It Must Have Been the Mistletoe... (4 page)

BOOK: It Must Have Been the Mistletoe...
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He bent close and kissed her, his tongue tracing along her lower lip before plunging deep into her mouth. The kiss was intoxicating, leaving them both breathless, and when he finally pulled back, she swayed slightly.

“My heart is beating so fast,” she murmured. “And my knees feel like jelly.”

“You know how pleasurable intimacy can be and that just heightens your pleasure when you are kissed.”

Alison reached down and took his hand, then placed it on her breast. “And what will I do if you touch me?” she asked.

“You'll close your eyes and focus on all the sensations racing through your body,” he said, staring down at her.

She closed her eyes and smiled as his thumb teased at her nipple though the fabric of the sweatshirt. Though all of his talk made sex sound like some kind of science experiment, Alison knew better. This didn't have anything to do with science. Seduction was an art, and Drew was one very accomplished artist.

 

T
HE FEEL OF HER FLESH
beneath the soft fabric of his sweatshirt caused a current of desire to race through Drew. This wasn't hypothetical need they were talking about anymore. This was real and intense.

As he rubbed his thumb across her nipple, a soft sigh escaped her lips and she closed her eyes and tipped her head back. “I guess we've figured that one out,” he murmured. His hand dropped to her waist, then slipped beneath the sweatshirt. Cupping the soft swell of her breast in his hand, Drew kissed her again.

But this time, the kiss wasn't tentative. Instead, Drew knew exactly what she wanted and he was very willing to give it to
her. Sliding his other hand around her waist, he pulled her over to the leather sofa. They tumbled down, their bodies arching together, until she lay stretched out beside him.

“I wonder what might happen if we take our clothes off,” she said, her fingers toying at the buttons of his shirt.

He paused, reconsidering the speed at which they'd been moving. They had the whole night. Maybe it was time to take it slower and delay gratification. “Maybe we should hold off getting naked and get to know each other a little better,” he suggested.

“But what better way to get to know you than to get naked?” Alison teased.

He groaned softly. She wasn't going to make this easy. Drew grabbed her hand and held it above her head, then rolled on top of her, pinning her body beneath his. “Answer just one question,” he murmured, brushing his lips against hers. “Just one.”

“All right,” Alison said.

He looked at her, meeting her gaze squarely. He'd know if she was lying. He knew all the physiological signs. “Is there a man waiting for you back home?”

Her eyebrow arched. “That's it? That's all you want to know?”

Drew nodded. “If we're going to do this, I want to know that there's no one standing in between us. That we're both free to indulge.”

“There's no man,” she said. “And there hasn't been for a long time. Thus my…enthusiasm.”

He chuckled softly at the look on her face. “Same with me. It's been a while.” And now there was a second problem, one that he knew might alter the course of the evening. “I was thinking, rather than rushing into this like two horny rabbits, we might want to take our time?”

Alison frowned. “Horny rabbits?” She sighed softly. “All
right. I understand your point. But if we're already decided, why not just…do it?”

“Well, there's a slight problem.”

“A problem?” A frown furrowed her brow. “What kind of problem?”

“I don't have any condoms,” he said.

“You're a doctor and you don't have any condoms? How is that possible?”

“It's not like I was planning this,” Drew explained. “And I never bring women here, so there's just no need. I do have one in my wallet, but it's been there for a while and it's probably not any good, and as a doctor, I'd never recommend using it, so—”

“I have a box in my bag,” she said quickly.

“You carry a box of condoms?”

Alison nodded. “They were a gift.” She blinked, a wide grin suffusing her face. “A rather fortunate gift, I'd say.”

“All right, then. Nothing to worry about. So, we'll have some dinner, maybe a glass of wine. And then you'll have a bath, and then we'll…proceed.”

“What if I can't wait that long?” Alison said. “You saw me naked. I think I should have the same opportunity.”

“You want to see me naked? Right now?”

Alison untangled herself from his embrace and crawled off the sofa. “Yes. I think that would only be fair. It would appease my curiosity until after dinner.”

Drew laughed. She seemed dead serious. “You want me to take off my clothes right now?”

“They're wet and muddy and you're going to change anyway. I just want to watch. Do you have a problem with that? Are you hiding something under there that you don't want me to see?”

Maybe he was. All this talk was enough to fully arouse him. The minute he took off his pants, the extent of his response to her would be evident. Did he really want Alison
to see the effect she had on his body? Or the power she held over him?

