Merry Christmas, Baby

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “You’re…improving,” she gasped, feeling the first bit of climax dawning in her quivering, anxious sex.

  “You know…what they…say about…practice,” he said, taking her harder and harder. He was big and hard and wonderful and the only thing she regretted about this was not being able to put her hands on him. She loved the way he felt beneath her palms—the salty taste of his smooth skin, the texture of his male nipple against her tongue. She felt his tautened balls slapping against her aching skin, his huge hand on her hip and a masterful finger stroking her clit.

  It was too much, too perfect, too…everything.

  The orgasm swept her up, then pushed her down and her muscles clamped so hard she felt him jerk and groan behind her.

  “Delphie,” he breathed, her name a curse. “You’re killing me.”

  She sagged against the door, her legs weak, and savored the lingering pulses of release. “Good,” she breathed. “Because I don’t want to die alone.”

  She meant it in the figurative sense, but realized the double meaning as soon as the words left her mouth. He came an instant later and held her tighter, then kissed the nape of her neck. “You won’t,” he said. “At this point I’m even willing to give up the goats.”

  Delphie laughed, missing him already.

  7

  THOUGH SHE’D INVITED him over for Christmas dinner with her family, Silas had ultimately refused. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t want to intrude, but the truth was he was beginning to suspect he needed a little distance from Delphie to try to get his head back in the game.

  Because at this point, he’d already lost it.

  He’d known her three days, would be boarding a plane first thing in the morning and though he always dreaded leaving, it was never quite like this.

  Right now the idea of being so far from Delphie made him feel utterly miserable, which was cause for concern on more levels than he cared to count.

  He couldn’t be this invested in someone he’d only known three days, could he? Surely not. Granted, it felt as if he’d known her a lot longer than that and she was by far the most interesting person he’d ever met. And the sex…

  His balls tightened just thinking about it.

  He couldn’t get enough of her.

  He looked at her mouth and instantly craved her. She made him crazy with wanting, and the perpetual need to slip out of his skin and into hers only worsened the more time they spent together. And, of course, he wanted to spend every second with her, so that wasn’t helping matters, either.

  He could tell that she’d hated leaving him this morning, but he’d assured her he’d be fine. He’d wrapped presents for his parents and sister and left them under the tree, and he’d picked up a little something for Delphie yesterday when he’d been out, as well. It was a small pendant made of blue sea glass that perfectly matched the shade of her eyes.

  He’d just taken the bread out of the oven when he heard her knock at the door. “You cooked,” she said, her eyes sparkling with delight. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to,” he said simply. “Although you’re probably not very hungry.”

  Her gaze slid over him slowly as she set aside a bag and shrugged out of her coat. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about eating all day.”

  Her eyes lingered on his groin, alerting him to what exactly she’d been thinking of eating, and every bit of the moisture evaporated from his mouth.

  “I’ve got a special Christmas treat for you,” she said.

  “You do?” Did that hoarse voice belong to him?

  She gave him a gentle shove, sending him toppling onto the couch. “Yep.”

  She retrieved the bag she’d brought in and handed it to him. The scent of oranges and yeast and icing instantly enveloped him and he grinned. “You made the orange rolls?”

  “I tried,” she said. “I’m not sure they’re exactly what you’re used to, but…” She pulled a little shrug, then dropped to her knees in front of him. His zipper whined as he withdrew the sticky treat and she waited for him to take his first bite before she wrapped her hot mouth around his dick and sucked.

  He came embarrassingly close to coming instantly and his eyes rolled back in his head.

  She worked the slippery skin against her hand, licked and sucked and lapped and laved. She massaged his balls, paid particular attention to the tender area beneath the full head of his penis. From the unbelievably happy look on her face, she was enjoying eating him as much as he was loving the orange roll.

  He’d never look at the dessert the same way.

  As he popped the last bite into his mouth, she sucked harder. Then he came. Her eyes met his as she lapped him up, savoring the taste of his release.

  “Silas?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  He dropped his head against the back of the couch and chuckled softly.

  Oh, yes, it had been after all.

  “I’VE GOT SOMETHING for you,” he said later that evening, after he’d reciprocated her earlier gesture. Delphie was spent and boneless and dreading the morning.

  “You do? You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know,” he said. “That’s what makes it a present.”

