Read Her Christmas Pleasure Online
Authors: Karen Erickson
Her Christmas Pleasure
Her Christmas Pleasure
By Karen Erickson
Damien Morton is madly in love. Unfortunately, it's with his best friend's widow, Lady Danver. Damien is not worthy of Celia. Or so he thinks. Desperate to escape his feelings for her, he plans to leave the country at the first of the year. Celia treats him as a family friend and nothing more—until they share a heated kiss beneath the mistletoe…
Celia is shocked by the passions that surge within her at her dear friend's kiss. One touch and one taste aren't enough to satisfy her cravings, and she is startled into action. Damien has stirred something inside her that she never expected to experience again, and she must have more. Full of shameless desire and emotions newly discovered, she decides to pursue Damien and won't be deterred. Will she be able to convince him to stay—both in her heart and life—forever?
20,000 words
Dear Reader,
What do you get when you cross summer with lots of beach time, and long hours of traveling? An executive editor who's too busy to write the Dear Reader letter, but has time for reading. I find both the beach and the plane are excellent places to read, and thanks to plenty of time spent on both this summer (I went to Australia! And New Zealand!) I'm able to tell you with confidence: our fall lineup of books is outstanding.
We kick off the fall season with seven romantic suspense titles, during our Romantic Suspense celebration in the first week of September. We're pleased to offer novella
Fatal Destiny
by Marie Force as a free download to get you started with the romantic suspense offerings. Also in September, fans of Eleri Stone's sexy, hot paranormal romance debut novel,
Mercy,
can look forward to her follow-up story,
Redemption,
set in the same world of the Lost City Shifters.
Looking to dive into a new erotic romance? We have a sizzling trilogy for you. In October, look for Christine D'Abo's Long Shots trilogy featuring three siblings who share ownership of a coffee shop, and each of whom discover steamy passion within the walls of a local sex club. Christine's trilogy kicks off with
Double Shot.
In addition to a variety of frontlist titles in historical, paranormal, contemporary, steampunk and erotic romance, we're also pleased to present two authors releasing backlist titles with us. In October, we'll re-release four science fiction romance titles from the backlist of C.J. Barry, and in November four Western romance titles from the backlist of Susan Edwards.
Also in November, we're thrilled to offer our first two chick lit titles from three debut authors,
Liar's Guide to True Love
by Wendy Chen and
Unscripted
by Natalie Aaron and Marla Schwartz. I hope you'll check out these fun, sometimes laugh-out-loud novels.
Whether you're on the beach, on a plane, or sitting in your favorite recliner at home, Carina Press can offer you a diverting read to take you away on your next great adventure this fall!
We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
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“So, do tell. Who is this woman who’s stolen your heart?”
Damien turned to look at Celia, panic racing through his veins. How had she found out? Had he been that obvious? He’d never confessed his secret to anyone. Certainly not to her.
Offering a polite smile, he cocked his head to the side, his brows drawn together in feigned ignorance. “Whatever do you mean?”
She smiled, her golden-green eyes dancing merrily, every bit the saucy minx he knew her to be, for she’d been a friend for years. As of late he’d yearned for so much more with her. She was the only woman who ever mattered in his life. “Come now, Damien. You’ve been in a dreadful mood since you arrived. Perhaps you’re missing a special lady?”
He frowned. She couldn’t be further from the truth. Indeed, the special lady she spoke of existed.
But he was looking right at her, though she hadn’t a clue.
And she never would.
“I apologize for my somber mood.” He nodded, enchanted with the mischievous smile curling her lush lips. Her mouth was made for sin. He’d imagined more than once her doing all sorts of things to his body with that mouth. Decadent, wicked things no man suggested to a lady of her station.
And he was so far beneath her station he had no right to even
think
of such wicked acts.
“Oh, do stop acting the proper gentleman. It’s just me.” Celia shook her head, wayward tendrils of dark brown hair brushing against her flushed cheeks. Pretty rounded cheeks he longed to kiss. Caress with his fingers. Whisper sweet words against…
“Indeed. So I shall treat you like the pesky little sister and tell you to shove off.”
She laughed at his grouchy statement, the sweet sound causing longing to rise within him. A longing he’d be able to stave off for all these torturous years.
But he couldn’t endure it any longer. Every time he was near Celia, the urge to tell her how he felt was too strong. He’d almost slipped numerous times since arriving two nights ago, clamping his lips shut before the words tumbled out.
To slip would be disastrous. An act he might never recover from. For surely she would refuse—or even worse, laugh. Call him silly, slap him on the arm like she usually did and tell him to stop fooling.
He wasn’t fooling. He was madly in love with her.
