12 Christmas Romances To Melt Your Heart (27 page)

His cheeks flush. “I only wore it because Phil said it would impress you.”

“It did.”

His face grows even redder. I lean toward him. “Are you blushing?”

“Everything about you makes me blush, Madison,” he tells me softly.

“We just met yesterday,” I whisper playfully.

“And yet I already know I’m going to marry you,” he whispers back.

“I know you will. You won’t be able to resist me.” I laugh and the corners of his lips tip up in a grin.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“You.” I stare hard at him, because I want him to know I’m serious. I know this is fresh and new, but it’s also special and I want to pursue it.

He points to his chest. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” I crook my finger at him and he tosses his pillow to the side and stands up.

I look down at the significant bulge behind his fly.

“You
really
like me, don’t you?” I ask.

“My heart likes you. My dick just wants you.”

I reach out and touch him, outlining the ridge of him with my fingertips. He flinches and draws his hips back. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to learn what’s in here—” He taps my temple with his finger. “—before I learn what’s in here.” He cups my center, holding tightly to my heat for a moment before he withdraws. My heart skips a beat and my belly clenches.

“You want to go watch a movie?” he asks. “I think Phil got Lethal Weapon III at Blockbuster.”

“Are you serious? I’ve been dying to see that.” I get to my feet.

He holds out the shorts I didn’t put on earlier. “Put some clothes on. Please.” He holds his hands together like he’s praying. “My dick won’t be able to stand it if he finds out there’s nothing but a pair of panties between him and where he wants to go.”

My belly flips like there are a thousand butterflies trying to get free. “Okay.” I take them from him.

He clutches a hand to his heart. “Oh my God. She actually did something I asked her to do!”

Then he runs out of the room and to the living room, and starts messing with the VCR. The movie starts and he motions for me to sit down next to him. I don’t, though. I pat my lap so he’ll lay his head down, and then I thread my fingers into his hair. He tenses immediately.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“No one has ever done that before,” he says quietly. He rolls to face the TV so I can’t see his face.

“I’m going to do it all the time,” I promise. And I mean it. I’m going to do it every time I’m with him. He deserves to have someone show him how wonderful he is.

I can tell when he goes to sleep. He gets soft in my lap and his face gets heavy against my thigh. But I don’t stop rubbing. I keep touching him, because giving him comfort feels better than any kiss I have ever had.

I see headlights in the drive, and I slide out from under his sleeping head without waking him. He snuggles deeper into the pillow I slip under him and murmurs my name.

I pass Phil in the doorway and he looks at my clothes. “Your dad is going to kill him,” he mutters.

“I’m going to marry that man, Phil,” I tell him as I sweep past him.

“You’d better. Particularly now that you’ve defiled him,” he calls playfully at me.

I grin and get in the car with Dad. “Why do you have on different clothes?” Dad asks.

“Mine got wet. It was raining.” I shrug and smile at him.

“What did you guys do?” he asks, his voice uncertain.

“We watched a movie,” I tell him. “That’s all.”

“Did you have a good time?”

I let out a deep breath and stare out the window. “The best.”

“Bring him by the house this weekend so your mother can meet him.”

I grin. “Okay. I’ll ask him.”

“He’ll show up. That boy has balls.”

“I know.”

I
t’s Christmas Eve
, and a deep snowfall has blanketed the city. Bob and I couldn’t get out if we tried, so we made plans for tomorrow with my parents, once the roads have been cleared. I’m kind of glad the roads are so crappy, because I have some things I need to say to Bob. I need to find out what his intentions are. I need to find out where this relationship is going.

We have pretty much lived together for the past few months. He started staying over more than he was staying at Phil’s, and my roommate moved out, so he brought all his stuff over. We still haven’t officially told my parents, but I’m pretty sure he calls my apartment
home
for now and always.

But what I need to tell him might change all this. It might wreck the perfect tranquility we have found together.

