Christmas at Twilight (18 page)

The other woman's generosity touched Meredith. She placed a palm over her chest. “That is so sweet of you, but it's Christmas, and I'm sure you have plans with your family.”

“Actually, we do our family thing on Christmas Eve. Honestly, we wouldn't mind a bit. And we're right across the road if you get lonesome and want to come after them. Or . . .” Flynn leaned in and lowered her voice. “You can let them spend the night if Hutch really opens up to you and you guys need more adult alone time.”

“We're not . . . it's not what . . .” Meredith started to deny and protest the depth of her relationship with Hutch, but to tell the truth, she did want a chance to explore the feelings he stirred in her. Nothing might come of it. “Are you sure?”

A knowing grin lit up Flynn's pretty face. “It'll be fun. We'll watch movies, play games, and Grace will love having playmates.”

Flynn was the children's teacher, after all, and Meredith had to start trusting someone sometime. But what if Sloane came for her? It was so like him to show up on Christmas Day to ruin everything. But if that were the case, wouldn't Ben be safer away from her? Torn, she slanted a look at Hutch, who was listening to Jesse suggest the same thing to him. He nodded.

“Your call,” Flynn said. “We don't want to intrude, just thought you two might need to decompress.”

Meredith swallowed back her hesitation, reached for the helping hand.
He'll be right across the street.
“Maybe for just a few hours. Thank you so much for offering.”

“Great. Do you want to bring over some extra clothes in case you decide to let them stay the night?”

“I'll do that.”

Flynn turned to Kimmie and Ben. “Kids, would you like to come over to my house? We're going to watch
How the Grinch Stole Christmas
, play Candy Land, make popcorn balls, and read Thomas the Train.”

“And
The Magic Christmas Cookie
?” Kimmie asked.

“And
The Magic Christmas Cookie
,” Flynn confirmed.

“Yay!” Kimmie clapped.

“Mommy.” Ben looked at her. “Is it okay?”

“Sure it is.”

Disbelief crossed his little face. “Really?”

She'd been holding the reins too tightly. She knew that, but it was so tough letting them go. “Really.”

“Cool.” He turned to Flynn. “Let's go.”

Leaving Meredith shivering in the cold, until Hutch put his arm around her shoulder and whispered, “That first step is a doozy, Mother Hen, but everything is going to be okay.”

F
lynn waited while Meredith gathered up clothes for the children. Hutch tidied up the kitchen, putting the roast in the fridge for later. Then they stood on the porch together and waved good-bye to the children until they disappeared into the Calloways' house.

“Looks like it's just you and me,” Hutch said, and guided her inside.

He closed the front door, and it was all Meredith could do not to run across the street and tell Flynn that she'd changed her mind. She wanted her boy back.

But her situation had already stunted Ben's life. He had no family, no long-term friends. If she wanted Ben to have a prayer of growing up strong and self-confident, she had to start giving him some independence in bite-sized doses. Never mind that the thought made her hyperventilate.

The house was so empty without the children in it.

“You could change your mind,” Hutch said in that midnight-deep voice that made her toes curl. “Do you want me to go get them?”

“Do you?” She sank her top teeth into her bottom lip. “Want to go get them?”

“I only want to please you.”

The simplicity in that statement, the honesty in his eyes told her it was true. “I . . . I think we need time together. To really talk.”

“Yeah,” he said huskily. He was standing with his back against the front door. She was in the foyer, a few feet away from him, and remembered that first day when she'd guided him inside his own home.

She raised a hand to her throat.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

Of Hutch? No. Never. Slowly, she shook her head. “Are you?”

“Hell, yeah.” He combed a hand through his hair, exhaled. “I gotta tell you, babe, I've never felt like this before. Brand-new territory.”

“How's your throat?”

He gave a wry, self-effacing smile. “I'm rusty, but I can talk.”

She gulped, shifted her gaze to his shirt pocket. “Do you want to redeem your gift? A massage might help you relax.”

His lips pursed in amusement. “Meredith Sommers, do you realize what you're proposing?”

“I'm well aware of how responsive you are to touch,” she said. “That first day we met—”

“I do apologize for the impromptu hard-on, but you
were
undressing me.”

“And I'd just blasted you with pepper spray. How many men could get an erection under those circumstances?”

“What can I say? You are one red-hot woman.”