“You’d never behave in such a manner. You’ve always been so kind to me.” She curled her arm through his and squeezed, leaning her head against his shoulder. His eyes closed at the quick contact, and he savored the sensation of her touching him and the scent of her hair. She acted as if she cared.
His eyes flew open.
Blast.
He knew she cared. She just didn’t care for him in the manner he wanted her to.
His agonizing predicament was further exacerbated by his leaving. He’d expressed to the Earl of Urswick well over a year ago his interest in finding another position, preferably abroad. Within the last month, Urswick had made his wish come true. Damien was leaving England to work for a marquis with a rather grand estate in
the French countryside.
“You were my best friend’s wife.” His mouth dried at his reference to Lawrence. “Of course I’m kind to you. I promised him I would look after you.” While the man had lain dying on a makeshift cot in a tattered, dirty tent in the middle of a bloody battle, Lawrence had begged him to take care of his wife. And now not only did he lust for the woman, but he was leaving. Breaking his promise.
He was the most despicable of men.
She watched him with big, liquid eyes. The adoring glow in her gaze threw him.
“That was so long ago. He wouldn’t hold you to your word forever.”
“I wouldn’t want to disappoint.” The words came out a tad too quick, sounded a bit too firm, and he winced at her subtle withdrawal. She drew her arm from his and took a step back. The expression on her face almost…wounded. Guarded.
He frowned once more. What the deuce? Was he so enraptured with Celia he didn’t even know how to talk to her any longer?
“Oh, look. They’re standing under the mistletoe! Now you must kiss her!”
They both stopped at the excited proclamation made by Celia’s father-in-law. Damien glanced up and saw the offending bundle of greenery tied with a cheery red bow hanging above them. It was both an opportunity and a curse, the mistletoe. It offered him the chance to kiss the one woman he wanted.
If she turned away from him and refused his chaste advance under this silly holiday pretense, he would be crushed.
Forever.
“I believe this means you must kiss me.” There was a tremor in her sweet voice. Tipping her head back in offering, she pursed her lips. Her lids lowered, thick black lashes veiling her eyes. “I haven’t been kissed by a handsome man in so long I might not remember how.”
He stared at her. Had she called him handsome? He didn’t realize she even noticed him at all. He was a man with no family, no title and no tangible wealth, completely taken in by Lawrence’s family. And somehow he’d become one of their own. Hell, he even worked for the earl, though not for long. And Urswick certainly didn’t treat Damien like a servant.
Lawrence’s family adored him and treated him as if he were a long lost son. And yet he wanted Celia. Naked beneath him in his bed, her hair spread across his pillow. Her lips swollen and red from his kisses, her body ripe and yielding to his…
“Kiss me, Damien. They’re starting to chant.”
Her family—Lawrence’s family—was in the sitting room. The entire lot of them gathered for the Christmas holiday annually. And indeed, they were all starting to chant.
Kiss her, kiss her
, they repeated with giant smiles on their faces. The Countess of Urswick’s eyes were wide, her lips parted as if she was surprised, and the earl cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting, “Just do it, boy!”
Damien’s cheeks heated, and he grimaced. He hadn’t blushed since he was a lad in short pants.
“Do it,” Celia gritted from between clenched teeth. She glared at him as if she wanted to strangle him. At the least, slap him upside his clouded head.
He’d been given this chance, and he was ruining it.
Grasping her by her slender shoulders, he pulled her close. She gasped, resting
her hands on his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his waistcoat. He swallowed hard at her touch. Desperately he tried to ignore his stiffening cock.
It was damned difficult.
He bent down, his mouth hovering above hers. Her lips pursed once again, and her lids drifted completely closed. Anticipation sliced through him.
This might be his only opportunity. He wanted to do it right. But not
too
right.
After all, the family was watching with avid interest.
Hell. And they
still
chanted.
Damien took her lips in a soft, openmouthed kiss. Her lips parted easily beneath his, and he swore he wouldn’t use his tongue. He couldn’t, not in front of everyone.
No matter how much he wanted to.
She was so warm and soft in his arms, melting against him as their lips clung. It was quick, their first kiss. No more than a few seconds, but it felt like a blessed eternity.
It was a kiss he never wanted to end.
Damien yanked away from her so quickly she swayed on her feet and stumbled when he stepped back. Celia’s eyes flew open, and she blinked at the sound of thunderous applause. All of it coming from her in-laws and cousins, who sat watching them.
She blinked again and placed her hand against her chest. Her heart raced beneath her palm, and her skin tingled with awareness, as did her lips. She stole a glance at Damien, who was no longer by her side. He headed deeper into the sitting room, completely unruffled by what transpired between them. He laughed at something the earl said, and the rich sound wound through her, warming her insides.
Heaven above, he’d
kissed
her. And it had been the simplest and most devastating kiss of her life.