“Oh, hell,” he muttered. “All right. I'm not a prude. I'm very comfortable with the human body. I just want to warn you about the third nipple. It's—”

“What?” she asked.

He held up his hands. “Kidding. Just kidding. Although it's not uncommon. It's called a supernumerary nipple. About one in twenty people have them. Mostly they just look like birthmarks.”

“Take off your clothes,” Alison said.

He stood and walked over to the fireplace, then slowly unbuttoned his shirt. As he shrugged out of it and tossed it on the floor, Drew felt a strange shift of power. She was watching him silently, waiting, her breathing shallow.

“This must be how exotic dancers feel,” he said softly.

His T-shirt followed, but this time, he threw it at her and the damp cotton hit her face. Alison growled at him and tossed it back, just as he began to unbutton his jeans. Drew decided to extend this part of his show for as long as he could, hoping that his erection might subside in the meantime.

When the zipper reached the bottom, he had no choice but to skim his jeans down over his hips. He stepped out of them, then quickly dispatched his socks as well. Left only in his boxers, he looked over at her. “Any comments?”

Her gaze drifted down to the tent at the front of his boxers. “Nope. Continue.”

“You're sure?”

Alison slowly nodded her head. “Yes.”

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and slowly tugged. Drew half expected her to stop him, but she didn't. And when he was completely naked, her gaze slowly drifted along the length of his body, then back up to his face. Alison inhaled a long, slow breath and nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “You can get dressed now.”

“That's it? Thank you? No comments?”

She turned and walked to the kitchen. “Yes. That's all I needed. What are we having for dinner?”

Drew cursed softly. That was her only reaction. Thank you? Had she found something wrong with his appearance? “Soup,” he muttered. “Lentil soup.”

3

I
T WASN'T GOURMET, BUT
Alison found that the hearty soup was exactly what she needed to restore her energy and distract her mind. She should have anticipated the effect that Drew's little striptease would have on her and questioned her motives for asking him to do it.

It had begun as a playful challenge, but the sight of him, fully aroused and ready, had shaken her to the core. This was the man who'd share her bed tonight, who'd make her body shudder with pleasure. Everything about him was perfect. Still, she couldn't help but wonder if she was setting herself up for disappointment.

Sex never quite lived up to her expectations. She had always hoped for an experience so intense that it would transcend the simple mechanics between men and women. And she'd never found that, never. Maybe there'd been too many other expectations attached. Maybe if she just focused on this one night and not on the future, she could let herself go.

“What exactly is a musicologist?” Drew asked as he crumbled saltines into his third bowl of soup.

“It's the historical and scientific study of music. I specialize in Appalachian music, or what's usually called traditional American music.”

“And what do you do with the songs you find?”

“I write about them, I sometimes publish them. And I sing a lot of the songs in recitals and concerts.”

“Are you going to sing Ettie's?”

Alison nodded. “I'm interviewing for a job in Texas. It's a really huge opportunity, but they want someone who can bring the program publicity. It's not enough to just write articles for professional journals anymore. You have to record albums and publish songbooks and perform around the country. And one of the guys I'm up against does all of that.”

“So that's why you're interested in Ettie's songs?” he asked. “So you can use them to get this job?”

“Yes,” she said. “No, not just that.”

He shook his head. “Nobody comes all the way up on this mountain unless they want something. And they usually want it for nothing.”

“That's not it at all,” Alison said. “If I don't record or publish those songs, they'll be lost forever. Is that what you want? Ettie's name will always be on those songs. A hundred years from now, people will be singing them and saying her name when they do.”

“And what if she wants them to stay all hers? What if she doesn't want them to be published?”

“Then that would be her choice. Not yours.”

“I'll go get your bath ready,” he said. “The water should be hot.”

Alison frowned. Maybe she had sounded a little mercenary, but there was a lot riding on these songs. Her whole professional life. She understood his need to protect Ettie's interests, but this wasn't a brooch or a silver ring she was talking about. These were important songs.

She got up and fetched her dulcimer, then opened the case on the table in front of her. She worked out the chords for one of Ettie's songs while she waited. When Alison looked up, she found Drew watching her.

“Sing something for me.”

“This is called ‘Down In Yon Forest.' It's an old English carol from the Renaissance that was passed from generation to generation. It was brought to these mountains by British settlers. People like your ancestors. They might have sung this carol in this cabin. And shared it with their neighbors.” She drew a deep breath and began to pluck an introduction on her dulcimer.

