Jingle Bell: Rock Part 9

His fingers slid into her hair and curved against the back of her head, urging her forward. "Take me in your mouth," he rasped.

She did as he asked, enveloping him in the wet heat of her mouth, her tongue swirling and lapping down the rigid length of him. Then she took him as deep as she could and suckled slowly, rhythmically, greedily.

His entire body shuddered, and he exhaled sharply, dragging her mouth back up to his. He kissed her with an intensity that left her reeling and maneuvered her backward, until the back of her knees. .h.i.t the edge of the mattress and he was pressing her down onto the middle of the bed. She went willingly, gasping as he caressed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and plucked at the stiff peaks with his lips and teeth, then soothed her nipples with his soft tongue. His mouth continued down her ribs, scattering hot damp kisses across her belly, until he was kneeling between her spread legs.

He sat up, reaching for a condom and in seconds sheathed himself. She was still wearing her panties, and she desperately wanted them off, but Matthew had other ideas in mind. His hot hands skimmed up her thighs, widening them even more, and then his fingers were fanning out over her mound and his thumbs were easing beneath the crotch of her underwear, sliding slowly, unerringly along her swollen folds, her aching cleft, teasing her with the promise of an explosive o.r.g.a.s.m.

She moaned fretfully, grabbed handfuls of the comforter, and arched into his illicit touch, the word please escaping her throat. She was hot and slippery wet, trembling, her climax building momentum only to ebb when he deliberately changed the rhythm of his caresses.

He lifted his head, staring up at her from between her legs. His dark lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones, and his silky hair fell over his forehead, his eyes hungry, primal. "Come for me while I watch," he murmured.

He stroked again, one thumb gliding purposefully across her c.l.i.t and the other pus.h.i.+ng into her, then slowly withdrawing, again and again, until she was panting, then screaming and climaxing as the dual sensations washed over her.

As she lay there, trying to regain her strength to move, she felt him remove her garter belt and slide her panties down her legs, along with her stockings. She expected him to finally mount her, but she was learning quickly that Matthew wasn't a man who conformed to anyone's expectations but his own.

He settled himself between her thighs again, draping her legs over his broad shoulders. He looked his fill of her, stroked his fingers along her slick folds, increasing the heat where he touched her. On a soft, needy groan, he lowered his head, his breath hot against her overly sensitive flesh.

She grabbed a handful of his hair, certain she couldn't take another o.r.g.a.s.m so soon after the first. "Nooo..."

"Oh, yes..."

His tongue touched her first, stealing her breath and stripping her of every last bit of inhibition. His skillful mouth pleasured her, slowly, leisurely, and everything he did to her, every soft, deep, erotic kiss, every lick, every suctioning swirl, felt exquisite. He wors.h.i.+ped her selflessly, leading her to the brink once again, until she was tumbling, tumbling, tumbling over the edge and shamelessly begging him to take her.

He reared up over her, and she felt the head of his erection slide along her s.e.x, unerringly finding the entrance to her body. She closed her eyes, arching into him and wrapping her calves along the back of his thighs as he flexed his hips and drove into her, high and hard and deep... possessing her completely. Not just her body, but her heart and soul as well. And she was helpless to stop the invasion. Realized she didn't want to.

A sob rose up into her throat, and she gripped his straining biceps, waiting for him to move. Other than his choppy breathing, he remained still, but she could feel him throbbing within her, his entire body taut from holding back.

His warm fingers touched her face and gently smoothed strands of her hair off her cheek. "Open your eyes and look at me, Faith."

She swallowed hard, instinctively knowing this moment was more than just about hot, unforgettable s.e.x. He was going to make love to her, and he wanted her to be sure she knew it, too.

Pus.h.i.+ng aside the fears and insecurities she'd been carrying with her for too long, she opened herself up to Matthew and met his gaze, taking that first tentative step in trusting him with her heart and emotions.

He smiled, seemingly relieved that she hadn't shut him out, and it amazed her that this strong, confident man had a few vulnerabilities of his own and wasn't afraid to display them with her.

He stared deeply into her eyes, his own so dark and beautiful, like twin windows into his soul. "I want you to know that I'm falling in love with you."

His declaration was more than she'd antic.i.p.ated, and she shook her head in denial. "Matthew... no."

"Yes," he refuted softly. "What I feel for you is real, Faith. I want you for more than just one night. I want you forever. All you have to do is trust me and believe in yourself and what you feel, too."

