Holiday Intercepted

by Katana Collins

  He glanced between the Airbnb map in his hand and my smirking face. I couldn’t help it. The moment was too priceless. “Son of a bitch,” he murmured. “You’re P. Doglover?” he asked, reading my avatar name. I knew it was a bit antiquated, not wanting to have my legal name as the property owner, but when I first started my little Airbnb business, I wasn’t sure how safe it would be. The Craigslist Killer had been a thing just a few years earlier, so I chose to disguise my identity, just in case.

  He held up my avatar picture, an image of my dog, Maisey. “Please tell me this dog is yours.”

  From the other side of my front door, there was a deep bark and the sound of nails scratching at the frame. I grinned. “She’s mine. She’s a handful, but she’s my handful and I love her.” I shivered and pushed the door open. “Enough chatting out here in the freezing cold. Come on in.”

  Immediately, I was greeted by Maisey, jumping onto her hind legs to kiss my cheek. Until she saw Taylor—then I might as well be chopped liver. No, wait. She loves chopped liver. I might as well be a kale salad to her.

  She charged Taylor, circling his feet and jumping up on her hind legs in greeting.

  “Maisey down. Off!” My scolding did nothing. She continued prancing around our feet until finally she charged into the snow and did her business out in the yard.

  Taylor looked flustered. “Is she okay out there? Will she run away?”

  “She never runs away. She’ll come bounding back in in a minute when she gets too cold. Only this time, she’ll get snowy paw prints all over your cashmere sweater.”

  His lips turned up into a smile briefly, but he regarded me with dark, dilated eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? That this was your place?”

  He dropped the duffle bag to the floor and took a few steps in my direction.

  I shrugged and moved to the doorway, whistling out into the silent, snowy night for Maisey to come home while kicking off my boots. “It’s dangerous out right now. I was afraid that if you knew it was my Airbnb, you would try to drive somewhere else.”

  I heard the rustle of Maisey running back and then in a blur of yellow fur, she bounded inside, charging once more for Taylor.

  “Sorry.” I rolled my eyes and after shutting the door behind her, tugged on her collar. “She’s not exactly the most well-trained dog.”

  “Nah, she’s sweet,” Taylor said, petting her and leaned down, offering his cheek for the receiving end of some slobbery kisses. “And you were probably right. I was pissed back there and not thinking all that clearly.” He sighed and looked around. “I’m glad I’m not staying back there, though. Too many familiar faces. Too many memories.”

  I nodded, knowing how he felt. I lived that every day.

  “And here… we’ll have privacy.” His voice deepened into a low, sexy rasp and his gaze swept over my body in a way that had me clenching between my legs.

  “Well, why don’t I show you to your part of the house.” I cleared my throat and walked down the hall. God, I was nervous. Why was I so nervous? He had made it pretty clear back at the inn that he wanted to spend the night with me. But… was that all I wanted? There was nothing wrong with that, of course. And I couldn’t exactly expect Taylor Williams to fall madly in love with me and settle down in the town he despised. But you could move to Boston… a little voice inside of me said.

  I pushed it away. We shared one kiss. One kiss and I was already making plans to move in with the man? That sort of thinking gave women a bad name. “You actually have your own entrance, but for tonight, I thought it’d be easier to come in the front. I didn’t have time to stock your fridge with anything, since, obviously you just booked it. But usually I fill the fridge with half and half, yogurt, eggs, that sort of thing. I can get some for you in the morning.” I unlocked a side door and opened it into the small studio style apartment off the side of my cottage and held the door open as he entered, circling the space: the small kitchenette and the large bathroom that was wheelchair accessible, if needed.

  “It’s nice,” he said. Then his eyes fell on the stripped bed. “So, uh… sheets?”

  Crap. I hadn’t even thought to make up the bed. The dirty sheets were literally in a hamper next to my washer dryer from my previous tenant. I closed my eyes. “Crap on a cracker,” I whispered. “I-um-I might have an extra set of clean sheets in my bedroom.”

  I rushed out of the guest house and bounded upstairs to my lofted room and threw open my linen closet, Maisey following at my heels like we were playing the world’s best midnight game. “Maisey, no. Out!”

