Any Given Christmas (13 page)

“Coffee?”

“Sure.” Mesmerized, he watched her towel-clad hips sway with each barefoot step she took.

She turned and caught him looking as she set the pastry box down on the counter. She lifted the lid on Kate’s double-chocolate-chip banana muffins and groaned. “Shoot. I was going to start a diet today.”

His gaze slid over the length of her body, from her pink painted toenails to the tops of her silky smooth shoulders. Why did women with curves always think they needed to diet? She was perfect. And soft. He didn’t think he’d ever touched a woman as soft as Emma. And while she worried about her weight, all he could think about was touching her again.

“Why would you want to do that?” She rolled her eyes as if he’d asked the most ridiculous question. “Come on, you’ll break Kate’s heart if you don’t at least taste one of her best sellers.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” With one hand she clutched the pink towel tight to her chest. With the other she handed a muffin to him, then she snatched one up for herself. Her teeth sank into the bread and her eyes rolled closed. “Mmmm.”

When her perfect lips came together in a smile, heat flooded his groin and all Dean wanted was to sink into
her
and stay there for a good, long time.

E
mma set the half-eaten muffin down on a napkin on the counter and lifted her hand to wipe the crumbs from her mouth.

“I’ll take care of that.” Dean caught her arm, lifted her fingers to his mouth, and licked the crumbs away. Each stroke of his tongue brought back memories of the night before and the fireworks he’d introduced into their lovemaking.

“Mmmmm. You taste good, honey.” He tugged her against his wide chest and his thick arms surrounded her with firm muscles. The scent of soap on his skin and a hint of aftershave sent a tingle right through her middle to all her good parts. Damn him for always smelling so good.

He lowered his head and kissed each corner of her mouth.

She settled her palms on his chest. “I should probably get dressed.”

“Now that would be a real shame.” His big hands slid down her back, grabbed hold of the bottom of the towel, and yanked it away.

Before she could grab the towel and re-cover herself, it fluttered to the floor.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her. Her body arched against him and a slow smile spread across his mouth. “That’s much better.”

He kissed her neck in the sensitive spot beneath her ear. A spray of effervescent bubbles shot up from her core and settled right in the center of her heart. His hot, moist mouth slipped down to the curve of her shoulder and his big hand covered her breast. He rolled her erect nipple back and forth between his thumb and finger. And she was gone, gone, gone.

“Merrrrooowww.”

Startled, they both looked up to find Oscar in the doorway, watching them as though they were HD Kitty Porn TV.

“Pervert.” Without letting her go, Dean nudged the kitchen door closed with his foot and shut out her snoopy cat.

In that split second, common sense reeled back as bright sunshine flooded through the window. “Dean?” she said as he returned his mouth to that really sensitive spot just below her ear that sent tingles down to her hard nipples.

“Yeah, honey?” he muttered against her throat.

“I… uh…”
Damn that felt amazing.
“Don’t think this is a good idea.”

His head tilted slightly as he lifted her hand and held it to his heart. Beneath her fingertips she felt the quick rhythm skipping through his chest. Then he slid her hand lower and cupped her fingers over the bulge behind the zipper of his worn Levi’s.

“
This
is what you do to me, Emma. So right now, I’d sincerely appreciate it if you just wouldn’t
think
.” He gave her a smile ripe with promise. “Okay?”

“O-kay.”

Thinking really was overrated anyhow.

His big hands slid down her back to her bare bottom, grabbed hold, and lifted. She felt the flinch in his arm as he settled her on the counter and stepped between her thighs.

“Your shoulder—”

“Is fine.” His mouth slid from her throat down to her breast. He circled the erect nipple with his tongue, sucked it into his mouth, then lifted his head to look up at her. “But if you want, I’ll let you kiss it better.”

One part of her wished she could take away that pain and agony and disappointment. The other part of her knew that once his pain was gone, he’d be gone too.

She leaned forward and gently pressed her mouth to those places where a scalpel had sliced into his perfect, tan skin. As far as seductions went, she knew she could start at his shoulder. But eventually she’d want to work her way down.

All the way down.

His broad shoulders were smooth. Nice. But there were other parts of him intimately more impressive. She placed her palms on the sides of his face, kissed him on the mouth, then guided those magical lips right back to her breast. “Now where were you?”

He chuckled against her skin but didn’t hesitate to do exactly as she directed. Each tug and pull of his mouth caused a responding tug lower. Her thighs squeezed his hips and pulled him closer until she felt his long, hard erection press between her legs.

“One of us is wearing too many clothes.” She reached for the buttons on his flannel shirt. Her fingers hurried each one through the buttonhole, then she slipped her hands beneath the soft, warm material to push it away. While it floated to the floor, she tugged the hem of the blue t–shirt from his jeans. He withdrew to help. Still unable to lift his arm over his head, he did a one-sided tug with his left hand and the fabric sailed to the floor.

He reached for her.

“Stop.”

Disappointment darkened his eyes. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“I just… want to look.” Her gaze ran over him like he was a playground. From his broad shoulders down the defined planes of his chest to the perfectly spaced muscular ridges of his stomach.

“And touch.” Emma ran her hands down the fine light brown hair on his wide chest, hard muscles, and hot skin, then over his shoulders, taking care to lighten her touch at the angry scars dotting his perfection. With her fingers she traced the sexy narrow trail of soft, fine hair that circled his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of his 501s.

“And taste.” She kissed the center of his chest and he groaned in appreciation. Then she flattened her tongue against the bud of his erect nipple and gently sucked it into her mouth.

“I want you so much,” he growled.

Emma leaned back to look at him. He was a hot, sexy man. Dangerous. Yet somehow he made her feel safe.

Foolish girl.

