I'll Be Yours for Christmas (4 page)

Maybe this evening would go even better than he thought.

“Grab that bottle and we can go put the food together in the kitchen, then sit by the fire,” he said casually, though he wasn't feeling casual at all. All of his worries were pushed back by a surge of unexpected lust, and it felt great. He wanted to hold on to it, ride it and see where it took him.

“Oh, that would be nice,” she said, walking with him to the kitchen. Dressed in jeans and a sweater that accentuated her curves, he leaned forward and pulled something from her hair. He could swear she sucked in a breath when he did, becoming perfectly still.

Hmm.

He presented a straw of hay to her with a smile. “Been down with your horses, I take it?”

She rolled her eyes and snatched the hay from his hand, but couldn't hold back a laugh, which made her even prettier. He'd always thought she was pretty, even as a little girl, but now…she was incredible. She always looked so natural and fresh, and he wondered what her skin tasted like.

“Yes, I was closing them up for the night when I saw your lights on my way back from the barn.”

“Do you still have just the two? Buttercup and Beau?”

She paused, looking surprised that he remembered. He was a little surprised, too.

“Yes. Wow, you know their names,” she said bluntly, taking the plate he handed her to open the brie so they could heat it up in the small toaster oven he pointed to.

“Why so surprising? We went to the same school, rode the same bus,” he said. “Must've just stuck in my mind, I guess.”

“Huh. I didn't think you knew I was alive unless you were poking at me about something,” she said, and it was his turn to be a little surprised.

“I always liked you. I teased you, sure, but did you feel like I picked on you? Really?” A small frown creased his lips. He didn't like thinking he had hurt Abby's feelings or been mean to her.

Taking the food, they made their way to the main room and set the dishes down on the coffee table, placing a platter with green grapes, crackers and apples and the
warmed brie between them. All perfect to go with the Baco, but Reece waited for her answer before moving to the fire.

She looked him in the eye and sighed lightly. “Well, you have to admit, aside from teasing me or pulling my hair, you didn't give me reason to think you knew I existed, let alone that you would remember details of my life.”

“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin slowly. “I remember some things very clearly,” he said with a teasing wink.

“You can't even resist now, can you?” she said accusingly, but a smile twitched at her lips.

She remembered what happened between them that night at the lake as clearly as he did, he'd bet. And, no, he wasn't sure he could resist, or wanted to. But there was time. He backed away, letting it drop for now.

“Let me put a few more logs on the fire and we can eat. Suddenly I'm starving.”

He was, though he wasn't sure the food on the plate was what he had a taste for, but it would have to be enough for the moment.

They spent the next two hours eating and talking in front of the crackling fire, when Abby suddenly looked around the room.

“You don't have a tree or any Christmas decorations up,” she observed.

He shrugged. “There hasn't been any time, or much point, I guess. I'm the only one here, and Charles, the real estate agent, thought it was better to show the place without a lot of decorations. Let people imagine their own lives here and all that.”

“Oh,” she remarked, her expression turning serious. “That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said carefully.

“Christmas decorations?”

“No, that you're selling. I was hoping—”

Reece put a hand up. “Abby, I'd be happy to sit down and talk business with you at some point. But not right now, okay?”

“But—”

“It's been kind of a tough day. I'd really like to relax, catch up with an old friend,” he said.

He geniunely didn't want to talk business with Abby. He knew she'd want to convince him not to sell, or something like that, and he didn't want to discuss that with her. It was a done deal, and that conversation was sure to put a damper on the heat building between them.

She bit her lip and looked reluctant, but nodded. “I can understand that,” she said, looking down at her wine. “I know things must have been hard for you this year,” she said vaguely, inviting him to say more, but he didn't want to talk about any of that, either. Maybe that wasn't fair, but he needed a night off from all of it.

“Yeah,” he said, and changed the subject. “But how about you? You live in the house alone now?”

Nothing like discreet fishing before you tried to seduce an old friend, he thought. Hopefully there wasn't another guy in the picture, though looking at her, it was hard to believe they weren't lined up.

She shook her head, and his relief was immediate.

“Nope, just me now. Sarah retired, and Mom and
Dad are traveling all over the world. I still have a small part-time staff, of course, to help me get things done, but I handle most of it myself.”

“They don't come home for the holidays? Your parents?”

“It would be difficult. They send gifts, and we video conference on the computer a lot. Last year they were in India, helping local people build a school. This winter, they've been helping down in Haiti.”

“Really? I thought they were tourists now?”

“They mix their pleasure travel with activism. It's just their way, and they have always been more like explorers than tourists.”

He nodded, smiling. “I remember.”

“I know what they're doing is important, and I'm a big girl. We're busy enough through the holidays that being alone at Christmas gives me a quiet day or two to relax, read, sleep in, that kind of thing.”

“Your parents were always so progressive,” he said admiringly, but really he was thinking about Abby sleeping in, under the covers, warm and soft, curled up in something slinky with a book. Then he imagined taking the book out of her hands and slipping the lacy bit of nothing from her shoulder….

“Reece?” she said, and he realized he had gone blank, lost in his fantasy. “Are you okay?”

She seemed worried, and it bothered him. Of all the people he didn't want worrying if he was healthy and ready to go, she was first on the list at the moment.

“Sorry. You just made me remember that summer when your parents decided to try to add selling goat
cheese to the winery business, and all of the goats got loose one weekend and ate some of my dad's vines,” he lied, unable to look away from her face. Her eyes had landed on the scar behind his ear—the skin graft had healed, but it was visible. Did it bother her?

The definite sparkle of interest in her eyes said no, he assumed.

She laughed then, breaking the bond. “He was pretty nice about it, considering.”