She gave a little laugh, flattered by the hungry expression in his eyes, and pressed two fingers to her lips.

“I'm not kidding. Just talking about it is getting me charged up. You sure you really want to give me a massage because I—”

She rushed across the space between them to plant her mouth on his in a quick, hard kiss that had his eyes bugging. “I know you just started talking again, but hush.”

He nodded vigorously.

Are you sure you're ready for this? You know exactly where this massage is going to lead.
Yes. Precisely. “The massage table is in my bedroom closet. The one I use at work belongs to Hot Legs Spa. Just give me—”

“We don't need no stinkin' massage table.” Hutch bent and scooped her into his arms.

“You're not sweeping me off my feet, are you? Because you know how I feel about that.”

Immediately, he set her down.

“I was joking.”

“I'm not. I don't want to do anything that reminds you of him.”

She didn't meet his eyes, but she reached out to toy with the button on his shirt. “You're not like him in any way, but his influence has taken over my life.”

He closed his hand over hers. “Meredith.”

She caught her breath.

“Look at me.”

Reluctantly, she raised her head. There was nothing in his eyes but kindness, patience, and love.

“You're not ready for this step.”

“I am.”

“We've only known each other a little over three weeks.”

“Plenty of people make love on the first date, and while we've only known each other three weeks, we've been living together and it's been . . . amazing.” She wasn't romanticizing their connection. They'd been great in the rough spots—their disagreements, taking care of the kids, the ups and downs of their emotional baggage, the communication barrier—working through everything and coming out on the other side better people for having gone through the struggles.

“Even when you threw me out of the house?”

“Yes.” She pressed the flat of her palm against his chest. “Because we both learned something from that and we grew closer because of it.”

He brushed his fingertips over her temple. “I want you. More than you can possibly know. But it has to feel right to both of us.”

“It does feel right. Nothing has ever felt more right.” She was scared that he wouldn't make love to her. “Doesn't it feel right to you?”

“I can't think of a more perfect way to celebrate Christmas Day than making love to you for the first time.”

“Then take me upstairs.” She jumped into his arms.

He caught her in his powerful embrace and she wrapped her legs around his waist, entwined her arms around his neck, and rested her head on his shoulders. Sunshine parted the thunderclouds of the last five years and she was home. Moored.

He carried her up the stairs and she could feel the steady, reliable lub-dub of his heart beating against her breasts.

This was so easy. Who knew that being with him would be this easy? Effortless as a bird gliding on the breeze.

She tilted her head back to get a good look at him. Those dark eyes, that strong chin and masculine nose, a neck marred with scars. Scars she didn't even notice anymore. Some people might think he looked scary. To Meredith he was the most handsome man in the world. How had his face become so familiar to her in such a short time? It felt as if they'd known each other all their lives.

He was so gentle with Kimmie, so kind to her son, infinitely patient with both children. She'd thought he was sexy from the very beginning, although she hadn't really allowed herself to think those kinds of thoughts, but the more she came to know him, her attraction took on added layers. What she felt for him was much more complicated than simple sexual chemistry, although there was plenty of that too.

She could not wait to be with him, to feel his body inside hers.

Hutch opened the door to her bedroom, crossed over the threshold, and then kicked it closed behind them. He set her down on the bed, stepped back to send an appreciative gaze traveling over her body, his hair curling around the tops of his ears in a totally disarming way. His face dissolved into a knowing grin that said,
I want to see you naked.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his words catching on the last word, rusty, as he'd said.

She was feeling pretty rusty herself and her hands were shaking again. This was a big step. The first time since . . . No, she wasn't going to think about
him
. Wasn't going to let
him
ruin this cherished moment.

If she'd planned this, things would have gone much differently. She would have made a real seduction of it. Shaved her legs. Done a special job of applying her makeup. She would have brought some sexy lingerie instead of wearing cotton undies that didn't match her bra. She would have lighted candles and put on some mood music. Bought plenty of condoms.

Condoms. Oh no. Was that going to be a deal breaker?

He sauntered toward her.

Her heart rate jacked up. She held up a stop-sign palm. “Wait.”

He froze to the spot and his eyes clouded. “Change of heart?”

“Protection.” She said it like a smart modern woman. It had been so long since she'd felt sexy and in control. “You got any?”

The crooked smile overtaking his mouth was pure rascal. “Babe, they don't call Delta Force The Unit for nothing.”

