The Magic Of Christmas (9 page)

"Not here," he whispered as he finally managed to pull away from her long enough to gulp down some much-needed air.  "I want you, Celli.  God, do I want you.  But not like this in some faceless, nameless room.  You deserve flowers and romance and so much more."

Shaking her head, she pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath.  "Later.  All of that can come later.  Right now, if I don't have you, I think I'll die."  And she really did.  Now that the damn of emotions had been broken, she didn't know how to keep them inside.  She was also afraid that if Drake left her side now, he would change his mind, that his sense of honor might get the better of him.

She didn't want that.  She wanted him.  Inside of her.  Now.  She was tired of waiting.  She had waited her entire life for this night.  She would not be denied.

Determined to take charge just as she had on that long ago night, she tugged on Drake's hand.  "Upstairs.  To your room.  Now."

That made him smile and she could see the white of his teeth nearly glow in the dark.  "You've gotten demanding in your old age," he teased, but he took her hand willingly and followed her as she practically ran over to the secret panel that would lead to the hidden passageway and directly to the Presidential Suite.

"Maybe I just know what I want in my old age," she teased, feeling a lightness inside of her that had been missing for so long.  Being with Drake tonight wouldn't solve her problems.  She was smart enough to know that.  She still had decisions to make.  Big ones.

But if she could put one piece of her life together, perhaps the biggest piece of all, then the rest would follow.  She believed that with all of her heart.

Once they were in the passageway, the old wall sconces flickered on, triggered by their movements.  However the lights were either old or some of them were out because the passageway was darker.  Drake was fairly certain it hadn't been this dark when he had come downstairs, but he didn't remember it clearly.  No matter.

All that mattered was Cecilia.  She was here.  With him.  In his arms.  And she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.  She always had.  There was a freedom in that, one he hadn't anticipated, but one that made his blood pump just a little harder and a little faster.

When the door swung closed behind them, and they were well and truly alone with no fear of anyone walking in on them, he found that he could no longer control himself and the raw, sexual Drake Vale came out to play.  The one that no one, not even his lovers, ever saw.  This passion was reserved for one woman and one woman alone.  His Cecilia.

"God, Celli, I want you," he growled as he pinned her against the wall and kissed the long column of her neck, nipping at the delicate skin.  "Every inch of you is perfect.  Did you know that?"

"You make me feel perfect."  Drake was making it difficult to breathe.  He was everywhere, kissing her, surrounding her, filling her.  His hands were on her skin, in her hair.  His lips on hers, on her throat, at her collarbone, dancing along her shoulder.  Everywhere.  He was her sun and her moon, making everything come alive.  It was as if her life had been a black and white movie up until this moment, and now, it was busting to life in full color, vivid and glorious.

He pulled back, stroking his thumbs along her temple.  "You make me want to be perfect.  Celli, I'm not a perfect man.  You know that.  There's been too much..."

"And I don't care," she countered, cutting him off quickly.  "I'm not perfect either.  But I think you're perfect for me, if that's what you're worried about."  Then she kissed him again, hard and fast, wanting to erase any doubt from his mind that she wanted him.  All of him.  That she had always seen him for precisely who he was and never found him lacking.

He teased the seam of her lips with his tongue and she opened for him immediately, her mouth warm and inviting, her own tongue darting out immediately to tangle with his.  He fisted his hands in her hair, titling her head back so that it was the perfect angle for him to taste her deeply, each sip from her lips more like heaven than he remembered.

And he had remembered an awful lot about that first, awkward, and yet somehow still so perfect kiss.

Cecilia kissed him back with all that she was, her lips hard and demanding on his, her hands clutching his hips and grinding her body against his in unspoken need, a feeling building inside of her that threatened to explode.  She wanted this.  She wanted him, years of pent up desire and longing bubbling up inside of her, pushing her to crave more.  Demand more.  Demand all of him.  Just hers for the taking.

Somehow, they managed to stumble up the stairs to the bedroom of the Presidential Suite, shedding clothes as they went.  She didn't know when he had lost his shirt or where her dress had gone, but she didn't care.  They were so close now.  Skin on skin.  Body to body.  This was perfection.  This was Drake.  The only man she had ever loved.

All around them, the snow swirled outside, the raging blizzard burying the town in snow and reflecting so much light back through the windowed walls that the room seemed bathed in magical light.  Drake thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight than Cecilia standing there in the half-light, clad only in her full-body slip, her chest heaving and her lips swollen from his kisses.

His lover.  His woman.  His love.  The only one there would ever be.

Somehow, he found his way to the king-sized bed and managed to sit down before he fell down, his knees weak.  She affected every last part of him.  It also didn't help that most of the blood that was usually in his head was engaged elsewhere at the moment.

"Come here, Cecilia."  He crooked a finger in her directly, his eyes dark now with unbridled passion, and she sauntered across the floor, her hips swaying seductively.  He loved that she saw him as her equal, as a man to be seduced.  A man worthy of seduction.  Worthy of her.  "I want you."

She watched him track her movements with his eyes.  They were hot and hungry, displaying a need so great that she swore she could feel it inside of herself.  When she finally reached his side, she stopped and stood in front of him, uncertain of what came next.  Oh, she knew the sex part, certainly.  She'd had enough practice with that over the years.

But never with Drake.  Never with the man she loved.

She shouldn't have worried because Drake had more than made up his mind what came next.  He reached out and, with more strength than she realized he possessed, lifted her off her feet so that she could straddle his lap as they sat together on the bed.

Gently, he reached up and stroked back a lock of her hair that had fallen into her eyes.  "If you want me to stop, Celli, tell me now.  Because pretty soon, it's going to be too late."  He leaned down and kissed the hollow at the top of her breasts.  "I have waited a very long time for this moment and I don't know if I have it in me to wait much longer."  He gave her a look she could only describe as one filled with longing and ran a hand down her arm and then back up, stroking her skin gently until she thought she might combust.

