Any Given Christmas (12 page)

He leaned back and looked deep into her heavy-lidded eyes. “I want to make love to you, honey. And if you don’t say no right now, that’s what will happen.”

“But we don’t like each other.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth and felt her melt just a little. “I think we do.” He kissed her lips. Her nose. Then settled in nicely just below her ear for a long, slow lick. “So what do you think?”

“Just like I said.” She tossed the empty paper cup over her shoulder, climbed onto his lap, and wound her arms around his neck. “Dangerous.”

Dean had never been more surprised. Or more grateful. She straddled his lap, pressed her wet, naked breasts against his chest, and fed him a really hot grab-you-by-the-balls kind of kiss. He went from zero to rigid in less than a blink as their tongues touched, swirled, and caressed.

She seduced him like a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. And what she wanted was
him
.

Happy freaking New Year.

She kissed the side of his neck. Spread her hands across his chest and kissed the three puckered scars on his shoulder.

When she lowered herself until the pinkest part of her gorgeous body pressed against his throbbing erection, he considered that total permission to indulge. He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her tighter against his chest and sank into her feminine curves.

God, she was soft. He didn’t think he’d ever touched a woman so soft before. Didn’t know if he could ever touch a woman the same way again without thinking of how soft Emma Hart felt against him.

Like a feline stretching on a sun-warmed rock, she arched against him. Pure lust shot up his thighs, grabbed hold of his insides, and squeezed. He eased his head back just enough to look into her face. The moonlight glistened on her wet lips. Her beautiful blue eyes were heavy but clear. Her slightly uneven breath pressed the hard tips of her breasts into his chest. His erection nudged the entrance to her hot, slick body.

He slid his hands up her sides, cupped the weight of her breasts in his palms while his thumbs slowly brushed her nipples back and forth. The steamy water lapped the small gap between their bodies as the river behind them bubbled over a cascade of rocks on its way to the lake.

“Emma, honey?” Last chance for her to back out. “What do you want me to do here?”

She looked into his eyes, cupped his face in her hands, and pressed her mouth to his in a kiss so hot he almost quit breathing. Her kiss continued across his cheek and down the side of his throat where she sucked his sensitive flesh gently into her mouth. When she came up for air she whispered, “Me, Dean. I want you to do
me
.”

“Thank. You. God.” Permission granted, he slid his hands down her silky thighs while her mouth continued to do incredible things to his throat. He was inches from paradise. All he had to do was lift her up and onto him. And yet with Emma, he didn’t want it to be quick. He didn’t want to close his eyes, thrust into her until he came, and then send her on her merry way. He wanted to taste her, wanted her around him, over him. Hell, if he could find a way to have her inside him, he’d put her there too.

He eased her thighs apart and his thumbs found her swollen nub. He circled it and she melted against him. Her mouth broke the suction on his neck and her head dropped back with a long, contented sigh.

E
mma shuddered with the unbelievable heat of promise as Dean pressed the long, thick length of his erection against her. She settled down deeper, aching to have him inside her. Before she got too comfortable, he shifted her off his lap and up onto the rock ledge. She shivered when her butt hit the icy rock, but he warmed her when he cupped his hands beneath her bottom and kissed the inside of her thigh. Lightning shot up into her center.

“This is one of those hot and wet things I’ve dreamed about doing to you.” He kissed the inside of her thigh again, then he parted her folds and found her with his tongue.

Oh. Dear. God.

His warm tongue slid across her slick flesh. His moan vibrated against her clit. He knew exactly what he was doing and she was loving every second. He licked her, stroked her, teased her, and sucked her like a ripe, juicy peach. He loved her like there was no such thing as time. When the fireworks began to explode above the frozen lake, he lifted his head. “Can you see the fireworks, honey?”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Not… yet.”

“Then lay back.” He chuckled. “How about now?” He sucked her sensitive, swollen flesh into his mouth and rolled his tongue across the tip.

A roman candle shot off above their heads, and a warm, slow tingle started at her toes and moved up through her body. When the hot orgasm hit the target, she moaned. Loudly. “Oh… yes.” Her hips lifted from his hands. Her thighs pressed against his cheeks. “Yes. Yes. Yesssssss.”

D
ean let her float down from the cloud for just a moment, then he eased her back down into the water with him. But if he thought Emma was done, he’d be wrong.

