by Megan Wade
I grin, loving she’s close to her kin. “What about your mom?”
She smiles, and her eyes brighten, and I feel an odd feeling wash over me and settle in my gut. “Mom’s a teacher at the local high school. She teaches English Lit. Gosh, it was mortifying walking into class on my first day of high school to have Mom wave at me from the front of the class. She’s a goof. The kids in her class adore her. She gets into trouble with the Principal because she has the kids learn lyrics to Beatles songs. She always told us that songs are the purest form of poetry because you get to sing them.”
“You sound happy when you talk about them,” I remark.
She shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “Like I said, we’re close. Growing up, it was just Mom, Dad, and me at home, until Gran moved in with us a couple of years ago. Don’t get me started on her. She’s Mom’s mom, and she’s a terror. Dad has to threaten to lock her up now and then just to keep her in line.” She laughs, and that feeling in my gut solidifies as I watch her. I need to make her mine.
Our ciders are placed in front of us, and we’re told the pies won’t be too long.
“What about you?” she asks. “Can I ask what you do when you aren’t picking up lonely girls in awful diners?”
“I don’t pick up girls in diners, Sophia. You were my first,” I reply, watching as her face turns an endearing pink. I can’t help myself as I reach over and slowly trace the curve of her cheek before I lace our fingers together.
“That’s, ah…good to know.” Her words come out all breathy as she looks at our joined hands, then takes a big gulp of her drink. “You were telling me about what you do for a living,” she gasps once she’s drained her glass halfway. She’s completely adorable, and she has no idea what her innocence is doing to me.
“I own a medical equipment company called Phase. You might have heard of it. It’s been in the news a lot because of a laser treatment we developed that cuts the cost of tattoo removal in half.”
Phase is my baby. I started it fresh out of college and over the last fifteen years, I’ve built it up from scratch into the multi-million dollar company it is today. I look to see if this information changes her behavior toward me. People either get very nervous or go out of their way to get on my good side once they find out about Phase, but all she does is shake her head.
“I’m afraid I haven’t,” she says apologetically. “I don’t know much about the medical industry, and I never watch the news.” She suddenly flashes a grin at me. “You don’t look like someone who makes medical equipment. I’d expect glasses and a lanky build—lab coat. But you’re very...big.” She lets out an embarrassed laugh. “Oh, my gosh. Ignore me. I think this cider is going to my head.”
“It’s OK. And I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Oh, it is! You must know how beautiful you are.” She self-consciously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, lifting her glass to her lips and draining the last of it.
I watch her bemusedly. This beautiful goddess who doesn’t know she can bring men to their knees just by breathing thinks I’m beautiful. If I didn’t know it before, I know it now. She’s mine. She’s going to be mine for a good long time if I have anything to do about it.
“You’re beautiful.” I correct. “You’re so beautiful you make me ache, hard, in all the right places, Sophia.”
She places her empty glass on the bar, wiping the back of her hand across her cherry lips as she looks at me in astonishment. Fuck. I want to eat those lips of hers…
It’s in that moment that the waitress brings our food. “Can I get another cider?” Sophia asks hurriedly, and I can’t help but chuckle to myself at her obvious nerves.
“One for me too,” I say, finishing mine off and handing over the glass—my father said a woman should never drink alone.
“You know. I really wanted a fruit pie. But this beef pie looks and smells amazing,” she says, picking up her knife and fork.
“Tastes amazing too. The chef that sets the menu here works at that fancy restaurant, Hunt & Gather, a few blocks over. His family owns this place. It’s been the place to grab a good meal for a decent price for the last year now.”
“I’ll have to come here more often,” she says, holding a forkful of flakey pastry and stewed meat up to her lips as she blows. I watch her delicate movements, entranced by the shape of her mouth and the way she holds her hair off her face. Then she places the fork in her mouth, and I’m almost salivating with desire. The look of pure ecstasy on her face as the flavor explodes over her tongue is erection inducing.
“Good?” I ask, adjusting myself in my seat so she can’t see what I’m packing.
“Amazing.”
Our second round of ciders is placed in front of us, and I thank the server as I pick up my cutlery and dig in. As we talk and eat, I find the conversation with her is easy, entertaining, and downright fun. After her initial shyness, she slowly comes out of her shell and I find that she’s not just beautiful, but has a quick mind and a witty tongue. I hardly remember the last time I laughed this much.
“And then she just pulled her teeth from her mouth and dropped them in a glass of Chardonnay in the middle of the restaurant,” she explains, covering her mouth as she giggles over the story of her grandmother’s antics. “And what makes it worse is that the Chardonnay wasn’t even hers. It was my cousin’s.”
My shoulders shake from laughter. “She sounds like a hoot.”
“Well, that’s one thing to call her,” she says, lifting her glass to lips and drinking the final mouthful of her cider. “You know, I’m really glad you suggested this place.”
I pick up and napkin and wipe it across my mouth and down my beard as I lift my brows at her. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I was feeling pretty miserable about the holiday, but you really helped to brighten it up. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” I say, taking my wallet out of my pocket and peeling a couple of notes off as the barman calls last drinks.
