Once Upon a Christmas (37 page)

He traced the flowing letters he’d written. Stacey squirmed
beneath his touch, only half-listening as he spoke.

“Brave. You were brave enough to leave your husband and
start over on your own. Brave enough to do a hell of a job of it, too, to hear
Richard and Janie talk. Brave enough to stand up to me when—”

“Dylan, enough.” Stacey pushed herself to a
sitting position. “Enough talking, enough writing…”
Enough
teasing
, but she couldn’t say that aloud. Balancing on one elbow, she
spread her hand along his chest, his shoulder, trying to pull him closer,
feeling his muscles flex beneath her fingers. “Enough, enough,” she
whispered as his mouth neared hers. “En—”

His kiss smothered her words, merged their mouths in a union
so powerful and it made her dizzy. God, yes—this was what she needed. Blindly,
she grabbed for him. Something clattered on the tabletop and rolled—the
forgotten eyeliner, she guessed vaguely—then Dylan held her close as he kissed
her, smashing her against the warmth of his chest with one strong arm.

His hand flattened and circled over her back, raising her
sweater higher, pulling it taut across her breasts. Her nipples pushed against
the knit cotton, friction-sensitized and taut with excitement. Her thighs
strained to bring her closer, trembling to lift her higher from the table and
catapult her all the way against him. She wanted to feel every hot inch of him
pressing on her skin, wanted to drag him on the table with her.

The table. They were sprawled on a table, too eager and aroused
to wait, and the realization of their position excited her even more. Loving
it, Stacey met him greedily, opening her mouth wider, welcoming the pressure of
his lips and the gliding, forceful strokes of his tongue. She whimpered in the
back of her throat, wordlessly asking for more as she held him tighter.

Taking his lips away for one aching instant, Dylan slammed
his hand on the table beside her hip. “
Mmmm, yes
,” he
murmured. Then he lowered his head again…and gave her all she wanted.

This was no warm-up kiss, no exploratory kiss or make-up
kiss. Between them, there was no need, and she felt about as warmed up as was
possible to be without bursting into flames. Tongue-sweet and hot with need,
this was a hungry kiss. A starving, can’t-get-enough kiss.

Jubilant to finally have what she needed, Stacey lost
herself in him, pressing as hard as he did, giving everything. Triumph surged
through her. She’d show Dylan to go on talk, talk, talking…she’d show him
what she wanted, and it wasn’t more conversation. Her fingers dug into his
shoulder, seeking the hard man beneath and capturing nothing but warmth and a
handful of woven shirt.

That shirt needed to be gone. Now. It buttoned right over
the skin she wanted to feel next to hers, covered up all the strength that
cradled her and held her still for his kiss. Arching higher, Stacey took her
mouth from his, then planted both hands on Dylan’s shoulders and tugged.

The damned shirt wouldn’t budge.

“What’s the matter with this thing?” She frowned
at it as though the sheer force of her impatience could melt the clothes
standing in her way. “Take it off.”

“Mmmm.” Dylan looked at her through half-closed
eyes. “You first.”

How could he be so calm about this? Stacey felt like ripping
off his shirt however she could, leaving him in tatters like the Incredible
Hulk. There’d be time enough for her to get naked later. Right now, what she
wanted was him.

Naked.

Shivering, she fumbled with his shirt buttons. Brute force
finally got most of them through the four or five buttonholes that made up his
shirt placket. She whipped her fingers beneath his shirt to tug it off…and
the delicious texture of his skin beneath her palms stopped her instantly. Heat
surged into her hands, emanating from his skin along with the scent of Safeguard
and sunshine. Crisp masculine hairs tickled her fingers. She roved higher,
loving the feel of him.

“God, you’re killing me,” he moaned. “Take it
off, take it off.”

“I am.” Stacey spread her palms over him, letting
his chest hair tickle her splayed fingers. She found the small, sharp point of
his nipple and flicked it with her thumb.

Dylan shuddered and closed his eyes. “
Now
. Take
it off now.”

“Mmmm. Maybe I’ve got a mind to try some body painting
of my own.” She slid her hands to his back so she could press her chest
against his. “I think I’ve got my lipstick around here somepla—”

“Later.”

He thrust his hand in her hair and used it to tilt her head
back. Her scalp tingled as his mouth descended on hers, taking her breath away.
Needy and passionate, his kiss destroyed whatever urge to tease Stacey had
left. She only wanted him.

Now.

