Mistress Christmas (10 page)

“Thank you.” She shivered.

“Cold?”

“Nah. Laying here wet and naked with an ice pack on my head is like cozying up to a fireplace.”

He smooched her nose. “Smarty-pants.” Then he crawled beside her, yanked up the bedspread and covered them both.

“Mmm.” It amused Holly that Nick invaded her space and was cuddly as a teddy bear, not to mention hot as a furnace.

He wrapped his arm around her waist. “You tired?”

“A little.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“But don’t think my accident will get you out of answering the question.”

“What question was that?”

“The same one you forced me to answer. The one where you tell me a tidbit about yourself that no one knows. A secret, remember?”

His groan rumbled against the back of her neck. “I hoped you’d forgotten about that.”

“Forgotten? Bub, you’re the one who brought it up. So start spilling your guts because we both know you aren’t the strong, silent type of cowboy.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m a lousy cowboy, whether it’s the strong, silent type or the loud, bold type.”

“What?” When Holly tried to crank her head around to look at him, he firmly—but gently—returned her face forward and reseated the icepack.

“That’s the secret very few people know about me. I’m a terrible cowboy.”

“Explain that to this city-slicker.”

He snorted. “Most kids born into ranching families know from birth that’s the life for them. My McKay cousins are that way. Same goes for some of my West kin who earn a living from the land and livestock. I, on the other hand, never experienced that feeling of euphoria when faced with backbreaking labor and temperamental animals. Not to mention fighting the Wyoming elements day in, day out. They say what don’t kill ya makes you stronger and I realized early on I didn’t wanna spend my life half-weak and half-dead.”

“So your family doesn’t know how you feel?”

“Oh, sure they do. But it isn’t like I’ve come right out and said it, even when I suspect both my brother Blake and my dad always knew the truth. It’s not an indictment on their choice, it’s just not
my
choice.”

Holly adjusted the icepack. “Boy, do I understand that. My sister, Crystal, is happily married to a guy who drives a gas truck. They live in the suburbs, own his-and-hers SUVs, have two kids, a boy and a girl. Her life revolves around yakking on the phone, watching soap operas, and getting her nails done once a week before she indulges in a four-martini lunch with her girlfriends. My brother, Tim, and his wife just had their first baby. So my siblings and their families have Sunday dinner with my parents every week and they all vacation at the Jersey shore every August. They are close, but that kind of back pocket living terrifies me.”

“Does your family know how you feel?”

His fingertips drew tiny circles around her belly button and she withheld a shiver at his surprisingly loving touch. “I guess it’s pretty obvious since I rarely go back there. I talk to my folks about once a month. My sister and brother, a couple of times a year. They’re not bad people, I just don’t have much in common with them anymore. I haven’t since I finished college and relocated to the Wild West.”

“You went to college?”

Dammit. She’d gotten so comfortable with him she’d forgotten she was supposed to be Mistress Christmas, sexual fantasy woman, not Holly North, certified public accountant and certified public klutz. When in doubt, change the subject. “So are you going home to Wyoming for Christmas?”

“No. I have to work the day after. It’d be too much of a hassle with the weather and all.”

“Do you have friends you’ll be hanging out with?”

“Nah. I’ll most likely spend the day at home catching up on sleep or watching movies.”

That sounded lonely. It also sounded exactly like how she’d spend her Christmas day. “What kind of movies do you like?”

“Foreign films about the dichotomies of the human condition.”

Holly turned and gaped at him. “Really?”

“No. But I’ll bet you thought I’d say Westerns, huh?”

She blushed.

“I like comedies. Will Ferrell. Adam Sandler. Ben Stiller. Luke Wilson.”

“Me too!
Blades of Glory
cracked me up. My favorite Sandler flick is
Happy Gilmore
and I about fell off the couch laughing at
Dodgeball.
”

“‘If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball,’” he quoted.

They both laughed.

“I wait until I can rent them. Not much fun going to the movies by yourself,” she said.

“Tell me about it.” Nick nuzzled her cheek and kissed his way to the spot below her ear that drove her wild. “I’d like to take you to a movie sometime. I’d even share my Junior Mints.”

“Generous of you,” she murmured.

“You’ll find I’m a very generous guy.” His lips drifted down her neck. “Is your head feeling better?”

She almost said, “What head?” she was so lost in the way he was seducing her with just his mouth. Instead, she answered, “It’s still throbbing a little.”

“How about if I try to get another part of your body to throb to take your mind off it?”

Her skin prickled with anticipation. “Ah. Yeah. Sure.”

Nick swept the pillows to the floor and grabbed the condoms. While he ripped open the package, she ran her tongue over his nipples, amazed by how quickly the tips puckered.

He groaned. “That feels good.”

“Tastes good too.”

Holly continued to tease him, using her teeth and sucking the flat disks with enough force to leave a mark. She felt the latex-covered cock twitching against her belly and then she was on her back with two hundred pounds of amorous Nick above her.

Even in the dim light she could see his eyes were darkened with desire. “I wanna make love to you, very slowly and drag it out as long as possible.”

“Yes. Me too.”

“Let me in.”

She eased her knees apart. Then Nick was right there, in the cradle of her thighs, all hot, hard, persistent male. Her pussy was slick, allowing his cock to glide in easily on a single, measured stroke.

“Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

Holly canted her hips until that rigid shaft was buried deep enough she felt his balls against her ass.

“Turns me on that you’re so wet and ready.”

“Turns me on to see heat in your eyes and know it’s for me. To know I put it there.” Holly slid her palms up the ridges of his pectorals and wreathed her arms around his neck. “Make it last a long time, Nick.”

“Be my pleasure.”

Nick’s kisses and murmured sweet talk demonstrated his need to take it slow. His steady, but leisurely thrusts stoked the fire inside her to the point she feared there’d be nothing left but cinders when he finished making love to her.

