A Novel Christmas

by Lynsey M. Stewart

  Chapter 21

  Drew

  God, she was beautiful even when she was mad.

  Breathtaking.

  I wanted to heal her. Protect her. Love her.

  ‘Cal…’

  I thought through what I was going to say next, how it caused fear, raised my anxieties. I wanted to tell her she looked beautiful bathed in the sliver of moonlight, how her presence lit up the faded skies of ocean fog like a flashlight, a beam of brilliance and wonder. I wanted to say that I was finding it harder, almost impossible, to keep away from her, to protect myself from falling again. That she was making me question my allegiance to living a life without love, taking me down the corridors and alleys of questioning my decision to stay away from romantic relationships because the chance of heartbreak was too great.

  Watching her slip her lip under her teeth to stop the emotion she was battling with almost killed me. I wanted her more than my own protection. I needed her more.

  ‘I adore you.’

  And there it was. A vision. A lightning bolt. A bombshell. A moment of clarity mixed in the rough. Protection be damned. I didn’t want to leave her alone anymore. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to lose her or think about anything other than this moment, including what would happen the morning after in the cold light of day, not even what would happen a few weeks from now.

  I wanted to fucking ravish her.

  I sprang forward, catching the back of her head in my hands and launching a kiss so strong she stepped backwards, holding herself steady with her hands against my chest, feeling my heartbeat as I finally gave into the moment that I’d been thinking about since the day we met, the moment I’d imagined since reading her books. She moaned against my lips, our kisses frantic, open-mouthed, intense, making the world bleary, my doubts fade away. We parted briefly, taking the time to watch our faces, our reactions, taking in the reality that we were here and really doing this. I nodded against her skin. Are you OK with this? Despite knowing that I still wasn’t sure what I could give her, how much of my heart I could risk. That I was wary. That I could fuck us up.

  ‘Please. Just do it,’ she gasped, a little overwhelmed. The desire too great it was almost painful. ‘Just do it.’ A breathless moan that was music to my ears. ‘Please.’ I pressed her against the wall, enjoying the sound it jolted from her mouth, raw and breathless. Thud, smack. The illicit sound of weeks of tension finally set free. I had her pinned there, caged by my body, but she was the one leading the way.

  I helped her take off her coat, frantic and frenzied, throwing her scarf and hat into the living room, smiling in a daze as I straightened her hair, pushing it behind her ears, kissing her neck, taking care of her before the onslaught, loving her because I knew there wouldn’t be time during. This was going to be fast and hectic. Wild and passionate. Desire. Longing. The release of bundles of feelings that generated from what could only be described as a fucking craving.

  I pushed her sweater up, savoring the swell of her breasts for not nearly long enough, pushing her bra down with my fingers, turning her around, her tits pressed against the wall as I kissed down her bare back, the expanse of skin so perfect, so beautiful I couldn’t keep my mouth away. I trailed my tongue down, kissed, nipped, teased, knelt to the floor in worship and wrapped my arms around her entirely, pulling her to me, gasping as she said my name. She reached down to unbutton her jeans, pushing her firm ass into my face and fuck, I wanted to taste her there. I paused for a second, surprised at my fascination, thrilled that I wasn’t holding back as I suckled her skin. I hooked my thumbs into her underwear, inching them down and revealing her to me. I pushed her over, my hand flat against her back, pulling her hips to my mouth, almost yelping as she parted her legs, flattening my tongue against the sensitive skin and licked.

  ‘Drew! Jesus!’ she said, slapping her hand against the wall, steadying herself.

  ‘I’ve got you,’ I said against her thigh, my hands tracing circles across her hip, pausing, watching…adoring. ‘I won’t let you go.’ I stood up to meet her, my hands pulling Cal towards me. ‘Do you feel that?’ I said, pressing my erection against her. ‘I’m the opposite of you, Cal. I don’t always know the words to tell you what I’m feeling, how I adore you, but that.’ I pushed harder. ‘Should make you feel fucking idolised.’

