Holly Lane (Destiny, Ohio)

by Toni Blake

  “Be careful,” she teased, smiling now, “or I might decide I need a fix-it man to whip things into shape around here and take you up on that.”

  “I’d be happy to be your fix-it man, Sue Ann,” he told her smoothly, his voice going a bit deeper, his eyes once again making her feel as if he’d actually reached out to touch her—and she felt that invisible touch everywhere. Whoa.

  “Well, it’s getting late,” she said—maybe too abruptly. Because yeah, it was a huge relief that he’d decided not to testify for Jeff, and even more enormous if he’d done that for her. And she definitely felt a real connection with him tonight. But none of that meant it would be wise to suddenly go rushing headlong into this.

  And he clearly got the point and wasn’t going to fight her on it. “You’re right,” he replied easily, slowly beginning to get to his feet. “It’s been a long day, and I’m sure you’re tired. I am, too.”

  “Yeah,” she murmured behind him, standing up herself, moving the popcorn bowl to the coffee table, then following him toward the foyer, where his coat hung and his boots sat waiting from when he’d taken them off after sledding. But then she glanced over her shoulder to the fireplace, remembering. “Oh, your gloves and hat—I’ll go get ’em.”

  When she returned, he’d put on his boots and jacket, and he clutched the collar of the bigger parka he’d worn for sledding in one fist. Sue Ann found herself reaching up with both hands to pull his knit hat onto his head, then playfully wrapping his scarf around his neck, twice, as he smiled down at her.

  “Okay, I think I’m all bundled up, Mom,” he said.

  She laughed softly, then turned to open the door, now—suddenly—feeling oddly . . . hesitant. Since, inside, she didn’t really want him to go. She just knew that he should, knew it was best.

  Best, best, best, she told herself. Even when he stepped up into the open doorway, looking incredibly cuddly and warm. Even when the cold air rushed in around them and made her want to snuggle in his arms.

  Just then, Shemekia Copeland’s sexy “Stay a Little Longer, Santa” began to play, echoing into the foyer, reminding her of that moment in the church basement when she’d wanted to kiss Santa Adam so badly that her whole body had tingled with it. And oh Lord, it was tempting—everything about him was tempting. And maybe someday—maybe even sooner than she’d thought—she’d be able to open her heart to him more, to get past her fears.

  But for now—best, best, best. Just let him go. Just let the night end.

  Adam knew he should just walk away. They’d had a nice day together—more than a nice day—and it was time to leave. Hell, she’d even put his hat on for him, and as much as he liked having her that close—well, it was a pretty big hint. She wants you to go. So don’t be an idiot and blow this nice thing you’ve had with her today.

  And yet . . . damn. She looked so pretty standing there just a few inches away from him, all the snowflakes on her close-fitting turtleneck seeming to hug her body, transforming her into a living snow angel before his very eyes. And with everything in him, he burned to make her believe he was a good man who could be counted on, a man she should have in her life. And his body ached for her.

  It wasn’t a decision he made so much as a driving compulsion that led him to lift his hand to her cheek, chilled now from the cold night wind swirling around them. And he could see in those pretty brown eyes that he wasn’t the only one wanting more. Even if she was sending him away. His heart beat faster with the knowledge, the knowledge that made him lean slowly down . . . until his mouth pressed against hers.

  She sucked in her breath as he kissed her—but then she relaxed into it and began to kiss him back, like an invitation to stretch it out, deepen it. So Adam took his time, moving his mouth on hers, drinking in the taste and feel of her, wanting her in a more profound way than he ever had before.

  When finally he ended the passionate kiss, it left him a little breathless—and he leaned his forehead over against hers, trying to get hold of himself. They stayed that way, silent, still, until he raised his head back up to peer down at her. And his next words came straight from the heart—he didn’t weigh it, he just said it. “Sue Ann, I think we could really have something together if you’d give me a chance.”

  Again, the woman standing so close to him pulled in her breath, let it back out. Then she whispered up to him. “I want to, I really do. I’m just . . . not sure.”

  “I know,” he told her. “I get it, I understand.”