  Even though I sometimes let her sleep in my bed with me, I did not need her getting fur all over whatever clean sheets I had left.

  Maisey barely registered I had scolded her and instead, she went running out of the room and back downstairs.

  Please, God, please let me have some clean sheets for him. Then again, did it even matter? Back at the inn, he had suggested… no, more than suggested, that we would spend the night together. My eyes slid to my own bed, still rumpled from last night’s sleep.

  “Paige,” his deep voice rumbled behind me and I felt it in the very deepest part of my bones, shivering with the intensity it brought.

  “Um, I’m sure I have an extra set,” I said in a rush. Maybe he changed his mind and didn’t want to sleep together now? Or maybe after, he preferred to go back to his section of the Airbnb for some solo sleep? Oh, god. I was overthinking this.

  What sort of idiot bed and breakfast owner doesn’t keep extra sheets on hand? Well, to be honest, I do keep them on hand. But it’s off season and the day before Christmas Eve. I didn’t expect to have any tenants until after the New Year and I hadn’t done laundry in a while. The extra sheets were the ones I had slept in last night on my own dang bed right now.

  “Paige,” he said again, this time firmer.

  “If not, I’ll throw them in the wash right now and in an hour, I’ll have it ready for you. I can make us hot chocolate while you wait, even though I know it’s late—”

  I froze as his hot breath hit the back of my neck and sent goosebumps racing down my flesh. “Or, um… tea?” I squeaked. “I could make tea.”

  His hand fell to my hip, fingers digging against the leather of my skirt and I whimpered a pitiful sound. Inside, a deep-seeded desire—no, need—for Taylor awakened, and it was taking every ounce of strength I had not to give in. The hard wall of his chest pressed against my back. Why am I resisting this? I want him. He’s here. Flesh and blood and… flesh. I gulped. So much flesh. Muscular flesh. My eyes fluttered closed and I let my head fall back against his chest.

  Warm tingles skittered down my spine and I felt my pulse in every part of my body. At the base of my throat, between my legs, even in the swell of my breasts with each heavy breath I took.

  I spun around, turning to face him and his dense lashes lifted, revealing blue eyes so alive with energy that I felt that gaze spiral down my body into the pit of my stomach.

  A sudden need to kiss him bulldozed through my chest as his gaze roamed lazily down my body. He curled his fingers tighter around my hips and my body responded in kind, my nipples tightening against the coarse lace of my bra.

  I dipped my hand under his shirt and his muscles went immediately taut as he let loose a hiss. “Cold hands,” he whispered with a chuckle. Moving swiftly, he shifted his hands to the back of my neck, gripping me and pulling my mouth to his in a bruising kiss.

  I didn’t think our kisses could get much better. Back in high school, I thought that was the height of passion. And I had been right up until twenty minutes ago back at the inn when he kissed me again. But now, I was realizing, it wasn’t the kiss or the circumstance. It was Taylor. Every kiss with him was like this. Breath stealing, heart pumping, leave me panting kind of kisses. And god, I didn’t know if I could go back to kissing anyone else now.

  It wasn’t that I was inexperienced. I had kissed other men. I’ve gone to bed with other men. It had just never been this passionate. B
efore Taylor, kissing was a habitual thing. It was mechanical. Mouths go here. They move around. A tongue slips in. But with Taylor? It was an art form. Unpredictable. He kissed me like his next breath depended on our lips meeting.

  He backed me toward the bed as I scooped his shirt up and over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Cashmere be damned. He did the same to my shirt and sweater vest, tugging it free and over my head, leaving me panting with the backs of my knees pressed against the edge of the bed.

  He peppered my jaw with kisses and left a trail of nibbles and licks down to my breasts, biting my nipple through the lace. I gasped, reaching behind my back and unzipped my skirt. It fell to the floor nearly silent as Taylor stepped back and admired me.

  “Fuck,” he said, devouring me with his hungry gaze. He pushed me gently back on the bed and lowered to his knees in front of me, peeling the nylons from my legs and spreading my thighs apart.