Again, she took over, feeding him hot kisses full of passion and desire. He groaned deep in his throat as her hand circled his cock and she slid her palm down to the base and then back up to the engorged head.

“I want you, Dean,” she whispered against his mouth. She climbed back onto his lap and straddled his hips. “And I want you right now.”

He shuddered beneath her touch as she ran her hands up his chest, positioned herself, and slowly sat. As he slid into the gripping pleasure of her body, the breath squeezed from his lungs. His passion twisted into a steamy, mindless coil. He slid his hands to her waist. She felt so hot, so slick, so…

He gripped her hips to keep her in place. No time to run in the house and grab a condom. It wouldn’t work in the hot springs anyway.

Between long, wet kisses he asked, “Birth control?”

“On it.”

Another kiss. “Clean?”

“Squeaky.”

“Me too.” Either she was too far gone to care or she believed him, because she lowered herself fully until he was pressed against her cervix. “God, Emma, you feel so damned good.”

Hands gripping her waist, he controlled his thrusts by raising and lowering her onto his cock. He pushed into her with long, powerful strokes, then lifted her until just the head stayed put. Each time he sank into her again she’d moan and her inner muscles would pull him in deeper. He drove into her again and again. He lost himself inside her. Became one with her. And when he felt the tightening of her orgasm, it pulled a release from deep within his soul.

He thrust hard and a gush of liquid heat exploded around him in the most intense pleasure he’d ever known. Fire spread across his skin and his pulse pounded in his blood as he clutched her to his chest. They cried out together as a burst of red and blue exploded across the sky.

They held each other close while their hearts continued to fly. And in that moment Dean thought he just might have died and gone to heaven.

For twenty years he’d played it smart and safe. A guarded heart and reliable condoms.

Emma Hart was his first without either.

M
ornings after always came with regret.

New Year’s Day? No different.

Beyond a break in the curtains, sunrise lifted its head above the earth. Emma awoke on cool sheets, wrapped in a pair of strong arms, with her back pressed against a warm chest. Her butt was nestled against a sizeable part of Dean Silverthorne that, judging by the firmness, probably woke way before his eyes even opened.

She flicked her gaze across the shadows to the elegant bedroom decorated with rich furniture in a timeless design. Silk draperies framed a set of French doors, and against the far wall the last burning embers danced up into the chimney of a river-rock fireplace. She glanced at the door, tried to remember where she’d left her clothes, then tried not to groan. After several mind-bending orgasms in the hot springs alone, she hadn’t been coherent enough to pull them from the corral fence and bring them into the house. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks when she vaguely recalled walking down the snow-covered path to the house, wearing nothing but the arm of the man who’d given her those multiple orgasms. If she could just sneak—

“Don’t even think about it.”

Shoot.

Dean turned her on her back, leaned over her, and looked down into her face. “No regrets, Emma.”

“Easy for you to say.” She looked up into his eyes, trying to read his thoughts. “I’m sure you’re used to waking up in strange beds.”

“Actually, I’ve
never
woken up in a strange bed.”

“Am I supposed to believe that?”

“What?” His dark brows tipped together in a frown. “Doubt from a woman who trusted me enough last night to have unprotected sex?”

They’d had unprotected sex
once
. The other times he’d been covered.

When she flinched, he drew her deeper into his embrace. “We all have our moments of insanity,” she said.

“True.” He kissed the side of her neck. “And I’m so glad you decided to have yours with me. But let’s move forward, shall we?”

“I’m not sure where to go from here.”

“We could grab a bite to eat, then head back into the hot springs with a couple mugs of coffee.”

And let him see every single imperfection in stark sunlight? No way. “I might be crazy enough to skinny-dip in the dark, but there’s no way you’d get me back out there in broad daylight.”

“I promise not to stare.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“But I might drool.” He chuckled when both of her eyebrows shot upward. “Come on, I’m not that bad of a guy. I’d probably only drool a little. You’d hardly even notice.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she said, trying to scoot out from beneath him. “Not fishing for compliments here but I’m sure I’m not the type of woman you usually find in your bed.”

His serious green gaze stared down at her and searched her face. “The tabloids put it all out there so I won’t bother to lie. Yes, I’ve been with my share of supermodels. And yes, they are very beautiful. But I have never woken in my own bed with my arms wrapped around a single one. You’re my first, Emma. In many ways.”

