Page 22 of Holly Jolly Heresy
He grunted, a low rough sound, before his fingers dipped between her lips, tracing the place where her fingers disappeared inside her. “Here?” He moved to her clit, soft andrough all at once, pressing against her with firm circles that sent sparks shooting down her legs and across the soles of her feet. “Here?”
“There,” she gasped, lifting her hips into his touch.
“Hmmm.” The sound scraped at her skin. “I touch you here in my dreams too.”
Her stomach tightened, pleasure gathering behind her clit with each brush of his fingers. Between his hands and her own, she was overcome with sensation, and yet she wanted more. “What else do you do in your dreams?” she asked.
He pinched her clit, hard, the sudden bite of pain heightening her pleasure. He thrust against her ass, his thick erection mimicking the movement of her own fingers inside her. “Everything.”
Her orgasm took her by surprise, barreling into her, knocking the air from her lungs as she shook in his arms. He released her clit and resumed his slow, relentless circles, prolonging her climax. With a grunt and another hard thrust, his grinding at her back ceased, his breathing slowed, and she thought his lips whispered against her shoulder. He moved to withdraw his hand, but it was her turn to grip his wrist, to hold him in place.
“Not yet,” she said, the words scraped raw. “It’s just a dream.”
The tension in his body eased and he shifted slightly so his palm cupped her between the legs, keeping her back tight against his front. “Just a dream,” he agreed.
His other hand slid down to her waist, holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe, but she’d gladly stop breathing if she could keep this moment for a little longer. Another one of those whisper kisses, so light she’d wonder later if she’d imagined them.
“Go to sleep, angel.”
Chapter eight
December 23rd
He’d touched her.
He’d held her while she came—while he made her come—and then, grinding against her ass, he’d come in his boxer briefs.
And, Lord help him, he wanted to do it again.
There was no denying it, even to himself. Why should he when she’d liked it? And helikedthat she liked it. He wanted to know what else she might like, how else he might make her tremble in his arms, the taste she would leave on his lips.
He’d woken in her bed, wrapped around her, his cock harder than it’d ever been and his nose buried in her hair, surrounded by the cinnamon and bergamot scent of her shampoo. At some point in the night, the power had come back on, but the fire continued burning in the fireplace across the room, its reflectedglow making her look like the angel he’d called her. She’d shifted in her sleep, snuggling closer, his hands on her bare skin, and he’d panicked.
He wasn’t proud of the way he’d stolen from her bed, of the prayers he’d tried to recite to himself as he showered, but the words hadn’t come. All he could think about was how he didn’t want to wash her scent from his skin, how he wanted to crawl back into her bed and never leave, how he wanted more stolen moments, more of the fantasy that he was the kind of man who could have a future with her. The kind of man who could wake up with her each morning, who could touch her without guilt.
Christ, he wanted to touch her again. To kiss her and taste her, to see her laid out before him and sink into her heat—
Enough. No wonder you couldn’t pray this morning when you’re behaving like a hormonal teenager.
Caleb welcomed the bracing cold as he threw open the back door of the cabin. In the mudroom closet he’d found a pair of snow pants, two sizes too big, and a pair of winter boots, at least two sizes too small, but they were better than freezing in his own inadequate clothing as he trudged through the snow. His glasses fogged up with the steam from his breath, but he couldn’t be bothered with that now. At least hehadhis glasses since wearing day old contacts wasn’t high on his list of things that made for a good time.
He hadn’t planned on going outside in the aftermath of the storm, not until they were plowed out at least, but then he’d spotted the ax in the mudroom and the expanse of evergreens at the edge of the property. They were likely stuck in the cabin for at least another day given the depth of the snow and the news’ warning of downed trees delaying the progress of the snow plows. And by God, if they were stuck two days before Christmas, then he intended to make the best of it. He couldn’tgive her the things she deserved from a man, but he could at least give her a Christmas tree.
The wind had made giant snow drifts on either side of the back door with a central path carved down the middle where the snow only came up to his ankle.
Like Moses parting the Red Sea, he thought to himself as he ventured out into the cold, a borrowed coat from the mudroom zippered against the wind and a scratchy wool hat and scarf completing the outfit.Except God actually spoke to Moses.
Maybe He’d talk to you if you weren’t so easily distracted from your vows by the woman sleeping upstairs.
Great. Now you’re hard again and picturing crawling back into bed with her.
As if you weren’t already.
He tugged the hat lower on his head with one hand, the wooden handle of the ax clutched in his other, his borrowed gloves a welcome shield from the cold. The cabin was surrounded by evergreens of every size and shape, many of which would be perfect Christmas trees, but he wasn’t headed for one of those paragons of yuletide. From the back door of the cabin, he’d spotted the perfect tree—thin trunk, sparse branches, shorter than the others. And if it had the added quality of being something he was fairly certain he could chop down and drag back to the cabin before Molly woke up, that was just the icing on the proverbial cake. He wanted nothing more than to delight her.
Well, he could think of a few things he wanted at least as much—to touch her again, this time in the light when he could see how beautiful she was, to warp the soft heaven between her thighs around him, to ask her to kneel for him, to touch him in return. But he wouldn’t ask for those things, no matter how much he wanted to.
Lead us not into temptation...
