Once Upon a Christmas (49 page)

“How ‘bout it?”

Nick lowered his voice as he backed her toward the patio
door. He kept his head bent, his gaze on her lips, and Chloe couldn’t have kept
her feet from moving—or her heart from speeding into overdrive—if she’d tried.

So much for bravado. Or for turnabout being fair play. Her
flippancy deserted her when she felt the glass door, smooth and cooled by the
air conditioner inside, touch her back. She jerked involuntarily at the
contact.

“Easy,” Nick murmured. His big hand cupped her
shoulder, keeping her exactly where she was. His thumb rubbed over her shirt,
moving slowly as he watched the slide of silk over skin. He closed his eyes
briefly, then opened them and tightened his hand on her shoulder. “We’ve
got all the time in the world.”

He meant it to reassure her, she knew. Somehow, his words
sounded closer to a wish than anything else, though. Funny, because Nick was
far too pragmatic a man to rely on starlit wishes or fate or anything else he
couldn’t hold in his hands and examine.

Through the patio door at her back, incandescent kitchen
light spilled over his features, making him seem both familiar and achingly
new. This new Nick, this man who’d touch her like this without even a broken
heart and Kahlúa courage between them…he was a stranger to her. One Chloe
wanted to get to know better.

“Time?” she asked, feeling breathless. “Time
for what?”

“The movie, brainiac.” His voice rumbled through
her, teasing and arousing at the same time. “Can’t you keep your mind on
the conversation?”

No. She couldn’t. Not with Nick’s hard, muscular thigh
wedged warm between her legs, not with his palm pinning her shoulder to the
glass and her heart to the wall. Not with all his considerable attention
concentrated only on her. He’d moved fast and moved hard, and the feel of his
body pressed against hers made the whole world tilt.

“It takes a really long time,” he murmured.

“The conversation?”

He shook his head, smiling for the first time since he’d
tangoed her backwards. “No, the movie. At the end, of course, the climax
comes quickly.” He traced a path over her shoulder, then slipped his thumb
just inside the neckline of her shirt. “But the rest of it moves pretty
slowly.”

She was sinking, sinking in this world turned tilted and
hot. Amazingly, Nick was her only anchor. The warm pad of his thumb stroked
along the side of her neck, sending shivers trembling from her collarbone to
her heels. Talk of climaxes and moving slowly was only that—talk—but his touch
spoke of more. Much more.

And she wanted it all.

Chloe’s hands went to his chest, smoothing imaginary
wrinkles out of his shirt as an excuse to touch him. Wrinkles—as if anything of
Nick’s would have dared misbehave. Letting her hands fall to her sides again,
she felt an answering smile lift her lips. “But that can be a good thing,
sometimes.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Moving slowly, I mean.”

His smile was wicked. So was the forward nudge of his hips
against hers. The hard, slow impact of his hips felt too wonderful for words.
The heated meld of their bodies made everything else slide away. Her heartbeat
pulsed faster, keeping time with the rhythm of his breathing.

“Mmmm, moving slowly….” He trailed his fingers
down her shirt buttons, pretending to consider the idea. “You mean, in a
conversation?”

She shook her head. Her third and fourth buttons bumped
beneath his fingertips as he made his way downward, edging between her breasts
and lower.

“In a movie, then.”

His voice teased her, taunted her…reminded her of the
closeness their banter implied. Chloe bit her lip, holding in the answer he
waited for.

“Hmmm. Won’t talk?” Nick’s smile flashed in the
night. “Then I’ll just have to guess how this slow-moving thing comes into
play for you.” He fingered the next button. The next. His fingers slipped
between the buttons to caress her bare skin, then quickly slipped out and
continued to the next button. The last one. “Maybe you like it
when…everything moves really slowly?”

“No,” she whispered as his hand followed the curve
of her hip, then captured her wrist. He laced their fingers together and pushed
her hand beneath his against the glass behind them. The rest of her answer
emerged on a gasp. “No, I like that in a man.”

“Mmmm.” His fingertips tickled her wrist. “I
thought so.”

Quit talking
, Chloe thought.
Just shut up and kiss
me
. But instead Nick only raised his head and focused his gaze on her. For
one long, breath-stealing moment, she thought he’d changed his mind. He studied
her, seeing her in a way she thought he might never have before.