Now why did he have to go looking all sincere?

“I don’t do this,” she protested. “I don’t have sex with random men and wake up in their beds.”

“I know you don’t, honey.” His long fingers brushed her hair away from her temple. “And that’s exactly why I don’t want you to have regrets about last night.”

Either he was a very good liar or he was honest as hell. She didn’t know him well enough to be able to decide which. He’d always been the handsome and successful hometown hero who lived a charmed life most people couldn’t even fathom. And last night, it had only taken a few paper cups of cheap champagne and one sappy idea for her to jump onto his lap. Ugh. Where had been her self-control?

She’d had sex with the man three—no, make that four times last night. And once more very early this morning before the sun even rose over the snow-covered mountain tops.

So what did that say about her? She didn’t like
him
but she liked his body?

He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Okay, so maybe she liked him a little.

Then he gave her that smile. The one she’d seen in a hundred post-game interviews. The one she’d seen grace the covers of magazines. The last place she’d ever expected to see that half good-old-boy, half man-of-the-world expression was in bed next to her on the very first holiday of the year.

Good God, what did that mean for the remaining twelve months?

S
everal hours later, after soothing Emma’s obvious misgivings and making love to her one more time, Dean woke to find the sheets next to him cold and empty. He laid there for a few minutes and waited for her to come back. When she continued to be a no-show, he got out of bed. He shoved his legs into his jeans and went in search of the woman who confused and intrigued him more than a change of signals on game day. He rambled through the big house, checking the kitchen, the bathrooms, the media room. No Emma. He finally looked out back toward the corrals. Her clothes were gone and so was her little Subaru.

Damn.

He thought he’d gained an ounce of trust with her over the past ten hours, but apparently it would take a lot more than holding her in his arms or giving her multiple orgasms. He looked out the window, over the wide expanse of forest and meadow that now belonged to him, and wanted to slap himself in the forehead.

Of course it would take more than that with Emma.

The women he dated were bright and beautiful. But he’d never connected with any of them on an emotional level. Something about Emma rang a different bell.

After a quick shower, he dressed in whatever clothes he could find, grabbed his keys, and was out the door in less time than it took to huddle his team. He backed his mother’s bomber out of the garage and sped toward town. With one small detour, he turned up the radio and headed straight for Spotted Fawn Avenue. From the crackling speakers Tom Jones sang a
whoa-ho-ho
, and Dean waited for the inevitable.

“You’re whistling.”

Ah, and there she was. Dean smiled. No matter how much he thought he had it together, the persistent appearance of his dead mother proved he was never too far from a dance with the dark and crazy side. “Am I?”

“Happy about something?”

“The sun is shining,” he said, keeping the car on the road. No need anymore to turn around to check who was in the seat behind him. “It’s a beautiful day.”

“Sleep well?”

“Didn’t sleep much at all.”

Icy air swirled through the interior of the car. “Oh, do tell,” she said, her voice much closer now. “What had you up all night?”

“How much do you follow me around?”

“Oh, not at all. I’m not allowed to be a Peeping Tom.
Somebody
takes all the fun out of the ability to pop about without getting caught. What do you think all those ghost shows are about?”

He chuckled. “You sound disappointed.”

“You bet I am. I didn’t know there’d be so many restrictions on the other side. But there are definite rules, and if you break them you have to answer to
him
.”

“God?”

“Don’t be silly. He’s too busy for mischief makers like me.”

“So who’s
him
? And where do you go when you’re not cruising around in the back seat of your piece-of-crap car?”

“I believe answering those questions would break rule number four. And since I’m still doing penance for breaking rule number three, I reserve the right to keep my big yap shut.”

Dean laughed. “I miss you, Mom.”

A sudden cold settled on his bad shoulder and eased the ache still throbbing from his nighttime activities. Not that he minded those activities.

“And I’m so glad you’re home,” his mother said. “Otherwise we’d miss the opportunity for these little visits.”

“You do realize I’ll have to leave soon, though. Right?”

“We’ll see. In the meantime, tell me what has you whistling like a meadowlark.”