"Don't stop, Drake," she sighed as she settled more firmly against him.  "Not now and not ever.  Sometimes I think I've waited a lifetime for this moment."  Now it was her turn to lean in and nuzzle the base of his throat.  "In a way, I have."

When Drake pulled her backwards onto the bed, she let out a little shriek before quickly finding her balance, her knees coming to rest on either side of his hips.  She could feel the hot, hard muscles of his chest as she laid her palms against his bare skin.  There was a dusting of dark hair coating his chest, something that hadn't been there when he'd been a boy.

For a moment, she simply studied him, taking in his body in the reflected light of the snow outside.  Tentatively, she reached out, tracing her finger down an old scar that criss-crossed his chest.  It was the same one she had bandaged years ago after his stepfather had beaten him with a belt.  She thought he might pull away from her, but instead, he allowed her to look her fill, her fingers tracing the lines of his scars, most of them faded now with time.  Visible only if someone was close enough to see.

Drake held as still as he possibly could, allowing Cecilia to do as she wished.  It was almost torture, her touching him while he didn't move, but he wanted to give her this.  How many times had he appeared on the Linden's doorstep beaten and bloody?  More than he wanted to remember.  And each time, Cecilia had silently led him up to the bathroom and helped him out of his bloody clothes.  She had bandaged his wounds, even the ones that probably should have been stitched up in a hospital, because she didn't want him sent into foster care or a juvenile home where he would lose the one, tenuous grasp on family that he had.

"Did anyone ever ask about these?" she finally asked, the passion in her eyes bright.  "Did they ever ask where they came from?"  She really didn't want to know specifically about the other women he had been with, but she had to know.  Was she the only one who knew the truth of his past?

"They did," he confirmed stroking his hand up and down her arm lazily, feeding the fire that was growing within her, the one that even the past could no longer contain.  "But I couldn't tell them the truth."  Looking up, he captured her eyes with his, their gazes locked together.  "I told everyone I was in a motorcycle accident and that I had almost died.  It made me seem sexy and dangerous and no one ever questioned.  It was just one more piece to the illusion.  One more lie."

Cecilia didn't move for a long minute, simply stared at him, drinking in the sight of him as if she would never see him again.  Then she leaned down and gently kissed along the length of one of the worst scars, one that probably should have received medical treatment.

When she was finished with that one, she picked another, kissing the length of it as well, and stopping only long enough to lick his flat male nipple and make him shiver beneath her.  "No more hiding, Drake.  Not from me, anyway.  Keep your illusions for the world, but you can trust me.  Just like I trust you.  I always have."

At her words, his heart broke in his chest and the last of his resistance, the last niggling voice in the back of his mind that suggested that he do the right thing and set Cecilia free quieted down.  She knew him, all of him, and she didn't shy away.

"Not now and not ever," he promised solemnly.

Then, without warning, he flipped them over so that she was pinned beneath him, his large body holding her in place.  Lightly, he kissed the soft, sweet column of her neck, feeling her breathing become erratic beneath him.  She was on the verge.  So was he.  But he would give her one more chance to change her mind.

"I want you, Celli," he breathed as he nibbled on her ear.  "More than you know.  But if you don't want this, if you don't want 
me
, then tell me now and I'll let you go."  It would kill him, but he would do it.

Cecilia pushed against Drake's chest, knowing that he needed to see the sincerity in her eyes.  "I do want you, Drake.  All of you.  For me, it's only ever been you."  She threaded her fingers through his hair, loving the silky feel of it, just as she had always imagined it would be.  "Only you."

Then she arched her body into his in a silent invitation to take what he wanted.  Because if he didn't, she would.  She would not be denied.  Not any longer.

Her words were all of the encouragement that Drake needed.  His slow, lazy kisses became passionate and fiery.  His hands caressed her body, relishing her curves and the softness of her skin.

"So beautiful," he breathed as he kissed along the length of her collarbone while she wiggled and whimpered beneath him.  With the tip of his tongue, he traced lazy, seductive circles at the hollow of her throat, gently easing his way down her body one maddening inch at a time.  "So sweet.  So perfect.  So mine."

Cecilia felt his words against her overheated skin, his hot breath sending flames racing along the length of her body, making her restless and setting up an aching need deep inside of her.

"Yours," she agreed breathlessly, running her hands down the length of his back, feeling the old scars beneath her fingertips and loving him all the more because of them.  "All yours."  Beneath the ugly scars, his skin was hot and soft, his body muscle and bone, each part of him perfect.  It left her craving more.  More of him and more of his body.  She wanted all of him - body and soul.

When he tugged her slip out of the way, she rose up slightly on the bed so he could toss the garment aside.  Her bra followed quickly, followed by her panties.  Then she was naked before him, lying in his bed.  Just the place she had wanted to be.

"So beautiful," he said again, this time with a hitch in his voice before he leaned down to take one of her nipples into his mouth and began to suckle her.

At the first slide of his mouth over her hot flesh, Cecilia nearly came undone.  Men had lavished attention on her breasts before, but not like this.  This was worship.  Drake was claiming her body with his mouth, marking every part of her as his.  And she would allow it for as long as he wanted.  With his hand, he palmed her other breast, rolling the tight nipple between his fingers, each tug and pinch so gentle that they were maddening.

With each light, teasing caress of his tongue over the engorged tip, Cecilia felt herself grow wetter, hotter, until she was fairly aching inside.  And all he had done was touch her breasts.  What would happen when he finally entered her?  She realized that she couldn't wait to find out.