"To tell the truth, I’d love the company for Christmas. And maybe while you’re here you could tell me about Peter."
"Certainement. I would be pleased to do so."
"Are you and he, uh, very close?"
The edge in his voice snatched her gaze to his face. Close? Did he think she and Peter were more than friends?
"We are close friends, but we are not—how you say?—romantically involved."
His smile brightened. He nodded and sipped his coffee.
She liked his smile. It made her feel warm all over.
Anguish arose at the thought of cursing him to the prison she had endured for so long. He was so generous, opening his home to a stranger.
Her gaze wandered to the Christmas tree, the place on the top blatantly empty. Odd that he hadn’t noticed, but maybe that was the angel’s doing.
The tree sat in front of the large picture window in the living room and twinkled with a lovely array of colored lights. Decorations, both old and new, covered the tree. Still, it looked somehow empty.
"There are no gifts under the tree," she said, realizing what was missing.
He took a gulp of coffee and set down his mug.
"No, and there won’t be. Peter is my only family and, as you know, we aren’t exactly close."
She saw the pain in his eyes.
"Oui, I understand. My family is all gone, too. I miss Christmas with them very much."
They stared at each other for a long moment. His fingers tapped on the table-top and soon a smile spread across his face, chasing the melancholy from his eyes.
"I know. Why don’t we give each other a gift?"
She glanced at him over her coffee mug. "Unless you want an angel costume, you will be disappointed. Remember, I have no money."
"I could give you some money."
She laid her knife and fork on her empty plate and pushed it aside.
"What kind of gift would that be, bought with your own money?"
"Then why don’t I buy the costume from you? That’ll give you some money to buy something."
She raised an eyebrow. "We will agree on an amount for these gifts?" The idea appealed to her immensely, but she didn’t want him spending a lot of money on her.
He nodded.
"How about a dollar?" she suggested.
"The costume is worth more than that. A hundred dollars."
"Then I will give you ninety-nine. Some to give your friend for these clothes, and the rest to you for letting me stay here."
"Make it ninety-five and you’ve got a deal."
A smile curved her lips. She held out her hand to shake on it.
As his strong, masculine fingers curled around hers, her smile faded, swept away by the powerful surge of need flooding through her. He shook her hand, then lingered, staring at her.
"Angelique, if you keep staring at me like that, then I’ll …"
"What will you do, Nick?"
He stood up and drew her to her feet.
"This."
He stroked her cheek, a light brush of fingertips gliding across her skin. Her breath held as his face drew closer. Her eyelids drifted closed as his lips brushed against hers. She stroked her hands across his cheeks and forked her fingers through his hair. Her heart pounded in her chest as she slid her hands along his neck, down his chest, then released the buttons of his shirt, one by one.
"Angelique," he murmured against her ear.
"I want you, Nick."
She shifted lower, sliding her palms down his neck then his chest, parting his shirt, then capturing one of his nipples in her mouth, thrilled at the intake of his breath in response. She dabbed at it with her tongue until it reached pebble hardness, then she rolled it in her mouth.
"I love the taste of you."
She licked along his ribcage, then shifted upwards again and nuzzled the base of his neck. His hands slid up under her sweater and cupped her breasts over her bra. Heavenly sensations fluttered through her. She tugged the sweater over her head and tossed it to the floor. He skimmed his hands down the sides of her ribcage, sending her pulse skyrocketing. He unhooked her bra and she let it fall forward then flung it aside. Heat seared through her as his lips circled one of her hard, taut nipples. She clung to his head, holding it against her.
"Oh, Nick, I love it when you do that."
She pulled his head up and kissed him firmly, then guided his head to her other nipple. He chuckled before he sucked her deep into his mouth, causing her vaginal muscles to contract tightly in sympathetic response.
"Oh, God, you make me so hot."