“Oh, you should let me pay half,” she suggests, reaching for her bag.
I place my hand over hers to stop her. “Consider it an early Christmas gift. My treat.”
Her cheeks brighten yet again as she lifts her eyes to meet mine. “Thank you, Jackson. I really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure,” I say, standing up and holding her coat out for her. “Can I walk you home?”
She smiles up at me. “I’d really like that.”
I wrap my scarf around her neck again, then gesture toward the door, wishing the waitress who collects our plates and the bill a Merry Christmas on our way out.
“Oh, my lord!” Sophia holds her hand up as a gust of wind sends her hair flying, and the biting sting of snow carried on whipping winds lashes against our faces.
“Do you live nearby?” I ask, sliding an arm around her and pulling her tighter against me.
“Not near enough to walk in this weather, I’m afraid. Maybe I can get a cab?”
“On Christmas Eve? I live one street over. Come home with me, and you can wait out the storm there.” I don’t know if she can tell how much I like saying those words to her. Come home with me.
“I don’t know. I don’t want you to think I’m the kind of girl who goes back to a guy’s place on the first date,” she whispers, her eyes not quite meeting mine.
“This was a date, then?” I grin and slowly lean forward till my lips touch the side of her temple. She shudders. But it isn’t from the cold.
“I…um…” She looks flustered, and immediately I feel bad for teasing her.
“Sugar, I’m only teasing. Of course this was a date. Our first date. The first of many, I hope. But, I want you to listen to me closely now, OK?”
She nods, and I move her so she’s standing in the circle of my arms, our fronts pressed together.
“I want you. Biblically. I’m not gonna lie about that. But I promise you, we won’t do anything tonight that you don’t want to do. I can wait until next Christmas, if that�
�s how long it takes for you to be ready. But with the way this storm is worsening, I don’t think it’s safe for either of us to be out here much longer. So, if you can put your trust in me enough to come home with me, we can both be safe and warm in no time. Besides, we’re both without our families on Christmas Eve, and there’s no one I want to spend this Christmas with more than you.”
This Christmas and every other Christmas from now, I silently promise.
She looks up at me for a minute before she nods, her curls bouncing slightly. “I trust you, Jackson,” she says before she looks up shyly at my face, lowering her voice so it’s barely a whisper. “And there’s no one I want to spend Christmas with more than you, either. I don’t want this evening to end, ever.” She presses her lips together as she searches my eyes like she’s hoping to God she’s not freaking me out right now. And she isn’t. In fact, my smile couldn’t be wider right now. This girl is mine.
And I think I might just keep her…
SOPHIA
F eeling cold to my bones, Jackson ushers me into his heated apartment and takes my coat and bag before he stores it in the entry closet. “Let me get a fire going and something warm to drink,” he says when he notices me rubbing my arms through my sweater, and looking around his rather large living space.
“That sounds like heaven.” Taking my hand, he leads me further into the penthouse. Yes, a penthouse. He lives in one of those fancy high-rises with a doorman and a security desk. But what I’m most surprised about is how tastefully his apartment is furnished. It looks…homey. But in the nicest possible way.
“This doesn’t look much like a bachelor pad,” I comment, looking at the warm wooden floors and the soft colored furniture. “I expected a white-black-beige color scheme. You have great taste, Jackson.” I love how his name feels in my mouth.
He chuckles, walking ahead of me and flipping on a few lights so I can take a better look before he picks up a remote and aims it at the mantel, the flames of a gas fire bursting instantly to life.
“Wow,” I breathe as I move to stand by the floor to ceiling windows across the living room that look out into the snowy night. “I feel like I’m inside a snow globe. Look at this view.”
“I knew the minute I walked in and saw the city from these windows that I had to buy this place.”
I hear his footsteps behind me, and a moment later, I feel his heat against my back as he wraps a soft blanket around me for warmth. Every nerve in my body tingles in anticipation, wondering what will come next. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long before he sweeps my hair away from my neck and bends to place a kiss against my neck.
“Jackson.” I breathe, shivering at the feel of his beard scraping against my delicate flesh.
“Is this OK? I just want to hold you, sugar. You have no idea how much I like having you here in my house, just you and me.” I feel his hot breath tickle my chin.
“It’s more than OK,” I manage to get out, feeling so turned on by him that I’d likely let him take me up against these windows for all the city to see. But I manage to keep my libido in check, and instead, relax against his chest as we stand there looking at the view.
“It was my sisters-in-law,” he says after a while, and I have to force myself to shake out of the warm haze I am in.
“Your what?” I crane my head back so I’m meeting his eyes.
“My sisters-in-law,” he repeats. “They decorated the place, not me.”
“Oh! They did?”
“Yes, all three of them. I told them they could go nuts as long as it didn’t look like an old granny lived here, and they took up the challenge. Created a WhatsApp group, swatch charts and everything to coordinate the entire effort. They’re also responsible for that.” He points to a Christmas tree and a small stack of present under it. “I normally don’t bother putting one up at home because I don’t spend a huge amount of time out of the office. But they thought it was tragic not to decorate for the holidays, so they helped me out.”