The door opens and Bob walks in. He’d volunteered at the homeless shelter, setting up extra cots so some of the homeless could come in out of the weather. He wipes a dusting of snow from his hair and hangs his coat on the hook by the door. He comes over and kisses me.

“How was your day?” he asks between kisses. His cold hands slip beneath my shirt and I hiss and draw back, but he just laughs and presses harder against my skin. “Just wait a minute. You’re so warm and I’m so cold. Warm me up.”

His hand rises to cup my breast, and I’m not wearing a bra since I’m already in my pajamas.

“Mmm,” he hums. “That feels nice and soft.” He sweeps a thumb across my nipple. “Except right there. That feels kind of hard.” He flings my pajama top up and takes my nipple into his mouth.

“Easy,” I say. “They’re a little tender.”

He hums around my nipple, tugging it gently now. “It’s not that time of the month.”

“No…” I wince. “I haven’t had one of those in a couple of months.”

His head jerks up. “What?”

“Umm…”

“Oh, God, Madison,” he rushes to say. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “
A couple of months?
”

“You’ve pretty much been inside me at least once a day for the past few months, you idiot.” I push back from him. “You should know this as well as I do!”

“Hell, I just thought I was lucky!” he yells.

“Well, you can forget about getting lucky ever again!” I yell back. Tears sting my eyes but I refuse to cry in front of him. I go to the bedroom and slam and lock the door.

He pounds on the door. “Madison? I’m sorry. Can you let me in?”

“Go away!”

“I’m not going away! Let me in!”

“What are you going to do? Huff and puff and blow the door down? I’d like to see you try!”

“Madison, open the damn door.”

“This isn’t my fault!” I cry. “It’s all because of that overactive penis of yours!”

“My penis is not overactive,” he grumbles at me through the crack in the door. “And if my penis
is
overactive, then so is your vagina.”

I fling the door open. “Don’t you dare refer to my vagina like that! The only time it’s active is when you’re in it, you asshole!” I slam the door shut again.

I sniffle and I guess he hears me because his voice gets soft. “Sweetheart, are you crying?”

“You’re talking shit about my vagina!” I yell back.

He talks through the crack in the door. “Will you let me in if I promise not to talk about your vagina anymore?”

I sink down with my back to the door and I catch a tear as it rolls down my cheek, swiping it away.

“Madison?” he says, and I can tell he’s down on my level. “Please let me in.”

“I was really happy,” I say quietly.

“I can’t hear you.”

“I was really happy!” I shout.

“I heard you that time,” he calls out. “Why were you happy?”

“Because all I could think was that we had made something special together. And I was so excited to tell you. But then you had to go and warm your fucking hands on my boobs. And they’re sore all the time, and you didn’t even know it.”

The door cracks open and he sticks his hand in, then shoves it a little harder, his movements soft and slow but powerful. Finally he sits in front of me so that we’re knee to knee. “Madison…”

“Don’t talk about my vagina,” I say over a sniffle.

“I love your vagina, sweetheart. In fact, I’d like to say hello to it right now, but I doubt that’s on the table.” He brushes my hair back from my face. “You surprised me, that’s all.” His voice is soft and low, like he’s trying to soothe a wild beast.

“How did you want me to tell you?” I modulate my voice so every syllable comes out distinctly. “I’m preg-nant, you ass-hole.”

He gathers me up and pulls me into his lap. I curl into him, because there’s nowhere else I want to be.

“Are you angry at me?” I whisper.

He sets me back so he can look into my face for a second. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not angry at you. It’s not like you got pregnant all by yourself.” He chuckles.

“I’m pretty sure you were in the room,” I mutter against his chest. I wait a beat. “You sure you’re not angry?”

“I’m not angry.” He cuddles me tighter. He goes still. “Are you angry? Angry that I didn’t take better care of you, preventing all this?”

“I was happy,” I whisper. “Until you came home and you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t
un
happy. I was just stunned. And in my head, I was planning all the ways we can both stay in school, and when we can get married, and—”

I sit back. “Married?”