“Down in yon forest there stands a hall,

The bells of Paradise I heard them ring

It's covered all over with purple and pall

And I love my Lord Jesus above anything.”

Alison sang the song from beginning to end, all six verses. When she was finished, she drew a final breath and shrugged. “If someone had decided to keep that song to themselves, I could have never sung it for you. Songs are only good if they're passed along.”

A slow smile curved his lips. “That was beautiful. You have an incredible voice.”

“Not that incredible,” she said. “I wasn't really warmed up. And I messed up a little on the third verse.” She smoothed her fingers over the dulcimer strings. “I used to dream that my sisters and I would perform together. Layla is a really good mandolin player, but she has horrible stage fright. And Rita hates music, so that was a problem.”

“Why didn't you just do it on your own? You're talented enough.”

“I'll have to if I get that job in Texas.”

“You said your parents sing?”

“Not anymore. I mean, they sing, but just for fun now. My father teaches music in the school system in Ponder Hill, and my mom teaches piano and voice lessons privately. They're
settled and happy. I don't think they have any interest in going out on the road again.”

He stood, bending close to brush a kiss across her lips. “Sing me another while I finish making up your bath.”

Alison sang another favorite, “The Holy Well.” By the time she finished a couple more songs, Drew had poured the two huge pots of water into the copper bathtub and cooled them down with another pot of rainwater from the barrel outside.

“It's getting nasty out there,” he said. “The rain has turned to sleet.”

There was no reason to worry about the weather, Alison mused. She was warm and cozy here and satisfied to spend the night—in his arms and in his bed.

“Your bath is ready,” he said, bending over and swirling his hand through the water. “Get in quick or it will turn cold.”

Alison crossed to the tub. She ran her hand through the shallow water, then stood. Drew straightened in front of her and she held up her arms, an invitation to him to undress her.

He grabbed the bottom of her sweatshirt and gently tugged it over her head. His gaze slowly took in her naked breasts, then he reached out and cupped his palm beneath the soft flesh of one.

His touch was fleeting. There one moment and gone the next. When he slid his hands beneath the waistband of her sweatpants, Alison held her breath. Slowly, he lowered them down over her hips and then lifted each leg until she was free of them. He held her hand as she stepped into the tub.

The water was only about six inches deep, but Alison sank down and splashed it over her body. Here in this rustic setting, the primitive bath was a luxury. Sleet hissed against the windows of the cabin and the wind clattered through the trees. But she was safe and warm.

“How am I supposed to wash my hair?” she asked.

“Get it wet. I left shampoo on the floor. I'll make up a pitcher of water to rinse.”

She leaned forward and dunked her head into the bathwater, then worked shampoo through her hair. But as she tried to rinse most of it out, she got soap in her eyes. “Rinse,” she called. A moment later, he was behind her. She held on to the edge of the tub and tipped her head back.

“Farther,” he whispered.

A rush of warm water ran through her hair and down her back. Alison smiled as he furrowed his fingers through the wet strands. When he was done, she opened her eyes to find him gone again, but a few seconds later, he was back with another pitcher.

Drew set it down on the floor. “You can use this to rinse off,” he said, then draped a towel over the side of the tub. “Let me know if you need me to wash your back.”

“Can I ask you something?” Alison murmured.

“Sure.”

“Before, when you undressed. I noticed that you were…aroused. Was that because of me? Or was it just that I was a naked woman and you're a man.”

“I'm a doctor. I'm used to looking at the human body. I can be controlled when necessary.” He laughed softly. “But, I'm having a hard time standing here and acting as if everything is cool. This is like some teenage fantasy come true. It's not because you're just any naked woman. It's you I'm attracted to, not only your body.”

Alison stood up in front of him. “Rinse.”

He grabbed the pitcher and stood. Carefully, he poured the water over her, smoothing his hands over her slick skin in its wake. It had been so long since a man had touched her that she craved the sensation.

They'd have just one night together, one chance to do what their desire compelled them to do. The water was the perfect temperature and she closed her eyes as he moved lower. Alison
took a deep breath and let it out slowly, waiting for him to finish, anticipating what would come next.

When he took her hand and helped her out of the tub, dripping wet, he didn't offer her a towel. Instead, he pulled her against him and kissed her.

 

H
ER BODY WAS EVERYTHING
he'd imagined it would be, soft curves and silken skin, limbs that moved sinuously and fingers that seemed to touch all the perfect spots on him.

