before reaching off the bed to where his jeans had fallen when he’d kicked them free. “I don’t want to break the mood, but I planned, too. During our shopping, I picked up…” His hand came back with a condom.

  “Thank goodness you thought of it because yes, there’s still the possibility, and heaven forbid I should be an unwed pregnant senator.” Yet she’d almost leapt into bed without protection.

  Then he robbed her of the ability to think again with the stroke of his hands over bare flesh, his mouth to her breasts. And no way was she missing out on the opportunity to savor every inch of his muscular body, his chest, his legs, the hard hot length of him in her hand.

  They weren’t inexperienced youths. She knew what she wanted, what she needed and she didn’t hesitate to show him. Thank goodness he had the smart sense and a strong enough ego to growl in appreciation.

  She was a lucky woman tonight.

  He tucked her underneath him and she hooked her arms around his shoulders, gliding a foot along the length of one of his legs. She couldn’t stop the purr of pleasure over the warm weight of him settling atop her, the unmistakable pressure of his arousal ready, so near. He smiled, and she held that image in her mind as her eyes drifted closed at the muscle-melting sensation of him sliding inside her.

  She wanted to capture each moment of this into her memory but thoughts jumbled with each bold stroke of his body into hers. Somewhere in her scrambled mind, she realized that instincts were taking over. Her legs wrapped around his hips to hold on, tipping her hips for more, wonderful more.

  She lost herself in the friction of sweat-slickened skin against skin. Touching. Tasting. Mumbled encouragement and appreciation and moans. Somehow in a distant part of her brain she wondered if their longtime friendship had brought a synchronicity of instinctive knowledge to their coupling, because this went beyond right.

  With the building swell inside her, she feared it would end too quickly, yet he seemed to sense her frustration and slowed. Hank rolled to his back, shifting her on top, taking her to the edge again only to stop short. Time and time again, he teased her until she no longer worried about finishing fast at all.

  “Enough.” She gripped, raked at his back with her nails.

  “Not hardly.” He nipped at her shoulder.

  Still, he tucked her beneath him again and began purposeful thrusts she knew…would carry her…to…

  Yes.

  Completion.

  “Penny for them.” Hank popped a candied date into Ginger’s mouth, wondering what swirled around in that brilliant mind of hers.

  How long had it been since he’d genuinely worried about the inner workings of a female’s brain? Not that he didn’t care what women thought or felt. But tonight, her emotions mattered on an intensely personal level and, for a man who dealt in a more factual world, reading chick nuances wasn’t his strong suit.

  “A penny?” Ginger teased a sugar-glazed grape along his mouth. “We’re in another country. The currency won’t work.”

  “You’re evading.” He scooped up a handful of almonds.

  “You’re perceptive.” She snitched a roasted chestnut from his palm and rolled to her back.

  He might not be known for being emotionally perceptive, but he could see when a person was avoiding answering. “We’ve known each other too long to misread.”

  Her emerald eyes finally slid up to meet his. “What do you see then?”

  “You’re scared,” he said with a sudden surety.

  He waited for her to deny it…but she didn’t.

  A sad smile tipped her kiss-swollen lips. “Seems silly, doesn’t it? I’m forty-nine years old, Hank. I’m not some young thing to get all fluttery.”

  Not young? Maybe. But he couldn’t think of a time she’d looked more beautiful to him than now with her hair all tousled around her face, her shoulders bare above the covers, a sexy hint of whisker burn along her neck.

  He weighed his words carefully. “When I was a ‘young thing’ I used to think fifty-five looked old, but now that I’m there, I don’t feel old. I believe the heart doesn’t have an age.”

  She blinked fast. “Oh my,” she cupped his face, “I never would have guessed you’re a closet romantic.”

  “Shhh.” He winced in exaggerated horror. “Don’t say it quite so loud. You’ll ruin my badass warrior reputation.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.”

  He could sense the fear in her as surely as he’d ever felt it radiating off any airman about to head into battle. He couldn’t deny some of it stirring in his own gut. He’d been there. Felt the debilitating loss. “I know how you grieved for Benjamin. I was there just like you were there when I lost Jessica. Love like that is only supposed to come around once in a lifetime.”

  “Soul mates.” Surprisingly, the words didn’t carry any kind of reverence, more frustration. “It scared me, thinking of all those lonely years, my children so big already since we’d started having them so early.” She shook off the faraway look and rejoined him in the present, taking another one of the almonds from his hand. “The offer to take over Benjamin’s senatorial seat was a godsend. With all that was going on in Congress, I had something to dig my teeth into.”

  “You’ve got fight in you, lady.” Total truth, he’d always admired that
about her. He wondered why he’d never taken the time to notice all the wonder of Ginger before. “You would have found your way around the grief, but there’s no question it’s to our country’s advantage you channeled that energy into finishing out Benjamin’s term.”

  “When I lost him, I just remember being stunned at how you survived losing Jessica. I mean, at the time, when she died, I understood the tragedy of it all. Still there’s just no way to fully comprehend until it happens to you.”

  “You had the Congress. I had my small kids. Just about broke my heart watching Alicia trying to mother the two younger ones when she deserved a childhood of her own.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I had to keep plugging along.”

  Her wise eyes filled with indecision. “So what are we doing here?”

  She’d turned to him for advice before. Why did now feel different? Still, he pushed ahead to answer as he always did when Ginger looked to him for support. “Acting like damn fool teenagers with our hormones raging out of control.”

  “Your hormones are out of control around me?”

  How could she not know? “Can’t you tell? Good Lord, woman. I’m fifty-five years old and we’ve had sex twice already tonight. There’s a good chance you’ll get lucky again if you keep wiggling around like that showing me curves that make my hands start itching and another part start—”

  She kissed him quiet fast. Then slow. Then again for leisurely fun because she could and had been secretly yearning to for longer than she would admit to him. “I get the picture. And thank you, but I haven’t been a teen in a long time, Hank.”

  Now there was a comment he couldn’t let go past. “You turn me on a helluva lot more than any giggling Barbie doll type.”

  She swatted at his bare stomach. “You’re just trying to get in my pants, and let me tell you, Hank Renshaw, even when I was a teenager, I was never easy to sweet-talk around.”