“Mama! Mama!” Theodore ran to her and tugged on her skirts. She bent and enveloped her son in her arms, holding his sturdy little body close. He squirmed out of her grip, a big smile on his sweet face as he reached out and clutched her cheeks with sticky hands. He looked so much like Lawrence it used to take her breath away, especially right after his death.
But that had been almost two years ago. Time had marched on, and she needed to live her life rather than be a mere observer of it.
Damien’s kiss, it still shook her. She’d always adored him and considered him a part of the family. But she’d become aware of him as a man months ago, during one of his many visits to the estate when she was also in attendance. The last visit had been during the fall. The weather had been still warm in the day, and they’d taken a walk in the barren apple orchards on the estate.
She’d caught him looking at her with such yearning in his gaze more than once. It surprised her—and aroused her. Heat bloomed within her body at the realization. She’d feared she’d been the only one who believed they shared something special.
Perhaps she’d been wrong. His kiss only reconfirmed her beliefs that perhaps he did feel something for her. Shaking her head, she forced her attention back to Theo. “Have you been sneaking treats again?” she asked her son.
His hands fell away from her face, leaving behind a sticky residue. The same stickiness also smudged Theodore’s mouth.
He dropped his gaze. “Sorry, Mama.” His expression solemn, he looked back up at her with wide brown eyes.
“Oh, I forgive you, don’t fear. I wouldn’t want you to get a stomachache.” She smiled and hugged him once more, squeezing him tight.
He wrangled out of her grip yet again. “You kissed Uncle Damien.”
Her heart stopped, and she stared at her son. She didn’t think he’d noticed. “I—I did.”
“Do you love him, Mama? Is he going to be my papa?” The hopeful gleam in his eyes crushed her heart. He was five, a boy in desperate need of a father figure.
“Uncle Damien is a…close friend, Theo.” Celia ruffled her son’s thick dark hair and stood, her gaze sliding to where Damien stood. He still spoke with the earl, his mood seemingly jovial and carefree. As if he hadn’t kissed her to near devastation.
Of course, it had been the briefest of kisses. A mere brush—and clinging—of lips. Nothing more, nothing less.
Yet it had felt like everything. He was a handsome man, kind and smart and fiercely loyal. It had secretly shamed her to think of him as anything else but a friend.
Did Damien view her as something more?
Theo’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “I love Uncle Damien. I wish he was my father.”
Celia sucked in a harsh breath. “Darling, you’ve never said such a thing before.” Worry filled her. She knew her son missed having a father in his life. He had his grandfather, whom he loved dearly, but it wasn’t the same.
She didn’t realize he pined for Damien this way.
“Well, I do want him.” He crossed his arms in front of him and stomped his foot. “All the other boys I know have a father. I want one too!”
“You do have one.” She knelt before him again and clutched his hands. “He’s up in heaven, watching over you. Protecting you and ensuring that you’re safe.”
“It’s not the same.” He jerked away from her grip and glared at her. “I want a father. I do, I do, I do!”
She rose slowly and watched in horror as her son fled the room, his nanny chasing him. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her forehead with two fingers. The familiar and unwanted throb of a headache was coming on. It was two days before Christmas, and she’d only wanted everything to be perfect.
Unfortunately, her son and even Damien had other plans.
“Is something the matter with Theo?”
The rumble of Damien’s deep voice from behind made her shoulders stiffen. Opening her eyes, she turned and pasted on a false smile. “He’s excited and tired. A most deadly combination for a five-year-old boy, I’m afraid.”
A dark brow rose as he studied her. She drank in his familiar features, studied them with an entirely different purpose. Eyes as blue and turbulent as the sea regarded her, his usually firm lips soft and parted slightly. Lips that were only moments before pressed urgently to hers.
The temptation to touch him there, trace and memorize the shape of his sculpted mouth, was overwhelming. She clenched her hands into fists to prevent from making such a grave mistake.
“It’s late.” Damien glanced at the doorway Theo had exited. “I assume his nanny will put him to bed?”
“Yes. Though I should probably go and kiss him good night.” She started to leave, but Damien stopped her, slipping his fingers around her wrist. Her skin tingled where he touched her, and his thumb swept across the pulse that thundered at his touch.
“I’ll go with you.” His velvety voice washed over her.
Her body heated with awareness. Their gazes met and locked. He’d done this before.
They’d
done this before. Together. Her hand wound through his arm as he accompanied her upstairs to say good night to Theodore. Much like a man might do, escort his wife to wish their son sweet dreams…
A gasp escaped her, and she jerked out of Damien’s grip. No wonder Theo wished him to be his father. No surprise her family encouraged Damien to kiss her under the mistletoe. The way they behaved, why anyone would assume they were together.
And they weren’t.
No matter how much she wished it were so.