Unholy Nights: A Twisted Christmas Anthology (50 page)

He cupped my cheek with a callused hand and urged my face back to his when I tried to look away. "Of course I love it. You have impeccable taste honed by years of practice," he teased.

I laughed, though it was strangled. "Well, thanks."

"Wish you hadn't done that for me. But I know when you get an idea in your head that you just can't let it go." He paused to pull me into an embrace. "That's how you got me, remember?"

"That's not quite how I remember it."

He pressed a kiss to my hair. "First chance we get I'm going to buy you a million pairs of those earrings. I don't like you having to go without, especially for me."

"I know."

"How did you know I've been looking for one of these?" he asked after disentangling from me to inspect the inner workings of the watch again.

"I've seen you play with the old one a million times and when I saw this one, I knew I couldn't walk away without getting it for you. They're almost identical, right?"

"Almost exactly like it. It's amazing."

I bounced on my heels. "I thought so, too. I'm glad you like it. Plus, I hope it helps you be on time for a change."

He laughed and kissed me. "I love it, baby, but, and this is fuckin' weird, trust me, I sold the watch chain to pay for your necklace."

Speechless, all I could do was stare at him. He did what?

"You did what?"

"Yeah." He bowed his head. "I know you said that you didn't want anything, but there's no way in hell I was going to let you be empty handed either. I know how much you love presents. But that doesn't mean I love this one any less. It's perfect. Now," he said, smacking my ass. "Let's call Micah, then we can have dinner and relax."

Five

"God," I moaned, as I sat at one of the stools situated around the kitchen island. "That smells so good."

"Of course it does."

"I'm serious, my mouth is literally watering. I was just thinking about how to chain you to my kitchen so that you'd be forced to bake for me for the rest of our lives."

After setting the plate with fresh cookies on the counter he moved so that he was standing between my legs at the bar. "I'm sure that could be arranged." He grabbed my hands and wound them around his waist. "For a price. My food doesn't come cheap you know."

"I'm sure it doesn't, Mr. Flaherty," I replied through a laugh. "You're in an awful good mood tonight."

"I have you to thank for that. I couldn't have picked a more perfect gift and I have decided to graciously ignore the fact that you gave away those earrings for it."

"Good," I nodded. "You deserved it."

He sifted a hand through my curls and I closed my eyes, automatically leaning into the touch. "You haven't done this in a while," he murmured. "I forgot how much I liked it down. It's almost better than the watch." He tugged on the ends and I heard the smile in his voice.

I opened my eyes and was struck dumb by how carefree he seemed. "Well I had to put in some sort of effort, right? I couldn't let you cook this amazing desert without something at least halfway decent to look at for compensation. Plus, all my yoga pants are in the laundry."

"Maybe his could be your payment to me for baking." He smoothed a hand down the material covering my legs from thigh to ankle. I shivered and he smiled when he felt it. "Wear these heels for me and I'll make you whatever you want."

Biting my lip, I replied, "You haven't seen anything yet, Mr. Flaherty."

His eyes widened then went half-mast. "Oh really?" he asked. "There's not much else you can hide under there, I don't think."

I just smiled.

He was silent a moment, his grip strong where it had landed on my thigh on its return journey. "Now who's in a good mood?"

I pecked him on the lips. "Feed me."

"Yes, ma'am." He moved to uncork a bottle of wine that was chilling in the fridge and poured us two generous glasses. He handed me one.

I raised an eyebrow. "Going all out, then? Trying to ply me with more alcohol."

He didn't answer for a moment as served up cookies on plates with ice cream and thick dark chocolate brownies. The economical movements and grace with which he prowled about the kitchen were strangely alluring. Without the distraction or worry, and a fair bit of alcohol, it felt like I could finally focus on him—something I hadn't done in so long.

Placing the glass on the counter by my plate, Spencer settled into the bar stool next to me. I noticed then that he'd turned on some low music at some point and there were candles on the island. The simple touches softened my heart. It wasn't often that he did little things like that, it just wasn't in his nature to be overtly romantic, but damn when he did it he really went all out.

