The Magic Of Christmas (8 page)

This time, he did spin her around, forcing her to look at him.  "Celli, I don't know what the future holds for you.  Hell, I don't even know what it holds for me.  I'm in the same place you are, with big decisions to make, ones that will affect my life forever.  But this?  What's between us?  This isn't a part of that."

Or was it?  Drake was no longer certain.  Seeing Cecilia now, nestled in his arms, he knew that he could have easily turned down Mr. Corbin when he'd requested that the great Drake Vale bring his magic show to town for one final performance of the year.  He could have insisted that Alexandra pick a blonde from the audience, nullifying the risk that Cecilia might be the woman joining him on stage.

When he saw her flee the theater immediately after the footlights came up, he could have let her go and simply returned to his hotel and waited out the storm.  But he hadn't.  He'd had someone follow her and report back.  He'd arranged for them to meet in this back room, sending her a key and a message that he knew she couldn't - and wouldn't - ignore.

Every choice he had made, every step he had taken since he had gotten off the airplane two days ago had been driven by one thought whether he was conscious of it or not.  He wanted to see Cecilia again.  He wanted to know that she was still out there and just as perfect as he remembered.

Except that this wasn't fair to her.  She had her own life now and while she might want him, desire him as much as he desired her, she was hurt and confused, in the middle of her own big decisions to make.  He didn't want to add to her misery.

He loved her too much.

And there was the crux of the matter.

Even when he had been poor, dirty Logan Valliente, he had loved Cecilia Linden, a girl so far above him that he had never had a chance with her.  He had made her into a goddess in his mind, an ideal no real woman could match.  And right now, being here, all he was doing was hurting and confusing her - two of the last things he ever wanted.

It was time to end this madness.  It was time to end the fantasy.

Slowly, he pulled away from her and immediately, Cecilia missed the warmth of his big body next to hers.  It wasn't just physical, but something more, as if a part of her had been found and then lost again.  It hurt so much that she nearly ached from the loss.

"Go home, Celli," he said softly, his voice so smooth that it made her think of the best whiskey she'd ever had, a slow, sensual burn that she felt everywhere all at once.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to intrude on your life.  I didn't mean to make things harder for you.  All I wanted was to see you again and know that you're okay.  I can't pretend that I don't want you, but not like this.  Not when you don't know what you want.  I can't do that to you and I won't."

Drake's heart, the one he doubted that he still possessed was breaking, but he knew this was the right thing to do.  And she still stood there, looking at him with those eyes that had captured his heart the moment he had seen her.  "Go home, Cecilia.  And again, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to try to tempt you into something you weren't ready for.  I just wanted to see you again.  That's all."

There were so many things Cecilia wanted to say just then, but his face was closed, shuttered, the way it used to be after he'd been beaten by his stepfather.  Only back then, she could still read him.  He had never been able to shut her out completely.  Now he could.

This was for the best, she knew.  After all, she had come in here vowing to seal off her heart from him and not allow him to confuse her already muddled thoughts with his raw sexuality and that inexplicable pull he had always seemed to exert over her.  This was only meant to be a short conversation to see if her old friend was still around somewhere.  Despite her very physical reaction to him earlier, she hadn't really considered sharing his bed.

Or maybe she had.  She was no longer certain because she had wanted this man for longer that she could remember.  In fact, each time she took a lover, she found herself thinking of Logan.  Drake.  And those men had always been lacking.  It had always been him.  Always.

And now, he was setting her free, letting her know, even if he hadn't intended it, that he didn't want her as much as she wanted him.

Except now that she was free to leave, his spell lifting, she found that she didn't really want to go.  Whatever was here within these walls was comforting.  It healed something inside of her that had been broken for so long that she had simply forgotten what it was like to be whole.

Silently, she turned to leave, taking one last look out the window to the swirling, blowing snow.  The blizzard that was now raging seemed to match the one inside of her.  For once, her thoughts were clear.  It was her emotions that were in a whirl.  They had been since that day on her front porch that summer night so long ago.  The night she had reached up and pulled Logan's lips to hers, demanding that he give her the first kiss of her life before he left town for good.

And he had obliged.  Even now, she could still feel the press of his lips against hers, the unskilled movements that still left no doubt that he wanted her, too.  The heat and the pressure mixed with the softness.  The way he had smelled so clean and fresh, like the summer thunderstorm that had just passed.  The way she had lost her heart to a boy who so many considered beneath them.

She might have initiated the kiss, but he had quickly taken control, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to him.  It was the first time she had even been pressed against an aroused male, and though it wouldn't be the last, it was by far the most memorable.

He had wanted her.  Her.  Not her father and not her mother but her.  He found value in her.  He had desired her for herself.  He had kissed her back and enjoyed it.  Then, his tongue had prodded open her lips and she had given in instantly, allowing him to take what he wanted from her, deepening the kiss in the way her unskilled, youthful mind hadn't realized was possible.

It had been memorable.  It had been perfect.  It had been everything to her.

That night, Cecilia Marie Linden had looked at Logan Drake Valliente and fallen in love for the first and, most likely, last time in her life.

For her, there would only ever be this man who now called himself Drake Vale.  And he didn't know that he held her heart.  She had never told him.

Cecilia was halfway across the room before she stopped and looked back to find Drake watching her, his eyes dark now even without the special contacts.  She could see so much pain and confusion there, and her heart broke, not just with need but with love.  How could she walk away from this man?  Then again, how could she not and still hope to keep her sanity?

"It was always you, Cecilia," he said softly.  "I don't want to confuse you even more, but you deserve to know.  Those other women?  Each time I took them into my bed, I wanted them to be you.  I judged them all by you and only you.  My Celli.  Do you remember the first time I called you that?  I do.  Because after that, there was never any woman who could compare to you."

