A Dixie Christmas (9 page)

He refused to look
there
.

He was not going to look.

He was looking.

Man, oh, man!

That had been her bra in the bathroom, all right. Her breasts pushed against the thin material, full and uptilted, the nipples puckered into hard peaks. It wasn’t that she was big-busted but because she was so thin, it appeared that way. Good thing she didn’t look like that in her Blessed Mother outfit or she’d have men propositioning her right there in the Nativity scene. Or else she’d get some super tips.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he choked out.

“Like you’re
 . . .
like you’re
 . . .”

“
 . . .
interested?” He couldn’t stop the grin that twitched at his lips.

“Stop smirking. I’m trying to tell you something.”

“Oh?” he said, trying his damnedest not to look at her chest and not to grin with pure, unadulterated anticipation. As a final measure, he clenched his fists at his side to keep from grabbing for her.

“I’m a virgin.”

That was the last thing Clay had expected to hear.

“A virgin?” he squeaked out.
A twenty-eight-year-old virgin?

“Yeah, isn’t that the biggest joke of all?”

She was actually embarrassed by her virginity. Well, it did put a new light on their making love. Not that he didn’t still want her, but it sure as hell wouldn’t take place on a sofa with broken springs in a houseful of gun-toting brothers and an aunt who wielded a wicked spoon. “Annie, why tell me this now?”

“You have a right to know
 . . .
if I’m reading that glimmer in your eye the right way.”

You are.
Clay lowered his lashes and tried his best to curb that “glimmer” in his eye.

“You probably think I’m repressed or gay or ultra-religious. But it’s just that I haven’t had time for dating since my parents died. And Prince Charming doesn’t come riding his charger down the lane to a dairy farm real often.”

“So, I’m the first prince to come your way?” he asked with a laugh.

She slanted him a “Behave Yourself” glare and went on, “Now that you know, I suppose you don’t want me anymore.” She glanced at him shyly and looked away.

He took her chin in his hand and turned her face back to him. Kissing her lips lightly, he murmured, “I still want you.”

A slow, wicked smile spread across her lips. “Stand up, then,” she ordered.

Huh?
With his brow furrowing in confusion, he got up cautiously, bracing himself on one crutch. At the same time, the stereo suddenly came on with Elvis wailing, “It’s Now Or Never.” He jerked back at the unexpected noise and Annie laughed.

“The stereo does that sometimes. There’s a short in its electric circuit, I guess.”

He thought about telling her that was a safety hazard, but decided he had more important things on his mind right now. Like why she’d wanted him to stand, and why she was staring at him, arms folded across her chest, with that odd expression on her face. She was probably afraid, being a virgin and all. It was sweet of her, actually.

“Don’t be afraid, Annie. I won’t do anything to hurt you.”

She laughed, a joyous, rippling sound mingling with Elvis’s husky Now-or-Never warning.

That was probably nervous laughter, Clay concluded. Still, he tilted his head to the side, questioning. “Annie?”

“Take off your shirt, Clay. Please.”

Her softly spoken words ambushed him. With a quick intake of breath, he almost swallowed his tongue.

“Reeeaal slow.”

Chapter Four

What the lady wants, the lady gets . . .

Annie could see that she’d shocked Clay, but she didn’t care. This was her big chance.

Just because she was a virgin didn’t mean she was a dried-up old spinster with no needs. Like she’d told him before, there weren’t many princes who ambled on down their farm lane. And when one not-so-perfect specimen accidentally rode in, well, heck, she’d be a fool not to drag him down off his horse and have her way with him.

“I have needs,” she told him matter-of-factly.

“Needs?” he choked out. Geez, the man looked as if he was choking on his own tongue. Where was the suave, cool-as-a-hybrid-cucumber man who could cut a person off at the knees with a single icy stare?

Okay, sometimes Annie forgot that city people didn’t understand the plain speaking of farm folks who lived with the facts of life on a daily basis. Those who worked with the land and animals tended to be more earthy, more accepting of the forces of nature. Sex was just another of the physical urges God gave all animals, nothing to be embarrassed about. At least, that’s what she told herself. If she didn’t justify her behavior in that way, she’d have to admit she was a lust-driven hussy with a compulsion to jump the poor prince’s royal bones.

“Yep. Needs,” she answered with more bravado than she really had. If he rejected her, she was going to crawl in a hole and never come out. “So shuck that shirt, honey. I’ve been having indecent thoughts ever since I saw you in the emergency room in those cute little boxer shorts.”

Stains of scarlet bloomed on his face at her mention of his boxers. Or was it her needs turning up his internal thermometer?

“This is a joke, right?” Clay said, backing up a bit till his back hit the wall. He probably needed it to support his sore foot, or maybe his suddenly weak knees.

Oh, swell! I’m scaring him. Slow down, Annie. Play it cool. Pretend he’s just hairy old Frankie Wilks.

Hah!

“No joke, Clay. You have a chest that would cause a cloistered nun to melt, and I already have a fever to begin with. So take off the darn shirt, for crying out loud.” Her voice had turned shrill at the end.

“All right, all right,” he said, raising a palm in surrender. “Let’s backtrack to step one. You want me to take off my shirt because you like my chest?”

“Yes.” She stood and walked slowly toward him.

