Rekindling Christmas (10 page)

“There’s nothing to discuss.” She
turned her head and stared back down the couch at him. “We’re friends. Period.”

“Is that it?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Then why did we almost kiss years
ago?”

He knew
. She waved her hand dismissively.
“Just two friends saying good-bye. We’d known each other most of our lives. My
first memory involves you…and a Tonka truck.”

“You
stole
my Tonka truck out
of my yard.”

She laughed. “Then you shouldn’t
leave your toys lying around.” She recalled the memory fondly. Her family had
just moved into the neighborhood; she was four. “Just friends.”

“The pool. Was that friendly?”

Hell no.
She saw the recognition of desire
in his eyes; he knew it too. “That was a mistake. Spur of the moment. It’s the
singles atmosphere. Too much sex in the air.”

That was what she had convinced
herself during the hours she’d locked herself up in the suite. That she and
Carson just got caught up in it, after not seeing each other for so long and
everybody at the resort having sex around them like the end of the world was
coming. Well, apparently that
was
supposed to happen today according to
the Mayan calendar. It was also supposed to happen in October of last year. And
oh well for man’s calendar of events.

“I think you’re wrong, sugar-lips.”
He reached out a hand, and taking hers from the couch cushion, he stroked her
fingers lightly.

She looked at their hands, his strong
blunt fingers touching her slender ones, and remembered those digits inside of
her, touching her and bringing her to spine-arching completion.

“How do you know?”

He tugged her hand. She lifted her
gaze and met his. She could barely see his eyes now. His lids were lowered,
giving him a dreamy expression.

“Because once I hit puberty, you
became an obsession for me. First it was your lips. You smiled at me one day
like you always did and I couldn’t stop staring at your mouth. Seeing how plump
and full your lips were. I wanted to taste them and find out if they were as
sugary-sweet as they looked, like a ripe plum.”

His voice was low, seductive,
teasing her senses. She’d wondered why when they were alone he’d teased her and
began to call her sugar-lips. Never when others were around, only when the two
of them were by themselves, sitting on the grass under the tree in his front
yard as they talked for hours.

“They are.”

She didn’t know if she should thank
him for the compliment or not, so she sat quietly, listening to his youthful
confessions. She was thankful to find out that she hadn’t just imagined that they
were going to kiss that night. That possibly he too had been feeling the shift
and change in their relationship, even though neither of them acted on it. He
had been a good friend and she had feared ruining that.

At some point during high school
junior year, she’d stopped watching Drew and started staring at Carson, but she
would have never confessed that to her friends. Hell, she never truly admitted
it to herself, always making excuses for why she was focusing on the younger
brother.

“But my fantasy didn’t stop there,”
he continued.

He fell silent for a moment and the
only thing heard in the room was the ticking clock on the wall and the hissing
of the gas flames. His eyes were closed now; she thought that possibly he’d
fallen asleep, but he started talking again. Making more erotic confessions.

“Ask me what I thought about,
Ryanne.” He played with her fingers again.

Just that simple touch was driving her
to distraction. Every movement sent heat rushing up her arm and journeying down
her body.

“Ask me.” His demand was low but
firm. He opened his eyes.

“What did you think about, Carson?” Her gaze was held by his.

“I’d fantasize for hours in my room,
just daydreaming about your pussy. I wanted to taste it. See how sweet it was.
I thought about you naked and spread out for me as I licked your pussy for
hours.”

Her eyes closed as she sighed. Cream
poured from her sex, saturated her now swollen and throbbing outer lips and
drenched her panties. His words became the brush of a master artist, stroking
and painting a picture so vivid it robbed her of her breath. Stole her sense
and had her on the verge of an orgasm. If she just squeezed her thighs together
she knew she’d come, right there on the couch with her childhood friend
touching her hand. So she sat still, didn’t move.

She knew if he pulled her to him,
she’d go willingly into his arms and surrender herself. Hell, all he had to do
was call her name one more time and she’d crawl across the couch to get to him.

But he didn’t call her name. He said
nothing. She noticed his hand was no longer caressing her own. When she opened
her eyes, she saw him—asleep. There was no mistaking it; his head hung to the
side at an awkward angle and his mouth was slightly parted.

Dropping her head back against the
couch, she let out a low growl of frustration. Leave it to him to get her all
worked up, finally ready to complete the deed with him, and then fall into a
drunken stupor.

She should wake his ass up and kick
him out, not caring if he fell asleep in the hallway. But she didn’t, nor would
she do it. He was still her friend. An aggravating one, but one still the same.
Getting up, she roused him enough to help him stretch out on the couch. Then
she pulled off his shoes and draped the afghan blanket over him. Lowering the
lights so that only the fire lit the room, she took her sexually frustrated
self off to bed.

*           *           *

Carson
felt like he’d hibernated for a
year. His mind was fuzzy about the previous night’s events and he was groggy.
Lying still for a moment, he tried to piece together the puzzle from the night
before. He recalled being disappointed that Ryanne was avoiding him when she’d
sent him a note telling him she wasn’t going to be at dinner and would see him
later. In his disappointment he’d started drinking with Phillip and the ever-present
crowd that followed his friend, a new group every day. Phillip had just found
out that he’d grabbed a marketing contract for a new up and coming pop artist.
They’d started drinking in celebration, but Carson wasn’t sure what the
drinking continued as.

He remembered having a burning
desire to see Ryanne, and it just so happened that her room number had been
written on the note given to him. He thought he recalled making it to her room,
even talking to her, but then everything in his mind spun into a familiar
fantasy from his past and he couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t.