They stumbled over to the kitchen table and Drew lifted her up to sit on the edge, then stripped off his own clothes. The glow from the kerosene lamps cast them in soft light and deep shadow. Slowly, he ran his hands from her shoulders to the tips of her fingers, then back again.

“Where are those condoms we talked about?” he asked.

“In the bottom of my bag.” Alison leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his chest. “I think you better get them—fast.”

Drew crossed the room and rummaged through her bag. When he couldn't find what he was looking for, he handed it to her. Alison dumped the contents on the table.

“Wow,” he said. “That's a lot of stuff.”

She grabbed up a small box and held it out to him. “Twelve. I hope that's enough.”

Drew laughed. “I think we'll be okay.” He set the box beside her, then wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, her thighs pressing his hips.

“Is this going to happen?” he asked, toying with the damp hair that brushed her shoulder.

“I think it is,” Alison replied. She ran her hand down his chest, then paused at his belly.

Drew sucked in a sharp breath as her fingers drifted lower. When they circled his cock, a groan slipped from his throat and he knew there would be no going back. He was hers to
night, and he was determined to convince her that there had to be other nights like this in their future.

“Slow down,” he murmured. “We have lots of time.”

She drew a ragged breath, letting her fingers drift back up to his chest. Gently, Drew pushed her back onto the table, her naked body laid out in front of him, a feast for his eyes. She smelled of soap and shampoo and he inhaled deeply as his lips trailed over her skin. He pressed a line of kisses along the inside of her thigh, then moved higher, to the spot where her legs met.

He touched her, running his fingers along the damp folds of her desire, slowly caressing her with a gentle but persistent rhythm. She moaned softly and Drew smiled. He knew all the anatomical features of a woman's body, but looking at Alison brought a sense of wonder.

There was so much beauty, so much pleasure to be had, that a guy could lose himself in the need to possess. Instinct drove him forward as he searched for perfection in every kiss, in each caress.

His lips and tongue took the place of his fingers and he slowly drew her closer to the edge and then back again. Her hands gripped the table and at times she cried out in frustration when he'd stop and begin again.

He knew everything that was going on inside her body, every physiological reaction. And yet, he didn't care about that. Drew wanted to know what was in her mind. Did she want him as much as he wanted her? Was this purely animal lust or was there a deeper connection forming between them?

Her fingers twisted in his hair and she sat up, her eyes half-hooded and glazed with desire. “Stop,” she said, searching the table for the box of condoms. When she found it, she tore open a package and quickly sheathed him.

She didn't want to wait any longer. She was wet and ready and Drew knew exactly what she was feeling. He wrapped her
legs around his waist and pulled her toward him, balancing her on the edge of the table.

Her lips were swollen and her cheeks flushed. Her hair tumbled softly around her face and she smiled lazily. He drew her closer, probing until he found the entrance he sought.

Inch by delicious inch, he moved forward. Alison braced her hands behind her and waited until he was buried deep inside her. Then she smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply.

Drew began to move. Exquisite pleasure coursed through his body in waves. Her warmth surrounded him and he tried to recall if sex had ever felt this good. Though he danced at the edge of release, he maintained a quiet control. This would not end until he wanted it to.

Alison buried her face in the curve of his neck, her body meeting every thrust with a soft cry. Drew reached between them and touched her again where their bodies were joined.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Oh, that's good.”

She tipped her head back, bracing her hands behind her again, her expression tense and focused, her eyes closed. And then, her breath caught in her throat and she was suddenly there, ready to tumble over.

A spasm shook her body. As Drew watched her dissolve into her orgasm, he found his own body ready for release. He grabbed her hips and pulled her close, driving deep before losing control. His mind whirled as his climax overwhelmed him, shudders racking his body and making his knees weak.

When the tremors finally subsided, he collapsed on top of her, his lips pressed to the spot between her breasts. He could feel her heart beating a rapid rhythm as they both gasped for breath. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean for this to happen on the kitchen table.”

She laughed softly, staring up at the ceiling. “I think I might have a sliver in my butt.”

Drew glanced around playfully. “Is there a doctor in the house?”

He pulled her back up, wrapped her legs around his waist and carried her to the bed, the two of them still intimately joined. They tumbled down onto the faded quilt and he kissed her again. “Would you like me to take a look at that for you?”

BOOK: It Must Have Been the Mistletoe...
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