“Are you saying you're all a bunch of pricks?” she teased.

He burst out laughing. “What language, Ms. Sommers.”

“You started it with the sexual innuendo.”

“So I did.” He stepped closer. “To answer your question.” He whipped his wallet from his back pocket, opened it up, and a condom dropped into her lap.

Picking it up between two fingers, she said. “Do you think this will be enough?”

“Gotta box of them in my room.”

Boldly, she reached out her right hand, hooked it around his back, and pulled him to her until the bulge in his jeans nestled against her zipper.

Smooth as silk, he reached for the top button on her shirt, but he fumbled a bit with his left hand. Beneath the shadow of dark stubble at his jaw, a muscle clenched. He was embarrassed about the missing finger.

She took his big hand in both of hers, bent her head, and kissed the scar where his index finger used to be.

“Meredith.” He breathed her name. “This is the first time I've made love to a woman since this happened to me.”

“Not as slick as you used to be, huh?” She was teasing him again, hoping to coax out another one of those rascally smiles.

He took her chin in his hand, tilted her face up, rested his forehead on hers, and looked deeply into her eyes. “None of that slickness with you, babe. Between us it's always going to be honest.”

Bowled over by the intensity in his gaze, she reached for light and flirty. “I don't warrant razzle-dazzle?”

“I never said that.” He growled, and with his forehead still pressed to hers, pushed her all the way back onto the bed.

She stared up at him, one leg hanging off the bed, the other wrapped around his waist as he straddled her, a knee dug into the mattress on either side of her. His rock-hard erection pressed against her crotch, his inscrutable eyes drilling into her.

For one terrified moment Meredith panicked. She rammed the heel of her palm into his chest and shoved him off.

H
utch staggered back. After what she'd told him about her ex, he'd been afraid of this. Apparently, he wasn't the only one in the house with PTSD flashbacks.

“It's okay,” he said before she ever spoke. “I get it.”

She sat up shaking her head and wrapping her arms around herself. “I don't know why I did that. I want you. I want to be with you.”

“We don't have to do this tonight. There's no rush.”

“But I
want
to do it.”

“We can't force this. You're ready when you're ready.”

“Why not? It took the trauma of seeing Dotty Mae about to crash into the snow fort with Ben in it to force you to speak.”

“That's different.”

“Is it?”

“I don't want to make love to a woman who is just gritting her teeth to get it over with.” Truthfully, as badly as he wanted her, part of him was still trying to process the fact that he had gotten his voice back. He was happy about that, yes, but was he using sex with Meredith to bury his feelings?

Hutch ran a palm along his jaw. He sure as hell wasn't ready to think about that, much less dissect it in a lengthy conversation.

“I want to try,” she insisted.

“How about we just lie here side by side.”

“I don't think that's enough for me.”

“There's no rush, babe,” he soothed. He wanted to touch her again, but was afraid he'd trigger something dark from her past again. “I'm not going anywhere.”

She swallowed and scooted across the mattress.

He sank down beside her.

Simultaneously, they lay back on their pillows and stared up at the ceiling.

“I hate him,” she said with so much fury that Hutch startled. “He took everything from me. Even this.”

“No. He did not take this. He's not getting this,” Hutch reassured her. “He's not getting us.”

“I'm broken.”

“No more so than me. It's fixable. We're fixable.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

“This morning I didn't think I was fixable and look at me now. For almost four months I couldn't speak a word and here I am suddenly chatty as a teenage girl.”

She gave a soft laugh that thawed the doubt inside him. “You make me believe anything's possible.”

“Where we're concerned, it is.”

“You sound so certain.”

“Only because of you.”

“He's relentless,” she warned. “Like a shark. He'll never let me go.”

“I'll kill him.”

“And go to prison for the rest of your life over a scumbag like Sloane? No.”

“Babe, I'm Delta Force. He would disappear without a trace.”

“Seriously, you could do that?” she asked, her voice infused with awe.

“If anyone ever tried to hurt you or Ben, I would.”

“Killing isn't a good thing.”

“No, it's not,” he agreed. “But sometimes you have to defend yourself.”

“I used to think every human life had worth. Until I met Sloane.”

They lapsed into silence.

After a long time, she whispered, “He said I was a terrible lover.”

“To hell with that bastard. You know he's a sociopath. Why are you letting him get inside your brain?”

“Because he's an expert at it.”

