The Promise of Christmas

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “I’d like to take you back to a first date we might have had, Les,” he said, his voice, his expression, completely serious. “You said you had a crush on me.”

  Her throat was thick. “I did. All through junior high and high school.”

  Surprise lit his eyes. “That long? How could I not have known?”

  “You were too busy getting laid,” she told him, allowing only a hint of the pain that had caused her to come through.

  “I was a fool.”

  No. He’d been a relatively healthy teenage football star. While she’d been busy hiding dark and shameful secrets.

  “So…we’re going to rewrite history, just for tonight,” he said. “If you’re game.”

  “If you can rewrite history for even five seconds, I’m game,” she told him, trying to find the woman who’d been at that party tonight. And finding, instead, the young girl who’d once lived for the dream that Kip Webster would ask her to the prom. That child had honestly believed she would die happy if only she could have that one night.

  “We’re at the ice-skating pond at the corner of Alum Creek Drive,” he said, naming a spot in Columbus a lot of the kids had gone to when they were young. “I’m holding your hand and all your friends are envious.”

  Kip took her hand and Leslie closed her eyes, imagining the cold biting her nose and toes, her skates gliding on the ice, the breeze rushing by her, the sound of other kids’ voices, yelling to each other. A girl screamed as she went down on the ice. Her friends laughed. There was a firepit over where they changed their shoes. She could smell it. And hot dogs cooking.

  “It’s the Halloween party of my freshman year,” she told Kip. “Everyone was there that night….”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  OVER THE NEXT HOUR Kip took Leslie on two years’ worth of dates. They held hands, he put his arm around her, they laughed. He kissed her good-night, quick chaste pecks. And that was all.

  And then he was home from college her junior year. They were in his father’s camper truck parked on a deserted dirt road out at Alum creek. She’d heard of that place. Almost everyone who was going steady went there.

  She’d never been.

  The sound of the Expedition’s door opening returned Leslie abruptly, disappointingly, to the present. Kip hurried around to the back, opened the hatch, grabbed something that he shoved under his arm. Then he pushed a button and the seats in the back went down.

  Her heart started to beat rapidly.

  Next he was at the side door behind his seat, pulling a lever, lowering that seat. And then he was directly behind her, moving quickly through the dark night, his footsteps mere whispers against the desert floor.

  She’d heard stories about things that had happened out at Alum creek. Crazy wonderful stories about skyrockets and bliss. About love and tenderness and…

  He was climbing in behind her, spreading a quilt. And back out again, getting closer.

  Her door opened and Kip’s hand appeared. “Come and lie down with me, Les,” he said softly. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do. Just lie with me.”

  Her stomach got that excited roller-coaster feeling and she felt hot. She really wanted to do as he asked. So she took his hand, slid out of her seat and, completely disregarding the expensive gown she was wearing, hitched it up and climbed inside the cocoon he’d made for them.

  Kip’s kisses started out different from the way Leslie remembered. More hesitant, less passionate. While she appreciated what he was doing, loved what he was doing, she hungered for the more mature expression she’d grown addicted to over the past weeks. But he wouldn’t let her rush him, kept breaking off to talk to her about inane things like wedding rings and Christmas presents and eggnog.

  And then he’d kiss her again, propped up on his elbow beside her in the back of the car, leaning over to gently caress her lips with his. By the time his tongue entered her mouth fully, engaging her in a ritual she’d come to know with him, her lower body was actually aching with a feeling she didn’t recognize at all.

  Could this be the beginning of an orgasm?

  Dare she hope?

  Kip smoothly unhooked the halter strap around her neck but didn’t pull the material down. Aware of what he was doing, she thought briefly that this was when it would end, disappointed because she wasn’t ready to stop, and then his tongue distracted her again, advancing and then retreating.

  He was driving her crazy.

  In some foggy area of her brain, she supposed that was his plan. Kip Webster was very good at what he did.

  His lips left her mouth, trailing over her chin, her jaw, until he reached her neck. Delicious goose bumps spread all over her body and she arched toward him. She was a teenager, curious, in love, trusting. While his arms supported her back, his tongue trailed a course from her throat down to her chest, leaving soft kisses in its wake.

  She moaned. And felt more pressure deep in her belly when Kip moaned, too. Imagine, Leslie Sanderson out with Kip Webster, and him wanting her so badly he groaned with it. The thought was heady. The knowledge that Kip’s arms were around her in real life, his lips against her skin, made her feel light-headed and giddy.

  She felt her dress slip down further, knew where he was going. She wondered how the cool air would feel on her naked breast. And waited for the wet and satisfying sensation of his mouth against her nipple. It was hard and throbbing with the need to be touched by him, by his mouth.

  So slowly she wondered if she’d go insane with waiting, he made his way closer and closer to her craving tip, exposing more and more of her skin along the way. The hardness of the car beneath her hips was a strange comfort to her, reminding her that she was a teenager. Safe. She cried out when Kip’s tongue first touched her nipple. Reaching upward, she pressed against him, feeling vitally alive, physically aware as she’d never been before.

  “You are so beautiful. Like silk. What you do to me, woman.”

