Chasing Christmas Eve

With a husky laugh, he put his finger over her mouth. “There’s security on the property, including cameras. The last thing either of us needs is a sex tape on YouTube.” He lifted her out of the driver seat, put his glasses back on, and took over.

She barely remembered getting back because he had his hand on her thigh and that was all she could think about, that and also the way the rough pads of his fingers felt on her skin as he stroked it while driving.

After he parked at the Pacific Pier Building and came around for her, they collided and kissed right there on the sidewalk, Spence pressing her up against the truck until his phone buzzed.

He straightened his glasses and ripped the phone from his pocket. “What?” His gaze slid to hers, his mouth very slightly curved as he listened and then disconnected.

“What?” she asked.

“I have tight security on this building too. Joe’s on the monitors and got worried that I might actually swallow your tonsils.”

She smiled. “I don’t have any tonsils.”

With a laugh, he took her hand and they moved through the courtyard and into the elevator. She stood next to him and tilted her face to his, looking at his mouth.

He groaned. “Stop.”

“Cameras in here too?”

“Yeah. Remind me to rethink that,” he said, cupping her face, running the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, his eyes heavy lidded.

Somehow they got to his floor, where he tugged her off the elevator, his stride so fast that she nearly had to run to keep up with him.

They tumbled inside his place, where he pressed her up against the foyer table and kissed her. She got his jacket off his shoulders but it caught on his forearms because he was simultaneously divesting her of her coat and scarf. Giving up on his jacket, she started pushing up his T-shirt, laughing breathlessly when they both went to kick off their shoes and tripped over each other, crashing into the wall.

“No cameras in here, right?” she asked against his mouth.

“Not a one.” He was down to just pants now, and since he’d left her dress puddled on the floor, she was in her bra and panties when he stilled, his eyes glazing over as he took in the midnight blue see-through lace. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said roughly, catching her hands, holding them out at her sides. “I could look at you all night.”

The fire in his eyes did things to her. As did the telling bulge behind his zipper. “Me too. I mean”—she grimaced at herself—“I could look at you all night too.”

He flashed a grin. “You’re nervous.”

“What? Of course not,” she denied and then closed her eyes. “Okay, yes. I’m incredibly nervous. It’s . . . been a while.”

“Don’t be. Maybe I’m really bad at this.”

She laughed helplessly. “You’re not.”

“You don’t know,” he said. “Maybe I’m the one who’s nervous. Go easy on me, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered, not buying this for one second but finding it incredibly sweet that he wanted her to be at ease.

Sweet and incredibly sexy. Needing a moment, she turned away, grasping the foyer desk, dropping her head, struggling to control herself.

Spence came up behind her, his hands skimming up her arms. She was so turned on by the feel of him surrounding her that she pressed her bottom into him, and this time it was his groan to echo in the apartment as he slowly circled her waist with his hands.

Using his jaw to sweep her hair aside, he brushed a kiss to her ear and then to the sensitive spot just beneath it as he pressed a hand flat to her belly to keep their bodies lined up.

She wanted him so bad that she had a death grip on the desk as she ground into him. When his hands slid north, her head fell back against his shoulder, her body trembling for his touch.

Her bra hit the floor. His hands came up to cup her freed breasts in his warm palms, his thumbs sliding slowly over her nipples, making her shudder. She was panting, unable to get control, and she was torn between embarrassment at her reaction to him and sheer lust. Sheer lust won when she felt his mouth on the nape of her neck before he turned her in his arms and captured her mouth in his.

She kissed him back, slow and deep, feeling more turned on than she’d ever felt in her life as he lifted her up against him and started walking.

The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back on his bed. “Um,” she said, and he stilled, a question in his eyes. “I’m so nervous I might forget my moves,” she said. “I feel like this is my first time.”

His lips curved in a dark, sexy smile. “This is going to be better than your first time,” he promised.

“How do you know?”

He finished stripping and she stopped breathing as she watched. He grabbed something from a drawer. A condom. Good. At least one of them was thinking. She reached for him, pulling him down over top of her, wrapping her legs around his hips.

“Not yet,” he said. “You’re not ready—”

She reached down and guided him home. He said her name in protest, in pleasure, in surprise . . . She understood that last one because nothing surprised her more than the feel of him taking over, filling her to the hilt, and moving inside her so exquisitely that she came almost instantly.

“Not any good at this, huh?” she managed when she found her tongue.

Spence buried his face in her throat and both laughed and groaned. “Christ, Colbie.” His voice was guttural and strained. “You feel so good. So fucking good that I don’t want to ever stop.”

“Then don’t.” She matched him thrust for thrust as they moved together, and she knew the truth, that it was him that felt so good because she didn’t want to ever stop either.

“Colbie.”

She managed to look at him as he took her hands in his, entwining their fingers on either side of her head, pressing her into the mattress as he moved inside her, taking her places she’d never been. His eyes held hers prisoner, watching, coaxing, his voice a low sexy murmur as she came again, or still. Their gazes were locked as her third—or was it fourth?—orgasm triggered his so that he came with her, her name on his lips as he finally let himself go.

It was the most erotic experience of her life.

Chapter 16

#HairyGoats

For several nights, Colbie slept better than she had in . . . well, forever actually. And not just because in the deep, late, quiet hours between midnight and daybreak, Spence always came to her after he was done working, sliding into her bed, pulling her into his strong, warm arms.

That’s when all her problems faded away, replaced by an erotic, sensual hunger and desire for him such as she’d never known.

She always woke up alone, with a smile on her face. She had no idea why he never stayed. Maybe actually sleeping with her was one step too intimate for him. Maybe she snored.

Maybe it was just sex.

She told herself she didn’t care, that he was still the best, most exciting thing that’d ever happened to her.

One morning almost two weeks into her stay, she sat all bundled up on one of the benches in front of the fountain and wrote.

And wrote.

She was painfully aware that the book she was writing wasn’t the next book in her Storm Fever series.

It was something entirely different. But she loved it.

She also knew that Jackson would have a fit. On top of wanting her out there in public supporting the movie in a very visible way, he also wanted her to do what her publisher wished and expand her series.

Problem was, she didn’t want any of that.

She’d closed up the series in her head and her brain just wouldn’t go there. So she let her writing take her where it wanted to go, and she was completely lost in the world when someone plopped down beside her.

“Longest day ever,” Kylie said and slumped on the bench, tilting her head against the wrought-iron to stare up at the sky. “Today alone I messed up a table I’d been working on for four months, said no to a date with a hot customer, and ate my boss’s stash of candy bars. I think I’m going to hell.”

“Why did you say no to the hot customer?”

“Because he’s married.”