That said, he framed her face in his hands, kissed her, and made her feel. He rocked against her, into her, and every muscle clenched, pulled, and tightened around his shaft. He growled against her mouth and thrust into her, deeply, then deeper still, pumping in a hard, steady rhythm that had her hips lifting off the bed, straining, seeking yet another end to the thrum of desire coiling tighter and tighter within her belly. Her climax rolled through her, lifting her body against his, stretching her nerves to the breaking point one last time.

She whimpered as she came, stunned at this man's s.e.xual and emotional power over her, and he was right there with her... her name a sweet promise on his lips as he lost himself in the same immense pleasure consuming her.

Flat on her stomach, replete and sated after a night of the most erotic lovemaking Faith had ever known, she eased awake by slow degrees. She was disappointed to find herself alone, but judging by the scent of coffee teasing her nose, she guessed that Matthew was in the other room, waiting for her to join him.

Smiling at the provocative, unforgettable memories dancing in her head, she buried her face in her pillow, inhaling the intoxicating scent of Matthew and of s.e.x and all that they'd shared in this big bed. Seemingly unable to get enough of each other, they'd made love numerous times during the night. Hot and hurried. Slow and languorous. Intense and demanding. In ways that had thrilled Faith and allowed Matthew to fulfill a few fantasies he'd whispered in her ear.

She'd surrendered to him in every way. A scary prospect, that. Scarier still was the knowledge that Matthew was falling in love with her. And if she was honest with herself, she'd been fighting her feelings for him for months, too. He'd just been able to verbalize his emotions, while she'd clung tight to her insecurities for fear of being hurt again.

She'd asked Matthew for one night of unforgettable s.e.x, and he'd given her that and a whole lot more. He could have reaped the benefits of a one-night stand and enjoyed their time together and been on his way in the morning. That's what she'd expected him to do since she'd fallen victim to the gossip about him around the hospital. But now she'd learned a lot about Matthew, and one of the most important traits he possessed was that he was a man of integrity-when it came to his work, his family, and his relations.h.i.+ps. When it came to her.

Last night he'd told her that all she had to do was trust him and believe in herself and what she felt inside. A part of her was still scared and cautious, but listening to her heart, she knew she couldn't just walk away after last night. She wanted more with him, and that meant taking chances and opening her heart to the possibility of love.

Because ultimately, Matthew Carlton was a risk she was willing to take.

Matthew glanced up from the morning paper he was perusing when he heard the bedroom door open, not certain what to expect from Faith the morning after. Especially after he'd bared himself to her, physically and emotionally.

She was wrapped in one of the hotel robes, the hair he'd tousled during the night brushed so that it fell around her shoulders in soft layers. She strolled across the expanse of s.p.a.ce separating them, and unable to gauge her mood or read her expression, he offered up a smile, despite the anxious feeling settling in the pit of his belly.

"Good morning," he greeted.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice husky with remnants of sleep.

"Would you like some coffee or fruit?" he asked, motioning to the continental breakfast he'd had room service deliver for the two of them, if she stayed long enough to eat. Then there was the one present he still had left to give her, a Christmas gift he wanted her to take with her, no matter how this morning ended.

"Maybe in a little bit," she said, and slid onto his jean-clad lap, surprising him with the playful move, until she spoke her next words. "Thank you for the most unforgettable night of my life. Never would I have imagined that s.e.x could be so incredible; you more than fulfilled my Christmas wish."

So, she was still thinking in terms of s.e.x and an affair. His hopes plummeted, but he managed, just barely, to keep calm instead of making demands. "It was my pleasure." He reached for the gift on the table, wrapped in bright Christmas paper. "I have something I want to give to you, and I won't take no for an answer."

"Another memento?" she murmured as she took the present from him and lightly touched the gold bow on top.

"Yeah, something like that," he replied gruffly.

She s.h.i.+fted on his thighs as she ripped off the paper, and the lapels of her robe gaped open, offering him a view of the creamy slope of her breast. He hardened in a rush, aching to take that soft mound of flesh in his hand, his mouth...

She opened the box, peeled back layers of tissue, and gasped when she revealed the beautiful prism she'd admired down in the boutique yesterday. "Oh, Matthew." She pressed a hand to her heart, her eyes filling with moisture. "How did you know I secretly wanted this?"