  ‘Drew?’ she said against the wall, her voice tight and straining, swarming my body and making me whole.

  ‘Fuck me like you mean it.’

  We fell into deep panting, breathless moans and intense touches. I turned her to me, kissing her mouth, smiling against her lips as she unbuttoned my jeans, pulling the fabric apart, squeezing the denim into her hands. As her head fell back, she let me kiss her stomach, the sharp bone of her hip and finally her pussy, warm and wet. I pushed my boxers down, freeing my aching cock, taking it in my hand, stroking, circling the wetness with my thumb, priming me until I positioned my tip to her and…thrust.

  We cried out together, the feeling overwhelming us, overwhelming me. Her tightness, knowing she was wet and ready, understanding that this was something we both needed, the ever-present ache too much to bear. Cal wrapped her leg around my hip and I hooked my arm underneath it, pulling her wider, changing the position, reaching for the sensitive places inside that would unravel her, make her mine, if just for tonight. I started thrusting slowly, Cal’s breath hitching from her throat, her lips parted, her eyes on mine. I went harder, increasing the pace from slow and soft to fast and chasing. My fingers gripped her skin, marking her, making her belong to me, allowing us to be one continuous flow as we rocked together, our bodies conjoined, the pleasure travelling through us.

  She kissed my chest—in all of the chaos—she kissed my chest. How could something so small cause such a commotion inside me?

  ‘Tonight, I’m yours,’ she said. ‘Do what you want with me.’

  I thrust harder, enjoying her words, letting them soak into me. It had been so long, too long since I had been adored in this way. Had I ever been loved like this? Cal looked at me like I represented everything that was good in her life, all the memories that made her smile, the conversations that stayed with her, meant something, were all wrapped up in me. It scared me just as it excited me.

  Don’t think, just feel.

  ‘I’ve waited so long to fuck you,’ I said, truth and desperation in my words. ‘Mine,’ I said on a ragged breath, the pace increasing.

  ‘Yours,’ she nodded, agreeing, confirming. Reassuring.

  I felt like the king of the world. An avalanche of feelings cascaded over me and as Cal pressed her hand against my neck, panted into me, moaned out her orgasm, I couldn’t contain those feelings, I needed to let them spill, overflow, fall onto the ground and roll away. I shouted out, reckless impulse weaved through my voice as I followed her, my orgasm hitting, slamming my bones, punishing me for allowing this, but my pleasure overruling as I dropped Cal down, back to the floor, her knees trembling, her eyes still closed. I slumped down, turning to rest my back against the wall, breath lost, body aching. Waiting for the fall.

  ‘You’re overthinking,’ she said. Her boobs were still pushed up, her bra underneath them; her hair tumbling, lipstick smudged.

  I’d fucked her like a beast.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll regain the ability to think,’ I replied as she giggled. She started pulling herself back together, hoicking her bra in place, pulling her sweater back up from where it had cascaded over her shoulder. I missed the curve of the blade immediately. The twinkly lights from the Christmas tree caught my attention; from where she was sitting, they were like a bright halo above her head.

  ‘You look sad,’ she said, drawing her knees up to her chest. ‘I don’t want you to be sad.’

  ‘I’m not,’ I replied, covering her beautifully small knee with my large hand.

  Dejected, possibly. You’re leaving me in two weeks.

  ‘Let’s not talk about this being a one-time encounter, never to be repeated. It’s happened. We’re both
adults. I’ve had plenty of one-night stands to know how to handle situations like this.’ Was that how she saw us? After what had just happened, I didn’t have it pinned down as a one-night-stand-unfeeling-apart-from-pleasure encounter. Had I caused her to think like that? Yes, you idiot. Fuck, she must be so confused. ‘It’s fine, honestly. Just one night was all we needed.’ She was trying to appease me, make out that this was nothing but animalistic, soaring desire, and that made me feel sick to my stomach.

  ‘You don’t want to do that again?’ I goaded, unsure of the answer I wanted because I was just as confused as her.