Maybe I need more sleep. I’m sure
there’s something I probably need to apologize to her about. Even if just
showing up to her suite drunk.

Burrowing down further into the warmth
of the blanket, he realized something was off. Through the days he and Phillip
had been at the resort, he’d always gone to bed alone. Even after being
propositioned in direct and raunchy ways, he’d still found a way out of it.
Evidently, that hadn’t been the case last night.

Because two things were for sure: he
was naked, and there was a womanly form in front of him. Correction—he was
spooning with a woman. He was currently cupping a breast in one hand and her
top thigh in the other. She smelled familiar but, still out of sorts, he couldn’t
place her scent.

Afraid of who he’d find, he slowly
opened his eyes. He saw the bone-straight jet-black hair and inhaled deeply and
his body announced, with urgent recognition, who was in his arms. Ryanne.

His cock stretched between them as
more fragments of memory came rushing back. They merged and broke apart,
reminding him of them at the pool and them at the door and them on the couch.
He recalled a discussion about nipples. Ryanne’s nipples? He didn’t know, but
it seemed to make sense, maybe.

He recalled the strong desire to
kiss her lips, those sugary-sweet treats. Other erotic images assailed him, of
him licking her pussy, her wet, swollen lips parting for his pleasure.

Swallowing, he tried to bring forth
her taste. If he’d spent hours eating out the woman of his dreams, he sure
enough wanted to wake up with her flavor coating his tongue. But…nothing. Just
the stale aftertaste of alcohol.

Shit. If I fucked Ryanne and I was
too drunk to even recall the damn details…figures.
Burying his face in her neck, he
growled.

The body next to him stiffened at this
sound.

Had she been drunk too?
He vaguely recalled there had been
wine…

“Ryanne?” he whispered, knowing she
was awake now.

“Carson?” she questioned. “How did
you get in my bed?”

He sighed, causing strands of her
hair to flutter. “I don’t remember much. Sorry.”

“Are you naked?”

He frowned. What kind of question
was that? Of course he was naked. Unless maybe they’d had sex so quickly he
hadn’t undressed all the way. It was best for him to go with what he knew. “I
always sleep naked, sugar-lips.”

She slapped her palm against her
face.

“Look, Ryanne. You’re going to have
to fill me in on last night’s sexcapade. Please tell me I pleased you and
didn’t just drive into you like some randy teenage boy.”

“Sexcapade?” She glanced over her
shoulder. “We didn’t have sex last night.”

He rolled her to her back with his
hand at her chest. “Are you sure?”

He had some pretty vivid memories
dancing around in his head. They were too real, almost tangible.

“Yes. I think I’d recall having sex
with you—with anyone—last night.”

That would explain why she was in a
nightgown.

However, he took offense at hearing
her talking about
anyone
. His body tensed with the thought of another
man loving Ryanne. He had no right to lay claim to her. She was her own
individual person, but he wanted to.

Lying so close to her, he could see
the small beauty mark below her left eye in the dawn light pouring in from the
window. He lifted his hand and lightly brushed it.

“We’re not talking about anyone
else. Just me and you, sugar-lips.”

Something in her eyes flashed and
she sucked in a soft breath. Recognition of his words.

He wondered if he’d ever told her
why he’d given her the nickname. But he didn’t want to dwell on his youthful
dreams when he had the real live woman warm in his arms—and in a bed.

“Carson.” His name came out as a
caution from her lips. “I think we should step back before things get out of
hand.”

From the mole, his fingers moved
along her silky golden skin until he caressed her jawline. “Like yesterday in
the pool.”

She licked her lips.

His cock grew impressively harder.

“Yes.”

“I like when things get out of hand.
I like when you stop using that smart brain of yours…”He tapped her forehead. “…and
just let go.”

She placed both her hands on his
shoulders, but before she could push him away he caressed the side of her neck
and didn’t stop until he reached the center of her breasts.

“Don’t you want to let go, baby?”

Her heart beat a rapid tempo against
his fingertips. Her hands squeezed his shoulders.

She was trying to restrain herself.
He knew it, because he knew Ryanne. Always analytical and independent.
Considering every possibility until the right one was determined.

Cupping a breast, he squeezed and
flicked his thumb across her nipple.

She gasped and arched up against
him.

“Let go. Don’t think. Don’t try to
figure this out. Just feel.” Leaning down, he took her mouth in a passionate
kiss. Using his lips and tongue he baited her to open to him. He knew in order
to push Ryanne past all of her mental boundaries he had to make her step
outside of her norm. Outside of herself.

He pinched her nipple, taking it
between his finger and thumb, and then he tugged on it.

She gasped and he dipped between her
lips and claimed her. Over and over again he drank from her, pulling her tongue
into his mouth and suckling her until she was squirming beneath him.

The kiss went on as he pulled the
satin gown up to reveal her breasts. Leaving her giving mouth, he lowered his
body until he was face to chest with her. “You have beautiful breasts.”

Palming them, he loved how they
filled his hands just right with none left over. Like she was made for him.
Berry-dark nipples were hard and eager, reaching for his mouth. Obliging, he
opened his mouth wide and took in as much as he could. Flicking her peak with
the tip of his tongue, he pressed it to the roof of his mouth, loving the taste
and feel of her.

She palmed the back of his head, her
nails grazing his scalp as she moaned his name.

Moving from one breast to the other,
he gave it the same treatment, as her aroused scent greeted his nose and
taunted him. He’d thought about the sexual taste of Ryanne for so long, it made
him shake with desire.