Love at First Snow: A Christmas Miracle (5 page)

Together they walked to the kitten. Blake
watched as Sarah gently checked the little cat’s vitals, gave it
food and water, and tucked it back in its bed. Purring up a storm
and with a full belly, the kitten closed its eyes and fell back
asleep.

“I’d better be going.” Sarah took a few
steps back, as if trying to put some separation and sanity between
them. But Blake didn’t want sanity. He wanted to go back to the
place they’d visited a few minutes ago, a place without
gut-wrenching grief, a place he felt at home.

“It’s almost a whiteout.”

“I know. That’s why I need to leave before
it gets worse.” She walked across the room to grab her coat. It was
slung over a chair. Cyrus sat up and watched them from his spot in
front of the fireplace.

Blake dogged Sarah’s heels, feeling like a
lonely puppy himself. “I don’t think it can get much worse. How far
do you have to go?”

“The opposite end of the island.”

“You can’t drive. With all this snow, it’s
too dangerous, and you’ve been drinking.”

Her coat clutched in her hand, she seemed to
consider. “I don’t know. I—”

“You told me you don’t have anywhere you
need to be tonight. How about a rum cake encore?” He was begging,
but he didn’t give a shit. He’d never begged a woman to stay
before, but he was begging her. Hell, any second he’d drop to his
knees. He was so pathetic. “Look, your dog doesn’t even want you to
go.” He pointed to Cyrus, who’d laid back down in front of the
fire.

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. If she
stayed, they’d end up in bed. He knew that. So did she. There was
nothing he wanted more than to cuddle up under a pile of blankets
and the down comforter in the big bed in the master bedroom with
her next to him, though, watching the snow fall outside and
listening to the fire crackle inside.

He grabbed her hand, held it tightly. “Stay
with me tonight.”

She chewed on her lower lip, glanced out the
window then back at him, clearly waffling between staying and
leaving. Shameless man that he was, he cranked up the pressure.

“Please. It’s Christmas Eve. Not the night
to be alone.”

“We’re strangers,” she said.

That argument didn’t carry any weight with
him, no more than he suspected it did with her. “Do you really feel
that way? I don’t. It’s as if I’ve always known you, Sarah
Whitney.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes, squeezing
his arm. “If that’s the line you use on all the girls, you’d better
get a new writer.”

“It’s not a pickup line. You know that.” And
so did he. He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms—where
she belonged, and not just for tonight.

She didn’t resist. In fact, her deep sigh
revealed the contrary. She wanted this as much as he did. He
slanted his mouth down on hers. The gentle, persuasive kiss ignited
like a puddle of gasoline and a spark, and soon Sarah’s mouth
opened to his demands and he lost himself in the taste and feel of
her. His world spun around him as he molded her body to his, and
the heady sensation of hope filled him for the first time in four
years.

She clung to him, giving back as good as he
gave, her mouth as desperate as his. Her fingers dug into the back
of his head, pressing him closer. He backed her against the kitchen
counter and slipped his hands under her shirt. She made no move to
stop him. A throaty moan was encouragement.

Blake closed his eyes and savored the feel
of her silky skin. He ran the rough pads of his calloused fingers
up her rib cage and slid them over the rounded mounds of her
breasts, and her nipples hardened under her bra as he stroked them.
She shuddered with pleasure. He groaned, totally adrift in the
scent and feel of her, a strange combination of cinnamon and
antiseptic, so uniquely this woman that he’d never look at a can of
first-aid spray the same way. Who’d have thought antiseptic could
be a turn-on?

Lifting her, he carried her upstairs to the
loft bedroom with its huge four-poster bed and rock fireplace
opposite the wall of windows. He didn’t bother with a light, but
the Christmas lights from the living room below twinkled merrily
across the room while the holiday music floated up as well.

For a moment after he set her down, he
stared at her with sensations so strong that their intensity almost
brought him to his knees. She lay on his bed, staring up at him.
Her face was flushed with the heat of passion, her lips swollen
from his rough kisses. A small smile crossed those lips.

She held out her arms. “Come to me.”

He laughed. “I’d be glad to.” Coming
happened to be exactly what he had in mind.