  Kip’s voice. Thank God it was Kip’s voice. She was glad of the reminder. Wanted to remember always that she was with Kip. Only Kip.

  The relief of that brought tears to her throat. And an awareness of the reason for those tears. Another voice, telling her how special she was. Words she needed desperately to hear—but hearing them in a way that was all wrong. Right and wrong, so messed up and confused.

  His mouth moved to her other breast and because it had been aching, too, she offered it, waiting for the sweet relief. She felt the tug, gentle and warm. The softness of his tongue.

  And more tears. Why couldn’t this have come first? Why couldn’t this be the only memory?

  Leslie tried not to give in. She tried to sing a song in her head. To count percentages on a deal she was putting together. Anything not to go back, to feel Cal, or maybe worse, not to feel anything at all.

  Kip’s hand slid down to her thigh, moving up beneath her dress to the panties that were still wet with a desire gone cold. His pants were unzipped. Had she done that or had he? She could feel him against her leg through the cotton of his briefs.

  And shot up. “No!” she screamed, covering her ears with her hands, shaking her head back and forth. “No! No! Stop it! Please stop it!”

  “Ssshhh.” The voice was soft, reassuring, but too male.

  “Get away from me! Please get away…” She was crying, trembling, aware somehow that she was falling apart, and yet completely unable to stop herself.

  “It’s okay, honey, it’s just me, and you’re the boss here. Always. I’m zipping up my pants, now, see?”

  Out of morbid curiosity, she looked. And was a little calmed when she saw that he was doing exactly what he’d said.

  “You unzipped them, did you know that?” he asked her almost conversationally.

  His easy tone prompted an answer. She shook her head. She hadn’t known.

  “I want to tie this up for you, okay?” he asked her.

  Like a helpless child, she nodded.

  “There, is that better?”


  She nodded again. Tired, foggy-headed, unable to figure out what she wanted.

  Or what scared her most. The feelings Kip had raised in her that she couldn’t assuage, or the ones she’d raised in herself that prevented a normal life.

  “You aren’t angry?” She felt stupid, sitting there, a grown woman in a silk gown, her hair falling out of the updo she’d arranged with such care earlier that evening.

  “Of course I’m not angry.” His tone was gentle, as was the hand that smoothed the hair off her forehead. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

  “Are you crazy?” Leslie cried. “I freaked.”

  “But you liked it at first, Les, I could tell.”

  She had. She wasn’t going to deny that. “But what good is it if I can’t go through with it?”

  “You’re only seventeen, remember?” he asked. “You probably won’t be ready to go all the way until you’re at least twenty.”

  She shook her head, not so sure he wasn’t the crazy one. “You’re nuts, you know that?”

  “What I know is that you were getting close to an orgasm,” he said, embarrassing her with his frankness. Which was hard to believe considering the shameful and dirty things he knew about her.

  “Admit it, you were,” he said, a tender smile on his lips.

  “Okay, yes, I was, dammit. And I wanted it so badly, Kip! What if there’s something wrong with me? What if I just can’t get there?”

  “You can.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know female bodies,” he told her without bravado. “Yours is ready and waiting for you to let it happen.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “I wish I had your confidence,” she said dryly, wishing…she didn’t know for what.

  “Can you handle one more experiment?” he asked.

  “Can you handle a crazy lunatic on your hands?”

  “If she’s you, always.”

  “Okay.” She had no idea what he had in mind, but at the moment, she didn’t care. He was Kip. She trusted him. And if anyone could help her, she realized it was him.

  Not because Juliet had told her so. Not because the books gave her clues. But because her heart just knew.

  “Let’s move to the front seat,” Kip said, surprising her. And perhaps disappointing her a bit. She’d thought for a second there that he had another miracle idea up his sleeve, one that might actually get her where they both needed her to be.

  But she did as she was told, staring out at the city lights as she waited for him to come around the car to his seat beside her.

  “Okay,” he said, leaning over her to pull at the lever that adjusted her seat, tilting it back. Then he put an arm around her shoulders. “I want you to close your eyes and relax. The next few minutes are just about you, Les. Your pleasure. Nothing else. The entire universe is asleep except for you and me and I exist only to please you.”

  She grinned. “Careful, Webster, you might create a monster,” she said, but she closed her eyes and tried to pretend she wasn’t nervous.

  “Relax,” he said, running a hand lightly along her thigh. He caressed her belly, her thighs, reminding her to relax, that this was her time and that he was there only to give her whatever she wanted. He talked to her about how smart she was, how much her business sense impressed him. He loved her chocolate pixies and the fact that she was more apt to laugh than cry over spilled milk. He found her patience with Kayla’s temper tantrums amazing.

  And then he stopped talking. His hand grew more bold, but no less gentle, finding its way beneath the skirt of her gown, moving in circles around her skin as he gradually climbed higher. Leslie had never experienced anything like it. He’d seduced her with his words, his unselfishness, until she was actually feeling special.

  And he’d seduced her with the idea that a moment existed purely for her pleasure. Leslie wasn’t sure she could pull off that particular fantasy. Personal, physical pleasure wasn’t something she’d ever concentrated on before. Wasn’t sure she knew how. But for Kip she was willing to try anything.

