Christmas Break (3 page)

Through lowered lashes I glanced at Brax to
see if he appeared as uncomfortable as I was. He studied the menu
like he could actually read it. A lock of tousled brown hair fell
across his forehead. Without thinking, I lifted my hand and brushed
it away.

He looked up, his intense gaze in direct
conflict with his lighthearted grin. Our eyes locked, and he sucked
me into his spell, deep into the vortex of a world foreign to the
one I’d grown up in. I wanted to stay that world for as long as I
could, even though it might only be a short while.

“I don’t speak French, and this menu doesn’t
speak English,” I said.

He didn’t grimace at me like I was some
uncouth backwards chick. Instead, he nodded. “What do you like to
eat?”

“Chicken. I like chicken.”

“They have just the thing. Trust me?”

I shrugged. I never trusted anyone. Not
since Mom died.

His smile faded briefly, as if he read my
mind. His eyes searched mine and he said, “Whoever he was, I can
make you forget him.” Then he flashed his dazzling smile, as if
that would heal what ailed me.

Actually, it did. A little.

“It wasn’t a guy. Not exactly.”

His eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Not a
guy
?”

“It’s not like that.” I kicked him under the
table and he grimaced.

“I’m glad. You scared me for a minute.
Thought you might be scamming me for a free meal.”

“You think I’m not?” I teased right back,
glad to have escaped a potentially serious moment without having to
reveal my personal pain to an almost stranger.

He ordered food for us, along with a bottle
of wine. When the waiter brought it to the table, Brax did the
whole wine-tasting thing, sniffing the cork, swishing the wine, all
that stuff I’d only seen in movies.

I sipped the red wine, not caring much for
the taste despite its probable big price tag. I’d rather drink
cheap wine, myself, like white zin. Not Brax, though. He was
perfectly at home. I was so far over my head with this guy, and he
had no idea what a mess he was dealing with.

Brax studied me over the rim of his
wineglass. The candlelight flickered across his strong features as
he lifted his glass for a toast. “Happy Christmas Eve, Aubrey.”

I touched my glass to his and took another
sip. The stuff was growing on me.

“You know, I was dreading tonight until I
met you,” he said.

“You were?” I gripped the stem of the
wineglass so hard it should’ve snapped.

Brax nodded and ducked his head, almost as
if he were embarrassed, which could so not be the case. The man
flirted like a master, so this insecure act had to be one more
weapon in his overflowing arsenal. It hit the target, scoring a
bull’s-eye square in my heart. As if I hadn’t been crushing on the
guy all semester from a distance.

He toyed with his napkin and finally raised
his head. “So, tell me why a beautiful girl like you is alone on
Christmas Eve.” His brow furrowed with such genuine concern that
avoiding the question didn’t seem right.

“Too much family drama,” I said, not
interested in laying open my family dysfunction for him to
dissect.

“Oh, yeah.”

“And you? Your turn.”

He stared at a point just over my shoulder.
His jaw tensed, and his lips pursed into a thin, rigid line. “I’m
not sure. I just didn’t feel like dealing with the fam this year
either.”

“And what is it you don’t want to deal
with?” I pushed, curious to see if he’d answer.

“Don’t get me wrong. My family is wonderful.
Maybe too wonderful.” He reached across the table and caught my
hand. His own was so big. His gaze dropped to our entwined fingers.
“I don’t think I measure up most of the time.”

Now that floored me. Fucking
floored
me. “You? Not measure up? You’ve got it all. What could they
possibly find lacking?”

“They don’t find anything ‘lacking’—not that
they’ll admit to. But I know I don’t measure up.”

“I don’t understand. You’re a premier
quarterback destined for the NFL. How could they be any less than
thrilled?”

“You don’t know my family. My mom and dad
are doctors. At times they travel all over the world saving lives.
My sister’s in med school and my brother does cancer research. And
I plan on playing a game for a living.”

“Your chosen profession enriches lives,
touches people and gives them an escape from their everyday world.
That’s worth a lot.” I squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.

“I never actually thought of it that
way.”

“Then you need an attitude adjustment,
mister.”