Dylan ended the kiss. She grabbed two handfuls of his shirt
and tugged. His shirt slid past toned skin and muscle, bared his stomach, his
chest…and Stacey stopped pulling, temporarily blinding him as she abandoned
his shirt to smooth her hands over him. God, he felt gorgeous.

She flexed her fingertips, sank her nails barely into his
flesh and felt him shudder beneath her palms. It was heady stuff to have such
power over a man like Dylan. Maybe she’d leave him like this for a while, just
long enough to satisfy her urge to—

“Hey!” His hands came up, grappling for his shirt.
Evidently, he had other ideas besides letting her ogle him.

Stacey tickled his underarm.

“Yeow!” Laughing, Dylan doubled over sideways,
wrenched off his shirt, and came up facing her with the promise of retribution
written on his face. He bunched up his shirt. Threw it over his shoulder.

And grabbed her sweater instead.

She stopped him with a kiss that started out hard and fast
and only got hotter. Hooking her fingers in the waistband of his pants, Stacey
hauled him between her thighs and went on kissing him.

He tasted hot and clean…he felt even better than that.
Past reason, past anything but wanting, she took his hand and pushed it flat
against her body, making his palm skim past her hip, her waist, her ribs.
Guided by her hand, his fingers closed around her breast and squeezed gently.
Oh, God, he touched her as though he couldn’t get enough. His other hand came
up to cover her other breast and she pushed herself into his palms, needing
that contact more than she needed breathing.

Stacey moaned into his mouth as he caressed her, her nipples
peaking hard against his hand. More, more…groping, fumbling, she worked
one-handed at his fly, using her free hand to keep herself from falling
backward. Her thumb found his pants’ first riveted stud and pushed it through
its buttonhole.

Breathing hard, Dylan stared at her hand, watching her
unfasten the next stud, and the next. She watched too, thrilled by the erotic
sight of her pink-manicured nails against his darker skin, by the contrast of
her hand on his rough clothes and the smooth flare of his dark hair vanishing
beneath them. His erection strained against his pants, its hard length exciting
her into working faster.

He kissed the nape of her neck, nipped and sucked and made
her wild with teasing love bites that trailed up the side of her neck. He
nuzzled her earlobe, sending the heated rasp of his breath against her sensitive
skin. “God, you feel good,” he whispered against her ear. “Mmmm…so
soft.”

Feverishly, Stacey twisted the next button on his pants. She
wanted to see him, to feel him…she dug her other hand in his waistband for
leverage and finally got two more buttons free. Almost there.

Dylan’s hands slid beneath her sweater, letting in cool air
then sweet, dizzying warmth as he unfastened her bra clasp and cupped her bare
breasts in his hands.

Quivering, she bucked against him. “Ahhh, Dylan…
yes
.
Please, touch me….”

He caressed her, stroking his thumbs over her nipples,
sending heat and pleasure shimmering through her.

“Please, please,” she begged, hugging her knees to
his hips to keep him close. His rough pants rubbed against her thighs, exciting
her even further.

Slowly, so slowly, Dylan eased her sweater higher. Stacey
bit her lip, trying to keep from screaming as he pulled it over her head and
trailed the bunched-up fabric over her shoulders, her breasts. He finally
dropped it on a chair. There was no way she could wait for him to take off the
rest of her clothes, not at this pace. Eagerly, she slid off her bra and
dropped it beside her shirt, then reached for him.

“Wait.” He caught her wrists in his hands and held
her arms at her sides. “I want to see you. I have to see you.”

His eyes flashed, dark with need. His gaze devoured her,
moving hungrily over her body.

“Beautiful,” he said. “Oh, God…you’re so
beautiful.”

He cradled her face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over
her cheeks as he kissed her. He pulled her close enough that her breasts rubbed
sensuously over his chest, driving her wild with the need to have more…more
of this, more of him, more love.

Moaning, Stacey arched against him, pushing her knees harder
into his hips. Her hands roved across the hard, muscular span of his back,
searching for a way to bring him closer still. His hands, trembling and
impatient, worked at her waistband. She needed him too much to wait. Raising
her hips from the table, Stacey scrambled to take off her skirt. Fabric rustled
as Dylan whipped it down her legs and onto the floor, leaving her dressed in
only her panties.

He shoved off the rest of his clothes and pushed them aside
with his foot, dragging her into his arms again. Their bare skin touched
everywhere, warm and sleek with sweat. His erection pushed against her thigh,
silky and hard and incredibly hot. Stacey wrapped her fingers around him,
loving the feel of him pulsing with life against her palm. Groaning, Dylan
dipped his head and kissed her.