He had her sitting butt-naked on top of her kitchen counter in broad daylight. She should be embarrassed. Mortified at her own behavior. His warm hand curled at the base of her neck, and she forgot all about being good.

His mouth captured hers in a sizzling, wet kiss. The tips of her breasts brushed against the fine hair on his chest and created an ache deep inside while his talented hands teased the hot pulsing points of her body. She reached for the button fly on his 501s, pulled the metal buttons from the holes then slid the material down. When he was naked between her thighs, she wrapped her hand around his thick, hard shaft. He dropped his forehead to hers and a shudder rippled down his back as she moved her palm down his hot skin to the plump head, then back up. He pushed himself deeper into her hand and groaned.

A feeling of power came over her. An amazement that she, a schoolteacher from Deer Lick, could make a football giant like Dean Silverthorne practically melt in her hands.

She liked that feeling.

He covered her hand with his and moved her palm up and down his erection.

“I want you, Dean.”

“I want you too.”

“Condom?”

“Anything for you, honey.” He smiled, released her hand, and reached into his wallet. “A little help?”

“Anything for you…”

He chuckled as she tore open the gold Magnum packet and rolled the thin latex down his long, hard shaft. When he pushed into her hand again she flooded with heat and dampness. She wrapped her legs around his waist and guided him toward her entrance.

His head lifted and he looked into her eyes. He kissed her, eased himself deep inside, then stilled. He dropped his forehead to hers. “No regrets, Em.”

He would leave. That was a given. Still… she pulled a deep breath of air into her lungs. “No regrets.”

He withdrew slightly, then pushed until he was fully seated. She felt the head of his penis press against her cervix and then he withdrew. The push and pull friction nearly drove her over the edge.

“No regrets,” he murmured as his hips pumped faster, as he reached between them and rubbed her sensitive spot with his thumb. She planted her hands on the counter behind her and he gripped her thigh as he moved deeply, possessively inside her.

The back of her head bumped the cabinet. Her hand slipped on the counter and knocked the lid off the cow cookie jar. Each thrust made her crave him more, made her skin hot, made her breasts tingle. He increased the pressure on his thumb and shot her right toward the edge.

She cried out his name. “Don’t stop. Please. Do. Not. Stop.” He moved, rotated, pressed.
Oh, God.
Fire swept from her heart down her body and she fell into a long, hot, breath-stealing orgasm. Her muscles contracted, grabbed at him, and pulled him in deeper.

He grasped her hips tighter, dropped his head back, and thrust one final time with a deep, throaty groan. When their breathing returned to somewhat normal, he wrapped his arms around her and brought her against his chest. His heart pounded against hers. “Damn, honey,” he said between breaths, “you keep that up and you’re going to make me fall in love with you.”

Emma turned her head, pressed her cheek to his warm chest, and tried not to think about how that made her feel. Or that no matter how she felt she would have to let him go.

“Y
ou’re killing me, Em.”

Dean glanced at the woman next to him dressed in Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and a skimpy bra-less tank top. They were watching his alma mater beat the snot out of Michigan in the Rose Bowl. Or he was trying to watch. The soft and pretty distraction on the sofa beside him was far more stimulating than the one-sided butt-whomping the Trojans were giving to the Wolverines. Over the top of her silky blond hair Emma had stuck a Green Bay Packers ball cap, the team his Stallions were matched against in the divisional playoffs. “You live in the hometown of the Houston Stallions quarterback and you don’t own a team cap?”

“I don’t like the Stallions.”

“And why not?” he asked, biting into a spicy nacho chip.

“Their quarterback is full of himself.”

The second bite halted before it even got to his mouth. “Are you serious? The guy has the sixth-highest career passer rating of all time.” Speaking of himself in third person was weird.

“Tom Brady has the fifth-highest. And he’s better-looking.”

“Brady!” He tossed his tortilla chip back onto his plate. “He’s a girl.”

She laughed. “What do you mean, he’s a girl? He’s married to a supermodel.”

“Have you seen the guy’s hair?”

“He says his wife likes it.”

“See? Like I said. He’s a girl. No man lets a woman pussy him into wearing long hair if he doesn’t want to.”

“Maybe he loves her and just wants to make her happy.”

“If he wasn’t such a girl, he’d know how to make her happy.” He grinned, enjoying every second of this back-and-forth banter. Most of the women he dated didn’t know a pigskin from a pig’s ass, let alone a QB’s stats. Emma impressed the hell out of him. Not to mention he liked kissing her a whole lot. “How do you know all this stuff anyway?”

A smirk lifted the corners of her mouth. “I live in the hometown of the Houston Stallions quarterback, where everyone talks football stats. I’ve been collecting data for years, just waiting for the bigheaded butt to fall from the town’s enormous pedestal.”

“Oh, really?”

She nodded. Dean grabbed the Packers cap off her head and tossed it to the chair, where it landed on her cat, who’d been staring at him like he was a fresh sardine. The cat wiggled from beneath the cap, hissing and spitting like he had been attacked by a cougar. “Your cat hates me.”

“I believe that was established the first time you came over.”

“Right. I’m still trying to get the cat drool out of my coat sleeve.”

She stroked the cat’s head and laughed. “Maybe you could try to make friends with him.”

“Yeah. That’s never going to happen. I’ve got to practically overdose on antihistamines before I even come over here.” Not that he minded. He stretched his arm behind her on the sofa and thought of all the things that made Emma special. “You mentioned your grandmother raised you. I’d like to meet her.”

She leaned back and looked at him. “Why?”

“To tell her she did a good job.” Emma looked down at her hands. “Uh-oh. Did I say something wrong?”

“I appreciate the gesture but it really wouldn’t matter. My Memaw has dementia.”