Anthology - The Night Before Christmas

by Foster, Mccarthy, Shalvis, Love, Garbera, Adams

  The words sounded unruffled, but inside, his libido still raged, shouting over and over that he absolutely should have done it, and he should do it again.

  She pressed her lips together, then nodded. "It's okay. But it can't happen again."

  He nodded, too. She was right, of course. Although one part of his anatomy wasn't listening, didn't care, and was quite merrily throbbing in his pants.

  "Here we are," Donny called from the down escalator.

  Both Rob and Erica jumped and took a step away from each other.

  Donny approached them with a paper coffee cup in each hand. Beside him was a tall, muscular blond man with two cups in his hands as well.

  "Rob," Donny said with an affable smile. "This is Alex. Alex, this is Rob."

  Alex smiled at Rob with blindingly white teeth. "Donny says you're joining us on our blizzard adventure."

  Rob nodded. "If that's okay?"

  Alex eyed him up and down, then smiled again. "Sure. Here." He offered Rob one of the cups. "We picked you up a latte. Although you look more like a double espresso kind of guy to me."

  "Thanks," Rob said, not exactly sure what that meant. He accepted the cup and added, "I really do appreciate the lift."

  "Not a problem," Alex said adamantly.

  Donny rolled his eyes, and Rob wondered if maybe Donny had somehow sensed that he and Erica had a past. Rob certainly sensed it—the air crackled with awareness.

  "Well," Erica said, her voice a little higher than normal, which Rob knew happened when she was nervous. "Let's get this show on the road."

  They stood around the rusty, dented, almost white sedan, all four pairs of eyes sporting the same skeptical look. To call the car a "heap" was being generous.

  "Well, I guess we can't be choosy. It was the last one," Donny said with a shrug and unlocked the trunk. He tossed his bags in. Alex followed suit. Rob watched as Donny got in the driver's seat and left Erica struggling with a large army-style duffel bag.

  What a guy, Rob thought disgustedly.

  Rob reached around Erica and took the bag from her, trying to ignore the scent of her perfume, light and citrusy, which drifted around him over the smell of the exhaust-filled parking garage. With more force than necessary, he tossed the bag on top of his Armani suitcase.

  "Thanks," she murmured, slipping around him to the back door on the passenger's side.

  She was sitting in the back? With him? Then he noticed that Alex was already riding shotgun. Donny and his pal really were quite the gentlemen.

  "The door is stuck," Erica told him over the roof, tugging on the handle to demonstrate. "I'll have to slide across."

  Rob watched as she pitched in her coat and her huge purse on his side. Then, rather than sit down on the seat and scoot over, she crawled. The faded denim of her jeans shaped the rounded curve of her hips and her ass, and the seam, slightly darker, ran straight between her thighs like an arrow pointing the way to the place he most wanted to touch.

  He fought down a frustrated groan and the urge to grab her hips and thrust himself against her. But he couldn't fight down the erection that had calmed but now strained against the confines of his pants.

  "Are you coming?" she asked once she was situated on her side of the backseat.

  His cock pulsed eagerly at that question. But he just nodded and bowed his tall frame into the small quarters, wincing. In the best of situations, the crowded backseat would have been uncomfortable. At the moment, it was like trying to curl into a ball with a giant metal pole in his trousers.

  He groaned, but managed to get himself inside and slam the door.

  "Are you okay?" Erica asked.

  "Yes," he muttered, his voice tense.

  She peered at him a moment longer, then fell back against the seat.

  Donny started the car's engine, which rattled to life with a sick cough. "Into the tundra we go."

  Once they got outside of Boston and onto Interstate 95, it became very clear why all flights had been cancelled. Snow covered the highway with no lanes visible, just a flat swath of white ahead of them. The road signs were caked over with flying snow, and they had to creep along, the old car creaking with every gust of wind.

  But the blizzard raging outside was nothing to the desire tearing through Rob. The backseat was little more than a sensual torture chamber. Every time Erica moved, he felt it. The accidental bump of her knee. The brush of her arm. The nudge of her shoulder. Even the rhythm of her breathing seemed to circle around his body, over his skin. Around and around.

