Christmas Male (20 page)

Very hard.

"I want to do that again," he confessed, capturing her face with both his hands, angling her to best receive his next kiss.

"I want that too," she whispered, panting, bones melting, blood singing. "Whatever you do, don't stop."

His lips met hers again. She was ready for this, craving this, she'd never been so certain of anything in her life. She parted her mouth, eager for the brush of his tongue over the top edges of her bottom teeth, for the caress of his tongue to hers. But he seemed to hesitate, his kiss turned tender as he moved out of the chair and knelt down before her. Slow movements, unhurried, but the fast hitch of his breath told her he was holding back, that he was as excited as she was.

This was her chance, she thought, as his hands brushed along her jaw and rested behind her head, cradling her. This was her one chance to know true passion. How could she resist? She moaned low in her throat, giving herself over to it. Miles deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping to meet hers, and sending sharp, pleasurable little tingles everywhere.

She shivered. She liked it and wanted more, wanted to memorize every detail. He tasted like hot chocolate, scotch and passion, and the thrill scorched her veins. More. She wanted more. He caught the tip of her tongue with his and gently sucked.

"Undress me." She choked the words out in a whisper, scandalous in the near dark.

"That was my plan," he murmured, his baritone deep and rusty, intimate. He released his hold on her and stood, towering above her in the half-light. His face was shadowed, but his stance was relaxed, his touch reassuring as he took her hand. "Come with me."

She rose automatically, not feeling like herself at all. No longer an undesirable spinster, well past her prime, she let Miles—handsome Miles—lead her to the soft carpet in front of the fire. The flames danced wildly, tossing out light and heat, creating a cozy glow. Miles tossed something to the floor (a throw pillow from the chair) and moved in to stand in front of her, cast in darkness but so real she could feel everything about him. The rapid-fire speed of his pulse, the tremble as he worked the button at her collar, the trust he was placing in her not to hurt him.

Never, she thought, her heart filling to the brim. She would never do one thing to bring him unhappiness, not for as long as she lived.

"I've never had a man undress me," she confessed, feeling bolder, braver than she'd ever been before. A sign of how much she trusted Miles. "Sorry that I had to wear the dress with the really small buttons."

"Really small buttons will not stop me." A hint of humor warmed his words, told her he was smiling as another button released. His knuckles brushed the rise of her breasts as he worked the next one.

"I've never had a man touch my bosom either." She matched his humor with some of her own. "I like it."

"This isn't touching them." Both amusement and a promise rang in his voice. "In a few minutes, I'll show you touching."

"Ooh, that's a promise I'm going to make sure you keep." She trembled as another button released, followed by another. Her entire body felt ready to melt, as if her bones were giving away. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No," he answered, swallowing the chuckle that rose up, the one that he wasn't sure was from happiness or from a sense of impending doom. Then again, maybe it was from all the scotch. He tugged the last button free at her waist, and the calico fabric sagged open, offering him a tantalizing view of her cotton covered breasts. "This is supposed to be serious. No laughing."

"Then are we doing it wrong?" she asked, her dark gaze searching his, innocent, unaware of the feelings coursing through him like a flash flood, impossible to hold back.

"Yes," he rasped, nearly beyond all self-control. He could hardly see her in the shadows, in the dark, orange-tinted light from the fireplace. What he needed was to get her on that carpet, where he could see her, see everything. Nothing else mattered. Just her. He pressed a kiss to the curve of her collarbone, tasting her satin skin. When she moaned, it moved straight through him, tightened his groin, swelled his already hard shaft. "No laughing is allowed unless I say so."

"Oh, I thought I was in charge here." Teasing, sweet as spun sugar, she caught hold of his shirt collar and released button after button. Every button. "What's fair is fair."

"I can see how this is going to go." A smile quirked the corner of his mouth, lit places that had gone dark within him. He moved in to brush the fabric off her shoulders, exposing creamy skin he had to kiss. He
had
to. He couldn’t stop now if he tried. Her arms were bare and he caught the straps of her chemise, pushed those down too until he could see the plush fullness of her breasts resting in her corset. He tugged at the laces, loosening them.

"It's been a while," he confessed. "A long while. I'm out of practice. I used to be able to get these off with a few good tugs."

"Oh, so you weren't always this irritable around women." She laughed at that.

"No," he agreed about his attitude toward women. "And I'm not irritable."

"Of course not. Sorry." Light, that voice, teasing. But beneath it hid a layer of warmth, of affection, that undid him.

Her fingertips skimmed down his bare chest, her fingernails sensual against his swirl of hair. His nipples tightened, and goose bumps traveled across his skin.

With one final tug, her corset fell away, revealing lush, full breasts so perfect, he moaned. He wanted her, he wanted to touch her and show her how good he could make her feel.

His throat tightened, a lump growing there, right beneath his Adam's apple as she quietly shimmied the folds of her dress and chemise down her hips, taking her drawers with them. Beautifully naked and unashamed, she gazed up at him through her thick lashes, an unspoken plea in her eyes.

"Make me feel wanted," she whispered, as if afraid he would say no and reject her, as if afraid he was hesitating because he didn't want to touch her. "Please."

The lump in his throat grew another notch—unfortunately right along with his manhood straining uncomfortably in his trousers. He felt the iron wall surrounding his heart melting away, remembering her confession to him. How the men in her hometown thought she was past her prime and undesirable. It killed him.

"You are so desirable." He kissed her hard, wanted to possess her, needing it with every wild beat of his heart. He kissed her with all the power and might he had in him—and all the tenderness. "I've never wanted anything more in my life than you. Not anything. Ever."