  And then—God help him—he kissed her again. Once more, it wasn’t planned, it wasn’t a choice—it was just the chemistry between them, smoldering hotter and hotter. It was simply what his body told him to do, and he was beyond fighting it. He wanted to simply be close to her, listen to her breathe, touch her face, kiss the little shell-shaped ear she’d just shoved a lock of hair behind.

  And so when the kiss was over, that’s what he did—he found himself pressing his mouth to her cheek, then moving to kiss the rounded edge of her delicate little ear. He drank in the scent of her hair, let it swirl in his senses along with the aroma of the pine wreath on the open door and the much more vague smell of winter, and snow. She clutched at his jacket now, her fingers curling into fists at his chest as he stopped himself once again but didn’t move, his mouth still touching the tender flesh of her ear. “I’m sorry,” he told her, sounding—feeling—a little shaky now. “I don’t mean to . . . ”

  “I know,” she whispered below him—but like him, she didn’t move, didn’t let go. They stood frozen that way, like an ice sculpture in the doorway, for so long that Adam finally began to feel the cold seeping into his skin, and he figured Sue Ann must be freezing.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  “I can keep you warm, Sue Ann.”

  She drew back slightly, looked up at him. “I know, but . . . ” She still grasped at the fabric across his chest like she was gripping a lifeline. “I still don’t know if I’m ready to trust somebody again, Adam.”

  “Do you want me to go?”

  “Yes,” she murmured—and he was crushed. Until she added, “No,” and he understood. She was torn. And it was his fault. And God, he was sorry about that, but right now . . . damn, right now, if she wasn’t going to make him go, if she wasn’t going to push him away or tell him to stop . . . he couldn’t. He just didn’t possess the will.

  So he kissed her again—but not as slowly as before, and not as soft. And as she returned the kiss, as her arms looped sweetly around his neck, he found himself shifting their bodies away from the door and using one foot to kick it closed and finally shut out the cold.

  He backed her out of the foyer—still kissing her the whole time, needing her wildly—and toward the living room. She stopped the kissing then, just long enough to untwine the scarf from around his neck and begin working at the zipper on his jacket. He’d dropped his bigger winter coat somewhere along the way in order to free up his hands, both of which he lifted to her face as he moved in for another hungry kiss—and then he found himself letting them glide downward, his touch skimming over her chest, her round breasts, finally stopping at her waist.

  They both breathed heavily now, and Sue Ann pushed his jacket from his shoulders. He let go of her only long enough to free himself of it—and then he was closing his arms around her waist and shifting their position once more, until they fell back on the couch, her underneath him, right where he wanted her.

  He resumed their kisses as he gently lowered his weight, nestling his hard cock at the perfect juncture of her thighs. She pulled in her breath, the sound at once lovely and urgent, as he kissed her yet again, hot and sweet, pressing his tongue between her lips as one palm molded gently to her outer thigh. God, it felt good to touch her, to get to explore her curves again. And as they made out, his hand slid smoothly up over her hip, into the feminine indention of her waist, and back onto her breast—where he let it stop. Her soft, heated gasp only fueled him and he began
to massage the soft mound—slow, deep, thorough.

  Oh yeah, this being-real-with-her thing—it was working. Big time.

  When he spoke, his voice came out raspy near her ear. “I, uh, might be trying to put the moves on you now,” he admitted, half teasing, half not. Yet then he immediately recanted, rethinking it. “But . . . not really trying. So they’re not really moves. I don’t plan it. It’s just what keeps happening when I’m with you. I keep wanting you.”

  “I want you, too,” she breathily confessed, the words stiffening his erection even more. “But . . . Sophie’s right upstairs.”

  “How about your bedroom?” he suggested. “We’ll lock the door, but you’ll be right there if she needs you for anything.”

  “Spoken like a true parent,” she said, peering up at him, voice still weak with passion.

  “No,” he told her. “Just spoken like a guy who wants to make hot, sweet love to you.”

  Fifteen

  “Pray come to me.”

  Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

  Adam trailed after her up the stairs, eager to get behind that bedroom door with her as fast as humanly possible, his every male sense in overdrive. Thank God she didn’t make me leave. Thank God the bedroom suggestion worked for her. Thank God we’re almost there.

  Once at the top of the old wooden stairs, he followed her silently past the darkened doorway he knew to be Sophie’s, then down the hall and into the bedroom he’d been in only once before, on the day he’d helped Jeff and Sue Ann move in almost ten years ago. This room, too, was bathed in darkness until Sue Ann flicked on a dim bedside lamp to reveal a room done in pale shades of pink and green, a log cabin quilt adorning the big four-poster Shaker-style bed.

  When she turned to face him, he nearly gulped at the sight of her. Yeah, he’d spent the whole afternoon and evening with her, but it was the look in her eyes right now: some combination of innocence and hunger, of caution overridden by want. And again, he hated that he’d made her feel she had to be cautious about him—but he was pretty damn excited by the want.

  “Shut the door,” she whispered, reminding him.

  “Oh,” he mumbled—that quickly, he’d forgotten, too caught up in his desire. So he turned to quietly close it, flipping the old lock, and it felt like isolating them in a private cocoon together.

  He spent another hushed moment just looking at her then, aware that their previous encounters had been fraught with uncertainty or surprise, awkwardness or hesitation—and this wasn’t like that. This time there was no reason to rush, or to feel uncomfortable. Now they could take their time.

  “Take off your clothes for me,” he requested with calm confidence. “I want to see you. The other times, I barely got to enjoy that part.”

  His admission brought a small, brief smile to her face—just before she crossed her arms toward her hips and removed the turtleneck over her head. Underneath, she wore a lacy ice-blue bra, the rounded curves of her breasts swelling provocatively from the cups, so pretty that it almost took his breath away. Or maybe it was still the expression on her face making him harder by the second—she bit her lower lip, the color of ripe berries, looking at once shy but ready, her eyes burning on him in invitation.

  Tossing the turtleneck aside, she then reached for the button on her jeans and soon began to slither out of them, wiggling her hips until they dropped, then stepping free of the denim. When he saw her panties—simple white cotton but sporting little pale blue snowflakes—he couldn’t resist a grin. “I like the way your panties match your turtleneck.”

  She smiled timidly back. “Believe it or not, a complete coincidence.”

  But he didn’t care. Coincidental or not, he still thought of her as his own personal snow angel now. And he knew exactly what he wanted to do to his snow angel. “Lie down,” he whispered, his voice coming out deeper without planning it. He wanted to make her feel good.

  She sucked in her breath lightly at the command, perhaps a little caught off guard—but then sat on the edge of the bed, soon lying on her side, propped on one elbow as she continued looking at him.

  “Aren’t you gonna get undressed, too?” she asked.

  “Right now is all about you,” he informed her.

  “Then you should take off your clothes, because that’s what I want.”

  Okay, that he could get into. In fact, it sent a fresh wave of heat all through him. For some reason, it reminded him of that first night they’d spent together, of the moment she’d turned quietly more aggressive, going down on her knees and taking him in her mouth. He liked Sue Ann getting a little aggressive. So as he moved toward the bed, he didn’t hesitate to rip off his thermal pullover and throw it aside, then undo the button on his jeans.

  Yet after that he forgot about getting his jeans off—because that’s when he reached her. And other urges took over.

  Placing one knee on the mattress next to her, he climbed atop the quilt, near her feet. He hadn’t noticed, but she still wore socks, fuzzy ones the same pale blue as her lingerie. Another grin snuck out as he lifted one ankle in his hand. “These are sexy,” he told her.

  She flashed a playful smirk. “Shut up and take them off me.”

  “That’ll be my pleasure, sugar plum.”

  Yet he didn’t just take them off—as he flung the first blue sock aside, he kept her ankle balanced in his hand, then bent down to kiss the top of her foot. She pulled in her breath in response and the look in her eyes was more than welcoming. Oh yeah, he liked Sue Ann this way. Finally.