I turn slightly to look at him better. “You have three sisters-in-law?”
“Wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t come with three brothers.” I feel his hard body rumble as he laughs. It makes me smile.
“I always wanted a brother. Or a sister. I asked Santa a million times over the years, but…seems he and the stalk don’t have an open line of communication.”
He chuckles at my joke before he releases me, then tugs me toward the opposite wall. “This is them,” he says, indicating the dozens of framed photos depicting his family during happy times. There’re his brothers’ weddings, camping trips, family gatherings, and I see his sister on her graduation. In each image, the faces of a large and beautiful family smile back at me from within the frames. I sigh wistfully.
“Oh, I love this, Jackson. You have such a big and beautiful family,” I whisper, my eyes drinking in all the toothy grins of his nieces and nephews—a few of the photos taken over the holidays around the tree. “Christmas morning must have been the best.”
“It was. Still is for the most part. I generally get to my parents early so I can help them prepare for the onslaught of the grandkids. They have more energy than all of us put together.” He smiles wistfully. “What do you do back home?”
“Oh, we’re pretty traditional. Presents in the morning. Lots of food. Last year, Gran gave me a copy of Amy Schumer’s book because she thought that if I was going to make it in life as a ‘big girl’—her words—I should learn from someone who uses it to her advantage.” I laugh softly, remembering how I’d been offended at first, but then I ended up really loving that book. It was one of the reasons why I decided to move to the city to pursue a career in design—get out of my designated box, so to speak.
“Your gran did that on Christmas?” His brows shoot up, and I wave his concern away.
“She wasn’t trying to be nasty. She’s just very blunt. And I did enjoy the book, so…” I shrug.
“Well,” he says, sliding his hands around my sides. “I happen to think you’re an absolutely perfect girl.” He presses his fingers into my flesh and pulls me flush against him. My hands land against his chest and I look up at his darkening eyes. “And just the right size for a guy like me.”
“You really think so?” I ask, swallowing hard as my eyes drop to his full lips and my tongue snakes out to wet mine.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he growls, lowering his head until his lips crash with mine. My first kiss.
JACKSON
I kiss her with an urgency that startles me, and every nerve in my body burns as I finally, finally, taste her sweet lips. She tastes like sugar.
It only takes her a second before she melts against my body and I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer. As my mouth moves against hers, my tongue tasting and teasing, I reach between us to where her hands are pressed against my chest and drag them up, pulling them over my shoulders. She needs no further encouragement and instantly wraps an arm around my neck.
I groan into her mouth, feeling her other hand sliding into my hair, her fingers fisting.
“Mmm.” She presses in closer, and feeling her generous, round breasts against my chest, only a couple of layers of clothing between us, has my blood burning with need. I can hardly wait to peel away every stitch of clothing from her body, pull them over her luscious curves until she is wearing nothing but a blush and a sated look on her face.
I turn us around, my mouth hot and demanding on hers, and walk backward till I feel the wall against my back. Wordlessly, she follows and allows her entire body to sink into mine, settling into me. I drag my hands down to cup her butt, something I’ve been dying to do since the moment I saw her walk in front of me, and instantly, she whimpers.
“So sweet,” I murmur. I love the feel of her mouth moving against mine, her velvety tongue trying to keep up as I taste every bit of her sweetness, swallowing her little gasps and moans and utterly devour her.
When we finally break apart, Sophia’s head is tilted b
ack, her eyes closed and her mouth plump and pink. She looks happily ravished, and as she slowly opens her eyes, I feel my arousal throb at the glazed look of pleasure in them.
“Jackson.” Her voice comes out in a sexy, throaty whisper as she traces a finger against her swollen lips. “That’s the first time anyone’s ever kissed me…” She trails off, absently reaching up to trace the same finger over my lips. What did she just say?
I still, and suddenly every nerve, every cell, and every possessive instinct in my body is screaming at me to sweep her up, to hold her, to never let her go.
She’s never been kissed.
Those words sink into my soul, along with the realization of just how precious, how innocent, and how untouched the woman I hold in my arms actually is.
“Sophia,” I groan as I bury my face in her hair. “You’re killing me.”’
“I am?” she asks, hesitation coating her words as her body tenses.
“In a good way,” I whisper, and I pepper tiny kisses along her pulse line. She moans. Then I finally pull away to look at her.
To think that she’s never been with another man—or even kissed another man—nearly brings me to my knees. She’s special with a capital S, and her first time needs to be special as well. She deserves to be made love to, to be held, to be so aroused that when she finally takes me within her, she won’t feel any pain.
She deserves the world.
“Jackson?” Her voice pulls me back, and I look down and see her worried eyes gazing up at me as her teeth press into her already swollen lip. “Is everything OK?”
My brow knits, and I immediately lift a hand to run my thumb along the softness of her jaw. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You were miles away, just then,” she explains, her eyes searching my face. “Did I…that kiss…did I do something wrong?
