Mistletoe & Hollywood (11 page)

I cried out as his hand pushed into my jeans and between my legs.

“Fuck,” he groaned as his fingers found me ready for him.

Breath was hard to come by, and my chest heaved as my body ached and throbbed. Completely lost in the moment, I helped him push down my jeans to my thighs and reached behind me to help him. Seconds later my hands were on a worn wood stair tread, and I screamed loudly as Jack pushed his hard length into me.

“Holy shit,” Jack choked out. “Baby, I’m sorry, shit.”

I had no words. Did he think he’d hurt me? Maybe he had, the ecstasy and arousal was so sharp it was painful. But the feel of him inside me, with nothing between us, was almost too much to think about without losing it. Did he feel the same? I rocked back, only able to articulate a keening and needy sound at the raw sensation.

“Oh, God.” Jack hissed and took my movement and returned it. “You feel so good. I can’t…”

“More,” I was finally able to whisper.

He thrust into me, and I thrust back desperate for more. For him. For everything he had. And he gave it. His hands gripped my hips, my hair, my breasts. The loss of his control, his roughness, the knowledge of how much he craved me, threw me toward a shattering climax within seconds.

I tensed, my knuckles white on the step as the shattering wave rolled through me. I knew when Jack felt it, I knew when he let go too, joining me in wave after wave of it. The sound he made seared into my heart.

The entire thing was over in minutes, and we were in a tangled sweaty heap against the stairs.

Not even halfway up.

I giggled even as I tried to catch my breath.

Jack laughed too, dropping a clammy forehead to my neck. “Wow,” he breathed and dropped a kiss to the sensitive skin below my ear. “Um. Sorry?”

“Don’t be sorry. That was… uh, intense.”

“No shit.” He drew away and pulled me with him, helping haul my jeans back up. Then I was in his arms, being carried up the stairs. “Let’s move this to a bed.”

WE SPENT THE
rest of the afternoon and most of the evening in bed. Jack couldn’t seem to get over the feeling of being inside me. “I think,” he said at one point, as he lay cradled between my legs, inside me but not moving, “I’ll just stay like this forever.”

“I guess you could do voice-over work,” I deadpanned.

“Yes,” he stated with surprise at my incredible idea. “Fantastic.”

“But what will
I
do?”

“You mean you don’t want to just lie there doing nothing?”

“Ha ha.”

He started to rock inside me gently. “Even when it feels like this?”

I bit my lip.

He dropped his head, curving his back so his mouth could reach my breast. The angle caused his hips to grind more fully into me.

My breathing stumbled.

“Or like this,” he murmured, flicking his tongue over my nipple and catching it lightly with his teeth.

“Well, when you put it that way,” I gasped. I drew my legs up and wrapped them around his back.

Jack’s eyes found mine, dark lids lowered, a smirk playing round his mouth. “I love you, Keri Ann,” he said, his smile falling from his mouth. “So much.”

I closed my eyes briefly, drawing his words into me. “I love you too, Jack.”

“Do those words ever seem inadequate for how you feel?”

“Always,” I answered.

Levering his upper body up, he took my hands palm to palm and pressed them into the mattress. His knees found purchase and he rocked deeper into me. The bed squeaked and groaned under our movements. My ankles stayed locked around him.

“One day,” he rasped, the flush of arousal glowed from his skin and darkened his eyes. “One day, when I’m inside you and I let go, I’m going to be thinking about the magic of creating a baby inside you and how me loving you like this can create something so amazing.”

The depth of emotion on his face, in his eyes, had me swallowing my heart back down my throat.

“I want that with you one day, Keri Ann. I want everything with you.”

My chest filled up at his words. Even though I knew his use of the words,
one day
, belied the fact he was thinking of it even now, I knew he would wait with me. Wait until I was ready. Until
we
were ready. It was such a
certain
feeling, I wondered why I’d freaked out yesterday morning when I thought he was bringing our future up.

“I want everything with you too, Jack,” I vowed and imagined I could see the promise enter his heart.

We moved together gently.

Rocking slowly.

Breathing as one.

And falling in tandem.

“IT’S CHRISTMAS,” I
squealed. “And it’s snowing. Wake up!”

Jack groaned and rolled over next to me. I was sitting up in the small twin bed in the Blue Room peering out the window next to me. The landscape was bleached white under a thin layer of snow while more flurried against the windows. “Merry Christmas, Dork,” he chuckled sleepily.

“Your dork,” I corrected.

“Yes,” he conceded. “All mine.”

Since Charlotte and Jeff had returned from London a few days ago, we’d taken to sleeping wrapped around each other in the single Blue Room bed since we discovered it was solid as a rock and didn’t make a sound. Although,
we
still couldn’t make any noise. It had made for an intense few stolen moments over the days leading up to Christmas.

“It’s snowing! How can you not be excited about that? I’ve never seen snow. I’ve never even seen it falling. I’ve never touched it.”

Jack opened his eyes and squinted. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” I said.

“Well, shit.” He sat up, the sheet falling to reveal his beautiful naked chest, then swung his legs out the side. “We better remedy that immediately.”

“Thaaaank you,” I drawled with a massive grin, pleased he was finally getting the importance of the situation. I planted a kiss between his shoulder blades.