* * * * *

Sarah held her breath as Blake pulled his
sweater over his head. A tattoo of a hockey player featured his
navel as a puck. His rock hard abs gave way to an impressive chest
and broad shoulders, and on his right forearm was a Stanley Cup
tattoo with the year. Another tattoo on his left forearm featured a
broken heart and several names, obviously a tribute to his family,
and the sight just about broke Sarah’s own heart.

She held out her arms again, and he moved
into them. The mattress sank under the weight of his body as lay
next to her. Sarah hooked her leg over his hips and moved against
him. His mouth came down on hers as he held her tight. Their breath
came in short gasps as they kissed each other with equal
fervor.

His erection pressed against her thigh, hot
and hard. She so wanted him inside her, deep inside, stroking all
those secret places she instinctually knew he’d be able to find.
And find them he soon did, stroking and licking his way along her
body, undressing her as he went. Before she knew it, she was spread
out before him, open and vulnerable, squirming for all she was
worth and aching for more. Her body burned where he’d kissed and
licked, which was just about every nook and crevice.

She whimpered when his heavy body moved away
and left her cold and wanting. Turning her head, she saw him
standing next to the bed shucking off his jeans and underwear. Oh,
Lord, he was magnificent from his feet to his muscular calves and
thighs to the most impressive thing of all. In fact, that was
impossibly
impressive. It stood tall, erect and was wishing
her a very merry Christmas.

She reached out and touched the velvety tip.
Blake sucked in his stomach. His eyes dilated until the blue-gray
almost disappeared.

He opened the nightstand and rummaged around
for a condom. Pulling one out, he ripped open the package and
rolled it onto his cock. Sarah was torn between being glad he had a
supply of protection in this house and being disappointed that she
obviously wasn’t the only woman he’d brought here. That
disappointment faded when he lowered himself back onto the bed and
knelt between her splayed legs.

Oh, boy. Oh, oh, boy
.

Supporting his upper body with his arms, he
slowly slid himself inside her. He was larger than she was used
to—not that she was used to much of anything anymore—but he took it
slow and gentle, giving her body time to adjust. Adjust she did,
welcoming him inside as he buried himself inch by glorious
inch.

Meanwhile, his blue-gray eyes enslaved her
with fantasies turned to reality. How such a large powerful man
could be so gentle she couldn’t fathom, but he was, even though she
knew it took a toll on him. The strain of holding back etched deep
lines on his face, and he bit his lower lip in concentration then
ducked his head to capture her mouth as he took complete possession
of her body. She was his from every hair on her head to all ten
toenails.

With torturously slow strokes he moved
inside her. Sarah wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her
heels into his fine butt, and arching her back she raised her hips
to meet his thrusts. His eyes met hers, and she slipped into the
most wondrous, incredible place, a private place just for them.
Despite only knowing him a few hours, she’d known him for
lifetimes, and she’d waited all her life for this. For
him
.

Such romantic notions rarely entered her
private thoughts, yet they swirled everywhere in her brain now. A
whirlpool of feelings wrapped around them both and pulled them
downward, deeper and deeper, until that warmth entirely enveloped
them.

A few more thrusts and they both balanced
precariously on the edge of something new and frightening. Staring
deep into his eyes, Sarah saw her answer. She dug her proverbial
toes into the edge of the precipice, pushed off, and sailed with
him into the unknown.

Chapter 6—All I Want for Christmas

Blake couldn’t move, not even a toe. He’d
been paralyzed, his body melted down to bare emotions, his brain
unable to form any coherent words. Sarah lay next to him, eyes
closed, breathing steady. The blinking of the Christmas lights
below reflected off her smooth skin. God, but she was beautiful.
He’d never formed an instant connection to any woman until her.
Now, in just a few hours, she’d become as crucial to him as
breathing. If Blake had been prone to drug use, he suspected making
love to Sarah would beat any artificial high known to man. In fact,
it rivaled winning the Stanley Cup—which was both pretty damn
amazing and shitfaced-scary at the same time.

Something warm and fuzzy tickled his nose
while a buzz saw sounded in his ear. Turning his head, he came face
to face with the kitten sound asleep on the pillow next to him. The
little thing must be feeling a lot better to have made it upstairs
without help.