The tears in her eyes were all the answer he needed. He'd said the right thing. He'd told the honest truth. Hell, he had no more defenses left as she leaned into him, her soft mouth claiming his. A moan rose up as he gave himself over to the kiss, and before he knew it his shirt was on the floor and she was stretching out on the carpet in the reach of the fire, the light and shadows dancing over her, the way his hands longed to.

He went down on one knee, beyond the point of no control. Unbuckling his trousers, he bent over her, then stopped to grab the pillow and slip it under her head. She watched his every movement, her chest rising and falling, her pink nipples pebbled, her body writhing slightly with arousal. A strange thing happened in his chest. It warmed up, coming to life again.

"I've never seen anything more beautiful than you right now." He leaned over her and kissed her again and he felt her desire. Desire for him. That meant everything, as he nibbled her lips, then nibbled her jaw. He kissed his way down the lean column of her throat, let his tongue linger over the rapid pulse beating there, and felt her frantic need for him. Honest and true need.

He loved that there was no pretense about her. And that same sincerity was the least he could give her in return. So he let his emotions show—all that he'd been fighting to hold back—and lowered his body onto hers. Flesh to flesh, he felt her gasp of surprise and consent. The bold arch of her body against his erection, still contained in his drawers, trapping him against her belly. Smiling, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the underside of her jaw, feeling her every moan and her every breath.

He didn't know how she moved through him like a part of him, but he didn't stop. He kissed his way to her breasts, ran his tongue down the length of her breastbone and groaned as the soft slopes of her flesh brushed his jaw. When he caught one turgid peak with his tongue, drawing it into his mouth, she cried out, and he added both hands to caress her and draw out her pleasure. Her fingers wrapped around the back of his head, holding him to her, begging for more.

And he intended to give it to her. He drew her other nipple into his mouth and rolled his tongue around the puckered bud. Encouraged by her gasp of pleasure, he sucked softly at first, then harder, feeling her body move beneath him, demanding and pressing into his erection. She was hot, hot need.

So was he. He released hold of her breasts and ran his hands down her ribcage, kissing smooth, heated flesh as he went. She looked down at him, her nearly-black eyes full of want, watching as he kissed and laved his way over her belly, his arousal insistent against her thigh. Good thing there was fabric between them, he thought as he ran one hand along the heat of her skin. Maybe it was the scotch in his system, whispering at him to do the forbidden, taking down his inhibitions, but he wanted to rip off his drawers, plunge inside her and claim her as his, even if it was just for this night.

But he wouldn't ruin her. Regretfully, he pulled his fingers back, stretched out over her and rested his cheek against her belly. Oh, he wanted her, his shaft felt ready to burst, but he forced his breathing to slow. Squeezed his eyes shut until he could trust himself not to slip his hand over her stomach and into those soft curls, to pleasure her without wanting that same bliss for himself.

"Miles." Her hand settled on the back of his head, gentle, loving. Hell, that moved him—she might as well have reached inside and grabbed hold of his heart. "Why are you stopping?"

"You know why," he ground out, more in control now. This was about her. He cared about her so much. "I have to stop, but you don't."

"What do you mean?" Her forehead crinkled with thought. Then she smiled. "Oh, you're going to—?"

"Yes," he confirmed, his eyes as black as sin. "Don't worry. You'll like it."

"Oh, I know. My sister has told me all about—" She fell silent, because she was unable to speak. Her head rocked back, her thighs parted and she let out one enormous sigh of happiness at the first touch of his fingers to her unmentionables, parting her swollen folds, spreading heat and dew.
Wow, she really did like that.
Her jaw went slack. Definitely wow.
Nothing
had ever felt this good. Not ever. And she didn't want him to stop.

Eagerly, she opened to his touch, letting him discover more secret, wetter places. She lay back, all modesty gone, and let him caress her, there, where it felt so bright. Where ribbons of sharp, sizzling pleasure zinged through her, traveling outward and inward all at the same time, making it nearly too much to bear.

Except this wasn't how she wanted it. She opened her eyes, watching Miles, his face strained, his drawers straining even more beneath the pressure of what looked to be quite an impressive erection. Maggie smiled, remembering Callie's descriptions of a man's private part. All this time, Maggie had looked forward to getting this close to one, and she had to go and get Miles—a man who looked like he would rather spontaneously combust than take her virginity.

Honestly. She hadn't come this far to fail. This was her chance and for all she knew, it could be her only one. So she caught hold of his hand and lifted it from between her legs.

"As nice as this is," she said, sitting up and trying to catch her breath (impossible, as she was
really
aroused). "I want to move onto the next thing."

"The next thing?" He looked confused. His hazel eyes glowed black with desire, his bare hair-dusted chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. His forehead furrowed as he frowned. "There is no next thing. This is it. You come, and we're done."

"Oh, I don't think so." If she wanted to get an orgasm this way, then she could have done it herself. Honestly. What was wrong with the man? She sighed, blowing a lock of hair out of her eyes. Well, the bigger question was what was she going to do? Let him stay in charge and give her everything short of what she wanted? Or was she going to take matters into her own hand, so to speak?

Well, since she was completely naked in front of him, there was no sense in being shy or modest or in trying to hide how much she wanted him. With his shirt off, the firelight licked across his bronzed skin, making her want to do the same. She wanted to kiss every inch of him, lick every contour and masculine curve. Excitement fisted low in her abdomen, tightening deep, secret muscles as she let her gaze drift lower to the impressive outline of his private part straining against his cotton drawers. She could see the contour of head and shaft, and licked her lips.