"Because I was watching you with that prism and how fascinated you were." He went on to explain to her what he saw in that crystal, the different facets that reminded him so much of her, and each brilliant layer that represented such an intriguing part of who she was.

"Thank you." She stroked her fingers over the glossy surface before putting it back in its box and setting it back on the table. "I'll treasure it always."

Still, he couldn't read her tone, and all he could think was the worst... that he hadn't been able to sway her last night to believe in him. Frustration welled inside of him, and unable to be pa.s.sive about the situation any longer, he let his thoughts be known. "Dammit, Faith, I'm not letting you walk out of here today, leaving me behind and acting as though we never spent the night together. A night that was way more than s.e.x."

She blinked at him, seemingly taken aback by his sudden outburst. "I could never do that-"

"Forget falling in love, I'm in love with you," he said, forging on determinedly and stating his case before she could stop him. "And I know you felt things last night, an intimate connection that superceded a mere affair. I know everything between us has happened quickly, and I know it scares you, but I'd never deliberately hurt you like that jerk you were dating did. I don't care that you're a schoolteacher and I'm a surgeon. Those differences don't matter to me, and they won't make a bit of difference to my family, either." He knew he was rambling, but couldn't help himself because he didn't want to give her the opportunity to say no to him. "I swear we'll take things slow and easy, one day at a time until you realize how serious I am, but in order to do that you have to give us a chance."

"I know," she said softly, affectionately.

His mouth opened, and then he snapped it shut again and frowned, certain he'd misheard her. "Excuse me?"

She pressed her cool palms against his cheeks and in her eyes he saw enough emotion to make him believe in true love, soul mates, happily-ever-afters and them. "I wasn't going to walk out of here today. Not without you by my side. I woke up this morning, and after everything that happened between us yesterday, everything we shared about our pasts and relations.h.i.+ps, I knew that you'd be the one person I could trust with my heart." A small teasing smile tipped the corner of her mouth. "And I figured if there was going to be any gossip about the two of us at the hospital, it ought to be fact, not fiction."

He laughed, and rea.s.sured that this wonderful woman was his, he lifted her up so she was sitting on the table, then stood, pus.h.i.+ng her knees apart and slowly sliding his hands beneath the hem of her robe and up her soft, smooth thighs. "It's Christmas Eve, and I want you to spend tonight and tomorrow with me and my family."

"I'd love to," she said happily, and sucked in a breath when his fingers encountered her soft, wet heat.

He grinned rakishly as other more pressing matters made themselves known. "G.o.d, I'm suddenly ravenous."

"Me, too." Knowing exactly what he was starving for, he watched as she untied the sash around her waist, and with a shrug of her shoulders the robe slipped down her arms and off.

Faith sat there, gloriously naked, trust and love s.h.i.+mmering in her eyes, along with a wealth of pa.s.sion for him. Cupping the back of his head, she brought his mouth to her breast and murmured, "Breakfast is served."

Turning Up the Heat.

Susan Donovan.

Chapter One.

The longer Valerie sat, the colder she got.

She perched on a hard dining room chair, teeth chattering, the silk shawl pulled tight across her shoulders. Her eyes darted from the front door to the leg of lamb-now congealing in the candlelight-in the center of the table.

She silently a.n.a.lyzed the situation again and had to admit it was pitiful. She was all alone-on Christmas Eve, no less-and everything she'd done to keep loneliness at bay had backfired.

Yes, she'd prepared a festive meal, but it was for a party of one. Yes, she was wearing a beautiful new dress and had taken an hour to do her hair and makeup-but the glamorous result was for her eyes only.

And now, to add insult to injury, the heater had stopped working. So there she sat, waiting for the doorbell to ring. Waiting for some greasy, wrench-wielding furnace repairman guy to come in and fix it.

With a pensive smile, Valerie gripped the shawl even tighter across her chest and wondered if she'd ever be warm again. She wondered if any woman this cold and lonely could ever again feel the heat.

"Merry Christmas to me," she whispered, standing up.

Valerie grabbed the silver platter of lamb in one hand and the cut-gla.s.s salad bowl in the other and headed to the kitchen, knowing that if she let herself get all pessimistic about this, she'd have to admit that repairmen were like all men-they just got to be more direct about it. They showed up whenever they felt like it. They made you wait. Like their time was more important than yours. Like it didn't matter that you were freezing your buns off.