Sarah blinked a few times then opened her
eyes. An easy smile crossed her face.

“Merry Christmas,” Blake said.

“Merry Christmas to you. What time is it?”
She glanced around as if looking for a clock.

“Two in the morning.”

“Oh.” She sat up and stared outside. “It’s
still snowing.”

“We’ll be snowed in until spring. Not such a
bad thought, if you ask me. Not if we keep doing what we did.” He
grinned and nodded to the bundle of fur on the pillow. “Of course,
the kitten joined us.”

Sarah reached for the cat and cradled the
little guy in her arms. “He’s doing great,” she said. “I should
take him back downstairs and feed him a little more.”

“Then come right back up,” he told her. “I’m
not ready for this night to end.”

She nodded and hurried downstairs with the
kitten, and he heard her talking to Cyrus briefly, but she returned
a few minutes later. Standing next to the bed, she stared at him.
“Blake, I—”

Aw, hell, not regrets. No way.
He
didn’t have one regret about their night together. “Please don’t
say it. I’d do this over again and again given the chance.”

She looked surprised. “Did you think I was
going to say I was sorry for what happened?”

“Maybe.”

“Not me. I’m…I’m a little humbled by our
time together.”

Blake couldn’t have said it better. “You and
me both. So, how about we do some more humbling?”

“Let’s do,” she said.

He rolled her onto her back and rained
kisses across her neck, and when Blake’s mouth came down on hers,
he forgot his name, his past, and everything that had ever made him
sad. He forgot everything but the joy that Christmas and a small
gray kitten had brought him.

* * * * *

Sarah woke to the morning sun in her eyes as
it streamed in the windows. The snow outside only intensified the
brightness. It was blinding.

She felt the sheets for Blake. His side of
the bed was still warm, but a few seconds later her nostrils were
filled with tantalizing smell of bacon and eggs wafting up from the
kitchen below. Sarah smiled to herself, threw on one of Blake’s
overlarge t-shirts and padded downstairs. She hadn’t realized how
much was missing in her life until she’d spent these few short
hours with him. She needed to know where he was coming from, needed
a few questions answered—but all in due time. It was Christmas
Day.

“Good morning.” He grinned at her as he
flipped the eggs in the frying pan. “Hungry?”

“Starving. I worked up quite an appetite
last night.”

“So did I, and I’m ready to do it
again.”

The kitten lay nearby, on the back of an
overstuffed chair with a good view of the kitchen and some birds
perched on the deck railing. Sarah dished up some soft food for
him, and the cat jumped down to make short work of his chow. She
watched him for a few minutes, glad to see him feeling so well. He
stared up at her, licked his chops, and curled up in his box for a
nap.

Sarah turned back to Blake, pleased. “He’s
doing really well. Much better than expected, considering he was on
death’s door yesterday.”

“You’re a great doctor,” Blake said.

“You’re a pretty good nurse.”

He laughed. “Hey, I aim to please.”

Soon Blake dished up a hearty helping of
breakfast for both of them and laid the plates on the table. He
threw a couple scraps of bacon to Cyrus, too. Sarah smiled at the
way he did it. Then, sitting down, she dug right in, surprised at
how famished she was. They ate in comfortable silence, as if they
ate together every morning. It really felt right.

At last, Blake lay down his fork and wadded
up his napkin. He cleared his throat, and Sarah’s heart dipped into
her toes. She was suddenly nervous, waiting for him to issue the
death sentence to their less-than-a-day-old relationship, despite
his earlier words. Guys did that, right? They got claustrophobic
and resisted commitments, especially men dealing with a loss like
Blake’s. Last night had been too easy, too wonderful. Too
magical.

What he said next surprised her: “I don’t
normally do this.”

“Do what? Bring women here?”

“Yeah. I want you to know that this is…is
special to me.”

She couldn’t help herself; skepticism crept
into her voice. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that
he felt as she did, but it all seemed so impossibly perfect. Why
should true love fall out of the sky and find them? Why would one
wonderful night mean a lifetime of happiness and joy? She’d be
silly to assume that all her dreams were reality.