She pushed him backward and into the chair, then crouched down, enjoying the hard muscled landscape of his chest on the way down. She tugged open his belt, then released his fly. She reached inside and stroked the long, hard bulge. She pulled his stiffening cock free and licked it like a lollipop, from the base, up the shaft, then over the tip. He grew long and hard, his bulging cock so incredibly inviting.
"Mmmm." She circled the head with her lips and sucked vigorously, teasing the underside with her tongue. She slid her mouth lower, taking him deeper, caressing him with her open throat.
"Oh, God, Angelique. I love that, but I’m going to come too fast."
She stared up at him, smiling.
"Is that a problem?" she asked.
"Only because I want to come inside you, giving you pleasure, too."
"Nick, you say the sweetest things." She stood up and dropped her jeans and panties to the floor, then kicked them aside. He sat in the chair watching her, his rigid cock standing straight up in the air.
She sashayed toward him, adding sway to her hips, then she straddled his legs and eased herself down on him, guiding his tremendous cock into her hot opening. The feel of his rock hard rod impaling her almost made her sing out in ecstatic bliss. It rubbed along her sensitive passage, smooth and stimulating, her nerve-endings sparking to life. She ground down on him, then raised herself up, feeling the head of his penis dragging along her vagina.
"Oh, Nick, you feel wonderful."
"Oh, baby, so do you."
His hands cupped her buttocks firmly. She kissed him and started pumping up and down. His hands helped lift her on the way up. She felt tremors deep inside her, swelling upward and outward, washing through her in a profuse flow of passion and pleasure. Sweeping through her with mind-numbing intensity. A magnificent orgasm of immense proportions.
She clung to him and slowed her pace as the orgasm washed over her, fast and furious. Slowly it dwindled and she slowed to a stop, but he tightened his grip on her buttocks and increased her pace, lifting and dropping back, lifting and dropping back. Pleasure surged within her again, triggering another orgasm.
"Oh, God, Nick!"
It swept through her, leaving her breathless. When she slowed again, he increased her pace again, squeezing her buttocks together this time. Yet another orgasm gripped her, tight, hard, and enormously potent.
"OH … MY … GOD!" she gasped as the pleasure burst through her body, sending her to heaven and back.
Nick groaned and she felt him swell, then spurt within her. She cupped his cheeks and kissed him, hard and long. Then she wrapped her legs around him and collapsed in his arms, snuggling against the hard strength of his chest.
"Angelique, I am amazed how well we work together. We hardly know each other, yet we seem to know exactly what the other wants and needs."
She kissed his chest, then nuzzled his neck.
"C’est vrai. I mean, it’s true. You know exactly how to excite me. How to pleasure me. Again and again." She took his lips again, kissing him soundly. She stared into his eyes, a bright smile on her face. "Thank you for that."
"Mmm. You’re very welcome."
He kissed her again, soft and slightly playful, teasing her lips with his tongue. She slashed her tongue into mouth, enjoying the play of his lips on hers. At the same time, she pressed her breasts against him, intending to tease him. Her soft nipples hardened as they c
ame into contact with the curls of hair across his chest.
He pulled her close again and she felt his cock twitch inside her. He moved his groin in a circular motion, spiraling his cock within her. A wild tornado of cascading sensations rushed through her. Catching her completely off guard, an explosive orgasm propelled her into wild, passionate bliss once more.
Chapter 7
Nicholas guided Angelique to the dollar store on Sparks Street, but she shook her head and disappeared into the holiday crowd. An hour later, he watched for her in the cozy café next door where they’d agreed to meet.
He smiled when she sat across from him at the small, round table he’d chosen by the window overlooking the skaters on the canal. The voices of Christmas carolers mingled with the busy chatter of other diners.
The dark green and gold paper bag she carried was from a department store, giving him no clue what she’d purchased. He couldn’t believe how curious he felt. It was like being a kid again, actually looking forward to Christmas. And gifts.
She had brought so much excitement to his life in only a few brief hours.