  His hot breath slid over my skin and I writhed beneath him, waiting in agony. “You’re gorgeous, Paige. I’ve wanted you for years. Thought about you nonstop since high school. I dreamed of having you spread for me, just like this.”

  Then what are you waiting for, I wanted to scream. But I didn’t. Instead, a trembled breath escaped my lips as he pressed a gentle kiss between my legs. A desperate sound tore from my throat as he sampled me, licking in a long, soft stroke, his tongue sweeping over my clit like hot silk.

  I dove my hands into his wavy, messy hair, gripping him against me. Writhing beneath his mouth as he sped up his movements and slid a finger between my wet, waxed folds. “You’re soaked,” he said, hoarsely, his breath escaping in shallow, erratic pants.

  I nod and tugged at him. I wanted his lips on mine. His hard body pressing mine against the soft mattress. He got the hint immediately. With a quick flick of his fingers and push of his hands, his pants were off.

  Quivers raced down my belly and my core tightened at the sight of him, gloriously naked before me. His erection was long and hard, and my mouth watered at the sight of it pulsing toward me. We were suspended in time, our eyes locked briefly before we each shifted our gaze, scouring each other in mutual admiration. I arched my back, flicking the hooks of my bra and letting the sheer scrap of lace scrape down my shoulders.

  My nipples became impossibly harder as they met the cool air of my bedroom and every nerve ending from my neck down sparked from burning embers of desire to a full-on inferno. And just like a wildfire, we were out of control, beyond the point of stopping or tamping down those flames.

  He lunged for me, laying his body on top of mine. The hard underside of his cock nestled into my wet folds, thrusting up, he ran his length against my clit. I shuddered, my body so ready. He touched his lips to mine, groaning in ecstasy.

  Reaching down, I took hold of him and stroked the thick shape of his cock, circling my thumb over his swollen tip.

  “You make me crazy,” he whispered before nipping at my ear and reaching between my legs, working my clit in gloriously soft, rhythmic circles. “I’ve thought about you so many times since high school. I’ve wondered what it would be like to have you. To touch you. To kiss you.” His voice was strained, tighter than usual and lacking its normal cool, collectedness. I hardly had time to notice though. I was lost in his touch, in his frenzied kisses, in the heat of his hard body pressing against mine. Our breath fell into a syncopated rapid rhythm and my body flexed, lower back arching off the bed as I grinded into his hand and he thrusted into mine in return.

  It had been long—too long—and I had nearly forgotten what it felt like to be taken. The incredible feeling of being ravished and cherished all at once. But never in my life had it felt this exquisite.

  “I need you inside of me,” I heard myself say.

  “Condom,” he murmured. “We need a condo—”

  “Second drawer in my nightstand.”

  He sat up, reaching back, and in record time, he had the condom rolled onto his cock, fisting himself at my entrance.

  I tried to swallow, but it stuck halfway down in my throat as he looked deep into my eyes and asked, “You ready?”

  I clutched at his shoulders, quivering, nodding. “God, yes.”

  Pinning me with his eyes, he thrusted inside of me and we gasped in unison. He filled me, stretched me, and buried himself inside me as his head fell between his shoulders, his breath labored.

  I started to move below him, and his fingers tightened and threaded in mine. “Fuck, Paige, wait. Give me a second here.”

  I couldn’t help the smirk that turned my lips. I loved having this power over him. I didn’t want him to come just yet either, but I felt like a goddess laying there beneath him with all the power. One little pulse of my hips had him stiffening, begging.

  “It’s been a while,” he gave me a sheepish grin and even in the lusty moment, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

  “Yeah, okay. Like I’m going to believe that you aren’t getting laid by women at every game.”

  “Hit on at every game? Yes. Laid… no.” He took a deep breath and with a slow blink, he began moving inside of me. Holy. Crap. Stars blurred my vision as he pumped his hips in long, slow strokes that hit the bundle of nerves deep inside me.

  “Look at me, Paige,” he demanded and my eyes flew open, landing on his. I felt hot and flushed under that icy blue stare of his.

  He sped up his pace, hammering into me and I cried out, feeling my release clawing at my core. He slid his hand down between us, those skilled fingers pressing against my clit and that was it. I was done for.

