A Dream Christmas. Кэрол Мортимер
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idea that somehow my life was so easy, I didn’t deserve what I had.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“In the end, I think he was the lucky one,” Luc said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, for all of his flaws, and he has them, he knows how to love people. I don’t. That’s why Marie couldn’t be with me. It’s why my father and I found things difficult. But he managed to love my fiancée enough to excuse his behavior. Then she left him spectacularly, just as she did to me, and he went on to love his wife, Ella. I just … can’t.”
“Why not, Luc?” she asked, pain lacing her voice. And he hated himself for that. For making her sad. That seemed to be his whole life. His reality was just not something people wanted to deal with. Not something they wanted to hear.
“I think you have to see love early. I think you have to learn it. And I never had the chance. I was too busy protecting myself from my father’s fists. Sometimes unsuccessfully. But I closed everything down inside myself at a young age, and I don’t think I could open it up now if I wanted to.”
She wiggled and turned so that she was facing him, her blue eyes glittering with emotion. “If it’s still in there, then there’s hope,” she said.
“You’re such an optimist, Amelia. I think that’s why I find you so fascinating. You see things with a ring of brightness around them. I envy that. I never did before I met you.”
“Nice to know I’ve made an impact.” She kissed him, closing her eyes tight. He kept his open for a moment, so that he could watch her. So that he could see just how much of herself she was putting into the kiss. It humbled him. Fascinated him. Made him envious. Made him conscious of every lock he’d put on his emotions all those years ago.
She climbed onto his lap, pushing his back against the edge of the couch, reaching behind him and picking up a condom—one of the many they’d left handy—holding it up in front of her. “I want you,” she said. “Even though you are a grump who doesn’t think he can love people.”
Something about her words felt hot. Painful. They settled deep and he could feel them. Was so very aware of the fact that they’d changed something in him just because he’d heard them.
She dropped the blanket to her waist, baring her breasts, the damp center of her pressing against his hardened arousal. She rocked her hips against him and he put his hand on her lower back, holding her tight.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said.
“I hope not,” she said. “I’m not finished with you yet.” She smiled, she always smiled, even when she was playing the vixen, and tore the condom packet open, taking out the protection and reaching between them, rolling it over his length.
“Aren’t you sore?” he asked, genuinely concerned, but hoping that she wasn’t.
“In the best way,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and flexing her hips so that the slick entrance to her body came into contact with the head of him.
She lowered herself onto him slowly, biting her lip, her eyes never leaving his. So sincere, his Amelia. She felt everything and she held nothing back. It was painful to see. Painful and exquisite. And so much more than he deserved.
She moved over him, taking him in deeper before retreating, then repeating the motion. She clasped her hands behind his neck, holding on to him as she took them both closer to the edge.
He tightened his hold on her hips and pulled her downward, harder, farther. She closed her eyes, a raw, sexual sound escaping her lips as she let her head fall back. If anything was more beautiful than her smile, it was this. Amelia. Lost in pleasure. Lost in him.
He could happily keep her like this forever.
He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to shift the weight that had settled on his chest. Forever wasn’t an option. There would never be anything past today. But they had today. They had now.
Fire crackled along his veins, need, desire, building in him until he couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Until he thought he might be reduced to ash. As though this moment might destroy him forever.
He gritted his teeth, tried to hold his climax back, tried to wait for her. But he was too close. It was too much. His control slipped its leash, and the fire turned into a raging blaze, hotter, more furious than he could have ever imagined.
He came on a roar, and she followed, leaning forward and biting his shoulder, the searing pain adding to the intensity, adding to the impossible surge of sensation that was filling his body.
She melted against him, her skin damp with sweat, her breasts pressed into his chest, her head rested in the curve of his neck, her cheek directly over the place that still burned from her teeth sinking into him.
“Oh, Luc,” she said, her breathing hard, fast. “I … I love you.”
He stiffened and pushed her away gently so that he could see her face. “You what?”
“I love you. I’m really sorry that I’m saying this now. And I’m sorry that I’m saying it at all. Because you warned me. You told me how things were and you just explained everything to me and I won’t even pretend that I understand what you went through. And I’m not going to tell you that it should be different for you. Because that’s not fair. I’m not you and I don’t understand what you’ve been through. But … it doesn’t change how I feel. And I would … break the damn locks off your feelings boxes if I could. Or hope that I had a key somewhere, which would be better than breaking things all willy-nilly inside you, but I’m just saying, if I didn’t have a key I would.”
“Amelia … this is …” He lifted her from him and deposited her on the carpeted floor, her blanket beneath her. “I told you.”
“I know. But this is the thing, Luc. I think it’s always been you for me.”
“What?”
“Clint obviously had his reasons for putting off making love with me, for putting off the wedding, but I obviously wasn’t rushing toward the altar, or the bed either. And then … two days with you has taken me from virgin to sexpert. It’s not random, Luc. I think when I met you, something in me knew, just knew, that there was never going to be anyone who made me feel quite like you.”
“That’s now, Amelia. That’s not forever. It’s not ages with a man who is emotionally nonfunctional. I barely wish me on me, I would never wish me on you.”
“But that’s sort of my decision, isn’t it? What if I don’t want love and marriage? What if I just want to be with someone who makes me feel wanted? Is that so bad? I mean … am I crazy?”
“You’re not crazy, Amelia. But you don’t know what you want.”
“Hold. On. You do not get to tell me whether or not I get to sing Christmas carols in my head and you absolutely do not get to tell me what I feel.” Her blue eyes were glistening with tears and he felt it, like a knife twisting in his chest. He was hurting her, breaking her, this beautiful, brilliant woman. And there was nothing he could do to stop himself.
Because it was what he had to do.
What he wanted was to tell her to stay. To tell her to never leave him, no matter that he couldn’t give her back what she needed. He wanted to say to hell with her needs. Her feelings. And hold her to him, so that he could have a little bit of light. Just a little bit.
But he knew what happened to a flame that couldn’t breathe. That didn’t get what it needed. He would only extinguish her light. And then not only would he be in darkness, he’d be responsible for hers, as well.
“You’re noble, Amelia. But you don’t always have to do this,” he said, his tone cold.
“What?”
“You don’t have