  "Come on. Get in."

  Erica bit her lip and regarded him dubiously. "There isn't enough room. Your legs will be cramped."

  He shifted himself back in the small car shaped like a rocket, demonstrating all the room. "You can fit in front of me."

  She hesitated a moment longer, then with a laugh crawled in, sliding down in front of him. He laughed, too, as she wiggled around trying to find the right fit.

  Once she was settled, her narrow back against his chest, her bottom tight against his groin, he reached forward and secured the worn black seat belt around the two of them.

  "See, perfect," he declared, wrapping his arms around her midriff, pulling her still tighter against him.

  She nodded, laughing again. Her blonde curls tickled his chin. He sank his nose into her hair, breathing deeply the fresh scent of her shampoo.

  The bell sounded, and the tiny rocket began to orbit, rising up in the air, high above the fairgrounds, through the brisk autumn night.

  Rob moved his hands then, once they were above the whole world, catapulting through the air. He slipped them under her jean jacket, under her sweatshirt, until he found her warm, soft skin. Up over her belly, spanning the delicate ridges of her rib cage, until he cupped her small, perfect breasts. Her head fell back against his shoulder, her back arching up to press his hands firmer against her.

  He circled her pointed nipples, which prodded hungrily against the satin of her bra. Squeezed them with gentle twists, until she moaned. He groaned, too, at the pressure of her pressed against him. A need that pounded through him.

  And even though he desperately wanted to have her completely, to lose himself in her tight heat, it was just as thrilling to touch her, to please her. And to know that she was his and that she loved him.

  Slowly, they descended back to earth, and the small car shook to a halt.

  Erica didn't move, even as his hands slipped out from under her clothes and back to her waist. Even as the other passengers exited the ride. She remained against him, her eyes closed, a small, knowing smile curling her lips.

  "So that was your plan all along?" she finally murmured.

  "Mm-hmm," he agreed with no remorse. He nuzzled her neck.

  "You're bad."

  "Mm-hmm," he agreed again.

  "Let's go again," she sighed.

  He laughed and squeezed her. This was what life was about. This was all that mattered. Erica.

  "Who sings this song?" Donny asked, snapping Rob out of his memory.

  Erica leaned forward, the length of her leg pressed against his. "I can't hear it. I don't think the speakers back here work."

  Alex turned it up, and a Christmas tune filled the small car.

  Erica tilted her head slightly as she thought. Golden curls clung to her cheeks.

  Rob stared at those curls, longing to touch them. To smell them like he'd once done whenever he wanted. Wishing… Wishing he had the right. That he'd never given up the right.

  "Oh, that's… It's on the tip of my tongue."

  "It's Sting."

  Alex glanced over his shoulder at Rob. "That's it. How could I not remember that? I love, love, love Sting."

  "We know," Donny muttered.

  Rob frowned at the two men's exchange. Then Erica shifted back beside him, and all he could think about was her leg pressed against the length of his leg. And if that wasn't distracting enough, her hand brushed his where it rested on his knee.

  "Sorry,"
she said, snatching her hand away.

  He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

  She finally settled back, keeping her hands and her legs to herself. But she began singing along with the Christmas music. A soft, sweet sound drifting over him—making him crazy. Good lord, even the sound of her voice was enough to make him horny as hell.

  "Do you have to do that?" he suddenly barked.

  She straightened, her eyes wide. "Do what?"

  "Sing!"

  Chapter Four

  Erica frowned at Rob. She'd only been singing to get her mind off the fact that she was practically being forced to sit on the man's lap. A fact that was slowly driving her overexcited body insane, and was conjuring lots of very vivid images of doing more than sitting on him.

  But she was trying her best to be polite, so he certainly could try to do the same.

  Instead of telling him so, she said, "Yes, I can stop singing."

  "I think you have a nice voice," Donny told her.

  "It was good," Alex agreed.