  ‘I mean, I wouldn’t say no. I’m sure I could get in the mood to repeat it quite swiftly.’ I chuckled at that. She was holding back. What we had just done had been majestically epic. I was pretty sure the orgasm ripped the cock from my body. I had visions of finding it on the carpet beside us. I glanced at my feet just to be sure. ‘Stop it,’ she said. ‘I can practically hear your thoughts colliding.’

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’ I replied, being completely honest. ‘I don’t want to hurt myself.’

  An orgasm had the ability to cloud thoughts. I knew mine were still assembling themselves in order and hadn’t figured out which way to go first. I locked my hand around her face, skimming the smooth skin of her neck. She sighed deeply. ‘I can’t promise you more, Cal and that fucking kills me.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, rising to her knees. She was amazing. Unfazed and dazzling. ‘If this is all you can give me, I’ll take it and say thank you very much for making me feel so wanted.’ She pressed her hand to her chest and I was desperate to tell her that I wanted her more than I could ever express, I wanted her so much it terrified me, but I had to say the words to myself before I could say them to her. My heart was uncurling. My hurt faded gradually every day. But I’d been weak. Couldn’t control myself despite knowing my thoughts were still jumbled and sharp. I looked at her beautiful face, fell into her wondrous smile, I pulled her into me, kissing her softly, stroking circles along her arms, and tried to shut out the darkness.

  Was Cal my one? Did I already know the answer but it had been swallowed by my doubts? Could she cure me of my fear of being let down, lost, unlovable?

  I wasn’t sure if my confusion was love. I’d forgotten what love felt like.

  All I knew was uncertainty, that in a couple of weeks time, when Cal would have to leave the island, the heart inside my chest that I’d pieced together from tiny particles would again be split down the middle. Everything I said I wouldn’t do—the mantra to keep away, not to fall, not to get close—would all collapse around me.

  And I’d be left alone.

  Again.

  Chapter 22

  Cal

  I was still in that blissful delirium you felt after an orgasm, and it had been three days.

  I had been writing ever since.

  Drew had fucked me like the men I read about in books. The men I write about. A romance hero. Hard and confident. Serene and sure. Glorious.

  I had concluded that sex was the answer to writer’s block. I certainly had my writing mojo back. The words had been flowing through my fingers like his cock had flowed through me. Three sex scenes had been added and I was well onto my way to smashing 60,000 words. By the time Christmas Day arrived, I was hoping to have finished the first draft and could then start editing in the comfort of my bed with a packet of biscuits and Drew between my thighs as an incentive.

  But I wasn’t sure that was going to be a reality. I hadn’t seen a lot of Drew since he staggered home, jeans still unbuttoned, his hair messy and wild, just before his face fell as he remembered we hadn’t used a condom. I reassured him across the driveway that I was on the pill and had a clean bill of health at my last gynecological appointment. He confirmed he hadn’t had sex since Meghan and we waved to each other as he shut his door.

  Not exactly how I was going to wrap up my novel.

  He left a breakfast basket outside the door the next morning with a note telling me he couldn’t stop thinking about me. But I couldn’t eat. The basket was still sitting on the kitchen worktop at lunchtime in the hope he’d come back for it. Eventually he did, and fucked me where the basket had been for most of the day. After, he read aloud the first few chapters of A Christmas Carol because we were creating our own tradition and didn’t need to wait until Christmas Eve. Naked and wrapped in a duvet in front of the wood burner, he kissed me gently before he left. The same night, we played the familiar game of no, you shut the curtains first, and I wrote another 5,000 words before I went to sleep.

  There was still something rattling through his thoughts and tormenting him. I could see that he was in a battle with himself. The idea of letting someone in was a big ask, and he was unable to hide that he was still terrified. He was a contradiction, and that scared me. Hurt and disappointment felt only a breath away.

  The writing had been my excuse for not thinking about Drew. My deadline was something I was thankful for because it gave me a focus. I had a telephone meeting scheduled with Gerry to discuss my progress. I was even considering sending him the first few chapters for feedback and just as I was about to prep for the phone call by reading through them again, Melissa popped up in a little window on my laptop.

