Page 36 of Claiming His Christmas Angel

Octavia accepted the undergarment, then stepped to one side and stretched out her hand to tug the other one off the fire screen. As her fingertips touched the woolen stocking, she realized she’d misgauged the distance. In a split second, she lost her balance and stumbled into Atticus. Sinewy arms wrapped around her and pulled her into his chest.

Fingers pressing into hard muscles, Octavia could feel his rapid heartbeat. Startled at how fast his heart was pounding, she jerked her gaze upward to meet his blue eyes. They were stormy with an emotion that alarmed and excited her at the same time. She watched his throat move as he swallowed hard, and her mouth went dry as his fingers pressed deeper into her waist.

She knew she should push herself out of his arms, but she didn’t move as his warm, male scent invaded her senses. Dear God, but the man smelled as wonderful as he looked. A low, rumbling noise reverberated out of him, before he lowered his head and kissed her for a third time today. The heat of his lips against hers sent her reeling, and if he’d not been holding her, she was certain she would be swaying on her feet like a tree in a wild storm.

This kiss was unlike the one this morning, or even the one after supper. This caress carried a different, much more fervent urgency to it. His lips didn’t try to coax a response from her. They demanded she yield to him, and she surrendered without hesitating. Instinct guided her to wrap her arms around his neck, then press herself deeper into his hard, powerful body.

In the back of her mind, she knew this was madness, but she didn’t allow herself to think. All she wanted was to revel in the heat of his caress. Not even in her most vivid dreams had she dreamt his kiss would be this wonderful. His tongue slid along the seam of her mouth in an insistent demand she part her lips, and she obeyed. The instant his tongue swept into her mouth, she murmured a quiet sound of pleasure.

The spicy, almost peppery taste of ginger from his dessert danced across her tongue as it tangled and mated with his. It heightened the fiery sensation of his kiss. There had been moments in the past where a man had stolen a quick kiss from her, but nothing like this. Never had she ever imagined a man’s mouth against hers could be such a glorious, hedonistic assault on her senses.

Exhilaration sent small frissons across her skin, and the sudden sensation of his hand sliding up to cup the side of her breast made her shiver. Desire slid through her limbs until her body cried out with a need for something far more wickedly delicious than his kiss. Dear God, she wanted his hands caressing her far more intimately.

Almost as if he’d read her mind, a dark groan vibrated against her lips, and the moment a large, male hand tugged her gown up over her knee, she gasped with excitement. Cool air swirled around her legs as the hem of her dress brushed across her thigh. Before she could even think, strong fingers glided over the top of her leg, and she whimpered at the light touch.

Uncaring of anything but the need streaming through her, she thrust her hips forward into his. He shuddered, and she felt his hard thickness pressing into the apex of her thighs. One blistering sensation after another cascaded and pulsed their way through her. Firm fingers glided over her calf in a sensual caress as his lips blazed a fiery trail across her cheek, then down the side of her neck.

Anticipation swept through her, and her breathing became small, erratic pants of desire. Heart pounding wildly in her breast, Octavia’s breath hitched with delight as his long, male fingers brushed across her sex. The light touch made her jerk against him and as he nibbled at her throat, she sighed his name. Atticus immediately froze against her and jerked his hand out from under her skirts.

“Christ Jesus,” he rasped. “What the hell am I doing?”

The low, dark note in his voice made Octavia stiffen as she blinked in confusion. Bile rose in her throat as the appalled expression on Atticus’s handsome features registered in her head. Mortified by her wanton behavior and his brutal rejection, Octavia tried to push herself out of his embrace. When he held her fast, she tried harder to twist her way free of his grasp, but his strong arms refused to release her.

“Forgive me, Octavia,” he said hoarsely as he stared down at her. “I told you I wasn’t like other men, yet my behavior today makes me out to be a liar.”

Embarrassment latched onto Octavia’s insides. Stomach lurching with humiliation, a chill swept across her skin as she managed to free herself from his arms with a vicious twist of her body. Desperate to flee the room, Octavia stumbled backward, then spun away from him. The awkward move caused her shoe to catch on an uneven section of the floor rug.

She paid a high price as her body headed in one direction, and her ankle refused to pivot and follow. Pain lashed through her ankle as she uttered a sharp cry, then collapsed in a heap on the floor. Atticus was kneeling beside her in two seconds.

“Are you hurt?” Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the gentle, soothing note in his voice

“I’m fine.”

Her voice cracked with pain and humiliation as she tried to block out the throbbing in her ankle. Octavia batted Atticus’s hand away from her and tried to stand on her own. The moment she applied pressure to her foot, her ankle gave way beneath her. This time she was forced to blink back the tears forming in her eyes as she crumpled to the floor once more.

“Is it your ankle?”

The soft warmth in his words made her tremble. Dear God, it was bad enough that the man could reduce her to a shuddering mass of nerves when his voice vibrated with an invitation for her to be wicked and sinful with him. But the tender regard running through his voice right now threatened to undo her completely. Firm fingers caught her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.

Concern glittered in the dark, stormy depths of the blue eyes meeting hers, and another tremor spiraled through her. Unable to trust her voice not to be steady, she looked away from him and tried to stand again. When she failed, Atticus muttered something incoherent.

Without warning, his arms slid under her to pull her close and cradle her against his chest. The man didn’t even grunt as he rose from the floor with her in his arms. The ease with which he’d lifted her off the floor was impressive. However, it didn’t change the fact her size had to be testing his strength. With a gasp, she stared up at him in horror.

“What in heaven’s name are you doing?”

“Carrying you upstairs to your bed, and then I’m going to find something to wrap around your ankle.”

“You cannot possibly be serious.”

Any second now, he’d begin to show signs of his muscles protesting and straining to hold her weight. Not to mention how much his body would protest if the man insisted on carrying her up a flight of stairs.

“I’m…I know I cannot be…I am far too…too…”

“Plump?”

“Ye…yes,” she choked out as mortification threatened to swallow her whole.

Cheeks hot with embarrassment, Octavia averted her gaze. It was bad enough he’d just rejected her, but hearing Atticus call her plump was devastating. Worse, it made her heart ache, and she didn’t like how it felt. A dark rumble reverberated in Atticus’s chest.