The gesture made me smile around my first bite of the dessert. I had to restrain myself from groaning out loud, it was that good. I bumped his shoulder with mine. "This is so great. Thank you for making this for me, really. I didn't realize how much I missed it. Aside from your great ass, it's the only reason I married you, you know."

"Please," he snorted. "We both know it was because of my devilishly good looks, including my ass. Along with that thing I do with my tongue."

I blushed. "Oh whatever. Your looks have already gone south, old man. We both know it's only your culinary genius that has kept you in the lap of luxury. And you've been slacking on that front. I won't even mention that thing you do with your tongue because it's been so long since you've done it that I've forgotten."

The easy going smile melted from his face at my unbidden reminder.  "I think we both have been slacking, if I'm being honest."

I sucked in a deep breath along with a long drink of wine. "Look, I didn't mean what I said yesterday about us not working anymore. I just—"

"I know," he interrupted. "Let's just enjoy tonight and forget about all of the other stuff for a while."

I swallowed my objections with some of the brownies doused liberally with ice cream and resolved to enjoy the night.

Because tomorrow all of my frustrations and worries were sure to return full force.

He turned the conversation from the end of our relationship to the beginning. We reminisced about all of the crazy things we did together, our first date, our honeymoon. I think he smiled more that night than he had in the past two years altogether.

We were down to the last dregs of wine. I, for one, had completely cleaned my plate. It was hard not to when it was the first edible homemade thing I'd come close to in months. At some point we'd moved closer, so close that our shoulders brushed if we shifted in the chairs. I had one foot hooked on the bottom rail the other leg crossed. It made my skirt ride dangerously up my thigh but it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before and I had too much wine in my system to care.

He laughed at whatever the hell it was that I'd been saying. There really was no telling, especially when alcohol was involved.

He angled his body even closer, legs tangling with mine as I continued to blab about the random thoughts that entered my head. Previously clouded with alcohol and now with lust, I was finding it hard to concentrate on the banal conversation. Instead I was distracted by the heat emanating from his closeness. The soft rumble of his voice as he replied. The gentle friction of my dress against my skin.

The basic attraction between us had never been a problem. Spencer had always been self-confident, so sure about himself and everything around him. His strength and arrogance would have been a major turn off coming from anyone else, but he countered it with an undeniable charm.

"Here," he said, bringing my thoughts back to the present. "You have some chocolate on your mouth."

His fingers traced the curve of my lip and my voice caught in my throat. One hand tensed on his thigh where it'd landed out of habit during my drunken conversation. The other clenched on the curve of the chipped countertop. Heat flared low in my belly and melted the tension in my body.

"Spencer," I whispered.

He either didn't hear me or ignored my calling his name. He was completely focused on his hand on my mouth, the slide of his thumb as the rough pad of it swiped my lip again, then dipped inside. The taste of him was far more potent than anything I'd had that night. I flicked my tongue against him and his breath hissed in response.

I pulled away, confused, needy. "Spencer," I said, more urgently. "What are you doing?"

The hand changed directions and moved to grasp my neck, urging me forward, slipping me off the chair and onto my heels in front of him. His free arm wound around me, pulling me flush to his chest. God, it'd been so long and he felt so familiar that any objections I had disappeared instantly.

He shoved his face in my neck, hands twisted in my hair. "More than all of it," he murmured, "I miss feeling close to you, Sera."

He held me there for a minute and I reveled in his embrace and in the confession. It's so easy to get lost when someone you love holds you at arm's length. We'd both done more than our fair share of that. You start to believe in the facade and what they don't say rather than the connection, the feelings, the commitment between you. To hear differently made me feel cracked wide open and raw.

"I miss it, too," I whispered, not trusting my voice and wrapped my arms around his waist. "I miss you."

I moved into him, unable to ask him for anything even though I needed it. I held onto him to combat the intense vulnerability. He moved his head from my neck and looked into my eyes. I almost expected that he would turn me down—he had so many times over the past few months.