  My heart slammed in my ribs, my lungs burning as I cried out in pleasure. Fireworks ignited in my core, shimmering down my body in pleasure so explosive, it left my legs shaking and my spine stiff. I felt somehow both broken into a million pieces, yet also healed and put back together again as I sighed.

  “Fuck, that was sexy, Paige. Do you know how ridiculously sexy you are?” He grunted, dropping his face to my neck and nipping the tender skin there as his thrusts lost their rhythm, becoming more erratic and deep inside me.

  I reached down, taking a handful of his firm ass and pulling him deeper inside of me. That’s all it took for him to lose control. “Paige,” he grunted, grinding against me and thrusting into his release. As he came, he dropped his forehead to mine, his nose brushing against mine in a motion so tender, that that action alone managed to be more intimate than the sex we’d just shared.

  I unwound myself from beneath him and pulled at the sheet to cover myself. Taylor caught my hand gently, tugging the sheet from my grip. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

  I smiled. Some of it was modesty. But I was also chilly. “I’m a little cold.”

  He grabbed the corner of my blanket and rolling onto his side, pulled it around both of us.

  “What did you mean when you said you get hit on at games, but not laid?”

  He rolled his eyes playfully at me. “What do you think it means? It means I don’t get laid at games.”

  “I know that… but why?”

  His eyebrows jumped, disappearing behind the unruly hair flopping onto his forehead. “Would you rather me accept their advances?” he teased.

  Oh, boy. We were entering uncharted territory here. I didn’t know logistically how we could make this work, us as a couple, or even if he would want to. I swallowed hard because I knew deep in my gut that I did. It’s what I had always wanted—back when we were seniors in high school. And even now. “No,” I said carefully, “I’m just surprised. I mean, you’re single—”

  “Am I?”

  I smacked his arm. “You better be with what we just did! I swear to god, Taylor Wilson, if you are married—”

  He grabbed at my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles, his face suddenly very serious. “I’m not married, Paige. I’m a lot of things, but never a cheater.”

  My throat burned. Of course. How insensitive could I be? “Of course. I’m sorry, Ta—”

  “What I meant
was… am I still single now?”

  Heat stirred in my chest and energy pulsed into my belly. What was he implying? That he wanted to date? To be something more than two people who went to high school together and had amazing chemistry that they finally acted upon? “Do you want to be single still?”

  I held my breath, awaiting his answer as he paused. “I thought I did,” he said, his voice quiet and raspy. “I haven’t had a relationship in years. If you don’t commit to anyone, then they can’t betray your trust.” He faded off and I fisted the sheet around me tighter in my grip. “It’s how I operated always.” He blinked slowly, his mouth twitching. “But now…”

  “Now?” I prodded.

  “Now… I’m not so sure. You’re incredible Paige. Never in a million years did I expect to be here in bed with you. Now that I am? I don’t think I’m ready to walk away.”

  My heart kicked in my chest and began beating rapidly causing the blood to roar in my head. “Wow. Taylor, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Do you like me, too?”

  I nodded, unable to find the words to express how much I liked him, that I walked by his picture every day in the high school and wished I had been braver when we were teenagers. That at night, it was his eyes I dreamed of, his lips I remembered. Instead, I simply answered, “Yes. I like you. I always liked you.”

  He nodded, thoughtfully. “Good. Then let’s start there and see where this goes, yeah?” I swear my heart skipped a beat when he flashed his pearly white grin at me. “And to answer your earlier question, there’s a number of reasons I don’t sleep with fans. First of all, I play better when I don’t. Secondly, there’s a lot of bad shit that can happen in doing that. Remember that chick who Instagrammed a picture of herself with our quarterback after the Super Bowl? I don’t want that happening to me.”

  “That’s terrible,” I whispered.

  He grunted. “You have no idea.” His eyes drifted toward the clock on the wall behind me. I followed his gaze where the clock read a few minutes after midnight.

  “It’s Christmas Eve,” he whispered and it felt like he was telling himself this fact, not me. He was silent for a moment, his eyes creased like he was deep in thought.