He leaned forward until our faces were only
inches apart. “What I really need is to see those tattoos under
your dress. That’d adjust my attitude just fine.”

I met his steady gaze and channeled my inner
biker chick. “We’ll see if you earn a peek, Mr. T.”

“Give me a chance, tough girl, and I’ll earn
more than a peek.”

Right now getting naked with Brax ranked
just a little bit higher on my priority list than watching
Glee
and eating a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy
ice cream, so, yeah, I was guessing he’d earn more than a peek.

Chapter 5

The second I walked into the bar and saw
Aubrey in that tight little sweater dress I knew she’d be my
Christmas present—and I’d be hers. And watching her sip red wine
and lick a crumb of bread off her lips just about did me in before
the evening even really got started.

I was contemplating my next move to get her
in the sack when the waiter delivered our food. We ate in
comfortable silence, soft violin music floating around us, weaving
this romantic spell females love and pretty much guaranteeing I’d
be seeing those tattoos. I could hardly wait. I wolfed down my
dinner like starving man, though it wasn’t food I craved. The
faster we ate, the sooner we could start the real main course.

Aubrey toyed with her meal, only eating a
nibble. Yet, I’d seen her eat and knew she had a healthy
appetite.

“What’s up? You don’t like it?”

She looked up, her green eyes big and
innocent. “No, it’s wonderful. I guess I’m not that hungry.”

I drew little circles on her palm with my
thumb. “I am.”

She almost smiled. “I’m sure you have a
healthy appetite.”

“The healthiest.”

She held my gaze. “You want to fuck me,
don’t you?”

My thumb stopped in mid circle. I sat back
in my chair and blinked several times. I’d been propositioned
before, but never quite like that. “Uh, yeah, I want to fuck you.”
Hell, I’m a guy. What guy wouldn’t want to fuck her? She oozed
bad-girl sexuality without even trying.

Aubrey extricated her hand from mine, folded
her napkin neatly, placed it on the table and smiled. “Your place
or mine?”

“We’d better make it your place.”

I didn’t give a shit how much the meal cost.
I dropped a hundred on the table and hustled Aubrey out the door. I
loved it when a woman knew what she wanted without the prerequisite
game-playing most of them insisted on. Aubrey obviously wanted me,
and I fucking wanted her.

We trudged through the snow. About six
inches had fallen since we’d gone into the bistro, creating a
winter wonderland. All around us Christmas lights twinkled on homes
and businesses. I was feeling pretty damn festive myself.

The short trip to her house would take too
long. I had to taste her now. As she reached the car, I turned her
around. Wedging her between the passenger door and my body, I
splayed my fingers across her hips. She reached up and grabbed
handfuls of my hair, not so gently pulling my head down to hers.
She wanted it as badly as I did.

A guttural, animal-like moan escaped my
mouth as I touched my lips to hers. Her soft mouth accepted mine,
drew me in, promised me the world and then some.

My tongue danced with hers. She tasted of
red wine and the chocolate mints she’d popped in her mouth on the
way out the door. The world as I knew it detonated around me. Hell,
I’d been turned on by kissing before, but never like this. This
went beyond sexual arousal, began a trajectory to planets uncharted
in my solar system, in my universe.

Did she know how much the simple act of
kissing her yanked me off balance? She couldn’t. Kissing her shot
me into this a zone unlike any other. Incredible. Sex with her
would send me to an early grave, but damn, I wanted to go there
with her. As she sucked on my tongue, I decided living in the
mortal world was highly overrated.

My legs wobbled while my knees almost gave
out. I slid her up the side of the car; God knows where I got the
strength. Face to face, I kissed the hell out of her. Her sweet
body rubbed against mine as if she’d crawl under my skin if she
could. Truthfully, she was already there.

I don’t know how long we made out, but
regardless of the sexual heat, the icy cold of a full-on blizzard
permeated our coats. When Aubrey shivered—this time not from my
kisses—I knew it was time to get her out of the weather and me into
something more comfortable.

Like her body.

Chapter 6

After five aborted attempts to climb the
steep hill to my little apartment, Brax let his SUV slide down the
icy street.