  She laughed against his chest. “I thought you’d just given me your present.”

  “I think you’ll like this one better,” he said.

  She smiled. “Oh, I doubt that very seriously.”

  He tsked. “You haven’t even seen it yet.” He reached under the Christmas tree and pulled a small package out for her, then handed it to her.

  Damn. Her gaze flew to his. He’d gotten her a real present. She’d just made him some orange rolls and given him a blow job. She hadn’t expected this. “Oh,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  Fingers trembling, she did just that. “Oh, Silas,” she breathed. “Sea glass.”

  “I thought of you when I saw it.”

  “Thank you,” she said, more touched than she could imagine. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s the color of your eyes.”

  “You don’t have to flatter me, you know. I’m a sure thing.”

  He stared at her. “You need to learn to take a compliment.”

  Maybe so, but this felt as though it changed things. Their brief but glorious relationship had been fun and uncomplicated and she thought she’d done a good job of keeping her feelings in check. But this little token changed things, made her realize just how much she truly…cared for him.

  In the morning he was going to leave again, which in theory had made him safe. But she didn’t feel safe now, and he damned sure wouldn’t be safe when he went back to Iraq.

  She was going to worry and be miserable and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Too late she realized that this had never been uncomplicated, that she could never disengage her heart like that.

  Silas Davenport, damn him, was special. He always had been, whether she’d been willing to admit it or not.

  “Here,” he said. “Let me put it on you.”

  She turned and felt his fingers brush the back of her neck. Another shiver eddied through her and she felt her eyes burn.

  Oh, hell.

  “Your parents are really going to hate that they’ve missed you,” she said, looking for a subject change.

  “I hate that I’ve missed them, too,” he told her. “But I have certainly enjoyed spending time with you.” He studied her, smiled. “You’re fun.”

  She ducked her head and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”

  “See,” he said. “This is what I love about you. You give me the best Christmas present of my life without batting a lash. I give you a compliment and you blush six shades of red.”

  “You know what I love about you?” she asked.

  “I hope that it’s something truly depraved,” he murmured, his gaze drifting over her.

  “I love how
you feel…inside me.”

  “I can hook you up,” he said, rolling on top of her.

  Delphie leaned forward and licked a path up his throat. “Make it count, soldier. We’re on a time line here.”

  He did.

  8

  “YOU SERIOUSLY DIDN’T have to do this,” Silas said as they stood in the airport. He had his duffel packed, his papers ready. Everything was a go.

  Only he didn’t want to.

  “Nonsense,” she said briskly, a wobbly smile on her face. “You’re a friend, Silas, and friends don’t let friends drive themselves to the airport.”

  A friend. He knew that was true, but for the first time in his life he wanted to be so much more. He wasn’t exactly sure when it had happened, but Delphie Moreau had burrowed under his skin and attached herself to his heart. Was he in love with her? Honestly, he didn’t know. He’d never been in love before and had nothing to compare it to, no frame of reference.

  But he knew he cared about her, that he didn’t want to leave her and that the idea of anyone else eating his fried chicken set his teeth on edge and made him want to break things.

  If it wasn’t love, then it was damned close.

  She’d made arrangements to return the rental to a place in Folly Beach and had driven him to the airport herself. It meant that he got to spend more time with her, of course, but he suspected it was going to make saying goodbye all the more difficult.

  Shit.

  How had this happened? At what point had she become so damned important? His heart was beating so fast in his chest he was afraid it was going to burst right through. His palms and feet tingled and he had a horrible premonition that when he tried to walk away he wasn’t going to be able to do it, that she would have to make the move first.

  “Any idea when you’ll get to come home again?” she asked. She posed the question lightly, as though it didn’t matter, but her mouth was white around the edges and she shifted from one foot to the other, as though she was about to come out of her skin.

  “My tour is up in two months,” he said. “I’ll definitely come home for a little while then.”

  She smiled. “Is it going to send you into a panic if I say I’d like to see you?”

  Relief poured through him, loosening his tight limbs. “Not at all.” He paused, darted a look at her. “I was actually hoping that I could call you, that you’d write.”

  She nodded, her eyes twinkling with tentative happiness. “I’d like that very much,” she said.

  Damn, this was hard. He had an entirely new appreciation for the guys who left behind wives and significant others now. This was horrible. Like lopping off an appendage.