He smiled then, one of those glorious deals that bared his even white teeth and caused those irresistible dimples to play peek-a-boo with her heart. “What if someone walks in
 . . .
like your aunt?”

She pooh-poohed that idea. “Do you think Aunt Liza hasn’t seen a male chest before? In a house with five males?”

“But Annie,” Clay explained with exaggerated patience. “If you want me to take off my shirt, I’m pretty sure I’ll be wanting you to take off your shirt.” He flashed her a “So there!” grin.

“Oh.” Delicious images swam in Annie’s head at that suggestion. She stood several feet away from him, but she could feel his heat. “Well, I guess I forgot to mention that Aunt Liza is dead to the world once her head hits the pillow. Her alarm clock, set religiously at 4 a.m., is the only thing that will awaken her now.”

“Yes, you did forget to mention that fact.” His grin didn’t waver at all. “And your brothers?”

“The same. Besides, there’s an unwritten rule in the Fallon house. Nobody walks in unannounced on a courting couple
 . . .
not that you and I are courting, mind you. Don’t get your feathers all ruffled in that regard. I’m not out to trap you.”

“My feathers aren’t ruffled,” he protested indignantly. Then, understanding that they wouldn’t be interrupted, he immediately pulled off the flannel shirt and raised the tee shirt over his head. Superman couldn’t have done it faster. After that, standing still, he waited for her to make the next move. He wasn’t smiling now.

He was so beautiful. Wide shoulders. Narrow waist and hips. A thin frame, but not too thin. Muscles delineating his upper arms and forearms and the planes of his chest and abdomen—not muscle builder, puffed-up flesh, just healthy, fit male muscle. Dark silky hairs peppered his chest, leading down in a vee to the low-riding jeans.

Under her sweeping appraisal, he never once lowered his eyes. Women faltered under such close scrutiny, but not men
 . . .
not this man.

“Can I touch you?” she whispered.

The hard ridges of his stomach muscles lurched.

Heat curled in her stomach, almost a mirroring reflection.

At first, he closed his eyes and a low strangled sound emerged from his lips. He appeared to be out of breath, panting. When he lifted his eyelids, Annie almost staggered backwards under the onslaught of the blue fire. “If you
don’t
touch me, I think I’ll go up in smoke,” he whispered back.

Well, that sounds encouraging.
She stepped closer and put her hands on his shoulders. He tried to take her in his arms, but Annie swatted his hands away. She wanted to do this herself, with no distractions. “Let me
 . . .
I want
 . . .
,” she murmured, her brain reeling with a feverish urgency. “I want to do things to you. So many things.”
Things? What things? Where are these outlandish thoughts coming from? And how am I getting up the nerve to say them aloud?

“Annie
 . . .
,” he started to say, then paused, lost for words. “You take my breath away.”

“Don’t move,” she ordered and ran her fingertips down both sides of his tension-corded neck, over his shoulders, skimming over the light furring on his arms to his hands where she twined their fingers for one brief moment, raising the knuckles of one hand, then the other for a brief kiss. She released his hands then, setting them back at his side.

Smoothing the palms of her hands across his chest, she felt his heartbeat thud. She watched in fascination as the flat male nipples hardened and elongated.

Clay gritted out one crude word between clenched teeth. Annie decided to take the expletive as a compliment.

She couldn’t resist then. Lowering her head, she licked one nipple, sucked it into her mouth, rolled it between her lips.

“Omygod, omygod, omygod!” Clay exclaimed, snaking out a hand to grasp her nape, then lift her into an embrace where her hips cradled his erection. He was still braced against the wall, thank heavens! Otherwise, they would have probably fallen. Alternately kissing her with a devouring hunger and growling into the curve of her neck, he ended up cupping her buttocks and rocking her against him. All the time he was overcome with a violent shiver.

Incredibly, Annie felt herself approaching climax. It was way too soon for that, and not the way she wanted it to happen.

It was Clay who slowed the action. Setting her away from him, he said in a grainy rasp, “Do you know what I want, Annie-love?”

She cocked her head to the side. “I think so.”

“Not
that
, silly girl. I mean, yes, I want
that
, but not now. What I really want is to feel your skin against mine.”

It took several moments for his words to sink in. When they did, Annie felt a thrill of excitement ripple through her already oversensitized body. She jerked off her flannel shirt, then drew the tee shirt up and over her head, leaving only a plain, white nylon bra. Through its thin fabric, her small nipples stood out with stiff, pale rose peaks, aching for his touch.

His eyes studied her with apparent appreciation. He licked his lips as he waited for her final unveiling. When the wispy bra fell to the floor, his eyes seemed to water up. “Oh, Annie, you are so beautiful.”

She wasn’t beautiful, Annie knew that. But it was nice that he found her appealing. She wanted to be beautiful for him.

“It’s your turn now, sweetheart. Don’t move,” he said then, giving equal attention to her body, murmuring compliments to each part examined by his tantalizing fingers and feathery kisses. When he came to her breasts, Annie’s heart stood still. First he raised them up from underneath in the palms of his hands, then skimmed both nipples with the pads of his thumbs. By the time he angled his head down to wet one, then the other with his lips and tongue, and finally suckled rhythmically, Annie was mewling with an increasing frenzy.