“Make love to me,” she whispered, feeling him
throb eagerly in her hand as she spoke. “Here. Now.” His fingers
touched the lacy edge of her panties, then dipped lower to fondle her through
their silky fabric. It clung to her body, warm and wet with her arousal. “
Please
.”

“Mmmm. Forever,” he promised.

His smile for her was a hungry man’s, all appetite and
anticipation of the pleasure to come. Dylan eased off her panties, then slowly,
slowly
, found every private place needing his touch. Stacey writhed
beneath his hand, clutching his shoulder for support against the storm of
pleasure he created inside her. Tighter and tighter her need wound, spiraling
almost out of control.

Dylan moaned with her, taking in every tremor and cry, every
aching plea she made. His harsh, honeyed whispers swept past her ear, offering
sweet suggestions of the loving, erotic things he’d make her feel. Now. Later.
Forever. She whimpered, drowning in pleasure and greedy for more.

“Yes.” He gave her everything her shivering,
aching body needed, touching her with endless, loving strokes. “Yes,
Stacey, ahhh…you feel so good,” he moaned as she bucked against his
hand. “Mmmm…come for me now. Let it go. Ahhh…”

Her orgasm exploded through her. Fierce waves of pleasure
made her clutch him blindly, a creature of sensation alone. She hadn’t dared
open her eyes before she heard the tiny sound of tearing foil.
Yes
. That
meant he’d soon be inside her. She helped with the condom, watching their hands
mingle as they worked together, panting, to put it on.

Their gazes met. Stacey smiled, silly with eagerness and
discovery and love. Dylan smiled, too, his a crooked grin that vanished as he
pulled her closer across the table. She reached for him, kissed him.

“I need you,” she whispered.

“You’ve got me.”

He dragged her close, holding her hips in his hands, and
entered her with one smooth, powerful stroke.
Bliss
. Nothing had ever
felt this good. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she met him, mindlessly, thrust
for thrust. Tremors shook her, made her grasp at his back, his waist. He held
her bottom in his hands and raised her higher, gliding inside her, thrusting
harder. His hands clenched convulsively on her buttocks, squeezing and
releasing her as their loving urged him closer and closer to completion.

Dylan buried his face in her shoulder. Hoarsely, he panted
against her skin, calling her name. She met every thrust of his hips, needy and
breathless as another orgasm shook her. Her body squeezed around him with
exquisite release, drawing him closer.

Suddenly, he stilled. He cried out, thrusting again. Again.
His body rocked against her, and his arms tightened hard around her. His teeth
sank into her shoulder, sending a fresh wave of pleasure spiraling through her.

“Ahhh, Stacey. Oh, God,” he cried, slumping
against her. Dylan’s breath whooshed past her shoulder, and his hands eased.
Cracking his eyes open, he gazed at her, still breathing hard. His fingers
brushed her tangled hair from her face, then he lay his forehead against hers. “You’re
incredible.” A crooked smile lit his face. “What a woman I picked to
love.”

She couldn’t speak, too overcome with emotion and their
frenzied lovemaking to form any coherent thoughts. Smiling, Stacey caressed
him, then kissed his shoulder.

“Next time,” he promised, “we’ll take our
time.”

He wiggled slightly, and her smile turned wicked. “Hmmm…feels
as if you’re already ready for next time.”

“Noticed that, did you?” Dylan gave her a teasing,
gliding thrust, just enough to remind her of all they’d shared. “Mmmm. I’d
hoped you would.”

He cupped her breast in his hand. His tongue circled her
nipple, sending ripples of new, raw pleasure through her.

“There are some places I haven’t quite paid enough
attention to,” he murmured, sucking gently. “I’d better start
remedying that right now.”

Stacey could hardly wait.

Chapter Nine

Hooked. That’s what he was, Dylan decided the next morning
as he scrubbed at a swirl of pomegranate-lipstick love words on the inside of
his thigh.
Hooked
. And he loved every minute of it.

Standing alone in the steamy shower, he scrubbed a little
more, then realized ordinary soap and water wasn’t going to remove the
Lovetiger
on his thigh—or the
King of Love
on his shoulder, or any of the other,
spicier words Stacey had branded him with last night. Her lipstick, as she’d
informed him too late with a saucy grin, really was new, improved, and famously
indelible. He guessed he’d just have to get used to wearing her sexy opinions
all over his body.