  And she wanted to try for herself.

  The warmth of his hand was fully under her dress now and Leslie let her legs fall open just enough to let him reach her inner thigh. He touched her there, massaging lightly for a while, and then, accidentally or so it seemed, his knuckles touched her crotch.

  He hadn’t meant to. At least not yet. She was sure of that. But she’d liked it.

  “Do you want me touch you here?” He brushed her again.

  Her breathless “Yes!” came before she’d even had a chance to think about his question.

  And what a wonderful yes it was. Powerful. She’d been given the choice.

  She’d tell him to stop, too, just as soon as she had to.

  Until then, and because this was only for her pleasure, because she was perfectly safe, and because she was damned curious, she spread her legs a little further, making his job a little easier. The first deliberate touch of his fingers against her femininity sent shock waves right through her.

  “You liked that?” he asked her, placing soft kisses along her temple.

  Sliding down further in the seat, Leslie spread her legs wider, nodding. She didn’t open her eyes, couldn’t. She was too caught up in the strange and wonderful world he was showing her. It would end, and when it did, she’d have to come back to herself.

  “Let yourself feel the pleasure, honey.” His words continued the enchantment. “You’re allowed to feel this.”

  She believed him. And cried out when his fingers slid beneath the silk of her panties and touched her. He didn’t slide inside as she’d expected—and feared—he would, figuring that was when it would end.

  Instead he touched her further, rubbing softly at first and then progressively harder, faster.

  “That…feels…so…goooood….” The voice didn’t sound like hers. It was husky. Knowing. “Oh, Kip…” She had one knee against the door of the car, the other against the console. She felt herself heading someplace, reaching for something she didn’t recognize at all.

  “Ahhh,” she cried out, finding the top of the precipice and diving off into splendor so complete her entire body rocked with it. It felt good. She felt so good. In love. Euphoric. Like she could do anything.

  Spasm after spasm pulsed inside her and she swore she saw stars. And when they faded, she was overcome with such peace she thought she really had died and found paradise.

  Except this was better, because if she’d died, she’d have had to leave Kip. She threw her arms around him, still reveling in sensation.

  “Thank you.”

  “Ah, darling, you have no idea what you’ve given me,” he said. There was an odd note in his voice, and she opened her eyes to see tears on his cheeks.

  “The physical act of sex is nothing but body parts performing actions,” he told her, his eyes slightly wide as though he’d just discovered this. “It’s the total giving of heart and soul that turns it into lovemaking.”

  She reached up, running her fingers through his short hair. “You’ve done this hundreds of times,” she reminded him, always needing to be aware, to be honest. At least with herself.

  “Strange as this is going to sound to you, I’ve just made love for the first time in my life.”

  “You didn’t even get to do—well, you know…anything.”

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” he said, still looking bemused as he grinned at her. “All that experience and it took you to show me what it’s all about.”

  They had a long road ahead of them. Leslie didn’t kid herself about that. It might be years—or never—before she could take Kip into her body and ride with him to the ecstasy she’d just experienced. But the thought didn’t hurt her as it once had.

  For some women, heaven was orgasm. For some it was ice cream. For Leslie Sanderson, heaven was having finally found her soul mate.

  EPILOGUE

  “THERE’S ONE MORE PRESEN
T, Kip! See, there’s one more!” Jonathan, hopping from foot to foot in his race-car pajamas, pointed under the lighted Christmas tree about half past six on Christmas morning. He’d woken them at five with his squeals that Santa had come. Surprising herself, Leslie hadn’t felt the least bit embarrassed to be caught sleeping in a man’s arms.

  “I see it, son. Why don’t you get it out for me?” Kip asked, his expression rather serious for a man who’d spent the past hour playing Santa Claus for a couple of excited children. Santa Claus in hastily donned gray sweats and a white T-shirt. She could get very used to that version.

  “Careful!” Clara said, looking peaceful in her cream quilted robe. Sitting in an armchair, her opened gifts stacked around her, she was sipping the coffee Leslie had just brought in. “Don’t let the tree tip over on him!”

  With a hand raised toward the trunk of the tree, Kip waited for the boy to scoot under it and back out, a small gold-foil-wrapped box in his hand.

  “Mow! Mow!” Kayla sang, dancing around her pile of loot. She stopped, glanced down at the electronic color game Santa had brought her, and stooped to turn it on.

  “Here it is!” Jonathan held up the box.

  Kip took the box, and, recognizing the size, Leslie held her breath. “It says here it’s for your aunt Leslie,” he said.

  Her gaze flew to his as Kip handed the box back to the child. Kip had already given her the complete Sorrelli Crystal Ice collection to wear for their wedding later in the week.

  Eyes locked with Kip’s, she took the box, opened it, and then glanced down. Inside the black box, nestled in a bed of black velvet, was the most stunning heart-shaped diamond ring she’d ever seen.

  “Seems Sorrelli doesn’t make rings.” Kip was still standing by the tree. “But I figure you don’t need the magic from the crystals as much anymore.”

  Giving him the box as he approached, holding out the ring finger of her left hand, she had to agree with him.