“What about before you met him? What about the other men you were with?”

She hitched in a deep breath, cutting it into two clear, distinctive parts, inhaling first deep in her belly, and then hitching in more air to fully fill her lungs. “That's just it. I was never with anyone else. I was a virgin when I got married.”

Aww, damn, babe, no
. “So you've only had bad sex.”

“Cruel sex,” she clarified. “I don't know any other way.”

“He forced you to do things. Hurt you.”

She didn't answer.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said quietly, giving her no hint of the rage in his heart for the sadist who'd treated such an exquisite woman so horribly. Castration was too good for the bastard.

Hutch stretched out his arm between them, palm up, and waited to see if she would take his hand. She didn't hesitate. Her palm landed on top of his and he interlaced their fingers, chaining them together.

After a while she said, “Maybe we should take off our jeans. Get comfortable.”

“Are you sure?”

“You don't have to keep asking me that.”

“Yes I do.”

“All right then, yes, I'm sure.”

She let go of his hand—leaving him lonely—stood up with her back to him, and shyly eased off her jeans.

He probably shouldn't have been ogling, but he couldn't help himself. The soft gray light coming through the window cast her in a dusty glow. He watched her slip her pants down over her legs, and he sucked in his breath at the sight of her pink bikini panties. Not just because she was full-on the sexiest thing he'd ever seen, but because he was beginning to fear he could not live without her. He would find a way to convince her that she and Ben were safe here with him, that they were cherished and loved. That he would protect her with his dying breath.

She turned back to him. “Now this isn't fair. I'm half naked and you're still wearing your pants.”

He didn't bother standing up, just arched his back and reached a hand to the snap of his jeans. He flicked it open with his thumb, slid down the zipper.

Her gaze tracked his movements as she moistened her lips.

“You gonna watch?”

“You watched me.”

He laughed. “So I did.”

“Here, I'll even help.” She went to the foot of the bed, grabbed hold of the cuffs of his pants, yanked them off, and tossed them casually over her shoulder. “That's better,” she said. “You comfortable?”

“As comfortable as a guy can be with a massive hard-on.”

Her gaze flicked to his erection, but she quickly looked away. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize. I was merely stating a fact. I don't expect you to do anything about it.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed, and eased back down on the bed beside him.

This time, she was the one who extended her arm between them, palm up.

He didn't leave her hanging.

Kiss her
. The words lit up his brain in neon red, but special ops training had honed his discipline to a razor-sharp edge. No matter how hot she was, he would not push things. Her pace was her pace and he would respect that. If he had to wait twenty years for her to be ready, then, by God, he'd wait twenty years.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For being so patient with me.”

“Thank you for trusting me enough to be here with me,” he said. “For not running away.”

“I can't promise I'll stay. If Sloane comes for me, I'll have to go. I will not put you and Kimmie in jeopardy.”

He started to argue, but her fear of her ex-husband was palpable. He wasn't going to convince her that he could protect her simply by saying so. Actions spoke louder than words. Trite, yes, but losing his voice had shown him the power of that cliché.

Hutch turned on his side and pulled her into his arms, snuggling her against his body. He stroked her hair and told her the story of how he'd repaired and built on to the house with his own hands, imagining that one day he'd have a family of his own to fill it.

She told him about hot air ballooning. What it was like to rise into the sky at dawn, the air crisp and thin, the heated flames from the burners lifting the brightly colored balloons higher and higher until they caught the right current and floated in the vast silence of sky. Her voice took on a dreamy quality, as if she entered another land.

They talked for hours about things they'd been unable to say to each other before. Her voice filled with love when she spoke of Ben and how becoming a mother had changed everything. He told her about being there the day Kimmie was born. They discussed movies, books, gardening, health care, politics, religion, and travel. The only subjects they veered away from were Meredith's life with her ex, Hutch's experiences in The Unit, and Ashley's whereabouts; neither one of them wanted to sour their growing intimacy with dark discussions. Those were topics for another time.

To Hutch's happy surprise, they had a lot more in common than he imagined. They both loved sushi and crème brûlée, although not necessarily at the same meal. They agreed that Sunday afternoon was the saddest time of the week and that there was nothing more soothing than sitting on his deck at twilight watching the Brazos River rolling by. They confessed to talking to themselves out loud when working through a problem. They discovered they'd both had imaginary playmates when they were four. His had been a Native American boy with the unlikely name of Horatio. Hers had been a kangaroo called Bouncy. They were both frugal, although she admitted with a laugh that her frugality was born of necessity.