  Tossing the other sock away, he dipped down to rain gentle kisses across that foot as well, which made her bite her bottom lip as her gaze narrowed sexily on him. And I’m just getting started, babe.

  From there Adam made slow, thorough work of kissing his way up Sue Ann’s smooth calves and ascending the top of one silky thigh. Her sharp little intake of breath as he passed over her hip to reach her stomach stiffened the bulge in his jeans further, especially when she began to thread her fingers through his hair. Her skin tasted slightly salty and sweet.

  Soon he kissed a path between her breasts, letting his hands play over their outer curves, brushing his thumbs across her nipples just one soft, teasing time. He loved her hot, gentle gasp, but he didn’t let it stop him from easing more kisses upward, onto her slender neck, which she bent to one side to accommodate him.

  When he reached the spot just below her ear, he whispered, “Feel good?”

  “Mmm, feels good,” she promised. Still all sexy and inviting. Still no doubt.

  Of course, he couldn’t be that near her face without kissing her pretty lips, so that’s what he did next, just following the instincts of his mouth. As he pressed his tongue inward, her own joined the sensual fray, and they continued that way for a few long, languid moments while he used his hands to slowly, tenderly explore her—caressing her neck and shoulders, her stomach and waist, and the perfect breasts hidden under lace.

  And yeah, he wanted to go slow right now, but he was getting harder by the second and he wasn’t a saint, so it wasn’t long before he found himself lowering one icy blue bra strap and kissing his way down onto the mound of flesh within the cup. And mmm—oh God, yeah. Her soft little moan told him she was as excited as him, especially when he closed his mouth over her beautifully taut nipple—a firm, tight bead on his tongue.

  As he got lost in the pleasure of suckling her, Sue Ann lifted slightly, reaching behind her to undo her bra. When it loosened around her, it felt, again, as if she was . . . giving herself to him, freely, willingly, without apprehension, for the first real time. He eased back just enough to pull the bra away and peer down on her. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, and—damn—his voice actually trembled a little.

  That’s when their eyes met. She’d heard it, too, the quiver in his voice. He didn’t know why he was embarrassed exactly—he’d already been honest with her, he’d told her that he wanted something with her, he’d made no secret of how hot she got him—but ma
ybe a shaky voice showed just how much. Maybe a little too much.

  That’s how he felt—weirdly exposed, at risk, and like maybe he wanted her even more than he’d realized up until this very moment. Yet his vulnerability faded quickly when she dropped her eyes from his face to his bare chest, lifting one palm flat against it, then gliding her touch downward toward the waistband of his jeans to say, “You’re pretty damn beautiful yourself, Mr. Becker. And I want you so, so much.”

  But it wasn’t just sex. He could see in her eyes and hear in her tone, as well, that it was more. That even though she’d been trying like hell to fight this, it wasn’t only the physical part she’d been fighting; she’d been battling the bigger part, too—the relationship part. And now he sensed that she was giving in, starting to believe in him, finally starting to believe it was safe to let this thing between them happen.

  Adam sucked in his breath, then lowered his body over hers—and his mouth back over hers, too. He kissed her deep and thorough, first taking her face in his hands, but then letting his touch drift south to caress all those sensuous curves below. Sometimes it was still hard to believe this was Sue Ann, the Sue Ann he’d been around for years without ever a real sexual thought—you just didn’t let yourself go there with your best friend’s girl—but slowly, he was starting to get used to the idea. This was Sue Ann, and she’d been walking around this town his whole life with this beautiful, responsive body hidden beneath her clothes, and now, for tonight anyway, it was his.

  The thought inspired him back to kissing her all over again—since he’d kind of stopped his own progress before with the whole trembling voice incident. But within seconds, her soft, round breasts were in his grasp and he was kissing and licking them with passionate abandon. He twirled his tongue around one turgid nipple, making her moan, and lifted his gaze to see her leaning her head back, eyes shut, body stretched out in pure oblivion. Oh yeah.

  And as much as he hated to leave her perfect breasts behind, soon he found himself kissing his way farther down, back over her smooth stomach dotted with just a few freckles, and onto the little rise of flesh below her belly button that led to her panties.