He pushed her to the edge, again and again. Finally, when they were both covered with sweat, when they were both struggling for breath, he whispered, “Send us both flying, Holly. Bear down on me.” He shoved deep and hard. “Now.”

Tilting her hips so his pubic bone rasped her clit, Holly squeezed her interior muscles, gasping as the sensations synchronized and sent her into two shuddering climaxes, one right after the other.

As she fought her way back to the surface of sanity, she was thrilled to realize multiple orgasms were not a myth on par with the red-suited man after all.

“You okay?”

“Mmm. I…my God. That was…”

“For me too, Holly baby, for me too.” Nick followed his sweet words with a thorough kiss before he withdrew and left to rid himself of the condom.

Although he wasn’t gone long, Holly was drifting off when he crawled back in bed. He put a fresh icepack on her head and his thoughtfulness brought a lump to her throat. This wonderful man deserved better than her deception. She attempted to wiggle away, but Nick held her so closely a sheet of wrapping paper wouldn’t have fit between them.

Comfy as she was, her guilt weighed heavier than the blanket covering them. She didn’t want to fall asleep in his arms without setting things straight. “Nick?”

“Hmm?”

“We need to talk.”

“I know we do, darlin’. But you injured your head and you need to get some shut-eye. I’ve kept you up too long as it is. And it ain’t nothin’ that can’t keep until morning.”

He had a point.

Holly floated in and out of consciousness, never hitting deep sleep. Nick snored in her ear, making rest more elusive. When he loosened his hold on her, she carefully disentangled her limbs from his and sat on the edge of the mattress.

He mumbled, “Not gonna believe I nailed Mistress Christmas.”

She froze. Nailed Mistress Christmas. Was that all she was to him? A story he could tell his buddies?

Her empty stomach churned. She’d thought he was different.

He is different. Give him a chance to explain.

Nick might be talking in his sleep, but the truth was, once he heard her confession about not being Mistress Christmas, he’d be pissed off anyway. So maybe she oughta save face and leave him with a memory of one hot winter’s night with his fantasy woman.

As quietly as possible, Holly tracked down her clothes and dressed quickly in the near total darkness. When she found the contents of her purse strewn across the carpet where Nick had thrown it, she hastily scooped everything back inside while keeping an eye on Nick, who’d started tossing and turning.

Coat on, shoes on, she gave Nick one last regretful look and set the keycard on the desk before she slipped from the room.

When Nick woke
up he had no clue where he was. He squinted at the clock on the unfamiliar dresser. Then his bleary-eyed gaze zoomed to the box of condoms. The empty bottle of champagne.

The empty bed.

Then he remembered. The night of pure sexual decadence.

So where was Holly?

He briefly closed his eyes and let her scent—still lingering on the sheets—engulf him. He let the memories from last night swamp him and fill his body and soul in a way he’d never imagined. Holly was something truly special. He was glad she brought up them needing to talk, because he had a whole lot he wanted to tell her.

Don’t you mean a whole lot you have to confess to her?

When several minutes passed and he hadn’t heard any sounds drifting from the bathroom, he sat up. What if she’d fallen down? The woman was hot as sin, and yet, he couldn’t deny her tendency toward clumsiness, that was somehow…utterly charming.

He yelled, “Holly? Baby? You okay?”

No answer.

A funny, panicked feeling rooted in his gut. Nick raced to the bathroom. Empty. He ran out into the main room and flipped on all the lights. His clothes were in a pile right where he’d left them last night. Hers were nowhere to be found.

His eyes locked on the keycard sitting atop the desk.

Dammit. She’d just snuck out? Without a word to him? Why?

Nick jerked on his jeans, threw on his shirt and pulled on his boots. He found his truck keys in the pocket of his coat. He patted the right back pocket of his jeans and came up empty.

“Oh no. Oh
hell
no.”

Frantic, he crawled around on the floor. Looked under the chair, in the couch cushions, under the bed, in the bathroom, on the shelf in the closet, in the dresser drawers and he didn’t find it.

He stared at the rumpled bed and then the door and yelled, “Fuck! I don’t fucking believe this!”

Mistress Christmas was long gone. And so was his wallet.

A
ll morning Holly
felt so guilty she couldn’t concentrate. She wondered if Nick had gotten mad when he’d woken up and found her gone? Or worse, maybe he’d been relieved? Either way, she’d realized running out had been a childish reaction and she owed him an explanation. For everything.

But her search for his telephone number in the Denver metro area business and residence pages produced no results. True, her own number was unlisted, but that was pretty much standard for a single woman.

What if he’d given her a fake name?

Dammit. Her limited “morning after” experiences left her no choice but to call Ivy, ask her advice and come clean about what’d gone down with one of her club’s customers after hours. She touched the receiver. Then slowly took her hand back.

She’d make that call. Right after lunch. All morning she’d been too jittery to eat, but now she was starved.

No. You’re stalling.

Holly plopped her purse on her desk. She browsed the take-out menu beside her blotter. Rooting around absentmindedly in the inside pocket for her wallet, her hand brushed unfamiliar, nubby leather. She gasped and yanked her hand back as if it’d connected with a snake.

Heart thumping, she peered inside. Not a snake, but something made of…snakeskin.

“What the hell?” She lifted out the surprisingly heavy wallet and had a memory flash. Right after she’d arrived at the hotel, Nick had grabbed her purse and tossed it aside. Faced with the sexual heat in his eyes, she really hadn’t cared what’d become of her purse or what’d been in it.

Then Nick had taken the first condom out of his wallet and whipped it aside too. Evidently his billfold had landed on top of her assorted purse wreckage, and in her haste to leave, she’d inadvertently shoved his wallet in her purse along with everything else.