She had been fastening her cape around her shoulders, but she stopped, his words rooting her to the spot.  "Why?"  All the other words that had been spoken between them tonight were just filler.  This was the heart of the matter, at least for her.  "Why, Drake?"

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and finally, she saw the boy she remembered beneath the sexy, sophisticated veneer.  "Because I love you, Celli.  I've loved you since the moment I came into your home when I was ten, all dirty and smelly and you put your arms around me and hugged me.  You made me feel like a person.  Like I mattered.  That I mattered to 
you
.  You gave me a reason to live, to want to see another sunrise.  And I think..."  He paused and blew out a breath so that he could collect himself.  "And I think that after all this time, you deserve to know the truth.  I owe you that much."

Drake had never told a single soul about that day, not even his Aunt Agatha.  He had been at his lowest that cold March day.  He had suffered another beating from his stepfather a few days before.  It had taken him at least a day or more to pick himself up from the dirt and filth outside of the trailer where he had lain since the bastard had physically tossed him out of the only place he had to call home.

Bloody and ashamed, knowing how bad he looked and how he smelled even worse, Drake had sought out the only place he could think of for refuge - the after-school center where he had hopes of washing up and maybe finding some clean clothes.

Except the doors had been locked, the center closed for the day.  It was only pure luck that William Linden had been driving past and seen the battered little boy looking for a way into the center.  He hadn't asked questions.  Instead, he had opened the door to his car and invited Drake inside, saying that his wife had just made a big pot of stew, too much for his small family to eat and asked if Drake would care to join them.  William had made the offer before and each time, Drake had refused, mostly out of pride.  But that day?  He had been too miserable and in too much pain to refuse any help that was offered.

The entire trip to the Linden home, Drake had been terrified of what Mrs. Linden might say, or worse, the man's daughter.  Cecilia was a goddess in Drake's eyes and not someone who should be sullied by coming into contact with a worthless boy like him.  He had seen her at school, all beautiful perfect but never dared approach her.  He was well aware that their worlds would never cross.  That she was too good for some poor piece of trash like him.

Yet he had walked in the door and Cecilia, who had been at the table doing homework had sprang up from her chair and welcomed him inside, no questions asked.  She had touched him, bandaged his lip and not laughed when he had only managed to say "Celli" though his split, swollen lips.

He had fallen in love with her that day and he had never told her.  After tonight, he would never see her again.  She at least deserved to know the truth - that she, more than anyone else, had saved his life.

He watched her now as the cape slid from her shoulders to puddle on the floor as she walked toward him again, her steps slow and deliberate.  "I died inside the day you left, Drake."  Her voice was low and quiet, but he heard her perfectly.  "Until then, I didn't know fate could be so cruel.  I had finally fallen in love, even if it was just the first taste of youthful infatuation, and fate was snatching away the boy who held my heart."  

She stopped short in front of him, seeing not just the broken little boy she remembered but the breathtaking man he had become.  "I think my life has been in a tail spin ever since.  You were my rock, the one I could always count on to tell me the truth.  Unlike my friends, you never lied to me.  You never compared me to anyone else, said I should be more like my parents.  And then you were gone and I was lost."

Cecilia reached out and tugged one of his hands free from his pockets.  "For me, too, Drake.  For me, too.  It was always you.  In my heart, I think I was always hoping that you would find your way back to me somehow.  I think that's why I went into teaching and why I never left College Heights.  If I did, how would you find me again?"

Freeing his other hand, Drake reached out and pulled Cecilia to him, his body coming to life again when she was in his arms.  "Somehow, Celli," he said darkly, the passion flaring in his eyes again.  "I would have found you somehow, even if I had to search to the ends of the Earth."

Then he was tired of waiting and tired of talking.  Cecilia Linden was in his arms, the very place where he had dreamed of having her for so long.  And she loved him.  Or she thought she did.  She might change her mind in the morning, but for tonight?  That was good enough for him.

The moment his lips touched hers for their first kiss in nearly twenty years, Drake knew he had finally come home.

Chapter Six

The kiss was nothing short of explosive and Cecilia felt it all the way to her toes and beyond.  The passion and attraction she had been fighting from the moment she had seen Drake's photo on the playbill came roaring back with a vengeance and this time, she didn't bother fighting it.

Instead, she reveled in it, tunneling her fingers through his hair and pulling him closer to her.  She felt the press of his chest against her breasts and suddenly, the room that had seemed so small before was now even smaller.  Then the world began to fall away and it was just the two of them - the beginning and the end.  The way it was meant to be.

His lips were hard and yet somehow soft at the same time.  He tasted not of vodka, but of sparkling water with lemon.  Unexpected but still somehow sensual at the same time.  He was also demanding, as if once he started to kiss her, he couldn't get enough.  He wanted more, much more and that was evident the way his erection, harder than before which she hadn't thought was possible, pressed into her stomach.  She was willing to give him all that he asked for and more.

Drake teased Cecilia's lips with his tongue, tracing the seam of them and silently begging her to open for him.  He wanted to taste her and discover all of her secrets.  At thirteen he hadn't been skilled enough to know what he was doing, nor should he have been.  But as an adult he had plenty of experience and he planned to show Cecilia exactly what he had learned in the years they had been apart.

When she finally gave in and tangled her tongue with his, he felt his senses explode, a burst of color so pure and bright behind his eyes that he thought he might be dreaming.  Perfection.  She was nothing short of perfection.  She tasted of cranberries from the few sips of her drink she had taken, and something that was uniquely Cecilia.  Sweet and yet somehow tart at the same time.  He didn't think he had ever tasted anything better.