We flung our clothes on, and I took the stairs two at a time, almost breaking my neck when I slipped three from the bottom. Luckily Jack was right behind me and grabbed my sweater in a lightning fast reflex. “Bloody hell, you minx. You just scared the living crap out of me. Slow down already.”

“Listen to you, so
bloody
British. Thank you, Sir Jack,” I quipped, but my heart pounded from my near disaster.

We bundled into our wellies and Barbour jackets, and Jack grabbed our gloves out of the basket by the front door.

I was literally a giddy child on Christmas morning as I flung open the front door into the blast of cold winter morning.

Jack hauled me back into the doorframe mid-rush and planted a kiss on my lips.

“What?” I asked impatiently.

“Mistletoe,” he mumbled, nodding to where he’d tacked it above the front door. “Won’t ever pass it up.”

God, he was cute.

I huffed and grinned at him, then dragged him by the hand outside and around the house, marveling at the tracks of our boots pressed into the fresh unmarred snow. I let go his hand and turned in a slow three sixty. “We’re in a snow globe,” I whispered with awe. For a moment, I stopped and stood there feeling the icy pings drop as they flared briefly on my skin and melted to water.

“Taste them,” Jack said and tilted his head back and put his tongue out.

Laughing, I did the same. The tiny frigid drops pinged on my tongue. They melted to a minuscule amount of water, and the flavor was vaguely… dusty. “Well, they don’t taste as awesome as they look,” I said.

“Hmm, a uniquely, coal-mining-town flavor,” said Jack. “With a northern flair. Newcastle, perhaps?”

“Well, the water evaporates into the air from somewhere,” I said with a chuckle. “You could be right.”

Jack leaned down and used two hands to scrape some snow together, leaving an exposed strip of dark grass. “Now, if it’s sticky snow, we’re in luck.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, and then registered the mischief in his eyes. “Oh no you don’t,” I squealed and turned and ran toward the lawn at the front of the house.

Jack followed at a slow amble, packing his snowball and giving me time to scrape my own together. I was useless, and he had perfect aim. The first one hit me square in the chest, exploding cold snow over my neck and down into my collar.

“Yikes,” I screeched. “That’s cold.”

I raced toward him instead of throwing my ball, and as soon as he caught me in a hug, I attempted to stuff the snowball down the neck of his jacket. We wrestled, falling to the ground. We were laughing our heads off and grabbing determined fistfuls of snow, most of which ended up in each other’s faces before they had a chance to breech each other’s protective clothing.

Finally, we were cold and starving for breakfast and made our way inside, stamping our boots at the door. Jack stole another kiss from me in the doorway, and we floated back into the warmth of the house. The smell of coffee, cinnamon, and pine logs smoldering in the living room fireplace caused a huge wave of happiness to wash over me. It was almost time for presents.

“MORNING YOU TWO.
Merry Christmas.” Charlotte nodded at us with a smile and blew over her tea. “Go on and sit by the Aga. Warm up before we exchange gifts.”

“Merry Christmas,” we both greeted them. We were damp and cold from our snowball fight.

Charlotte looked fantastic, as she always did. Her dark hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and even makeup-free she was beautiful. She wore a set of red, green, and blue button-down plaid pajamas.

Jeff vacated his seat near the Aga, motioning Jack and me to sit down. An early bird, he was already dressed in worn jeans and a cream Aran sweater. “Come on. Sit down. Tea or coffee? You both look frozen. Happy, but frozen.”

Happy.

So freaking happy.

For the first time since I was a child, I felt a sense of utter completeness. I know I wasn’t spending Christmas with Joey, or even seeing Jazz for that matter. Nana was gone, and Mrs. Weaton had been invited by Paulie at the Grill to spend Christmas with his extended family up in Okatie. But somehow, without even knowing how much I needed it, I’d found something better than I’d ever imagined. I was in a family. Jack’s family. Did Jack understand how lucky he was? Because I felt very, very lucky.

“Tea for me, please.” I was becoming addicted to the stuff. I had a predisposition to tea, being from the south, but this was served hot, not iced, and I was beginning to crave it.

“Coffee,” said Jack. “Thank you.”

Jack’s gifts over the last few days had gotten a little more grandiose, but I was trusting he wouldn’t pull out an engagement ring this morning. The day after Hastings, he told me he’d adopted a sea turtle in my name at the Sea Turtle Rescue Center on Jekyll Island, in coastal Georgia. Three mornings ago, he’d given me a gold bangle with a small collection of charms hanging off it that Jack said were symbolic of our relationship. There was a sea turtle, a tiny piece of sea glass, and a circular pendant that had J&KA stamped on it. It was so pretty. I adored it and had worn it almost every moment since.

The next day he’d presented me with a bundle of papers tied in a red grosgrain ribbon. Before he let me undo them, he’d sat me down in front of the fireplace in the living room with a mug of Brandy eggnog. He talked about Max’s place and how amazing it was when historical homes were turned into places the modern traveler could visit. He was a renovation buff, so I totally bought his interest in the concept, even though I was confused by his weird tangent. The papers turned out to be the tax liens against the Butler Family home. Jack had paid them all off and had them released so we could stop worrying about losing the house for a while.