Christmas in His Bed: Talking in Your Sleep... / Unwrapped / Kiss & Tell. Carrie Alexander
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in a very precise, male fashion over a tray of frosted goodies—he was gorgeous, inside and out. He was so easygoing, happy to help. He genuinely seemed to like her company, too. Warmth stole through her, and she bit her lip, watching him. The T-shirt he wore was a little damp from the heat and stuck to his skin, revealing the strong muscles of his back, and she lowered her gaze to other delectable regions.
Rafe might be surrounded by sweets, but he was a sexy confection all by himself. She chuckled out loud, and covered her hand to her lips a moment too late. He turned, looking at her, a dab of green sugar at the corner of his lips.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, unaware.
“You’ve been sampling again,” she accused, her eyes transfixed on the sugar.
Following the direction of her stare, he started to lift his hand to remove the evidence, but she stepped forward, halting him. She shut off her mind and followed her instincts for once. It was about time she started taking some of the opportunities for fun that came her way.
“Let me,” she offered, her heart beating furiously as she slipped a hand behind his neck and lifted up to dart her tongue out and lick the sugar away.
He lasted for two strokes of her tongue against his skin until he pulled her up close with a groan and took over, backing her into the counter and kissing her so hard and so thoroughly that she couldn’t breathe, but air was highly overrated anyway. If she’d thought the temperature was hot in the kitchen before, it was rising by degrees as he kissed her.
“Joy, I want you something fierce,” he murmured in her ear, pressing the promise of his erection against her hip. Tension twisted inside of her, invading the moment—should she?
His hand slipped under the T-shirt she was wearing, finding her breasts, closing and rubbing, plucking and caressing the sensitive tips into hard points against his palm. Oh, my, he knew what he was doing, and her body responded to his dedicated, confident touch.
“You like that? How about this?”
Pulling her shirt off right there in her kitchen, he had her topless before she could object, not that she planned to. It was scandalous—the windows were open; she could hear voices out in the yard where a woman next door visited someone else across the fence. They couldn’t see … but they were there, and she and Rafe were … ohhh.
He suckled her so sweetly she dug her fingers into his hair and she managed to quell her moan to a whimper, lest she be heard through the screen door. When he drew away, lapping her skin with his tongue, she objected with a muted groan.
“Come here,” he said, his eyes wicked as he grasped a bowl of frosting they’d been using for cookies.
She held perfectly still, unbearably aroused as he used the soft spatula to completely frost her breasts. Her skin was so hot she figured the confection would melt right off her skin. Rafe smiled devilishly, reaching for some red cinnamon sprinkles. Her eyes went wide.
“Rafe, what are you doing?”
“Decorating you—you are plenty tasty enough all on your own, but this is fun—isn’t it?” He looked at her intently, and she had no choice but to agree.
“Yes, it is.”
He took great care in “decorating” her, and she thought she would go crazy, dying for his mouth on her, waiting interminable minutes before he stepped back to admire his masterpiece. He yanked off his own shirt and hauled her against him for a deep kiss.
“You ruined all that hard work,” she whispered breathlessly as he released her, icing and cinnamon candies smeared all over his chest now, as well.
“Now we get to share,” he said with an evil wiggle of his eyebrows, making her laugh, then moan, as he began licking away the frosting with dedicated thoroughness, his tongue washing every inch of her clean, her body on fire and writhing as he did. She was short of begging him to take her by the time he finished, and she knew he could tell that when he looked at her.
“Do you want this, Joy? Do you want me?”
She’d never wanted anything more. He was like every dream she’d ever had—literally—coming true. But even her dreams, while hot, hadn’t been this fun, this real.
She held his gaze, nodded, and he smiled in heartfelt relief, as if he’d been poised on an edge, waiting. The fact that he seemed to have held his breath for her answer made her feel special. Within seconds he was naked and so was she. A tray of cookies slid noisily to the floor as he made room for her on the counter, his movements sure but urgent.
She couldn’t believe a man, let alone a man like Rafe, wanted her this badly. She could see in the way his eyes raked over her, in the hardness of his body and the tremble of his hand, how much he needed her.
“I’ve never done this before … on a kitchen counter, I mean,” she said hesitantly, watching him grab a condom from his wallet and slide it over his shaft. She was on the pill, but didn’t protest. The next thing she knew, he was flush up against her, that delicious part of him sliding against her heat, though he didn’t make his way inside.
“I hope you’ll find this worth sacrificing a few cookies for,” he teased, planting his palm on the crease of her hip and thigh, his thumb rubbing the hot slit of her flesh, making her gasp in delight. His hand was large and warm, his fingertips slightly rough, probably from the work he was doing on Warren’s house, and the sensations his touch brought forth were mind-blowing.
“What cookies?” she joked breathlessly, arching against him. She curled her fingers around the counter’s edge, positioning herself and opening for him as he eased inside of her, big and hot, filling her completely. She trembled with the completeness of it. Yes, this was better than her dreams—and her dreams had been pretty damned good.
“Definitely worth trashing the cookies,” she said, hearing him chuckle as he began to move, rocking his hips in a steady rhythm, finding her mouth with his and parrying his tongue with hers in the same way.
There was a delectable pressure building inside—something she couldn’t remember experiencing with another man, ever.
Rafe couldn’t seem to stop kissing her, her mouth, her face, her neck, murmuring hot words now and then, but mostly his lips were engaged in kissing every spot of her he could reach as he drove himself forward with increasing speed, touching her everywhere, urging her to come along with him.
She wanted to—she honestly did. Satisfaction hovered on the edge like a lightning bolt on the horizon, ready to strike, but the moment she became conscious of it, the brightness disappeared.
She groaned in frustration—why, why couldn’t she do this simple thing? Her body was obviously willing, though her mind wouldn’t let go. Sex was in the brain, so they said, and she seemed like living proof. Her brain was completely out of sync with her body.
Knowing it wasn’t going to happen, she didn’t intend to risk Rafe’s disappointment. They’d had a perfect day, and she wasn’t going to let on that she couldn’t live up to his expectations.
Turning her attention back to the moment, she relished the strong grip of his hands on her backside, how his fingers pressed in as he buried his face in her neck. Following his gentle cues, she lifted her legs up over his shoulders, increasing the intensity of the vocals she made, indicating she was reaching her climax, and loving how he responded by hammering even harder into her, throwing his head back. She watched him, not entirely minding that she wasn’t completely in the moment; it was worth it just to observe the wild intensity with which he made love to her.
She’d never seen a man so utterly open and uninhibited—and with her. The idea that he reacted to her this way touched a chord deep inside. She couldn’t stop watching him.
No sooner had she become aware of the glimmer of possibility than his jaw clenched tight until he let out a grown of release, fitting himself so tightly into her that she was sure even air couldn’t move between them as he finished. He pulled her against him, his chest