He wondered what she’d chosen. The gift would reveal a little of what she thought of him. His jaw tightened. What she thought of him was important, he realized, even though he didn’t want it to be. It gave her too much power over him.
He dipped his hand in his pocket to feel the small box that contained her gift. He hoped she would like it. He wanted her to smile when she opened it, to look at him with eyes full of joy.
He enjoyed lunch with her, talking and laughing over sandwiches. She was becoming important to him. Although he’d barely met her, he felt he’d known her forever.
He pulled his credit card from his wallet to pay the bill. Strange. He’d never clicked with someone like this before. Could he have known her as a child, before his parents divorced?
When they got home, she withdrew to her room and didn’t come out until he called her to dinner. Even those few hours without her seemed an eternity.
He didn’t like this growing need he had to be with her. In two days, she would be gone. Sadness flickered through him at the thought, but he shook it away. He wasn’t really falling for her. It was just the excitement of Christmas and the connection she provided to his brother, nothing more. Well, maybe the great sex had something to do with it, too.
"It’s taken a long time to wrap that gift," he mentioned, as he poured wine into two crystal glasses.
Candlelight reflected in her lovely eyes as she smiled but said nothing.
After dinner, Nicholas went to his room and wrapped the small parcel he’d bought for her.
He returned to the living room and started a fire, then sat quietly awaiting her return. She entered the room and placed her wrapped gift, about the size of a hard-cover book, under the tree, next to his small, two-inch square parcel.
"What is it?" he asked, leaning forward to view it more closely.
Her eyes twinkled. "Surely, you do not want to know now."
"Of course I do or I wouldn’t have asked." In fact, his curiosity demanded to be satisfied.
She sat beside him on the couch. "But it should be a surprise for Christmas morning."
"I’ve never been one to follow rules. Let’s not wait. After all, it is Christmas Eve."
Excitement quivered through Angelique. She stared longingly at the small, glittering package he’d set under the tree.
"Well …"
He dove toward the tree and scooped up her gift. "Okay, let’s go."
She laughed. His exuberance delighted her.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, facing her, then handed her the small package.
"Go ahead. Open it."
She placed it on the glass coffee table and shook her head. "You first."
"All right."
Her stomach fluttered as he tore back the paper. Would he like her gift?
His smile faded, and with it, her heart sank.
Nicholas glared at the four faces he never thought he’d see together staring up at him. His father and himself alongside Peter … and their mother.
"Did you draw this?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Yes."
Her voice sounded shaky, but the frenzy of emotions grilling his insides wouldn’t allow him to deal with her feelings right now.
"I drew you and your father from the photographs you have on the fireplace mantel," she explained, clearly trying to cover her disappointment at his reaction—but failing. "I drew Peter and your mother from memory."
He nodded, then pushed the picture aside.
Angelique watched with sadness. His obvious rejection of her gift hurt.
He rose and went into the kitchen. She sat back and sighed.
Why didn’t he like it? She had thought it would make him happy, but instead she’d seen anger in his eyes as he’d stared at the drawing. And pain.
Did it remind him of the years he had lost with Peter? And with his mother? Another wave of sadness washed over her. She had not meant to cause him pain.
A few minutes later, he returned carrying two glasses of white wine. He handed her one and she took a sip.
"Nicholas, about the drawing—"
"I’m sorry, I didn’t thank you. It was very thoughtful of you."
His voice sounded flat, but he was trying. Better to leave it be, she decided.
He settled beside her on the couch and picked up her gift, then held it out to her.
"Open yours now." He smiled warmly.
She returned his smile, allowing anticipation to crowd away her melancholy. She ripped open the paper to reveal a white box. Inside sat a small lapel pin in the shape of an angel.
Her heart compressed at the feelings it triggered. Anguish at the memory of being trapped in the form of an inanimate Christmas ornament. Anger that it had been his family who had caused that anguish. Torment at the thought of trapping him in the same way.