  "Thank you." She appreciated her new friends' support.

  "Perhaps not as good as Sting," Donny added pointedly.

  "Did I say that?" Alex snapped.

  Erica, ever the peacemaker, promptly shifted forward on the seat to stop the two men's bickering. "I think you sort of look like Sting, Donny."

  "I do?" The man seemed pleased.

  She nodded, scooting further up on the seat. Suddenly, Rob's large hands gripped her hips, his fingers holding her still.

  "Stop," he hissed, his mouth right next to her ear.

  She could feel his hard body close behind her, and despite the earlier rudeness and the irritation she now heard in his voice, her body reacted. Her nipples hardened, an excruciating rasp against the lace of her bra.

  Annoyance rose in her, both at his demand and at her reaction to his touch. "Stop doing what?" she hissed back, not keeping her voice quite as low.

  "Stop wiggling."

  She could hardly wiggle with her hips braced between his huge, strong hands.

  "My, what big hands you haw." Erica giggled as she squirmed away from Rob.

  He caught her ankle and dragged her back across the sheets toward him. She continued to giggle until the hand that had clasped her ankle slid slowly up over her calf, over her knee, up her inner thigh, until it reached the triangle of curls at the apex of her legs.

  He shaped his palm to her mound and murmured in a deliriously evil voice, "Better to touch you with."

  She propped herself up on her elbows and watched as Rob's fingers parted her, stroking her damp, sensitive flesh. With slow caresses, he teased her clitoris, each sweep and swirl of his fingertip exquisite torture.

  When he pushed the length of his finger deep inside her, she fell back on the mattress, writhing against him. "Rob!"

  He smiled at her, the curl of his wide mouth and the deepening of his dimple sinfully sexy.

  "Come for me, Erica."

  She moaned, as his hand worked magic, plunging her toward release. Colors whirled behind her closed eyelids. Shades of red and pink. The colors of her passion.

  Then his thumb increased its speed against her clitoris, and his finger bent inside her, stroking the spot only he knew how to find. Instantly, the reds and pinks exploded into bursts of brilliant orange. She cried out as wave after wave of release crashed over her.

  She barely registered Rob's hands leaving her until she felt his thick penis sliding into her, filling her to her womb. The orange intensified, the waves pounded.

  But he didn't move inside her, once she was full of his hard flesh. Her muscles pulsed around his erection, gripping him, hungry to stroke him. But still he didn't move.

  She opened her eyes to find him levered over her, his weight braced on his arms, the muscles of his shoulders and biceps bulging.

  He smiled down at her, a strained half-smile. She smiled back, bobbing her hips, stroking his penis as much as his pinning position would allow.

  His smile faded, and he groaned deep in his throat.

  She did it again, searing, wet flesh fondling hot, rigid flesh.

  This time he groaned loudly.

  She flexed again. "My," she said, her own renewing arousal making her voice breathy, "what a big penis you have."

  He grinned then, his dimple deep and so very sexy. "The better to do this with."

  He pulled his erection almost completely from her body, then thrust it back in.

  She moaned, arching up against him, feeling him throughout her whole body. Yes! Definitely better. The best. The very best.

  Erica whimpered as the memory and his hands holding her now made her nipples throb and her loins ache. She couldn't handle this.

  She tried to wriggle out of his grip. How dare he hold her like this and boss her around like some caveman. And how dare she find it arousing. This was madness.

  "I'm not kidding, Erica," he said, his voice low, his hot breath on her ear. "If you keep moving, I swear…"

  "You swear what?" She managed to keep her voice steady and to not lean back against his muscled chest like her body was urging her to.

  "I swear, I'll pull you right onto my lap and kiss you senseless." The hands on her hips tightened, shooting aching need straight to the pit of her belly and lower. "And I don't give a damn if your fiancé is in the car to see it."

  "Fiancé?" the two men in the front seat cried out in unison. The car slowed sharply, then fishtailed. Then the Hire a Heap spun, revolving in a large, almost graceful circle in the center of the empty highway, before sliding to a jarring halt in a snowbank.