After a few seconds, I felt regret begin to build. What was I thinking? It wasn't the right timing, with everything going on between us. We shouldn't muddy the waters.

Spencer was still for a moment, then his hands on my waist and the curve of my neck tightened, moving me even closer. Just when I thought he was going to put me out of my misery and tell me no, he used the hand that lightly gripped my neck to urge me close and claim my lips with his.

The taste of him was a punch to the stomach and I immediately parted my lips for more. Mint, wine and the unique flavor of him flooded my senses, making me mindless with an instinctual need. 

He groaned against my mouth and shifted in the seat to press me against the corner of the counter. The kiss grew wild as he slanted his mouth across mine to take the kiss deeper. My hands were frantic, grasping at the lapels of his shirt, undoing buttons to dip beneath to feel the hot skin of his stomach and back, the muscles rippling underneath my hands.

Kissing him after being apart for so long felt like coming home. It was desperate, wild and possibly the best kiss we'd ever shared.

I was so lost in the slide of his tongue and the press of his hands that I didn't comprehend his movements behind me until the chill met my back and my dress loosened around my torso. His nimble fingers spread the back of my dress and delved inside, stroking the skin along my spine with a feather light touch. He unhooked the clasps and my bra fell open as he yanked the top of my dress down, leaving me bare to the waist save for the jewelry at my neck.

He released my mouth to trail a kiss down my neck and back up to my ear. "You look so good, baby. I want you."

I shivered in response. I nodded and moved to cover up with my dress, but a hand on my wrist stopped me. I looked up in alarm.

"Don't."

"Come, on, Spencer," I responded. "I know I'm not old, but I don't look the same since Micah. You know that."

"Don't. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known. This." H traced my breasts, again freed from my dress. "And this," he continued, pushing down my dress to caress my stomach. "I wouldn't have you any other way, Sera."

He knelt in front of me, pulling the dress down as he went, hissing when the lacy underwear and garters were revealed. With the dress pooled at my feet, I balanced with a hand on his shoulder. He helped me stop out, throwing it behind him when I was free.

Moving up to stand in front of me, he cupped my face with an uncharacteristic tenderness. Brushing my lips with his, then taking the kiss infinitely deeper. I clutched at his forearms completely rocked by an emotional response that winded me.

I broke the kiss. "Upstairs."

He nodded absentmindedly, hands roving over my body as he shifted us through the kitchen, to the wall that was next to the stairs. Pressing me roughly against it, he hitched one of my legs around his hip and I arched toward him trying to keep as near to him as possible. He twisted us towards the stairs and we stumbled up them alternately kissing and shedding clothes. Spencer stumbled with his pants around his ankles at the top of the steps and I had to kneel down to get them untangled.

Grabbing my hand roughly, he pulled me towards our room, urging me towards the bed when we get there. I fell, holding him in my arms and he landed on top of me, his weight holding me down on the mattress. He paused and eased up on to his forearms.

Brushing hair from my face he murmured, "I love you, Sera."

The words choked in my throat and tears stung my eyes. I looked up at him, his face raw with emotion, I replied, "I love you, too, Spencer."

If I didn't believe his words, I could believe his kiss. The hard press of soft lips. The sweet ache of regret for all the harsh we'd said or done, all the arguments, the guilt. It was an apology, a surrender. Disappointments and accusations lay bare. A heart split open. Giving yourself to someone so much that you felt vulnerable and exposed.

I felt everything that he was trying to say without words and it took my breath away.

I wanted all of him, everywhere. I was desperate for the feel of his skin on mine. He pulled me closer and I was only to eager to follow, crawling as near as I could get into his lap, wrapping my arms around him and drinking in all that he was willing to give.

Which, in that moment, was everything.

He lifted me with his considerable strength and I became mindless with the feel of him inside me. My focus narrowed to the spaces around and in between us. Making them smaller, closer, faster. Every breath was a caress, every sigh spoke a thousand words. Everything I was feeling was translated into a timeless dance of skin and touch, kiss and lips.