  She raised up onto her tippy toes and kissed him. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, lifted her off the floor and deepened the kiss. He poured every bit of his feelings into the mating of their mouths, showed her everything he didn’t have the words to say. Catcalls and applause suddenly rang out and he reluctantly pulled away and rested his forehead against hers.

  “Be careful over there,” she said, her voice thick. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears she tried to keep him from seeing.

  He nodded and made himself turn and walk away, and every step that took him farther from her became harder and harder to make.

  Bloody damned hell.

  WELL, THIS ABSOLUTELY SUCKED, Delphie thought as she watched Silas disappear into the security line. She told herself to move, but couldn’t seem to get her feet to cooperate.

  She’d realized late last night that this was going to be more terrible than she’d suspected. He’d mentioned his early departure and her heart had given a painful little squeeze. She’d ignored it then because she hadn’t wanted to do anything that was a) going to clue him in to her sudden discomfort or b) ruin what was left of their time together by alluding to feelings it should be impossible to have.

  She’d only known him three days. People didn’t fall in three days. Did they? Rational, sane people? Ordinary levelheaded people? Not to say that she was any of those things—clearly she wasn’t, otherwise she wouldn’t have this huge lump in her throat—but it certainly lessened her ability to make fun of her sister’s drive-thru love connection if it was the case.

  The idea of not seeing him, not tasting him, not hearing that wicked laugh she’d grown so attached to made something in her chest twist and squeeze. She loved the sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear, the feel of his big hands sliding over her bare back. She liked kissing the soft spot beneath his jaw, loved the smell of his skin.

  Two months before she’d see him again? Geez, it already felt like an eternity and he’d been gone less than a minute.

  This sure as hell didn’t bode well for the next sixty days.

  With a deep bolstering breath, Delphie turned and started toward the exit.

  “Delphie!”

  Silas? Her heart leaped into her throat. She turned, only to see him running toward her. She frowned up at him as he skidded to a stop. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Aren’t you going to miss your flight?”

  “Not if I hurry,” he said. His gaze searched hers and he seemed at a loss for the right words, which was bizarre in and of itself. He pushed his hand through his hair, looked away, then back at her.

  “Silas?” she asked, confused. “Is something wrong? Have you forgotten something?”

  His dark gaze latched on to hers. “Look, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I need to ask you something.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “How do you feel about me?” he wanted to know. “You like me well enough?”

  A strangled laugh broke loose in her throat at the absurdity of his question. “I think you know I like you well enough, Silas.”

  “And if I wasn’t leaving right now, would you want to see me again on a regular basis?”

  She nodded. Definitely. “I would.”

  “And if we were seeing each other on a regular basis, then we’d both want exclusivity, right?”

  Exclusivity? Was he asking what she thought he was asking? “We would,” she said haltingly. She felt a frown wrinkle her brow. “What are you trying to say, Silas?”

  “I’m saying I don’t want anyone else eating your fried chicken,” he said significantly, the words so fierce they sounded as if they’d been pulled out by the roots.

  She laughed and inclined her head knowingly. “And does that mean—”

  His lips curled with wry humor. “Trust me, I won’t be seeing anyone. I promise.”

  Delphie felt a smile slide over her lips as what he said fully registered. She laughed, her heart full with hope and the possibility of true love. “We just went from fun to serious, didn’t we?”

  He kissed her again, drew back and sighed. “All that means is that we’re going to be having some serious fun when I return.”

  She smiled up at him. “Good,” she said. “I only have one question.”

  “What’s that?”

  She hesitated, peeked at him from beneath lowered lashes. “Do you have a hunting dog?”

  He guffawed. “No, but I’ll get one. And the goats and the dairy cow, if necessary.”

  “Then we’ll be farmers.”

  “So long as we’re together,” he said, shrugging as if that was the only thing that mattered.

  And it was.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-8174-5

  MERRY CHRISTMAS, BABY

  Copyright © 2011 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  The publisher acknowledges the

  copyright holders of the individual works as follows:

  IT’S CHRISTMAS, COWBOY!

  Copyright © 2011 by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  NORTHERN FANTASY

  Copyright © 2011 by Jennifer LaBrecque

  HE’LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

  Copyright © 2011 by Rhonda Nelson

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