  ‘Where have you been?’ she asked, her head on her hand.

  ‘I’ve been locked in the writing cave. I’m almost done.’ I couldn’t keep the smile off my face because the image of Drew pushing me against the wall, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me tight was replaying every time I blinked.

  She peered into the screen and pushed her thick, black-rimmed glasses to the bottom of her nose. ‘Hmm, mmm. You’ve been fucked. Fucked gooood,’ she replied. I smiled in confirmation and she fell back into her chair, clapping. ‘I need all the details, honey. Start with the first thrust. ’

  ‘Melissa, I’ve never experienced anything like it before. Not even close.’

  ‘The ex-pilot woodcutting pizza maker has skills! No wonder you’ve been writing like a demon. Sex scenes?’ she asked.

  ‘Three.’

  She laughed again. ‘Girl, fuck the scenery! You needed a different kind of inspiration.’

  ‘He’s giving it.’

  ‘Isn’t he just?’ she replied. ‘So, has he got over his love-fright? This has moved very fast.’

  ‘Not exactly. I’m trying to ignore his rabbit-in-the-headlights look. I figured taking it an hour at a time is the best thing,’ I replied. ‘Oh, before I forget. I read the chapters you sent me last night. I want to send you some feedback, but I loved it. I can’t believe you aren’t taking a break after your release.’ I was a critique partner for Melissa. She would send me chapters of her work in progress and I’d send notes back to her.

  ‘Oh, breaks are overrated,’ she replied wafting her hand. ‘I had an idea and ran with it. Sometimes that’s the best way.’

  ‘I’m about to talk to my publisher, but later today can I send you what I’ve written of my novel so far?’

  ‘Here for you, babycakes.’

  ‘Talk later.’

  No sooner had I stopped talking to Melissa and the phone rang.

  ‘Cal speaking,’ I held the phone under my chin as I opened the word document.

  ‘Cal! How are you?’ Gerry said, his booming voice filling the room.

  ‘Good. Really good.’

  ‘I got your email this morning and boy did that put a smile on my face.’

  ‘I’m making progress. I’m hoping to have the first draft finished by next week,’ I replied.

  ‘That’s great news, Cal. What did I tell you? You just needed to be inspired. I’m going to talk to Drew about having a regular contract for the cottage. The place is magic,’ he said, coughing down the phone. I held it away from my ear.

  ‘It certainly is.’ I got up to close the curtains and saw Drew with Archie. He was throwing him a ball that was almost flattened when he brought it back. ‘So much inspiration.’

  ‘Give me t
he general gist,’ he said. ‘Trope, character references, plot-twists.’ I could hear him opening drawers and rifling through papers. I tried not to let it distract me.

  ‘Well, it’s friends to lovers.’

  ‘Cute.’

  ‘He’s an ex-pilot who was jilted by his fiancé—he found her with his step-dad.’

  ‘Messy. I like it.’

  ‘He’s hurting and humiliated. He wants to hide away from the scrutiny of what happened, so he becomes a recluse living in a cabin in the mountains. He completely changes his lifestyle, cuts off all interaction with the world, social media. Everything. He has to learn how to fend for himself in the wild. Chopping trees for firewood, hunting for food, essentially learning how to live again.’

  ‘Woodcutter. Recluse. Fends for himself,’ he repeated. I could hear the scratches of his pen as he jotted it all down.

  ‘The heroine, Kari, is a journalist and has been given a project on outdoor living, a city girl feeling at one with nature. She rents a cabin and goes exploring, only to find the recluse chopping trees. Shirtless and brooding and wham! She’s knocked for six. He’s a gorgeous specimen of all things manly and hot. She wants to see his thighs. She wants to mount him against a tree. He’s having none of it. He’s been jilted. He doesn’t want his heart to break again. How could he survive? But he can’t help but be taken by the attractive blonde writer and her womanly wiles. Or something like that.’