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror. He couldn’t see her. Couldn’t see her glow in the bright sunlight, but he knew she’d be illuminating pink in about ten seconds. “I bought a house.”

“Thought you already had one in Houston.”

“I have a high-rise condo in Houston. I bought a
house
. Specifically I bought the Clear River Lodge.”

“Oh goodness, that’s a big one.” The excitement in her voice elevated several levels. But if I know you like I think I do, you’ve got some big plan in your head. Am I right?”

He loved the enthusiasm in her voice. She’d always been 100 percent behind him. He hoped she’d be just as on-board now. As he told her of his plans for the charity organization and camp, she remained silent. The longer he took to explain, the quieter she got. He wondered if maybe she wasn’t happy about his plans at all. Maybe she didn’t think he could pull it off. Or maybe she’d just popped out of there.

“You’re the one who taught me the importance of charity, Mom, so I’m naming it the Leticia Silverthorne Sunshine Camp.”

Still no response.

“So what do you think?”

A cool tingle materialized on his right cheek and he knew he’d just been granted a kiss.

A sigh whispered through the air.

“I think I have the most wonderful son in the world. And even though you’re this big rough-and-tough football player, I’m so glad you still listen to my advice.”

“Which was?”

“I told you to remember that life was about more than football. That
you
were about more than football.”

“Even when I’ve got one foot in the grave, football will still be a huge part of my life, Mom. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to pull this off. It’s a full-time commitment, and I’m already committed to a $48 million three-year contract with the Stallions.”

“That’s absurd.”

“With a $10 million signing bonus.”

“Whew! Hard to make that kind of cash at the Gas and Grub.”

“Pretty much.”

“You’ll work it out, Son. I’ve never known you to not get everything you wanted.”

He knew she meant well, but that was the biggest pile of crap he’d heard in a long time.

If he could have everything he wanted, his mother would still be alive instead of hanging out in ghost form in an old Buick. He’d never have been drilled into the turf on Thanksgiving Day. And right now he’d be warming up on the field, ready to kick his opponent’s ass.

Instead, he was about to bust down the door of the Sugar Shack.

W
hen Dean rolled up in Emma’s driveway, he found her car parked by the garage. He grabbed the box on the seat beside him. Several long strides later he rang the doorbell. No answer. He pounded on the door. No answer. Now why did she want to go ignoring him? They’d had a great time last night. Hadn’t they?

He pounded harder and shouted, “Emma? I know you’re in there. Answer the door.”

Irene Evans, the woman who checked groceries at Gridley’s Market, which sold not only canned peas but firearms and fishing worms, stepped out of the house next door.

“Dean Silverthorne?” She squinted against the bright sunshine and planted her fists on her well-padded hips. “Is that you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Evans.” Guilt rolled through him as though he’d just stolen a pack of Double Bubble.

“Why are you making such a fuss?” she asked.

“Um… Emma isn’t answering her door and I…” He held up the pastry box.
Nice save, Silverthorne.
“I brought her some muffins from the bakery.”

“Well, she’s in there. Saw her come home just a bit ago. Give her a few danged minutes. No sense pounding on the door like the dogs of hell are after ya. Some of us are hung over from the hoedown at the Grange last night.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Evans.”

As the neighbor disappeared back into her house, he lifted his knuckles to knock on Emma’s door again. The door creaked open. Half-hidden, Emma stood there with a plush pink towel wrapped around her shapely, flushed body and knotted right between her perfect breasts. Her blond hair hung in wet, wavy strands around her shoulders, and she smelled like a strawberry and peach parfait. His mouth watered. His fingers itched to toss aside the pastry box and unwind her from that towel so he could get his hands all over her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as though she hadn’t just been in his bed.

“I came to see why you ran off.” He held up the box. “And I brought you muffins.”

“The muffins are welcome.” Her perfectly arched brows pulled together as she reached for the pastry box. “You, I’m not so sure about.”

“Aw, come on.”

“Pouting doesn’t work well for you,” she said, then stepped away from the door. “But you can come in anyway.”

He walked through the doorway and was met by the glare of Oscar, the evil elf cat, sans costume, and a living room now void of Emma’s plethora of Christmas decorations. “Wow. You work fast. By Valentine’s Day we were all begging my mom to take down the Christmas stuff.” He closed the door behind him and watched her walk half-naked toward the kitchen.