Even their dislikes dovetailed. He hated waiting in line. She loved it, because it gave her a chance to read a few paragraphs of a book on her smart phone. She hated doing laundry, he found the mindless task Zen-like. He loved to paint houses, but disliked the prep work. She loved the prep, but grew bored with painting. She liked dark meat chicken. He liked breasts.

“Of course you do.” She laughed.

He hugged her tighter, so glad to have found her. The loneliness of the kid who'd grown up without a father and a mentally unstable mother, the pain he hid behind a ready smile and his Igloo cool, stopped hurting.

Meredith. He rolled her name around in his head, a litany of all good things. Meredith.

“Hutch?” she whispered.

“Uh-huh?”

“Would you please kiss me again?”

“All right,” he said, knowing it was going to kill him to simply kiss her and go no farther, but also knowing she needed time and space before taking their relationship deeper. “But just kissing, nothing else.”

“Are you sure?”

“That's my line.” He kissed the nape of her neck.

“See how annoying it is.”

“You make a good point.”

She turned over, looked at him. “Please.”

“I've got to warn you, if you start getting too charged up, I'm leaving your bed.”

“I'll be good,” she vowed.

Yeah, but would she kept her promise? He pulled her into his arms and they kissed until their lips chapped; unhurried, dreamy kisses, intended to soothe, not kindle. But despite his restraint, the smooth, butterscotch flavor of her and the wet, sexy sound their lips made charged him up.

Need, desperate as a Hail Mary pass, coiled his body tight. He held his breath against the yearning building in his groin. Desire blasted from his pores in a sweat that smelled of testosterone. Her sweet taste lolled on his tongue, indolent and taunting.
C'mon, dontcha want more?

Of course he did. He wanted all of her.

Meredith passed the line of scrimmage, trailing her fingers down his chest to his waist.

He manacled her wrist. “Hold on there, beautiful. You're out of bounds.”

“Who says I'm playing by the rules?”

“Oh, that's funny.” He chuckled, and imitating a female voice, he said in a prissy tone, “Rule #4. You don't touch me. I don't touch you. Ever.”

She sat up, and laughing, gave his shoulder a slight shove. “I do not sound like that.”

“Hey, it was your rule.”

“And I said we could renegotiate at any time.”

“Is that what we're doing?” He lowered his eyelids. “Renegotiating?”

“It is.”

“So what are the new rules?”

“Touching is now allowed.”

“That's too vague. I need specifics.” He propped himself on his elbow and studied her. “I'm a detail-oriented kind of guy.”

She drew her knees to her chest and slipped a palm under each socked foot. She wore a red and green plaid button-down flannel shirt, red socks with Santa's face printed on them, and her pink cotton bikini panties. She looked cute as hell.

“Can I touch here?” He reached up a finger to trace her collarbone.

She gulped. Nodded.

He tracked his hand down to the top of her cleavage. “Here?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I see.” He slid his hand over to a nipple that was beaded so hard he could see it through the material of her bra and shirt. “How about here?”

“Uh-huh.” She whimpered.

His fingertips fanned out as he dragged them down her chest to her belly. “Is this okay?”

Goose bumps flared over her skin and she shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No.”

“You're trembling.”

“Am I?”

“If you're not cold, you must be scared. If you're scared, we're not going any farther.”

“Not scared.” Her gaze caressed his face. “Excited.”

“I'm trembling too,” he confessed.

“You? You're unshakable. Everyone says so.”

“Propaganda.” He held up his hand for her to see. It quivered in the air.

“If you're scared,” she mimicked him, “we're not going any farther.”

“Not scared,” he said. “Terrified.”

“Are you? What about?”

“That you'll decide I'm not really the guy you want to be with.”

“Hmm.”

“What does that mean?”

“I imagined Delta Force operators would be much cockier than this.”

“I used to be,” he admitted. “Before.”

“Before whatever happened to you in the Middle East?”

“No.” He paused and leveled her an intense stare. “Before I found you.”

Meredith did not glance away. In fact, she locked eyes with him. Her radiance shimmered like heat waves off the desert floor, so real it was almost touchable, and he caught a glimpse of heaven in her eyes. For a long moment they just stared into each other, barely breathing, not moving.