As a lover.

He drew in a deep breath and released her hand. Only his
hips touched hers as, casually, he raised the plastic ice cream bowl he still
held in his palm and examined it.

“You want a slow-moving man?”

She licked her lips and sucked in a breath for courage. “I—”
I want you
.

She couldn’t say it aloud. Apparently, the atmosphere in
Saguaro Vista didn’t have the magical bravery-enhancing properties she needed.
Maybe Nick could invent a solution to that.

“Yes,” she whispered instead, trembling so hard
the words emerged on a shiver. “I…I want that.”

“Too bad. Because I’m not moving slowly anymore.”

The ice cream bowl tumbled to the patio tiles. The spoon
spun away, whirling silver like a child’s top set into motion. Both his hands came
up to cradle her face in his palms, to raise her gaze to his. Once there, she
couldn’t look away.

“This time,” Nick said, “
I’m taking
.”

His mouth came down hard over hers. Just as he’d promised,
just as he’d warned, Nick took everything. Her thoughts. Her fears. Every ounce
of caution.

Her heart.

His hands delved in her hair, his fingertips rubbing soft
against her scalp to hold her still for his kiss. Moaning, he captured her
mouth again and again, now licking her lips with tiny, fiery strokes of his tongue,
now sucking and retreating and making her crazy with the slanted pressure of
his mouth on hers. Chloe kissed him back with all the love she’d kept hidden,
twining her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his hair, pressing
hard against him.

Her breasts crushed against the solid warmth of his chest.
Her legs wobbled, and she blessed the patio door that held her upright. The
muted sounds of wind and burring cicadas and neighbors talking in the distance
receded even further, pushed far beyond the spill of light where she and Nick
came together. Between kisses, smiles burst between them like raindrops on a
summer lake.

Half insane with wanting him, Chloe squeezed Nick’s
shoulders and burrowed closer. She couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t kiss him
enough, couldn’t do enough to show him how much she wanted this.
Wanted him
.
Laughing, she hugged him close, pressing fervent fast kisses on his neck…made
him laugh, too, when she nibbled the ticklish spot on his earlobe. She climbed
him like a kitten with a new toy, tasted him like a gourmet with a delicious
new dish. A connoisseur of men who’d found the one she’d always craved.

Groaning, Nick brought both hands to her waist. “Chloe,
Chloe, you’re killing me. Ahhh—” Grinning, he wrapped his arms around her
and lifted her off her feet. “But what a way to go.”

She laughed, then whooped louder when he swung her around.
Within the darker shadows at the patio’s edge, he backed to the heavy wrought
iron patio table and sat on it, settling her on his lap with her knees pulled
up around his hips. The table’s warm woven metal surface pushed basket-weave
dimples into her bare shins, but Chloe didn’t care. She had Nick’s lap to ease
the pressure.

Or maybe to build it
, she thought as she jiggled in
his arms and settled more comfortably atop him. Thank God she was wearing silky
shorts instead of a skirt.

Although a skirt suggested delicious possibilities, too.

“Yeah, what a way to go,” she told him, keeping
both hands on his shoulders for balance as she kissed him. “I can tell you’re
really hating this kissing stuff. Or maybe that really
is
a banana in
your pocket?”

He laughed. The sound made her heart soar like a kid’s
helium balloon zooming skyward.

“Nah, that’s no banana. And these”—he cupped her
breasts, thumbing her nipples through her smooth silk shirt—“these are—”

Chloe clapped her hand over his mouth. “Are not a
subject for discussion, mister. Is that all you can think to do with me? Talk?”

He shook his head. “Mmmmph.”

Nick’s eyes glinted turquoise at her through the lenses of
his glasses.
Foggy lenses
, she noticed, leaning a little closer.
Wowsers. Had she done that?

She removed her hand.

Nick didn’t remove his. They stayed curved over her breasts,
making conversation as difficult as breathing was—considering the way he
touched her. Through her silk shirt, she felt her nipples nudge his palms. He
looked at his hands covering her, then stroked his thumbs slowly over her
again. Her nipples peaked even harder beneath the heat in his gaze.

“These,” he finished, squeezing gently, “feel
like heaven wrapped in silk.”

