“Yes. You notice things I don’t. You see things I don’t. Ilook at snow and I see traffic issues and grounded planes. You see something magical.”
He lowered his head and kissed her, gently at first and then more deeply, and she felt that kiss right through her body, shimmering across her skin and sinking deep into her bones and her soul. If they’d ever had a more intimate connection she couldn’t think of it. Her mouth and body were locked against his and in that moment he was all hers and she was all his.
His hands were gentle as he eased her dress away from her shoulders, her name on his lips as he moved aside the silken waterfall of her hair with gentle fingers and kissed his way down her neck. She felt the roughness of his jaw, teasing sensitive flesh and then his mouth returned to hers, as if he was unable to resist that most intimate contact. She melted under the skilled slide of his tongue and the erotic brush of his fingers, her eyes closing against the twinkling Christmas lights. There should have been darkness but everything inside her was lit up and sparkling, her senses alive and on fire.
Without easing her mouth from his she stripped away his shirt and fumbled with his belt, urgency making her uncoordinated.
She opened her eyes, needing to see as well as feel and she gave a shiver of delicious anticipation as she met the dark intensity of his gaze. For a moment she felt shy, which was ridiculous of course because it was Declan and it was far from their first time, but somehow it had never felt quite likethis.
The Christmas tree bathed the room in a warm glow and they sank to the floor next to the soft heap of their abandoned clothing, locked together in a pool of shimmering light, too desperate for each other to take the few steps to the comfort of the bed that awaited them.
She slid her fingers through the gleaming layers of his hair, then stroked her hands over his shoulders, her palms lingering on the swell of muscle, a gasp on her lips as he teased thesensitive tip of her breast with his tongue and then moved slowly down her body, each teasing stroke making her breath come a little faster.
None of it was enough. Whatever he did, she wanted more and she writhed and arched, urging him on because this was what she wanted and she wanted it now. His mouth found hers again, his kiss deep and hungry and she felt the pleasure shoot through her body in tiny shivers and flares of heat. He closed his hands over her hips and shifted her and she felt the familiar weight of him, the delicious heaviness, and then the intimate pressure as he finally surged into her, his desperation every bit as great as hers. He silenced her soft gasp with his mouth, his breath mingling with hers as they moved, and he kept kissing her all the way through the wild adventure, occasionally lifting his mouth just enough to tell her how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, and how perfect.
And she knew she wasn’t perfect but he made her feel perfect and when the pleasure raced over them she held him and he held her and it felt like nothing she’d ever experienced before. It was a new level of intimacy, their connection deepened by new discoveries, by curiosity, by acceptance, and she knew in her heart that this relationship was so right that no matter what challenges came their way in the future, they’d deal with them together.
Later, much later, she lay with her head on his chest and her limbs wound around his, feeling closer to him than she ever had before.
She felt sated and satisfied and overwhelmed with happiness.
“I was wondering—” she stroked her hand over his abdomen, her fingers lingering, “how is your first family Christmas going so far?”
He gave a soft laugh. “I’m enjoying it more than I thought was possible.” He shifted slightly. “Although this floor is hard.”
She smiled against his shoulder. “I’m very comfortable.”
“That’s because you’re lying on me, not the floor.” He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “But it’s okay. And given that you’re virtually lying under the tree, does that make you my Christmas gift?”
“I’m already yours. You can’t gift the same thing twice.”
They heard the faint sound of footsteps somewhere beyond the door and both of them froze.
She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a giggle. “I feel like a naughty teenager.”
He pressed his lips to her hair. “If you did those things when you were a teenager then you were definitely naughty.”
They were talking in whispers, the words for them alone, the exchange as intimate as everything else they’d shared.
“You’re cold.” He smoothed his hands over her skin and eased himself upright, pulling her with him to the bed.
They snuggled under cosy layers, adopting the same position they had on the floor.
She kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’ve actually never had sex in my parents’ house before.”
“Did we even remember to lock the door?”
“I don’t have a lock on my door. My mother has been nagging my dad to do something about that for ten years.”
“I’m glad I didn’t know that before. It might have given me performance anxiety.”
She gave a gurgle of laughter and buried her face in his chest to smother it. She could have stayed like this for the rest of Christmas. “The sex was amazing, but so was the talking. I’m glad we finally had a proper conversation.”
“So am I and it’s my fault that we didn’t do it sooner. You kept trying to get me to talk about it.”
She snuggled closer. “You have to get to things in your own time. I understand that. You’re like Becky. You prefer to ignore your feelings.”
“That’s true to an extent and I definitely need to work onthat because I understand now that if I don’t tell you how I’m feeling, your imagination will simply fill in the gaps and I’d rather we worked with the facts.” He stroked her back, his hand lingering on the curve of her hip. “But on this occasion, that wasn’t why I didn’t want to talk.”