  Erica slammed against Rob with an oof. His arms came around her, pulling her against that solid, muscular chest that she'd been trying to avoid. Shockwaves that had nothing to do with the accident vibrated through her.

  "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice sharp, but this time with something that sounded distinctly like concern.

  She pushed away from him, even though the car was tipped at a slight angle, which made sliding up the slippery vinyl seat difficult.

  "I'm fine." Her voice held all the irritation his had lost.

  "Are you two all right?" he asked the men in the front.

  "Yes," they both breathed. Then the car fell silent as if no one knew how to react to the chain of events.

  "Listen," Rob finally said, his voice quiet and full of remorse. "Donny, I had no right to say what I did. Erica and I have a past, and seeing her again brought back a lot of emotions. But I—I wish the two of you every happiness. You have yourself a wonderful woman."

  "Rob," Donny started, twisting in his seat to peer over the headrest.

  But Erica interrupted. "Let me out!"

  She needed air. She needed to get away from this situation. It was ludicrous, but it was also—infuriating!

  When no one moved, she said it again, her angry voice deafening in the now-quiet car. "Let me out! Now!"

  Rob obeyed, opening the door and holding it open against the gusting wind so she could slide out

  The cold air and clinging, icy snow felt good on her flushed skin. She stepped past Rob and leaned against the snowbound car, pulling in deep breaths, trying to calm her anger, her hurt, and her desire.

  "Erica, I never meant—"

  She spun toward him.

  "Do you have any idea what you've done to me?" she shouted, the wind stealing away some of the volume.

  "I know," he said.

  She laughed bitterly. "You don't have a clue."

  "No!" She didn't want to hear his words, his hollow words. Words apologizing for something that hadn't actually happened. Words that completely ignored what had.

  She marched toward him, her heeled boots slipping in the snow. "You come back into my life and, within minutes, turn it completely upside down. Do you know how long it took to forget you? To push you into a dark, faraway corner of my mind where I could no longer see your face or hear your voice?"

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn'
t let him.

  "But I did it. I moved on," she said, her voice breaking. She blinked, but the tears froze in her eyes. She forced her voice to remain even as she continued. "I've made a new life for myself, and you have the nerve to think you can waltz back in and destroy that?"

  "I hope you—and Donny can forgive me," he said, the wind tearing at the low words. But she heard him, and her fury rose again.

  "He's gay, Rob," she shouted. "Gay. Alex is his partner."

  Rob's eyes widened, then he glanced through the open car door. Both Donny and Alex peeked over the seat backs.

  Donny smiled lamely.

  Alex nodded sheepishly.

  "Then you're not getting married?" Rob said.

  Erica stared at him for a minute, and although she was not a violent person, she shoved him. He stumbled, catching himself on the door frame of the car before he fell.

  "No, I'm not getting married! But that doesn't matter! You can't toy with my life and then walk away again. You don't get to be the one who says, 'Sorry, I have goals and dreams, babe.' Not again!"

  She spun and began walking. She had no idea where she was going. She just needed to leave. To get away from the only man who'd ever made her feel—both love and hate.

  She high-stepped through the snow. Her boots, sturdy but more fashionable than functional, slipped several times. But not even that tempered her determination to get away from Rob.

  She made it a few feet before strong arms captured her from behind, lifting her bodily.

  "Let me go," she screamed, flailing with her elbows and her feet. "Just let me go."

  He held her fast, taking her hits, but not loosening his grip. Finally, exhausted, she fell limp in his arms.

  "Erica, I'm sorry." He nuzzled her neck, his lips brushing the cool skin of her neck. "I'm so sorry."

  She heard him, but she didn't respond. She had no idea what to say. Part of her just wanted to go back, back to the airport, back to before she saw him again. Back to when she could believe she'd gotten over him.

  Another part wanted to turn in his arms and kiss the breath out of him. Wanted to have him make love to her right there in the raging snowstorm. She wanted to feel like she had once. Feel the way only Rob could make her feel.