Her honey-brown hair was soft and slightly curled, pushed back in a haphazard way that made him want to reach out and weave his hands into it. She didn't wear makeup, which he found refreshing. She didn't need to. Her skin was flawless, her cheeks pink and kissable. And those lips…

“Did you ever wonder?” he heard himself ask.

Her cheeks turned rosy again, her lips parting slightly, as if she knew exactly where his mind had gone. “Wonder what?”

He paused. They'd had a nice evening, two old friends talking over high school times and getting reacquainted. Did he really want to step into other waters? He was only back for a month or so, or however long it took to sell the winery. And the faster, the better. Abby wasn't one of his pit stops.

The women he knew in Europe were aware of his commitment-free lifestyle, his focus on his racing. They knew the score. They also had their own agendas, liking to be seen with a well-known driver, having their picture show up in the next day's entertainment news.

Abby had no agenda. She was just…Abby.

He still had to ask the question.

“What it might have been like if we didn't stop that night at the lake?” he said and noted the slight catch in her breath, but she didn't look away.

“Sure, I wondered,” she said simply.

“I was about to ask you out, back then, when you took off,” he admitted.

“You were?”

“Yeah. I wanted to know what it would be like to be with you, for real,” he said. “I always liked you, Abby. A lot.”

“Oh” was her only response, sounding slightly breathless. He took that as a good sign and plunged ahead.

“Still want to find out?” he said, in spite of every bit of better judgment he had.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she stood suddenly, setting down her wine, her movements fluttering and nervous.

“I should go. We're just tired. There's the fire and the wine, and it's easy to be caught up in old times, but really…I should go,” she repeated, and walked to the door.

Reece shot up, moving after her.

“I'm sorry,” he said, catching her arm, turning her to him. “I didn't mean to scare you off.”

He wasn't sure if he was talking about eight years ago or two minutes ago. He was sure he didn't want her walking out the door.

They were close, and she looked up at him, her eyes somber.

“Listen, Reece, as much as I might be…curious, too, it wouldn't be a good idea—”

“You're curious?” His mind selectively honed in on
the one thing he wanted to hear and he stepped closer. “About me?”

She licked her lips nervously, making his cock jerk, semihard already, against the rough fabric of his jeans. In his hurry, he hadn't even pulled on briefs, so all that held him back was a bit of thin fabric.

“I—” She had started to say something, but he saw the pulse beating hard at the base of her throat, the desire in her eyes.

“What else are you curious about, Abby? I seem to remember you liked the excitement of being there, by the hedge, in public. Are you still up for that kind of adventure?”

He remembered how aroused she had been, and it had been just as hot for him, too. Did she still want that?

Reece liked risk, too. Hell, it defined him. He also had fantasies that not all of his lovers had satisfied.

What kind of sex was Abby into? He knew about her fondness for public places. Bondage, maybe? Something more creative? Role-play, perhaps?

He wanted to find out, imagining Abby tied to his bed or dressed in black leather. What if she wanted him tied up?

He could probably live with that. He was open to anything short of real pain or multiple partners—Reece wasn't sharing Abby with anyone.

“Let's just see, Abby, what it could be like between us,” he said, needing to know and pulling her to him, his hands traveling up her back and into her hair, as he'd thought about.

It was like silk. He wanted to feel it trailing over his stomach and his thighs, her mouth on him.

The thought made his kiss less introductory, less tentative, than it might have been otherwise. He took her soft lips and opened her wider, invading and rubbing his tongue against hers with a deep moan. She felt so right, like she had before, but better, the flames leaping between them.

Her arms went around his neck, and she rubbed back with her tongue, her lips and the rest of her body as she strained against him.

Green flag,
he thought, but resisted accelerating, instead maintaining the steady heat of the kiss, learning her taste, her touch, until neither of them could take it any longer.

When her hands started undoing the buttons on his shirt, he walked her back against the wall by the window, pressing his hardness against her, moving his hands up to cover her breasts. She was firm and soft in his palms, the nipples budding hard.

Touching wasn't enough, he needed to taste.

Moving his hands up under her sweater, he set the flimsy lace of her bra aside and bent to take one tight, beaded nipple in his mouth. He drew on it hard, murmuring encouragingly as she arched away from the wall, her hand at the back of his head, keeping him there.

He replaced his lips with his fingers, rolling the warm buds between his thumb and forefinger as he kissed her again, wanting to be everywhere at once.

He stood back, staring down into her flushed face, her passion-drenched eyes, raising a finger to touch lips that now looked like crushed cherries.

“Abby, I want you, but…” He let the question hang. He wanted her, but he'd back off now if she wanted him to, no matter what.

“Yes, please,” she said, her breathing short and hard.

She was incredibly sweet. He planned to take his time with her, he thought, and pressed her back, sliding a thigh between her legs, pinning her to the wall. He wanted to make her come as many times as he could before he got inside her, because once he was, he knew he wouldn't last long. Not this first time.

He took her lips again and massaged those pretty breasts with both hands, moving against her until she was whimpering and grinding against him. Without warning, she arched, coming hard, moaning into his mouth as she rode it out. And he didn't even get her clothes off yet, he thought with raw hunger, wanting more.

He pulled back, taking in her bemused expression, the surprised satisfaction he saw there making him swell harder.

He thought she might be shy, embarrassed, but she linked her arms around his neck and leaned in, nipping at his lower lip.

“More” was all she said as she looked him in the eye.

“Oh, honey,” he choked out. “There's plenty more.”

Swinging her up into his arms, he turned to take her back to the fireplace, planning to dim the lights and strip that sweater off in the warm glow of the flames, when he stopped, his gaze drawn out the window.

He stared, uncertain what had caught his eye, but a bad feeling overcame him and he let Abby slide to her feet. He walked closer to the window that looked out over the field.