“
Yes. Married
.” Each word is its own punctuation. “You will marry me. My kid will have a mother and a father. And my name. And all my love. Well, all my kid-love. You have all the rest of it.”

Tears roll down my cheeks and I clench my fists in his shirt to wipe my face on it. “You want to marry me?”

He reaches into his pocket. “I wish I’d been able to ask you before all this.” He holds out a small wrapped package.

“What’s this?” I take it and heft it in my hand.

“It’s your Christmas present.” He nudges me. “Open it.”

“It’s not Christmas yet.”

“Open it!” he mock-yells.

“Okay, okay!” I cry. “If you’re going to nag me, I’m going to open it!”

I tear off the paper and flip open the lid. Inside, there’s a tiny diamond, set in an engagement ring. “I didn’t have a lot of money,” he says. “Later on, we can get a bigger one.” His brow furrows. “Do you hate it?”

I shake my head, so overcome with emotion that I can barely speak. “I love it.” I shove it back at him. “But I can’t accept it.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I will forever be the girl who got married because she got knocked up if I take that.” I shake my head. “Nope. I can’t do it.”

He sighs. “I should have seen it. All the signs were there.” He flips me onto my back, yanking my pajama top over my head during my fall. I cross my arms over my naked breasts. He pulls them back, looking down at me. “Your body has been changing. I noticed. Your boobs are bigger. And your nipples are harder and more sensitive.” He blows across my nipple, and then takes it gently into his mouth. He talks in my ear. “And the other day, when I was taking you from behind, you complained about your boobs hurting, and I had to let you get on top. Do you remember?”

His words are soft, and he keeps talking as he hooks his fingers in the hips of my pajama bottoms, pulling them down along with my panties.

His hand covers my belly. “Our kid is in there,” he says.

I look at his face, and I see that he’s blinking back emotion. “Are you scared?”

“Scared I can’t take care of you both? Yes. Scared of you and me and our baby together? No. Never. I want a family with you. I always have. I just wasn’t planning on it happening so soon.”

“It’s all my vagina’s fault.” I chuckle over the emotion that wants to slip from my body.

“And my penis had something to do with it.”

“Sneaky bastard,” I whisper.

He grins. “My penis wants to celebrate with your vagina.”

“Can we celebrate right now?”

He laughs and carries me to the bed.

When we’re both sated, he covers my belly with the flat of his hand. “I thought I was happy, with there being just the two of us,” he says. “But three is even better.” He looks into my eyes. “What do you think? Boy or girl?”

“I have names already picked out for both,” I tell him.

He laughs. “So I don’t get a say in any of it?”

“Nope.”

“So, what will the names be?” His fingers tickle across the baby bump that’s not even evident yet.

“Reagan if it’s a girl. Lincoln if it’s a boy.” I stare at him and wait for his response.

“Presidents?”

“Give them something they have to live up to.” I say with a chuckle. “I’m named after Madison. My grandfather is Grant.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Did he seriously just agree with me about something?

“Okay,” he says again. He whispers at me. “Hey.”

“What?” I whisper back.

“Do you think your vagina would consider my penis overactive if he was ready to go again?”

“I think my vagina would be delighted.” I laugh as he pulls me on top of him and lowers me to take him inside. I hiss out a breath.

“You’re going to marry me,” he warns as he raises his hips, hitting the perfect spot inside me.

“Okay. Just be still and let me come first.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

After a few minutes, I fall onto his chest, completely satisfied and ready for a nap. But I feel him sliding the ring he gave me onto my ring finger. I close my fingers once he has slid it on. “Yes,” I say, and I yawn.

“Best Christmas ever,” Bob says as he pulls the covers over us both.

He wraps around me, one hand cupping my sore boob and the other covering the baby we made, the new life we created, the promise that we are and will be more than we had ever hoped to become.