Why in the world had she tried to stop him from saying
something like that? “You big faker,” Chloe managed to whisper. “I
thought you were going to say something else.”

He kissed her, rubbed his lips softly over hers, then kissed
her again. Smiling, Nick looked into her eyes.

She quivered. Surely he could see all the hope and love
and…
oh, God, but not the secrets
…reflected in her gaze. Chloe closed
her eyes and squeezed him close.

“Trust me.” He slipped his fingers around her top
shirt button. “Don’t be afraid, Chloe. We can take this as slowly as you
want.” He used his thumb to push her button through the buttonhole, then
stroked the skin he’d revealed. “As slowly as you want.”

She gasped, openmouthed as his lips came on hers again in a
kiss hungry enough to rock them both backward. The table beneath them rocked,
too, not that either of them cared.

“Awww, Nick. I’ve waited forever already.” Chloe
clung to his shoulders. “Don’t make me wait anymore. Please.”

His hands told her he wouldn’t.
This time I’m taking
.
Again she heard that abandoned bowl spinning on the tiles, remembered the feel
of Nick pulling her close for that first, heart-shattering kiss. Giddy
anticipation tightened her stomach, making her feel light-headed and
tremblingly, achingly, ready for whatever came next.

Biting her lip, Chloe watched, transfixed, as he unfastened
her next button, then slipped his fingers inside the gap he’d made. His
knuckles brushed over her newly impressive, hormonally boosted cleavage—
thank
you, pregnancy
!—and her whole body tingled at his touch.

“Beautiful,” Nick murmured.

“Thanks. They’re all-natural, too,” she babbled,
temporarily undone by the incredible, impossible feel of his hands on her. No
wonder she hadn’t been able to forget the night he thought they’d never spent
together. Between his magical hands and that killer smile…

Waitaminute…that smile meant something.

“All-natural?” he asked.

Yup, that smile definitely meant something. It meant she’d
blurted out a stupid something. Whoops. Well, what could you expect from a
love-starved woman, finally in the arms of the man she loved after months and
months and months of waiting?

“Sounds like a granola commercial,” Nick added on
a grin.

She felt a blush heat her face—and probably the rest of her,
too. “Tastes great, too.”

He grinned wider. “That’s a beer commercial.”

“Whatever. You can sample the merchandise later and
decide for yourself.” Chloe ground her hips against him for diversion’s
sake, then almost wished she hadn’t. The man definitely had a banana in his
pocket, and she wasn’t sure how long she could wait to get reacquainted. “Just
as long as
this
isn’t less filling.”

“Youch!” Nick clutched his heart, laughing. “You
really know how to hurt a guy.”

Nah
, she thought, kissing him to soften her teasing.
But
he really knew how to hurt a girl
. How long would it be before Nick came to
his senses and realized the two of them were thisclose to passing the
just-friends barrier forever?

She’d think about that later. Chloe couldn’t end what was
happening between them now, no matter how bittersweet her memories were of
their night together. She didn’t have the strength. Not now, and maybe not
ever. Not when Nick was only beginning to see her as a woman.

A woman, she hoped, he might love.

“But I didn’t mean just these.” He cupped her
breasts again, and she swayed against him. “Beautiful as they are.”

His eyes twinkled at her, filled with humor and affection
and—oh, God, was that passion? She really, really hoped it was passion.

He kept talking, looking somber and Nick-serious even as he
stroked her through her silky shirt. “I meant the whole package. All of
you. Inside. Outside. Everything.” Nick stroked her cheek, and she felt
his thumb tremble against her skin. “You’re beautiful, Chloe.”

Oh, she was done for. Finished. If he hadn’t been holding
her up, she might have keeled over right there on the patio table. Melted in
his arms like the hot wax from the candles and oozed straight through the
basket-weave wrought iron. No one had ever said anything so wonderful to her
before. It felt so alien she couldn’t stand it.

“It must be the pregnancy thing,” she told him for
an excuse. “You know, the way pregnant women are supposed to be all
glowing and radiant and—”

“It’s you.” He kissed her. “Shut up and just
believe it.”

He went on unbuttoning her shirt, and fairly quickly, Chloe
found herself believing it. Believing him. He really did want her. The proof
was there in the tenderness of his touch, in the huskiness of his voice, in the
warm, hard strength of his body beneath her.