Then they left you with a bill.

Valerie went back to the table and blew out the candles. A jagged swirl of white smoke made a beeline right Into her nostrils and made her cough, made her nose run and her eyes tear. She grabbed the sweet potato souffle, the rolls, the green beans with almonds and tossed all the leftovers into Tupperware and into the fridge. She didn't even burp the lids-that's how miserable she felt.

She leaned up against the cabinets and looked down at her feet. The black suede sling-backs cost a hundred and fifty big ones. The sheer black thigh-highs were twenty. And she didn't even want to think about what she'd paid for the red velvet c.o.c.ktail dress. Or the leg of lamb. Or the wine.

Her eyes were watering quite a bit now, and she didn't think she could blame it on the smoke. It was just plain sad that a woman would go to all this trouble to keep her spirits up, only to fail miserably. It was sad that she would pretend to be some red-hot holiday s.e.x kitten only to have no one notice.

Valerie ripped off a jagged section of paper towel dotted with little red snowmen, and blew her nose.

Who was she kidding? There was nothing left to do but put on her baggy, green plaid, flannel pajamas, crawl under the down comforter, and watch When Harry Met Sally for the nine-millionth time.

Valerie pushed herself away from the cabinets and was heading down the hallway when the doorbell rang.

Great. She couldn't wait to meet her "date" for the evening-the guy from Ferguson Heating and Cooling.

As her hand hit the doork.n.o.b, Valerie decided the guy would have to be the cream of the crop-the one repairman who wasn't married or in a relations.h.i.+p. The one poor loser who didn't mind working for holiday overtime on the most special night of the year. A guy who'd be bald, with a beer gut and droopy repairman drawers. A guy with a name like Lloyd or Cletus or Earl.

A guy who was as big a loser as she was.

"Ms. Matthews?"

The blood roared through her head. Her body went ice-hot. And her hands began to shake. But in general, if this was what it felt like to have a hallucination, Valerie decided it was pretty manageable.

She stared at the man in the blue zippered jacket who stood on her stoop. His name was machine-st.i.tched across what looked like an exceptionally well developed chest.

Earl. At least she'd been right about one thing.

"Ms. Matthews?" He lowered his head to catch her eye. "I'm with Ferguson Heating and Cooling. I understand you're having some problems with your unit."

Her unit. Yes, indeed. Her unit had definitely started to act up.

Valerie scanned the specimen who stood before her. The snow swirled behind him and the porch light glittered off the individual flakes, creating a moving halo of tiny gold and white stars around his handsome head.

He looked like an angel. An angel with rich brown curls and mesmerizing blue eyes. An angel with a straight, strong nose. An angel carrying a clipboard and a rounded metal toolbox that looked like it weighed a ton.

A studly snow angel named Earl.

"Can I come in, Ms. Matthews? It's a bit nippy out here. And you-" Earl stopped. Valerie watched-and felt-his eyes slide up and down her clingy red velvet dress, to her stockings, to her shoes, and back up again. Real slow. His gaze fastened on the tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, suddenly revealed as the shawl slid down her shoulders.

He cleared his throat. "Looks like you might be chilly."

Valerie managed to get her feet to work, and she took a few choppy steps backward, pulling the door wider as she went. Earl stepped inside, bringing with him a churn of snow, a gust of cold air, the smell of winter.

And a smile hotter than August in Hades.

"How about we warm you up, Ms. Matthews?" Earl stood over her, his mouth still forming that sizzler of a smile, his eyes s.h.i.+ning. Valerie watched, fascinated, as a single snowflake dangled from a spiky lower eyelash, fell to the rise of his smooth cheek, and melted on contact.

Just like she was doing.

"Do you think Mr. Matthews could show me where the furnace is?"

The silence hung heavy between them. Eventually, she said, "Who's he?"

Those were the first words Valerie had managed to utter and they came out scratchy and low, like she was catching a cold.

Earl's smile mellowed, and then turned sly. "I see," was all he said.

And without a word-without her permission-Earl took a few long strides on long legs and was suddenly standing in the middle of her living room, like he owned the place.

She watched his head swivel on a st.u.r.dy male neck, surveying the scene. His gaze stopped on the dining room table, and Valerie saw what he saw-puddles of cold candle wax on the white linen tablecloth, indentations where the serving dishes had been. The remnants of a table for one.