Pain that, even though he had spent time with her as a real person—had kissed her and made love to her—he still saw her in only the most superficial light, based on the angel costume she’d worn when he first met her. All those years as a tree-top angel, his kin had seen only the statue, not the person trapped inside. Now, even with a human body, Nicholas saw no further than that.
He moved closer. She touched the gold with her fingertips, avoiding his gaze.
"When I saw it, it reminded me of you."
He took the box from her and set it on the table, then took her hands in his. His tenderness sent her off balance.
"When I came to your room last night, you looked so beautiful in the moonlight. Like an angel."
She met his gaze, her heart stirring in her chest. The brush of his fingertips as he stroked a strand of hair from her forehead reverberated through every cell of her body.
"And when I kissed you … then, the easy, intimacy we’ve shared, the way you make me feel….You’ve touched me in a special way."
Joy swelled in her heart. When he said he saw her as an angel, he didn’t mean in the superficial sense because she’d worn a costume, he meant as a special woman who had touched his heart. She had affected him—deeply.
"Oh, Nicholas, thank you." She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.
His arms closed around her, strong and reassuring. If only she could stay like this forever. Spend eternity with this man.
But she couldn’t. Intense pain shuddered through her. In another fourteen hours, either he or she would be sitting atop the Christmas tree.
A small part of her hoped it would be her—the part that was growing to care for Nicholas. She leaned against his chest, hearing the beat of his heart. She didn’t want him to turn into an inanimate object. He was too kind. Too generous of nature.
If she returned to her old form, however, how would she bear watching his memory of her fade? How would she cope with losing him?
She listened to his heartbeat, cherishing the feel of being in his arms. Her body t
hrummed with the need he aroused in her. For human contact. For passion. For love.
This would be her last chance to feel the intimate, loving touch of a man. This man. Maybe spending the night making love with him would provide memories to last her through an eternity of loneliness.
"Nick?"
His gaze met hers. "Yes, Angelique?" His green eyes darkened to the color of pine needles as he watched her.
"I …"
She hesitated, not knowing how to voice what she wanted. Maybe she could show him.
Chapter 8
As Angelique moved closer, Nicholas felt his pulse quicken. Her first delicate touch stirred the fire smoldering inside him then, as her mouth moved on his, harder and more frantic, passion flared.
His arms tightened around her and her breasts pressed against him, sending his heartbeat thrumming. His nipples hardened to pebbles. His breathing became more rapid.
Her teeth grazed his neck. She tugged open his shirt and he gasped as she raked her fingernails across his nipples, then teased one with the tip of her tongue. His mouth went dry.
"Angelique." Her name echoed in a low moan and his hands forked through her long, blond hair. Silky strands of sunshine.
"Make love to me, Nicholas."
Her throaty words echoed through him. Oh, God, yes!
She brushed his hands aside then pushed her sweater over her head. Her breasts, round and ripe, the nipples small rose beads, took his breath away. He leaned forward and kissed one, then drew the nub into his mouth. Her gasp nearly toppled his restraint.
He cupped her other breast, the nipple burning into his palm.
"Nicholas."
Hearing his name in her whispered voice, husky with desire, thrilled him. He flicked his tongue over her hardened flesh and she gasped again. He sucked and the pace of her breathing increased.
She rolled onto her back and started to struggle with her jeans. He slipped them from her hips and smiled at the little bit of nothing called panties. He trailed his tongue along the edge of the lace, then grasped it with his teeth and tugged them downward. Her pungent scent—of heaven and earth, but mostly of woman—sent his pulse racing.
He licked her navel, then lowered his mouth to the soft, blond down that glistened in the sunlight. A quick, in-drawn breath, followed by her fingers curling through his hair, told him she wanted this. His tongue slid into the soft folds of flesh and he flicked the hard nub hidden there. She gasped. He flicked again—and again—feeling it grow more rigid.
A Naughty Little Christmas (Cowboys, Cops, and Kilts: 8 Seasonally Seductive Romances from Bestselling Authors) Page 26