He kept calm as it skidded sideways, hit a
curb, and finally came to rest on a sidewalk not far from the
Grizzly Den. He backed it off the sidewalk and drove into the bar’s
empty parking lot. Sitting back, he rubbed his brow.

“Fuck, that hill is a sheet of ice. We could
walk…” Brax stopped suddenly and frowned as the wind picked up and
swirled snow around us, limiting visibility and no doubt dropping
in temperature. “Maybe not. Do you have your key?” He jerked his
head toward the bar.

I nodded, not interested in trying that hill
again, on foot or otherwise.

“Let’s go inside and wait it out.”

He grabbed my hand as we struggled through
the knee-deep snow to the back door. A few seconds later we stood
inside, kicking snow off our boots.

I’d turned down the heat before we left, but
even as chilly as it was inside, it felt balmy compared to the
blizzard outside. Walking across the room, I flipped on the gas
fireplace and waved at Brax to join me. He threw off his coat and
jogged across the room.

Sitting beside me where I huddled next to
the warm fire, Brax slid my coat off my shoulders and tucked me
against his side in gesture both possessive and protective. Wow, if
this was how it felt to be Brax’s girlfriend, I wanted that job.
But I so wasn’t qualified. There wasn’t a cheerleader or
sorority-girl bone in my body. But tonight none of that mattered,
because the storm had removed every other woman from the equation.
Tonight it was all about us, and if one night was all I’d get from
him, I’d take it and be grateful.

Turning me toward him, he nuzzled my neck,
nipping here and there, marking me as his. I knew it was temporary,
but for the next several hours I’d embrace oblivious denial. I
slipped my hands under his sweater, running my palms over his
rock-hard abs up toward his pecs.

He sucked a breath through his teeth.
“You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.”

I slid my hands behind his back. “I’m
counting on it.”

He cupped my ass in his palms and pulled me
against his big body. “I want to see the rest of that tattoo,” he
said, then swallowed and licked his lips. His gaze flicked downward
to my breasts.

“Here?” Making out, yeah, I’d be up for
that, but taking my clothes off in the bar? I’m not a prude. I’ve
had my share of guys—not that I’ve slept around, but I’m
well-travelled, and I like sex. A lot. I was pretty sure I’d really
like sex with Brax. But, here? Now?

I’d be fucking crazy to agree to this, but
sanity
was
overrated. I glanced toward the windows. A layer
of snow covered the parking lot, and huge flakes swirled in the
howling wind, already covering our footsteps. Not a soul stood on
the street outside.

Extricating myself, I crossed to the door
and locked it. The click of the deadbolt rang throughout the room,
sending a message as loud as Grizzly Stadium’s PA system.

The windows presented a different problem.
They were tinted and high, but someone could still see in if they
wanted, though they’d have to walk up to the glass, slogging
through a few feet of snow.

Oh, what the fuck.

Brax must’ve been thinking the same thing.
He pulled me against him, his hot mouth on mine, all wild and crazy
with desperation and need and something deeper. Scary deep. But I
wasn’t his type. At least not on the surface. He wasn’t my type,
either, what with his tailored pants and his fancy bistros, but
tonight that didn’t matter one bit. Maybe it would tomorrow—or
maybe it wouldn’t.

His hot gaze raked up and down my body, as
heady as a physical caress. “Take it off,” he growled.

Normally I don’t respond well to orders, but
his smoldering blue eyes wouldn’t take no for an answer and neither
would my body. With trembling hands, I pulled my dress over my head
and stood before him in a lacy black bra and a black g-string—hey,
a girl had to be prepared with a man like Brax. Yet despite my
choice of underwear, a rare surge of modesty swept through me and I
fought the urge to cross my arms over my chest.

A flower garden of tattoos wound their way
from between my legs, up my stomach to my breasts, and Brax gaped
at my body art with an expression I couldn’t decipher. I held
still, afraid to move, to breathe, afraid of what he might be
thinking.

He raised his gaze to mine, his eyes burning
me with their intensity and heat. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I’m
talking about.” His voice was a reverent whisper. “You’re
beautiful.”