Married Till Christmas. Christine Rimmer
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So much better.
There was time for teasing. And there was time for overwhelming, intense kisses, for his big fingers inside her, playing her so well that she shattered in the space between two ragged breaths.
And, after that, he only played her some more, adding his wonderful mouth to the equation, until she was crying out, clutching his head, begging him, “Please, please, Deck. Please make it now. Oh, yes. Like that...”
After the third time he carried her to the peak, tumbling over, she took charge, pushing him to his back, worshipping every hard, glorious inch of his body the way he’d done to hers. She traced the tendons and veins on those big arms of his, bit the hard, high bulge of his biceps, followed the crisp trail of hair across his broad chest.
And on down.
She wrapped both hands around him and lowered her mouth to him. Somehow, for a little while, he held his natural inclination to take control in check. She savored every second of having all the power, taking him deep, relaxing her throat.
Taking him deeper still.
In the end, he couldn’t help himself. He had to take the lead, even in her pleasuring of him. He cradled her head between his big hands, holding her still for him.
She relaxed into it, letting him do what he wanted with her. It was glorious, so good. And at the last second he did let go, he let it happen, let himself go over. She looked up at him on his knees above her, his big head thrown back, a long, deep groan rolling from his throat.
She drank every drop of him. He tasted like the ocean, salty and rich.
Then he pulled her up to him, into his arms, settling her close to him in the tangle of sheets and blankets. He stroked her hair, traced the bumps of her spine, rested his broad hand in the naked curve of her waist.
Did she sleep for a little? It seemed she must have.
There were dreams, of the two of them, in the good times, years ago. Laughing together by a campfire, sharing a whole conversation in a glance across a classroom, walking the hallways at Justice Creek High, his arm across her shoulders, his body pressed just right along her side.
Invincible. That was how she’d felt with him. That as long as they were together, nothing could beat them. They ruled their private world of two.
He never knew what might happen at home. His father always had some big plan in the works that never seemed to pan out. Deck had never talked about it much, but Nell knew things hadn’t been easy for him and Marty. The way Nell understood it, Keith McGrath loved his family, but he was just always distracted. He couldn’t seem to get a job and hold on to it. The McGrath family struggled constantly just to get by.
Nell’s issues weren’t nearly so bad. But it was no fun, what went on in her family. When her dad’s first wife died, he’d married her mother and moved Willow into the house he’d built for wife number one. Nell had still been living at home then, so she’d moved, too. It was awful, going home to the house that had belonged to her father’s first wife, to her resentful half sister Elise and Elise’s best friend, Tracy, who had been taken in by Elise’s mom years before, when Tracy’s parents died suddenly. Elise always acted so prissy and ladylike. However, being ladylike didn’t stop her from coming up with new ways to torture Nell. It was a war in the Bravo mansion back in those days, a war in which Nell fought just as dirty as Elise.
But sometimes, even though you don’t believe it could ever happen when life is crappy, things do get better. It had for Elise and Nell. Now, she and Elise were tight. They would do anything for each other. Too bad they didn’t know back then how it would all work out.
It was the same with loving Deck, really. She’d been so happy with him in high school. Looking back, she was glad she hadn’t known how it would turn out with him. She’d had no clue that he would shatter her poor heart and that it would take her forever to recover from losing him.
Like that ancient Garth Brooks song that her mother used to love, where life was a dance and if you’d known ahead of time how bad a loss was going to be, you might have just said no to whatever was destined to break your heart.
But if you said no to love, you would miss the dance.
And, really, now that she was over it, over him, she could let herself admit that the dance of their young love had been pretty damn spectacular.
She could honestly say now, at last, after all these years, that she wouldn’t have missed loving Deck for the world.
As for this brief, thoroughly magical reunion they were sharing? No way would she have wanted to miss this, either.
She tipped her head back to look at him.
His eyes were open, watching, waiting.
She offered her mouth and he took it.
The magic began again.
And when he got the condom from the bedside drawer, she took it from him, rolling it down over him. He rose above her, his eyes gleaming almost golden in the light from the lamp.
He came into her and she took him, deep and true. She wrapped her whole body around him and they moved together, in perfect rhythm, all the way to the top of the world and over into free fall.
She called his name, among other things. She had no idea what crazy words came out of her mouth as her body pulsed around him.
All she knew was that it was perfect, this moment. This last dance together with the boy she’d once loved beyond all reason.
He wasn’t that boy anymore. And she was no longer the girl who had given her heart and trusted him not to break it.
Which was fine. As it should be.
And this, tonight, was just what she’d needed, a Las Vegas fling with the grown-up Deck McGrath.
* * *
In the gray light of the next morning, he reached for her. She melted into him. They made love, sweet and slow.
After the loving, they ordered room service. They had breakfast in bed and then made love again. They took a long bath. Together.
And made love again.
More than half the day had passed and all they’d done was eat breakfast and take a bath—oh, and the lovemaking. Lots and lots of lovemaking. She was dizzy with it, swept away into a beautiful, sensual dream, a private fantasy, a lush, secret world containing just the two of them.
By late afternoon, he let her go down to her room. But only long enough to shower, put on a little makeup and get dressed. He was at her door a half an hour after she’d left his suite.
He started kissing her. No surprise where that led.
Finally, they both agreed they needed to get out, have some dinner. The big bed would be right there waiting for them when they returned.
She put her dress back on. He ordered a car and off they went to an Italian place he knew about. The food was wonderful and there was a really nice Chianti. Maybe she had a little more of that than she should have.
They got back in the limo.
Deck shut the privacy screen between them and the driver. They glided up and down the strip, making love. Even through the tinted windows, the bright lights reached them and played a symphony of color across their naked skin.
There was champagne. Dom Pérignon.
“When did you order champagne?” she asked, sitting there naked, feeling satisfied, shimmery all over, somehow. It was really quite wonderful.
He said, “You are so beautiful, Sparky. Bold and strong and so damn smart. More than any man deserves in this life. There is no one, no one, like you.”
His words poured over her. They made her feel special. Treasured. Loved.
He never did answer about the champagne, not that she really cared. He popped the cork and gently pushed